“Your Excellency,” Commander Tempest Shadow calls as she strolls onto the roof of the embassy. You could grind a horseshoe on the hardness of her words, her utter lack of emotion conveying her callous contempt quite clearly. The clustered delegates leap out of her way well before she needs to charge her sparking horn. “I-”

“Hold,” the Storm King commands, holding up his three-fingered hand. Her jaw snaps shut, an indignant scowl the only evidence of the biting retort she would have unleashed on anycreature else. His attention does not turn from the three entwined equines in front of him. The Staff of Sacanas creaks as it bends, as if peering from a few inches closer would solve the conundrum he has with Shining Armor.

It’s difficult to tell if the stallion is losing the battle between himself and Chrysalis, their muzzles locked onto each other. But if he is? He certainly doesn’t seem to mind. Nor does he mind the pink hoof rubbing circles on his flank, or the wing draping across his backside. It does wonders for the swellings around his flank.

“Didn’t think ponies could hold it in so long,” the Storm King explains, beckoning Tempest Shadow. She does, silently. “Or changelings. I thought four, maybe five minutes was their limit. But this?” He motions with his free hand and a frustrated sigh.

It’s enough to get Chrysalis to pull away and glare at him. “I’m breathing through my nose.” She demonstrates with a particularly deep breath. “You imbecile.”

If the insult bothers the Storm King he doesn’t show it, but draws a sharp gasp from Tempest. She stomps forward a single step, only stopped by the Storm King speaking.

“Obviously,” the Storm King says with a sharp laugh. “I was talking about that.” He points at the other swelling, the one between Shining Armor’s legs, made all the more prominent with how his back arches to meet the changeling’s tall stance. “You two must tease him all the time.” He shakes his head with a long, empathetic sigh. “Sorry, bud.”

“It’s not-” Chrysalis spits out, but the Storm King has already turned away and is ignoring her. She looks at Cadance for support, yet only finds a guilty mare unable to meet her eyes. “We don’t...”

Only for Shining Armor to pull the grumbling changeling back against his lips.

“You had something for me?” the Storm King asks, sporting a wide, fake grin. He rests his chin on the sharp point of the staff, scratching at an imaginary itch.

“One for you, your Excellency,” Tempest Shadow states, then raises her voice enough so everycreature can hear. “And one for everycreature.”

“Ooh, me first!” The Storm King’s hand raises into the air with the exuberance of a certain pink earth pony. “Do me first!”

Even Tempest Shadow cannot conceal the roll of her eyes nor her exasperated sigh, especially as he leers knowingly at her flanks. She doesn’t regret any of the… actions she has taken in the pursuit of restoring her horn. She just wishes some were not so… vexing.

“The chefs are inquiring as to the status of your…”

Her ever-present scowl deepens at just the thought. That a being as powerful and driven as the Storm King would waste even a moment on something as frivolous as a…

“Party.”

Behind the rows of delegates a melancholy pink pony stares off the side of the building at the tiny and gargantuan shapes mingling on the street below. She wonders what strange and fascinating festivals these unfamiliar folks celebrate. But as the singular word reaches her, especially with the scorn baked into it and then frosted with a layer of derision? Two ears stand on end. They swivel, first one direction, then the other, around and around until they are twisted like a hangmare’s noose.

“Hmm,” the Storm King muses, scratching at his chin as he stares up at the sky. “I did promise the troops a pizza party if they completed their objectives. But since Canterlot remains uninvaded, I don’t-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Pinkie Pie says from between the Storm King and Tempest Shadow, having closed the distance in less than the blink of an eye. “Let’s not be too hasty, yes?” She motions to the four alicorns, all of whom regard them curiously. Except Cadance. She’s still… busy. “You did manage to get all the alicorns here, right? And that’s what you were after? Right?!”

She nods, her maniacal grin pulling at the corners of her mouth until it reaches her ears. It makes the Storm King and Tempest Shadow gulp nervously, especially as they realize the shape of said ears.

“I’d like to agree with you,” the Storm King laments with a heavy sigh and shake of his head. “But-”

“Would it help if,” Pinkie Pie interrupts, clambering up the side of the much taller Storm King until her head is next to his. “You take one of the Princesses prisoner? Say, Twilight.” She points and he looks down her foreleg at the eponymous alicorn.

Twilight Sparkle’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing at Pinkie Pie.

“I’m sure you have some sort of anti-magic cage that can contain her,” Pinkie Pie continues, either oblivious or indifferent to her herdmate’s glare. “But not too anti-magic! We don’t want to hurt her or the foals. And it should be surrounded by something menacing! Like lava!”

“Like the reactor room,” Tempest Shadow deadpans.

Pinkie Pie nods along, then frowns. “Wait, on an airship?” She shakes her head, laughing. “That’s just silly! Anyway, I’m totally sure Twilight would agree. She’d even like it!”

“W-wait, what?” Twilight stammers, nervously glancing between Celestia and Luna. The former seems far more intrigued with the idea than she likes. Cadance’s bemused snort snaps her back to Pinkie Pie. “I-I wouldn’t-”

“It’s for a party!” Pinkie Pie shouts back, half forceful command and half pleading beg. “And Friendship!”

