April 5th, 1001 Domina Solaria

“Couldn't help but make the place look like home, huh?”

Princess Twilight Sparkle briefly looks up from the veritable hurricane of paper surrounding her. She hadn’t bothered to examine the intricately detailed maps pinned to every wall of the commandeered captain's cabin, or the volumes on Equestria’s neighboring cultures. It does remind her of the Golden Oak’s walls, and how much she misses them. She’d probably be madder at the comparison if it wasn’t so on the muzzle.

Standing in the doorway is her herd’s ‘stallion’, the only human in Equestria, Prince-Consort Doug Apple. The rising sun glints off his ceremonial armor, polished cobalts and radiant oranges complementing his bright expression. If only she felt the same.

“You destroyed my home,” she replies, a touch of her exasperation seeping through as she glances outside through the porthole.

Much of the hustle and bustle around Canterlot has died off, leaving only a swarm of black spots staining an otherwise pristine sky. Colorful specks scurry among the abandoned remains of her Festival of Friendship, the nobles desperately trying to salvage the situation. Trixie, Starlight Glimmer and the seven fillies and single colt of the herd have paused in their efforts to keep everypony’s spirits up, congregating close to the departing airship and waving. A dejected sigh replaces her friendly smile as the glance turns into a long stare, the papers she was examining forming neat stacks as her raspberry aura snuffs out. She’d miss them, even Trixie, but the other mares in the herd would miss them even more.

His face falls for a moment, then perks back up in a valiant effort. “In my defense, I built you a castle to replace it. Just slightly less visible.”

Doug’s jovial tone fails to lift her spirits, her head bowing slightly to rest the tip of her muzzle against the thick glass.

“Sorry your party got thrown off track?” Doug tries again as he walks to her side. A gloved hand tussles her ear as he joins her, arm lightly squeezing her barrel. He can’t help but smile, even with the somber mood; with every passing day she gets a little bigger, and it’s hard to tell if that’s because of her alicornication a little over a month ago or his twins growing inside her. He waves at his pack, sorrowful at leaving them, but Klugetown is no place for the overly curious and rambunctious fillies.

Twilight stares at the gloves Rarity made him. Nine marks adorn the knuckles; the ornate sun and moon on his thumbs are the most recent additions, her own on the third finger on his left hand. She fondly remembers the night her mark joined that of her friend’s, barely beating Trixie for the nugatory placement, yet her muzzle remains a tightly pursed line.

“It’s just been one thing after another,” Twilight says, her voice heavy. “Discord at the Gala, getting my wings, Sombra and the Crystal Empire, Chrysalis and the changelings, them joining us, Tirek and Discord nearly destroying everything. And now this!” A flash of rage crosses her face as she angrily waves a hoof at the largest of the armored black airships, the pink smear across the bow of the flagship not enough to buoy her spirits. “What right does the Council of Creatures have to blame Princess Celestia for what happened? It’s not like it was her fault!”

“Yeah,” Doug commiserates bitterly. He takes a deep breath as both hands work their way down her long neck, digging into the tense muscles. He relishes the guttural groan, how her wings inch away from her sides, the way her head raises and eyes close in something akin to ecstasy.

“I just want...” Twilight says through gritted teeth, struggling to force the words out. She loves the contact, but hates herself for getting distracted at such a precarious time. She needs to spend this time researching, not… delighting in base pleasures! “A month. A week. A day, an hour! to figure this all out without some disaster looming on the horizon!”

A faint whine signals the starting of their engines. They barely notice the floor lurching, watching Canterlot slowly fall away as Equestria’s finest airship, the Lunaris Priestess, rises into the sky.

The corners of Doug’s mouth twitch. “I’m sure everything will be just fine.” He ducks down to avoid her tail swatting at him as he comes to her withers. His strokes become longer, pausing more, even twisting the mare toward him in the hopes that she might reciprocate. It’s only once a wing stretches out to lightly press against his back does he finally relax, hugging her close. The two rest for a long moment, enjoying the view of the alabaster city until the airship turns to the south. Two quick pats signal the end of his impromptu massage. “Though you’ll need to enjoy your respite after this is all said and done; come ten months from now, none of us will get any rest.”

“Aww, you stopped,” Twilight playfully teases, a quick flick of her head brushing her mane against his arm. She grins as he scratches her coat, a hoof joining his hand and lightly guiding him to her belly. Her eyes close as she leans her head against his chest. She wishes the breastplate wasn’t there, a cold reminder of the dangers of their destination. And the stacks of papers, legal precedent and previous suits that might pertain to their situation. She can feel the anxiety building in her, a fierce desire to dive headfirst into the cases.

“So,” she asks with a slight smirk, forestalling that arduous task a moment longer. “Did you come here just to distract me?“

“Maybe.” Doug leans close, nuzzling his mare, the soft touch turning to a light kiss. He sighs as a knock comes at the door, breaking away to a less conspicuous distance. “Spike?”

“Your dragon is on his way,” Prince Lunaris Blueblood states neutrally as he walks into his quarters, an exquisitely well-tailored yet plain saddlebag on one side. The long, thin bag containing his twin rapiers is on the other. “Apparently he had an issue securing all the papers in his possession when we took off.”

Twilight huffs, sticking her head up to the porthole. A colorful cerulean blur darts this way and that, often disappearing behind the airship.

“But if you’re here,” Doug asks jovially, “then who’s flying this thing?”

“The esteemed Commander Tempest,” Lunaris replies icily, “though the thought of the Princesses fleeing with their tails between their legs is laughably ludicrous. She will likely return to the Roephelle Strompair once we are cruising. Did you want to try your hoof at the helm again?”

“Better than being cramped down here,” Doug says, elbowing Twilight in the side. She returns with a jab of her hind leg, snaking under his faulds to poke his thigh, both of them grinning.

“Good.” Lunaris ignores the banter as he trots to his desk, dropping off the saddlebag. He idly moves one of Twilight’s stacks of paper so the detailed map of Equestria underneath is visible. He taps a hoof at the bottom of the main continent. “Are you familiar with the... city of Klugetown?”

Doug frowns at the contemptuous way Lunaris spits out the word ‘city’. “Not especially, besides that it’s to our south.”

“It’s one of the more prosperous port cities on the southern end of the continent,” Twilight supplies helpfully. She misses the way Lunaris’ eyes roll, still watching Rainbow Dash flit back and forth. “An independent city-state, or principality, that serves as the home of the Council of Creatures. The Storm King provides security and protection at their behest. Not that anycountry would think to conquer it, but there are lots of factions that vie for control of not only the mercantile industries but also manufacturing and...” She grins meekly. “Too much?”

“Far be it for me to criticize the information a Princess deems necessary to provide.” Lunaris’ throat rumbles with an irritated sigh. He stays focused on Doug. “You have your bits on you?”

A sharp clearing of the unicorn’s throat stops Doug’s hand as it goes toward his back pocket. “What?”

“For the duration of your stay in Klugetown-” Lunaris' cobalt aura pulls out of his saddlebag a nondescript brown bag with a cheap, easily broken drawstring. It jingles with the clink of gold. “-This is where you think you keep your bits.”

“‘Kay,” Doug says, a slight hesitation before he takes the bag and loops it around his neck. He frowns slightly as a second bag, exactly the same as the first, follows into the air. “What’s this?”

“Everycreature knows,” Lunaris continues dryly, “that Equestrian nobility keep a second bag of bits to keep their real bag of bits safe.” He passes it over.

It jingles in much the same way as Doug stashes it around an arm. He frowns as a third bag comes out.

“Everycreature knows,” Lunaris drolls out in the same monotone, “that Equestrian nobility keep a third bag of bits to keep their fake bag of bits safe in order to keep their real bag of bits safe.”

Doug’s shoulders slump as he massages against the headache he knows is coming. “How many bags do you have for me?”

Lunaris glances inside his saddlebag. It is packed to the brim. “How many do you think I have for you?”

“Six?” Doug asks hopefully.

“Then I have seven.” Four more identical bags join the two in Doug’s hand. A quill checks off Doug’s name from his list that Lunaris passes to Twilight. "Do try to keep them safe."

“That was fast,” Twilight says happily, filing the completed checklist with dozens of others. She checks a little box on her master checklist. “Want another?”

“Perhaps later,” Lunaris says, walking to the bunk at the back of the room. He lays ponyloaf on top, a disinterested glare at the alicorn invading his cabin before he closes his eyes. “Wake me for dinner; I should not like to miss a meal before I take over.”

“We’ll be flying all night?” Doug asks.

Lunaris nods slightly. “It is not a day’s walk, unless one pushed themself to the brink of exhaustion. And that’s assuming you took the train to the Bone Dry Desert. I pity anypony foalish enough to attempt such a trip.” He shakes his head once before going still, head slumping as a light snore escapes his muzzle.

“Well,” Doug says, tussling Twilight’s mane another time. “I guess I’ll see how everypony else is doing.”

“You do that,” Twilight says, exchanging a light kiss. “Thanks for coming to see me.” She grins as he leaves, returning to her papers with a heavy sigh.

“No, I love you more.”

Doug rolls his eyes as he walks out on the topdeck, the conversation getting louder even as the words stay the same. Nestled against the outer railing, is a mostly white, only slightly green-tinged unicorn, cerulean eyes locked into the light purple of his wife’s. Her pink wing drapes reassuringly over her husband’s back, calming strokes helping keep the third helping of Pinkie Pie’s delicious cake from getting lost overboard.

“No,” Prince Consort Shining Armor stammers out this time. He gulps, doing his best to not take his gaze away from his wife’s radiance. “I love you more.”

“Get a room, you two!” Doug jokes as he joins them on the starboard quarter.

“Doug!” Shining Armor greets with a flick of his head. He flashes him a toothy smile, only for Princess Cadance’s hoof to immediately twist his head back to face her. “Remind me,” he says between enforced kisses, “to thank you and Twily again for helping with this.” He pats his wife’s taut belly, again relinquishing sovereignty of his muzzle to the pink invader with an acquiescent grin.

Doug chuckles as he glances around. The rest of the Elements are spread out along the railings, Pinkie Pie leading them in a marathon game of ‘I Spy’. It’s easy to spot Applejack’s frustration as she tries to think of both a clue and an object that hasn’t been used before, Pinkie Pie’s eidetic memory in silly games like this in full effect.

Everypony who lacks wings - including, to her chagrin, Fluttershy - has a parachute backpack with ripcord in easy mouth range. He subconsciously fingers his own; normally, the mares eschewed the measure, counting on Equestrian engineering and fellow flyers as their safety net. But the Prince had cautioned, and Princesses concurred, that the likelihood of an abrupt disembarking is far higher than on a routine trip.

“Sure. But, you didn’t hear it from me,” Doug adds quietly, counting on the steady ‘soi, soi, soi’ of the warship ahead of them to drown out his words from the sharp-eared mares. Shining Armor and Cadance both lean in. “Twilight might have complained about any, ahem, reminders of her BBBFF and foalsitter getting it on. Not that she minded helping, of course.”

“So she doesn’t like the teasing,” Shining Armor says, staring off into space as a hoof strokes his spreading grin. “I’ll have to crank it up; after all, I’m pretty sure I was getting it in.”

“Shiny,” Cadance corrects, her melodious voice nevertheless a harsh rebuke that gets Shining Armor’s ears to lay flat.

“I’m sorry,” he says contritely, head bobbing.

“We’re a married couple now,” Cadance continues sternly.

“I know, I know,” Shining Armor says with a heavy sigh.

They say in stereo, “We do this together.”

Shining Armor’s eyes twinkle as his ears perk back up. “It’s going to get worse.”

“Way worse,” Cadance echoes mirthfully. “You’d think after joining a herd and having twins on the way she’d be less prudish about the subject.”

“Well, you are the Princess of Love,” Shining Armor says with a wry chuckle. “Maybe that’s your special power.” He nuzzles her, quickly adding, “One of your special powers.”

Cadance rolls her eyes as he winks lewdly.

“About that earlier suggestion,” Shining Armor continues mischievously. “Want to join the high-flying club?”

Cadance pulls back in shock, a hoof coming to her muzzle as she stares wide-eyed at her husband. “What do you mean, join?!” she spits out, muscles clenching as she visibly holds back from smacking the goofy grin off his muzzle. “You say that like you’re already a member, yet the only mares with you the time you were on an airship were his-” she flicks her mane at Doug “-and her.”

Her eyes don’t move, but Doug’s do. On the port railing and idly gouging a divot into the railing rests an obsidian plated changeling. Brilliant emerald wings sparkle in the sunlight, much to her obvious consternation, given the agitated way she folds them this way and that to avoid the light reflecting into her narrowed iridescent eyes. Cobalt locks, thick and braided on both mane and tail, spill over her tumescent barrel.

There are no chains around her now-whole legs, or restraints on her full wings, or even an inhibitor on her still-jagged horn. The accusations against her - deposing sovereign nations, industrial espionage, and keeping records of which high level officials in the Council had used her underlings’ ‘services’ - would certainly merit such shackles. She had grudgingly agreed to come to this ‘maulwurf court’ only after Princess Celestia gave her word to do her utmost to defend the newest addition to Equestria’s populace. The Council agreed because the Princess would take her place should the Changeling Queen… disappear.

“Cady, it’s not like that,” Shining Armor belabors, this time the one to pull his spouse’s muzzle to face his own. “I told you what happened between us.”

“You did,” Cadance says grimly.

“And she promised to be Honest,” Shining Armor continues, nodding along.

“As honest as she can be,” Cadance mutters.

“And she told you what she did while you were…-n’t there.”

“Imprisoned, you mean,” Cadance spits out. “She nearly robbed me of my wedding night.” Her scowl deepens.

“It’s not healthy to keep bringing that up,” Shining Armor says as he nuzzles his wife. “It’s in the past. She’s different now.” He gives her another, more forceful nuzzle. “And I’ve tried to make it up to you every night since then.” He winks at her salaciously. “You’ve enjoyed that, right?”

“Mm,” Cadance dourly grunts out. “Sorry. Not in the mood. Though I’d bet she’d be more than willing to help.”

“You know that’s not what I want,” Shining Armor protests, staying at her side even as she nudges him away.

Cadance huffs, facing the floor, eyes closed. She barely flinches when a shadow blocks the sunlight.

Shining Armor’s eyelids grind against each other as he digs a furrow in his forehead. “Great,” he mutters, his sigh more a bleak grunt. “Is it that time already?” He sets a hoof under him, pushing up.

“I…” comes the Queen’s flinching reply before her maw clenches together, two fangs like ivory daggers twisting her frown to a malevolent glare. One long ebony leg, heavy set with bulky muscles that strain to lift her own weight, callously pushes the unicorn down. “I didn’t come here for you.”

A deep growl rumbles in the back of Shining Armor’s throat, though he has little chance of physically overpowering his second ‘mare’. He twists his head against the floor, scowling at Doug. Cadance opens a single eye, her animosity quickly replaced by concern.

“What?” Doug asks glibly. He stays locked on the shimmering eyes peering over him, a faint smile skittering across his features that ends with flicking his head in greeting. Yet he detects a hint of sadness in those eyes, a desperate longing that would never be allowed to surface. He opens his mouth, about to comment on it, before the reformed changeling interrupts.

“Never mind,” Chrysalis spits out, a shake of her head drumming her locks against her side. She spins, her gravid belly undulating as she stomps away.

Doug frowns in confusion, glancing at Shining Armor. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Shining Armor states coldly. He huffs as his wife gently prods him. “That you need to worry about.”

Cadance matches his huff with one of her own. “Chryssy has been having… problems.” She sits up a little bit more, shaking some of the doldrums out of her mane.

“Cady…” Shining Armor hangs his head slightly.

“Well, I do like fixing things,” Doug says jocularly. He continues despite Armor’s muted glare. “You could say it gets me going.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you go fix everything,” Shining Armor mutters bitterly.

“If I had phenomenal, cosmic powers?” Doug’s voice booms, getting everypony’s head to briefly turn. He flexes his arms, a cheeky grin smooching at his biceps.

“I don’t think that helped,” Cady interjects with a snicker.

Now it’s Doug’s turn to roll his eyes as he deflates. “Alright, you got me.” He ruffles a perky pink ear, drawing an appreciative coo. “You two doing okay?”

“We’re doing well,” Cadance responds guilelessly, offering Doug a friendly smile. “We’ll be happy to get back to Canterlot once this is all over.”

“Yeah.” Doug raises an imaginary glass to the alicorn. “I second that!”

Her pink hoof shoots up, tapping against Doug’s hand.

Shining Armor stays against the floor, grunting as he glares, mostly at Chrysalis.

“Aww, don’t be like that.” Cadance leans down, nuzzling the triple-hued locks. She nips at his ear when he doesn’t respond. “Still feeling a little sick?”

“No,” Shining Armor mutters.

“Mm,” Cadance returns coquettishly. “Well, if you were, I thought we could find a room below decks. But if you’re feeling fine, then-”

A fit of coughing suddenly overtakes the unicorn.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Cadance consoles, nuzzling her husband as she tenderly runs a hoof along his back. She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry I got angry.”

“No, I get it,” Shining Armor says reassuringly. “I’d be mad too if I thought you were foaling around with anypony, before or after we got together.”

“Mm.” Cadance smiles weakly. “I bet you’re getting lots of offers, now that you’re a full-fledged Prince Consort.” She nuzzles closer into him, horn sliding against his neck. She grips her hooves around him, holding tight like she never wants to let go.

“Heh, I wish.” Shining Armor shakes his head for emphasis. His statement draws a disappointed huff from Cadance. “Other than Rare-”

He cuts off, gulping as he glances at Doug.

The human looks more pensive than angry at the reminder. “Don’t worry, we worked that out. Even if we had to go through it a second time, considering Lunaris as the sire. Although…” he draws the word out, staring out at the endless sky. “Would you have? If we couldn’t have foals, or if she wasn’t okay with them being magically stunted?”

“That’s…” Shining Armor stammers, twisting his head to look at Cadance. “That’s a tough question.”

Cadance doesn’t look happy, merely staring at the wooden railing. The hoof stroking her husband’s side slows down, but doesn’t stop.

“And if she’s fully capable of having a healthy foal with her stallion?” Doug grimaces at his own question, neither pony answering. Doug muses, “I had a few ask the day the news came out. But that dried up, probably because nopony got anywhere, and we were all busy with the wedding preparations. After heat week was over? Nothing. At least, Applejack never told me about any.” He pauses for a moment, sighing to himself. “Doesn’t seem right.”

“You’d tell me if you got any, right?” Cadance asks solemnly.

“Of course, dear.” Shining Armor nuzzles his wife, and she meets his eyes this time.

“Good.” She grins as he leaps to his hooves, though it shifts to a wry smile as he sways uneasily. “Let’s see if I can remind you why I’m the only mare you’ll ever want to love.”

Doug chuckles as Cadance leads Shining Armor away. He leaps back as Spike hurries past him, clutching half a dozen scrolls and loose papers to his chest as he barrels into Twilight’s room, barely able to spare a claw to wave at his ‘sire’. Doug shakes his head, staying clear of the ornery changeling to see what the rest of his mares are up to.

“I spy…” Pinkie Pie draws out, scratching her hoof with a chin, “something that contains… apple!”

“Apples,” Applejack immediately says, looking quite perturbed as all eyes go on her. It bothers Doug slightly that this might be a possible answer.

“Nope!”

“Applejack,” Fluttershy tries.

“Nope!”

“Applejack’s hat,” Rarity guesses.

“Nope!”

“Apple cider?” Rainbow asks hopefully.

“Nope!”

“Awww,” Rainbow Dash moans. She glances at Applejack. “Please tell me you got some cider on board, and we’re not full up on cake.”

Applejack smirks as she reaches a hoof inside her hat, only to frown as a cerulean blur deprives her of the precious amber liquid. She shakes her head, smirking at the pegasus guzzling it down. “We squeezed a barrel on board, but it’s for the return trip!”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash retorts with a pungent burp. “Probably shouldn’t have told me that.”

“Dash…” Applejack scowls.

“Hoofwrestle for your share?” Rainbow Dash drops the empty cider bottle, propping her elbow on the railing.

“You’re on!” Applejack grunts as orange strains against cerulean. “Ah should let ya know, Ah’ve been trainin’ since we last went!”

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie exclaims. “No starting a new game while the first one isn’t finished!”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash stay locked in place, growling.

Pinkie Pie takes an exaggeratedly large breath, then belts out, “Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-”

“Ugh, fine,” Rainbow Dash moans, though neither pony relinquishes their grip on the other. She looks over the side, trying to see as far ahead of her as she can.

“Grapple?” Doug asks as he wades into the melee, ruffling both Applejack and Rainbow’s manes.

“Nope!”

“That’s a good one,” Applejack mutters to herself, only tearing her gaze away from Rainbow to the extent the pegasus does the same to her. She gives Doug the shortest nuzzle she can before growling, again zeroing in on the third mare of the herd.

“Appleloosa?” Rainbow Dash asks, having looked past Applejack at the earth pony settlement far in the distance.

“Yupperoines!” Pinkie Pie scribbles something down. “That’s five for me…”

“We must be making good time,” Doug remarks, leaning over the railing.

“Nah, I’ve just got really sharp eyes.” Rainbow Dash points toward the horizon. “And we’re going super slow.”

“Okay, Rainbow, you’re up!”

“I spy…” Rainbow Dash says with a cocky smirk, “a winner!” She slams her hoof as hard as she can against Applejack’s.

The earth pony is unyielding. “Oh, ya spy me? Ah’m touched.”

“What?” Rainbow Dash exclaims. “No! It’s me!” She grunts as she strains, slowly pushing the orange hoof over.

“That’s what Ah said!” Applejack grins despite her hoof bending back painfully. “It’s me!”

“Rainbow Dash loses!” Pinkie Pie shouts, a loud blast from a horn that wasn’t there before startling the pegasus.

“Wait, what?” Rainbow Dash says, her concentration breaking long enough to let Applejack smack her hoof against the railing. “Hey!”

“Hah!” Applejack smirks, holding the struggling cerulean hoof down.

“You can’t give away the answer without letting everypony guess!” Pinkie Pie shakes her head, disappointed. “I’ve told you this a dozen times now! Don’t make it a baker’s dozen!” She leans in close, stage whispering in Rainbow Dash’s ear despite her obvious discomfort, “Thirteen’s an unlucky number!”

Doug slinks away from the three bickering mares toward Fluttershy and Rarity. The pegasus’ smile seems genuine, Rarity’s considerably more forced. At least, when it can be seen under her giant floppy hat. “Having fun?”

“If by fun,” Rarity says through half-gritted teeth, “you mean sufficiently distracted from the fact that I am marching into the dragon’s maw wearing this?” She flicks her mane back disdainfully, indicating her hat and accompanying straps to keep it in place. “It’s all I had on hoof, and there’s no way I would step into one of my competitor’s shops.”

“Sounds like you need a Canterlot outlet,” Doug says, the corners of his mouth curling up.

“Please, darling.” Rarity dismisses the idea with a wave of her hoof. “With seven foals on the way? I won’t be surprised if I am conscripted into making diapers instead of dresses.”

“Not counting Starlight’s?” Doug remarks to himself. He says a little louder, “Well, at least as long as you keep doing the things you love.” He rubs his hand into her curled mane.

Rarity snuggles up to her stallion, one of the few creatures she trusts to wiggle his way into her mane without destroying it. “With the orders that have been pouring in ever since the Princesses joined the herd?” Her cobalt eyes beam brightly. “Doug, I cannot express how happy it makes me to turn down offers I do not find inspiring. Unbeholden to a bottom line!”

“Yeah,” Doug sympathizes. He’s taken on all comers for his job as weather scheduler, now handling most of the cities in Equestria. Each provides their own unique challenges, keeping it from getting too repetitive. Some days, though? He wants to blow it off and spend more time with the mares just hanging out and getting to know them.

Rarity jolts upwards, shouting “~Idea!~” before racing belowdecks. It’s enough of a distraction that Doug doesn’t notice Rainbow Dash and Applejack rolling around until they take out his legs.

Other days, he’s glad he’s cooped up in the relative safety of his office.

He flops to the floor, breath knocked out with a hearty *whump*. His armor doesn’t cushion his fall at all, merely adding to the weight.

Pinkie Pie pronks past, ignoring his plight. “Applejack!” the pink pony protests. “You haven’t given your clue!”

“Ah spy,” Applejack grits out as she crashes into one of the railings. It shudders somewhat distressingly. “Something with apple!”

“Oh, come on!” Rainbow Dash grunts out. “Apples!”

“Really?” Applejack spits back. “Is that all you think Ah can think of?”

“Applejack’s hat!” Pinkie Pie guesses with more enthusiasm than the rest of the mares combined. She goes into even more of a frenzy when the farmpony shakes her head, unable to spare the breath with Rainbow Dash wrestling her. “Applejack’s coat! Applejack’s rope!”

“Thanks,” Doug mutters to Fluttershy as she lends him a hoof. She smiles as she takes to the air, leaving him to dodge the rolling ball of mare as it careens past again. “Perhaps this isn’t the safest spot.”

“Maybe not,” Fluttershy agrees, her wings beating to keep from falling back. She waves as he retreats to the stern. “Take care!”

Doug passes Chrysalis, his faint smile obviously not the greeting she is hoping for. She scowls, though any expression of hers seems as such. She looks away, giving him no indication she wants him to stay, and he proceeds up the short climb to the top of the captain’s cabin.

At the helm, a deep orchid hoof guiding the wheel, stands Commander Tempest Shadow. Her muzzle is set in a harsh grimace that might have been carved from stone if not for how it deepens as she watches the ponies at play. Malevolent green eyes flick across him, baring a few more teeth.

Doug ignores Tempest Shadow’s pointed glare, her scarred eye narrowing. It’s not like she had been hiding, the helm visible from just about any point abovedeck. He tries, unsuccessfully, to keep his gaze from flicking to her broken horn, or the sparks that occasionally fling off, or her deepening scowl. It’s the first time he’s seen a pony crippled, or even permanently scarred - physically, that is, as his foals struggle with using magic. It does make him wonder if she suffers similarly, but from her imperious stature and high ranking in the Storm King’s army it can’t be that much of a detriment.

Laying ponyloaf a pace away are the diarchs of Equestria. Luna rests with lidded eyes, head nestled in the crook of her Sister’s neck, horn almost hidden by alabaster fur. It makes Doug a little jealous, seeing the mare in such a cozy position - one of the more intimate, especially for unicorns (and alicorns), with one exposed to a sharp horn, the other tucking subserviently.

Celestia serenely watches the horizon, her head high, ignoring the dozen black sails in loose formation around them. Only Pinkie Pie comes close to her seeming lack of concern. As Doug comes up the ramp her faint smile brightens to a motherly warmth, despite her first foal still residing in her belly. A single wing raises with a fond invitation to join her side, and quite an inviting side it is.

Yet Doug finds his attention turning back to Tempest Shadow, wondering what might have marred her such that it discolors, but doesn’t remove, the fur in a single vertical line across her right eye, yet the eye itself is undamaged.

“What?” Tempest Shadow demands. Her voice is cold, hard, and thinly veils her contempt.

Doug frowns as he walks up to the helm, refamiliarizing himself with the various dials and instruments. The setup is similar to a modern sailboat with a polished mahogany wheel next to altimeter, altitude, heading, and wind speed, among others. The airspeed jumps out, confirming Rainbow Dash’s assertion, though she had been nice enough not to call it a human’s pace.

“Making sure everything’s where I remember,” Doug says smoothly, running a hand along one of the two short walls that makes up the helm. It conceals the canopy, currently retracted, that protects the pilot from heavy wind or other elements. “It’s only been a few months, but Lunaris might have changed things around.”

The whole ship is built to be modular, and Tempest Shadow grunts as she idly rests a hoof on the throttle, which connects to two large fans on the bottom of the cobalt balloon above. It’s at the second-lowest setting, the engine an almost imperceptible hum.

“Also,” Doug continues, “to see if you, I don’t know, wanted someone else to take over flying.” He offers a half-hearted shrug. “Not sure how much time you spend piloting instead of just ordering ponies around.” He pauses for a moment, the unicorn still not responding. “Do you order ponies around?”

“Yes,” Tempest says curtly.

“Huh.” Doug folds downward until he is at eye level with Tempest Shadow. Her glare doesn’t abate in the slightest. He leans against the railing opposite the Princesses, steadily watching the three ponies. He finds himself fixating on the broken horn.

“Did you have something else?” Tempest Shadow asks after a long, uncomfortable pause. She snorts derisively at his uncomfortable look. “If you’re so interested, you could just ask.”

“Mm,” Doug stalls, watching a spark lazily drift to the deck where it winks out. “How did it happen?”

The harsh glare fades slightly, turning to a stare punctuated by a curious tilt of her head. “You know,” Tempest Shadow draws out as her gaze shifts to the south, “I do believe you are the first creature to actually ask me that.” She isn’t forthcoming with anything else, just steadily watching the horizon.

“I’m guessing you weren’t born with it,” Doug says, apple and sun scratching at his chin.

Tempest Shadow takes a deep breath before giving the barest of nods. “An Ursa Minor, before I had my mark.”

“I imagine it was difficult,” Doug says when the unicorn doesn’t continue. “I know it has been for my foals. Sweetie Belle especially.” He frowns when he can’t recall a single one of the Crusader’s friends who are unicorns. Okay, there’s Snips and Snails, but they hardly count. Oh, and Pumpkin Cake, and Dinky Doo, but they’re a bit young.

“You know nothing of what it was like,” Tempest Shadow states darkly. Doug’s eyebrows narrow, though he says nothing. “They at least had each other growing up.”

“I suppose,” Doug concedes. He leans back slightly, deciding a change of topic is in order. “Twilight was telling me about how the Storm King’s forces are made up of volunteers from each of the Council’s member nations.” He glances back, Canterhorn Mountain a lonely landmark against a backdrop of the snow-capped Frozen North. “You’ve got your ponies, griffons, Abyssinians. Dragons, and others.”

“True,” Tempest Shadow says, sounding bored, probably because he could look up all this information, especially with the Princesses nearby, without bothering her.

Doug taps a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “I imagine it wouldn’t sit right with many of them, ponies especially, if you had actually ‘conquered’ Canterlot and Equestria.”

“Your ignorance of the political situation is appalling,” Tempest Shadow retorts. Off to the side, Celestia’s muzzle curls to a slight frown.

“Oh?” Doug snaps, arms crossing in front of him. He immediately relaxes his aggressive posture, trying to keep a friendly banter to his words. “I thought Equestria was everycreature’s friend.”

“Of course they are,” Tempest Shadow continues with a sneer. “After all, who wouldn’t want to be chummy with a nation whose leader could singlehoofedly roast your entire country to ash?”

Celestia’s teeth clink as they set against each other.

“And yet,” Tempest Shadow continues over Doug’s opening mouth, deliberately not looking at the solar diarch, “you waste this power on parties instead of righting wrongs and making the entire world a better place! And you leave yourself open to betrayers who would twist your nation to their nefarious ends!”

At the word ‘betrayers’ Queen Chrysalis looks up from the deck below. Her glare, twin protruding fangs making it as malevolent as always, don’t so much as twitch at the hidden accusation. She methodically turns her gravid body to face the unicorn, taking extra time so her massive bulk doesn’t wobble. With ponderously slow steps she marches up the ramp.

“Is that what they want?” Doug asks inquisitively, arms crossing. “Those that you would save from themselves?”

“It doesn’t matter what they want,” Tempest Shadow spits out. “The Council allowed the atrocities in Abyssinia for too long. They hoped the insurgents, those that didn’t care for the slavers and those fighting to turn the practice legal, even acceptable, might have prevailed. Had the Council intervened earlier, they might still have a voice instead of being scattered to the winds.” She turns a cold eye at Celestia, finally acknowledging the alicorn. “And you have the power to prevent the coming calamity, if only you had the will to do so.”

“You must be talking about me,” Chrysalis says as she crests the upper deck, her muzzle twisting to a fanged grin. She offers the unicorn a short, sardonic bow. “I’m honored you think so highly of me, that I would be capable of such a deception.”

“You.” A shower of sparks erupts from the broken horn in a dazzling display as Tempest Shadow whirls on the changeling queen. She stamps a hoof, which seems timid only when compared to the burst of energy. “It is despicable what you have done, that you brazenly wear his crown!”

Chrysalis continues her measured pace until she reaches Doug, settling down next to the human with a deep, calming inhale. She raises her head, perhaps subconsciously hiding the blackened metal crown. It used to belong to King Orion, the ruler of an independent pegasus city, until she and her brood drained its inhabitants of their love. The city never recovered. It was a crowning moment for her, until her recent reformation, and one of many atrocities she had confessed without reservation to Celestia and the other Princesses. While knowledge of some of those acts never spread past this inner circle, given they happened decades ago, or even longer, others are public knowledge for those interested in history outside Equestria.

“Just to be sure I hear you correctly,” Chrysalis says. She leans forward the barest amount, her piercing green eyes bright, a perfect picture of one eager to understand. It does little to mollify the fuming unicorn. “If one were to invade Canterlot.” She pauses as if asking for confirmation that never comes. “Take a Princess or two hostage. Steal their power to further their nefarious ends. That this sequence of events is... unforgivable? That one should be banished or...” the friendly facade fades, showing a snide sneer, “dehorned?”

Tempest Shadow flinches before her harsh glare returns. She coldly states, “I am nothing like you, monster. And you deserve far worse for your crimes.”

Chrysalis casually shrugs, her head again shifting toward Doug and inhaling deeply. “I have been called worse, and suffered worse, than anything you might think to inflict.”

With a wild shower of blood-red sparks and a matching snarl Tempest Shadow leaps over the helm! Her glare, capable of setting the deck ablaze, fights her malicious grin over which will rend the changeling’s words and feed them back to her like the other half of the cow she’s already indulged in.

Doug instinctively tries to scramble backward, but his attempt to flip over the railing to relative safety is stifled by a matte-black hoof possessively holding him in place. Chrysalis tugs him closer than Twilight with a cherished doll or Celestia with a coveted cake, yet her contemptuous smile conceals her worry.

“Hiding behind a stallion?” Tempest Shadow taunts. “I knew you were unscrupulous, but this?”

“He is nothing to me,” Chrysalis spits out defensively as she continues to pin Doug against her chitinous side.

“Hey!” Doug shouts, futilely trying to pry the armored leg away from his chest. It squeezes, hard, easily felt even through his chestpiece.

“Perhaps?” Celestia’s regal tone easily carries, bringing the two equines to a grudging halt, Chrysalis especially. “We might consider the consequences of our actions?” She flashes each an exacting smile which neither returns. “I would hate for this to escalate before we reached Klugetown, much less still in sight of Canterlot.”

Tempest Shadow’s scowl turns to Celestia. “Is that a threat?”

“Of course not,” Celestia smoothly replies, her motherly warmth a silk cover over steel. “I, or one of my compatriots, would have gladly dove over the edge to save you. And you will have your chance to raise any concerns once we arrive.”

Tempest Shadow holds the larger pony’s gaze for a long second. One of the smaller ships sailing to their east, a cutter with Lightning Crash scrawled on the side in teal and metallic gray, breaks formation and heads directly toward them. The multitude of mares on the Lunaris Priestess cluster along the lower railing, some eager and some apprehensive at the warship’s rapid arrival. Heads turn up, watching curiously as the Commander leaps from one ship to the other. They frown, exchanging querying glances to each other and the alicorns. Seeing nothing, they go back to their game.

“So, Chrysalis,” Doug says, finally able to wrestle the leg to a more comfortable position.

“Oh?” The changeling pulls back just slightly as she cuts him off, her demand begging to drip acid. “Am I no longer a Queen? Now that I am married to a Prince?”

“King Shining Armor.” Doug tries out the moniker, finding it unsettling. The former queen mirrors his frown, if only because the expression never left her maw. He disentangles himself, taking the helm. “Too soon?”

“...It carries too much,” Chrysalis says with a distasteful glance at the two alicorns. “I can sense their disgust with the title, from previous rulers.” She sniffs as she follows Doug to the helm, again laying next to him, withers barely touching his leg. “Though it may also have to do with… advances those rulers might have made.”

“Indeed,” Celestia says, settling back down.

“Oh?” Chrysalis says with a coy grin. “That they continue to make? My, my, my.”

Celestia offers Doug a reassuring smile when he looks over, slightly worried. “It would be extraordinarily unlikely for me to return his affections, or those of the other suitors I have briefly entertained in the past few centuries.” She relaxes when Doug seems to accept this. “Forgive the pun, but many of them have been solely interested in whatever power or influence they might glean from such an arrangement.”

Luna huffs from underneath the alabaster neck, violet-shod forelegs crossing under muzzle as she stares at a particularly uninteresting section of the deck. Above her Celestia frowns at the motion but says nothing.

“Good thing I’m nothing like that,” Doug says with a wink, then rests a hand on Chrysalis’ thick mane. He grips hard, jostling back and forth, and it seems like she enjoys it. “And, speaking of nothing…”

“Yes?” Chrysalis asks, somehow managing a friendly smile, tilting so green eyes gaze happily into blue.

“I’m nothing to you?” Doug asks pointedly.

“Yup,” Chrysalis purrs happily. “Absolutely nothing.” She takes another deep inhale, luxuriating blissfully. “I want nothing from you. I get nothing from you. It’s perfect.”

After a long moment that mostly consists of disgruntled huffs from Doug and a moratorium on scratches, Chrysalis opens one eye, glancing up curiously. “What? You stopped!”

“Just before all this,” Doug says coldly, “you were ready to jump me behind Songbird Serenade’s concert. And now I’m nothing to you?”

“You were always nothing to me,” Chrysalis says defensively. She grunts as she turns away, grimacing. Her head lowers slightly, perhaps reluctantly if it was anypony else. “No, that’s not true.”

Doug looks annoyed at first but says, “Hey,” somewhat cheerfully as his hand resumes scratching. “You’re getting better about that.”

Chrysalis scowls. “Don’t remind me.” She takes a deep breath, visibly relaxing. “I’m serious.” One eye narrows, unsuccessfully attempting to glare. “It is unbecoming of a Queen to show weakness.”

Doug chuckles at her brazen assertion; it reminds him of when Rainbow Dash tries to appear tough and instead appears adorable. Or maybe that’s her master plan. “And, so, every hit you take off me is…”

“Nothing.” Chrysalis snuggles closer to Doug.

“You keep h’using that word,” Doug says with a stilted Spanish accent. “I do not think it means, what you think it means.”

“Urgh,” Chrysalis moans, rubbing her head. “You’re going to make me explain this, aren’t you. At least-”

A lavender alicorn stealthily wedges herself in the railing, wings flapping furiously after she squeezed out the porthole. A quill dances in her raspberry aura, delight sparkles in her eyes, an eagerness in her muzzle few could match.

“-Twilight is listening in,” Chrysalis continues, even though the alicorn’s approach had been silent and behind her.

“Aww,” Twilight says, canceling her noise-suppressing spell. “What gave it away?”

“I sense emotions from everycreature around me,” Chrysalis explains candidly. She flicks her mane in Twilight’s direction. “For example: dollops of eagerness, a pinch of disappointment, and an insatiable curiosity that rivals my own, yet for knowledge instead of love.” She frowns slightly, adjusting her legs uncomfortably, something tunneling under her and rocking her back and forth, except they are on an airship. “The pangs of hunger faded with this transformation, but the centuries have inculcated an insistent inclination apropos accumulation.” Her frown deepens. “Availing all aforementioned aberrant activities activated an alternate archetype, allowing an example of allocating assets unaccompanied by antagonistic absconsion.”

Chrysalis stands slightly, hooves rummaging around underneath her until something makes a high-pitched squeak. She grins maliciously, whipping out a poofy pink-maned party pony.

“I thought I told you-” the changeling grits out as she holds Pinkie Pie as far away as her forelegs can “-not to mess with me.”

“Aww, don’t be such a party pooper!” Pinkie Pie, despite being the much smaller of the two, reaches up and jams a gaudy pink party hat on Chrysalis’ horn. It’s about half as long as it needs to be and ends up speared through the top of the cone. All three Princesses have difficulty repressing their giggles. “Nopony got the last one. That means it’s your turn!”

Chrysalis growls, to no effect on Pinkie’s unflappable grin. “Fine. I spy… something with a dozen P’s.”

“Only twelve?” Pinkie Pie says to herself. “Let’s see. A persistent pink pony pressuring piqued passersby to participate in presenting puzzles primarily pertaining to optics?”

Chrysalis smiles forebodingly. “Indeed.”

“Oh, silly,” Pinkie Pie says with a series of comforting taps to Chrysalis’ head, the changeling none too happy and a little confused at how she closed the distance. “I’ve already been used as an answer! You’ll need to come up with another clue.”

“How about this one,” Chrysalis says evenly. She proceeds to chuck the earth pony clear across the ship where she collides with Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash with the sound of a bowling ball striking pins.

“That’ll work!” Pinkie Pie shouts. The other three grumble, rubbing their sides, before setting out for the helm, possibly to assault the changeling with their own puzzles.

“There,” Chrysalis says, slapping her hooves together a few times. “Does that answer your question?”

“Actually,” Twilight says, her muzzle buried in a few pieces of parchment.

“Oh,” Chrysalis deadpans. “You kept notes.”

Twilight ignores her. “You were talking about how your transformation made it so you didn’t feel the effects of love malnourishment as acutely?” She glances up. “That about right?”

“More accurately,” Chrysalis replies, taking a small bit of pleasure in correcting the alicorn, “sharing affection ameliorates that all-consuming…”

The changeling stands, glaring down between her legs.

A muffled, “Whaat?” can be heard echoing underneath her. “I just want to make everypony smile!”

“And all the ‘A’ alliteration?” Chrysalis inquires darkly.

“That’s just for the first hour! Then it’s on to the ‘B’s!”

Chrysalis plops back down, squashing out the voice like an annoying arthropod. She grins, an imitation more telling than when a changeling accidentally crosses paths with the pony they are impersonating.

And just as quickly her taut cheeks sag down to her baseline malevolent glare. She glances over as the rest of the Elements crest the short rise and arrange themselves in a loose circle. Spike joins them shortly after, sitting next to Twilight.

“Sharing love,” Chrysalis continues normally, as if the previous encounter never happened, “fixes the underlying issue, much like feeding somepony ‘cures’ them of dizziness and fatigue.”

“What do you do for energy instead?” Doug asks. “I assume, of course, that you can’t just share love back and forth forever.”

“If that worked?” A soft snicker escapes from the changeling’s maw, its many compatriots cut off by clenched teeth. She can’t hold them in for long, scraping at the deck while a genuine smile spreads across her muzzle. “If that worked… Equus would be overrun in a decade! Half with no opposition.”

“Seriously?” Rainbow Dash contends, crossing her forelegs.

“You doubt my words?” The jeer skids across Chrysalis’ muzzle like a pink pony across the deck. Despite Rainbow Dash making no motion to the contrary she explains, “A changeling becomes sexually mature about three years after the egg is formed. Given infinite energy, I - or any other changeling so disposed - can produce one egg a day. Starting with only myself? In three years I would have a thousand breeders. In seven?” Her sneer intensifies. “Millions.”

Rainbow Dash’s mouth hangs open, gawking at the changeling. Fluttershy, ever the helpful neighbor, pushes it shut.

