June 4th, 1001 Domina Solaria

Celestia carefully considers her hoof of cards, mouth a thin line as she stares at the pieces arrayed on the board in front of him. She selects a card, placing it face down and drawing a new one. “Japony Response.”

Doug, opposite her, ponders his action for a long time. “Air battle. United Equestrians against Western Equestria, discarding two to double attack.”

“Mm.” Celestia removes a blue piece and a purple piece, placing them in their respective stacks. “Germane Event. Blitzkrieg.”

“Drat.” Doug eyes the Codebreaker card in his discard he used against Bitaly earlier. “Stalliongrad builds a land army in Manehattan.”

“Fuel for the fire.” Celestia grins as she plays a card from a different hand. “Bitaly event, building a Germane Troop in Saddle Arabia and a boat in the southwest Lunar Ocean.”

Doug’s eyes widen. “You’re going for Klugetown and the Democratic Republic People’s Kingdom of Storm.” His forces are poorly arrayed for such an attack; he goes deep in the tank, trying to remember the dozens of cards played and what she has left. Can he interrupt her supply lines before she strikes a decisive blow against his allies? A buzzing draws him out of his contemplative state. “Oh. Time to raise the sun.”

“Indeed.” Celestia stares at the board, memorizing the position, before a soft golden glow places all the cards back into their respective places, the lid of the box shutting with a hiss of escaping air. “I have a busy day ahead of me.” She eyes him curiously, then the numerous boxes of similar strategy games that line the walls. “Is this all you wish to do?”

“I like thinking through everything,” Doug says, exchanging a quick kiss. He taps her noggin, just behind her horn. “It gives me insights on how you think.” He waits a beat. “And it’s the only arena I have any chance of competing with you.”

“Do not worry,” Celestia reassures. “They will forgive you for losing Ponyville the overall medal count.” She waits a beat. “Eventually.”

Doug rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have a sun to raise?”

Celestia winks. “As you wish.”

“Hey, that’s my line!” Doug gets out just as she disappears. He stands, stretching and rubbing his eyes, though he doesn’t regret getting up early to spend time with Celestia before her busy day. He heads to the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast for the hungry herd.

A moment later Luna appears outside with a muted crack, the sun rising through the open windows. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Doug replies, welcoming the uncharacteristically put-together pony with a fond hug. Most nights wreck her, leaving her looking like she lost a fight with a dumpster. “Pleasant night?”

“T’was less rigorous than most,” Luna says, eager for the pancakes he is preparing. "Much anxiety has passed, now that the dreaded event is over and done." She sits in the corner spot on the table as the other mares and fillies slowly make their way inside, licking her lips as he slides a plate stacked high and decorated with fruit and syrup. “What art thy plans for thine future?”

“Today the future or in general?” Doug says, greeting Applejack and Rainbow Dash with kisses that they return with only the barest of effort. The two mares trudge to the table; Applejack tries to hide her dislike for Luna and all things Canterlot, while Rainbow Dash does nothing to disguise her glare.

“In general,” Luna answers, returning to the mares only a look of smug superiority.

“Hmm,” Doug considers as he brings Applejack and Rainbow Dash plates piled with pancakes. “Be nice,” he growls, rubbing behind their ears with the unspoken threat of knocking their recalcitrant heads together. “Just because Canterlot won the most medals doesn’t mean you should be angry with Luna.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash share a glance. “Yer right,” Applejack drawls, Rainbow Dash following with a curt, “We should be mad at you.”

Doug sighs as the two mares turn their glares on him. “Did Celestia put you up to this?”

“Given thy new appellation,” Luna says, avoiding the question, “we thought it relevant.”

“Well, I’m not looking to plow any new fields,” Doug answers Luna. He taps the spatula against the griddle a few times as he thinks. “I suppose I wanted to raise the foals and watch them grow in harmony, but that might be out of the question.”

