June 3rd, 1001 Domina Solaria

Diamond Tiara wakes before the crowing of the rooster, as she always does, though the only cock she really wants to see is next to her, ensconced in its sheath. Where, to her bitter frustration, it would likely remain for a good number of years. She tells herself that she shouldn’t mind, that herding with him will be worth the wait, but biding her time has proven more aggravating than she originally thought. She keeps dreaming of him laying across her back, his muzzle buried in her mane, their sweat mingling as he rests before rutting her again. Sometimes she wonders if she should have gone with somepony else, somepony closer to her in age that she could relate to a little better.

A thin line of soft moonlight from the small window provides all the illumination she needs to extricate herself from the soft bodies pressing on both sides. A part of her hates losing the closeness, and leaving the comfortable warmth of the bed, a part she struggles to tamp down. She watches Pomarbo shift about in his sleep until the newly opened gap between him and Silver Spoon has been closed. She studies the lines of his small flanks, how his thin barrel rises and falls between breaths, the lay of his short-cropped mane, the same auburn as his sire but with two green streaks like leaves hidden in a field of apples. Would he keep the emaciated build of his sire, or would he fill out like his uncle? Mister Doug has put on more muscle in the last year, which gives her hope, but until then Pomarbo is just a blank-flanked colt.

That could be it. Colt. Snuggling with him felt like snuggling with her younger sister and brother. Quick pecks to his cheek were met with blushed hesitance, or maybe a timorous try of his own, and she hasn’t yet attempted anything longer or closer to the lips. But what should it look like? Her parents had never been the affectionate type, not overtly like the Apple herd, though she knows they all love each other. Her loins ache at the thought; summer heats aren’t unheard of, and more common in growing mares before they get that function under control, not that she would make an attempt. Ugh; she hopes it isn’t that, she doesn’t need any distractions right now!

Regardless, she needs to get ready. A prod to Silver Spoon’s flanks gets her sister to grudgingly rise, bleary-eyed and cross. Her loud stomps to the bathroom surely would wake the castle, but Pomarbo just leans into Cozy Glow, softly snoring.

She feels refreshed after washing up and applying her scents - earth, lightly salted, seems to be his favorite, and would cover any hint of what she’s going through. She ties her mane in a quick ponytail; it still feels foreign, but does its job of drawing his attention. Hungry, she steals out of the room to find some breakfast, hoping she can carry theirs back, much like when she makes breakfast for her parents. What she doesn’t expect is the crystal guard stationed directly outside her room, who regards her with the sour expression of one who has things they would much rather be doing than standing watch over a young mare’s room. Are they new, recruited just for the Games, or does the Crystal Empire have different standards for how they expect their guards to act?

“Good morning, ma’am,” Diamond Tiara cheerfully greets. It costs nothing to be courteous, and if that’s the difference between a hired hoof guarding you with their lives versus throwing their spear down and fleeing? With all the talk of King Sombra, that could be a very real possibility. “Which way to the kitchens?”

She heads down the given directions, dreading coming back up the many flights of stairs with multiple trays on her back. She keeps her cheerful smile on, grinning at the guards stationed at every floor. Their presence makes her feel more nervous, not less, like they know an attack is impending, and yet all they would do is add an armored body to the crush of fleeing ponies.

The kitchens themselves are bustling with chef-hatted ponies, buscolts, and - to her surprise - a disheveled Princess Luna munching on an unpeeled pineapple with all the mechanicalness of the Cider Squeezy. She doubts she’ll ever get over the idea that seeing the Princesses would become a regular thing!

Diamond Tiara marches forward, mouth watering at the mound of fruit-topped pancakes in front of the alicorn, yet the only smile to be seen is made of whipped cream. She greets, much like Doug when he sees the alicorn in the morning, “Good night, Princess Luna!”

The alicorn turns her weary eyes toward Diamond Tiara, her scowl letting up for a brief moment. “Miss Tiara,” she replies stiffly after a long pause. Diamond Tiara gulps, wondering if Luna is thinking about the dream she had, but there isn’t any condemnation on her bleary visage, or a knowing smirk. She’s not sure which one she would rather see. “...Good night.”

“Did you sleep well?” Diamond Tiara chances.

“We spent our night racing from one nightmare to another, calming fears of invasion or performance anxiety or heartache.” Luna sighs, exhausted; Diamond Tiara doubts she would let this side of her show if it wasn’t somepony close. She loves being that pony. “Or, in one case, all three.”

Diamond Tiara’s muzzle scrunches up. All three? Who would that be? Her stomach growls, interrupting any musing. “Sorry,” she says as Luna regards her with a slight frown. “...You gonna eat that?”

Luna looks at the untouched smiley-face pancakes, then the half-eaten pineapple, and slides the buttery concoction towards Diamond Tiara. “How went thy night with Honesty’s colt?”

Honesty’s colt? She supposes that’s one was to refer to Applejack. “Uneventful.”

Luna sighs, but this time it’s a sigh of disappointment.