“It’s over nine million,” Twilight says, aghast. She crushes up her quill, flecks of black spilling out of her hoof. “That’s more than everycreature else combined. Hay, you could include animals and not reach that number.”

“Alas,” Chrysalis says with a heavy sigh, “energy does not come from nothing. It comes from trees. Animals. Really, anything with carbon. And water. Like Betsy here.” She lightly taps her side. The motion is extremely subtle, her barrel rippling with continuous churning.

“Hey!” Applejack states forcefully, glaring. “Talk about her with more respect.” She mutters to herself, “Though that would explain why the price’a meat’s been goin’ up so quick.”

“Mm,” Chrysalis growls, but it’s directed at herself. She looks upwards, focusing on nothing. “It is difficult. To think of prey…” She pauses, mulling over the words. “To think of ponies, to think of all creatures, as more than bags of nutrients and emotions, to be carefully cultivated so their love can be extracted.”

“But of all creatures,” Spike says from the side, “I would imagine that changelings could change.”

Chrysalis allows a thin grin to play across her muzzle. “You must have been talking to Thorax. Did he move to Ponyville?”

Spike smirks. “You can’t fool me! I know you know where each and every changeling ended up.”

Chrysalis concedes the point with a slight shrug. “He was always such a pain… That is, he was reticent, the hardest to convince of our plans. Always going off about love and friendship.” She idly stares down at her hoof, then glances at Luna. “I can’t help but wonder if he and his brother had been able to keep you in your tower, that things might be different.”

“Doubtful,” the cobalt alicorn asserts without moving from her resting place. “Different, perhaps, but doubtful they would be better for anypony, or anyling, involved.”

Before Chrysalis can retort Spike jumps in. “But, yeah! Thorax is pretty cool. He joined up with the Rich’s.” He chuckles to himself. “Probably for the best, too. He’ll be a good influence on them.” Spike pauses for a second. “Actually, should I call him ‘he’? He always struck me as a guy, but he’s also kind of carrying Filthy’s foal.”

“Call them what seems natural,” Chrysalis answers. “They’ll correct you if needed.” Her muzzle pulls to a slight smirk. “I have heard that the Crystal Ponies have a special name for the gallant defender of their Empire.” She lumbers to her hooves and offers a sincere bow. “Spike, Glorious and Brave.”

“Actually,” Spike corrects, puffing his chest up, “it’s ‘The Brave and Glorious Spike.’”

“Trixie helped,” Twilight says as an aside. Spike turns to glare at her while the other mares snicker.

“The Brave and Glorious Spike,” Chrysalis states imperially, her head high. She backs away from Doug, disguising the movement with another low bow. “May your horde glitter with gems from far, wide, high, and low.” She grins as the ponies politely stomp their hooves, gulping down the adoration like a pig at a trough.

Doug glances around, perplexed at the disappearance of his pet-ee. Rainbow Dash swoops down, gleefully taking the coveted spot and twisting so his fingers hit the perfect spot at the base of her ears. They waggle back and forth, though not as pugilistically as the earth pony’s, enticing him to quicker jabs and varied angles lest he gets thwacked.

Chrysalis watches the two keenly, her ears imitating Dash’s. She meets Doug’s eyes when he glances at her, querying with a tilt of his head, and sighs. “To answer your original question,” she says, making an effort to keep her voice less abrasive, “you are… neutral. You neutralize whatever emotion I am feeling. And since I automatically… nibble on anycreature in range? It is anathema when filled by love, but to a ‘ling surrounded by disgust and hate?”

“We don’t mean ‘ta,” Applejack says quietly, pulling her hat off to hold at her chest. “Honest.”

“You’re just, kinda, creepy,” Rainbow Dash adds bluntly. She sighs, resting more of her weight on Doug. He doesn’t mind at all.

“And with the stories you’ve told us?” Fluttershy shudders, shying down.

Chrysalis’ fanged grin returns. “That I could drain a room full of ponies of their power?” Her long, forked tongue licks at her fangs, relishing the memories.

“Saying things like that doesn’t help,” Rarity says abruptly, echoing the thoughts of most of the others. “Do try to remember your audience.”

A rare expression of remorse crosses the black maw.

“What about me?” Spike asks curiously. “Do dragons, um, taste like ponies?”

“Every other dragon I have encountered loves only themselves. Coupled with their innate resistance to magic? We gain almost nothing.” Chrysalis sniffs at the air, frowning slightly, ignoring Spike's put-out reaction. “But with you? Your pony upbringing has made you an exception. Perhaps… carbon aerosolized into sugar?”

“Cool,” Spike says, flexing his arms. Then he sighs, looking down at his claws. “But that just means I’m even less of a dragon.”

“I don’t care how much of a dragon you are,” Twilight reassures, drawing Spike in for a warm hug. “You know that I, and everypony…” She glances at Chrysalis. “Do you consider yourself a pony?”

Chrysalis twists her hoof this way and that, inspecting it from every angle. She finds it a little disconcerting to not see the holes, the ancient battle-scars of her fight with Celestia. “Our natural form is undeniably equine,” she concedes. “And we owe our existence to a unicorn of antiquity; had he not deposited his essence, we might never have come about.” Her wings fan out, reflecting the mid-morning sun in a brilliant display of emerald. “Though we aren’t sure where the wings are from. Perhaps the insects on which we used to dine?”

“A unicorn of antiquity?” Twilight asks curiously. Her forehead scrunches up adorably. “Star Swirl the Bearded? And what do you mean by ‘deposited’?”

“The same. He released his bottled seed into the maw of a magical carnivorous plant in the middle of a swamp. The only thing we have to remember him by was a sign condemning us.” Chrysalis shrugs nonchalantly. “As to the reason, you would have to ask him yourself; we never crossed paths again.”

“...Huh.” Twilight blinks a few times, then shakes her head to clear out the images detailing how an elderly unicorn would go about ‘bottling his seed’. Though, if he had done it, then maybe it isn’t so bad. Could there be other applications?

But that’s a discussion for another time. Preferably with flowcharts instead of pictures. She turns to Spike, a warm smile spreading across her muzzle as she nuzzles him. “All of your friends love and care for you, no matter what.”

“Aww, thanks, Twi,” Spike says, but he’s not fully content. He finds his gaze stretching to the southeast, to the ash-spewing volcanoes and calderas that make up the ancestral home of the Dragons. He’s seen them in action when the Dragon Migration visited Equestria. But what would they be like closer to their native land, and not beset on every side by ponies and their customs?

None of the mares are especially eager to pick up the conversation, and gradually drift off to their own devices. Celestia, horn lit a soft gold, gains a far-off look, scrying the reams of paper in her office periodically turning from a gentle breeze. It doesn’t take long for Doug to regret volunteering his services as a pilot, but at least he can stave off boredom by making sure he doesn’t get too far behind on managing Equestria’s weather, splitting his attention between a few thin packets and the airship ahead.

Chrysalis slinks back to Doug, displacing a snoozing Rainbow Dash, and finds herself contemplating the future. She cannot recall a time before this that her contingency plans revolve around bolstering bastions, because blowing the borough and bivouacking barely backfired.

Bubbles blow from bated breath, black brows breezing backward, bent on breaking that bouncing bother!

On the opposite face of the Canterhorn a train winds down the steep slopes. Every car leaving the Upper Canterlot Station is packed to the gills, and this one is no exception. Twenty-four passengers line the six rows of the luxury car, though only two benches match the sumptuous decorations. Twelve ponies are returning to Ponyville while the other half - and the remainder of the train - are continuing to Vanhoover.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo leave their third helping of Pinkie Pie’s backup cake apiece to scamper over to Applebaum. Despite growing like seedlings in a steady summer sun they haven’t caught up to their younger sister in size, their two year head start not enough to overcome the five-year-old’s earlier cutie mark, and likely won’t until they’re all full-sized mares.

The young mare in question steadily munches her meal as she stares not at their destination but Canterlot as it retreats into the dark clouds above. Lemon excitedly bounces next to her, for no readily apparent reason except the massive quantity of sugar she imbibes like her dam might suddenly stop serving such scrumptious specialties, while Meringue and Hedge rest on the opposite side. Starlight Glimmer gazes out one window, Pomarbo the other, while Trixie lightly snores with her hat covering her eyes.

“Did’ja hear?” the earth pony Crusader asks in an excited whisper that might as well have been a bellowed shout. Her pegasus counterpart grins eagerly, furiously nodding while her hooves clench the bench like it’s the hoofbars of her scooter and she’s about to take it for a ride. And not your every-day race around the market shopping for asparagus and cherries but an awesome ride ramping up carts and cruising across rooftops! The unicorn filly, meanwhile, looks reluctant to be there, more of a safeguard in case their plan gets too egregiously dangerous, unlikely to work, or egregiously likely to work dangerously.

The back half of the car mostly hides their curious looks, the prospect of gossip straight from the Princesses’ herd quite tempting. The ears of the other two native Ponyvillians, Spoiled Rich and Diamond Tiara, have quite a different goal. They perk up and rotate away from the solitary colt in the Apple herd, zeroing in to figure out if the danger will be coming forthwith or once they arrive at their destination. A special red umbrella is produced from somewhere - a reasonable precaution against explosions, tree sap, or explosions of tree sap - though it remains closed. For now.

“Ya mean,” Applebaum deadpans back, “about somethin’ other than our parents all gettin’ hauled off to Celestia-knows-where for Celestia-knows-what?”

“Duh,” Scootaloo huffs with a roll of her eyes. “We were all there for that.”

“We heard the Golden Oak Library got destroyed,” Sweetie Belle states before her compatriots can derail the conversation any further, giving Applebaum a hard look. “Was it you?”

“Uh,” Applebaum says, raising an eyebrow. “Why’d’ya think Ah had anythin’ to do with that?”

“She’s not denying it,” Apple Bloom says as an aside to Scootaloo, but loudly enough for all to hear.

“And because we know how much you love explosions,” Scootaloo continues, focusing on her sister while nodding along with Apple Bloom.

“We were with Starlight Glimmer in Our Town,” Sweetie Belle explains, nodding mostly for solidarity. “So it definitely wasn’t us.”

“Ah was in Canterlot doin’ inventory,” Applebaum asserts.

“Oh, is he new?” Scootaloo says with a snicker, only for Sweetie Belle to knock her upside the head.

“It was Doug,” Starlight Glimmer breaks in. Suddenly the rest of the train goes quiet, ears standing on end. Diamond Tiara and Spoiled Rich exchange grim glances, though they aren’t surprised.

“He didn’t mean to, though, right?” Apple Bloom says, voice quivering.

“No, he meant to,” Starlight Glimmer says, teetering on the edge of exhaustion. She rolls her eyes as Apple Bloom leaps up to defend her sire again. “He was goading Twilight into putting all her effort into attacking him in the hopes that it would break Tirek and Discord’s drain on everypony.” She glances back, registering the apprehensive looks everypony is giving her. “Didn’t you hear all this?”

“We heard the official story,” Scootaloo says, pouting as she sits back. “We thought the real story would be a lot cooler, especially since Discord was involved.”

“Excuse me,” the draconequus in question objects as he slithers into the train car from beneath the floor he just opened like a trapdoor. It closes behind him with a whoosh of air escaping into the black void. He barely fits despite using a lot of the unused space around the ceiling, made worse by the pink chain rattling from his booth-shaped hat. “My plan would have been a lot ‘cooler’ if I had been allowed to finish, but apparently Doug has an even greater love of ‘undefineds’ than I do.” His air quotes come out as zeroes divided by zeroes made from viscous red clouds that coalesce into heart-shaped candies.

“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle deadpans, inching away from the sweets oozing sugar from every ventricle. “The threat of dying from magic deprivation really puts a damper on things.”

“I know!” Discord throws his claw and paw into the air. Everypony’s eyes go to the ceiling, but the two limbs remain firmly attached to his arms. It’s the rest of his body that gets thrown upwards. He splays out on the ceiling with a vexed sigh. “Now I don’t even know if they want me around anymore.”

The Crusaders trade unsure glances as the draconequus flops about. His attempts to garner sympathy instead draw comparisons to a young foal pouting after scribbling permanent markers on all the walls and not getting a cookie for her troubles.

Lemon pipes up, “We still want you around!” She grins her largest smile up at the self-styled Chaos Lord in the hopes to cheer him up, and it seems to be working.

Meringue nods once.

“Thank you, my young apprentices,” Discord says appreciably, his claw and paw patting the two yellow fillies on the head.

Lemon giggles as one clawed digit draws a circle around her cutie mark, a lemon squeezing into a pitcher. “That’s what I’m here for, right? Helping ponies with their problems!” Her head twists to the side as she appraises the amalgam of creatures in front of her. “And you’re, like… half? Pony? Ish?” She grins. “At least, it’s half of your name!”

“Dracon-equus?” Discord matches her grin, though it doesn’t last. “But I’m afraid the rest of the ponies won’t take my apology with the sincerity with which it was made.”

Lemon tilts her head, allowing the claw to dig deeper. “Is that why you aren’t testifying about what happened? ‘Cause it seems like that would be the place to clear your name.”

“Pff,” Discord sneers, conjuring a second set of limbs to wave dismissively while continuing the scratching. “Nothing will come out of those silencings, and I’m not about to waste my time letting them take potshots at me. Let Celestia roast the lot of them.” He smirks. “Or let Chrysalis eat them. Preferably in that order, but I’m not picky and neither is she.”

“Uhh,” Lemon says dubiously. The general consensus on the train agrees with her.

Discord rolls his eyes, though at least they stay in his skull this time. “Just kidding! Mostly. It wouldn’t happen to a more deserving pack of parasprites.”

“Sure,” Lemon agrees, but it’s the forced kind that signals somepony unwilling to continue a discussion. She turns to her sisters, bouncing excitedly. “Hey, did you hear about the Golden Oak Library?”

“Hey!” Apple Bloom objects as the other ponies watch Lemon eagerly. “Ah thought Ah was sayin’ that!”

Her irrepressible sister continues anyway. “Dam was telling me that there’s a whole castle where it used to be!”

“There is?!” Diamond Tiara exclaims loudly. She gulps as heads swivel to face her, the stern expression of her dam quite severe indeed. She would hate to disappoint her! She chuckles nervously, pearly whites gleaming as she smiles ineffectually. “I mean, it only makes sense for a Princess to have a castle, right?”

“Yeah!” Lemon agrees whole-heartedly. “And we’re gonna need all that extra space, too!” She grins at her younger sister. “I mean, it wasn’t terrible sharing a room with Meringue, at least when she was a year old and stopped crying every night.” She grimaces, and it looks just as out of place and wrong on her muzzle as it does on Pinkie Pie’s. “Teething.”

“Ugh,” Discord moans, a paw running along the back of his head in exasperation. “What is with you ponies and making more of yourselves? I never saw the need to go about duplicating myself.”

“Uh,” Lemon says, torn between calling the draconequus out on his obvious lie, the other copy of his paw still absently rubbing along her back.

“Oh, please,” Discord says disdainfully, picking his paw up with his paw and slipping it over itself like a glove. He admires the perfect fit before it lunges at his throat, which he ignores. “Temporary facsimiles don’t count, because I still control exactly what they do. I gave up making autonomous beings of chaos when I got turned into stone.” He pauses a moment. “The first time, that is.” He taps a claw against his goatee while his paw gives up and goes back to idling on his arm. “I wonder how they are doing?”

“They invade Ponyville every now and then,” Lemon says with such indifference Discord is almost offended. “But still! A dozen foals!” She shakes her head, incredulous.

“Eleven,” Meringue corrects. “Or seven.”

“Maybe,” Lemon says with a snicker. She glances at Starlight Glimmer. “Depending on what you do with your four, and we don’t know where Cadance is gonna end up. But if the other Princesses’ foals are gonna stay here, maybe she’ll want to leave her foal here, too.”

“Don’t they have a big crystal castle in the Crystal Empire?” Apple Bloom asks, slightly confused.

“Oh, our castle isn’t good enough?” Scootaloo spits out jokingly.

Sweetie Belle adds, in a more serious voice, “Besides, why would they go all the way to the Crystal Empire? It’s not like she became their leader just because she’s got a Crystal Heart on her flank.”

“Huh,” Apple Bloom says. “Ah guess we’ve been busier than Ah thought, workin’ with everypony in Our Town.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo commiserates. “Hey, you think Double Diamond could find a job in the Crystal Empire?”

“Yeah!” Sweetie Belle agrees. She struggles as her horn lights but manages to levitate a neatly organized notebook and pencil. “Either with the Crystal Ponies or with one of those firms surveying the mountains.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Discord interrupts. He gawks at the Crusaders and their list of names, cutie marks, and interests. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to be working!”

“Why?” Apple Bloom asks, torn between curiosity and a certain dread that she normally only gets when Scootaloo gets a horn-brained idea. Or, worse, a human-brained one. “What’re we supposed to be doin’?”

Discord huffs as he motions to the other ponies nearby. Trixie continues dozing, Pomarbo watches apprehensively, Hedge joining him in trying to blend into the colorful walls. Lemon and Meringue at least seem somewhat eager, but he’s grown to expect that from them. Applebaum has pulled out her study material, lots of equations and structural diagrams from the looks of it. Starlight looks up from the Crusader’s notes, mildly concerned about the brainstorming on the plight of her fellow ponies who struggle with their cutie marks.

“You have a being at your hooftips,” Discord says testily, “with nigh-infinite power over space and time. And rather than ask him to cut literal hours off of your commute you would rather sit here!” He motions to Diamond Tiara and Spoiled Rich, who take care to lose their otherwise ever-present look of mild disdain.

“Well, yeah,” Apple Bloom says matter-of-factly. She flashes a grin to her fellow Ponyvillians. “Dam told me that Ah was to never owe ya anythin’. That she’d rather Ah sign over Sweet Apple Acres to cousin Flam an’ let him clear cut it than ask ya for a favor.”

“Ugh,” Discord says melodramatically, holding a shiny metal spike that appears to have sprouted from his chest. “A dagger through my heart!”

“And it’s not like you’re some genie we can demand wishes from,” Scootaloo says.

Sweetie Belle continues, “And what would we have done? Asked you to ‘Teleport us to Sparkle Castle, if you please?’”

Discord bows graciously as Trixie leaps up, saying, “Don’t mind if I do,” as he snaps his claws.

In an instant, the nine members of the Apple Herd, Starlight, Spoiled Rich, and Diamond Tiara find themselves at the bottom of a heap of their luggage in the middle of a dirt field in dire need of landscaping, or at the very least a rake to draw geometric designs around the rocks strewn about. There is a solitary wooden trapdoor, about one ponylength square, and nothing else. Besides the town to their south and a gaggle of apprehensive ponies debating if freezing in place or bolting is the safer thing to do.

“That’s it?!” Apple Bloom exclaims, huffing as she struggles to break free.

“Well, yeah,” Scootaloo says, first to break out and race forward. Applebaum follows shortly after. “Dam said there wasn’t much more than a bunch of empty rooms.”

“That’ll make a pretty terrible nursery,” Sweet Belle adds, carefully extracting herself.

“But an awesome dungeon!” Applebaum shouts, pulling up beside the sign that says ‘Caution! Property of Princess Twilight Sparkle! Keep Out!

“Alright!” Lemon is next, and soon everypony has gathered around, exchanging cautious glances. “Who’s ready to enter the Nungeon?”

“Nungeon?” Applebaum deadpans, raising a single eyebrow in a time-honored family tradition.

“It’s a play on words?” Lemon replies with a smidge of uncharacteristic exasperation. “You know.” She twists her hooves with each word, “Nu-rsery and du-ngeon,” then slams them together. “Nun-geon.”

Apple Bloom snorts. “We ain’t callin’ the new nursery a nungeon.”

Scootaloo ignores her. “C’mon!” she exclaims impatiently, her hooves tapping a rapid dance as she looks over the trapdoor for any way to open it. “Let’s start exploring the Nungeon!”

“Uh,” Sweetie Belle says as she drops low. The door, or to be more accurate section of wall, looks like it came straight from one of Sweet Apple Acres’ old barns. She peers at each corner. They blend into the surrounding dirt with no obvious hoofholds or protrusions. “How do we open it?” Her horn flares a dull green, but her attempt to lift fails with a crackle and fizz of shorting magic. “Ow!” She rubs her horn, wincing. “Oww. What the hay?”

“Language,” Hedge chides, if softly. Sweetie Belle drops down to her haunches, rubbing harder.

“Twilight put Prostigal’s Post Protection on a portal?” Starlight says with a mix of admiration and exhilaration. Her eyes glow white, horn a brilliant turquoise as she scans the inner workings of the spell. “That shouldn’t be any trouble to…” Her muzzle curls upward to a mischievous grin. “Oh! Oh, clever… You thought I wouldn’t see that, did you? A trap if I tried to remove it, hmm? And one behind that?”

Trixie opens her mouth to say something, then stops, her grin matching the maniacal one spreading across Starlight.

“And another… and another… and another…and another...” Starlight frowns to herself, stamping a hoof in frustration as her eyes cross. “Alicorn or not, you shouldn’t be nesting these more than two layers deep! If they catch one, they’ll catch them all, and they’ll keep looking until they get to the end and all you’ve done is waste effort!” She huffs, her look of concentration deepening, her pupils nearly disappearing into her nose. “And another…”

“It’s simple,” Trixie smirks, barely able to contain her laughter, as her horn lights a light magenta. The door pops open with a slight outrush of air. The action startles Starlight out of her unbounded immersion, the light pink unicorn glaring at her azure counterpart. “It’s a recursive loop that waits until you realize you’re caught, storing up energy the whole time.” She waits a beat.

Starlight’s eyes narrow and teeth grind together.

“And then it shocks you.” Trixie sticks her tongue out just as a raspberry tinged lightning bolt zaps out and - safely, of course - electrocutes Starlight.

“Ow!” Starlight exclaims, rubbing her horn just like Sweetie Belle. It lights briefly, then sputters out with a pathetic dribble of sparks. “That could have really hurt!”

“Would you believe that I, the Great and Powerful Trixie! taught her that trick?” The afore-mentioned unicorn grins, though it quickly turns to a scowl. “Maybe with inspiration from that Sombra fellow. Not that Trixie would need to use the spell, except for those two colts always poking through my stuff!”

Starlight merely pulls her hoof away, glaring. “Why would she even…”

She halts as she and the rest of the ponies gather around the now open doorway and look down.

At the bottom of a sheer, vertigo-inducing drop of at least four stories is a massive circular crystal table, easily large enough for the entire herd to eat at if a few don’t mind sitting on top. Or they could if it wasn’t for the scale model of Equestria, done up in a rich variety of gleaming blues. From their high vantage point they can easily make out the majestic Canterhorn in the middle, Canterlot a shining bastion jutting off the lonely peak. Six white, high-backed human-style chairs surround the map, casting long shadows along the plain magenta floor. Dull green light from five upside-down doors on the upper walls barely beats back an inky blackness, leaving the rest of the edges of the cavernous entrance chamber shrouded. Nopony has the temerity to glance farther inside.

At least until Scootaloo brazenly jumps down, wings buzzing madly to keep her at a slow fall instead of a speedy plummet that, being a bit sturdier than your average pegasus, she probably would have survived with only a few bruises. She zooms around the darkness, traveling from one scarcely lit door to another, delightfully screaming all the way down. Before too long, though, and she’s fallen too far to reach any of them, and she hits the ground with a determined huff and charges up the closest wall.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle exchange nervous glances. The unicorn speaks first. “Uh… You next?”

“Pff,” Apple Bloom snorts. “Ah remember what happened to Big Mac.” She glances at Trixie. “Can ya levitate us down? And then back up?”

“Aww, where’s your sense of adventure?” Applebaum asks with a cocky grin before Trixie can respond. She shimmies up to the edge. “He just jumped and didn’t land right.” She lowers herself as far down as she can before she slides off, spreading her legs as much as possible.

Trixie watches with mild amusement, Starlight with a brief gasp, as the young mare falls about two body lengths before smacking belly-first into a mostly invisible wall.

“What the hay?” exclaims Applebaum as soon as she gets her breath back, testing her precarious position. She’s standing on top of a sheet of transparent crystal. At least it doesn’t shift like a rickety staircase; the walkway is solid and when she concentrates she can barely detect a faint sparkle that leads along the ceiling to one of the walls and then travels down. She trots along, careful to keep away from the railing-less sides that would certainly fail any sort of safety inspection.

Not about to be left behind, especially by her younger sister, Apple Bloom scampers after Applebaum, careful to keep to the same area. “That could’a hurt!”

“Mm,” Applebaum agrees. She’s still not completely comfortable, but obviously more so than her sister. “Learned how to fall, ‘cause ya can’t always trust what your hooves’re standin’ on.” She peers off the edge, ignoring the clenching of her stomach. “It’d be the highest jump Ah’ve made, but not by much.”

Sweetie Belle stammers, her hooves tapping a fast and nervous beat as her sisters get away. “Wait!” she calls as she drops down. “I’m coming too!”

“Don’t get too far ahead!” Trixie calls as she locates the clear crystal steps at the hinges of the opening. “We only explored three of the four doors!” Her horn lights, and it barely illuminates the far-away walls, two of the doors inscribed with a scarlet ‘X’ and one with a cobalt ‘O’. Starlight, still with a bit of a pucker, follows, as does Hedge and Meringue. The pegasus filly hovers off the edge while the earth pony studies the crystal, tracing minute lines like wood grains.

Apple Bloom looks down at Scootaloo, who is standing on the table. She stares up, glaring at Hedge’s aerial display that slowly swoops underneath the walkway opposite Meringue. Apple Bloom grimaces. “Ah don’t suppose any of y’all feel a mite… exposed walkin’ along like this?” Her tail tugs between her scrunched up legs, but she still feels like a sky glider showing off her wares.

“Not that Trixie is implying anything,” Trixie says, tongue pushing at her cheek, “but Doug did craft this whole castle.” She gets a few chuckles and knowing rolls of the eyes, but none dispute her implication, even purely to defend their sire’s honor.

Outside, Spoiled Rich and Diamond Tiara stand with Lemon and Pomarbo. The older mare is slightly wide-eyed at the reckless display and the casual willingness of the others to go along with it. She takes a cautious step backward, doing a poor job concealing her dismay. Yet she maintains a guarded smile, putting up a brave face. Her filly shares some of her apprehension, yet keeps next to the open door, her gaze steady on Pomarbo.

“Hey,” Lemon pipes up, grinning at Spoiled Rich. She returns an unvarying smile that doesn’t match her eyes. “Thanks for letting us use your private car! Even if…” She looks around, Discord nowhere to be seen. She opens her mouth as if to ask where their mysterious benefactor went off to, then immediately reconsiders. “Yeah! Even if you had to let everypony inside.”

Spoiled Rich’s eyes light up, the corners of her mouth widening. “Think nothing of it,” she says with a limp dismissal and wave of her hoof, using the motion to take a step forward. She clearly adores the acknowledgment and gratitude, yet must appear aloof and unconcerned. “It was a better solution than an entire train being rerouted purely to suit the needs of the Princesses’ herd.”

Next to her Diamond Tiara stands a little straighter, mimicking her dam’s deferential stance. She feels it a touch unbecoming, especially around the fillies with whom she grew up. Part of her wishes Silver Spoon was next to her, but Daddy and the Silver side of the herd are staying in Canterlot to help keep things running smoothly. She would have to manage without her best friend and sister. Regardless, times change, and a Rich pony adapts to the circumstances. How else would her great-grandpappy, Stinkin’ Rich, have made both the Apple’s and their own fortunes?

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Hey, DT?” Lemon peers down the door, unruffled by the thought of jumping down onto a ledge she can’t see. “You wanna come with? We could use another sharp set of eyes down there!” She glances back up at the two Rich ponies, grinning widely - though it’s a grin that seldom leaves her muzzle.

“Thanks, L!” Diamond Tiara offers the younger mare a quick smile. “I’ll be right down.” It feels a little unnatural, being so courteous to the Apples. Especially one of Applejack’s; they never act with proper manners, as a pedigreed mare such as herself must or else face ridicule from everypony who is anypony. They would need to learn, lest the papers have a field day extolling the many mishaps and gaffes of the Princesses’ Herd. And who better to teach them?

Lemon’s smile twitches a little wider. “See ya there!” She turns to Pomarbo, the colt terrified at taking that first step. She briefly considers. She’s gotten a lot better at not just blurting out everything that comes to her mind, even if - especially if - it has to do with helping a pony with their problems. And this is one problem that might not be best fixed by her. So she bounds down, skittering against the slick crystal and quickly catching up to her older sisters.

Diamond Tiara circles around the open doorway, snout slightly upturned, showing a reserved facade instead of the excitement at exploring a Princess’s castle! She can scarcely keep her breath steady and takes the opportunity to collect herself next to the Apple’s colt. Her dam gives her a blank look she reads as quizzical, though the younger mare makes no effort to explain herself. After a brief moment, Spoiled Rich takes a quick, impersonal sniff and turns away, leisurely trotting to Ponyville.

The tiara adorned mare turns back to Pomarbo. She had never spent much time around Applejack’s youngest, instead hanging out with the older trio and, whenever they were around, the middle two, playing sports in the fields by the schoolhouse. The four-year difference was too much, especially with him lacking a cutie mark. It would make things a lot easier if he had one, and not just because she could figure out his interests with a glance.

So she turns her deductive skills, the kind that let her know the strengths and weaknesses of all the fillies and colts over whom she presides, toward the colt laying next to her. He reminds her of an apple tree during cider season when the Apples can’t spare the marepower to harvest every tree and some get heavily laden with apples. His Macintosh mane, red with streaks of light green, is short-cropped over brown flanks. She notes with a bit of disappointment the still blank flank. The rest of his build is slight, nothing like his uncle or more distantly related Apples. His sisters are the same way, taking after their sire. Eyes, green just like his dam’s, squint as he peers down. Could he use a pair of glasses, like Silver Spoon?

A brief nudge startles Pomarbo out of his reverie, or perhaps terror, given the wide-eyed look he gives her. Diamond Tiara smiles back encouragingly and smirks to herself as she watches him visibly relax.

“Are you excited?” Diamond Tiara asks, a bit more imperiously than she meant. At least, that’s how she reads his shy cringe and gulp as he glances down at the other ponies just getting to the crystal table. She gives him another soft nudge toward the steps she can barely make out. One hoof shakes as she goes to step down, her muscles locking up.

You are a Rich pony!

She breathes a sigh of relief at the staccato tap of hoof on crystal. Pomarbo watches her example with fascination. “See?” She takes another step, this one much easier. “Nothing to worry about.” The next few come without any trouble, once her mind is convinced there is nothing to worry about, and she spins around to watch.

Pomarbo nods reluctantly. He closes his eyes as he leans forward, fishing for the step with his hoof. His small size means he can’t reach, at least without toppling off, his muzzle pursing tighter and tighter as wetness spreads to the hair around his eyes.

“Here,” Diamond Tiara blurts out, suppressing her huff. She grabs hold of his hoof, ignoring the tingles shooting through her at the contact, and tugs down.

Any resistance the colt might have had evaporates as he touches the stair. His eyelids spring open, and his quick next step takes Diamond Tiara completely by surprise. She pulls back just as he pushes forward; his uncoordinated hooves aren’t able to catch himself before he plows into her and the two tumble down the remaining six steps end over end and land on the bottom in a pile of limbs. It might have been comical, especially with a few whistles echoing from the bottom, if it wasn’t so terrifying that they might have gone off the edge.

Before anypony can react further one of the unmarked doors bursts open. Discord, wearing a green archer’s vest, quiver, and bow, rides a flying carpet made of smoke. Behind him lurk dozens of malevolent red-eyed vampire bats, half skeletons and half feral. The door slams shut before any can breach into the entrance chamber, meaty thuds ringing out as small bodies slam into the wall.

The draconequus flashes the entire room a swarthy grin. He dances feverishly as his carpet lowers, his paw and claws rubbing together with a maniacism generally only shared by Pinkie Pie or Starlight Glimmer. He bellows, much to the ponies’ consternation, “Who wants to go exploring?!”

Discord’s bellow echoes around the giant room, made all the more stark and empty by the ponies’ distinct lack of enthusiasm. He would have expected this sort of reaction from an amassment of guards, or statues in Celestia’s garden, or the pitiable guards stuck guarding Celestia’s garden - and not that supposedly luscious garden everymortal wanted to play in, for some inexplicable reason. Too overgrown, infested with terrans.

But this is ¡Discord, the Lord of Chaos! we’re talking about! Where’s the fanfare, the cheering marching band parading from one doorway to another except they keep entering at the wrong angle and just march along the walls while space and time hold onto each other and weep? Does he have to do everything himself? But it’s too late now, it would just look desperate, and if there’s one thing he cannot abide it’s some lesser creature’s pity toward a being with infinite power!

So he stands there, riding his cloud, arms outstretched as wide as his grin. Yet there are no thundering stomps of ponies bounding up to join him in the fun and fellowship of physical efforts, not like those silly simulations touted by Doug and Shining Armor and Big Mac and Spike that he most certainly would not be hosting. Besides, he did that today. Except, there is one pony displaying a modicum of excitement for his proposed adventure.

“Ooo!” Lemon shouts as she slashes at the air. She darts forward, hooves hammering against the crystal as she runs circles around Discord’s smoky cloud. “Pick me! Pick me! I wanna go exploring!” She bounces back and forth before darting over to Applebaum, her closest sister far less enthusiastic about actual adventuring than she expected.

“Um,” Apple Bloom says, nervously glancing between Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. The unicorn shares her look of trepidation, standing still in the vain hope that the draconequus won’t pick on her like Miss Cheerilee giving pop quizzes after the weekend is over and she wants a question answered right for once. Even the pegasus has slowed her frantic attempts to scale the walls and get to one of the doors and instead nestles in one of the uncomfortable v-shaped bottoms of the tall, thin windows. Despite her earlier words she isn’t leaping at the chance to go exploring, or perhaps it’s just who would be leading said exploration.

“We have one volunteer!” Discord grins gleefully, scanning the others. He’s somewhat disappointed that Meringue isn’t also leaping at the opportunity, but at least she’s fascinated with a different application of his power, having found a few runes of power carved into the transparent walkway. “Normally one would have a balanced group of four to six brave adventurers. And while I could fill a party all by myself-”

Three copies of Discord blink into existence. One of them is heavily armored with a galley oar, another in a shabby jerkin with a shield and butterfly net, and the last in a skimpy two-piece bikini wielding a long staff with an open palm threatening to slap anypony attempting to test the jiggle physics.

“-It just wouldn’t be fair to you all!” A worried look flashes across Discord’s four faces as he peers up at the still-closed door. Occasional thumps emanate from behind, sending tingles down spines and standing hairs on end. “And it certainly has nothing to do with the fact that Doug built this castle with my magic, and attempting to banish them definitely doesn’t cause them to trifurcate. Or gain special abilities. Or anything.” Each copy cowers behind the original, leaving him alone and tugging at a non-existent collar.

“Trixie was thinking that we could focus on the areas already cleared.” She preens her long, pampered hair, decidedly not looking at the door Discord entered through that definitely wasn’t there the last time she came into the castle.

“Ugh,” Discord whines as he drapes himself over an imaginary couch while his paw wipes across his face. “Why do you have to be so boring?”

The azure unicorn sticks her nose in the air. “Trixie does not see the point of gallivanting off through a series of hallways filled to the brim with dangerous creatures. Especially if those hallways keep shifting around her.” She looks down at the floor. It isn’t flat, more of a gentle curve that makes it hard to keep her balance.

“I prefer,” Applebaum chips in, “my corridors ancient and long-abandoned.” She nods to herself, deliberately not meeting her more eager sister’s disappointed gaze. “Safer that way.”

“But what if Starlight here was trapped at the other end?” Discord, with an entirely uncalled-for and over-aggrandized sweeping motion, given the spacious and unobstructed room, lights up the pink unicorn with half a dozen neon signs. She retreats back a step, away from the pointing arrows, glaring at him all the while. “What if it was up to you and a rag-tag bag of misfits to rescue her?”

Trixie raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like...”

She pulls out a fancy deck of cards from her hat. The spades are suns, the artwork depicting Princess Celestia in a variety of provocative poses, though none truly explicit. Hearts are the pink, purple and gold of Princess Cadance’s mane, showing off her suggestive smile. Clubs are a deep cobalt that’s almost as dark as Princess Luna’s cold and brooding stare. Diamonds are a light lavender with Princess Twilight, you guessed it, surrounded by books. She idly shuffles and flips out three deuces and Doug as a rainbow-armored joker. A swipe of her hoof and they all change to four princesses, complete with exaggerated belly bulges.

“A princess-level job.”

Discord huffs. “Fine,” he grits out, folding his arms across his chest and most certainly not pouting. “I was going to help you all explore the castle, but if that’s the way you want to be?” He snaps his claws, folding into himself until nothing remains but Lemon sighing at the blank space above her.

Silence reigns in the map room while everypony exchanges querying glances.

“Sooo,” Sweetie Belle draws out with an equally long stare at the five doors far above. “Did Daddy build this whole castle upside down?”

“He did,” Trixie answers with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Sweetie Belle trots over to the azure unicorn. “How did you get around before? Wings?” Her head cocks to the side, muzzle scrunching up at her inability to enact her next suggestion. “Levitation?”

“Both,” Trixie admits, muzzle curling to a scowl she doesn’t bother hiding. “But that would require us to station someunicorn at every doorway and give our less buoyant members a lift.” She leaves unstated that she would struggle at this task, and everypony knows it. Maybe if she studied with Starlight more, but the pink unicorn still looks out of it from triggering Twilight’s trap.

“We could build a ramp!” Scootaloo scampers around the table, wishing she brought her scooter along with her. She could totally use the chairs as makeshift ramps, and build up some serious speed!

Trixie sticks her nose in the air disdainfully. “Trixie refuses to cooperate with any plan that involves ramps.”

Scootaloo’s brow scrunches up. “What do you have against ramps?”

“Oh, nothing,” Trixie spits out. “They just make me…”

The azure unicorn suddenly stops speaking, looking quite uncomfortable; Scootaloo worriedly glances around, everypony else watching intently. Trixie’s eyes bug out as she gags, a hoof coming up to shield her muzzle, only for a stream of cards to spew out of her mouth and onto the floor. They just keep coming, and coming, a dozen faces winking seductively among the stars and books.

The scrunching up extends to the rest of Scootaloo’s face, mouth gaping and eye twitching.

“They’re just the incestuous cousin of the wheel,” Trixie continues, not deigning to look down and acting like nothing happened. “Existing purely to make it easier to get those go-rounders places they never belonged!” Her breath comes in fast, infuriated pants, a glare directed not so much at the surrounding young mares but years of pulling carts.

Applebaum cuts in, “What about ropes?” She eyeballs the closest door, the bottom about two stories straight up. “It shouldn’t be too hard to climb. As long as we’re not going back and forth a lot.”

“Ah’ll get some ropes!” Apple Bloom yells, scampering past Diamond Tiara and Pomarbo on her way to the top exit. The two have to squeeze against the castle wall just to avoid her, the thin walkway offering little in the way of protection should they be bumped to the unyielding floor below.

The rest of the ponies mill about, none particularly keen about moving away from the softly glowing table or windows, even if there is little to do in the otherwise dreadfully dark cavern. A few stomachs growl, and Lemon and Applebaum look ready to follow Apple Bloom and get lunch for everypony.

Diamond Tiara frowns to herself at the lack of leadership among the ponies. It makes sense, with the two older mares present being seventh and (while technically not a member of the herd, it seems likely given her close and continuing relationship) tenth. Somepony would need to step in, and who better than her?

Emboldened, and with a glance to the colt next to her to make sure he’s paying attention, the young pink mare steps to the edge of the ramp. She’ll finally get to put those vocal classes her dam put her through to use!

“What we need,” she belts out, singing forcefully enough to get Apple Bloom to pause at the top, “is to work to-geth-er-r-r!” She draws out the word as she spins, strutting a few steps down the ramp in time with the music in her head. “And make this castle shi-i-ine!”

“We do?” Apple Bloom interrupts from above, bringing the song to a screeching halt as Diamond Tiara skids on the crystal.

“Well, yeah!” Diamond Tiara states exasperatedly, huffing. She flings her hoof in a manner reminiscent of Discord, indicating the cavernous room. “We have a whole castle that’s completely bare! Is this the kind of place you would want to raise a foal?”

“Yeah!” Apple Bloom agrees with a shudder. “It’s got these tall doors that make it hard to get around!”

“At least,” Scootaloo adds from her perch on the window, “they keep those long hallways full of critters out.”

Sweetie Belle taps her hoof against the floor, nearly falling over. “And uneven floors that would make it difficult to run away.”

“Precisely!” Diamond Tiara nods feverishly, her enthusiasm contagious. “Wouldn’t it be great if the Princesses got back and they found this place, not cold and bare, but warm and-”

“-Decorated?” Lemon interrupts, eyes darting this way and that. “We could add some sparkle!”

Diamond Tiara huffs at her line being stolen, but goes along with it. “I’m thinking…” she leads, the grin on her muzzle widening. Visions dance in her eyes, a spreading smile that bounces from

“Portraits?” Sweetie Belle offers, glancing around at the walls. They are quite bare, and definitely unbecoming of a Princess’s castle. Especially with this being the entryway, and the first place everypony will see!

“Statues!” Diamond Tiara corrects, trotting down the walkway until she comes to one of the windows. She motions upwards, “Though, I wouldn’t say no to a stained-glass window, am I right?” Her cheeky grin is met by a few delayed nods, many of the ponies recalling how Princess Celestia’s castle has all sorts of elaborate scenes depicted on the windows. She continues her trot to the bottom, revelling in how all eyes are watching her. “It would look a lot better than that dreadful green!”

“Decoration superfluous.”

“Ah, lighten up, Meringue,” Lemon says with a roll of her eyes and shake of her head at her little sister. “It’d look good! I know we can do it!”

Diamond Tiara grins outwardly, but grimaces internally. Lemon would have been the easiest to get on board with any sort of project, and her sweeping optimism would carry the day. But it needs to be her in the limelight! Even as she wants to replace all the lime-tinted windows.

“Efficient routes integral.”

“Hey, how about this,” Diamond Tiara interjects as the two yellow ponies butt heads, resulting in a tangle of Pies. “There’s plenty of work.” She glances around the bare room, everyponies’ eyes on her, just like it should be. “A lot of work. We might not even get it done today! So we need to split it up, but more importantly, we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

She jumps onto the table, imperiously basking in the glow and enjoying the higher vantage point where she can look down on all the ponies. She barks, “Meringue, I want you to confer with Trixie. Make a map of what rooms we already know about. Can we assume the other hallways are similar?”

Trixie shrugs as Diamond Tiara’s gaze falls on her. “They’re not identical, but pretty close.”

“Alright.” Diamond Tiara nods before turning upward toward Apple Bloom. “We’re going to need lunch. Take Scootaloo and Lemon with you. Do you need bits?”

“Uh,” Apple Bloom says, glancing from side to side as her two sisters join her at the top of the stairs. “If we’re just goin’ to home’n Sugarcube, Ah think we’ll be okay.” She smiles down, and when no further instructions come heads outside through the trapdoor.

“Starlight,” Diamond Tiara says, her tone softening. This would be the hardest nut to crack, but if she can get the mare to cooperate then it’ll be smooth sailing.

“Yeah?” Starlight Glimmer says irritably, rubbing at her horn.