The Storm King’s face twitches at the word. “If that’s the case,” he mutters with a dark, foreboding glower. He reaches up, plucking the pink pony from his shoulder like she was Rainbow Dash and not a stocky earth pony. He turns her smiling face around so she can see his bared fangs. “I don’t like it.”

It doesn’t dampen her spirits at all, Pinkie Pie beaming all the brighter.

And in an instant his frown turns upside down, raucous laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings. He squeezes her against his chest, squashing the fluffy mane against his face.

“I love it!”

“I knew it!” comes the muffled reply, four hooves wrapping around the tall body to squeeze back.

Tempest Shadow sighs. She wishes she knew it, the capricious king as fickle as an Everfree storm. “So I shall tell the chefs…”

“What do you think?” The Storm King raises Pinkie Pie back to his shoulder. “Pepperoni? Anchovy? Plain?”

Pinkie Pie’s grin stretches, but it’s forced. “How about I make them a supreme? Pinkie Pie style!”

She grins at the affirming slap against her flank, blindly pronking off the side of the building. A few seconds later Tempest’s skiff rises into the air, the pink pony at the helm. Frenzied motion from the frantic Storm Guards on board utterly fails to dissuade her. In fact, after a few seconds they appear to be dancing, joining her in starting fires by rubbing their hands together, then making pizzas by twirling hands in wide circles and shaking rumps in the most human-esque dance imaginable.

“Next subject?” the Storm King asks the unicorn busily digging a divot into her forehead.

“Alira has prepared the auditorium, though it may feel a bit…” Tempest Shadow glances at the pale blue hippogriff delegate. He holds her gaze, talons raking at the ground. Though that could be directed at the Storm King mimicking a crab, arms raised as he shuffles back and forth. She knows he knows she can see him out of the corner of her eye, which just makes it all the more infuriating. “Cramped. As will the cage.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Twilight Sparkle shouts as she indignantly stomps over.

Celestia and Luna follow closely behind, intrigued more than worried. Cadance and Chrysalis manage to pry themselves off a thoroughly relaxed Shining Armor, the unicorn limping behind them. The remaining members of the herd hover above or nearby, joining the rest of the delegates at a more respectful distance.

“You expect us,” Twilight demands, a sweeping hoof indicating the ponies, “to voluntarily follow you, where we may or may not be put in cages specifically designed to hold us?”

Tempest’s steely nod is met by an impertinent snort. “Is that a problem?”

“Is that a…” Twilight turns to Celestia and Luna. The former has a warm smile, the other a hoof against her face. She looks at Cadance, hopeful.

Only to be quashed by a friendly pink smile. “If it puts our hosts at ease, I don’t have a problem with it.”

Twilight’s grumbling only grows more intense. “Fine,” she spits out. She locates the armored black warship high above, still with a massive pink stain across the bow. Figures, given the additives Pinkie Pie put into that massive cake to make it not collapse in on itself. “Do you want us chained up now or when we get there?”

“Chains?” Shining Armor teases, poking his sister as he limps over. “I didn’t know you were so… clinky.”

“Did you get that from Doug?” Twilight asks with a small smile, drawing a confused tilt of the head from her brother. “Because you’re about ten months too early to be making terrible sire jokes.”

“Hey!” Shining Armor shouts as Twilight’s horn flares, teleporting her to the rooftop's exit. He indignantly sputters as Cadance rubs a soothing hoof along his back. “You don’t think I’m getting old, do you?”

“Mm,” Cadance consoles, stroking his mane and pretending to inspect it closely. “It’s not apparent yet.”

“Oh, good,” Shining Armor says as Cadance takes off after Twilight. It takes him a second before a jovial scowl crosses his face. “Hey! Wait!”

Shining Armor limps after the alicorn ignoring his calls. Celestia and Luna follow with long, regal steps. The rest of the major and minor delegates jostle for position, as do the mares of the herd. Doug is more than happy to bring up the rear, only to be stopped by a talon lightly grabbing his armored shoulder.

“Excuse me, Prince Consort Doug Apple,” the pale blue hippogriff says as the last of the others disappear inside the building. “I require a moment of your time.”

Doug tenses, brushing off the talon as he turns. Nocreature is on the roof with them, but he spots Lunaris watching from their airship. It puts him at ease, shoulders relaxing as he studies the hippogriff standing eye to amber eye. A white and gray mane billows away from him, very similar to Spitfire, though she lacks similarly colored outcrops of feathers around his taloned digits that seem as dexterous as hands, much like a griffon’s. His wings are as large as Celestia’s, and he wonders if the hippogriff could pick him up and fly away like he’s some sort of large tuna.

“Sure,” Doug says neutrally. “What’s up?”

The pale blue beak somehow curves to resemble a smile. “My name is Sky Beak, brother of the Queen of the Hippogriffs. I come to beg for your assistance.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 16 - Survival Instincts, Part Two Estimated time remaining: 29 Hours, 45 Minutes