“Take solace,” Luna says through a mouthful of pancakes. Her magic wipes a blueberry off her muzzle, which she pops in her mouth. “Their displeasure art only temporary.”

“I’ll show you temporary displeasure,” Rainbow Dash mutters, though having a difficult time with it given the delicious pancakes in front of her. Her turgid belly growls, not to be denied.

“Speaking of temporary,” Doug says, second plates ready for the extra-hungry mares, “how are your fillies doing?”

“Apple Bloom and Scoots?” Applejack ponders for a moment. “Last Ah heard…”

“Wow!” Party Favor exclaims as two orange and red balloons inflate in front of his eyes, forming binoculars. He gasps as he peers through, the three ponies in front of him expanding to many times their small size. “I never knew balloons could be so versatile!” He snatches up the three Cutie Mark Crusaders in a huge hug. “Thank you!”

“Of course!” Apple Bloom grunts out as she squeezes back.

“You’re welcome!” Sweetie Belle says, grinning.

“We’re glad to help!” Scootaloo smiles.

All three Crusaders wave as Party Favor swiftly trots to the last unadorned rowhouse in Our Town. Everypony in town cheers him on, their cutie marks proudly displayed on their flanks. He concentrates for a moment before loosing a loud sneeze, and up from the ground springs a dozen inflated topiaries, the decorations giving much-needed color to the once-drab town.

The Crusaders admire their hoofwork. The town bursts with laughter and joy. Everypony has been reunited with their cutie mark, even the most seemingly-useless and droll-feeling ponies given a sense of purpose in their lives and a hope for their future. Nopony has expressed a desire to return to where they came from, instead to stay here and make this humble town their home.

All but one.

“You did it,” Starlight Glimmer says breathlessly, amazed at the progress the three young mares have made. After the first pony regained her mark and sense of purpose in life the others quickly followed like a puzzle whose solution reveals itself only after the first connection is made. “Your work here is done.”

“Almost,” Apple Bloom says leadingly.

“There’s just one more,” Sweetie Belle agrees.

It takes Starlight Glimmer a moment to realize there is only one pony who has not fully embraced her cutie mark, whose house is not festooned with bright banners and colorful decorations. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You can’t mean me!”

“Of course we can,” Scootaloo says, ignoring the unicorn’s wails.

"Just 'cause yer mark is on yer flank," Apple Bloom states, "doesn't mean ya've embraced it."

"Look around you," Sweetie Belle implores. All three Crusaders beam.

Starlight Glimmer does so, but only reluctantly.

"There's a whole host of ponies just waiting for you to join them," Scootaloo continues.

"They'd be right glad if'n ya did," Apple Bloom drawls.

"But I was wrong," Starlight Glimmer says. Her head hangs low. "Wrong about cutie marks, wrong about magic, wrong about everything. They deserve a better leader than me."

"You're wrong," Scootaloo states.

"See?" Starlight Glimmer sighs. "Wrong again."

Scootaloo grimaces, but Sweetie Belle is quick to take over. "That’s because, while your mark might be on your flank, you haven't embraced it."

"Early on," Scootaloo claims, "didn't you love practicing magic? Didn't you get a rush from molding the very fabric of reality?"

"Sure," Starlight Glimmer reluctantly allows.

Apple Bloom nods along. "Then maybe this town ain't the best place for ya ta flourish."

"You need a challenge," Sweetie Belle continues. "Something innovative, involving something never seen before in Equestria!"

Scootaloo grins. "Something where it matters that you've embraced your mark, not that-"

“-It’s on my flank,“ Starlight Glimmer interjects with a heavy sigh. "I get it. You want me to go back to your sire."

"We want ya back with our sire!" Apple Bloom exclaims, only to realize she just repeated what Starlight said. She offers a cheesy grin.

"It'd sure be a challenge," Sweetie Belle says. "Four alicorn foals?"

"Five whenever Cadance needs a break," Scootaloo says as a loud aside.

"And my four?" Starlight Glimmer asks, looking askance. "What about them?"