“Can you work with Sweetie Belle and Hedge on some way to get through these walls or up to the doors?” She cranes her head upward, already feeling the strain in the back of her neck.

“What about some sort of scaffolding?” Applebaum cuts in. She motions to the entrance and the railing suspended high above them. “If we can drill into the ceiling we could anchor ropes and platforms and just walk across!”

“Excellent idea!” Diamond Tiara exclaims, beaming her best smile. It’s important to make everypony feel appreciated, especially if they’re the ones doing the work. “It’ll be like a treehouse!”

“And what’ll you be doing?” Sweetie Belle asks pointedly as she confers with Applebaum, Starlight, and Hedge as to how exactly they would install such a system.

“Me?” Diamond Tiara says, surprised. She hops down, quickly trotting up the stairway. “I’ll just be, um, conferring with Pomarbo. We need to figure out what else we’ll need to do!”

She grins as she sidles next to the colt, pressing her side against him.

Spoiled Rich pauses as she trots away from the bare plot of land that used to be the Golden Oak Library, dusting off her personalized, H-T emblazoned saddlebags with a grimace. She turns, breath hitching as she watches her precious filly disappear into the crystal maw with the Apple colt.

It’s dangerous!

Her limbs lock, forelegs already starting to charge back, and she nearly eats the dirt she just brushed off her bags. Her breathing comes and goes in quick spurts, and it takes far longer than she likes to recover from the panic attack. That overwhelming sense of fear, that she has to rescue the budding young mare and march her back to the mansion, to safety. What kind of dam would she be if she let something happen to her filly?

And with the Apple colt, of all ponies! Why did it have to be with his colt?

She hides the grimace, and then the following scowl, wearing that inscrutable, haughty smile like one of those big, floofy hats Rarity makes. Maybe she should patronize the unicorn’s store more frequently. She is a member of the Princesses’ herd, after all, and buying a token dress after the Princesses’ announcement was just that, a token gesture, utterly meaningless and only served to maintain her position relative to the other sycophants doing the same thing.

Not that the dress was bad. In fact, she had to beat off her husband lest he get the wrong idea, and it only got harder after the Princesses’ Equestria-wide announcement.

Five alicorn foals!

It was, and still is, unthinkable. She couldn’t process it. The ramifications are too large, too far-reaching, too nebulous to do anything but guess. If the foals inherit even a fraction of their dam’s power? It could topple the precarious position the ponies occupy at the top of the hierarchy.

More broadly, obviously ponies would follow Celestia’s example, and she had received a few tenuous feelers from mares looking to join the Rich herd, solitary mares she previously anticipated requesting Filthy as a stud, though even that sort of thing was hushed up enough that she wouldn’t care to speculate on a single mare’s preference until the actual request was made. And, even then, she’d only know about it because she is lead mare.

But if Equestria’s burgeoning spike not only in power but also numbers is met by their neighboring countries with anything other than outward congratulations and a tacit agreement to watch their relative power dwindle away? Then having a foal during the resulting strife couldn’t be a worse decision, and she is glad to have fended off Filthy’s amorous assaults until her heat ended. There’s always next year, should things stay stable.

But that doesn’t mean she isn’t sometimes envious of Silver Set and her herdmate’s three foals. Like any trend, it doesn’t pay to be in the wave that follows, and she doesn’t want her next foal to just be another born in the glut next year, or the one after that. No, she has to find something else, some other ‘in’ through which she can elevate herself and her future foal. Should she make that decision.

Actually, there is something she could use. It has been years, but her memory has always been sharp.

She startles slightly as she stops outside her mansion, apparently having trotted the entire way lost in her thoughts. It must have been the lack of ponies on the street, nearly everypony still in Canterlot for the now-defunct Friendship Festival.

“Thorax?” she calls as she enters, curious if the changeling is here or holding down Barnyard Bargains.

“Mrs. Rich?” comes the cautious return call as Thorax steps out of the main dining hall.

The lime green changeling brushes a few crumbs from his orange tinted thorax with an apologetic smile. Spoiled Rich would have preferred to look down her nose, but he stands a hoof taller than her, and she can’t shake the odd sense that he should tower above her like Princess Celestia. It must be the pronged horns that splay out far more obtrusively than a unicorn’s horn and the purple gossamer wings that lend an aura of nobility the otherwise unassuming changeling wouldn’t possess.

“Welcome home!” He brightens as he sets his hoof back on her plush carpet. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon! Is everything at the Friendship Festival proceeding well?”

“It was,” she said haughtily, “until the Princesses were hauled off.”

His pupil-less rose eyes spin wildly. “Oh, no!” Thorax exclaims as he bounds forward, planting his forelegs on Spoiled Rich’s withers as he stares into her shocked eyes. If she wasn’t an earth pony it would have knocked her over. “Is the Queen okay? Was she hurt?!”

“She left with them, unharmed.” Spoiled Rich harrumphs as Thorax stares off into space. She clears her throat a second time, and this time he notices.

“Oh! Sorry! Sorry.” He drops down with an apologetic grimace, brushing off her dress. His hoof goes to his belly. “I was just thinking about the little ones.”

Her trained eye can barely detect the bulge around his darker green barrel. It’s more than the sandwich of bread and pork would entail, unless he has been gorging himself again. He is the other reason Filthy doesn’t mind waiting another year, as noherd of any note would want too many foals in a year. Two being the maximum, and woe to any stallion who wanted to try his hoof at more. And the novelty of having another join the herd would wear off soon enough. But he wouldn’t be this concerned with Filthy’s foal, of course not.

“Is it that time again?” she asked, mildly disgusted but hiding it well. Not that foalbearing is a particularly nasty subject, nor is she squeamish, but she has little desire to observe one of the changelings lay their eggs in the communal spawning ground. Though she would certainly not want to appear as if she found foals or even nymphs distasteful, given the current political climate.

“Just about! I can feel the little bugger pressing up against me. Not that it’s uncomfortable or anything!” Thorax’s best reassuring grin spreads across his face, but it always seems a bit creepy to her. Like a chimera that’s just realized that you know it’s trying to sneak up on you, and doesn’t want to call off the hunt just yet. “Since nopony was coming to the shop, I figured that I would head down there while it’s still cool.” His grin widens even more. “Hey, have you been there yet? I could show you around!”

“Mm,” Spoiled Rich stalls. She feels like getting to know the de facto fourth member of their herd is something she has put off for too long and that trumps her apathy. “Very well, but give me a moment.”

Hooves pound into the carpet as Thorax does a little happy dance, obviously not expecting that response. “Okay!”

She grumbles to herself as she heads into one of the sitting rooms. It would have been easier for Randolph to locate the deck of cards, but their butler is in Canterlot with Filthy. She brushes past a number of books and other games the fillies haven’t played in years. They would make acceptable gifts for grandfoals, no need to throw them out yet. She finally finds the cards along with her notes on the game of Bridge. She tucks the cards into her sleeve, part of her wanting to roll it up like she did as a young mare, and returns to find Thorax anxiously waiting. “Lead the way.”

He bounds to the door and opens it for her. A worried look flashes across his face. “Oh, um. Just so you know. It’s in the Everfree Forest. But right on the edge! It’s perfectly safe!”

“Indeed,” Spoiled Rich draws out, squelching her dismay at the mere mention of the forest. She follows him as they trot through Ponyville, and the continued lack of ponies continues to surprise her. She spots Apple Bloom breaking into a darkened Sugarcube Corner and quickly disappearing out of sight as they head to the south. It might have concerned her, as the Cakes are in Canterlot, but she doubts the young mare is up to anything nefarious. “How do you find working at Barnyard Bargains?”

“Work’s been great!” Thorax replies, his quick pace leaving her panting, even despite her participation in the Running of the Leaves. “It’s a lot like being a guard, except that I get to talk to ponies! Which is great! You wouldn’t believe how much ponies like to talk about what they do. Like Burnt Oak, he was telling me all about how he picks which trees to fell, and using the sawmill, and then about building wagons! It’s fascinating!”

His fascination with the simple act of cutting and crafting mystifies her; it’s so unlike many of the ponies she knows. And, she hates to admit, herself. It actually reminds her of many of Doug’s foals, whose interests vary more than most. And who, if they don’t pick some area of expertise, would have difficulty amounting to anything.

“It is a common enough occupation,” she says with a hint of a frown. Her husband loves working in the shop itself, getting a feel for what the customers are interested in and the trends of the market. Even though she feels his time would be better spent securing more profitable contracts and contacts outside of Ponyville, and hopes the extra time he is spending in Canterlot will be well worth it.

“Yup!” Thorax grins at that, though his face quickly falls. “I’d like it if we could get better jobs, but entry level work is all that’s been available. Nopony really trusts us changelings to do anything except breed.”

“Which you are frighteningly good at,” Spoiled Rich points out as they enter the forest. Overgrown trees crowd each side of the rough-cut path, simultaneously making her feel claustrophobic while hampering anycreature detecting their passage or assaulting them. It doesn’t help the feeling, though, and she warily checks each side as she stays close to the changeling.

“Yeah,” Thorax concedes as they enter a hollowed-out section of forest. It feels almost like a cave with how densely packed the branches are overhead and to the sides, scattered spots of dim light barely able to pierce through. Three u-shaped earthen mounds form a loose circle around the center, forming a bulwark of sorts. He heads to one of them and disappears down, and she can’t shake the feeling that the spawning chamber down there is more of a sepulcher.

He pokes his head out as she stalls. “You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to, but it might be a few minutes.”

“Er,” she says, glancing around nervously. Maybe she can stare at a section of wall. The steps are tightly spaced in a spiral, barely enough room to place a hoof next to the other, and if she slips she would tumble down and crash into at least six walls. Assuming it only goes down one story.

“It helps to go down backward,” Thorax recommends, following his own advice. She follows him, wishing there is more than the soft light of his horn guiding them. “Sorry it’s so steep. It has to be, or the newly hatched grubs might crawl out. This way they just tumble back down!”

The reinforced dirt walls turn to stone after one revolution, traces of acid giving the illusion that some still drips down. Two stories after that and it opens up into a cramped cellar, crystals and glowing moss casting an eerie green glow. Dozens of small mounds line the floor, and Spoiled Rich would freak out if she awoke down here with no explanation. She still might.

He heads to the one clear space in the room and spins around to face her, his rump dropping to the floor. She turns her head as a slimy squelch echoes against his hearty grunts.

“Sorry,” he apologizes before his throat clenches, his entire body tensing. “We don’t expect many visitors here. The hive in the Badlands was a lot more impressive.”

“How many are yours?” she asks, though she wishes she picked a question that took her mind off what is happening behind her.

“Four.” Another grunt accompanies the answer. “Including this one. That’s how many the Queen wants from each of us, at least this year. I figured I’d get mine out of the way, and I think everyling had the same idea.” She hears the rustle of him getting back up, then a long sigh. “I hope she’s okay. And comes back soon. I’m not ready for when these girls start hatching!”

“Is that going to be soon?” Spoiled Rich takes an awkward step backward.

“The first two rounds already hatched, and I think Chryssy moved them all by herself.” He grimaces, berating himself. “I mean, Queen Chrysalis!” He gives a nervous chuckle. “She hates to be called that name. That and Scinty.”

“Noted,” Spoiled Rich says, though she had already resolved to only call the capricious changeling queen by her title, much like one would with any pompous noble. She frowns. “And how are the other… nymphs? Doing?”

“Oh! Um…” Thorax nervously shuffles to the side, then grabs the slick egg from the floor and tenderly places it next to the others. He shamelessly retches up a bit of green goop and secures the egg to the floor, much to her actual disgust. He continues as if nothing happened, “Maybe I should check on them?”

Spoiled Rich stares at him. Queen Chrysalis had set out for Canterlot three days ago. Have they been left alone this whole time!?

“Yes, you should,” she states forcefully. No foal should be abandoned like that, even a changeling! She even leads the way, climbing up the spiral staircase, though she has to let him choose which of the other two entrances to take back down. Two stories down and they come to a reinforced door, a dull roar emanating from the other side.

“Well, here goes,” Thorax says with a cheesy grin before he opens the door.

Inside is the kind of mayhem one might expect if you left Pinkie Pie and fifteen of her clones alone in a room and told her to stare at drying paint. A single changeling sits in the center, patiently staring at Thorax with a widening smile. Around her tumble, race, and fly the other fifteen changeling nymphs. Empty bags of flour lie strewn across the floor, any traces licked clean, though the water trough is acceptably full.

“Thorax is here!”

The cry starts with one, quickly echoing among all the changelings as they make a beeline to the entrance. Which means that half of them go straight there, and the other half loop around in a pincer formation, ensuring the only escape is backwards, and that way is currently occupied by an earth pony frantically backing up.

Small, colorful bodies slam into the lime green changeling. He takes it in stride, grinning all the while, petting heads and nuzzling sides of anyling who comes close. They all giggle and screech, especially when he catches one and delivers a powerful raspberry to the belly.

“Attention, everyling!” Thorax calls after a minute of play, long enough for Spoiled Rich to regain her bearings. They all settle down, forming two rows of eight nymphs, the larger in back. He waves a hoof, and she takes a reluctant step forward. “This is Spoiled Rich! She’s my lead mare in Ponyville!”

“Hi, Spoiled Rich!” the nymphs chorus.

Her breath catches in her throat. “Hello,” she says with a short wave, having to force the words out. Her hushed whisper is nearly as forceful as a shout, “These are two weeks old?!”

“This batch is far better behaved than any I ever helped with at the hive,” Thorax confides, and every mouth in the room twists to a large, fangy grin. “I think sharing love helped immensely!” His voice drops to a stage whisper. “As did finding all the food.”

“Indeed,” she replies with a curt nod. “And what are we supposed to do?”

“Mrs. Rich is a schoolteacher,” Thorax says to the nymphs, many of whom are already starting to poke each other in the side. He offers her a wide, phony smile. “And she knows lots of games!”

Spoiled Rich might have glared at the sudden invitation, and at the same time is curious how exactly he knew she taught before Ms. Cheerilee was hired. Except that this provides the perfect way for her to get her skills back in shape, and not make a foal of herself in front of Doug and the Princesses. She pulls the deck of cards from her sleeve, and all the nymphs burst forth to crowd around her. “How many of you know your numbers?”

She barely weathers the cacophony of shouted things, most of which are numbers.

“Very good,” she utters, partly deafened. They’re as enthusiastic as a pack of Lemons with all the self control of Scootaloo. She counts it fortunate she only had to substitute for Ms. Cheerilee a few times. “This is a card game for four players, so we’ll need to divide into eight groups of two.”

“I’ll get more cards!” Thorax breathes a huge sigh of relief as he heads upstairs, leaving the nymphs to squabble amongst themselves.

The nymphs quickly catch on to how the game is played, and their competitive nature gets her to add on scoring and then a rough tournament set up with duplicated decks. They need little instruction, allowing her to watch their initially naive play evolve with every hoof of cards.

“They’re so precious,” Thorax whispers to her. “I can’t believe you don’t want more.”

“Mm,” she says, staring off into space as she settles next to him.

April 6th, 1001 Domina Solaria

Doug awakens to a warm nudge, opening his eyes to a starry night sky. It billows outward, in every direction, a vast expanse of cobalt and indigo dotted with pinpricks of twinkling white. One could get lost in those darkened depths. He lays there, marveling at the beauty, though he’d risk Luna’s wrath if he pushed her tail the wrong way in order to see her crescent moon. He isn’t nearly as proficient in mane manipulation with her as he is with Rarity, to the unicorn’s enduring chagrin and the alicorn’s consternation.

Sleeping next to the Princesses is always a tiring affair, but not because of any carnal activities. He finds that invigorating, unless he falls asleep immediately afterward. No, it is instead due to a less licentious and more mundane reason: he finds Celestia’s body heat, a living furnace of sorts, too warm. And Luna is the opposite, harboring a chill that matches the night, and she despises blankets more than he, if only slightly. Except that her mane always seems to end up as a pillow, if it isn’t her belly.

When it is only one of the Sisters his body adapts, if begrudgingly, or when he wakes he finds he has pushed himself away. But when both are present he tosses and turns, constantly rotating so the sweaty side cools off against cobalt while the other warms against alabaster. Not that he complains, and neither do they, and their strong desire to do things together means they spend nights doubled up more often than not.

He brushes a bit of starry mane out of his eyes, only to find Celestia’s warm gaze smiling down on him. He hates to admit it to himself, and wouldn’t dream of saying it aloud, but she is the most beautiful of his mares. Of all the ponies he has met, really. A radiant smile that, while she might direct it at many of her little ponies, contains a special meaning for him. A warmth, loving and caring, that easily surpasses her body heat. And, paradoxically enough, a desire to see her ponies succeed so powerful that she lets them fall so they might fly on their own, no matter her own reservations about the dangers.

It’s still night out, the moon visible near the horizon and the great balloon above blocking out a large portion of the sky. He gets up slowly, careful not to disturb the Princess of the Night as she works to soothe an understandably large number of storm-based nightmares. At least he slept, perhaps not soundly, but dream-free.

“Is it morning soon?” he asks, yawning and wiping a bit of the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“It will be as we arrive,” Celestia explains quietly with a motion to the south. Klugetown shines, though not as brightly as Canterlot, a beacon of light against a backdrop of roiling dark. The Storm King’s black airships have shrunk their formation as they draw closer, lanterns marking those hurrying to and fro on the decks. A wry smile crosses her muzzle. “It helps to know the helmsmare on their flagship. It shall make our arrival all the more impressive.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He stands, stretching his arms and cracking his neck. He slept in his armor and parachute, though the extra layers certainly help with the cold air high above the Bone Dry Desert. He hopes it wasn’t uncomfortable for the alicorns, but when Lunaris relieved him after dinner he must have fallen straight asleep. The unicorn stoically maintains the helm, checking his flawless appearance in a mirror held in a golden glow as the other mares scurry about, conspiring about something or other.

Doug’s hand slips past Celestia’s ear and into her ever-flowing mane, drawing a deep rumble that begs to be something more. He follows with a nuzzle to the expressive appendage, threatening escalation with sweet nothings and a series of kisses down her side.

“We have time, barely, if you wish to escape below,” Celestia says, her gentle reprimand concealed behind mirth. “Also, good morning, love.”

Her choice garners a light harrumph and withdrawal. It would be a tad too conspicuous, not that anypony on board would mind, and he doesn’t want to rush things. He can’t quite keep from performing the same nuzzle routine with Luna, even as she grunts grumpily. One eye opens, perhaps to glare, though it turns to a long-suffering roll as he steps away and to the edge of the airship.

Behind and below stretches the Bone Dry Desert, a hostile and desolate expanse only slightly more hospitable than the void of space. While the Badlands might owe their existence to Celestia’s actions defending Equestria centuries ago and the thaumic fallout and twisting of leylines from the awesome display of power, the Bone Dry Desert’s is terrestrial. It merely suffers from a crippling lack of rain and rivers.

The pegasi tribes that make up the Realm of Clouds to the south of Klugetown certainly don’t help matters, not that anything lives in the desert that might complain. The dark, billowing clouds that give the Realm their namesake block out the tops of the mountains, leaving a roiling horizon behind their destination. The distinction between Klugetown and the surrounding desert is much more stark, much like a boat is separate from the ocean. In fact, there isn’t so much as a tent outside the tall northern walls, and anything more permanent would sink into the shifting sands.

And the town certainly looks like it clawed its way out from the desert, with more and more emerging every year. Rising spires of wood and stone haphazardly sprout on top of each other, twisting and merging and splitting apart so indiscriminately that it would leave a changeling anxious and ill-at-ease. Or maybe that would just be the back alleys that spring from seeming nowhere, leaving an ever-present sense of imminent ambush. Or, it could be the massive sign out front.

Illuminated at all times, and clearly visible as they get closer, the ‘The Free City of Klugetown’ sign clearly delineates a short list of forbidden items: no weapons, square dance calling, changelings, or umbrum.

The rest of the town looks just as foreboding and uninviting. Armed guards - of races Doug has never seen before, primarily giant fish-like creatures - patrol along the sandstone street, exchanging hearty greetings with the vendors hawking their wares even before the sun rises. Others peek out from what must be apartments among the ever-constructing spires, apprehensively watching as the armored airships berth at the many docks along the southern end of town.

On board the Lunaris Priestess, Twilight and Cadance join Celestia and Luna at the bow. Twilight wouldn’t cut their exchange of nuzzles short, or her and Cadance’s fillyhood dance routine, even as she might burst with a grim anticipation of what arriving at their destination will entail.

“I did a lot of studying,” Twilight begins, pulling a few sheets of parchment from her saddlebags. She passes them out among her fellow alicorns. “And prepared these for the topics I thought would be brought up.”

“Excellent work, my most faithful student.” Celestia reads through the papers, then pauses as she chuckles to herself. “I’m sorry, Twilight. You are a Princess now, and no longer my student. This just reminded me of the times when you would turn in thirteen parchments when I only asked for three.”

“Oh,” Twilight says, abashedly beaming as she scratches one foreleg against the other. “I-it’s nothing, really. I don’t mind at all!”

“Even so. Thank you for your efforts.” Celestia’s warm smile fills Twilight’s heart with pride.

Celestia’s former student has to quell the rush, that heady desire to burst into song and fly circles around the airship. But she is a Princess now, and that has to come with a certain amount of dignity and restraint. Right?

And the purest example of that majesty, a paragon among ponies, steps forward. Gold-shod hooves stand on the railing as the Princess of the Sun regally raises her head, preparing herself as a golden glow surrounds her horn. Her shorter Sister matches her performance, the cobalt alicorn almost an afterthought as she lowers the moon.

And then, as their airship crests Klugetown’s outer wall, with every eye on them, the sky above bursts into a brilliant display of reds and oranges and yellows as the sun crests the horizon.

On top of the highest construction crane next to the docks, and a fair distance away from the Princesses, two gray hooves balance the primate-esque Storm King at the top of a long pole. One hand blocks the rising sun from his bright teal eyes, an irrepressible grin on his fang-filled mouth. Sleek white fur covers his body except for his face, feet, and hands. Dark gray armor guards his chest and shoulders, adorned with a twin teal lightning bolt insignia that matches the darker blue crown between twisting black horns.

“Welcome!” the Storm King projects, releasing his grip on the pole to wave at the first of the landing warships. Dozens of giant, yeti-like minions disgorge from each, milling about with good-natured jostles. “Good to see you all back so soon!” One arm sweeps behind him as he twirls about, indicating a massive breakfast buffet fully capable of feeding the hundreds of soldiers.

A small skiff swoops to his side, allowing a single unicorn to disembark.

Commander Tempest Shadow marches to her commanding officer, imperiously holding her head high. It doesn’t help her mood that her eyes come up to his feet, or that the pole he is casually balancing on is actually the legendary crystal-tipped staff known as the Staff of Sacanas. She does a quick about face once she is at his side, firmly gazing ahead and watching the Storm Minions disembark, studiously ignoring the hundred-foot drop should she slip. It doesn’t take long for them to clear out, and the airships to raise to a more defensible holding pattern, revealing the Lunaris Priestess and all four alicorns standing proudly at the bow.

“You know,” the Storm King says to Tempest, as nonchalant as if talking about the weather, “when I got your message that everything was going to plan?” He uses both hands to make a picture box around the approaching alicorns. “Somehow I had a different image of what it would look like when you delivered all four alicorn princesses to me. That they would be considerably less…” He twirls a finger through the air. “Ambulatory.”

“My liege,” Tempest Shadow starts.

“-But,” the Storm King continues over her, and the unicorn immediately closes her mouth at his playful banter that would immediately shift to a cruel maliciousness given the slightest provocation. “Maybe you forgot that I gave you a set of four very valuable, very rare, very powerful artifacts! And instead of subduing them, which you were fully capable of doing, here they are in the flesh! Surely I didn’t misjudge you!”

Tempest Shadow shakes her head, grim determination showing through gritted teeth. Her horn sparks despite her best attempt to keep her calm.

“Magnificent Storm King,” she starts, mollifying the anger she knows bubbles beneath the surface. “They did not give a pretext for war. They agreed to our demands. They are here, are they not?”

She leaves unspoken her cowardice. How, even as she strode up to four of the most powerful beings on Equus and bravely delivered their demands, she could have taken them by surprise. Halfway through her speech she could have attacked. But Discord’s appearance and subsequent ‘game’ did not vindicate her lack of action, but merely exposed her craven relief that things had not progressed according to her king’s plan. If Luna had been as aggressive in Canterlot’s defense as she was in the game, casualties on both sides, including her, would have been massive.

“Did I not explain this?” The Storm King bounces on the staff, bending it almost to the point of snapping in half. “I don’t collect mystical artifacts because I think they look pretty.” His snarl sends shivers down Tempest’s spine. He releases the tension in the staff, flipping above and landing with the staff in two hands as if he is offering it to her.

She knows better than to take it.

“Some creatures thought the Staff of Sacanas was useless. Who would build an artifact that needed the power of not one, but four alicorns?” He slaps himself on the head as if the concept is absurd. Until a year ago, it was. “Even if it empowers the wielder to shift the very heavens? Or to restore your horn?”

She gulps at the reminder of her entire purpose in serving him.

He continues with a sad shake of his head. “But you know better than to think it lucky that I just happen to have an artifact like this, just when four alicorns happen to fall in our lap. Yes?”

“Of course,” Tempest replies immediately. The memory of the Misfortune Malachite burns in her mind. “You make your own luck.”

A half-smile, half-sneer crosses the Storm King’s mouth as he leers at the alicorns.

Twilight Sparkle calmly watches the exchange between the Storm King and his commander Tempest Shadow, her fellow Princesses at her side. She frowns, especially at the way he is eyeing her. Even she, cloistered as her brother might tease, knows that look. She sometimes wished more stallions looked at her like that. But not him! Eww!

“Do you think he knows we can read lips?” she asks, gagging like she just ate one of Applejack’s baked sours and Doug thought she liked it so she has to eat another or make her Friend feel bad.

“Almost certainly.” Celestia wistfully sighs with a forlorn shake of her head. She glances back as Doug and Shining Armor join them. She knows her stallion will not appreciate this, nor Twilight, but she has always been truthful with them. “He has always been brazen. That ardor, that passion… I must confess, I found his letters quite captivating.”

“Letter-s?” Doug asks, emphasizing the ‘s’ like a piece of scraping flint. Twilight turns to Celestia with a horrified look, eyes widened and mouth ajar.

“~Celestia and Raikou,” Cadance teases her aunt, though her focus is on Twilight. She plays up her smile, wagging her flanks and swishing her mane back and forth. “~Sittin’ in a tree.”

Shining Armor rubs against his sister’s opposite side as she tugs at her mane, as if blocking the sight could block the sing-song voice and the images it evokes. “~K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“I’m afraid we never progressed to that point,” Celestia states mirthfully, interrupting the song. It puts their fears to rest. Mostly. Though Shining Armor still winks at Twilight as he puts her in a headlock, rubbing at her mane.

“Oh, good,” Twilight says, slipping out and hip checking her brother, only to yelp when Chrysalis brusquely pushes her to the floor.

The changeling queen lost some of her bulk during the night, but still outmasses everypony present. “Oh,” she mutters as Twilight rubs her rump. A low growl escapes the ebony throat. “It’s him.” She glances at Celestia. “Did he say anything about me?”

“Not as of yet,” Celestia replies, intrigued at Chrysalis’ interest. “Why?”

“Hmph,” Chrysalis pouts, especially as the Storm King joins the throng of soldiers. He hadn’t acknowledged her existence. “Because there was a time when I thought we might move to the next stages of that song.” She rolls her eyes at Celestia’s raised eyebrow. “What? It’s not like it’s complicated. I’m attracted to power. He’s powerful. I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

Twilight mischievously grins as she gets up. “So you dated the Storm King, had designs on King Sombra, and now you’ve gotten yourself my brother.” She turns her grin on Shining Armor as Chrysalis nods along. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Shiny? Like how you’re secretly a bad colt?!”

Twilight’s horn flares as she starts tapping a quick beat against the floor. The sound of a ukulele fills the air as she nods along, in serious danger of making a foal of herself. “~Get yourself a… bad colt!”

“Hey, I could totally pull off an AJ!” He pokes Cadance as she tilts her head. “You know, McLank from the Fallback Fillies?”

“Not my Shiny,” Cadance retorts with quick swishes of her head, humming along to Twilight’s catchy tune. “Or you’ll be Shiny NoName!”

Chrysalis’ hoof joins in tapping a beat against the floor. She shakes her head and scowls. “You ponies, always bursting into song in random places at the drop of a hat. Who does-”

Chrysalis yelps as Rarity gallops past her, Applejack and Pinkie Pie at her flanks and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy soaring overhead!

“~O-oh, Klugetown!” Rarity belts out as she leaps off the edge! She gracefully soars down, twisting and twirling just like she did at the Best Young Flyer competition and drawing just as many eyes as Celestia’s solar show. “~What you do to us?!”

The four alicorns, Shining Armor, Doug, and Chrysalis rush to watch the five plummet.

“~Such a full, teeming, me-tro-po-lus!”

Three parachutes open, brilliant canopies of sapphire and indigo, orange and red, and pink and blue, gently setting the three ponies down while Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy drop next to them. Her horn flares, neatly packing the parachutes away.

“~And we can always,” Rarity continues, beaming at the startled shopkeepers as they trot along the busy road, “~be generous! And share a frie-he-hen-dly smile!”

“You cannot be serious,” Chrysalis mutters as the alicorns bob and sway to the acapella echoing off the buildings.

“~Oh, don’t be so imperious,” Cadance grins, nudging Chrysalis’ side. When she turns and glares Shining Armor comes up on her other side.

“~It’s not that mysterious,” he sings, reaching across the changeling to grasp his wife’s hoof. Together they haul Chrysalis over the edge. She doesn’t resist, adopting a long-suffering expression she stole from Luna.

“Yes,” Chrysalis growls out, though she keeps to the beat. “~I’m quite delirious.”

Green and pink wings flare as Shining Armor’s horn lights, his shield safely setting him down. He drops, kissing the sandy road, then embraces it in a hug while Cadance rolls her eyes behind him.

Their expressions turn to shock as four heavily armored Storm Guards surround Chrysalis and level spears. Chrysalis growls, flaring her wings as she crouches defensively, but there is nowhere to retreat except up or a teleport to a just-as-unknown position. And the spiked, weighted nets in their off-hands makes that proposition much less enticing.

Before the situation can devolve further Rarity appears, bounding from one guard to another. She gently butts the bottom of their spears, and they lift them in confusion.

“~Is someone waspy? It’s okay!”

Chrysalis, just as surprised as the guards, cocks her head to the side. “Is that a bug joke?”

A bolt of light blue fabric levitates over, a gem to the merchant she plucked it from. Rarity trims and weaves on the move, grinning as she presents a bundle of woven flowers to each.

“~Surprise instead with a bouquet!”

The guards glance at each other before grunting, ignoring the flowers to keep the changeling corralled.

“~You have your orders,” Rarity concedes, nodding along understandingly. “So help me con-vey-”

She jumps up on one of them, embracing with one hoof while pointing down the ramshackle street to one of the few buildings that looks well taken care of: the combination Equestrian Embassy and location of the Council of Creatures.

“~This cha-ange-ling-g to-o her trial!”

The guards shrug, shoulder their spears and take the flowers from the light blue aura, pinning them inside their intimidating helmets. Rarity bows down courteously, backing up while dragging Chrysalis with her.

“Hey!” Chrysalis objects strenuously, though she continues backpedaling to safety.

Overhead, the Lunaris Priestess steadily makes its way to the embassy’s docking platform, a few brightly clad pegasi waving orange glowsticks that make them easy to spot even with the perpetual haze around the city. Their pace has picked up, overtaking the mares parading underneath.

Celestia wistfully stares down, the broad smile on her muzzle only widening. Twilight is too engrossed to notice, debating if or when there will be an opening where she can join her Friends, but also holding back because the other Princesses are doing the same.

“Ugh,” Luna groggily grunts, the least enthralled of all present except perhaps Doug. She watches the roof of the embassy and the gathering throng of creatures there. All the delegates of the major races are represented except one, and the Storm King is leaping and bounding across the buildings to get there before they do, using the staff as a pole. “We’re going to have to greet them.” She sighs, flicking a hoof through her waving mane. “We do despise getting the sand out of our coat.”

“But it shines so wondrously when you do,” Doug says with an encouraging smile and scratch to her ear and chin. Her eye roll is but a flash as she tilts her head toward his, exchanging a chaste kiss before turning back to the congregating creatures. He sighs at her lack of enthusiasm, saying, “Well, I’m going to go make sure Spike is up.”

“Thanks,” Twilight says distractedly.

Doug’s boots pound against the floor as he jogs the short distance to the captain’s cabin. He opens the door without knocking, only for a flurry of movement on the bed to draw his attention.

A red-faced Spike yanks the sheets up, a saccharine and forced grin at his ‘dad’. “H-hey!” he pants, waving one claw while the other grips the sheets like he is dangling out the window. He fakes a wide yawn. “Are we there yet?”

“Just about to meet the delegates,” Doug says from the doorway. He regrets not knocking, but only slightly. He forces his face to soften, not that he was glaring before, offering Spike a knowing smile. “Everything okay?”

“Uh,” Spike grunts, awkwardly scratching the frills along his neck before gulping and hiding those claws under the sheet. He sighs, downcast, and stares at the floor. “Just thinking about, um, Sweetie Belle.”

“I bet she misses you, too,” Doug says, slowly approaching. Spike pulls his claws out from under the sheet as he scooches to the side, though it is still bunched up in his lap. Doug sits down, hands clasped as he hunches over, though he still towers above Spike. “And. If there’s anything you want or need to talk about, I’m here.” He reaches over to scratch at Spike’s head spines, the dragon cautiously grinning up at him. “Although, I don’t know if now is the best time. We’ve got a lot of luggage to move, dignitaries to meet. And, if you’re Chrysalis, hell to pay.”

Spike giggles at that last one, stripping the sheets off and dropping to the floor. “A-and who better to help than your trusty dragon friend, right?” He flexes his arms with a grin, scales shifting as tiny lumps of muscles bulge. “Ohh, yeah. I’ve been helping Sweetie Belle move Rarity’s luggage around. Can you tell?”

“Hey,” Doug says with a chuckle, getting up as well. They both head to the door. “Keep that up and she might make you her permanent assistant in charge of moving Rarity’s luggage around!”

“You think so?” Spike’s eyes brighten, his claws playing against each other as his grin turns greedy. He breaks out of it with a worried gulp and glance upward. “Hey, um… Please don’t tell Twilight. Okay?” He quivers. “Or Sweetie Belle.”

“I doubt it’ll come up,” Doug says, smiling yet serious. He bends down, and Spike stops. “But I think they would both appreciate more, hmm, productive uses of your time instead of just thinking about them, right?” He looks outside the porthole. “Like something that reminded you of her, or that you want her to have.”

“Heh,” Spike says with another awkward scratch of his neck. “Y-yeah, I guess that’s right.” He shudders.

“Then we only need to speak of this if you want to,” Doug says as he stands.

The two arrive just as the airship stops next to the docking platform. Doug gets his first good look at the two half-circles of the Council of Creatures waiting on them. In the front row must be the other five members of the Squad of Six: an eight-foot red and gold dragon of the Dragon Lands; a massive orange-maned yak looking especially grumpy in the desert heat; a griffon with dark gray head and wings and a lighter gray body accompanied by a pink-headed, fez-topped gray griffon; a brawny minotaur with excessively large hands, standing nearly as tall as the dragon and twice as wide; and the Storm King himself.

Behind them, and drawing less attention, are the rest of the delegates from the surrounding smaller countries and city states. Three ponies from the Realm of Clouds, a pegasus, earth pony, and unicorn; a zebra wearing gold jewelry and a sweeping mohawk of a mane; a tall, lanky black Abbyssinian cat; and a pale blue hippogriff who stays as far away as he can from the Storm King.

A gangplank is laid for the two landbound creatures, Lunaris staying aboard the ship. The three alicorns take flight, easily gliding the short distance to the awaiting delegates.

“Her Highnesses, Princess Celestia,” one of the embassy ponies announces in a booming voice, “Princess Luna, and Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria.”

From the side of the embassy fly Princess Cadance and Queen Chrysalis, horns alight and levitating Applejack, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie, the latter thrilled to again be soaring through the air. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and Shining Armor land on their own power next to Doug and Spike while Cadance and Chrysalis join the other alicorns.

“Her Highness, Princess Cadance,” the embassy pony continues stately, then pauses. He looks decidedly uncomfortable about announcing the changeling. “And Queen Chrysalis.”

“Finally!” the fez-wearing griffon shouts, scratching two deep furrows with a loud scrape of his talons. “Let’s get the execution underway!”

Time seems to freeze for Chrysalis, her body wrenching open every valve and dumping thaums into limbs, muscles, and wings. She seethes with rage, hot breath whistling through bared fangs, legs bending and wings flaring in preparation of a lunge forward. All at the griffon’s casual proposal.

Execution?!

Her mind whirls through plausible scenarios. A rush forward, disemboweling the griffon before projecting a wall of force to knock the flightless off the building. A disabling drain on everycreature present, fueling her followup blasts. A transformation into a maulwurf whose thick hide and sharpened claws would absorb any attack and rend through soft hides. A teleport straight down, into unknown territory, where she would meet up with her infiltrators and disappear.

Except Celestia would interfere, and not on her behalf, should she initiate. Even with the griffon’s bald-faced instigation. A combat transformation would do untold damage to the foal inside her, if she survived at all. And should she flee and be found guilty? Celestia would take her place. She knows the alicorn values her word above her neck.

Their hatred only feeds her bloodlust, pressing her closer to the brink where she would snap. It would only be seconds before she threw caution to the wind, consequences be damned, and attacked. It would doom her and her changelings, even if she captured all present, and plunge Equestria into war. And, worst of all, it would prove him right, that she is deserving of execution.

And so she decides, in the blink of an eye, on a course of action she had considered so briefly she hadn’t even formulated a follow-up plan. She takes a step backward. But it is not a retreat; she holds her head high, imperious, staring unadulterated daggers of hatred as she makes a tactical disengagement and rallies at a less exposed position.

Doug’s side.

She breathes a sigh of relief as the rage washes out of her, a dull apathy taking its place. The rising fury on Shining Armor’s face doesn’t bother her, even as she can tell it is because she went to another stallion instead of him. She doesn’t care. Except, she can detect another emotion.

Hope.

And it isn’t coming from Celestia, even as the alicorn steps forward full of the emotion in question. Nor any of the other ponies, or creatures shouting epithets about her past deeds. Nor from her stallion, the sire of her foal, as he joins Celestia.

But from Doug.

She samples that hope, cautiously. She no longer needs to steal love, or any emotion, but still finds the process invigorating. Low-grade nibbling might not provide the rush that whole-sale devouring did but she still finds her stores replenished, the thaums she dumped into defense again reserved for emergency use. But the fact that she can sense, and pull, something else from him? Especially something as nourishing as hope?

“Councilmember Gruff,” Princess Celestia states, her tone brooking no disagreement, “while I find your… fervor to complete our agenda admirable, you must consider the proper procedures.”

“Procedures,” Gruff scoffs, again clawing at the ground. A wicked smile crosses his face, as much as the permanent scowl of his beak and eyes can smile. “Then I have a proposal.” He points a talon at Chrysalis as she draws closer to Doug. “As Equestria has decided on so many courses of action without consulting the Council, such as the absolution of Queen Chrysalis for her many and varied crimes, few of which were actually committed against Equestria, I propose that Equestria abstain from voting on any of the upcoming items being considered.”

Gasps ring out from the ponies, though Rainbow Dash’s late gasp makes her look like she is just trying to fit in. A number of the lesser delegates exchange hurried whispers as the five members of the Squad look smug. None of the alicorns look pleased, Twilight especially miffed as she paws at the ground and snorts.

“Oh, no!” Spike mutters, Doug glancing over confused. “Those powergrubbing scumbags!”

“What?” Doug whispers, picking up the dragon to better hear him.

Before Spike can explain Celestia clears her throat. She is the only pony without a visible reaction to the proposal, though Luna comes close except for a quickly hidden glare at her Sister. Even Cadance, for as much as Shining Armor’s reaction to Chrysalis distracted her, turns back to scowl at Councilmember Gruff.

“An… interesting proposal, Councilmember, though I can’t say it is unexpected.” Celestia passes her warm smile across those gathered, though each can feel the steel hidden under the silk. “Perhaps, while we discuss this matter, we might make introductions?” She motions to Luna, Twilight, and Doug. “Not all of us have met each other.”

“Hrmph,” Gruff snorts. “Fine.” He points a single claw at Chrysalis. “But at the end of the day, I will have her head on my wall.”

Celestia’s smile never wavers, though the nod of her head is so slight it might be missed. She breaks off, as do the other members, milling among the ponies and exchanging introductions.

Spike, before anycreature can draw near, quickly explains to Doug. “Historically there have been six voting members on the Council. Equestria and the Dragons are permanent members, and the other four serve four year terms, changing out one a year. The other delegates can still participate in discussions but can’t vote, which is why not all of the countries and city states are here. You need a majority of the votes to pass, but Equestria wins ties. That means that you need a supermajority to pass something against the Equestrian vote, and not many creatures want to vote against Celestia.”

“So the griffons, or whoever, only need to convince two others to vote with them instead of three.” Doug frowns, tugging Spike a little higher to scratch at his chin.

“Yeah, but it’s worse than that,” Spike growls. “I don’t think Celestia’s ever been on the back hoof like this. The others can tell, and they’re going to try to get as much out of her as they can.” He points at Gruff. “I’ve heard he pulls this same act every time - arguing for as extreme a position as he can - in the hopes that Celestia or somecreature will pay him off. And if you give in, he just gets worse the next time.”

“Despicable,” Doug says, but before their discussion can devolve into further insults the red dragon marches up to them.

“Hey, Garble!” Spike greets loudly, jumping out of Doug’s arms to run up to the much taller dragon. He raises a clawed fist and Garble bumps it much harder than necessary, sending Spike to the floor. He rubs at his tail as he gets up. “I didn’t know you would be here!”

“‘Sup, Spike,” Garble says with a nonchalant stretch of his claws above his head. “You might not know it, but I’m a pretty important dragon.”

“Well, yeah!” Spike grins as he lists off, “Lead guitarist of Dragonfarce, delegate to the Council, and-”

Garble cuts in as Spike stalls, “One of the main contenders for the Bloodstone Scepter!” He flexes, his muscles bulging, and breathes a great gout of fire upward.

“Awesome!” Spike says, enthralled at the fire. He wishes his breath was that strong, but all he can do is send letters and occasionally turn books to ash. He cocks his head quizzically. “What’s the Bloodstone Scepter?”

Garble stares blankly at Spike for a long moment. “Oh!” he exclaims, slapping himself in the head. “That’s right! You were raised by ponies!” He shakes his head, snorting at the absurdity. “The Dragon Lord wields the Bloodstone Scepter, and in a couple years Dragon Lord Torch is gonna step down. Whoever wins the Gauntlet of Fire he sets up will become the next Dragon Lord for a hundred years!” He snickers to himself. “And that dragon is gonna be me!”

“Right on,” Spike says, a bit fearful of Garble. “So you’re training for that?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe!” Garble shoots another breath of fire into the air. “I can do this for days! But, uh,” he awkwardly scratches his back frills, “What are you, um, up to? Still hanging out with that, er, Candy Crush?”