Diamond Tiara realizes, too late, what she just said. She quickly swallows the bite of syrupy pancakes, hating having to cut short the euphoric experience. “Not because the night is boring! It’s, just, we have to wait before it gets more exciting!”

“Mm,” Luna grunts, returning to her pineapple.

“Don’t mind her,” a chipper white chef chimes in as she stirs a big bowl of blueberry-studded batter, tall hat comically askew atop her long horn. “She’s never been much of a morning pony.”

It takes Diamond Tiara a second to realize that this is Princess Celestia, moonlighting as a cook. “P-Princess Celestia!” She gulps at how casually the Princess is addressing her, and finds herself quite unable to stifle the deep desire to bow, even after all the time the ruler has spent at Sweet Apple Acres.

“Thank you, my little pony, but enjoying my pancakes is enough honor for me.” Princess Celestia, who surely must not have meant the jab at her Sister, holds up a hoof, frog up. With remarkable balance she pours some batter into the little indentation, where it sizzles as though atop a skillet. A few seconds later she flips it, catching on the same hoof, and offers it to Diamond Tiara. “Would you like more?”

Diamond Tiara looks down at the giant pile of pancakes in front of her. She doubts she can finish these, and the others would love something cooked by a Princess!

“Too late!” Doug says as he slips next to Celestia, snatching the pancake from her hoof and stuffing it in his mouth, leaving a smear of blueberry across one cheek. She gives him a look of mock exasperation, then Diamond Tiara one of exaggerated longsuffering, especially as he draws a finger along her foreleg and comes up with a dollop of batter. Diamond Tiara suspects he dipped that finger into the bowl of batter first, Celestia would never spill. “You missed a spot,” he remarks, sliding the finger into his mouth.

“Neigh, you missed a spot,” Celestia returns jovially, tongue lashing out to lick the offending blueberry off his face. He yelps, trying to backpedal, she keeps pace with a series of graceful three-legged hops.

Diamond Tiara sighs happily. She’s glad the Princesses found love. “Good night, Princess.”

“Good night,” Luna responds absentmindedly, watching their antics with a certain fondness despite her exhaustion.

Without too much effort Diamond Tiara loads the plate on her back. The pancakes should be enough for everypony, and she’d hate to impose on the Princesses. Her heart beats faster at even having the opportunity to impose on the Princesses. Did she ever dream such a thing would happen?

The other three eagerly devour the pancakes, though it takes some cajoling to peel Cozy Glow away from her book on chess openings and to get Pomarbo up and about. Their dresses go on easily enough, especially with him helping, and their makeup. She tucks the kit into the side of her dress, just in case. Then it’s a short trip on an arched walkway to the stadium right next door. She’s glad for the proximity, and not needing a dressing room, or having to haul their props around.

The Cloudsdale Colosseum might be larger, Canterlot’s Pitsmare Arena might be more well-engineered, but the Crystal Empire Stadium is easily the most ornate of them all. Every seat shines like polished crystal, even those all the way at the top. The section for the Princesses and visiting V. I. P.s sticks out from the rest, especially opulent even without the royalty and their gilded retinues. Her family will be sitting close by, though with relatively few of the Princess Herd, as many of them will be much closer to the action in the Competitor’s Seats. Including, to her chagrin, Doug; she suspects fowl play, the griffons and hippogriffs pushing for the category of Ice Archery to be split into two hind legs versus fore. Regardless, it is one of the few categories the human had any chance in, and it lets him sit with his mares when they aren’t competing as well as give Ponyville another shot at medaling.

She doesn’t have much time to appreciate the sights, as Ms. Harshwhinny, the head of the Equestria Games, stands at the entrance. The orange earth pony looks down her long muzzle and, without reference to the checklist at her side, directs the three flag carriers to the lowest section while Cozy Glow heads to the competitor seats. Two guards are there helping to explain the many security procedures, but being earth ponies their warning is mercifully brief, and limited mostly to staying in their designated area.

It occurs to Diamond that arriving early might not have been the best plan, as there is nothing to do except wait. In their fancy dresses no less, so it’s not like they can scamper around, or kick a soccer ball, if they had thought to bring anything along. She takes a page out of Pomarbo’s book, the colt watching the slow trickle of spectators with a sense of genuine wonder, and lays next to him, careful not to wrinkle her dress, and it’s not long before her sister joins them on his other side. She can feel her tail twitching on its own, swishing back and forth, but there’s not much she can do about that besides sitting on it, something a Rich pony would never stoop to.

The sun rises, and along with it a flood of ponies. They pour into the stadium through every entrance, gradually filling the stands like paint in Pinkie Pie’s satchel, somehow remaining distinct colors as they swirl about until finally setting down. Other species join the mix: tall and broad Storm Creatures alongside equally bulky Yaks, hippogriffs and griffons commiserating with the pegasi about the restriction against flying, and spiky dragons being given a wide berth by everycreature.

The other flag carriers line up behind Diamond Tiara, their whispering about her proximity to this unmarked colt gradually getting less and less concealed. Even her most pointed glare fails to silence them, leaving her to endure their mockery. It’s so unfair! Why doesn’t he hurry up and get his mark?