"Pff," Apple Bloom dismisses with a wave of her hoof. "Unicorn foals are easy."

"Hey," Sweetie Belle objects weakly.

“Her point is,” Scootaloo covers, “that your foals will need extra magic instruction. Well, so will the alicorns. Who better to develop an innovative, constantly evolving curriculum to best teach all of them?”

Starlight Glimmer stares at the Cutie Mark Crusaders, then at the spiraling wisp of blue on her flank. “I was perfectly happy,” she says with the last vestiges of her anger, “living in a world where everypony was equal. And you all came here and, and, and ruined what I built!”

“Good,” Apple Bloom says confidently.

“Good?” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo echo, confused.

Apple Bloom steps forward. “Because what ya built was built on a lie. We ain’t equal. But that ain’t bad!”

“We’re all created with different strengths and different talents and different marks,” Sweetie Belle adds. “What’s important is embracing those differences!”

“Ya wouldn’t bake a pie with only apples,” Scootaloo says.

“Speak for yourself,” Apple Bloom interjects.

Scootaloo continues, “See? We can have different ideas about what makes a pie. What’s important is that we stay friends!”

Starlight Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Because Friendship is Magic?”

“And Ah have to say,” Apple Bloom says with a wink, “that ya’ve got magic in spades.”

“So embrace what makes you you!” Sweetie Belle grins.

Scootaloo belts out, “It’s time to show them what you’ve got!”

Apple Bloom whispers, “Wrong musical number!”

“Oh, right,” Scootaloo whispers back. She sings, even louder than before, “Don’t ever think that it might be too late!”

“Ya don’t have to wait!” Apple Bloom picks up from the middle. “There’s no mistakes with the friends ya make!”

“I get it,” Starlight Glimmer groans. “You don’t have to-”

“A friendship’s only made of what you bring,” Sweetie Belle sings over her, the whole town starting to get in on the dancing. “And if you do it right, then you can do anything!”

Celestia steadily flaps her wings until she lands next to Chief Architect Chrysalis on a large white cloud overlooking Griffonstone. It’s a procedure she’s been through many times before, being consulted about starting a new town or city, and her golden seal of approval has never once led to disaster.

She desperately hopes this isn’t the first.

The split mountain rises like a beak chomping at the sky, the stone tree at the top a pitiful gray echo of Canterlot. The mountain itself is desolate, though not snowcapped, the closest trees long since logged and dragged up the steep slopes. The further down one goes the greener it gets, from sparse grass to shrugs to a dense forest. Four large clearings have been trampled into the thick forest below, the starting points for the support hamlets the ponies would need to create from scratch. The circles look painfully small, open to surprise attacks from the trees or (more likely) from the air. Still, the earth is fertile, the nearby lake provides fresh water, and being on the windward side of the mountain means they wouldn’t need to worry about irrigating, only sheltering from the daily rainstorms.

“I must say,” Celestia remarks to Chrysalis. “There’s a lot of potential.”

Chrysalis scoffs. “That has to be the nicest way of saying it’s a shithole.”

Celestia offers a wan smile. No, the real ‘shithole’ would be the inside of the split mountain, where the griffons have been dumping their refuse for generations. “You have done more with less.”

“Indeed,” Chrysalis preens, unable to resist the compliment. “The Badlands were a challenge. A grub could manage to thrive here.”

“By taking advantage of the solitary nature of the griffons?” Celestia guesses.

“Not something we have done,” Chrysalis claims, recalling the vivid memories of being accused as much by the griffons. “But even without such a straightforward scheme? As you said, there is a lot of potential, but also for us to learn about building a city from the ground up.”

Celestia cocks her head, glad to learn any she can of the changelings. “What do you mean?”

“All our previous hives developed organically. As needs grew, so did our tunnels, but often led to inefficiencies as existing infrastructure interfered with optimal routes.” Chrysalis motions to the desolate mountaintop. “It also presents the challenge of developing in two dimensions, rather than three.