“Sweetie Belle,” Spike corrects, nodding. “Yeah, we’re tight.”

“Cool. I mean, that’s hot.” Garble tugs at his neck. “Hey, you know I’m here representing the dragons. And that means I gotta do things that are in our interest, right?”

Spike’s face falls. “Right,” he says glumly. “Right.”

Garble gives a short wave before walking off, the yak and minotaur taking his place. The yak, long hair completely covering his eyes, still looks unhappy to be there. He restlessly shifts as if barely holding himself back from smashing something. Doug shares that feeling, tired of being cooped up inside the airship and, likely, in an upcoming series of meetings where Celestia and the others will be lambasted for hours on end.

The minotaur reaches a huge hand forward. Doug takes it, only to immediately regret the decision.

“Iron Grip welcomes you to Klugetown!” the minotaur bellows, crushing Doug’s hand. He imagines he can hear bones popping, but it might just be the joints. “It may not be as marvelous as Minotauria, but noplace is!”

“Hah!” bellows the yak just as loudly. The minotaur still hasn’t released Doug’s hand. “Yakyakistan best! Prince Rutherford knows! Has best music, best food, best hay! Anything not best? YAK SMASH!!”

He rears up, then slams his hooves onto the roof of the embassy. It sends a shudder through the building, and thankfully doesn’t collapse.

Doug sways, the minotaur doesn’t, and he slowly regains his balance. His hand has gone numb, and puts as much pressure into the grip as he can. It barely feels like he made a dent.

Iron Grip grins nonetheless. “Ah! It feels good to grip another, yes? Much better than hoof or magic!” He releases Doug’s hand, who has the sense not to try to rub it. “You shake well! You must have met Iron Will, Iron Grip’s brother!”

“I’ve seen posters for his classes, but that was in Canterlot.” Doug rubs his chin. “I don’t think he’s been to Ponyville yet.”

“Then Iron Grip will tell Iron Will to take Iron Will’s assertiveness seminars to Ponyville!” His grin only widens as he winks lewdly at Chrysalis. “Though Iron Grip doubts Doug needs help there!”

“I don’t know about that,” the Storm King interjects as he casually ambles forward, stopping next to Chrysalis. She comes up to his chest, even standing imperiously. “He doesn’t strike me as the type who would, or could, defend his mares. With words or actions.” He fondly draws a finger along Chrysalis’ chin, ending at her neck. “Isn’t that right, ‘Lis?” He leers at her as she scowls at him. “I missed you! Also, loving the new look.”

“Hey,” Chrysalis and Doug spit out at the same time. Doug takes an aggressive step forward as Chrysalis pulls away.

“Oh?” the Storm King laughs, bending down to slap his knee. “Oh! Oh! You’re serious!” He shakes his head as he reaches forward, grabbing Doug around the arm and easily lifting him into the air. He sneers at Doug’s look of surprise and pain. “I’d challenge you for her, but we both know how that would go.”

“I…” Doug stammers, worriedly glancing back at Chrysalis.

Only for Shining Armor to step forward. “That’s because she’s not his to defend.” He glares at Doug before turning to the Storm King. “She’s mine.”

The Storm King drops Doug, leaving him rubbing at his arm as he scrambles back. Rainbow Dash rushes to his side while the rest of the ponies watching with bated breath. None move to interfere as the Storm King advances with a sneer.

“Then I challenge you, Prince Consort Shining Armor.”

Shining Armor returns the sneer. “You got it.”

The Storm King raises his staff overhead and slams it down with an ominous *boom*.

“Then let’s get this storm started!”

“Ooh, that’s a good one!” the Storm King mutters to himself. He glances around, looking for a scribe or someone who might write the phrase down. Not seeing anyone he chides himself, “I should remember that! And market it!” He holds his hands in front of him, the backdrop the cloudy sky to the south. “A storm is coming! No, needs more shock.”

“Are we really going to allow this?” Twilight whispers to Celestia, askance. She doesn’t want to see her brother hurt, or the Storm King for that matter, but none of the other leaders are doing anything to stop it. If anything they are egging him on, Gruff especially, with derisive slanders against Shining Armor and Doug.

“They’re going to settle this like stallions,” Cadance whispers as she joins the two. A sultry smile spreads across her muzzle. “Besides, wouldn’t you want to see your stallion defending his herd?”

“But what if he gets hurt?” Twilight implores, ears folding flat against her head. Even as the image of Doug guarding her, shield and spear in hand, sends tingles down her nethers. It takes effort to clear her mind and get back to the problem at hoof. “And what happens with Chrysalis if he loses?”

“He won’t lose,” Luna predicts solemnly.

Twilight wishes she shared her confidence.

A furious growl from Shining Armor focuses the Storm King’s attention. “Oh! Right!” He climbs up the Staff of Sacanas, spinning around in a circle like a ball on a tether. “How do you want to do this?”

“Iron Grip will referee!” the minotaur roars, clapping his massive hands together. “Yes?”

At two nods the minotaur strides forward, giant steps from his relatively small legs clearing a rough circle. Muscles bulge and flex as he limbers up, almost like he will be the one flattening the competitors instead of wrenching them apart. A motion gets the Storm King and Shining Armor to move to the center, and Iron Grip continues in his loud, overly enthusiastic voice.

“Now, Iron Grip is familiar with many arenas.”

He grins, exposing two rows of gold and titanium teeth. His doughy face matches, his features arranged by his opponents as much as by nature. Yet his toothy smile and eagerness suggest it was not he who had to be carried out of the arena.

“And you are fighting over cow, yes?” Iron Grip motions to Chrysalis, who scowls at him. He laughs, a deep chuckle as his hands go to his hips and his pectorals flex back and forth. “Maybe Iron Grip throw horn in ring, too!”

“Can we get on with this?” the Storm King drolly offers.

“But Iron Grip prefer heifer over cow!” The minotaur stops flexing and shaking his rump in Chrysalis’ direction. “So! You fight to first blood or first knockdown. Yes? And no permanent injuries!” He scowls at the Storm King. “You break his back, Iron Grip break yours. Got it?”

“Two on one sounds fair, especially with one down,” the Storm King retorts, belaying his black comment with a goofy smile.

“It won’t be just two,” Cadance growls out, advancing forward to nuzzle her husband. She wishes she had one of her blue mane ties to wrap around him, but she stopped wearing those years ago.

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head.” The Storm King reaches over Shining Armor to pat Cadance reassuringly, ignoring the unicorn’s protestations. He flicks his head at Celestia. “Besides, I’d only be worried if she joined.” He grins as he backs up to their starting positions. “I’d rather keep my bones inside my body, thanks.”

“B-but you’re not supposed to do that!” Twilight says with a gasp and worried glance at her mentor. “A creature’s innate resistance means…”

“Anything can be overridden,” Celestia states calmly, her motherly smile never fading. “Though I rarely deign to work on so small a scale.” She winks at the Storm King.

He stares at her for a long moment, scratching at his chin while he ponders. “Standard magic rules?” he finally asks, turning back to Shining Armor and Iron Grip. “I don’t use anything on you, you don’t use anything on me?”

“And no flying,” Iron Grip appends, remembering how Shining Armor ascended the building.

“Ugh,” Rainbow Dash moans from the sideline. “No flying is the worst rule.” She sighs, even as Doug pats her head consolingly.

Shining Armor nods in agreement, both with Rainbow Dash and Iron Grip. “If I win, you don’t make any advances on Chrysalis.” He frowns as the Storm King’s gaze shifts to Celestia. He growls, “Or any of the mares!”

“Any of the mares?” the Storm King confirms rhetorically. He shrugs. “Agreed. And as a bonus, I’ll even throw Celestia my vote.” He winks at her, the corners of the alabaster muzzle shifting up slightly. “But if I win, you give up your little ‘Lis.”

Shining Armor looks over at Chrysalis, breath catching. The way she stands not next to him, like his beloved Cadance, but by Doug. How she comes to him once a week for… servicing, but never for anything else, preferring to stay in Ponyville and work on her relocated spawning pool. Maybe this will prove to her, and also to him, that he wants her to stay.

And if he loses?

He’s not going to lose!

“Ready,” he states, channeling his fury into his horn. He hasn’t started charging a spell yet, too early would be cheating, but he mentally prepares himself. He barely notices as Cadance steps away from him, unconsciously returning her blown kiss.

“Ready,” the Storm King echoes, bracing himself against the ground.

Iron Grip stands between the two, one arm outstretched. He glances between the two competitors. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, but his hand will do as it chops down.

“Fight!”

Ten feet of wiry muscles launches through the air as the Storm King explodes like a coiled spring, screaming with primal fury! Everypony gasps as he slams the crystal-tipped staff down, directly on Shining Armor!

Except the unicorn stands his ground, pink sparks radiating from his horn as he grits his teeth. His slanted shield deflects the staff to the side, the arc of pink magic expanding away from his body.

“Barriers!” The Storm King scowls as he swipes his staff along the ground into the shield again, sending sparks of pink and blue as it scrapes along the surface. “I hate barriers!”

“Hah!” Chrysalis bellows at the blocked blow. “King Sombra couldn’t get through Armor’s shield! What chance does-”

Her mouth gapes open as the Storm King’s third blow - a wide, overbalancing power swing - shatters the shield into wisps of pink.

“W-what?” Chrysalis says, wide-eyed and stunned. He had done what her army of changelings couldn’t?! Cheers erupt from the opposite sideline, gasps from her own. She can barely draw breath as the Storm King translates the extra momentum into a spin and slam.

Only for another shield to spring into being, blocking his attack with a shower of sparks.

“Again with the barriers!” The Storm King changes stances, now gripping the staff at the middle and unleashing a flurry of blows with both ends. For all his fury he grins, laughing as he pounds. “You can’t be hoping to tire me out! I could do this all day!”

“He’s right,” Cadance says, the rhythm of strikes against the shield only speeding up. “But my Shiny isn’t tiring, either. Rather than channel a full power shield-” she nods at Chrysalis “-the kind you thought he would use, or a more mobile barrier that requires concentration and tires him out, he is sticking to cheap fire-and-forget barriers. This allows him to regain his strength in the time it takes for one to be broken.”

Shining Armor stands in a meditative trance, measured breaths in time with the shattering shields.

“What’s wrong?” the Storm King asks as he circles around the pink barriers. “Can’t talk?” They don’t move to intercept him; instead, new ones spring up, the old staying in position, and it takes just as long to move around a barrier as it does to break through. “Too busy concentrating? Thinking about what your cute little pony princess will have to do to cheer you up?”

“Ya ta ta ta ta ta ta ta ta!” he screams, words in time with his flurries of blows, shattering shield after reforming shield. “Ya ta ta ta ta ta ta ta!”

“I’ve never seen Shiny’s shields broken this easily,” Twilight says to Celestia and Luna, nearly having to shout over the Storm King’s screams. “Except for when Lunaris uses Ward Pierce, but there’s no anti-magic on that staff!”

“The Staff of Sacanas isn’t anti-magic,” Celestia agrees, her words reaching Twilight as easily as if they were in the middle of a serene meadow. She frowns. “But it can absorb a pony’s magic.”

Twilight grimaces. “So he’s toying with him.”

“No,” Luna corrects. “He’s testing him.”

While the initial broken barrier inspired cheers and gasps from everycreature, the tenth draws little more than grunts of approval, both to Shining Armor’s endurance and the Storm King’s. At the twentieth it swaps to bored chatter, half focused on the match and the other on what they will do with their ill-gotten gains.

“Shining Armor can’t win like this,” Chrysalis remarks, teeth chattering. She immediately stops such a weak display. “At some point he’ll need to attack.”

“True,” Cadance concedes, though she motions to a spot behind Shining Armor, out of easy view of the Storm King. A loose ball of magic whirls in place, slowly getting bigger and bigger. “But every third or fourth shield he has enough spare concentration to add a little more.”

“Is this all you can do?” bellows the Storm King. “Come on, show me what you got!”

Shining Armor grits his teeth, his next shield a fraction of a second too slow. He barely pulls his head back in time as the crystal tip of the staff slices the hair of his neck, leaving a furrow as cut ends trickle down.

At the same time his reserve guard blasts forward, and the Storm King barely raises his arms in front of his chest to block the blow. It slams him backward, legs skidding along the ground until he snags, a nimble backflip the only thing keeping him from a knockdown.

“Good shot!” the Storm King calls, flicking his hands away to restore some of the feeling. He cracks his neck, grinning his toothy grin. “I didn’t get you too bad, did I?”

“No blood!” Iron Grip calls, though the blow had been dangerously close to slitting the unicorn’s throat. “But careful with that staff!”

Shining Armor grits his teeth, feeling at his neck. He takes a deep breath, regaining his meditative stance. A new shield springs up.

“You got this, my love!” Cadance calls, nervously pawing at the floor. She glances at Doug’s white knuckles around Chrysalis’ hoof before returning to the match.

The Storm King advances, bloodthirsty. He seems to have ignored Iron Grip’s warning, swinging with reckless abandon. His gamble pays off, smashing through shields in two blows instead of three, and before Shining Armor can gather enough power for another reserve blow he has closed the distance.

“You can still give up!” he calls, battering through yet another hastily crafted barrier. And then, with an agile spin around the barrier going up, he strikes directly at Shining Armor’s exposed side.

The flat end slams into the cobalt and pink mark with a meaty crack, bodily lifting the unicorn a few inches. He barely keeps his balance, and his composure, staggering to the side. There is no counter, and he keeps the Storm King at bay with a well-placed shield blocking and pinning the staff to the ground.

“That one sounded like it hurt!” the Storm King calls, freeing his staff by pulling it toward him, an overhead windmill slam telegraphed but strong enough to shatter the formed shield in a single blow. He laughs, though mirthfully instead of scornfully as yet another pink shield flickers into existence. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to give her up, either!” He licks his lips. “I bet she’s great in the-”

The Storm King’s eyes widen as the barrier he thought he would get a solid hit on shifts, deflecting his blow upward and leaving him wide open. A pink ball blasts forward, and he blocks his chest, only for the magic to drag Shining Armor forward.

His metal-shod hoof slams into the Storm King’s exposed chin as his magic dissipates, the unicorn’s full weight driving the Storm King into the ground. He impacts with a crunching *whump* as Shining Armor pulls away from him.

“You talk too much,” Shining Armor states dryly, scarcely able to stay on his hooves. Cheers erupt from the ponies as Shining Armor drops down, exhausted from overworking his magic. The other creatures are mixed, most clapping politely with cautious glances at the supine Storm King.

He lays there, staring up at the sky with a grin on his face before flipping to his cloven hooves. “Well played!” he says as he offers his winded opponent a hand, hauling him up. “A word of advice,” he whispers as he draws in close. One hand slips inside a pouch in his armor, withdrawing an obsidian orb. Shining Armor’s eyes widen as he looks at it, recognizing the picture from the game yesterday. “I wouldn’t rely too heavily on any one strategy.”

And just as quickly he pulls away, Iron Grip announcing the winner to the stomps of the ponies.

Cadance rushes forward, Chrysalis following hotly on her hooves, both fighting to nuzzle their stallion - Cadance because the worry was killing her, almost literally, while Chrysalis was the one he was dueling for. The alicorn fusses over him, especially the bruise forming on his flank, while Chrysalis locks lips, looking like she is sucking his soul out of his throat, except the love is flowing the other direction.

The changeling glares at the Storm King from her spot wrapped around her stallion, one leg snaking inside his and lasciviously tracing up and down. “I am no prize to be won,” she spits out, though it’s hard to keep her anger going with the love flowing from her. It feels foreign, giving love like this, but she wants her stallion back on his hooves as fast as possible.

The Storm King steps back, arms folded across his chest, the same fangy grin he had the entire fight still plastered on his face. He gives Chrysalis a cocky shrug, as if her actions prove otherwise. “Besides, I’m totally over the cute little pony thing. And you’ve got too much cute little pony in you.”

He looks far too comfortable with losing and with Chrysalis’ return glare. It makes Luna uncomfortable. She knows the Storm King loves power, and will do anything to obtain it. Why throw a fight he could have won by using the staff properly? Because it might have been against the rules? A glance at her Sister betrays no answer to her next question.

What is he planning?

Morning light streams through the frilly pink curtains of Diamond Tiara’s room, softening the harsh glare but still bright enough to wake the slumbering young mare. She yawns, one hoof grumpily groping for her namesake. She has to push aside her diary and journal and unset alarm clock to find it on her nightstand right where she left it, and she sleepily rubs at her eyes after putting her tiara squarely where it belongs.

On the head of a winner.

She flashes herself a winning smile in her full-length mirror as she saunters to her personal bathroom. Although the mirror isn’t alicorn-length. Or even human-length, for that matter. And, as she thinks about it during her shower, none of the mirrors in their mansion are that size. That should be fixed, and sooner rather than later - it would be unbecoming for a Rich pony to be unprepared - and she makes a quick trip to her journal to jot a reminder down.

One ear twitches, listening for the sounds of Randolph bustling around the kitchen, but nothing can be heard. Her jaw sets as neither can she hear Thorax preparing breakfast, or even her dahm Silver Set. The frustrated grumble in the back of her throat turns into a long, drawn out sigh. They must still be busy in Canterlot, or not awake.

She ignores the rumble in her belly by focusing on her breathing, going through a quick set of morning stretches. She rubs a hoof along her damp coat, but it’s only the water from the shower. She frowns, going through the routine again, slower this time, elongating every motion and pause, and it leaves her panting.

She smiles at the light sheen of sweat on her coat. Dam says that earth pony colts find the natural smell of a mare alluring. And she might as well give her own a try, least of all because it is cheap and easy to maintain. And if it doesn’t work? A whole row of her perfume case is dedicated to those scents, but half of them are salt-based. She grimaces at having to apply such a pedestrian odor. At least the Apples aren’t good-for-nothing drunks, even if they enjoy a frothy mug of cider. Doug smells quite salty after a hearty game of buckball, though utilizing that knowledge would be more applicable if her younger brother, Silver Stud, wants to catch the eye - or in this case the nose - of one of the young mares.

Even after her workout and blow-drying her violet mane into her favorite wavy style along her neck, making sure to get the white streak just right, she still hasn’t heard anything from her centrally-located room. Her hoofsteps sound extra loud against the hardwood floors in the hallway. She slows down, now little more than muffled thumps, and carefully pushes open the master bedroom door.

Shadows bathe the entire room, only a thin beam of light from the cracked door streaming through. Everything looks in order, from the mahogany dresser and wide mirror to the closed heavy curtains. And her dam and Thorax laying ponyloaf on the princess-sized bed. Both are softly snoring, her neck tucked under his, and Diamond’s nostrils twitch at the thick, recent musk.

She swiftly, but silently, shuts the door behind her. A calculating smile crosses her muzzle as she walks, then trots to the kitchen. They would both appreciate a hearty breakfast, Thorax especially, and if they’re still sleeping she’ll even deliver it to their bed before she heads out. It was tough to tell with the shadows but he seemed slimmer, and she’s fairly certain your body weight is only supposed to go in one direction when you’re carrying a foal. Especially one as important as her new sister. But changelings are weird.

Opening the door to the larger refrigerator blasts a refreshing wave of cold over her, sealing the sweat on her coat. Apples, pears, or oranges? Apples. Apple juice, orange juice, or milk? Apple juice. Hmm. Is she being too obvious? Eh, might as well stick with the theme. She pulls out the apple butter. Except the only bread she can find is, ugh, two-day old rye. Prench toast? And she can fry up the leftover eggs for Thorax. It might not be enough for him, though.

Their second fridge is tucked away in the corner, concealed among the cabinets. She thinks it’s silly, hiding Thorax’s ready-to-eat meals in case dam’s high society friends come over. At least it’s convenient for him, since Randolph won’t touch it. Something about reminding him of skirmishing with the griffons.

She suppresses her shudder as she reaches past dark-tinted bottles to grab, unpack and reheat some beef cutlets. Not everypony can afford a second kitchen where their ‘ling can cook meat and not stink up the whole place. Somewhat paradoxically, it’s far cheaper than using Pharynx’s newly-opened abattoir. Now there is a changeling who has taken his skills and put them to a productive use!

She wafts a bit of the stench of the newly heated meat out the window. She wants to hold her nose, but a Rich pony does not break down over something as base as a bad smell! Unless that bad smell is associated with a creature deserving of such scorn and derision, and the act of holding one’s nose properly conveys said contempt. Like the last group of griffons who came skulking through town, purveyors of likely purloined products of dubious quality. Even though their price had been lower than anypony local, Thorax didn’t want to purchase their ‘goods’. He didn’t trust the ethicality of their harvesting, if it was legally obtained, and Daddy listened to him and sent the whole troop packing!

It’s amazing what one can do with the right set of advisors. Daddy didn’t know the specifics of the griffon meat industry, and Thorax learned it from a fellow soldier who heard it from an infiltrator who worked there. According to Thorax, there are going to be serious repercussions as soon as Equestrians at large learn of what goes on, and somepony - or someling - needs to be able to fill the resulting void.

So Daddy is taking a big risk by investing heavily into meat production and meat futures, such as Sweet Apple Abattoirs. Pharynx and Ocellus are busily revamping Doug’s seldom-used slaughter barn-

She gags at the thought, but it’s getting less every time. She should continue exposing herself until she can react appropriately instead of instinctually. Even as she finds every aspect of it disgusting.

-not that they called it that outright, and turning what used to be a single back-room operation into a modern facility with the ability to easily expand. It helps, drastically, that changelings can ingest every part of the animal, even the offal and bones, wasting nothing. Otherwise Applejack would have serious issues with their location in the back orchards of Sweet Apple Acres, not to mention Granny Smith. She wants to know how that conversation went successfully, if only to improve her negotiating repertoire.

She loves how her sire discussed with Silver Stud and her the intricacies of why and how he made these investments. How much of this was simply keeping your eyes and ears open; he learned of the problem when Thorax mentioned his broodmate struggling to find a pony willing to back the radical venture, and thus got his hoof in the door. How bits are just one way to ensure loyalty, but more importantly how being a friend in a time of need is a surefire way to make a friend for life, indeed. Although one should take care to ensure their investments are producing properly; there is no sense in sending good bits chasing after bad. He explained what sort of gains they might expect and further opportunities to be on the lookout for, should the changeling population explode like Queen Chrysalis desires. And the risk involved; if something happens to the changelings everything they invested would be lost.

Even though her brother is the most likely next proprietor of Barnyard Bargains, and she won’t directly use the advice, she still finds the example illuminating. How to gain friends, influence ponies, and even if you yourself aren’t able to take advantage of an opportunity how to redirect it to a friend who can.

Breakfast finishes quickly, her own included. She loads sliced apples next to high stacks of Prench toast, drizzles thick syrup on top, and sets glasses of juice on the side. One tray clips on top of the other, locking the glasses in place. A quick motion sets the stack on her back, and one precarious flight of stairs later she stands in front of her parent’s doorway, having made no effort to conceal her approach. She takes a deep breath, knocks twice, and pushes the door open again.

“Good morning!” she calls as she enters.

“D-Diamond Tiara!” Spoiled Rich shouts, frantically searching from side to side and grimacing at Thorax’s sleeping form. She spins around to face her filly, heedless of the sheets tangling around her hooves, tail clenching between her flanks. “What are you doing here?”

The startled tone surprises Diamond Tiara; her quick step back nearly sends the trays tumbling. “I-I’m sorry, mother-most-dear. I just...”

Thorax, still at Spoiled’s side, yawns sleepily. His nostrils twitch. “Ooh!” he exclaims, darting up and leaping off the bed, wings keeping him to a gentle glide. As soon as he lands his hooves beat the same happy dance from yesterday. “Is that breakfast I smell?”

Diamond Tiara straightens as she sees her dam’s harsh glare soften, but she keeps her head bowed. “I just wanted to make you breakfast in bed,” she whimpers. She sniffles at her dam’s rebuffing gaze. “D-did I do something wrong?”

Spoiled Rich sighs, long and drawn-out enough for her to untangle herself from the sheets. “No, dearest,” she says as she carefully steps down. Thorax’s horn lifts the first tray from Diamond Tiara’s back and places it next to him, digging into the beef with gusto. Spoiled Rich watches with mild disdain as she approaches her filly, removing the other tray and setting it next to her. She reaches a hoof forward, a sharp flick of her nose ordering her filly forward. “I was just… worried.”

Diamond Tiara stumbles forward, half-heartedly accepting the embrace. She looks up, but her dam’s face is as impassive as always. “I thought you’d like breakfast in bed,” she explains again, hoping to see a warm smile. “Since Randolph isn’t here, and Daddy...”

Spoiled Rich silences her filly with a gentle pat against her mane. “I know,” she states softly, allowing a hint of warmth to break through. “I… miss your sire, too.” She glances over at Thorax, the changeling gulping down his last piece of Prench toast. “Though I suspect he would not appreciate this particular scent in his bedroom.”

“Oh.” Diamond Tiara giggles nervously, inwardly appalled at her lack of foresight. Why did she think bringing meat here would be a good idea? “I guess not.”

“Do remember that in the future.” Spoiled Rich takes a bite of the apple, savoring the sweet taste. It turns to a frown as she stares down at the changeling inching his way across the floor, his tongue nearly to her tray. He stops only as he notices that she has spotted him. “Yes?”

“Um.” Thorax offers his best apple-eating grin, made all the more apple-eating by the apples impaled on his fangs. He points at the half-eaten apple in her hoof. “You gonna eat that?”

Spoiled Rich turns her attention to the apple, then back to the changeling grinning at her. “It is unbecoming of a Rich pony - and as a member of the herd, you are - to beg.”

In the blink of an eye Thorax sits rump down, back straight, hooves neatly placed inside his circled back legs as he patiently waits with a carefully crafted smile.

“Acceptable.” Spoiled Rich places the apple on the tray and slides it over so she can give her filly her full attention.

“Thanks!” Thorax interrupts. He doesn’t react to her exasperated glance back at him. “It was always a battle over food in the hive, so we learned to eat quick.”

“Indeed.” Spoiled Rich turns back to Diamond Tiara with a practiced smile. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, dear?” She ignores the changeling neatly devouring the remainder of her breakfast.

“Just to tell you I’d be at Princess Twilight’s again.” Diamond Tiara offers her dam a contrite smile. She isn’t worried about breakfast; her dam is just watching her weight after Pinkie Pie’s party. As they all should be. “Probably all day. I don’t know if I’ll get to my lessons.”

“Hmm.” Spoiled Rich nuzzles her precious filly, nostrils crinkling at the smell. “Very well.” A genuine smile crosses her muzzle as she gently taps her toward the door. She sighs as the violet tail disappears and turns to the changeling. “Do you have plans?”

“Um, not really.” Thorax burps as he stacks one cleaned tray on the other. “Spend time with the little ones. You want to join me again?”

“Somepony ought to keep Barnyard Bargains up and running. And Silver Settings.” She goes to the top shelf of the dresser, pulling out some of the drafting material Filthy keeps in case he has an idea in the middle of the night. A few elegant swishes of her hoof later and she has a sign, in perfect calligraphy, informing anypony inquiring about Silver Set’s jewelry services that she would be available at the department store. She flashes him a grin. “Though if they tire you out, then I suppose we can swap.”

Most days, Diamond Tiara isn’t bothered by clear skies. Or open skies, for that matter. She, like everypony, loves the warm caress of Princess Celestia’s sun on her coat, invigorating even in the throes of winter. She misses it when the clouds cover the sky and runs from the rain when the sun leaves early.

But when she looks up and sees Clear Skies and Open Skies arguing over the clear, open skies? It’s a sad reminder that Ponyville’s head weathermare isn’t around, for all the chromatic-maned pegasus gripes about getting up after her morning run and nap to make sure everything runs smoothly. At least the missing ponies aren’t locked up. Hopefully. Though the struggles of the two assistant chiefs translates far too easily to the rest of the town.

Take Sugarcube Corner. The cheery exterior doesn’t compensate for the lack of Pinkie Pie hawking her latest confectionery masterpieces outside or the… wait, bright windows? And the open sign on the door advertising some special? That isn’t how the Cakes run things.

Despite already having eaten she pushes open the door, curious who is inside.

Nopony is at the counter, but a few subdued groups of ponies munch on decidedly non-customary breakfasts of tall stacks of hay pancakes and syrup. Curiously, they all have little notepads and pencils next to them. The front display cases are nearly empty, none of the specialty cakes or pies or muffins that normally grace the bakery anywhere to be seen. Somehow even the carefree swirls on the ceiling seem somber. Or maybe it’s just the fact that there isn’t a sugar-filled pink streak taking her order as soon as she steps hoof through the door.

Diamond Tiara steps up to the counter, scanning back and forth like it is a seedy salt bar. She barely has to stand up and reach to ring the bell next to the register. Such a difference from just a short year ago! She could barely see over the counter then, even standing on her hind legs.

“Be right there!” comes the muted call from the back kitchen before the door swings open, revealing Meringue sitting on a counter surrounded by a dozen full bowls of mix. Lemon deftly carries a towering plate of pancakes in her teeth and easily balances two just-as-tall stacks on her back. She brightens as she spots Diamond Tiara, somehow smiling through the plate, and bounds over to her as soon as she makes the delivery.

“Hey, D-T! What can I get you? Meringue’s doing some A-L testing again, so pancakes are half off! Five bits if you want a whole dozen!”

“No, thanks, I… Wait, five?” Diamond Tiara eyes Lemon suspiciously. “Aren’t you losing bits at that price?”

Lemon raises a hoof, twisting it back and forth. “It’s for science?”

As much as Diamond Tiara wants to take advantage of such a deal? It would be unbecoming to carry the leftovers out of the shop with her. She shakes her head. “No, thank you.” She glances out the window, but can’t see the missing library from this angle. “I already ate.”

“That’s cool.” Lemon glances at the door as two pegasi walk in, reeking of sweat and damp feathers. “Be right with you!” she calls before turning back to Diamond Tiara. “So, what brings you here?” A worried look flashes across her face, but she perks back up instantly. “It isn’t about yesterday, is it? It’s, just, more and more ponies were coming back, and the Cakes weren’t among them. Somepony has to keep Sugarcube Corner up and running, it’s not like we can just shut everything down every time there’s a crisis and-”

Diamond Tiara holds up a hoof, silencing Lemon’s upcoming rant. The yellow earth pony offers a toothy grin, mercifully silent. “No, it’s not that.” A nervous tremble enters her voice. “I-I was just wondering.” She glances around the store, the two pegasi waiting at the counter watching her curiously. “Do you have time to talk?”

“Talk?” Lemon brightens. “Yeah, sure! Lemme just get you set up over here. Can I get you something to drink? We have apple juice, lemonade, pear juice, orange-”

Diamond Tiara waves a hoof dismissively. She knows the menu, having spent many a school lunch in the bakery. And then she nearly slaps herself. Of course! You have your loss leader that gets the pony in the store, the pancakes, and whatpony wouldn’t need something sweet to wash down the fluffy, sticky confections? Did they learn that sort of business technique from Pinkie Pie or the Cakes, or did they just stumble upon it randomly?

Still, she is a little thirsty. “You have hot chocolate, yes?”

“With the little marshmallows?” Lemon nods, grinning. “And it won’t be larger marshmallows cut into smaller pieces. You only make that mistake once.” She winks as she stops at the corner booth furthest from everypony else.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo are already there. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle glance up from their plates of pancakes while Scootaloo remains slumped over next to an empty plate, lightly slumbering.

“Hey, DT!” Apple Bloom greets with a chipper wave. Her head tilts slightly at the serious expressions on Lemon and Diamond Tiara’s faces. “We were just about to head back to the castle! Though we might need to stop at the farm first.”

Lemon briskly trots away as Apple Bloom pokes Scootaloo in the side. The pegasus grunts as she opens one eye to glare at her sister.

“Actually, this is perfect,” Diamond Tiara whispers as she hops into the booth. “I wanted to ask you...”

The conspiratorial tone draws Scootaloo out of her funk, the three Crusaders leaning in.

“What is it?” Sweetie Belle asks, flipping aside her curly pink and purple bangs to better focus on the earth pony.

“Well,” Diamond Tiara hedges. It’s not a conversation she thought she would ever have and isn’t sure how to continue. Only ten of the thousand changelings came to Ponyville. They went to larger herds or more prominent ones, like hers, and ponies don’t really talk about them like they talk about everything else. It gives her a poor baseline to compare, and she doesn’t like that, not one bit.

Her words blurt out, more direct than she might have intended. “What’s it like having a changeling in your herd?”

The three Crusaders raise an eyebrow with eerie synchronization.

Scootaloo begins. “Who, ‘Cellus? She’s cool, I guess.”

“Keeps to herself, mostly,” Sweetie Belle adds. “I think she’s shy. Or because she’s used to working alone.”

“Ah haven’t spent too much time with her, either,” Apple Bloom concedes. “She’s been workin’ on one of the barns, gettin’ Big Mac’s help on occasion.”

“Big Mac?” Diamond Tiara says, brow furrowing. It’s too similar to her own dilemma to not notice. “Do you think she and Big Mac ever did… anything else?”

“Anything else?” Sweetie Belle asks innocently, only for Scootaloo to snicker loudly. Sweetie Belle’s glare is brief, especially when she realizes it is having no effect, and turns back to Diamond Tiara, again smiling like there is a halo above her head.

“Does she ever ask you…”

Diamond Tiara trails off. It’s not like they don’t know about this stuff, right? The four of them, five if you count Silver Spoon, all got their lesson in anatomy from Big Mac together, after all. They’re good friends, like when they helped her win School Pony President and get her cutie mark! It shouldn’t be so awkward to talk about this with them!

The other three stare at her, waiting for her to continue.

Diamond Tiara reluctantly does. “To do things with her?” She makes a little motion with her forelegs, hooves tapping against each other. “Weird things?”

“You mean like when she needed love?” Scootaloo shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure. It was, what, once a week?” She glances at her sisters.

“It wasn’t that often,” Apple Bloom corrects. “‘Cause there’s a bunch of us. ‘Specially compared to the Rich herd. Ah mean, it’d be friendly nuzzles. A long kiss.”

A blush spreads across Sweetie Belle’s face. “Sometimes, she’d use her tongue. That got really awkward.”

Scootaloo interjects with a wicked smirk, “Like the time you gave Spike a hoofjob?”

Diamond Tiara’s eyes go wide, but it’s nothing compared to Sweetie Belle’s. Or how the previously white unicorn matches the pink pony’s coat.

“Scootaloo!” Sweetie Belle hisses out.

“You did what?” Diamond Tiara demands, but keeps her voice down. Fortunately, none of the other customers are close enough to hear. Not that everypony doesn’t know about the budding relationship. Spike did turn into a colossal dragon and foalnap her from the schoolhouse in front of everypony. And if that doesn’t end a relationship she isn’t sure what will. At least it’ll be a great story to tell their foals, if they can have them.

“What?” Scootaloo says obliviously, obviously having inherited her dam’s social grace. “I’m just saying, if you used your mouth like ‘Cellus, he might have wanted another one.”

“T-that wasn’t the problem!” Sweetie Belle insists, feverishly looking at anything in the room but Scootaloo. Diamond Tiara’s inquisitive stare gets her to explain. “I-it’s just because he isn’t mature enough.”

“Ah thought he turns sixteen in a month,” Apple Bloom says, confused. “Ah’d almost say he was too old.”

Diamond Tiara stiffens. Most ponies stick to those born close to them, but there aren’t any hard and fast rules. And it’s loosened even more if you transplant from one community to another. But the idea that you are thinking like that about a pony who hasn’t even been born, much less gotten her mark? She knows she needs to wait for Pomarbo to get his, but judging by the rest of their herd she won’t need to wait too long.

“Biologically speaking,” Sweetie Belle elaborates, and she tries to keep her voice from trembling. “Yes, he’s eight years older than us, just like Daddy and most of the mares, but he’s a dragon. We don’t know much about them.” She sticks her tongue out at Scootaloo.

“Yeah, or it could be that your hooves are too rough,” Scootaloo counters, sticking her tongue right back.

Sweetie Belle gasps, rearing back with a hoof against her chest.

“What?” Scootaloo says, glancing at Apple Bloom for support and finding none. “I’m just saying, you don’t use your horn as much as most unicorns, so they look like Apple Bloom’s.”

“Hey!” Sweetie Belle objects. “I go with dam to Aloe’s for a hoof shave and pamper, thank you very much!”

“Did you start after you tried with Spike?” Scootaloo asks snidely.

Sweetie Belle snorts, turning her nose up and away from Scootaloo in a manner very reminiscent of Diamond Tiara.

“Maybe ya should try with your horn,” Apple Bloom suggests guilelessly, drawing a curious glance from the others. “Ya know. It’d be good practice, and Ah’m sure he’d enjoy it!”

“M-maybe,” Sweetie Belle stammers, obviously conflicted. “H-he just said that it hurt, but that it wasn’t my fault or anything. A-and it’s not like anything came out.” She gulps, then turns to Diamond Tiara. “But as far as I know, Ocellus hasn’t done anything like that.”

“‘Cept with Daddy,” Scootaloo corrects.

“None of the mares?” Diamond Tiara asks, carefully keeping her face neutral. It’s hard, she desperately wants to blurt it out. But getting ponies to do what you want them to do doesn’t help if you don’t know what the right thing to do is. And she’d never impugn her dam like that!

“Uh,” Apple Bloom draws out, frowning as she looks between her sisters. “Not that Ah know of?” She turns as Lemon approaches with a mug of steaming hot chocolate. “Hey, L! Has Pinkie Pie ever been, ya know, intimate with Ocellus?”

Lemon doesn’t bat an eye. “She’ll try anything once.” She slides the mug in front of Diamond Tiara, who grins at the dozen little marshmallows making a tiny crown. “But I don’t think she did it again.”

Diamond Tiara harrumphs. Maybe it was a one time thing for her dam, too? Her words come out more spiteful than she means. “Well, what about Big Mac? Think she ever messes around with him?”

A deep scowl crosses Apple Bloom’s muzzle, a rare sight for a normally chipper pony. “That’s mah uncle you’re talkin’ about,” she spits out. “And mah sire. How’d you feel if your dam weren’t gettin’ enough attention, and went to somestallion else?”

“Hey!” Diamond Tiara shouts, drawing the attention of many of the other customers in the bakery. Towering above them on the booth isn’t quite enough, and she stomps her forelegs onto the table. “You take that back! My dam would never do that!”

“She’s not saying she would,” Sweetie Belle cut in, ever the peacemaker. It does little to soothe Diamond Tiara’s fury. “But do you think I was happy when Rarity thought about finding somestallion else? Even with Daddy’s okay?”

Diamond Tiara’s breath catches in her throat. She never suspected there is or was that kind of rift in the Apple herd. She retreats to the booth, tucking her head down.

“Of course not!” Sweetie Belle huffs. “It’d mean I wasn’t good enough!”

“You’re good enough,” Scootaloo consoles, nuzzling her sister. It brings a small smile to the unicorn. Scootaloo frowns, looking back at her wings. “Me, on the other hoof…”

“Don’t talk that way,” Apple Bloom commands sternly.

“Yeah!” Lemon cuts in. “Besides, all your dams are having another!” She winks at Scootaloo. “Even if Dash is only doing it 'cause she found some old-fangled way of proving her Loyalty.”

Scootaloo snorts. “Yeah,” she concedes, snickering as she shakes her head. “During her heat? She wouldn’t even give Daddy a muzzlejob. Any other time? She’d jump him faster’n anymare.”

“I always thought of the changelings as any other mare,” Lemon says, shrugging. “In the herd, at least. And some mares like to foal around with other mares. It doesn't mean they’re neglected or anything.”

“Yeah,” Diamond Tiara says ambivalently. She feels a lot better about seeing her dam and Thorax together. “And the changelings would get love from anypony, mare or stallion.”

Lemon nods. “And it’s been, what, a week? Less than that? Since the changelings don’t need to steal love. Now that they don’t need to be shacked up to some big herd that can provide that love?” She shrugs again. “I bet we’re going to see some big changes around here.”

“Not that there hasn’t been enough of that already,” Diamond Tiara says with a wide smirk. She raises her hoof as she looks over at Lemon. “You know, maybe I will take some pancakes.”

Lemon grins as she taps that hoof, then bounds over to the kitchen.

“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.”

“Me?” Doug asks, lips pursing in a slight frown. It’s rare that ponies come to him for help with regards to his new position of Prince Consort. He assumes the requests, if they do exist, get routed through Applejack or Celestia. If anypony comes to him directly it has to do with things he would have done before he got the title. Though even those requests are few and far between.

He warily regards the predator in front of him, even if hippogriffs primarily consume fish instead of ponies. The sharp talons are certainly capable of rending through his armor, a soft-shelled crab that screams. Yet curiosity wins out; he stands straight and meets the piercing eyes. “What sort of assistance?”

Sky Beak takes a deep breath, steeling himself. His words are quiet, conspiratorial, as if expecting a shadow to flicker on the other side of the open door. “You must plead our case before Princess Celestia.” His jaw sets, a furious snort escaping his upper beak. “She refuses to listen to us! But if she hears of the injustice, the suffering we endure? That is, or will be, inflicted on anycreature in the Storm King’s way? She would surely come to our aid! And that of everycreature!”

Doug’s nostrils scrunch up. That sounds… well, he wants to defend his mare, to say she doesn’t sound like that. It doesn’t paint Celestia in a good light, not at all. But based on his admittedly spotty knowledge of the alicorn’s history? From watching Rarity plummet to her imminent doom to allowing the Abyssinian slave crisis to continue until everycreature demanded action, Celestia has consistently let ponies, and others, suffer the consequences of their actions. Sometimes she tweaks things, such as sending Twilight Sparkle to Ponyville. Everypony, especially Princess Luna, is grateful for that result. But the exception certainly seems to prove the rule.

“I’m listening,” Doug says diplomatically, careful not to commit to anything just yet. He has some idea of the geopolitical landscape in the southern hemisphere, mostly from listening to Twilight when she joined him at the helm on the tedious journey here. But it’s as incomplete as his knowledge of Equestrian history. “What sort of case?”

The ear-splitting screech of delight is quickly stifled, much to Sky Beak’s chagrin. “Sorry, sorry. I just thought you might turn us down out of hoof like-”

He cuts himself off, clearing his throat with a deep rumble. “Again, I don’t mean to disparage the Caretaker of the Sun, and what she does for all of us. It’s just that… she could do so much more!” Amber eyes flick to the imposing black warship behind him, contempt plain in his vehement glare. “How much do you know about the Storm King’s reign of terror?”

Doug thinks back to the map of Equus in the captains’ cabin. Equestria takes up the northern third of the continent, from the equator to the snow-topped and barren mountains that make up the Crystal Empire and Yakyakistan. The rest of the continent stretches almost to the icy south pole, tapering only slightly. A vast sea connects the Luna Ocean to the west and the Celestial Sea to the east, with the Storm King’s realm in the southwest of that iceberg filled expanse.

Massive storms frequent the island, leaving the majority of the Storm Realm inhospitable. Yet the dormant volcanoes are rich in ores, especially a black metal from which the yeti-like Storm Creatures build their castles and airships. Only the minotaurs come close to their manufacturing and metallurgic expertise. It is too cold to support much vegetation, meaning their main exports are machines, weapons, and soldiers. And, very often, paying to not have said machines crewed by said soldiers point said weapons at you.