Her breath catches as Dragon Lord Torch descends from the sky like a hawk about to smash into a wayward rabbit.

*BOOM*

The massive dragon impacts the ground with a shuddering crash, his building-sized feet leaving deep depressions in the earth. He barely fits inside the stadium, having to coil his orange-tipped tail around his legs and fold his wings one at a time against his back.

“Greetings, puny creatures!”

The Dragon Lord laughs as he turns to regard the skittering ponies, his door-sized claws gouging furrows in the field they are supposed to play on.

Diamond Tiara feels rage bubbling inside her, that this bully of a beast is ruining their opening ceremony! But it appears somepony - or somedragon - is equally incensed. Emperor Spike flies out, miniscule against the elder dragon. There’s even a golden crown hanging from Torch’s armor that’s bigger than Spike! But while his words might not be audible, his anger clearly is.

“What do you mean I wasn’t invited?” Torch roars with laughter. “I’m the Dragon Lord, mate! I go where I want to! And you’ve got a great bullseye set up here!”

Spike crosses his arms across his chest.

“RSVP?” Dragon Lord Torch scoffs. “Do I look like a puny princess to you?”

Diamond Tiara growls, and Spike’s reaction is no different.

Torch’s expression darkens, his eyebrows narrowing. “Really?” He snorts, a cloud of smoke billowing from his nostrils that completely envelops Spike.

But as it clears, the purple dragon is still there, just as cross as before, unmoved by the ferocious display.

Torch holds his pugnacious expression for one long moment before laughing uproariously. “I like you, Spike! Remind me to introduce you to my daughter once this is all done.” He looks upward, calculating, before a massive thrust propels him upward. He lands on top of the Crystal Castle, somehow not tipping it over, and reminds her of Canterlot jutting out from the Canterhorn.

“What?” Sweetie Belle says from next to Diamond Tiara, having arrived sometime during Torch’s grandstanding. Her lower lip quivers, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Scootaloo encourages, rubbing withers and helping her sister stay upright. “It’s not like he’s said yes already!”

“You’ll get yer chance!” Apple Bloom says from the other side. “But you can’t let him see you like this!” She turns to Diamond Tiara, pointing at Sweetie Belle’s running makeup. “Hey, DT! You got anything that can help with this?”

Diamond Tiara grins, pulling out her makeup kit and a wipe cloth. A few seconds later and the unicorn is back to normal, though a little red around the eyes that concealer won’t help with.

The Princesses’ arrival seems an afterthought after Torch’s display, everypony hastening to their spots. Cadance, with an apoplectic Ms. Harshwhinny, takes one look at the depressions. She gives Celestia an apologetic glance; the white alicorn flies down and, her horn shining gold, evens out the deep pits.

The Crusaders reluctantly move to the head of the line. Ms. Harshwhinny arrives shortly after, hurriedly shuffling all the competitors around and explaining the order of events with a rapid fire that leaves Diamond Tiara’s head spinning. She’s glad her orders are easy: Our Town only has five ponies competing - three pegasi, one earth pony, and one unicorn - while Ponyville seems to have half the town crowded in. Diamond Tiara lets a satisfied smirk slip, seeing as it was her hoofwork getting everypony organized into so many events, all the better to win the most medals.

At Ms. Harshwhinny’s signal they file out, first watching the Crusader’s short dance, Scootaloo zooming about on her scooter, and the three pegasi flying through Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom’s raised hoop.

Then it’s their turn. Their tumbling dance passes quickly; it’s fortunate Pomarbo doesn’t have much to do, since he seems overcome by a bit of stage fright. She and her sister are far more used to the limelight, and it only takes a little encouragement to finish with Pomarbo lifted up, she and Silver Spoon standing precariously on their hind legs, him balancing one hoof on each of theirs. Their arch is barely tall enough for everypony to sweep under, and by the end her legs are screaming to let him dropo. But she grits her teeth, her grin never fading, until it’s finally near the end. She takes a deep breath as Bulk Biceps approaches - the pegasus would never fit between them - and, just as they practiced, she heaves Pomarbo into the air. He does a single flip, mostly unintentional, and lands right onto his sire’s shoulders to the excited cheers of the crowd.

Her chest heaves, finally getting relief, but there’s no time to rest. She trots to the front of the mass of Ponyville competitors, smiling and twisting her hoof to the audience as the rest of the towns and cities follow through. Belatedly she can hear an announcer introducing everycreature; she was so focused on her dance and the roar of the crowd that she couldn’t make it out before.

With everycreature in position, Emperor Spike flies to the great purple torch. A ridiculous contraption sits on his head, some sort of crystal headdress amid a braided wig, but he somehow pulls it off. Or is so self-confident he manages, a trait she wishes Pomarbo shared. He takes a deep breath before letting loose a long, thin gout of flame. The pyre catches immediately, going up in a blaze of orange and red and yellow.

“Let the games begin!”

Next Chapter: Ch. 190 - Overwhelming Odds, Part Five Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 57 Minutes