“But,” Celestia says, hoping for her to elaborate, “don’t griffons fly?

“Yes,” Chrysalis answers, sneering, “but try telling one they need to live underneath another. Or that their roost is best positioned underground. Go on, try it.”

Celestia knows how well that would go. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Perhaps?” Chrysalis scoffs. “Of course I’m right. No, the real challenge will be convincing the griffons that they must accept the inclusion of a species with views completely antithetical to their own.”

Celestia cannot hide her grin. “Good thing you are a master at worming her way into hostile societies.”

Chrysalis narrows her eyes at the alicorn. “Is that a bug joke?”

The Dragon Lands are a harsh land, as inhospitable as their people, who grew up swimming in lakes of lava and sharpening their claws on obsidian when they aren’t sharpening them on each other. Terrifying beasts roam the land, from the earth-burrowing Tatzlwurm whose hunger for magic never ceases, to the geyser-spewing sea wyrms, to the massive rocs that roam the skies.

But none is as dread-inducing as the dragon. Devious and despised, these solitary creatures only congregate for one reason: to elect a new Dragon Lord. Everydragon competes to claim the Bloodstone Scepter for themselves, for whoever holds this scepter has proven that they have the might and cunning to rule over the unruly bunch, their every word considered law.

In the middle of a large, lava-filled caldera broken on one side and making a perfect amphitheater, a small red dragon holds the scepter aloft amid the groaning bodies of his new subjects. What Dragon Lord Garble lacks in size he makes up in fierceness, instilling a terror in his fellow dragons never seen before. He laughs, a loud and grating cackle, gazing upon his domain.

Off on the ridge stands a solitary pony, Princess Celestia observing the ritual with a carefully neutral expression. She notes the presence of Emperor Spike on the outskirts of the horde and how he studiously ignores her. He did not compete against the others, but still answered the Call of the Dragon Lord.

“I am the new Dragon Lord!” Garble declares, his voice booming against the jagged rocks.

“Garble! Garble! Garble!”

The fierce dragon revels in the chant, basking as it continues on and on and on. Finally he grows bored, silencing the horde of dragons with a sharp slash of his claws.

“For too long dragons have slunk in the shadows, content to live in caves and eke out a meager existence mining gems that we traded to the ponies.” Dragon Lord Garble paces back and forth, building a rage that echoes in the surrounding dragons. “Those anointed ponies want to keep us there, reduced as nothing more than a novelty, a bangle about their wrist, a banner on their wall to show how enlightened and harmonious they are! They wish to keep us pampered and sated, existing on their largesse! Is that the kind of life we want?”

The collected dragons glance about at each other, unsure of the correct response.

“No!” Garble thunders. “Are dragons livestock, to be fed and herded and tended by our benevolent pony caretakers?”

That question, at least, is more obvious. The roar that comes back is deafening. “NO!”

“Are we to live,” Garble bellows, “defanged and declawed, neutered in the name of namby-pamby ponies?!”

“No!!”

“What proves the might of a dragon?” Garble demands. “Is it the size of his hoard?” He points at the pony off in the distance. “She has a large hoard. Maybe the largest ever!” He sneers. “And if you promise to be good, she might even share it with you!”

Hisses and boos fill the caldera. A few even flap their wings as though to take flight and harass her.

“What makes a dragon,” Garble shouts, “is adversity! The power of the foe you fell! And the idea of competition is one ponies would eliminate from your lives! They want you to become weak!”

The hisses turn to roars of rage as great gouts of fire light the sky.

“Pony!” Dragon Lord Garble yells, pointing at the white silhouette against the blue sky. “You and your kind are no longer welcome here. Begone!”

With a look of sadness Celestia’s horn glows gold, and she disappears.

Garble turns to the gathered dragons. “We shall take whatever we want from Equestria,” he shouts, smashing one fist into the other as roars reverberate the ground underneath him, “and burn the rest!”