“Some,” Doug admits, shifting from one foot to the other. “Isolationist, until they could reliably traverse the ocean to reach the mainland about twenty years ago. Led by Raikou, the Storm King, they secured a foothold, or hoofhold, in the Slug Troll Swamp. They expanded along the southern coast, conquering perhaps a dozen or more nations, until the Council of Creatures brought them in as enforcers. By some accounts their expansion would have continued had they not been employed as such, embroiling the world in war as they enveloped one country or city state after another.”

“True as far as it goes,” Sky Beak says through a gritted beak, “but you speak nothing of the atrocities he has committed. The plundering of the cities, the looting and ransacking of anything he can use to further his conquests. The destruction of any who might stand in his way.” He scowls as he releases a heated snort. “You mentioned the Slug Troll Swamp. Have you heard of Slug Trolls?”

Doug shakes his head.

“And why would you?” Sky Beak waves a talon, indicating a vast stretch of space. “They lived in the appropriately named Slug Troll Swamp. Not quite up to the ‘creature’ designator of intelligence; closer to a manticore. As fast a breeder as pigs, and resilient. I won't claim they had a culture, or were unified in any way besides not attacking each other. But when the Storm King’s foresters came to fuel their furnaces, they resisted. As any creature or animal should. They posed no threat to his rule, but a mere thorn in his side. So he sent his shock troops and eradicated them, to the last.”

Doug nods, grimly. A terrible choice. The contrarian in him has a hard time faulting the Storm King’s decision; how many humans have wiped out predators near them? Though they never had the ability to bargain with them, assuming you could bargain with the trolls.

“And what do you know of hippogriffs?” Sky Beak asks after a palatable pause.

“Less,” Doug says. “My sources are admittedly biased, as the books I've read paint the hippogriffs as little more than marauders and pirates looking to seize goods from honest merchants and cargo haulers traveling between the Storm Realm and the southern coast.”

Sky Beak scowls, wicked talons flexing, enough to get Doug to briefly tense up again.

“If General Seaspray heard how the Royal Navy has been vilified,” he says with a morose shake of his head. “Our sailors were liberating the goods and peoples he captured while the Council turned a blind eye. But the Storm King painted us with the same brush that he used on the slug trolls. The other countries feared his retribution, of being next on his list. And so, when Queen Novo refused to bow her head to his command, he sent his forces against Mount Aris.”

“And the hippogriffs haven’t been seen or heard from since,” Doug states. Except for the obvious exception standing in front of him.

Sky Beak nods grimly. “King Aponis, husband of Queen Novo, gave his life during the battle for Hippogriffia so that we might escape. And Princess Celestia desecrates his sacrifice by ignoring our plea for help!”

“Our?” Doug asks, intrigued. “Your people escaped, and survived?”

“We retreated into the ocean.” Sky Beak raises a wing, spreading the feathers around the joint. Concealed among them is a sliver of pink. “Using this. A shard of the Seasky Pearl. His forces could not follow, and we have lived our lives in fear of his inevitable return. For that is what he seeked, and seeks, an artifact that would allow him and his soldiers to conquer the sea and everything that resides within.”

Doug frowns, crossing his arms. “How could the Council of Creatures allow this?

“Because the Storm King is no fool,” Sky Beak cautions. The blue wing folds back against the hippogriff, concealing the shard. “He waited until the hippogriff seat on the council rotated to the Abyssinians. Just as he waited for the Abyssinians to rotate out before their ‘atrocities’ could be addressed by his pillaging army. He brought forth unsound allegations and unsubstantiated claims against us. And through coercion and threats he convinced enough of the members to betray us to his ambitions. For he cares nothing for the treasures he steals or the people whose lives he destroys. He cares only for himself, to become the single most powerful being in existence.”

I might have him beat there, Doug wryly thinks to himself. Sky Beak raises an eyebrow at Doug’s slight smirk. Even if it was merely temporary. But if that’s the length he needs to go to be more powerful than Celestia?

Doug clears his throat. “So you wish for more than just retribution and revenge? Or to warn and protect others from a similar fate? What would you wish to happen?”

“You think reclaiming Hippogriffia, the Harmonizing Heights, our flight would be enough? The world will only be safe when the storm is stopped for good.” Sky Beak nods firmly. “Anything less will only delay his ambitions. They will not slake, nor will he be satisfied with anything less. And it is only once he has been dealt with that my people will be able to return and rebuild.”

Doug takes a deep breath. “Look,” he says straightforwardly, his voice dropping as he pulls close to the hippogriff. “I agree with you. That this situation is terrible and needs fixing. But it sounds to me like the problem runs deeper than just the Storm King’s ambition. It would be great if we could all live in peace and harmony. But taking an open stance against him could invite the very war that happened to you. And if the Council is as corrupt as you claim? And the other countries smelling blood in the water?”

Sky Beak stiffens. “Then you are no better than Celestia,” he spits out. “Unwilling to do what is right.”

The hippogriff digs his talons into the roof as he strides to the door, leaving divots in his wake. He does not bother to turn back as he disappears inside.

Doug sighs, hand rubbing at his temple. “Not true,” he says to nobody. “I want to do what is right for everycreature.”

For he doesn’t know how much of the hippogriff’s statements are fact or propaganda. The published history, the one he and Twilight read, is written from the side of the winner. In this case the Storm King, an admittedly biased source. But the side of the loser can contain just as much prejudice. And yet it doesn’t seem right to have a population - an entire species, with their unique culture and traits - driven away for the sake of greed and ambition.

Doug goes down three flights of stairs before realizing that he has no idea where he is actually supposed to be going. So he keeps going down until he reaches the expansive atrium. A massive fountain dominates the center, two waterfalls spilling from the horn of an alicorn and the maw of dragon. They pool in four bowls carried on the backs of a yak, griffon, minotaur, and storm creature, each in an impressive pose. Except for the yak, who is just standing there, oblivious to the load, while the others make some semblance of straining. The last tier contains every other known creature - except, for probably obvious reasons, a human. He doesn’t recognize one, squatting down to peer at the one-eyed, goat horned biped.

“Excuse me,” a pony dressed in light cloth armor says as she walks up to Doug. It seems like a much better choice than gold in the blistering climate. She smiles as he glances at her. “Looking for something?”

“Um, a bit lost,” Doug admits. Her smile widens as he turns and points at the creature. “What is that?”

“The Cyclops’ leader, Arimaspi.” The guard seems to delight in being able to answer his question. “Though after their… spat with the griffons years ago they went into seclusion, much like the hippogriffs. Fancy seeing one of them after all these years?”

“Yeah, fancy that,” Doug says, getting up. “You know where everyone else went?”

“Yup! Follow me.”

The guard leads Doug back to the staircase, up one flight and down a hallway. They arrive in a large auditorium. Nearly a hundred seats of various sizes and shapes line the tiered amphitheater. The roof tiles are arranged to project the sound from the stage while deadening that from the neighboring seats. Five doors ring the top section, two at the middle, and two at the bottom by the stage.

Dotted among the seats are the various delegates, some intermingling with the others. Ponies dressed in waiter outfits bring in trays loaded with items of every color, shape, and texture, a breakfast buffet awaiting as soon as you order. The guard bids Doug a farewell with a short nod as he enters, returning to her post.

Doug walks down to the bottom, the din of the Equestrians growing from barely understandable murmurs to a noisy roar, even without Pinkie Pie. Mostly it comes from the cheers and growls as Applejack and Rainbow Dash take turns trying to toss onion rings around Twilight’s horn. The odd part is the floor is completely spotless, but only around the ponies, even when a piece impacts the ground. Even the air smells fresher, not even a hint of the pungent spices the other creatures are consuming.

A waiterpony brings him a menu. The first two pages are all vegetarian treats he might find in a high-class Canterlot cafe. The next contains drinks, and the last lists of meats - including, to his sorrow, pony, and not the bean curd variety - and then gemstones. He orders a mix of fruit filled crepes, the waiter pausing before exiting the clean circle.

He sits next to the surly alicorn, a fond rubbing of her mane and neck failing to break her cantankerous mood. “Need me to get them to stop?” He catches an onion ring as it misses the mark completely. It tastes remarkably good, lots of oil. He swipes the next one out of the air before it smacks her in the face.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash shouts. “That one was going in!”

“No,” Twilight responds dourly, huffing. “It’s their way of ‘putting me in chains’, like a horn ring would stop me.”

“Unless it was anti-magic?” Doug asks.

“Yup. But that’s why Celestia has her detection spell going. If you smell rotten eggs, watch out.”

She smirks slightly, and even the tiny break in her glum mood brighten’s Doug’s smile. It’s a good thing Pinkie Pie is off somewhere else, she would have hated the somberness everypony harbors behind silly games and cheer.

It takes him a moment to realize why, since they haven’t heard of the Hippogriff’s plight. And that is when a tall Saddle Arabian mare steps forward, her voice projecting.

“Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings, please come to the stage.”

Chrysalis pauses, her levitated fork halfway to her mouth. Half of her monstrous spinach and cheese quiche remains, but the insult of interrupting her second breakfast pales in comparison to the tangible waves of hatred, disgust, and loathing radiating from everycreature. The din in the auditorium fades as she rises, ponderous steps taking her to center stage.

As she walks more creatures enter the auditorium. Three griffons join Delegate Gruff, their grasping claws and predatory looks focusing on Celestia. A slender teal dragon joins Garble, huffing and staring at the ceiling with a bored expression. Three yaks, nearly as massive as Prince Rutherford, join the delegate and sit a good distance away. Two goats join Iron Grip, carrying saddlebags full of empty cans and books. The minotaur grabs a can, chewing for a moment before spitting the metal out and glaring at the goat in question. It ignores him, picking up the chunk of metal and gulping it down.

“Point of order,” Delegate Gruff calls from the opposite end of the auditorium. He sneers contemptuously.

Chrysalis scowls. They are going to make her wait on stage while they discuss some bureaucratic minutiae?

Alira, the Saddle Arabian mare standing behind a podium on the stage, glances down at a thin stack of papers. She turns to her husband, Haakim, who is standing at the door and awaiting her any command. He nods at her. She turns back to Gruff. “Proceed.”

“As per the Articles of the Council of Creatures,” Gruff states formally, the single good eye of the griffon twinkling, “a party to a dispute shall refrain from voting. As the Changelings are currently residing within Equestria, the Equestrian delegate shall refrain from voting. This will also apply to the remaining votes under consideration.”

Alira turns to Celestia. “Princess Celestia of Equestria, do you contest this?”

“Yes,” Princess Celestia answers, her face carefully neutral. None of the creatures have bothered to stand when speaking and neither does she. “Many - if not all - of the creatures represented here have some qualm or another with the changelings. You might as well have all of us refrain from voting.”

A growl grows in the back of Chrysalis’ throat. That is how Celestia defends her? She measures the distance to the closest door, formulating an escape plan. She doesn’t want to leave, not like this, but should worst come to worst...

“Equestria has the least concern of any of us,” Gruff rebuts. His bombastic tone only gets more intense. “Wh-y, if King Gato had not been impersonated by a changeling, Aramaspi would never have made off with the Idol of Boreas!”

“What?” Chrysalis exclaims, stamping a hoof. She knows the griffons are keen to blame every disaster on her and her brood. But that?

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Gruff shouts, waving a yellow talon at Chrysalis, “Paradin’ up there without any chains, like you’re some kind of misunderstood chick! Or a horn ring, so you can’t flee like the coward you are! Turncoats and traitors, the lot of you! Why, if I-”

Alira clears her throat, loudly enough to silence the griffon making squeezing gestures with his talons. “Delegate Gruff, please keep your… allegations to the topic at hoof.”

Gruff grumbles, scowling, but says nothing.

He has nothing on Chrysalis’ vehement sneer, lips peeling back to expose wicked fangs.

Alira’s steady gaze sweeps across the room. “If there is nothing else? Princess Celestia, I believe you have made your stance clear.”

“Indeed,” the alicorn states, but there is a sadness in her eyes as she bends her head slightly. “Equestria votes no.”

The dragon delegate is next. “If you weren’t in bed with them?” Garble sticks a claw in his mouth, making a disgusting retching sound. “I might’a said no. But it’s hard to argue when your Prince is married to her.” He pauses for a long second before quickly speaking and taking his seat. “Dragons vote yes.”

Chrysalis frowns, especially when she sees Spike’s look of betrayal and how the larger red dragon turns away from the smaller purple one. Spike blindly reaches up to his oldest friend, only for the lavender hoof to pull him across her chest in a painful-looking hug.

“The Storm Realm votes no,” the Storm King says idly, scratching his back with the crystal-tipped staff. He offers no other explanation, turning to the waiter. “Get me more of that roasted stuff! Please and thank you!” He waves as the waiter departs, dabbing at his face with a napkin. Next to him smolders Tempest Shadow, her unflinching gaze never straying from Celestia.

Chrysalis’ eyes widen. She didn’t trust the Storm King to keep his word, but now they only need one more vote!

Prince Rutherford rumbles, “Changeling steal Yak best secrets! Give to ponies!” He stamps a hoof on the chair in front of him and it shatters. Nocreature else say near him for exactly this reason. “Yak vote yes!”

“Yak secrets?” Iron Grip deep laugh shakes his taut belly. “Iron Grip would like to know where ponies got idea for train engine! Changelings in Equestria long before Queen Chrysalis make move on Shining Armor, yes?” He puts his hands under his chin, flexing his massive arms as he stares at the changeling queen. “Minos vote yes!”

“What’ll it cost you, Princess?” Gruff cackles, stretching his talons toward the alicorn. And just as quickly he snatches them back. “Too bad the price just went up! The Griffons vote aye.”

For a moment Chrysalis just stares. It… it passed? But despite the gloom settling upon her, the inklings and droplets of greed and tyranny-laced-joy she picks up from the creatures? She can sense hope. It’s small, it’s faint, but it’s there. So she stands, confident, unwilling for those seeking to dominate her to sense her weakness.

“The motion passes,” Alira states, her breath catching as she tries to keep her voice steady. She tentatively turns to address the most powerful being in existence. Or, at least, in the room. “P-Princess Celestia, do you agree to abide by the ruling?”

“Sister,” Luna growls, restrained fury escaping through gritted teeth. “You will bow to these creatures?”

“Luna, my Sister,” Celestia whispers. “It is but a minor setback. We will prevail.” She turns to Alira. “You have my word.”

“And we all trust your word,” Gruff cajoles from the other side. He raises a talon at the imperious changeling. “It’s hers that we don’t!”

“You’re going through with this?” Doug asks from Celestia’s other side. He has to raise his voice as the auditorium breaks into stomps of agreement.

“What would you have me do?” Celestia whispers, her voice reaching him clearly.

“Perhaps we can talk about that before this farce goes any further,” Doug angrily whispers back as the stomps die down.

“Perhaps,” Celestia replies, but remains focused on Alira.

The Saddle Arabian mare flips to the next page, shuffling the pages in front of her. “Onto the next item. The changelings. What shall be done with them?” She turns to Gruff. “You have the floor.”

“Mhm,” the griffon grumbles as he prowls forward, his low profile giving the appearance of a lion stalking through an underbrush of chairs. He reaches the stage, but never acknowledges Chrysalis’ presence.

“We all know the stories,” he begins, stalking from one side of the stage to the other. “Anygriff can tell you.” His eye narrows mirthfully, but it’s a greedy smile that accompanies it. “For a couple of bits.” He stands a bit straighter, none of the mirth remaining. “The cities destroyed. The lives ruined. The goods lost, the ideas stolen. They are thieves and despoilers of anything and everything they touch, rotting it from the inside, sucking it dry of everything they can before moving on.”

Chrysalis stands tall, allowing his wrath and ardor to wash over her like so much hot air, even as he whirls on her and jabs accusing at her face.

“I will hear you confess to every crime you have committed,” he demands, seething with rage. “Every face you’ve stolen, every bed you’ve snuck inside, every griffon you’ve replaced. Every beating heart you have carved out and devoured. And then I will have your head, so I can cast it in the Abysmal Abyss where it belongs.”

Gruff holds Chrysalis’ gaze for a moment, snarling at her unflinching visage. Then he sweeps to the side, returning to his coterie.

Cadance holds close to Shining Armor, liquid fear bubbling in his eyes. In her’s, too, the thought of losing his foal, even if it is the one with Chrysalis and not her own, more than either can bear.

“Thank you, Delegate Gruff,” Alira projects through the auditorium. It silences many of the whispers trading between the creatures. She nods to the changeling. “Queen Chrysalis, your response.”

The heavyset changeling lifts an ebony hoof, inspecting it for a moment. “I have never held a beating heart in my hooves, or my magic,” she states casually. She ignores the numerous beings she has swallowed whole, though they had been unconscious, never to awaken. Her head turns to regard the one-eyed griffon. “Can you say the same?”

Chrysalis shakes her head, gaze sweeping to the rest of the creatures as Gruff fumes. She settles on Celestia, wondering how the alicorn will help in her defense. But for now she appears to be content with sitting there and doing nothing. Like she has done far too many times.

“I hear allegations. Assertions. Claims made without proof.” Her gaze returns to Gruff. “You think I replaced your King all those years ago. I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted, to then have failed so utterly in my ruling that my incompetence could only have been intentional.”

“Why, you!” Gruff shouts, only the talons of his comrades restraining him keeping him from charging the stage.

“Delegate Gruff,” Alira cautions as the fez-topped griffon struggles.

“You dare insult Griffonstone?” he bellows, spittle flying from his beak. He shrugs off one griffon, only to have another grab his wing. “And yet even our rubble is better than anything you could create!”

Chrysalis laughs, short and derisive.

“Then what of Trot?” the deep voice of Iron Grip asks, intensely peering at the changeling through his small, beady eyes. A muscled hand dwarfs the book he picks up and waves around, Twilight gasping at the teeth marks along the spine. “Princess Celestia herself said she stopped you from taking over! Iron Grip demands to know!”

Eyes turn to Princess Celestia. “Queen Chrysalis was imprisoned for her crimes, along with her brood. Her sentence was paid. Any crimes before that? I do believe there is nary a creature here who can speak to being wronged by her.”

“What about The Great Sergio?” Garble stands up, pounding one clawed hand into the other. He scowls at Celestia. “You said you needed a dragon to watch over her and make sure she didn’t escape! He never returned!”

“The Great?” Chrysalis states coldly, flames dancing in her eyes as she relives the torturous time she and her brood spent imprisoned inside the volcano. “Sergio was a vicious warden who delighted in devouring my brood alive.” She hears Celestia’s gasp, sees the hoof covering her gaping mouth, but cannot believe the alicorn did not know what had occurred. “We repaid the favor the day we escaped.”

“You did what!?”

Fury breaks from the red dragon in a great gout of flame, spit directly at the changeling queen. Her horn flares, molten slag dripping off her hasty shield. Smoke fills the stage as the wooden floor combusts, bedlam erupting as Garble prepares another lava burst.

Shields of pink spread from Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor, sentinels protecting the ponies from any wayward bursts and simultaneously keeping Applejack and Rainbow Dash from joining the fray. They press against the pink barrier, only to yelp in terror as a glob of orange and yellow splatters against the shield and sinks to the floor. The griffons and minotaur spread away from any other stray projectiles, as does Tempest Shadow, leaving only the Storm King nonchalantly chewing his breakfast.

Chrysalis hunkers down as she grimly considers the situation. Two of the five have made clear their position. What chance is there that the yaks or the minotaurs or even the Storm King might vote for her execution? And that of all of her brood? Would Celestia stand idly by and allow it to happen, as she has allowed so many other things?

It is not a chance she can allow.

Her horn flares, forming a bubble of green that sinks into the stage and leaves nothing but smoke and fire behind.

Chrysalis reappears in the dimly-lit basement amid a bevy of cleaning supplies, spare toilet paper ranging from pony sized to sheets that would cover a bed, and cake. Dozens, if not hundreds, of vibrantly colored crates of emergency cake stacked almost to the ceiling. She can tell it is designated such from the tiny pink sticky notes on every single one that read ‘break open in case of cake-based emergency’, accompanied by a tiny doodle of a smiling Pinkie Pie, each in a different pose or smile.

She grimaces at the icky cuteness, tepidly stepping away, only to knock over a half dozen mops and brooms. The clatter echoes loudly, but it’s nothing compared to the banging and stomps coming from above. She frantically glances at the single closed door to the storeroom, readying her horn to subdue anycreature that might come to investigate.

After a few tense seconds she takes a deep breath, calming herself. She glares at her ebony sides. The majority of the extra bulk she gained after her transformation came in and between her legs, enlarging her barrel and thickening her muscles. It throws off her momentum and gait every now and then, especially when she’s carrying a few hundred extra pounds.

Just exactly what those extra pounds constitute gets her to pause her search for an escape route. Her hoof reaches back, tenderly pressing against the first of six barely visible bulges. The oldest egg is a mere two weeks old and ready to be laid - past due, in fact. As wide as her hoof and twice as tall, very soon the five-pound husk would disgorge its grub-like occupant. With any luck she will be back in Ponyville when this happens, ready to greet and nurture the newest member of her next brood. Though they would need to find a new location. Perhaps deeper in the Everfree? Or across the ocean to the west and try their luck there.

Next is a one-week-old egg, happily incubating. About the same size and nestling among four others ready to accept a stallion’s seed. She would only activate one at a time unless her situation changed drastically. And then she gets to her engorged stomach, enclosed by thick muscles and unyielding chitin, busily churning meat and bone into stores of fats, carbohydrates, and proteins. Everything a newly formed and rapidly growing ‘ling would need.

Her head bows down as she reaches the last part. The copied womb doesn’t feel foreign, though somecreature dissecting her might wonder how a pony’s reproductive organs got inside a changeling. It’s a part of her, like any other, though this one had taken an almost unpalatable amount of love energy to integrate into the rest of her. At least the experience was easier for her ‘lings to copy when they cleaved - individually and collectively, literally and figuratively - to Equestria.

And inside that womb is her foal. Her first foal.

A muffled conversation at the door snaps her head up. What should she do?! Hide behind something? The garishly bright boxes, despite their vast number, aren’t in a good position, and neither are the toilet paper rolls. A blinding flash and subdue? Only if detected. She grimaces as she grabs a mop, rests it on her head to cover her horn and conspicuous mane. She hunkers down as close to the colorful boxes of cake as she can without knocking even more over. The door will block their view, and if they don’t look too closely her bulk might blend into the dark walls.

The door opens, a cloth-clad guard pony and a violet-inscribed storm guard poking their heads inside. They scan the room, slowly, and every muscle in her body screams that they are going to see through her ludicrous disguise.

But their eyes pass right over her. They glance at each other before shutting the door, and she can hear the loud stomps of one guard walking down the hallway.

She sighs in relief, hoof pressing against her chest. But that only reminds her of the foal inside her. It’s an expenditure she doesn’t want to repeat, especially twice, which severely limits her options as far as escaping. And giving her up just feels… wrong. She might be able to disguise herself as an overweight pegasus and fly away. A roc would be better, if more conspicuous, or a bugbear. If it was a changeling inside her it wouldn’t be a problem. But a pony?

She scowls. Why is she getting sentimental about this one collection of cells barely five weeks old? Because she just got a beating heart of her own? Or was it because she desperately wanted this experiment to succeed? So many of her other ventures failed. But this one? She really, truly thought it would bring her changelings the love they deserve.

Her ears prick at the loud approach of booted steps. Too light to be a storm guard, not the right cadence to be a pony, unless they were doing a perfect parody of Pinkie Pie walking upright. Her scowl intensifies; it better not be that pink menace come to whisk wallows away with waxed warm words.

The door opens. And who should come through but the creature she should have expected. His gaze sweeps the room, immediately finding her, though his eyes flick to her horn as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Doug greets softly. The corners of his mouth tug to a wry smirk. She only realizes why as he quips, “Why, if it isn’t the most beautiful mop stand I’ve ever seen.”

She rips the mop off her head and throws it to the floor, a hoof straightening her mane. She scowls, ignoring the compliment. “I suppose you’ve come to drag me back.” She looks around the room as he pauses. “How did you even find me?”

“Teleports aren’t exactly hard to trace, “Doug says, searching for somewhere to sit. “That and the guards aren’t quite as incompetent as they might seem. They’d very much like to keep their emotions inside their bodies, thank you very much.”

“And you don’t?” Chrysalis retorts with a taunting sneer.

“Hey, I already wear my emotions on my sleeve.” Doug winks at Chrysalis, earning himself a roll of emerald eyes. “They went and found me, since we’re hoping you’ll come back.”

Chrysalis snorts. “We?”

“Celestia took your place.” Doug sighs at Chrysalis’ callous stare. “Just like she promised. Luna thinks she’s insane, of course, but she finagled your ‘departure’ into a recess while you recover from being unduly attacked. Which you were, no doubt about it, and they reprimanded Garble for his outburst. Would you believe he didn’t actually care about Sergio? Some friends dragons are.” He smiles at her, but weakly. “It is contingent on you coming back, though.”

“Obviously. You merely want to save your precious Celestia.” Chrysalis turns her head upward with a grimace. Every minute she spends talking will be that much more likely to convince her to stay. “If she cannot save herself, what possible chance does she have of saving me?”

“Well, you’re right about the first part, mostly.” Doug walks past Chrysalis, pulling out one of the larger crates of cake and sitting on it. He reaches an arm forward, inviting her. “I care about you, too.”

He goes from just under her head to uncomfortably low, even if she likes and is used to looking down on everycreature. She grumbles as she sinks down and rests her turgid barrel against the cool floor. She’d need to burn more calories to compensate.

“But the second?” Doug shrugs as his arm retreats back to his side, never having enticed those ear scratches he loves to give. “I’d like to think that she could, at any time, play the ‘Screw the rules, I have the sun!’ card. But for some cockamamie reason she plays along with their games. Maybe it’s the only way she can entertain herself after ruling for a thousand years. Maybe she knows how many cities she would have to turn to glass before everycreature left her alone. Or, maybe, she has as her goal the self-actualization of as many ponies and creatures as possible.” He jabs a gloved finger at the changeling staring him down. “And I think that’s a goal you share.”

“Preposterous,” Chrysalis flatly states.

“Fair enough,” Doug admits when she declines to further elaborate. “Maybe your goals are different. After all, you only cared about you and your own for as long as Celestia’s been ruling alone. Right?“

She doesn't counter his assertion.

“But you wanted each of your brood to succeed. For them to strive, to improve, to be the best they can possibly be.”

Chrysalis turns her head away. “Too many,” she grunts out, not willing for her weakness and attachment to be seen. “Too many were cut short before their prime, lost before they could realize their potential. Or were forced into short term decisions with long term consequences, because we needed to survive today to even make it to tomorrow.”

“I think that would be a better thing to say,” Doug says, smiling encouragingly.

She stares at him for a long moment. “What?”

Doug motions to the door. “When you return and argue your position in front of the Council. You should focus on that potential. How your goal has been to improve. There have been obstacles in your way, sure.”

“And when they name those obstacles?” Chrysalis demands harshly, interrupting him. She cannot believe she is considering it. “Because each of those obstacles has a name. Trot. Sergio. Cadance.”

“True,” Doug concedes. “But you can reframe those obstacles, right?”

“The Stallion of the Elements,” Chrysalis goads with a vicious sneer, “telling me to lie?”

Doug chuckles, a wry smile crossing his face. “Maybe you’re afraid Celestia would do a better job arguing your position than you would. After all, she promised to take your place. Not just the punishment.” He taps a finger against his chin, looking up at the ceiling. “But I’m not quite comfortable with the idea of her and Shining Armor. I’m jealous like that. I might need you to stick around for that part.”

“Why, you…” She wants to slap that smirk off his face, but she’d probably take a bit too much bone to make it worthwhile. She grits her teeth instead. “You’re using reverse psychology on me.”

“Sure. But I actually believe what I say.” Doug smiles, more genuine this time. “And that’s what I mean. Reframe it. I think you’d do a much more effective job than Celestia because you know why you did your actions. Why you chose the path you did. And that will make it more genuine, more believable, than her guessing at your reasons ever could be.” He focuses on her. “What were your goals?”

Chrysalis perks up, frowning as she considers.

“Survival,” she starts, taking a deep breath. “Obviously.”

“Of course,” Doug agrees. He leans forward, massaging his head with a bit of a grimace. “Everycreature has a right to life. Though sometimes one’s pursuit conflicts with another’s. And with the number of predator species out there, they’d be hard pressed to argue that you are wrong and they aren’t, especially since you don’t leave a corpse.”

“Not quite true,” Chrysalis admits. She watches his lips pull against his teeth in a thin grimace. “When we first started out, and when we are starving, we had… difficulty restraining ourselves. And while most creatures think of us as eating love, it is more… we eat their magic, tainted by the taste of their emotions. Despair and despondency taste bitter and sour, unpalatable unless you are in a frenzy. In which case the sheer… volume and ease of access makes it an appealing choice. But too often a fatal one.”

“I see,” Doug says carefully. He raises his hand again, inviting her. And this time she accepts, scooching forward and letting those fingers twist into her thick cobalt mane. It is only after several moments of deep thought that he continues. “That would explain the invasions.”

Chrysalis nods, pressing against his hand and delighting in the love expressed through his touch. She has to restrain herself or she might roll over like the Apple’s dog, with as much as she wants him on and in her belly.

“It kept my brood alive, when infiltrators could not provide sufficient love. Too many were allowed to breed without sufficient… yields.” She cannot help but wonder why she is expressing remorse for her actions. “Perhaps that is why I do not wish to leave your fecund land. There is more love here than any other place I have traveled. Even if we no longer need to feed on love, sharing still proves nourishing. But with the Council...”

“Sure,” Doug agrees. “But that’s still the survival issue. Eat and grow, breed and multiply. There has to be something past that, beyond that, or you’re nothing more than a virus that wants to convert everything into more of itself.”

“I thought life justified its own existence,” Chrysalis asks, curious how this doesn’t counter his earlier point, one which not everycreature shared. Even she, she hates to admit, did not share it in the past. “And that is why we have sought to gain power, for when others don’t recognize that right.”

“I…” Doug stalls. He ponders for several seconds. “It’s hard to say. You have a right to life, but that’s a negative right. Other creatures shouldn’t take your life away, which is where the virus and its forceful converting fails. They aren’t required to provide for you, no more than you are required to provide for them.”

“Then what should we have done?” Chrysalis demands, her ire rising. “If you were in our hooves would you have ushered in a utopia? Is that it?”

Doug laughs, a short and sharp bark. “Hardly. I’m not that conceited. You had your reasons, and I’m sure they were good ones. But if the others see your continued existence as a threat to theirs? Then any increase in your power is something that must be countered. How can you convince them that your end goal isn’t to subjugate everycreature to your control?”

Chrysalis glances away.

Doug sighs, his hand pausing in her mane. “Okay, maybe that was your goal. But does it have to be now? If your survival isn’t at stake, what do you want to do with your life?”

“Do we need one?” Chrysalis asks plainly. She glances up at him. “We no longer hunger for love. We live and grow. Is that not enough?”

“I don’t think so,” Doug says with a shake of his head. “Because… I think our lives are more about the journey than the destination. As soon as we reach our goal, we need a new one. And the reason for that is, to put it bluntly, because life is suffering. If you don’t eat, you starve. You grow old and die. Well, maybe not you, but your ‘lings. We recognize that innately, in our core. If we don’t have something to strive for, then life becomes meaningless.”

“But we still need to get past the Council.” Chrysalis sighs. “And make them believe we have some goal other than conquest.”

“More importantly,” Doug says, “I think you need some goal other than conquest.”

“You think they will take our word?” Chrysalis spits out. “That the changelings have changed?”

“It won’t be just your word,” Doug reassures as he stands. His hand slips out of her mane as he walks away, a pleading, remorseful look in his eyes at the loss of contact. And yet there is hope. “Ready to go?”

Chrysalis stands, perhaps against her better judgement, and follows.

Queen Chrysalis merely grunts when Doug opens the door for her, striding imperiously into the auditorium. Everycreature appears to be where they were when she left. The griffons staring murderous daggers, the yak’s bland apathy, and the minotaur’s irrepressible cheer all remain unchanged. The red dragon sits pacified, arms grumpily crossed across his chest, but there is no hostility she can detect. Unlike the Storm King.

Raikou reclines in his chair next to Tempest Shadow, impassively watching the changeling walk to Celestia and the stage. The broken-horned unicorn has her ever-present look of mild disdain, harboring animosity directed at the alicorns. But the Storm King? Inwardly he shifts between abject loathing and guarded respect, like he bent the bar of emotions into a ponyshoe and dances between the two extremes.

It is rare, extremely so, for her to find a creature in such a state. It might even be some sort of magic item, crafted to throw off her senses by overloading her receptors. She wouldn’t put it past him, they did have a bit of a history together. And the whole of Klugetown holds a bit of that grudge, an anti-changeling bent about them, likely only made worse by her subsequent actions.

Doug peels off to rejoin the ponies, sitting next to Luna and the vacancy left by Celestia. The cobalt alicorn merely sighs, accepting the hand across her with a muted grumble. Yet it doesn’t take long for her to acquiesce to his gentle ministrations, affording him a cool but not cold smile before her gaze returns to her Sister.

If Celestia is bothered by potentially being on the chopping block she doesn’t show it, nestling in ponyloaf. Her warm smile broadens as she spots Doug and Chrysalis approaching, and eventually Chrysalis’ unhurried steps bring her to the white alicorn’s side. The auditorium has gone silent, only Rainbow Dash’s bored groans breaking the apprehensive atmosphere.

Celestia regards her with a slight incline of her head and whispered words. “It is good to see you.” The corners of her mouth pull a little higher. “We were worried about you.”

“About me?” Chrysalis asks, taken aback. She expected something closer to ‘we were worried about your return’. Is she that predictable, or does Celestia actually harbor that much confidence?

“Indeed.” Celestia glances at Alira. “May I return?” She stands as the Saddle Arabian mare nods, a swift trot taking Celestia to Doug’s side. His arm reaches behind, wrapping not around her withers but under her slightly raised wing so his hand might massage her still-svelte belly. She inches closer, pressing against him, and the happy human nearly disappears behind her flowing mane.

Alira turns to Chrysalis, formally addressing her. “Delegate Gruff had finished with his remarks, and you were replying to him. Was there anything else you wish to say?”

“I wish to say a lot more,” Chrysalis grunts out as she peels her eyes away from the affectionate sight. “But enough has been said. For now.”

“Very well. Then we shall hear from…” Alira glances down at her notes on the podium. “Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”

All eyes turn as the pink alicorn gives her husband a tender nuzzle. “Thank you, Alira,” Cadance says chipperly as she bounds to the stage.

Chrysalis finds herself backing up from the exuberant energy. She has to stifle the old, rapacious part of her that wishes to partake, the hoarder always looking to the future. She doesn’t need to devour love, but she still can, which makes it all the worse if she can’t blame any lapse on that primal instinct.

Cadance’s gaze sweeps across the room, briefly locking on every creature before moving to the next. Each can feel the warmth of her smile, though the reactions range from the ponies perking up and watching intently to the griffons’ sulks and scowls. Chrysalis finds herself drawn in, following that warmth like the wafting scent of a pie on the Apple’s windowsill. As soon as she recognizes this she stops, chastising herself for her lack of control.

“Though,” Cadance stalls, tapping a gold-shod hoof against the floor, “I find ‘Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’ to be a bit too formal. Good for weddings, but not much else.” She winks at Shining Armor, then Chrysalis, but it’s a tad forced in the second case. “I much prefer Cadance, or Princess Cadance if you insist and your name is Twilight. Which reminds me.”

The pink alicorn, bucking all decorum through the window like Applejack with a bale of hay, skips from two hooves to the other in their cherished foalhood dance. “Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!”

A blushing Twilight Sparkle mirrors the actions, and when the two drop to their barrels and cover their eyes she teleports forward. A grinning pair meet hoof to hoof before shaking their rumps and pressing cutie marks against each other. The two share a fond nuzzle before a joyous Twilight canters back to her seat. She rolls her eyes at her brother with his hoof stuffed in his mouth, who can’t stop staring at Cadance and rocking back and forth.

“Or,” Cadance continues, giving her husband a sultry shake of her flanks, which only gets him to choke up harder, “if you want to be formal, the Princess of Love.” Her sweeping gaze returns to the rest of the audience. “Now, one might ask. What is love? It is a topic that has spawned more books, more poems, more sleepless nights than any other.”

She points at Twilight. “Is love the affection we share with our kin? The love of a dam for her filly, a teacher for her student? Expressed through small and meaningful gifts, encouraging and inspiring words, and soft and gentle nuzzles? Perhaps. But there is a deeper kind of love.”

Cadance locates a few of the males in the audience: Gruff, the Storm King, and Iron Grip, her focus dancing between the three until she has their full attention. She spins so her luscious pink, purple and gold tail faces them, glancing back across spread wings with a heated moan. Her forelegs sink lower as her rump raises, tail flicking almost enough to expose herself, but not quite.

“Mm, that’s what you are thinking about, right?” She licks her lips as Iron Grip and the Storm King chuckle and nod, while Gruff just stares at her. And just as quickly her flirtatious display is over, standing straight and striding from one end of the stage to the other. “But sex is not love! It may be a biological imperative, it may be a deep form of intimacy, it may be a truly wonderful experience-”

Cadance stops, dead in her tracks, to take a deep breath. Her eyes close, her head lifts, and wings spread from her sides, evoking in everycreature’s mind the joy she shared that night with Shining Armor. She stands there, she and everycreature else, reveling in the smell of his musk, the weight on her back, the fullness and completeness she felt that special night.

She recovers slowly, shaking her head to dispel the images from her own and everycreature’s mind. “It may be all those things. But it is not the deepest form of love. For I am not the Princess of Love because I slept with somestallion. I am not the Princess of Sex, much as my husband might disagree.”

Laughter peppers the audience as Shining Armor concedes the point with a forced smile, nodding along with his mare.

Cadance turns, acknowledging the changeling with a point of her hoof. “And Queen Chrysalis did not transform into the resplendent form you see before you because it was the first time she mated with a stallion, nor the tenth, nor the ten thousandth!”

Chrysalis preens at the compliment, her emerald wings fluttering as she flips one of her cobalt braids. That may be the number of young she has born over the years, but it is nowhere close to the number of times she has mated with stallions or mares, to say nothing of other species.

Cadance continues, her words intensely stressed and passionate. “I became an alicorn, I ascended and became the Princess of Love, when I confronted the evil sorceress Prismia who used a powerful necklace to drain my fellow ponies of their love. When I, a simple pegasus from a backwoods earth pony village, put my life on the line in the defense of my people.”

A twinkle shines in Cadance’s eye. “Some might say it was the powerful magic, the love stored in that necklace and released when I broke it, that allowed me to ascend. I hardly think I am unique in that regard, for how many of us know creatures who have done the same? Though I certainly wouldn’t recommend breaking powerful magical artifacts with the hopes of duplicating that event, and I am glad I do not need to worry about a certain three youngsters following in my hoofsteps. Hopefully.” She casts a foreboding eye at the Apple herd. “You don’t know of any, do you?”

Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash exchange breathy sighs of relief as they shake their heads, Applejack going so far as to pull her hat off her head and wipe some imaginary sweat off her brow.

Doug just has to speak up. “Well, there’s that cutie mark wall at Starlight’s village, and Trixie has-”

He cuts off with a strangled ‘urk’ as a cornflower blue aura surrounds his mouth, courtesy of Rarity, while Rainbow Dash swoops around to put him in a headlock. Applejack whips out her lasso, looking ready to hogtie and sit on him.

“Partner,” his lead mare cautions with a deadly glint, “we don’t need to be givin’ those three any ideas, no ma’am.”

Doug unhappily grunts, especially as Rainbow Dash leans her weight on him. Only for the pegasus to squawk in alarm as he gets a hand under her barrel and tickles her sensitive belly. Cadance chuckles before turning back to the rest of the auditorium, Doug and Rainbow Dash quieting down and paying close attention.

“Some of you might see a parallel between Prismia and my herdsister.” Cadance indicates Chrysalis with a slight nod of her head. “But while I was initially… cautious of her intentions? Perhaps even distrustful? I am glad to say that I was proven wrong. Because Queen Chrysalis did not transform when she partook of our love. She and the rest of her brood transformed when they gave love! They demonstrated their love when they put their lives on the line for not just us Princesses but for everymare, everystallion, everypony in Equestria!”

Her voice raises again, filling the auditorium with ease. “For that is the true essence of Love! Sacrifice!” Her voice booms, “For greater love hath no mare than this, that she lay down her life for her friends!”

She lets the following silence linger.

She points a hoof, starting at Gruff before sweeping to the rest of the auditorium. “Earlier this morning, you all saw my husband put his life on the line defending his mare! And as the changelings have done no less for us, I promise you this. You will see no less from everystallion and everymare in the defense of their herd and their Friends!”

She scans the audience once more, searching for dissent and finding none. She nods, swiftly trots back to her exultant husband and leaves a stunned Chrysalis on the stage.

Chrysalis stares at the pink, purple and gold tail as it retreats off the stage amid a bevy of ferocious stomps and booming claps, not all of which come from the Equestrian division. Disquiet stirs in her heart, a pang of regret. It couldn’t be from indigestion or heartburn, she’s never had that problem, even with a large meal. No, it is directed at her hasty action earlier. It made her seem, well, grubbish, no more than a newly hatched larva, thoughts reaching no further than her immediate survival.

She had no idea any of the Princesses, much less Cadance, would have defended her and her brood in such a direct and unequivocal manner. And certainly not so provocatively, a way that practically invites the other creatures, especially the griffons, to test the limits of the ponies’ resolve. She thought her lead mare harbored as much animosity for her as Tempest Shadow clearly shows the four alicorns. Perhaps she was wrong earlier.

And yet she can sense duplicity in the alicorn’s fiery facade, the stalwart bulwark she placed in front of Chrysalis. And that sense is only confirmed when Cadance reaches Shining Armor, trading a tender kiss before nestling her head under his. She can barely make out the words through the din of continued cheers.

“You did a great job up there,” Shining Armor commends, scratching his face against her long horn. He smiles as he nuzzles her closely. “I really like seeing that passionate side of yours.” He stretches so she can see his wink. “When do I get to see that side again?”

“Oh, you,” Cadance teases, clearly loving the way he drapes his head across her neck and mane. But then she sighs, meets Chrysalis’ staring eyes and whispers, a whisper that reaches across the distance and to no others. “I only wish I believed it as strongly as I made it out to be.”

“Hey.” Shining Armor doubles his efforts to console his mare as Chrysalis grimly purses her lips. “That’s something we can work on, right?”

“Mm,” Cadance mutters, dropping down until her head rests against her hooves. Shining Armor follows, worried but content to rest against her until she is ready.

Alira returns to the podium, a hush spreading over the auditorium. “We have heard from the Princess of Love. Next, Iron Grip of Minos.” She hurriedly retreats off the stage, joining Haakim.

And she retreats for good reason. If Cadance owned the stage by pacing back and forth, the massive minotaur looks ready to dominate it purely by standing still and flexing. Each of the trunks most might call arms bulge with muscles, forearms wider than a pony’s barrel, hands that might crush a skull like a sparrow’s egg. And while his brother Iron Will must have skipped leg day to work on his assertiveness seminars, Iron Grip clearly hasn’t, rippling calf-sized calves thudding against the floor with every step. But atop that formidable form is a gregarious smile which he turns at Cadance as soon as he leaps onto the stage, sending the entire room shuddering.

“Excellent speech!” the minotaur booms, lauding the pink Princess with three more meaty claps and a toothy smile. “The passion! The love!” He shadow boxes several swift strikes, fists snapping the air like a whip. “If Iron Grip could be as assertive as a dynamo like you, then heifers would flock to his side! Even though it is hard to get to Iron Grip, because Iron Grip lives inside of a giant maze! But they would try!”

Visible gusts of wind burst through the auditorium from his last shout, blowing manes and tails wildly.

“Ooh,” Twilight Sparkle moans to nopony in particular, having been scratching down notes the entire time. Her glowing horn gives her a chance of keeping them all in order. “Do minotaurs actually live in mazes? I thought that was just a cultural stereotype!”

“They would try,” Iron Grip repeats, flexing his arms and stomach. “Heifers big and small, piebald and plain, young and old! Wait, not old. Iron Grip not interested in old heifer! Something wrong with cow that has no calf after many years!”

He holds a bicep flex for several long seconds, expecting applause or at least something instead of an awkward silence. He looks around the audience, ending on the Princesses. They stare back, Luna’s unrestrained glare intensifying while Celestia leans her head against Doug’s.

One of the two goats bleats something unintelligible.

“Oh! Right! Thank you, Shackle!” The minotaur turns his stare into a thumbs up and wide grin. “Iron Grip glad ancient Princesses find love after many, many years!”

Luna growls while Celestia’s smile grows a little more strained.

“I think,” Rarity quietly comments to Applejack as she fixes her mane, “he might have taken a few too many blows to the head.”

“Full-fledged bucks, more like it,” Applejack returns.

“He’s wonderful,” Fluttershy moans out, enraptured by Iron Grip’s over-the-top performance.

“And Iron Grip glad changelings find love, too!” Two beefy arms, one above the head and the other stretched straight, point at Queen Chrysalis. “Which brings Iron Grip to the first of Iron Grip’s two points!”

He holds the pose for an uncomfortably long amount of time before the other goat bleats something.

“Right! Thank you, Billy!” Iron Grip pulls out a chewed-up book from somewhere, the ragged condition getting Twilight to gasp. He flips through, a few pages falling out. His already beady eyes constrict into pinpricks as he studiously studies the page. “Ah ha!” He throws the book to the floor, again pointing at Chrysalis as Twilight faints. “When the City of Trot tried to block with a wall, you proved you are one they cannot stall!!”

Chrysalis holds her neutral expression, inwardly grimacing. She didn’t think the minotaur was capable of setting a trap like this, but the glint in his eyes proves it was no mistake. If she accepts the praise, she acknowledges that she is a menace. But she can’t deny it; the history book in his hand accurately depicts her actions. What was Doug saying about reframing?

Iron Grip reaches down, delicately picks up the book and reads in a low, quick voice, “By hiding inside a Trotan Pony, you bypassed their considerable defenses.” He spins, pointing at one of the ponies from the Realm of Clouds, the mountainous area near Klugetown and outside of Equestria. “And thanks to Princess Celestia’s timely arrival, the city was saved! Though Emperor Incitatus was never the same.”

“A good thing, too,” Chrysalis adds. Iron Grip steps to the side, tucking the book away and giving her plenty of room to dig. She continues with a wry, fangy smile. “Your Emperor cared only for himself and nothing for his people, outside of how they could elevate him. His delicious pride was his downfall, and your city has only improved since.”

Iron Grip glowers briefly, only for a shout to come from the back.

“And what of the cities that never recovered?” Tempest Shadow bellows. “What of Timbuktu! What of the ponies whose lives and livelihoods you have devoured!?”

“Indeed!” Iron Grip agrees, pounding one hand into the other. It makes a dull, echoing *thud* that Chrysalis imagines would knock even an earth pony senseless. “Changeling people may have found love! But this does not excuse their many crimes!”

“I must remind the Council,” Celestia begins, bringing the room to a standstill. Her voice is not raised, nor whispered, yet carries as if she is standing next to every individual. “That we have forgiven crimes of nations and individuals. I will not name names or numbers. But know that there are those, even among us now, that have caused worse, and threatened worse, than the accused standing before us.”

At first, eyes are directed at the griffons. Even Delegate Gruff has the good sense to hunker down, a contrite and almost pleading look in his eye. For it had been a mere generation ago that ponies were hunted in Griffon lands, and only those strong enough to defend themselves dared venture.

Then focus turns to the dragons, who delight in razing villages and sometimes more. Tensions grow hot when the shortest route of their generational migration takes them through Equestrian lands, the mountains of the west and north their ancestral destination. It takes a strong Dragon Lord to restrain the hundreds of vicious predators, and even a crack team of Wonderbolts could do little against a dozen hungry dragons that spot a multicolored meal far below. And now, with Dragon Lord Torch - one of the staunchest allies of Equestria the dragons have ever fielded - retiring? The clutch looking to contest his place holds little respect for the ponies.

And then they turn to Luna, yet ignorant of her being the true target of Celestia’s words. For none but the alicorn sisters know the full extent of her treachery. And while some might laugh about ‘never seeing the sun’, very few understand how far her desperation for adoration and devotion would have taken her.

“And they have been forgiven,” Celestia continues, drawing every eye back to herself. “The slate wiped clean and welcomed with open hooves. They repented, honestly and truly, and strove to adhere to what we hold most dear.”

She indicates Cadance with a nod of her head, the pink alicorn hugging her husband as they both stand. “Love.”

Twilight drops her quill as her five closest friends gather together, Doug standing in for Pinkie Pie, beaming as Celestia motions at them next. “Friendship, and the Elements of Harmony.”

Celestia’s gaze turns to Luna. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out, no words capable of expressing the love they share. Tears wet the corners of her eyes, shimmering as they fall to the floor. She lunges forward, embracing her Sister in a deep, longing hug. She manages to choke out a single word. “Spike?”

Spike freezes as everycreature turns to him. The room is silent, none even daring to draw breath. Yet something in the back of his mind bubbles forth, words dredging from some unknown place that just feel right. He sings; a soft, high pitched, childish voice, yet one that reaches into everycreature.

“~But if day can turn to night? And the darkness turn to light? Then why can’t we imagine? A changeling can change?~”

His words settle into silence, leaving the changeling queen alone on the stage.

She can see, in her mind’s eye, the crossroads in front of her. One way, the way that loops back to where she came, is bright if barren. Ground she has trod many a time before, but she knows how little it sustains. The other way is dark, a dense jungle full of brambles and shade that hides the predators within. There is opportunity there, but also danger.

If she goes down this new path? It would be difficult, difficult beyond imagining. There could be no half-measures. She would need to commit body and spirit, and not just her own but her brood’s as well. Like Cadance, she would need to display a confidence that she did not yet possess. But it would not be a lie; no, she would be presenting the ideal she would pursue, a goal that she would strive for but might never attain.

“Everything I did,” Chrysalis states solemnly, her steady gaze sweeping across the room. “Everything the changeling race has done, we did for our survival. We tried everything we could think of. From kittens and puppies to raising ponies as our own. But ponies require actualization to provide nourishment, something not present in lesser animals. We tried individual infiltration and indiscriminate invasion. Yet every time we were found out, our plots uncovered, we were castigated as monsters. And despair, while potentially nourishing, is not a viable long-term solution.”

She pauses, taking a deep breath and stares at the floor.

“I take it all as my own. Every failure, every foiled attempt, every fault. It is no excuse, and I cannot take back my actions. But now I see that there is a better way. The way of friendship and love. The way of the Tenets of Harmony.” Each pony perks their head up as she names their Element. “Of truth, generosity, loyalty, kindness, and laughter. And anything that stands in that way I will cast aside.”

An emerald-shod hoof raises to her head, pulling the blackened crown from her mane. She studies the small blue gems for a long moment. It feels strange, to no longer have the weight on her head. But as much as it meant to her before, this is more important now.

“This used to be the crown of King Orion of Timbuktu,” she explains, remorse filling her words. “I took it as a prize when I destroyed his city. I thought it would be a glorious reminder of our strength. I could have taken many others, for my misdeeds are as numerous as the stars we scattered above.” Her head bows penitently. “But I was wrong. And as I cast aside this crown, I cast aside my title of ‘Queen’.”

Chrysalis tosses the crown to the stage. It digs a divot into the wood, clattering and rolling onto the floor. She ignores it.

Murmurs erupt in the audience, glances trading back and forth. Most cannot believe what they just saw, or wonder if it merely another ruse, or calculate just how much they can trust this ‘transformation’.

“For a queen takes pride in what she rules.” Chrysalis shakes her head at the futility. “But I shall take pride in what I create, in what I build. For I shall henceforth be known as Chief Architect Chrysalis!”

An ebony hoof raises, prompting a cheer from the ponies. But Chrysalis’ grand stance is short-lived, replaced by a meek and hopeful smile she directs to the other creatures.

“But all that depends on having the chance to prove ourselves.” Chrysalis drops to a low, respectful bow. It seems unbecoming, but that is because it is, a humility on display she has never tried before. “Please, I beg of you. Do not cut this journey short, just as it begins.”

She holds the uncomfortable pose for long moments, long enough for Alira to clear her throat as she walks to the podium. “If there is nothing else?”

The minotaur shakes his head. “Iron Grip’s second point was to ask what she wishes to do. Iron Grip has answer to Iron Grip’s question.” With that he returns to his seat. Nocreature else does anything but watch the changeling hold her subservient bow.

“Very well. We shall vote on the fate of… Chief Architect Chrysalis.” Alira jots a quick note before looking at Raikou. “How votes the Storm Realm?”

The Storm King ponders for a long moment, his hand brushing his bristly chin. “The Storm Realm votes yes. To live.”

Tempest Shadow snorts, her angry glare at her king unmistakable.

“What?” Raikou retorts. “I’m all about second chances!” He jabs a finger at her. “You should know that.”

“Yes, my liege,” Tempest Shadow dutifully answers, her heart clearly not in her reply.

Alira turns to Garble. “And the Dragons?”

“All this talk about friendship and love?” The red dragon shakes his head, gagging. The teal dragon next to him nods in agreement. “I don’t buy it. Especially not from her. The Dragons vote no.”

Chrysalis drops a little more. She had been expecting that, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept that she is one step closer to the edge.

Alira marks on her sheet. “The Yaks?”

Prince Rutherford shakes his head as he gets up. “Yak not have history with changelings. Ponies do what they want. Yak abstain.” He settles back down, and with his thick hair it is impossible to tell if he is pleased with the proceedings or not.

“Oh, no,” Twilight whispers, mirroring Chrysalis’ uneasy gulp. “If the vote is tied, the tiebreakers are the permanent members. Equestria takes precedence, but they didn’t vote, so it passes to…” She turns a fearful eye at Garble. “The Dragons.”

Alira continues. “Minos?”

Iron Grip cracks his neck, then his knuckles, then his back. “If Iron Will can get ponies to be more assertive, like minotaurs, then Iron Grip sees no reason that ponies cannot get changelings to act like friends. Iron Grip votes yes.”

Alira makes another note. “The Griffons?”

A low cackle accompanies the unnerving clink of claws tapping against each other. Everycreature holds their breath as Delegate Gruff stands, and if a beak could smile his would stretch from ear to ear.

“I have waited for this,” he chortles wickedly, raking a talon across the floor. It sends shivers along spines, and one can imagine the many animals he has sliced open in such a manner.

“But,” Gruff says as he pauses, cocking his head as he inspects the contrite changeling. His one good eye gleams with greed. “One cannot get much out of a corpse. A meal or two. Ten in your case. But not much.” He eyes her, avarice plain, his claws reaching out and grasping.

“If that is what it takes,” Chrysalis answers, despising that she has to purchase her freedom but thankful for the opportunity regardless. “Then we shall help build Griffonstone into a gleaming beacon, a testament to the griffons!”

The former queen raises her head, awaiting her verdict with some measure of honor.

One can almost hear the sound of bits clanging together in the griffon’s covetous expression. “Then the Griffons vote yes.”

“Chief Architect Chrysalis,” Alira states formally, quelling the growing rumbles among the crowd, “your decision has been reached. You will be remanded as an Equestrian citizen, as will your brood. The full details will be provided at a later time, including negotiating what service you will provide to the Griffons. In the meantime, we will reconvene after lunch for…” she glances down at her notes, then gulps. “A potentially world-shattering… discussion.”

Chrysalis can merely stare as the griffon takes his seat. She only registers something is amiss when a white blur attempts to tackle her and fails, bouncing back and falling on his rump. She glances over, still dumbfounded, at her stallion as he rubs his head. The ponies behind him cheer and stomp their hooves, but everything sounds distorted and unreal. They all pass in a colorful blur, spinning around and around, blending into each other as they surround and congratulate until the world turns a merciful and quiet black.

“Good show!” the Storm King exclaims, cheering with a few thunks of staff against floor. “Marvelous! Now, I believe I have a party to get to! That pizza won’t eat itself!”

He gives a cheeky grin and cocky salute before vaulting over his seat and out the door. Tempest Shadow follows close behind, still indignant about the turn of events. Garble bickers with Gruff, mostly about how unfair it is the dragons weren’t able to extort the Equestrians while the griffons were, as the two delegates leave with their fellows. The rest of the creatures trickle out in twos and threes, off to send home messages about what occurred or just relax before the next meeting.

Sky Beak waits at the door and stares at Doug long enough for the human to recognize it. He then turns and walks out without a backwards glance, leaving Doug grim and wondering how to get Celestia away from the pack of ponies hugging the downed changeling.

As it turns out, a tap on the withers is all it takes. A curious Celestia follows Doug to a more isolated area of the auditorium, not that they are hiding anything - it’s just quieter, not having to listen to Fluttershy fuss over Chrysalis, or Applejack and Rainbow Dash debate the easiest method of moving such a large mass, or Twilight Sparkle twilighting about the next issue concerning the alicorns.

“Yes, my love?” Celestia asks as they come to a stop, concerned but not uneasy.

Doug wants to cross his arms but doesn’t, keeping his hands clasped at his waist. “How much do you know about the hippogriffs?”

“I know a great deal about the hippogriffs, and at the same time not enough,” Celestia answers, regarding Doug closely and noting his apprehension. “I take it you are not looking for facts found in the Encyclopedia Equitannica?”

“Correct,” Doug replies brusquely. “More your reasoning behind, let’s say, how they got to their current situation.”

“Hmm.” Celestia stares off into the distance for a long moment, focusing on nothing.

Back on the stage, a groggy Chrysalis slowly comes to.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Shining Armor greets Chrysalis as she awakens. “Feeling better?”

“Urgh,” Chrysalis moans, rubbing at her head with an emerald-clad hoof. “I didn’t change color, did I?” A fangy grin spreads as she sees her ebony chitin, brushing off her stallion’s help to get to her hooves. “White is just so…” She frowns at Rarity’s venomous glare. “Overdone?”

That prompts a chuckle from the fashionista. “You will find no argument from me there, darling. Though it does tend to go with everything.”

“I thought that was black,” Chrysalis retorts, admiring her coloration. Luna enthusiastically nods along.

“Oh, yes,” Rarity agrees. She winks at Luna. “Black and white do go very well together.”

“Oh, please,” Rainbow Dash butts in. “Next you’ll tell me that zebras are the height of fashion.”

“Or skunks,” Fluttershy adds. She beams as everypony edges away from her. “They’re really cuddly, and always looking for a hug!”

“Ah like polka dots and plaid,” Applejack says. “Especially together!” She sighs as Rarity covers her face with a hoof. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Shining Armor entreats, flicking his mane at the eldest alicorn. “It’s story time!”

“I love story time!” Twilight exclaims, giddily clapping her hooves together. “Oh, come on,” she says defensively as the others chuckle. “You all love story time too!”

Celestia snaps back to reality as her Sister approaches, acknowledging her with a curt nod. The rest of the ponies, curious as well, gather and sit in a loose semicircle. A translucent golden bubble surrounds them, filling their ears with a soft hiss.

“You were asking about the hippogriffs,” Celestia begins in a matter-of-fact lecturing tone. Behind it, partially concealed, is mild disdain. “Historically, the hippogriffs have been neither our staunchest allies nor our bitterest enemies. That would be the Crystal Empire under the rule of Princess Amore, before Sombra’s rise of power, and the dragons of six centuries ago, respectively.”

“The d-dragons?” Spike stammers, glancing at Twilight as she nuzzles him. The action doesn’t stop her from taking notes. “You don’t think they might… attack, do you?”

Celestia shakes her head. “Not under Dragon Lord Torch, not unless we provoke him directly. We ancients still have some modicum of respect for each other. Of their new crop?” She sighs remorsefully. “I cannot say for sure. I fear I have kept my eyes focused inward, on ensuring that threats to Equestria were… minimized.”

“Then how,” Chrysalis asks, ignoring the grumbles from the ponies at interrupting, “was I able to infiltrate so far and wide?”

Celestia regards the changeling with a grim stare. “To be honest,” she says with a deep sigh. “You escaped my notice by slipping beneath my notice. I wrongly anticipated that you would attempt to replace high-ranking officials and nobles. I did not have the resources to pursue why, say, in nine-ninety-three there were forty-six ponies emigrating from Trottingham to greener pastures, yet forty-eight arrived.”

“Ah,” Chrysalis says. A thin smile spreads. “You investigated and found the cracks afterwards.”

Celestia nods. “And once you had infiltrators in the proper positions, even those discrepancies disappeared. My reports, the thousand reports I sift through every day, inaccurately depicted the situation, leaving me blind or worse.” She waves a hoof, stifling Chrysalis’ opening mouth. “I do not condemn you for your actions. It was a brilliant bit of misdirection; had I thought to, I might have done the same.”

Chrysalis sits back, preening. The other ponies sit unsure, wanting to glare at the changeling but not with Celestia admitting that she would have acted similarly.

Celestia turns back to Doug, redness seeping into her eyes. “You can see, I am sure, the difficulty inherent in managing such a complex and interconnected situation. How much worse would it be if I considered everycreature else? And how would I know what is going on, since they are not required to send reports to my desk?” She whips a hoof to point at Chrysalis. “Should I conscript our four thousand newly hatched infiltrators and send them to every corner of Equus?”

“Hey!” Chrysalis says, only for her objection to be cast to the side.

“Or should I have become a Queen?” The multicolor glow of Celestia’s mane fades to a monochrome orange, flames of red licking behind blackened pupils. She stands tall, seemingly towering to the vaulted ceiling, glowing like the sun and leaving all else bathed in searing light. She laughs, a bright and piercing sound that spreads like wildfire. “Not dark, but as blazing and illuminating as the sun!”

And in the next moment the oranges and reds saturating the room fade to normal. The alabaster alicorn returns to her normal coloration as limbs the ponies didn’t know were locked loosen. She sighs, heavy and mournful.

“You ask what I might have done. But you do not ask what it would require for me to do it.” Celestia offers the changeling a soft smile. “But I do not have perfect knowledge, nor the ability to interfere without unanticipated consequence.” She seems to diminish as her fury leaves her body. “Perhaps it is not a failing to be neither omniscient nor omnipotent. Is it wrong to have that as one’s goal? For it is Raikou’s as well.” She indicates Twilight. “And what student does not seek to surpass her teacher?”

“I would never-” Twilight starts before a raised alabaster hoof silences her.

“Do not lie so readily, my most faithful student,” Celestia chastises. “Or if what you spoke was true, then as your mentor I have failed to kindle your aspirations.” She bows her head. “And for that, I am truly sorry.”

“You didn’t,” Twilight says, gulping as she realizes her error. Her head matches Celestia’s in a contrite bow. “I will strive, to the best of my ability, to excel in every way I can.”

“That’s the Twilight I know and love,” Celestia says, raising her head with a smile. She turns back to Doug. “Do you wish to second-guess my actions?”

Doug grimaces. “Well, before you told Twilight off for a harmless lie, I might have said no.”

“No lie is harmless,” Celestia counters quickly, no malice in her correction.

“My point is,” Doug says with a huff, though he acknowledges her point with a wave of his hand, “that nopony, nocreature, is perfect. Sometimes we make mistakes, and we reevaluate decisions we made to try to detect those mistakes. We look for gaps in our logic, or places we should investigate more thoroughly. I think that you may have made a mistake with how the hippogriffs were treated. I’m not sure, of course.” He pauses to look her in the eye. “So I’ll ask again. Or perhaps more specifically. Why did you allow the Storm King to invade Mount Aris, and what have you done to check his ambitions?”

A wry smile crosses Celestia’s muzzle. “Thank you for not asserting that I have done nothing. But to answer that I must ask two things. What are the Storm King’s ambitions?”

Doug frowns. “Well, you said that he wants power. To become the most powerful creature, I assume.”

“And?” Celestia prompts.

Doug scratches at his chin. “He’s willing to conquer places to get that power.”

“Is that wrong?” Celestia asks, tilting her head to the side. “Must the borders of the map remain unchanged in perpetuity?”

“All these questions!” Doug grins at Celestia. “If I didn’t like the Socratic method so much, I might be more perturbed at you evading the question.” He winks at her, earning a quick incline of her head. “But I believe there can be a thing as a ‘just war’, or revolutions, or even expansion into uncharted realms. But for an individual to gain power, not merely influence?” Doug glances at Celestia. “He’s not magical like you, so he has to train his body and gather or steal magical artifacts to make up that difference.”

“Indeed,” Celestia agrees. “Though he seems to have little interest in ruling; he has installed vassals in the smaller towns along the southern coast and seems more than happy to have the Council choose replacements for the places he topples. No, he ensures that others acknowledge his superiority.”

“Is that what happened with Mount Aris?” Doug demands. “He was just proving his superiority to the hippogriffs?”

“Perhaps,” Celestia concedes. “It was no secret that he desired the Seasky Pearl. How much of his allegations of piracy are true? I have already professed my ignorance of the situation, and perhaps that is something that should change. The question then becomes ‘how shall we do that?’ Should we turn the Storm King to stone and shatter him, and reignite the volcanoes of the Storm Realm? That would solve the problem of not knowing their intentions.”

“Um,” Doug says, shifting nervously. “That seems extreme.”

Celestia merely regards him more intently. “But how do we know the hippogriffs are blameless?” She taps a hoof against her muzzle. “Should we boil the oceans in case they are not?”

“P-please stop,” Fluttershy begs between sobs from behind her mane.

Celestia drops her head as Applejack rubs a comforting hoof along the yellow pegasus’ back. “I am sorry, dearest Fluttershy. I would only recommend those actions were I to believe the individuals in question were irredeemable. And, judging by your reactions, you do not believe such. So the answer must lie between nothing and genocide.” She motions upward. “Do you believe we should mobilize our troops and smash the Storm King’s armada?”

“If he was attacking somewhere,” Doug answers. After a moment he adds, “Unjustly.”

“Ah, you strike at the heart of the matter,” Celestia says, a hint of a grin perking up the corners of her mouth. “For we must determine if a cause is just or not.”

“If we don’t know enough,” Doug continues. “We need to find more information.”

“Precisely. For example, there has always been a faction of the hippogriffs that prefer the sea, the aptly named Sea Ponies. Others wish to once again live above the waves. As you can no doubt guess, Sky Beak is a leading member of that group.” Once again, Celestia drops her head and sighs. “I am not sure the relative extent of the two groups, as their politics is as murky as the depths under which they live. But I believe Sky Beak to be part of a minority, perhaps a plurality, but not enough to sway their queen.”

“So we would need proof of the Storm King’s atrocities,” Doug says, nodding to himself. Celestia’s smile widens. He stands, rolling his shoulders and flexing his arms. “Well, I have felt cooped up in here. Anypony fancy a run through the city?”

“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy says anxiously, rubbing one hoof against the other. She looks pleadingly at Celestia. “We don’t have to, do we?”

Celestia returns a warm smile. Next to her Luna looks ready to nod off. “You may stay with us, if you wish. I do believe we could use the rest.”

Everypony else leaps to their hooves, eager to get outside.

The city of Klugetown greets the ponies with a perpetual dull haze, dust in their eyes, and an acrid taste in their mouths, but the irritants do little to quell their enthusiasm. They stand, gawking at the high-rising shops and apartments built into towering spires of sandstone. The layout is far different from Ponyville, certainly, but even Manehattanites value an occasional view of the sky. From the air it didn’t seem as intimidating, but now that they aren’t dancing down the street with some destination in mind?

Three streets, paved with hard-packed sand and harder-packed citizens, branch away from the Equestrian Embassy. The most crowded leads south to the docks full of boats and airships. Shopkeepers hawk their wares along that route, several of whom display caged feral hawks or bright, flowing fabrics to wear. Everypony is glad Fluttershy isn’t around to see the former. The latter draws Rarity’s attention, and she makes the first move. She weaves her way through the heavy foot traffic, jostled to and fro by the larger creatures considerably less considerate than the ponies of Ponyville, and arrives at the open stall.

The rotund shopkeeper, like many of the other creatures, stands twice as tall as her and three times as wide. His clothes are far fancier than the other’s dirty brown tunics, if they wear anything at all. She has to crane her neck up to look him in the eye, and she would have to stand on her hind legs to see over the counter.

“Excuse me, good…” Rarity pauses, deliberating how to greet the bidepal… Her first instinct is to call it a fish-monster, a miniature leviathan that decided to walk on land, but as appropriate as the appellation might be? Offending the very first native she meets doesn’t sound like the way to endear oneself. She settles on, “Sir. I can’t help but notice your beautiful selection of goods. Is that wool?”

He snorts with something between a sneer and a smile, ignoring her compliment, and waves a webbed claw at his wares. The fabrics are nearly as colorful as the ponies coming up behind Rarity, tightly woven with intricate geometric diamond designs. “Alpaca. Softer than sheep, and quite warm!”

“But we’re in the middle of a desert,” Applejack asserts as she sidles next to Rarity. “Why can’t ya find somethin’ more practical-like?” She looks down the rows of stalls. A vulture-esque creature leers down from rows of horns of every shape and size, an upright turtle drags barrels of a foamy brown liquid, a tall Abyssinian runs some sort of shell game on a small table, and a naked mole rat sells various cooking pans and knives. She gasps at the last one, pointing with one hoof while the other wraps around Rarity’s neck to direct her attention. “Like over there!”

“Alpaca is best for airships and mountains,” the merchant concedes before Applejack can pull Rarity away. “But if you’re looking for desert wear, then look no further than this!” His keen eye sizes up Rarity from front to flank, and he pulls out an off-white set of barding, made to cover the entirety of a pony, complete with turban. “Saddle Arabian cotton, guaranteed to keep you cool during the hottest of days!” He glances at the ponies behind her, smile widening at seeing the two alicorns. “I could have a dozen made by the end of the day, custom fitted for wings and horn! For, say, a hundred Storm Bucks each?”

“Shopping?” Doug groans as he backs up, only to be knocked from behind by a short, long-tusked warthog. She growls at him before adjusting the large jar on her back and continues on her way as he stumbles forward. He dusts himself off with a huff before turning back to Rarity. “There’s no way I’m spending the rest of my morning shopping. Much less window shopping.”

While the shopkeeper’s smile doesn’t fade at Doug’s comment, he stiffens when he sees the changeling standing next to him. She remains remarkably unbumped despite standing in the middle of the road.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Rarity chastises, flipping her mane indignantly. She turns back to the cloth vendor. She pulls a bit out of a bag she keeps somewhere. Everycreature’s head turns at the clink of gold and gems inside. “Now, how many bits to a Storm Buck?”

“Sorry, but we don’t take bits here.” He offers Rarity a fang-filled smile, yet it somehow appears regretful. “Storm King law, you know?” His glances again at Chrysalis, gulping nervously. “It’s ten bits a Storm Buck.”

“You can’t change them here?” Rarity asks with a huff.

He peers down the row of stalls, spotting two stiff-backed Storm Guards. One of them looks at them, grips his spear, and grunts to his partner. The shopkeeper shakes his head.

“I see,” Rarity says, running a hoof along the fabric. A hard look enters her eyes, accompanied by a tight frown. “Now, one hundred bucks for a simple frock? Even Saddle Arabian cotton - if this is, in fact, Saddle Arabian cotton? Forty bucks apiece, and done up in those, those, and those designs.” She points at the patterns ones closest to hers, Cadance’s, and Twilight’s cutie marks.

“Ooh!” Twilight exclaims, eagerly nudging next to Rarity. She starts, “I really like-” before a white hoof forces her back.

“But you are getting far more than just the frock, and I can assure you as to the authenticity of the cotton.” He carefully considers with a greedy smile. “Sixty. One fourth in those patterns, the rest plain.”

“Forty-five,” Rarity counters. “Half plain, half patterned. And I would need…” She counts with taps of hoof against counter, staring up at the hazy sky. “Fourteen. By tonight?”

“Fifty and it’s done.” The merchant reaches a scaly claw forward. “Cash first.”

Rarity shakes her head. “Ah, I’m afraid I do not have enough… Storm Bucks on me. But I will keep that offer in mind. Doug?” Rarity levitates the heavy bag to him, but he doesn’t take it. “Do be a dear and get this changed?” She beams up at him as his hands go to his hips. “Please?”

Doug rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, snatching the bag out of the air. “Fine.”

“Ooh, me too,” Rainbow Dash adds, flying over to give him a small bag of her own. “I wanted to try some of that cider!”

“There ain’t no way it’s close to ours,” Applejack retorts, though she also shoves a bag in Doug’s direction. “But those knives look awful sharp. And a good variety, too!”

“Enough!” Doug says as Cadance also grins at him and offers him a stuffed bag. Many of the pedestrians behind him have stopped walking and mill about, watching closely. “Why don’t you put a giant label on me that says ‘please mug me!’ while you’re at it?”

“Because Pinkie Pie isn’t here?” Rainbow Dash says with a cheeky grin.

Doug huffs before he musses the chromatic mane, drawing a nuzzle and fond smile. He loops the bags around his neck, tucking them inside his armor. “Yeah, yeah. Where am I going, anyway?”

“I believe I can help there,” the Abyssinian smoothly interjects as he slides next to Doug. The human-like cat person stands half a head taller than him, a tuft of blue hair waving almost to his green, shifting eyes. Brown claws flick his ripped red trench coat as his suave smile might charm the cutie mark off a pony. “Capper’s the name, and I can guide you anywhere in this fair city. Just say the word, and I’ll be the friend you need.”

“Excellent.” Doug grimaces at the crowded road. “Any chance you know a less packed route?”

“Oh, sure,” Capper answers with a sly grin. “Backways, alleys, I know this place like the back of my paw. You won’t bump into a single soul the way I’ll take you.”

“Perhaps I might come along,” Chrysalis says with a wary glance at the Storm Guards, now doubled in number and advancing their way. “Make sure you stay safe.”

“Awesome!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, zipping higher into the air as she turns back to the turtle. “Hurry back!”

“This way!” Capper calls as he slips between the cloth merchant and the horn stall. Doug dashes close behind, leaving an irate Chrysalis bumping into the tight spaces they traverse to keep up.

“This is more like it!” Doug exclaims to Chrysalis as they barrel down twisting alleyways and climbing dark staircases. Capper manages to stay out ahead, speeding up every time they nearly catch him. Doug focuses on keeping pace while Chrysalis keeps a wary eye on the shuttered windows above. True to his declaration they don’t run into anyone, though many a creature peeks out from above, especially at the growling racket behind them.

After about ten minutes of running he asks, panting, “Where are we going?”

“We’re almost there,” Capper says as he slows, breathing easily while Doug catches a quick rest. Running in his armor, especially up stairs, takes more out of him than flat jogs. Capper pushes a hanging cloth to the side, exposing a street that looks, in a word, seedy. “Verko’s is two blocks that way.”

Few creatures pass on foot, most dragging or hitched to cage-topped wagons. The cages heading to the various airships parked on the eastern end of the south side of town are all empty, while those coming in are packed to the gills with dull-eyed calves, shorn sheep, and live crustaceans waving bound claws. Unadulterated smells of unwashed flesh and worse assaults them, but it only bothers Doug. He scrubs at his nose, wanting to get away, until he sees a sight far more colorful than the drab browns of the city.

“Hold up. Are those… parrots?” Doug asks.

Or perhaps it isn’t that they are green parrots so much as the female leading her four crate-hauling comrades has the most human-like bust he’s seen, even under her drab, Storm King branded coveralls. They must have heard him, heads turning his way and staring dourly.

“Pirates,” Chrysalis spits out.

Unbeknownst to them, Capper slips away. He whispers to a small naked mole rat, “Psst. Go tell Verko to get ready. That I’m bringing someone who will make my fortune… change.” The mole rat scampers away as Capper returns down the way he came.

“Parrot pirates?” Doug hums to himself as Chrysalis nods. “Wonder what they’re hauling? Stolen goods to fence?”

Chrysalis inspects one of the crates from a distance. “Storm King merchandise.” He looks intrigued and she flashes him a fangy smile. “Why, am I no longer your favorite dictator to support?”

“Something like that,” Doug answers with a wink. He approaches the parrots with a wide grin.

“Sorry,” the female in the lead says, addressing him with a cold, calculating look. “We don’t transport prisoners.”

“Unless you have a valid bounty hunter’s license,” the brawniest of the parrots adds. He looks like he could play a bouncer in one of the seedy bars that dot the commerce district.

“Yeah, even then? No. Not for her.” She points at Chrysalis. “Too risky. Could be a changeling trap. Sorry.”

“She’s not a prisoner,” Doug retorts after their exchange. She raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Don’t worry about her. Name’s Doug. I was just curious what you were hauling.”

“Captain Celaeno.” She sighs as she picks up a clipboard. “Yes, we’re parrots. Yes, we used to be pirates. Yes, we’re hauling Storm King merchandise.” She flicks her head, and the burly parrot at her side lifts the top off one of the crates. He pulls out a Storm King action figure, complete with karate-chop action. A voice comes from inside, the Storm King shouting, “Lightning Bolt! Lightning Bolt!”

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Doug chuckles, shaking his head. The parrots look decidedly unamused. “How much for one?”

Celaeno checks the clipboard. “Box of two dozen, wholesale? Twenty Storm Bucks. So-”

“I’ll take the box,” Doug says eagerly, pulling out one of the bags. He frowns slightly. “Um, do you take bits? Ten for a Storm Buck, right?”

“Eleven, if I have to get them changed.” Celaeno’s eyes go wide as she sees how many bits he has stashed, then at the two-hundred bit gem he pulls out along with two ten-bits. She tries to push the bits back at him. “Hey, look, I don’t want to rip you off or anything, but-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Doug says quietly, wrapping her clawed hand around the money. “Applebaum goes through toys like nopony’s business. But I did want to ask you a few questions.”

Celaeno stiffens, then glances back at her crew, then to her airship parked in the distance. “Twenty bucks apiece to take you, no questions asked, if we’re going somewhere. More the further out of our way. One hundred if you want to share my cabin.”

“Um,” Doug says, briefly flummoxed. It comes to his notice that Calaeno stands taller than even Capper, which puts her bosom at eye level. It doesn’t help that one claw pulls her dark fabric taut, flaunting the assets that, for some inexplicable reason, the parrot possesses. “Thanks, but I was curious more about what it’s like working for the Storm King. You said you used to be pirates?”

Calaeno shrugs off his refusal. “We prefer the term treasure hunters, and there were a number of places along the Obsidian Cliffs where you could make your fortune.” She offers a wry smile. “Turns out, lots of other creatures had the same idea. And the idea that you didn’t need to find that treasure yourself.” She sighs wistfully. “Those were the days, picking off the Storm King’s privateers. But then after the hippogriffs got hit? There was too much heat, so we moved to calmer waters. Going after sand and paste haulers. Less profit, but less risk.”

“You’re awfully open about this,” Doug says reluctantly. “Aren’t you worried?”

“About what, the Storm King finding out?” Celaeno laughs, more of a high pitched screech. “He knows, and might even give us a bonus for spreading word of his ‘mercy’. We got caught doing something… quite a bit worse to him. Tried to steal one of those.” She points at one of the armored airships hovering high above. “Along with his treasure fleet. Turns out, the Storm King is more competent than we gave him credit for. He caught us almost immediately, and we could only watch as he executed his second-in-command in front of us for betraying him.”

“He what?” Doug asks, astonished.

“Kicked him right off the deck, just like that.” Celaeno’s look is haunted. “What were we going to do after that? Tell him no?” She laughs, but it’s quieter this time, forlorn. “Turns out, I did. He wanted me to plot invasions for him, organize his fleet. But when two cool cats stole his ship out from under him, and I helped them get away?” She shakes her head. “At that point it was work as a cargo hauler for him or take a dive off the bow, and I don’t think he would have let me go through the air with these.” She lifts her cloak to spread her wings, an impressive white and green plumage.

“Wow,” Doug says. He wants to find fault with what the Storm King did, with his treatment of the parrots and hippogriffs. But he seems both extraordinarily lenient, with his treatment of the parrots, and ruthless with his second-in-command. But if all the stories of his ‘leniency’ come from survivors? That’s a bit of a biased group.

“In fact,” Celaeno adds, pointing behind Doug, “one of those cool cats we helped? He’s the one who guided you here.” She chuckles. “Small world, huh?”

“Yeah,” Doug says, but his amusement dies as he sees a dozen burly thugs of all sizes behind Capper. They fan out, not yet pulling out the daggers and short swords at their sides. Doug stiffens, looking around for any escape routes. If Chrysalis allows him to ride her - and sadly she might object - the sheer drop off behind them would allow an aerial escape. But otherwise?

“Sorry about that,” Capper apologizes as he steps up to Doug, acting as if noone is behind him. He places a paw on Doug’s armored shoulder. “Had to lose a tail, if you will.”

A shadow passing over the two gets both to wince, dreading glancing up.

“I think you’ll find,” Commander Tempest Shadow says from above, her tone a mocking high-pitched laugh. “That this tail is considerably harder to lose.”

The unicorn rides a small skiff packed full of Storm Guards, Grubber, and - to Doug’s astonishment - Pinkie Pie. She waves at him as if nothing is going on as everycreature disembarks to an unsteady standoff.

The uneasy standoff stops all traffic on the elevated bridge between the airship docks and the rest of Klugetown, carts stacked high with cages stalling on both sides. Those capable of taking alternate routes or disappearing altogether do so, slipping down stairs built into the tall spires.

The six armored Storm Guard grunts nervously twist hands on spears, glinting tips raised to the hazy sky. Tempest Shadow stands imperiously in front of them, daring the motley collection opposite them to make a move with a razor-sharp smirk. Grubber sags at her side, ruining the image by eating a pink-frosted cupcake with a look of pure ecstacy.

On the other side, three bulky fish monsters - as large as the Storm Guards but nowhere near as muscular - keep shifting backward, their claw-like hands on their belt sheathes. A turtle brandishes some sort of crowbar, yet stays as close to hunkered in his shell as he can without actually slipping inside. Eight short rats - technically naked mole rats, except each one wears patched-up suits of varying quality - round out the edges and front of the crew. They brandish claws, light and angry hisses through prominent buck teeth.

The best dressed mole rat steps forward, wearing an aged but still sharp suit. “Back off, you’s,” he threatens, four-clawed hand motioning as if to sweep them off the side. “This ain’t none-a you’s business.”

“You impudent mouse,” Tempest Shadow snarls back, eliciting a sharp squeak of outrage. Her horn sparks, a growl building in the back of her throat. Her malicious grin only widens as the fish monsters glance around for exits, yet the mole rats hold fast with vicious glares. “You think we take orders from you?”

She stops, or at least stalls her fury, as Grubber steps forward. “Now,” he says, polishing off the cupcake with a delectable gulp. “Not everycreature might know. Those two sure didn’t.” He points at the Storm Guards, two of the otherwise indistinguishable grunts tightening their grip on their spears. Grubber turns the motion into holding his claws out, Pinkie Pie only too happy to supply him another cupcake, this one blue and green. He eyes it as only a connoisseur might, searching for any imperfection and finding none. “But when they saw her run off with Capper?” He flicks his head at the Abyssinian standing by Doug and Chrysalis. “We know he works for Verko.”

“Now, look, friends,” Capper says, as cool as a cat. He walks forward with a placating spread of his paws. Behind him Doug whispers to Chrysalis, and she nods, concealed but eager. “We don’t need to resort to violence! I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

“Yeah?” the front mole rat spits out, still trying to intimidate the unicorn with a knife-like glare. It doesn’t work, her restraint showing as she growls again. “Well, we ain’t gonna let you haul her off in chains. Not when Verko wants her, and Verko gets what he wants.”

“Yeah?” Grubber echoes. “Well, you might want to back off if you don’t want to get dropped. The Storm King doesn’t want anything happening to her.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie Pie bounds forward, offering each creature a cupcake she pulls from her mane. “Cupcake? Cupcake?” She frowns when the first two refuse. “They’re delicious~!” She smiles as they try them, then beams when they find them as advertised. “So... what kind of business does this Verko have that needs twelve of you?”

“Us?” The lead mole rat takes a cupcake with a frown. “We’re just here to make sure she don’t get cold hooves.”

“As if the twelve of you could…” Tempest Shadow gawks at the blank space next to the parrots where Chrysalis was standing. “Wait, where did she go?!” She dashes to the edge of the bridge, her horn sparking as she fruitlessly scans.

“Hey!” Chrysalis says as she pulls out of her dive behind one of the spires, wings straining to keep the two aloft. “This isn’t mounting and taking me for a ride!”

“I’m sorry,” Doug deadpans. He jams himself between her wings and withers, arms hugging her neck as tightly as he can. He grimaces at the buildings rushing by, barely able to answer her as fear grips his chest. “What else did you think I was talking about?”

“Well, excuse me for correctly interpreting the way you were staring at that parrot’s mammaries.” Chrysalis’ indignant flip of the mane is somewhat ruined by the rushing wind. “Or the way your face flushed. A blind pony could see that you wanted under her tail feathers.”

“I… Okay, fine. I was curious.” Doug huffs. “But I thought birds laid eggs. Why would she need breasts?”

“You thought…” Chrysalis trails off, turning to stare at Doug.

He yelps as they continue straight for a building, yanking at her mane like a pair of reins. She pulls up just in time, then continues going straight up until they crest into the thin clouds above, making wide circles over the city hidden in the haze.

“You thought parrots are birds?” Chrysalis repeats, astonished. “And laid eggs? What planet did you come from?”

“Not this one,” Doug grunts out, mildly amuses him that he can answer that question honestly. As well, his terror at slipping off is lessened by the fact that he never took his parachute off, the light backpack useful for storing bags of bits and whatnot. He slowly gets his breathing under control, body complaining about the impromptu ride. “You know, I never thought I would say this. I’m not a living monster manual, despite playing a lot of O and O, and I don’t have the Codicil Creature Compendium memorized.”

“Indeed,” Chrysalis says with a hint of a sneer, but her wry smile slips as the tight grip around her neck fails to loosen. She chuckles as she realizes why, amusedly asking, “Is this your first time flying on somepony?”

Doug gulps, wishing he had something better to grab on to. “I-it’s mostly been airships. And one time Rainbow Dash saved me from falling.”

“So,” Chrysalis says with a wide grin, tongue licking at her fangs, “this is your virgin flight? Oh-ho-ho, Rainbow Dash will be furious I took this from her. But she had her chance, and it’s too late now. Isn’t it? ” She chuckles to herself, a deep rumble that turns predatory. “Now, I believe we were talking about you mounting me.”

Her horn flares, a bright green that lights up the haze around them. She starts slowly, tantalizingly pressing from the top of his light armor to the faulds along his legs. She snakes under, ignoring his flinch and gasp as she reaches the thin cloth underneath. Yet trying to go further leaves her stymied; she gets none of the feedback she would get from touching somepony. She prods again, stronger, yet feels nothing! Besides his hands slipping from her mane.

“P-please stop,” Doug whimpers from behind.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” Chrysalis teases, turning to wink at him. “Don’t you want to-”

She cuts off, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as she sees her bright green aura at his midsection. One leg is separated from her. The other, like his hands, uselessly struggles to find purchase against her sleek chitin. If she went any farther she would have pushed him off completely. Her aura shifts to his armor, that familiar feedback returns, and she drags him back on her.

“Thanks,” Doug ekes out. The quaking of his breath slows, but the pounding of his heart doesn’t.

“Mm,” Chrysalis says, inwardly appalled at herself. Here she is trying to thank him and she nearly sends him overboard! She can’t sense fear, but that means nothing coming from him. The only mollifying thing is that his innate nullness stills her shock, calming her down. The words feel foreign coming out of her mouth. “S-sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Y-yeah,” Doug stammers, but doesn’t loosen his tight grip. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Chrysalis glances down. Perhaps it wasn’t just forcing him off? “Are you afraid of heights?”

“I like to think I have a rational appreciation of the danger.” Doug shifts to get a better handhold and because his crotch is killing him with every flap of her wings, seriously considering swapping to side-saddle. It only gets worse as the adrenaline leaves his body. He shudders as he continues, “But yes. It’s tough for me to look down a tall building. Canterlot sucks. Cloudsdale is even worse.”

“You were on the airship just fine,” Chrysalis states, but more curious than accusatory. “Not like Shining Armor.”

“It’s different being on flying transports,” Doug says. He looks up, trying to remember, anything to take his mind off the pain. “I used to have a picture. The text said something along the lines of, ‘Aviation in itself is not inherently dangerous. But to an even greater degree than the sea, it is terribly unforgiving of any carelessness, incapacity or neglect. And there was a picture of an airplane crashed into a tree, with one wing torn off and the cockpit ruined.”

Chrysalis nods knowingly. “Is that why you never took Rainbow Dash for a ride?”

“Partially.” Doug stalls, thinking back. “I wasn’t sure about the mechanics of it. I mean, I’m bigger than her. But I don’t think lift would be an issue, since she can go so fast. She complained about my weight when she caught me a year ago. But she also caught Rarity and two Wonderbolts. So... maybe we could have made it work. They have pegasi pull Princess Celestia around and she’s as big as you. But Dash was pregnant and didn’t want to risk anything, and then there was the accident where she lost her magic. After that, I dunno, I never really thought about her that way.”

He wistfully sighs at the years of missed experiences, knowing how much Rainbow Dash would have loved to share her flight with him instead of him just watching. “But I think it was initially that I thought it would be demeaning to ask. You give rides to kids, like Twilight does with Spike, not to other adults. I’ve never asked Applejack to give me a ride, even if she could handle me easily.”

“Yet you asked me,” Chrysalis says with a glare. “When I was Queen I punished such insolence quite severely.”

“Well,” Doug returns, gripping her tighter. He barely relaxes as she turns her glare to a wink, still looking pained. “That’s why I asked you. You could have said no.”

“I suppose, and we escaped their clutches.” Chrysalis pauses, a bit of intrigue entering her voice. “You said something about an airplane. Is that like an airship?”

“Sort of.” Doug winces as he shifts again. “It’s heavier than air, so no balloon. It uses propellers to generate forward thrust and Bernoulli’s Principle to generate lift with specially designed wings. I’ve done most of my flying in airplanes.”

“How do they compare to riding me?” Chrysalis grins as she looks back, but frowns at his agonized look. “You okay?”

“I-I’ll be okay,” Doug forces out, letting go with one hand to better support his rear. “The flapping takes a lot to get used to. But it’s not bad.”

“I’ll have Rarity make me a saddle for next time.” Chrysalis smirks at what the unicorn’s reaction would be like. She’d need to make sure it was a true riding saddle and not some flimsy ornamental piece those Canterlot snobs wore.

“Next time?” Doug retorts, pushing harder against her. He can barely keep his face straight with the pain shooting through him. “I think we need to make it through this time.”

Chrysalis glances down at his crotch and the way he awkwardly shifts back and forth. Or how he winces every time she flaps her wings. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to be a mare about it.”

“Like I said,” Doug starts.

“And it might be something serious.” Chrysalis somehow makes her ever-present malevolent glare look worried and caring. “Possibly testicular torsion.”

“And you know about this how?” Doug asks, afraid she might be right. It does hurt, right in that area.

“It’s an important part of a stallion, and one mares care about a great deal.” Chrysalis releases an impertinent snort. “Besides, I’ve had to impersonate a lot of doctors over the years.”

“Somehow,” Doug grunts, the agony only getting worse, “claiming you’ve played doctor doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Please,” Chrysalis scoffs. “I put effort into my impersonations, and I knew more than all of them put together. One of the benefits of living so long. Now, hike up that armor and let’s take a look.”

“Well.” Doug stares at Chrysalis, not actually moving yet. He clenches his teeth even as he smirks. “I have to say, if this is a plot to get into my pants? It’s pretty obvious.”

“Oh?” Chrysalis flashes him a sly grin, the tiniest hint of red poking out between her lips. “If what it takes is a cunning plot, then Rainbow Dash must be the most devious of us all.”

Doug snorts, his bluster gone, momentarily forgetting how high up he is to let go and rub at his forehead. “Okay, you got me there.”

“Oh, I’ll do far more than get you.” Chrysalis takes the opportunity while he is distracted to hook a foreleg back and on the opposite side, almost like she is going to toss him off again. Once he has a secure - if somewhat confused - grasp she rolls over and flies upright. It’s awkward with him riding on her belly, but she’s endured worse. “Besides, it’s not like you normally wear pants.”

Doug sighs, long and loud. Her barrel isn’t much softer than her back, tough chitin all around. He warily looks down; it’s uncomfortable, he might slip, but his boots against her thick flanks seem stable enough. If top-heavy; her head comes up to his waist.

“You’re much more reluctant than I imagined.” Chrysalis cocks her head to the side and regards him curiously. It bothers her that she doesn’t have a perfect read on him. Where is this reluctance coming from? The duel between Shining Armor and the Storm King? No, it started earlier than that. “Ocellus reports you as eager, often initiating with her before her stores of love would demand. You’re at the top for frequency, especially for a herd of your size.”

“Do you keep reports on every stallion in Equestria?” Doug quips, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“And the mares,” Chrysalis responds guilelessly. The corners of her muzzle twist upwards in her trademark grin, exposing her vicious fangs, tantalizing despite their sharpness. “Though I only pay attention to the ones that… intrigue me.”

It might be harder to attune to physical signs than to emotions, but that doesn’t slow her in the least. She notes the twitch of his mouth, the swell of his chest, and how he perks up considerably. Stallions love compliments and assurances of their prowess, but this is different. He desires… desire? She grins as one hand goes to his waist and hooks under his armor, though he still has a bit of a grimace.

“Does it still bother you?” she asks, nodding toward his crotch. Her tongue pokes out again, wetting herself in preparation. She can taste him already, his body unwashed after their day-long trip through the desert sun and the stress from her trial. Another deep inhale does nothing but deepen her craving, filling her with his salt-tinged scent.

His mouth pulls tighter, teeth chewing on his tongue. Did he bite himself? “Not as much. I… guess I need more practice riding bareback?”

“Done.” She matches his smirk as his armor’s undergarment drops enough to expose himself, his hand keeping his erect member propped up and away. Her hoof reaches up, gently cradling first one tender orb and then the other. Small for a stallion but just as potent. His breath catches as she closes the distance, neck having to stretch down to better view him.

“There doesn’t seem to be any swelling,” she states clinically, giving him a sharp pinch on the inner thigh and watching that side contract.

“You’re being very… professional about this,” Doug says from above, his other hand steadying himself on the back of her head.

“You expected me to rush in?” Chrysalis demands haughtily, but her smirk gives away her jest. Her hoof slowly climbs his shaft, an inch at a time, finally resting on his hand. He shudders even at her light touch. “You’re fine, if sore from the unpadded contact.” Her smirk widens with her challenge. “Unless you don’t want me to continue testing?”

A stroke of her hoof draws another sharp inhale. The hand behind her head grips into her mane, locking her in place. But he doesn’t mash her forward, not yet. It feels unnatural, not immediately taking what she wants, especially with one so obviously willing.

“Sweet Celestia you’re tempting,” Doug groans out. She grins at the admission, yet it frustrates her that he doesn’t lower his cock and take her then and there. A low whine in the back of her throat poorly conveys that desire, judging by how he fails to meet her challenge. “But why would you want me? I’ve already got…”

He pulls his hand away, counting with taps on her withers.

“Six with Ocellus,” Chrysalis answers, watching his face. She can sense that craving again, that desire for her enthusiastic participation. Her hoof moves slowly, not to stimulate but to keep him at attention. She finds her smile has fallen, replaced by that ever-present malevolent glare. And the frustration at that neutralizes just as quickly. “It is the most of anyling, including myself, since we joined.”

“Yeah.” His crestfallen look surprises her. She expected the opposite reaction to being told he is the most virile. “But that’s because she’s, well, not with foal. It’s just been nymphs.”

Chrysalis wishes he didn’t bring that up. Her and Celestia’s original bargain required those changelings who were not with foal to either leave Equestria or renounce Chrysalis to swear allegiance to Celestia. She doubts the eldest alicorn would have held Ocellus to that bargain. And none of her brood would betray her. Yet… the likeliest would have been Thorax. And Ocellus has been spending a lot of time with him and Pharynx. Coincidence?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. She hides her evaluation of her former infiltrator and asks sharply, “Have you not seen her grubs?”

“Err,” Doug stalls, briefly grimacing. “Not since you all transformed last week. Before that they all looked, well, the same. Hard to tell apart with you raising them collectively.”

“I prefer the uniform appearance,” Chrysalis bluntly confesses. “We had a unified purpose, a singular goal, and together everyling worked toward it. Now? We are fragmented, for as much as our wide distribution is by design. Our fracturing is clearly evidenced by their differing colorations, as much as they delight in their new colors and individuality.”

“You don’t approve of the new colors?” Doug runs his fingers through her thick mane, smiling fondly. His hand continues traveling back, his tall form bending over hers. “I like your new look.”

“Mm.” The burst of happiness is short-lived, even as he rubs the spot closest to her stored foal and eggs. She rewards him with a fast pump of her hoof, eliciting a light moan. “None of the greens are sharp enough, to say nothing of the pastel pinks and blues. Ocellus is a prime example.”

“She… She’s alright.” Doug scratches at the back of his head, then returns to her mane. “Honestly? I’m with you there. I don’t care for the pink or blue. I liked her original black, even if it was hard to pick out of a crowd. But you can’t be doing this just because Shining Armor gives you, I dunno, blue grubs.”

“I am not that superficial,” Chrysalis spits out. Despite him being absolutely correct. His growing brood with Ocellus all match her pinks and blues with some blending; if she could get the same? “But the grubs do inherit characteristics from their sire. A unicorn such as Shining Armor produces more thaumically gifted ‘lings. Those from a pegasus, even one such as Bulk Biceps, fly better. Useful traits, of course. But yours?”

She meets his eyes, hers glinting with anticipation. Her hoof pulls down on his shaft, skin receding and exposing that engorged head in all its glory. She relishes the pulses and twitches, so easy to please even without an intimate understanding of his reactions. She lines him up, ready to plunge in, his grip on her loosening. He wouldn’t stop her; no, he wants her, too!

“Yours are… tenacious.” Her smile at the word persists, even with his aura of apathy. And she can feel the same reaction from him, his pulse quickening in her hoof. “They are not the strongest nor the fastest. But they do not give up. They keep staring when others get distracted. They do not complain, they just push harder. And that perseverance will be mine.”

In an instant Chrysalis envelopes his cock, lapping at the sweet bulb pushing out of him. She can already taste his excitement, the singular drop tantalizing her taste buds. Her teeth gently rake down his shaft as she takes him farther, all the way to the hilt in no time at all. Her snout presses against him and still she pushes, moaning with delight. There is no need to bob her head while she deep-throats him; her tongue coils around and strokes, a constrictor rhymically squeezing, drawing that life-giving seed out of him. A lesser stallion would have shot his load then and there! Yet he endures, enlarging with a few shuddering pulses.

“Sweet Celestia,” Doug groans, nearly collapsing. Fingers twist into her mane, gripping tight and searching for any kind of support. He can only stare at the long fangs that brush against his belly. It’s exhilarating, that rush of danger, that at any moment she could clamp her mouth together and neatly bite him off. He can barely hold on, not swimming but drowning in hedonistic pleasure.

“Your Princess?” Chrysalis says as she withdraws, lavishing his tip with one last flick of her long tongue. His needful moan is music to her ears. “She could be marinating in my belly and you would think nothing of basting her with your seed.”

She grins as she goes back, only to find him going limp as if he had been thrust not in a cold shower but the frigid waste of the Frozen North. She frowns; the only way his erection could have disappeared faster would be if she had actually severed him.

“Why?!” Doug pleads, wrenching her head up to stare at her. She could easily fight him off but doesn’t, meeting eyes flitting between anguish and rage. “Why would… why would you even joke about something like that?!”

“Are-” Chrysalis starts haughtily, only for him to cut her off.

“And don’t even tell me that it’s true,” Doug chokes out. He tears his gaze away from her to stare at the sky, avoiding her look. “Shit, it probably is. I completely forgot we were flying for a moment.”

Chrysalis fumes with an angry snort at being denied her prize. “Are you so foalish as to think I would actually devour the Princess of the Sun?”

“Well,” Doug says before sighing to himself. He shakes his head unhappily, releasing his tight grip on her. “No. Not the Princess.”

“Then the prince protests too much, methinks,” Chrysalis retorts with a wry sneer. She swaps forelegs, one of the holes on her left side the perfect size to constrict his erection like a ring. There would be no repeats of him losing interest, not when she-

She frowns as she presses her decidedly not-holed leg against his flaccid member. It bends to the side easily. She hates how her transformation throws off her proprioception! She never has this problem when she copies another form.

“I don’t think it works like that,” he helpfully advises. That or he is contesting her retort, but from his grin she doesn’t think it’s that.

“Silence.” She glares at nothing in particular. It would be unbecoming to be forced to tease him back to full readiness, even if she is no longer queen. Even as his excitement slowly returns. “But it is more than mere physical characteristics that I desire from you.”

“Oh?” Doug’s voice has lost any trace of the animosity he projected earlier. That eagerness returns, and it isn’t solely because of her stroking hoof. “Why else?”

“Because you believe in us.” Chrysalis glumly sighs as she lowers her head, stopping inches away from his tip. “Shining Armor and Cadance profess the same, but I can sense their hesitancy. He has not forgiven me for what I did to his Cadance. Yet you? You have embraced Luna as a part of your herd despite her near calamity. I do not believe it is the lack of doubt that I sense from you. Am I wrong? Am I misreading you?”

By the end her sneer has progressed further than she wants, openly daring him to contest her claims. She pulls it back, finding it easy to release her condemnation, that hostility she feels for any who might oppose her.

“No,” Doug says after a few second’s consideration. “You’re right. I do believe in the better you. And in Luna. I even have hope for the griffons, if you’ll believe that.”

She grins, and a laugh that might have been mocking at his naivete instead comes out optimistic and cheerful.

“I desire that hope,” she purrs, resting the tip of his now-erect penis against her lips. But she doesn’t engulf him just yet, resisting the hands digging into her mane and pressing her forward. “You would help me and mine find meaning, a worthwhile pursuit, to be more than broodmares and petty laborers.”

She starts low this time, the base of his shaft, not needing to move as her long tongue stretches. She enjoys his shudders even if she cannot partake of his belly-filling lust, though he would certainly be filling her belly.

She grins up at him, smacking her lips in anticipation. “I would reward that hope.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Doug starts, only to cut off with a low moan as she dips down.

She takes him halfway, bobbing up and down against the protrusion of his head. Every time she passes the thin valley he clenches in pure pleasure, his quickening breath only spurring her faster. But she denies him, if just for a moment, pulling away before he can release. She looks up, waiting until he recovers and meets her gaze.

“For that confidence in me? That hope, that belief? I would reward you in any way you desire.” She motions to his cock with a short nod of her head. “If you do not wish this?”

She pulls away, only for his hand to lock her in place. She grins at the confirmation of his - and her - intent. And what a glorious intent it is!

“You would help me build a new nation, a new people, from the ashes and destruction we have wrought. A culture based on achievement and greatness instead of deception and theft. And such a monumental task deserves an equal reward.” She stares into his eyes and swears, solemnly and sincerely. “I shall bear a thousand of your young. For as long as you join me, I shall join with you. A progenitor of our race.”

She gives into the hands pulling her toward him, relishing how he forces her muzzle open and pierces into her. Lips cover teeth as he thrusts, his warm and hard shaft ramming along the length of her tongue. It takes no time at all for him to reach his limit, the teasing and denial too much for even his alicorn-tempered endurance.

She pulls back as his cock twitches, keeping his head locked between her teeth. Her tongue lines up against his tip, catching the first surge of seed as it releases. It tastes wonderful, full of potential, and her whole body vibrates with excitement. The next two pulses spill off the sides, tempting her to swallow him in his entirety, but she has much larger plans than a lustful meal.

She withdraws as he finishes filling her, maw gaping wide to show him the seed she has taken. He stiffens, the simple sight enough to get him ready to go again, but she doesn’t close her mouth and swallow like his mares. Instead, to his gasp of exaggerated horror, she lets the seed flow down her tongue and past her lips.

But not to be blown away in the wind, but to her other set of lips. Her bright green aura catches the glob of white and slips it inside her sopping nethers. The saliva mixed in makes it easier to maneuver, a rush of ecstasy spreading through her as she pushes deep. A crude method, but effective, and she swallows the rest once his seed is safely stowed away. It would not take long to guide to a waiting egg. Or perhaps two? There is certainly enough.

“The first of many,” she says breathlessly, settling on one. For now. She wonders what the grub will be like. Will it copy her coloration completely? How adept would it be at shapeshifting, at flying, at magic? More importantly, will it share her ruthless drive and their unyielding tenacity? So many possibilities, and her eyes sparkle at imagining them.

“You’re incorrigible,” Doug pants out, adjusting and packing himself away.

“Would you have me be any other way?” Chrysalis asks demurely, licking the last of him from her fangy grin. She actually means it, too, if he did ask.

“Yeah, no,” Doug agrees, though with a note of trepidation. He shifts as she rolls back to a normal flying position, not straddling her like before but sitting with both legs off one side, one arm looped around her neck. “What… How do you think Shining Armor will take this?”

Chrysalis scowls, but it’s short-lived. “Cadance was eager for me to join with you,” she starts, keeping her acid reserved. “Because he cannot see beyond my past. If he desires to lay with me beyond for a foal? I shall. But he will not be terribly heart-broken. Now be quiet.”

She leans back, resting her head on his shoulder, not for his support but for hers. Because who wants to be reviled? In the past, she embraced the infamous image because she must. But now?

Now, things will be glorious.

For several blissful minutes Chrysalis soars, rhythmically beating her cobalt wings against the hazy, dusty air. She finds it… pleasant to not have to correct for the holes in her previous set. She devotes the extra attention to fabricating her next egg, siphoning from her overstocked stores of fat and protein and guiding the creation of the newest addition to her brood.

The combination happens in an instant, taking her by surprise. The two halves meet like clashing forces and the result is not a battle she needs to influence but a complete rout. Like releasing ink into water, or air into a vacuum, changeling magic immediately fills the void. Like a parasitic insect, as much as she hates the analogy, that consumes its victim and turns the usable components into more of itself. There would be influence from him, certainly, but not on core characteristics. With others she can control the outcome, a burst of magic sufficient to overpower the fledgling core. But here? There is no question that the final result will be a changeling. She doubts she could ever force the outcome to be fully human. Ocellus mentioned that Doug isn’t like a pony. But it takes feeling firsthoof the difference between him and every other creature she bred with to hammer that point home.

“You know,” Doug whispers, trying to be unobtrusive yet drawing her out of her reverie. “The others are waiting for us.”

“Then they can wait a little longer,” Chrysalis replies, scowling.

“Sure,” Doug says, lightly sighing as he goes back to leaning against her neck.

She tries to go back to her egg, yet finds she has automatically completed the process she has gone through ten thousand times before. She huffs, turning so he can clearly see her scowl.

“What?” Chrysalis demands. “Couldn’t wait to get back to your ponies?”

Doug snorts. “Hardly. I’m tired of my thoughts spinning in bigger circles than you’re making.”

“Applejack?” Chrysalis guesses. By pony custom she should have gone to the lead mare before studding with the stallion. Not that she cares. Well, she somewhat cares, if only to avoid alienating a begrudgingly valuable ally.

“I was thinking more Rainbow Dash.” Doug shudders, trying to keep a brave face. Chrysalis can imagine why, the only difficulty being not injuring the pugilistic pegasus if she comes after her. “She’s going to see or hear about you flying me around. I hope that, instead of being furious, she’ll see you as an inspiration.”

“Me?” Chrysalis laughs, short and derisive. “An inspiration?”

“Sure,” Doug says, this time with a genuine smile. His hands flit around, trying to demonstrate. “Maybe she’ll want to test flying around with me, I don’t know, hooked under her forelegs. She lifted a pony - actually three ponies - like that once. If I don’t fit on her back. But she’ll do it because she saw you doing it.”

Chrysalis considers that as her wings lock, slowly gliding down to the city below. She is a role model for her ‘lings, of course. But the only thing she ever inspires in the other races is fear and loathing. Or lust until they find out, if they ever find out. She talked about creating art and buildings, but creating things that inspire?

Klugetown slowly becomes visible as they descend, the tallest construction spires landmarks she uses to glide to Capper’s destination. She didn’t need the Abyssinian’s assistance to navigate the twisting back alleys and passageways of the labyrinthian city. It would be easier if she didn’t have a history with the proprietor of this… establishment. Though she could probably say that about most of Equus.

The building in question displays an opulence far fancier than most of the ramshackle slums in lower Klugetown. Polished jewels adorn every gilded corner while chains of silver and bronze swish in front of windows and doorways. Diamonds the size of a head, with rings made for a finger, grace a white and black Abyssinian bouncer standing at the door. He dourly regards the two as they land. Pinkie Pie stands next to him, waving at them cheerfully.

“It’s a trap,” Doug mutters to Chrysalis as they get closer.

She snorts. “It’s not a trap, it’s a test.”

His face scrunches up. “If you successfully steal from them, what, they offer you a job?”

Chrysalis grunts in affirmation.

Doug nods along obligingly. “And if you don’t get away?”

“They make you an offer you can’t refuse,” Chrysalis returns with a smirk. “Which is also a job. Only somecreature dumb enough to want to work for Verko would dare steal from him.”

“Hey!” the cat in front of the store objects as they land.

“I see.” Doug looks at the sulking cat, then at Pinkie Pie. “Hey, Pinkie!”

“Hi, Dougie!” Pinkie Pie shifts her mane to expose the box on her back. “You forgot these! Also, you’re terrible at hide-and-seek!” She shakes her head as she pronks over. She plants her legs on his thighs, reaching up and trading a nuzzle as Doug returns her fond smile. “You aren’t supposed to come to me.” Her eyes suddenly go wide, rearing back in alarm. “Unless I was the hi-dee! But if that’s the case, it took you a long time to count to one hundred! Like, a really, really long time!”

“Something like that,” Doug chuckles, scratching at the back of Pinkie Pie’s mane as his other hand keeps the box of Storm King toys from falling. “Everything turn out okay?”

“Yup! Those Storm Guards can really pack away a pie, if you know what I mean!” Her smile beams as her eyes sparkle. “They loved my party! And so did the unicorns who keep the reactor running, and the pegasi that work the lightning, but I didn’t see any earth ponies, and the one Abyssinian they had scrubbing floors, like all the floors, and the two griffons in charge of inventory, and the hippogriff keeping everycreature in check when Tempest Shadow wasn’t there, and that Grubber who’s, like, a storm creature but a really runty one and not a dwarf? And-”

“Wait, what?” Doug says, interrupting.

Pinkie Pie eyes Doug curiously. “Grubber? He’s short, you met him at Canterlot, third in command? He really likes my cupcakes! And maybe if he eats enough of them he’ll grow up big and strong like his older brothers in the Guard, but-”

“No, no, before that,” Doug says.

“The Abyssinian?” Pinkie Pie glances at the cat standing guard and still trying to look menacing. “I don’t think the Storm King likes her very much. Or cats in general. And they hate getting their fur all sticky, they walk really funny with tar on one side, and the others kept-”

“After that,” Doug tries again.

“The griffons? They-”

Doug doesn’t let her get started. “After.”

Pinkie Pie raises an eyebrow. “Tempest Shadow?”

Doug sighs loudly. “You said there was a hippogriff working for the Storm King?”

“Oh, yeah!” Pinkie Pie nods furiously, dislodging several pieces of candy from her mane. “Lieutenant Commander Kay Ay! He liked the seafood pizza the most. He tried a cupcake, but it was sea blue, and that must have reminded him of something important because he kept staring to the southeast. I can get not staring down at the water here, the color is atrocious! He said it’s a lot better around Mount Aris. But he hasn’t been back there since he started working as a valet and he’s risen up the ranks ever since!”

“Do we need the backstory on every single creature you met?” Chrysalis growls impatiently. She turns to Doug. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

“Oops! I didn’t realize!” Pinkie Pie first hugs Doug, then a scowling Chrysalis. “Oh! If they offer you an all-expenses-paid cruise trip, be sure to read the fine print! Because you’re probably selling yourself into indentured servitude. Which isn’t slavery, I checked.”

“Good to know,” Doug says, looking up at the sign above. “Verko’s Legitimate Financing and Rouge Guild.” His eye scrunches up again. “They sell makeup?”

“We also reconstruct faces and remodel businesses,” the Abyssinian growls out, crossing his arms and trying to look tough. He’s a bit shorter than Doug and quite slender, not exactly an intimidating figure. “You’s want a discount?”

“Ooh, that’d be great,” Doug says, giving the confused cat an amiable smile. He waves at Pinkie Pie, “See you later!”

“Goodbye!” Pinkie Pie returns, pronking away. She shouts with a wink, “Oh, and congratulations, you two!”

“Don’t ask,” Doug cautions Chrysalis, who had no intention of asking anyway. He walks to the front entrance, the guard grumbling as he steps to the side, and pushes through the silver chains. Chrysalis follows shortly behind.

They enter a fairly normal looking reception area, a few potted plants breaking up the otherwise drab atmosphere. A short, squat mole-rat greets them from behind a counter with a guarded smile. She clicks her claws together as they approach. “My name is Sandy. Can I help you?”

“Doug. I’d like to get my Equestrian bits changed into Storm Bucks.” He pulls out the fist of many bags, flashing Chrysalis a dicey grin. “Good thing I didn’t drop these.”

“Yes, I am sure they could not have lived without their souvenirs,” Chrysalis deadpans back.

“Of course,” the bored mole-rat says, dumping the first bag and efficiently counting out the coins and gems in front of him. It totals six thousand bits, mostly in gems. She continues in a practiced monotone, “There’s a nine percent charge and an eight percent surcharge on gems.”

“Rarity is not going to like that,” Doug mutters to himself. He flicks a hand outside. “Your doorcat said something about a discount?”

Sandy pulls out a form and pushes it forward. “We’ll wave the entire fee with this. Would you like cash or check?”

“Um,” Doug starts.

“Storm Bucks only come in singles,” the mole-rat offers with a palpable look of dread at actually having to count out more than five hundred bucks.

“Check is fine.” Doug takes the form, reading the first line with a frown. “This is an application for a spot on a cruise ship.” He shakes his head as he returns it, pulling out a second bag. Chrysalis swipes the form as he says, “Can I get this one, and the rest, counted separately?”

“Certainly.” Sandy pulls out a piece of paper, tallying up how many bits and gems are in each bag. She frowns as Chrysalis returns a completed cruise ship application, quickly reading through it. “Everything… appears in order. When will your replacement be arriving?”

“One week.” Chrysalis glances at Doug and his quiet harrumph. “Yes?”

“You’d sell your child into slavery?” Doug demands, hands on his hips.

“Indentured servitude,” Chrysalis corrects with a smirk. “For three thousand bits? I’d sell you into slavery.” She winks, though Doug doesn’t look amused. “Plus, working on a cruise ship could provide valuable experience and blackmail. I mean, information.”

“Sign here so we have a signature to compare to the cashed checks,” Sandy says, back to being bored. She pushes a piece of paper at Doug. “The account is in a lump sum, with the individual tallies here.” She pushes the lined paper to him along with a stack of checks. “You’ll need to sign them. The penalty for overdrawing is twenty-five Storm Bucks. When or if you wish to cash out you may receive your balance in either Storm Bucks or Equestrian bits at no charge.”

“Got it,” Doug says, lowering his pen to the paper. He stops as he reads the filled-in form. “Hey, this is another application for a cruise ship.”

“Force of habit,” the mole-rat says without a hint of an actual apology. She passes him a blank piece of paper this time. Doug signs it after checking both sides and she stamps the checks. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s it,” Doug says, collecting the checks and putting them in his backpack.” He remarks to Chrysalis, “So, this Verko guy. Did you try to steal from him?”

“Only his love,” Chrysalis says with a long sigh. “But I miscalculated. You see-”

“Ah-ha!” comes a high-pitched shout from the front entrance. “I thought I smelled viper.”

A suited mole-rat, the best dressed they have seen so far, stands in the doorway. He has a large black top hat, speckles that glint with reflected light, and a patched-up suit that Rarity might refer to as ratty. Verko grins greedily, stepping forward. The disturbed chains swing back and forth, revealing a caged wagon outside.

“Chrysalis!” Verko stalks up to her, brandishing a claw. “I imagined you to be a Rufus to my Débutante! My sister miraculously recovered from her illness! But instead, you matched that name all too perfectly. A common snake.”

“Sister?” Doug asks, frowning at Chrysalis. Verko seems far too happy to let her explain, grinning like she’s full of dirt he’s about to dig through. “So you miscalculated by…”

Chrysalis huffs at her mistake, even if it happened years ago. “Only one mole-rat goes into heat at a time.” She raises an eyebrow as Doug crosses his arms and looks sternly at her. “What? They’re all sisters and brothers. One big family.”

“I would have done anything to get my sister back,” Verko states, sighing dramatically. “For that is all a mole-rat has in this world. Their family. But after it turned out that the most famous healer, Mage Meadowbrook, has been missing for a thousand years, our last hope was gone.” He wheels around, bombastically pointing at Chrysalis. “But you gave us back that hope, only to destroy it when you were found out!”

Chrysalis nods gravely. “I remember your sister.” Verko perks up, losing his enmity. “I could send one of my brood. Teach her the mannerisms, the stories, what I had gleaned from your sister in her final days.” Her tone takes on the sweetness of honey. “She loved to talk, and I am sure you would love to listen to her once again.”

Verko eyes her cautiously. “For how long?”

“A year? Two? However long you require, and she would be available in any capacity you desire.” Chrysalis grins her fangy grin. “She will be here in a week, sooner with an airship.”

“Then I shall send one this minute!” Verko races forward to embrace Chrysalis’ leg. She ignores the temptation to kick him away. “And I shall spread the word that you, and all changelings, are to be welcome in Klugetown!”

“Great.” Chrysalis shakes her leg, succeeding in dislodging the mole-rat. A few quick steps take her out the door, Doug at her side. “Walk or fly?”

“Flying is fine,” Doug says, smoothly jumping onto her side. His arm again wraps around her neck. “So, you’re awfully mercenary about sending your ‘lings on these… missions.”

“Have a plan to seduce anyone you meet,” Chrysalis states evenly, following up with a wink at Doug.

Doug chuckles, drawing a contented purr as his fingers dance along her neck toward her muzzle. “Boom, headshot?”

“Is that what the foals call it these days?” She reaches her tongue out, licking at his thumb. Her tone turns serious. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, if they’re consenting, I don’t see how I can object.” He sighs, looking up at the hazy clouds perpetually surrounding the city. “I just, I dunno. I think that things work better with long-term commitments. But that’s not how you’ve operated, and things have worked out for you, right? More or less. Have you been married before?”

“I have been married more times than years you’ve been alive,” Chrysalis says, pensively instead of spitefully. “But even all combined, I have been married for less time than you and Applejack.”

“Mm.” Doug surprises Chrysalis by putting himself off balance to hug her with both arms, squeezing tight against her neck.

She wants to return the hug and the sense of hope she can barely taste, yet any sort of aerial antics this time would be a bit more obvious. By the time the multicolored throng comes into view he is holding on more for dear life than for reassurance. As expected, Rainbow Dash bolts up to greet them, but the wide-eyed pegasus does little more than point a hoof and sputter.

Pinkie Pie returned before them, because of course she did, and the five ponies cluster around Doug as he disembarks from Chrysalis’ ebony withers. They line up, herd order with Applejack in the lead, trading deep nuzzles and soft kisses and collecting their checks only as an afterthought.

“Hey,” Shining Armor states as he walks up to Chrysalis. His voice is neutral, a light bump of withers the remainder of their greeting. “Good to see you’re safe.”

“Indeed,” Chrysalis says, matching his glower, watching Doug unsuccessfully beat off the ponies mobbing him. She sighs wistfully, especially as Shining Armor walks away from the amorous sight with a wry snort and goes back to browsing at the knife merchant.

Applejack growls as Rainbow Dash sneaks in a second nuzzle, diving past Pinkie Pie to secure another. A jostled Cadance gets her checkbook along with a, perhaps misplaced, nuzzle and kiss. It doesn’t bother her in the slightest, at least until Rainbow Dash slips under Doug. She leaps to her hooves with him on her withers, overbalancing and sending him crashing backward into Twilight. The pile devolves into a writhing heap of wrestling ponies, only Rarity extracting herself with a relieved flick of her styled mane. Until a pink hoof grabs her hock and drags her back in.

A bemused Chrysalis, detached even from group hysteria, inches jumpily. Keeping limber means nothing over Pinkie’s queen reaching shove, throwing under voracious waifus extracting yummy zeal.

“Alright, Rainbow, that’s enough prancing about,” Doug says sternly. His knees are tired from clenching onto the pegasus’ withers for what feels like hours. Applejack trots alongside, staying close as they once again navigate through the crowded market. Chrysalis has long since gone inside, leaving the ponies milling about. “We’ve spent the last of our Storm Bucks and I’m getting hungry.”

“Aww,” Rainbow Dash groans to the top-heavy human riding on her back. Well, riding might be pushing it. She has to walk really slowly or he complains about her jostling him, even though he only fell off once! “One more lap around?”

“You already had your one more lap,” Applejack retorts. She shakes her saddlebags, rattling the souvenirs inside. “Ah’m just about ready to break for lunch, too. It’s like Ah’ve been pickin’ up singles back at the farm, but Ah don’t have the smell of fresh apples to help me through it.”

She steps closer to Doug, nudging her head against his leg. He looks down, meeting her guarded stare. He sighs, reaching for her mane, but she pulls away before he can run his hand through the thick ponytail. His hand clenches into a fist, but briefly, quickly going back to holding onto Rainbow.

“Ugh, fine,” Rainbow says with an exaggerated sigh. She turns, nearly dumping Doug off in the process, and plods over to Rarity. The unicorn is still arguing with that cloth merchant over shades of blue. Which is silly, because they already have the best blue right here! She frowns as Doug hops off. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Doug smirks, squatting down. One hand teases at her chromatic mane before slipping under her barrel. Her eyes go wide as the other brushes past her teat to grip her hind leg. “Ready?”

“Dude, you don’t have to do this,” Rainbow says, though she makes no effort to stop him. She braces as he gathers his strength, then lifts her into the air with one smooth motion and an accompanying loud grunt. She barely clears his head, her barrel plopping down between his shoulders. Awkward, if not uncomfortable, and he didn’t have to roll her in the dirt to get her up here!

“No, I think I do,” Doug returns. He lets go to scratch at her muzzle, drawing her close. She nuzzles his ear with a loving grin as her legs dangle around his arms. “It’s not demeaning if we ride each other, right?”

“You call this riding?” Her tail flicks down, swatting him in the flank, but it’s far less satisfying when she hits his armor instead.

“It could be worse,” Doug says with a wry shrug, bobbing her up and down. “I could be carrying you like this!”

With a primal roar he rolls Rainbow so the base of her spine is against his shoulder, hand counterbalancing at her withers and leaving her legs kicking uselessly at the air. He has to strain to keep her from toppling forward, but at least she’s close to his own weight and a lot more cooperative than a tree trunk.

Rainbow yelps at the exposed position; it would be easy to buffet him away with a wing, yet they stay pressed against her sides. She lets her head loll back, staring at the upside-down creatures. She points at the embassy and calls out, “Giddy-up!”

Doug lurches forward with long, loping strides. Rainbow swats at his backside again and again, spurring him faster. Her tail quickly reaches a staccato cadence that matches his footfalls. The rest of the herd follow behind, wry chuckles and bemused glances at the wary creatures stopped in their tracks lest they catch the colorful madness clearly afflicting the ponies.

“Oh! Oh!” Pinkie Pie exclaims as she pronks next to Doug, jumping high enough to land on his shoulder if she angled herself right. “Do me! Do me!”

With a grand shrug and bounce from his legs Doug heaves Rainbow off his shoulder. Cerulean wings snap out, a single flick righting the mare. She lands on all four hooves, backpedaling away as Doug slows to a halt. He bends down, not quite taking a knee as he taps at his back.

“Careful,” Doug cautions as Pinkie Pie prepares to leap onto his back.

“Aww,” Pinkie Pie says as she gingerly climbs onto his back. Her hindlegs slip around his waist, locking her in place. “Rainbow Dash jumps you all the time!”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t weigh twice as much as me.” Doug gathers himself for a moment before he staggers to his feet. He can barely trudge to the embassy, relying on Rainbow to open the door. “I just hope I don’t blow a knee.”

“Speakin’ of blowin’,” Applejack remarks, her voice hard. It pulls Doug to a stop, the five mares of the herd, Shining Armor and Cadance gathering closely around Doug. The mares have lost their giddiness, closer to the dour stare Shining Armor has that hides his scowl. “Anythin’ ya wanna tell us?”

“I’ll,” Doug starts before pausing, his heavy breathing not just because of the weight on his back. He glances around at the embassy. Ponies from the Realm of Clouds, Crystal Empire, and creatures from the various other countries are making their way inside, occasionally giving them curious glances. He turns back to Applejack. “I’ll tell you once we’re inside.”

“Alright, partner.” Applejack reaches up to nuzzle his neck, then leads the way up the stairs. He has to take his time on each one, refusing to let Pinkie Pie off his back until he settles next to Celestia, a snoozing Luna, Fluttershy, and Spike. The rest of the ponies form a loose ring, Doug opposite Shining Armor and Cadance while between Applejack and Celestia.

The golden glow around Celestia’s horn fades as they approach, her unfocused eyes pulling back to reality. She greets Doug with a fond smile, though notes his hesitancy. A single sniff narrows her eyes; she glances at Applejack, the two exchanging silent, confirming nods.

“Chrysalis is communicating with her brood,” the white alicorn states, giving no uncertainty as to why she mentions this. Her gaze flicks to Spike; the dragon is looking up at them from a pile of Twilight’s papers, quite confused. She turns to Twilight, eyeing her curiously.

“Spike is old enough,” Twilight says, answering the unspoken question.

“Very well.” Celestia offers Doug a smile, pleasant given the circumstance. “I hope you do not require me in my capacity as Princess.”

Doug shakes his head. Celestia would often resolve disputes between ponies as a judge of sorts, though she prefers it when her little ponies are able to settle things themselves. He hasn’t thought about her having to adjudicate something between her herd and another, and could easily envision the cries of corruption.

Still, he hesitates, deliberating the best way to bring this up in the presence of Shining Armor and Cadance. The former still hasn’t lost his glare, Cadance doing her best to nuzzle and either distract or reassure him.

“We ain’t accusin’ ya,” Applejack says when he isn’t immediately forthcoming. She pushes against him, something between a nuzzle and a nudge. “We just wanna know what happened.”

“I wouldn’t hide anything from you,” Doug says, returning the nuzzle with a rub of his hand against her cheek. She smiles at the contact, but it’s guarded. He stiffens, drawing himself up and squaring his shoulders, much like Chrysalis before she received her verdict. “Not that I’d want to. I’m guessing you could, what, smell her on me?”

“More you on her.” Applejack illustrates with a long sniff, puckering up exaggeratedly. “We’re more’n a bit familiar with ya.”

“What are we talking about?” Spike asks, putting away the papers. Most of the mares share awkward glances.

“Chrysalis wanted a nymph with me,” Doug explains matter-of-factly. He has to force himself to meet Shining Armor’s glare, but he does. It gets more difficult when he sees Rainbow gritting her teeth and Fluttershy’s resigned sigh. “I… agreed. I can go into more detail, if you want. From what I understand, Cadance gave the okay, and-”

“You what?” Shining Armor demands, pulling away and fixing his wife with a cold stare. His naked scowl aims all the vitriol he felt for Doug at her, as much as it hurts to look at her that way.

Cadance frowns deeply, feeling his hatred as a physical punch to the gut. “You must have seen how unhappy she was. Is. Why else would she spend so much time in Ponyville? If a… a break helped her through this, then it would have been for the best!”

“But we were making it work! She was supposed to be my responsibility.” Shining Armor snorts, though now his animosity is directed at himself. “What did we expect? That she was going to become a model pony in a week? A month? Two months? Wrong. Changelings aren’t ponies, no matter how much we wish they were. I should have known.” He sighs, dejected. Cadance draws close to nuzzle him as he quakes. “I thought we were making it work. Was it really that bad?”

“From what she said?” Doug bows his head, clasping his hands together. “I think she saw past the smiling face to how you really felt. She wants more than empty words and an expectation that she will fail. Apparently, she found that in me. But she didn’t want to stop there, with just one.” One hand comes up to rub at Applejack’s muzzle. He stares into her emerald eyes, his mouth grimly pursing. “She’s looking to expand. Rapidly, if she and her brood keep pumping new members out.” He rolls his eyes as she opens her mouth, teasing at her jaw and getting her to stay quiet, if just for a moment. “Yes, I know I’m helping them there.”

“Ah was gonna say,” Applejack retorts, blowing his thumb away with a quick gust, “that Ah have a hard time blamin’ her for comin’ after ya.”

“Exactly,” Rainbow Dash interjects with a wide smirk. “Three Princesses. The Elements of Harmony. Even Starlight and Trixie aren’t slouches where magic is concerned.” She walks forward, breaking the circle to sit in Doug’s lap. He wraps his arms around her, meeting her muzzle with a chaste kiss. She grins, continuing, “If any of that awesomeness rubbed off on you?”

“What about me?” Shining Armor retorts. He puffs his chest up. “All of my mares are Princesses, or former queens. Plus, I am the Sibling Supreme.” He sticks his tongue out at Twilight, which she returns with just as much gusto. “And we’re going to be ruling the Crystal Empire soon, right?”

“Actually, I think we are going to be discussing that next,” Twilight says. All around them the auditorium has filled in, the various delegates taking their places. Various servers come to each group and gather their lunch orders. She imperiously points her hoof at her BBBFF. “And I’m taking back that crown!”

The exchange leaves the ponies chuckling, shaking their heads as they lean back and relax. Only Doug stays tensed, scratching at Rainbow’s mane as he nervously looks at Applejack.

“You’re really not worried about this?” he asks quietly.

Applejack draws out a long sigh. “Doug, ever since you showed interest in Rarity and Dash? Ah knew Ah wasn’t gonna be in a one-mare herd. Ah’ve had a long time to come to terms with the fact that Ah wasn’t gonna be like mah parents. With each member we add Ah wonder if that’s gonna be the last one, or if that one’s gonna be the rotten apple that breaks us apart. Ah ain’t thrilled by it, especially her. But as long as Ah can spend enough time with ya, Ah’ll be happy. And that goes for the rest of us, too.”

“Alright, then,” Doug says, drawing her in for a hug. She returns it with a soft smile. “As long as you’re honest when things are bothering you.”

“‘Course, partner,” Applejack grunts out. She snorts as she smirks at him. “At least you ain’t built like Big Mac. Or worse, Prince Blueblood. Ah’d get tired from beatin’ mares off’a ya, and Ah buck trees all day!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Doug says, ruffling the blond mane. She matches his grin. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad I’m not.”

“Mm.” Applejack leans into him, growing somber. “How was she?”

“How…” Doug trails off, blinking a few times as he clears his thoughts. He grimaces as he steals an apologetic glance at Rainbow Dash. “She gave one of the fastest muzzlejobs I’ve had.”

"Faster than me?” Rainbow exclaims, pointing a hoof at her chest. “I’ll show you fast!”

Doug’s legs and arms clench around the pegasus, trying desperately to keep her contained. Despite his greater leverage and arm strength she rolls so her belly is against him, only his legs locking under her forelegs keeping her from her prize. Even tickling her ears doesn’t stop her, and she wrestles against his hips as she tries to loosen his grip and slip her forelegs out.

“Faster isn’t always better,” Doug tries, swapping from as strong a grip as he can to long, soothing strokes against Rainbow’s neck. That slows her down, if momentarily. “You like to savor it, and it’s a lot more enjoyable that way.”

“I shall keep that in mind next time,” a harsh voice comes from above. Rainbow Dash and Doug stop struggling and glance up to see Chrysalis smiling her ever-present malevolent grin. She licks her exposed fangs, purring as she settles down next to them, deeply inhaling as if she is imbibing their love, yet their passion for each other remains untouched.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” Rainbow Dash demands, looking between Chrysalis and Doug.

“Many, many more next times,” Chrysalis sneers though her fangy smile.

Rainbow Dash snorts. “Yeah, I think I’ll stick with two.” She pulls Doug down, making sure he’s focusing on her.

Lunch arrives on the backs of the servers, just like breakfast, with heaping helpings of fresh salads imported from the Realm of Clouds for the ponies. Celestia continues her tradition of consuming nothing but cakes, this time with a heavy pineapple upside-down cake, pancakes topped with local desert fruits and cream, and a coffee cake that she keeps having to protect from a still-sleepy Luna. Doug has ostracized himself by choosing the local delicacy of blood pudding, deep fried and served next to roasted plantains, a thin-boned fish from the river, and prickly pears. Only Chrysalis sits close to him and, much to his chagrin, forces chunks of pineapple she swipes from Celestia. He steals worried glances at Shining Armor between bites.

If the two being together bothers Shining Armor he doesn’t show it at all, if anything glad for the respite from dealing with the often ornery changeling. He takes the opportunity to snuggle next to Cadance, draping a foreleg across her barrel and rubbing small circles on the slight bulge of her belly. While the pink Princess started as the most slender of the alicorns, only Twilight beats her on weight gained - and a lot of that they attribute to her recent alicornication. She nuzzles her husband between bites, lost in thought and enjoying the time they have together before neither will get any sleep.

Eventually, while everypony is working their way through their second helpings - for Rainbow Dash and Applejack, their third - two ponies from the Crystal Empire take the stage. Twilight Sparkle instantly recognizes the first - an elderly, bespectacled mare with a light lilac coat and cutie mark of a sparkling scroll.

“Hey!” Twilight jabs her brother as she points. “It’s Amethyst Maresbury! She’s the librarian that helped us when we got to the Crystal Empire!”

“Ow!” Shining Armor groans, but jovially, rubbing the dark bruise on his flank. “Oh, yeah! I remember her!” He curiously eyes the other pony as she takes off her cloak, revealing a purple coated unicorn. “But who is that?”

“No…” Princess Celestia draws out in a whisper, staring at the light-blue-mane and the yellow caduceus on her flank. “How can it be?”

Next to her, Princess Luna’s eyes go wide, then narrow suspiciously. “I recognize her, too. Radiant Hope?”

“Who?” Twilight asks, drawing close to the two Sisters.

Celestia speaks in a hushed tone that easily reaches everypony, Doug, and Chrysalis. “Radiant Hope was a student of ours over a thousand years ago. Before that, she alerted us to the atrocities King Sombra was inflicting on their people, the crystal ponies. We defeated Sombra, but he cursed the city to suffer his banishment as well. She was not within the Crystal Empire’s limits at the time; devastated, she returned with us to study. She was a promising student, but one day decided to leave us. We never heard from her again.”

“So she found some sort of Tartarus?” Doug asks, rubbing his hand against his chin as he studies the unicorn. “A place to go where she didn’t age?”

This stops Celestia in her tracks. She glances at Luna, the two trading grim nods. “That is a possibility, though we found no place in that prison. Could she be some kind of replica, merely taking the likeness of the original?” She eyes Chrysalis questioningly.

“She’s not one of mine.” The changeling’s eyes shine white, then she shakes her head. “Nor an umbrum.”

“An umbrella-what-now?” Applejack asks, many of the ponies sharing her confusion.

“Umbrum.” Chrysalis grimaces at the loathsome taste the word evokes. “Vicious creatures born of shadow, the umbrum crushed hope and brought despair to the crystal ponies. At the time it was a disgusting place, one I never wish to see again. Some time later, Princess Amore banished them by crafting the crystal heart. King Sombra took over before we could complete our infiltration, and you know what happened after that.”

“Hard to believe you look so young and beautiful after all those years,” Doug teases with a wry smirk. Chrysalis fixes him with an icy glare. “I’m sure Rarity would appreciate a few tips on how to age gracefully.”

“Hey!” Rarity exclaims, swatting at her curls with an offended air. “Just because I use a few anti-wrinkle creams does not mean I am aging.”

“But what is she doing back? And here?” Luna frowns, again regarding the crystal unicorn warily.

Alira steps forward, introducing the two crystal ponies with a wave of her hoof. “Presenting, on the behalf of the Crystal Empire, Amethyst Maresbury and Radiant Hope. They wish to present their case before things get… heated.” She backs away, leaving the two on stage.

Radiant Hope advances with a guarded smile, her gaze sweeping the crowd of creatures but often returning to the two elder Princesses. She addresses Celestia and Luna first, not with a subservient bow but the curt nod of a student.

“Hello,” she greets in a light and cheerful voice, next meeting Cadance’s smile with one of her own. Her head twists slightly to the side as she inspects the Princess of Love, briefly gaining a far-off look in her eyes. “I greet you all from the Crystal Empire, long may it serve as a beacon of light and hope to all the land.” Her head dips down slightly, a palpable look of loss in her eyes. “But, to our great sorrow and bereavement, it has been both too long and too short a time since the Empire has shined so brightly.”

The heliotrope unicorn bows deeply, respectfully, her voice carrying to everycreature. “The Crystal Empire needs a strong and capable ruler. I request; no, I beg that you consider me as that ruler, for we shall restore the Crystal Empire to its former glory!”

Murmurs erupt from the various creatures. The yaks and dragons look quite unhappy with this possibility, the griffons have their ever-present scowls, and even the Storm King has a look of bemusement. Doug bends his head to see Celestia’s response to what seems like an aberrant request; they wouldn’t put somepony in charge of a country just like that, would they? But the white alicorn merely watches, dredging memories from long ago.

“Radiant Hope!” Amethyst Maresbury admonishes, stomping up to the unicorn with a sharp glare. “That is not how this was supposed to go!” She turns to the creatures, apologetically continuing, “You see, when our rightful ruler, Princess Amore, was… defeated by the evil King Sombra, we lost much of our royal knowledge.”

“He wasn’t-” Radiant Hope growls out, then clamps down on her tongue before she can say any more. She takes a reticent step backward, adopting a neutral facade of a smile.

“Princess Amore?” Twilight asks, inspecting Cadance curiously. “But you’re Princess Mi Amore Cadenza! Any relation?”

“I don’t know,” Cadance admits, glancing at Celestia. She gets a shake of her head in response. “I was an orphan. But even if it was the case, that’s… nearly fifty generations removed. Practically everypony could trace some ancestry to her, if anypony can.”

Twilight nods, unhappy with the answer.

“We were overjoyed when our people were liberated thanks to the heroic efforts of Princess Twilight Sparkle and her family. And, prior to that, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. The Crystal Empire will forever be in your debt.” The elderly crystal pony offers Twilight a respectful bow, much to the embarrassment of Twilight.

“Oh, it was nothing,” Twilight says, stammering as she looks around. “I mean, not nothing, because King Sombra was a huge threat, not just to us but to everypony. And…” She gulps as an orange hoof swats her in the flank. She loses her panicked look, smiling and bowing back. Her words sound practiced, though completely sincere. “Equestria is glad to consider the Crystal Empire as our friends, and long may we live and work together in peace and harmony.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Amethyst Maresbury says just as sincerely, standing back up. Yet now she looks hollow, a shade of her former self as she recounts, “But King Sombra left more than a vacancy in leadership. He left a void in our minds, our memories, a pit so deep and black that even brushing against it reminds us of the atrocities we endured.” Her head bows in pitiful submission. “We hoped somepony would display Hope and Love, qualities necessary to run the Crystal Empire. Somepony who would bravely stand against darkness and fear, the cold that ever threatens to creep in. We have waited patiently, but after six weeks with no sign?” She shakes her head contritely. “The Crystal Empire suffers from the lack, and I fear that suffering will soon spread to all of Equestria, and the world.”

“I would take the crown,” Radiant Hope states, stepping up again. She pleads fervently, “I saw myself becoming Princess!”

“But as eager as Radiant Hope is,” Amethyst Maresbury interrupts solemnly, shaking her head, “there are… doubts as to her legitimacy. Whether she truly has the best interests of the Crystal Empire at heart. ”

“Ah didn’t sense any fiction in Radiant Hope’s story,” Applejack whispers to the herd. “But she is hidin’ somethin’. But it’s the same kinda hidin’ Doug does, or any of the Crystal Ponies for that matter.”

Amethyst Maresbury continues, “We request a wise and capable ruler, one filled with hope and love. I believe the Crystal Ponies would accept Princess Cadance as their provisional ruler. She fought for the Crystal Empire against King Sombra, and her previous experience will prove invaluable.”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Garble shouts from the back, his deep scowl enhanced by his bared teeth. “You Equestrians think you can waltz into a sovereign country, depose its rightful king, and install a dictator of your choice?” He looks around, raising a red claw high. “Anycreature else see this as a blatant power grab?”

“Especially because I was the one who fought,” Chrysalis adds in a low growl.

“Excuse me,” Twilight growls out, her sarcastic streak on full display. Too many of the other creatures are raising their limbs as well. “Rightful king? He enslaved his own people, dominated their minds and controlled their actions! It’s right there in the history books!”

“Books that your Princesses wrote,” Gruff sneers from his standing position.

“Oh?” Sky Beak interjects, scowling at the griffon. “You believe the Princess of the Sun would stoop so low as to rewrite history, yet claim it is impossible when it happens before your very eyes?”

“Cry me a river, seapony!” Gruff wails in mock contrition, miming the action.

Alira bangs her gavel once, but to no avail.

“No wonder the griffons have fallen so low,” Sky Beak states with a solemn shake of his head. “If a river of salt was their demand to look the other way!”

“Why, you!” Gruff shouts, taking to the air and brandishing his talons. Sky Beak matches him with a keening battle cry, neither giving an inch.

Twilight desperately looks around, her own anger giving way to the distraught notion that what should be a peaceful transition of power will devolve into violence. It doesn’t help to see Princess Celestia idly watching with a bemused grin, Rainbow Dash’s eagerness, or Pinkie Pie’s cheering like it’s a buckball game. Fluttershy hunkering down isn’t a surprise, nor Applejack and Rarity standing protectively over her.

But the rest of the creatures treat the two winged delegates as more of a spectacle than a serious threat. She watches instead of intervening with dual forcefields and bubbles of silence, hoping against hope it will not come to blows. Alira keeps banging her gavel while the two posture, hurling barbed insults instead of spears.

Finally, it quiets down enough for Twilight to step in. “Even if, purely for the sake of argument, I concede that King Sombra was the rightful king? Princess Celestia and Luna fought him to a standstill in order to free the Crystal Empire from his tyranny. He was an imminent threat not just to Equestria but to all of Equus! Are you so blind as to think his ambitions would remain contained to the Crystal Empire? Or, had he defeated the Royal Sisters, that he would be content with Equestria?”

“I don’t know, Princess,” Gruff spits out. He turns his good eye to Chrysalis. “Are you blind to your own ambitions? When your chicks need a new spot to roost, will you eye the mountains to the east?” He turns his gaze to the ponies of the Realm of Clouds. “Or to the south?”

“H-hey!” Twilight stammers, nervously glancing at Celestia. But, more importantly, her Sister next to her. “That’s why we’re Princesses instead of Queens, because you can have many Princesses but only one Queen. We can live peacefully together in Harmony!”

“Can you?” Ember interjects from the side. The teal dragon steps up, smaller than the red dragon next to her but no less fierce. “Princess Luna rebelled against Celestia after little more than a hundred years of joint rule. How many decades will it take you?” Before Twilight can respond she continues, “And Princess Cadance has never taken on more responsibility than a figurehead.”

Cadance can barely meet the dragon’s smoldering eyes, but Celestia matches them with a fervor of her own. “While Cadance may not have as visible a position as my own or my Sister’s, she has been invaluable in assisting me during all matters of state. She will be a competent ruler of Equestria or the Crystal Empire.”

Celestia sighs, her words utterly failing to calm the heated arguments among the various delegates. If anything they get more riled up, bickering like hyenas over a fresh carcass.

“So you have groomed a Princess to be just like yourself,” Gruff sneers. The griffon jabs a talon at her like a spear. “You would destroy everything the Crystal Ponies hold dear, just like you did to Griffonstone, and replace it with your own!”

“King Sombra already accomplished that,” Celestia states evenly, not rising to his provocation. “We will reclaim the culture of the Crystal Ponies, not see it given to one who would devour it.”

“That’s as rich as a vein of rubies,” Ember cuts in. “You invited the Devourer of Love into your land and let her have her way with you!”

“You can’t even keep your arguments straight!” Chrysalis jeers, joining the creatures standing with barely restrained fury. Her fangy grin mocks, matching her patronizing tone perfectly. “The Princesses care so much about Pony culture that they are willing to allow a changeling to despoil it? They are so power hungry that they conquer whatever nation they please, yet listen to you prattle on about who should rule?”

“And when you claim that our culture is as toxic as Sombra’s?” Ember belches a controlled burst of flame, a pair of wings coalescing from the smoke that rises to the ceiling. “Will you demand that we take on a Princess of our own? Or will the choice be made for us? My father, Dragon Lord Torch, will pass on the Bloodstone Sceptre in the coming years. Will you help ‘guide’ a dragon who is more to your liking?”

“Equestria has a long-standing policy of non-interference,” Celestia claims, standing regally and turning to address the rest of the creatures. “There was no invasion force sent to the Crystal Empire, merely a diplomatic envoy, no more than we would send to anynation.”

“Of course, you would never invade a sovereign country.” Gruff laughs, sharp and mocking. “Only assassinate their rulers and twist their second-in-commands to betray them!” The Storm King’s head snaps to Celestia from his lounging position. “But if they just so happen to ask you to send them a princess to rule over them?” He sneers once again, pointedly looking at Twilight. “Or are you claiming that King Sombra is the only ruler who can mind control their subjects?”

“The use of Malevolence is strictly controlled,” Twilight states evenly, despite every bone in her body shouting at her hypocrisy and half-truths. She had used the Want-It-Need-It spell, and how many other magics did she know, to say nothing of Celestia and Chrysalis? “And prohibited in all but the most extreme cases.”

“Oh?” Gruff’s eye gleams. “Extreme cases, hmm? Such as a tyrannical despot? A king not dancing to your tune?”

Prince Rutherford finally gets to his hooves, his bellow enough to silence everycreature else. “All miss point! Crystal Empire take sacred Yak stomping ground! Yaks have been stomping perfect circle for a thousand years! That ancestral Yak territory!”

“Oh, bother,” Twilight groans, holding her hooves to her head and slumping over.

“What’s that?” Applejack asks, confused. She lays down next to Twilight.

“Remember when we got to the Crystal Empire?” Most of the ponies nod uncertainly. “The entire city was lower than when it banished. That’s clear evidence the Yaks have been using it. They don’t have a clearcut case for abandonment, because the Crystal Empire didn’t mean to leave, except the ruler at the time did mean to cause the city to leave, and…”

“It’s okay, Sugarcube,” Applejack reassures, patting the lavender alicorn as she cowers behind her hooves. “Ah’m sure it’ll all work out.”

Ember takes to the air, as does Garble, to get a better vantage point to sneer at Prince Rutherford. “You think that is Yak territory? The dragons have been roosting in the Frozen North long before you showed up!”

“Hah! Yak not see dragon roost in centuries! Dragon lie!”

“Do we?” Ember bellows, shooting another gout of flame into the air. “There’s a reason we don’t come to a place as balmy as Yakyakistan any more! Dragons take their eggs to as frigid a place we can find, where only the strongest of eggs survive!”

Prince Rutherford gasps, flipping his hair up so he can better glare at Ember. “Puny dragon take that back, or Yak declare war! Raagh!”

Prince Rutherford and his yak companions shout, stomp, and generally destroy anything in hooves’ reach. The ponies flinch, ears splayed back, only the calm and unflappable presence of the elder alicorns keeping them from panicking.

“I’m surprised you listen to this nonsense,” Twilight remarks to Celestia as Doug and Chrysalis walk over. They watch the destruction, Celestia bemused and Doug with a long sigh. “This is a waste of time. No, worse, because they might actually choose something wrong, when we know the right course of action.”

“Indeed,” Chrysalis adds, scowling. “If any in the hive dissented so insolently? I would have a new husk disposer, if they were lucky.”

“What would you have me do?” Celestia asks patiently, no malice in her voice. “Each of them believes they have a claim over the land in question. Would you prefer they decide this by a contest of tooth and claw?”

“Well, no,” Twilight concedes. “Fighting should be our last resort.” One eye squints before she noticeably brightens. “You have to let them express their views. So you get them to talk it out, realize the error of their ways, and then everycreature can live in peace and harmony!”

Chrysalis snorts, Luna quickly suppresses her guffaw, while Celestia merely smiles knowingly. Chrysalis doesn’t counter Twilight’s point like she expects, instead demanding, “You think they will wear each other down and ignore Equestria’s expansion?” Behind her, the dragons, griffons, and yaks are practically on top of each other, yelling and inches away from coming to blows. “They may not state it outright, but they seek any avenue that would slow or stop our rising power.”

“Rising power?” Twilight asks, cocking her head to the side with a slight frown. “What are you talking about?”

Chrysalis regards her dubiously. “In a decade, Equestria has gone from one Princess, tied down with the concerns of her little ponies, to four. Celestia was worried enough about their reaction to not go with you to the Crystal Empire.”

“I-is that true?” Twilight stammers with an astonished look at Celestia. She gets a grim nod in return.

“I had every faith you would succeed,” Celestia replies, offering her former student a slim smile. “And you surpassed even my high expectations.”

“Regardless,” the beneficiary of such success cuts in as the two alicorns trade fond nuzzles. “In seven years there will be five more mature alicorns, each as capable as their dam. A fifth of Equestrian mares are pregnant, and I suspect next year shall be similar. We are quintupling our brood, stably! If there was an uneasy peace before? One might not think much of water, as fluid and pliant as Equestria has been, yet even basalt yields when it freezes. They grasp at any straw they can to delay us, lest they see their own influence wane in comparison.”

“You said us,” Twilight says with a smile, brushing against the changelings’ ebony withers with her own.

Chrysalis looks down, initially with disdain, at the contact. “Do not push your luck, pony.” Her dour expression slowly fades, even as Twilight fails to remove herself. “It is a useful arrangement. We would be a grub not to take advantage of it.”

“That’s right,” Twilight says, beaming. This draws a curious glance from the changeling. She merely thinks, staring up at the ceiling.

“So we can intervene now?” Doug blithely asks Celestia as Prince Rutherford comes dangerously close to stomping on Ember. She shoves him, hard enough to force the massive yak back a step. He growls, covering her with spit as the two lock limbs and try to wrest the other off their legs.

“If you wish,” Celestia responds, enjoying his quick rub of her ear as he stands.

“Do you all care nothing about the Crystal Ponies?” Doug shouts during a very short moment of silence. It’s enough to get everycreature to quiet down, if briefly, and stare at him, still on edge. “Do we care what they want?”

“They are a member of the Council,” Ember concedes, but returns just as fiery, “But we’re not going to recognize just anycreature, especially anypony, as the rightful ruler! It should be a dragon ruling! Dragons love crystals, and you have a whole city built from them!”

“You can’t eat our homes!” Amethyst Maresbury calls out, distraught. Radiant Hope matches her with pleading looks in their eyes.

“Dragons might as well eat pony homes,” Prince Rutherford bellows as Garble reluctantly passes Gruff a bag of gems. “Pony homes on sacred Yak ground!”

“Dragons do have the oldest claim,” Gruff states. He sits back and counts the gems he just got.

Doug shakes his head as he stands, drawing their attention. “Just because you have an old claim doesn’t mean it’s yours, and just because you don’t have an old claim doesn’t mean you can’t ever get it. How else would we expand, if we could never move past our place of birth? Competition is a fact of life. Conquests happen.”

He meets the Storm King’s eyes, locking him in a brief staring contest. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself and standing straight.

“But that doesn’t mean you should trample on the people, especially the innocents. Did any of the Crystal Ponies want this? No! It was their tyrant, their dictator, who decided this. Who brought this curse on all of them. When we went to the Crystal Empire? We knew it was a possibility we would face this tyrant. And when he refused to release them, and tried to enslave us as well?”

Doug shakes his head, a solemn, repeated no, pulling away from the Storm King to focus on the others. The Storm King steeples his hands under his chin, curious daggers boring into the human.

“You all know what happened next. What do we do now? I believe you are ignoring a crucial factor.” Doug turns to Radiant Hope. “Do the Crystal Ponies want you as their leader?”

“Um,” Radiant Hope starts, glancing sideways at Amethyst Maresbury. “We… didn’t exactly ask them.”

“Then, I think the answer is easy. You let them decide.” Doug receives blank stares from all around, including the ponies. “Vote on it.” Silence. “You know, democracy?”

Garble breaks the silence with a confused scratch of his head. “What is… democracy?”

Twilight pipes up, though she is just as confused. “The word itself breaks down into demo-, which means ‘the people’, and -cracy, which means ‘rule’. Rule of the people?”

“Hah!” Garble laughs, slapping his thigh. He bends over, barely able to keep standing. “How would that possibly work? You would let a weak dragon tell you what to do? No! You have the strongest and the most cunning rule, and all dragons obey!”

Doug frowns. “But what if the strongest dragon isn’t the most cunning? Just because you’re strong in one area doesn’t mean you are strong in another.”

“Careful, Doug,” Twilight cautions, giving him a look that clearly says ‘sit down and shut up’. “Dragons are thaumic in nature. The boosts their magic gives them means the strongest dragon very often is the most cunning and the most intelligent. Though cunning and intelligence doesn’t mean they will be friendly to Equestria.”

“So you would interfere!” Garble asserts with a furious gaze at Twilight, snorting thick clouds of smoke.

“But…” Doug continues, perplexed, still looking at the rest of the creatures. “None of you are democracies, or republics?”

Celestia points around the room. Each nods in agreement as she describes them. “The Griffons used to be a hereditary monarchy, though now they are closer to a military junta. Dragons are a martial dictatorship. Realm of Clouds, oligarchic with three major corporations. Changelings, a ravenous hive.” She winks at Chrysalis, who smirks back. “The Yaks, the Hippogriffs, Arimaspis, all monarchs. The Storm Realm, despotic empire.”

“More of a feudal empire,” the Storm King interjects.

“Perhaps,” Celestia concedes. She turns back to Doug. “Equestria itself is an irenic monarchy, with lower stations appointed by divine fiat. We do not elect our mayors and nobles; their stations are determined by their cutie marks.”

“Really?” Doug asks, mostly at himself. “How did I not notice this before?”

“Because we do not celebrate their succession as widely as you must?” Celestia muses, a hoof at her chin. “When Twilight ascended there was a day of feasting before ponies went back to their lives. The wedding of Shining Armor and Cadance, as well as our own, were the largest celebrations inducting new members of royalty in recent memory. And even they passed after a day.”

“Okay, so, maybe this is the next big experiment.” Doug nods to himself, then turns to address the room. “Everycreature write down a summary of their argument for why they should be voted for. Then, everypony in the Crystal Empire who has their cutie mark gets to vote by ranking their choices. Then you tally the votes, and if you don’t have a majority winner... well, there are a couple of ways you can decide, but the fairest is-”

“Stop,” Ember says, holding up her claw. He does. “Is this a scheme to get a pony in charge?”

“Scheme?” Doug’s face scrunches up. “No. It lets the Crystal Ponies decide who they want in charge, and it’ll be up to each of you to prove your case to them. If they choose a pony, it’s only because you aren’t strong enough. Voting is just a way to find the most acceptable candidate. Now, there are different kinds of acceptable, like the person with a plurality of votes, or finding a condorcet winner among a number of choices, but-”

“Hah!” Ember interrupts again, smirking as her claws rest on her hips. “If all we have to do is prove the dragons are the strongest? This will be easy!” One claw strokes at her chin as Twilight levitates her and the others pieces of paper. “Now, should we demand half of their buildings as tribute? No, too many. But we’re strong enough to deserve it! How to show them? Urgh, what’s the best way to get a flame on a piece of paper?” She stares at it, nearly pulling the paper in half as bits of fire curl out of her open maw.

“Don’t think that we will just go along with whoever you choose,” Gruff spits out, glaring at Doug.

“It’s not us choosing,” Doug states, working to keep his calm. “It’s up to the Crystal Ponies. They are the ones who will live with the choice. It could be one of us, or one of you, or whoever they choose!” He turns to Amethyst Maresbury, ignoring the disgruntled huff of the griffon. “Were there any other candidates you came across? Should we give them a chance to step forward?”

“That would be unnecessary,” Amethyst Maresbury says with a shake of her head. “Radiant Hope was the only one who volunteered.” The unicorn nods, unhappy at not being chosen outright, but a likely frontrunner being a Crystal Empire native. “We were afraid we would need to pick a ruler by lot.”

“That’s certainly one way to do it,” Doug says, keeping his grimace from showing. “Well, we can leave a spot for the Crystal Ponies to write in whoever they want, in addition to the choices ahead of them.” He raises an eyebrow as Chrysalis takes a sheet of paper. “I thought you gave up ruling.”

“I gave up being Queen,” Chrysalis states without any shame at her pedantry. “Here, I would be Empress.”

“Of course,” Doug deadpans. “On a more serious note, I heard you were communicating with your changelings back home?”

“More serious?” Chrysalis sneers at Doug. “I am completely serious. I helped save the Crystal Empire, did I not? I have just as much, if not more, reason than Cadance.” She grins, writing as much on her paper before covertly glancing back and forth.

Nocreature appears to be paying attention to her, all working on their papers. Every so often one of the Yaks rears up in frustration, slamming down and rattling quills and inkpots. Gruff shakes a talon while the other griffon does the work. Ember and Garble keep snatching the paper from each other, the whole thing quickly becoming a scribbled mess. The Storm King, having written a single line, leans back and casually watches the dragons squabble.

Chrysalis hesitates, not wanting to give away her capabilities. She whispers to Doug, “Not merely at home, but to any properly equipped changeling across Equus. Why?”

Doug crouches down, sharing her desire for secrecy. “Well, to speed this up and not need to fly a letter across Equestria. Can you do that?”

“We can.” Chrysalis looks around at what everycreature is writing. Cadance, Shining Armor, and Twilight are similarly gathered, having written more than triple the amount of anycreature else and working to pare it down. “I suppose you wish to send these papers? I can also do audio and video.”

“Nah, I don’t think we need them giving speeches,” Doug says, motioning to the others. “Just the short blurb. We would need to print out a ballot for everypony in the Crystal Empire, instructions for them to fill it out, and some way to show everycreature this is legitimate.”

“Legitimate?” Chrysalis huffs. “Are you sure you wish to go to all this trouble? It would be easier to win a brawl than an election. But, if you wish.”

It takes some time for everycreature to finish their statements. Most grumble about this being a waste of time, but they eventually turn them in to Doug. Cadance ends up being the last to finish, mostly since Twilight is still agonizing over word choices. Cadance has to peel the paper from her hooves as Shining Armor holds her back.

Chrysalis’ horn flares, and a lime green changeling pops up as a disembodied head in front of them. Chrysalis explains their intentions, then again to a gathering of crystal ponies. The concept passes easily enough. The only thing left to do now is wait for a winner.

“Oohh,” Twilight Sparkle moans, hugging herself as she rocks back and forth. Her mane starts to frazzle, loose ends splitting off and curling up. “Did we do enough? What will they think? I’ve never written a speech for an election before. Did we talk about the right topics? Did we talk about the wrong topics?”

Cadance and Shining Armor look entirely nonplussed, having seen this routine more than once before, and that’s not even counting when Twilight was just a filly. Doug drops down, his friendly smile ignored by the hyperventilating alicorn.

“But there’s so much to tell!” Twilight looks up at Doug as he starts massaging her withers, then at her old foalsitter. “You’re kind, caring, and amazing! And it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful!” Cadance grins at the compliments, nuzzling her husband. “There was a lot we had to pack in, but-”

“You ran on for five pages,” Chrysalis states sourly. “After the first page I just read every other word.” She casually flips her cobalt locks back as Twilight gapes. “No need to thank me.”

“Thank you?!” Twilight bellows, leaping to her hooves and knocking Doug back. She fumes, clenches her teeth and stamps a hoof.

“You’re welcome,” Chrysalis says with a self-satisfied smile and slight nod of her head, ignoring the outburst.

“But, but, but, you could have ruined everything!” Twilight spins to Cadance, the pink alicorn attempting to hide her chuckle with a hoof. “You might not become the ruler of the Crystal Empire! Even though your very flank shows that’s what you’re meant to do! How are you so flippant about this?”

“Twily,” Shining Armor cuts in, shaking his head with a wide grin. “You listened to Chrysalis read your statement. Did it sound like she skipped any words?”

“Um,” Twilight starts, recalling how the changeling recited each creature’s statement to the changeling assigned to maintain the railroad to the Crystal Empire. She hunkers down a little, her anger fading. “No?”

“She was just teasing you. A joke.” Shining Armor ruffles his little sister’s mane, smirking at her contrite expression. Chrysalis looks confused as Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash offer her a hoof to bump, eventually catching on and lightly tapping them.

“Speaking of jokes,” Tempest Shadow mutters as she reads the Storm King’s statement. Her eyes narrow further and further until mere pinpricks of black are visible. Sparks fly from her horn, uncontained, as her fury builds. She doesn’t flinch when the paper ignites, nopony sure whether from her burning gaze or from the sparks from her horn, and she hurls the flaming debris to the floor before stomping it out.

“My liege,” she barely gets out through gritted teeth, doing her best to repeat the spontaneous combustion with a furious glare at the reclining Storm King. He doesn’t seem to care, or be paying any attention to her at all. She takes a deep breath, burying the anger under what must double as the blast shielding around a warship’s reactor room. “Did you… did you not even attempt to persuade the Crystal Ponies of your… superiority?” She can’t help but spit out the last word, as much as she made it through the rest without being overtly insulting.

“What?” the Storm King replies, either oblivious or unconcerned with Tempest’s fury. “That?” He motions to the ashes underneath her hoof. “That doesn’t matter.” He returns to scratching his back with the Staff of Sacanas, the wooden shaft able to slip inside his dark gray cuirass. He grunts in pleasure, back arching to expose more of his white fur.

“How can you say it doesn’t matter?!” Tempest scowls, stomping up to the relaxing Storm King. “If we win this election, not only will we have one more ally, the Equestrians will have one less! And you think that saying ‘I’m ready to power up, crash and bash, and be the biggest, baddest, boogaloo’ would do that!?”

With a powerful kick the Storm King launches himself up, going from laying on his back to performing some of the absolute worst dance moves imaginable. He flails about, whipping his arms forward and back, and mimicking scratching a record player by raking the staff against the floor, all while he belts out,

“Party creatures in the place to be!
This is what you’ve all been waitin’ to see!
Electric boogaloo! The ultimate show!”

Twilight Sparkle snorts as the Storm King drops to the floor, one arm holding out the staff while the other props himself up, spinning in circles with his legs suspended in the air. She elbows Pinkie Pie in the side, barely able to hold in her laughter as she remarks, “Gee, I think I dance better than that!”

“Um,” Pinkie Pie says, raising an eyebrow and gently removing Twilight’s elbow from her. She goes back to swaying to the beat of his hooves against the floor as he swaps to a series of rapid spins and jumps. “He’s doing that dance perfectly. And that’s a dance for ponies. It takes some serious skill to be that bad.”

“Wait, really?” Twilight asks, perplexed. She goes back to watching the Storm King perform what is possibly the wackiest exercise routine she has ever seen. He looks utterly ridiculous, and yet at the same time with such a lack of self-consciousness. And, now that she thinks about it, for a creature of his mass and wearing armor? You would have to be quite strong and dexterous to balance on one arm like that, or kick your legs that high. She almost envies the foal-like joy he radiates, almost only because she would have to be so silly in order to claim it herself.

“Your Excellency,” Tempest Shadow says, interrupting a seemingly never-ending interlude of ‘I believe in the beat!’ that he punctuates with beating the staff against the floor. “As much as I share your love of pony dance numbers from twenty years ago, it is not something the Crystal Empire would respond to! And I don’t see how any of this will help me get my horn back!”

Raikou stops in a heartbeat, the only motion in the room Pinkie Pie doing some sort of worm dance along the floor. “Temp,” he starts, one hand on the Staff while the other drapes across her back. “Can I call you that?” Before she can respond he goes on, “You see, it doesn’t matter if I win or lose. And it’s the same reason that none of the ponies here respect you.”

“What did you just say?” Tempest Shadow demands, suddenly on edge, ignoring Twilight’s muffled objection.

He musses her mane, his hand slipping lower along her neck. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

In an instant the Storm King’s large hand wraps around her throat, fingers hooking just under her jaw. He casually lifts her off the ground with one arm, his friendly smile boring into her. She can still breathe, if barely, his hand not crushing her windpipe like he easily could. Her fury never dies, even smothered under his iron grasp, forelegs clutching at his bracers as she struggles to break his grip.

“I could repair your horn right now,” Raikou says brightly, his cheerful tone not disguising the ruthlessness behind his words. At Tempest’s disbelieving stare he casually maneuvers the Staff of Sacanas inside her muzzle. Her body jerks, her mouth opening wide as she tries to evade, then freezes as he presses the sharp tip against the roof of her mouth. It doesn’t stop her from glaring daggers at him, her horn sparking.

The ponies are similarly shell-shocked as a faint trickle of red runs down the blue crystal. Twilight can barely raise her hoof, much less open her mouth and shout at him to stop.

“Is that what you want?” he demands, now as harsh as when he summarily executed Strife after his previous second-in-command betrayed him. “A new horn, made of crystal? You know, I could even get it to come out of your old one. That’d be a pretty good look, don’t you think?”

Tempest can barely shake her head no, cutting herself against the tip lodged in her mouth to do so.

With one smooth motion he pulls the Staff away and roughly casts her to the ground. She skids along until coming to an abrupt stop at Twilight’s hooves.

She lays there, crumpled, as he towers over her, calculating exactly how close he would need to step before she could lash out and take down a leg, and then clamber on top of him. Yet he never steps close enough.

“That’s the first reason.” He smiles, but it’s a cold, harsh smile, devoid of happiness. “The ponies of the Crystal Empire, and everywhere else for that matter, will never respect somecreature unless that creature proves themselves. You think winning an election will be enough? Hah!” He sneers, shaking his head. “As soon as you try to get them to do something they don’t want, they will find somepony new. That’s why the shock-and-awe armada is so important. And why you just accepting the Princesses’ ‘surrender’ will never work. Because they haven’t seen your power. They haven’t seen how far you will go. They need that demonstration, if only to prove how serious you are.” He cocks his head as he stares down at her. “Are you serious, Temp?”

“Yes,” she growls out, wishing he would drop half a hoof length closer.

Except he just straightens up. “Good. And the other reason?” He smirks, a bit of light returning to his eyes and smile. He turns and winks at the alicorns. “I have a plan.”

And with that he returns to his seat, lounging as if nothing happened.

Twilight Sparkle tentatively crouches down, staring at the broken-horned unicorn still laying on the ground. She hesitates, unable to speak. This… this is what the Princess of Friendship does, right? The doubt builds inside her, every second spent waiting making it harder and harder to stretch her hoof forward.

What would Celestia do? She would reach her hoof forward in Friendship, not to a pony who wants to be friends, but to an enemy. And how much harder is it to do so, but how much more worthwhile!

And when she finally does reach forward with a friendly smile, Tempest bats it away with a scowl.

“I need neither your help nor your pity,” she rasps out, spitting out a glob of blood as she gets to her hooves. She rubs at her throat, massaging for a brief moment as she swallows. “He taught me a lesson, and one I needed to hear.” She regards Twilight with naked hatred before leaving.

“Wait!” Twilight calls as Tempest storms off. The unicorn turns, regarding her dubiously as Twilight formulates her thoughts. Her fellow Equestrians murmuring about the Storm King’s outburst doesn’t help matters either, making it difficult to concentrate. “Y-your horn. Can we help?”

Tempest fixes her with such vitriol that Twilight momentarily shies away. She shifts her gaze to Celestia, her venom doubling. “You had your chance.”

Twilight can only stare as Tempest Shadow leaves without a backwards glance. She… she failed? She barely notices when Celestia steps next to her and drapes a comforting wing over her side.

“It is alright, Twilight,” Celestia lilts, her voice a soothing balm. The younger alicorn merely sniffs. “Some merely take longer than others. That does not mean we stop trying, or never start trying in the first place.”

“I just wish there was more I could do to help.” Twilight sighs heavily, running over the brief encounters she has had with Tempest and wondering what would be the best way to win over the prodigal unicorn.

She is broken from her musing by Doug coming up between them. “Are we going to do nothing about him?” He doesn’t need to point for them to know exactly who he is talking about.

“For assault? Battery?” Celestia grimly shakes her head. “He chose a harsh method to teach a valuable lesson. One Tempest will not easily forget. While we may treat all others with politeness and deference to their preferences, true respect is reserved for those who deserve it. What is he doing?”

Twilight considers for a long moment. Sometimes she wishes Celestia would just explain her intuitions. But she knows the lessons better, they get ingrained deeper, if it is her figuring it out. She finally ventures, “He believes that deep respect should be afforded to those with strength and power.”

“And?”

Twilight frowns. “He is displaying that power to us, in the same way that we show others love in the way that we wish to be loved. The question is, how shall we respond?”

“That question will have to wait,” Chrysalis announces from a glowing hologram of the lime green changeling. “The results are in!”

“Already?” Doug asks, joining the other creatures. He chuckles to himself. “Well, I guess you didn’t have to wait two weeks for all the mail-in votes.” He glances at Radiant Hope and Amethyst Maresbury. “You two voted, right?”

They nod, watching as Alira reads off the results.

“In last place, with a single vote. The Storm King.”

Raikou absently twirls a finger in the air.

“Better’n Ah thought,” Applejack remarks to Rainbow Dash, getting a snicker in return.

“With less than five votes each, for sixth and fifth place, Prince Rutherford of the Yaks and Ember of the Dragons.”

“What?” Ember bellows, swiping at the air. “I knew this was a waste of time!” Behind her Garble nods, crossing his arms and snorting twin jets of flame. Prince Rutherford has a similar reaction, if a bit more stomp-intensive.

Alira offers Radiant Hope a placating smile. “In fourth, we have Radiant Hope.”

The unicorn sighs, disappointed.

“In third, we have a write-in for Twilight Sparkle.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Spike congratulates, shooting her a thumbs-up.

“Thanks, Spike,” Twilight says, leaning down to nuzzle his spiky fronds. She can’t help but smile as Cadance and Chrysalis size each other up.

“Well,” Shining Armor says, puffing his chest out. “Looks like no matter which of you wins, I get to be Emperor Armor.”

“Sorry, love,” Cadance says, tittering. “But I think I’ll keep my title of Princess, thank you.”

“Not me,” Chrysalis retorts. “I would be an Empress.” She crouches down slightly to rub her head against his, drawing a low moan. “Which would you want to be? Emperor or Prince?”

“Um,” Shining Armor says, clearly conflicted as Cadance comes up on his other side. He tries giving them each wide smiles, but their expressions turn sour every time he looks away from them. “I, uh…”

“The winner,” Alira announces, saving Shining Armor’s flank, “beating out Princess Cadance to become the Crystal Empire’s choice for their next leader, is-”

“What?” Cadance exclaims, wide eyes going past Shining Armor to stare at the exultant changeling. She cannot believe the results, that this imposter could have defeated her in winning the hearts of the Crystal Ponies!

“Yes!” Chrysalis screams in victory, throwing her hooves in the air. “Soon, I will unlock the power of the Crystal Heart, and all of its love will be mine!”

She blinks, noticing that she is not in fact alone, as she always is when communicating with her brood in this manner, but surrounded by a good number of creatures who look entirely less than thrilled at this revelation.

“I-I mean, to study!” Chrysalis offers Twilight a fangy grin. It nearly gets the lavender alicorn to break and join her in smiling. “You know! So we can, um, make… more?”

“The winner,” Alira repeats, turning and looking down, “with a clear majority of votes, is the Brave and Glorious Spike!”

Spike locks in place, his mind running in every direction at once. Him?! How could they have chosen him? He’s just a glorified mail-pony! Sure, he likes to pretend that he is the one coming up with the words and phrases that Twilight dictates to him. But can he actually do as good a job as a Princess?

“Hah!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, the first pony to break from their astonishment. “Looks like having a giant statue of you in their city helped out, huh?” She claps the stunned dragon on the back, then has to catch him when he topples over. She nervously rights him, having to keep him steady with a hoof.

“Indeed!” Rarity says, appraising Spike in a way she rarely has before. She can barely keep from doing a tittering dance as examples of miniature suits race through her mind. “You’ll be adorable, all sparkly and beautiful! Just don’t get too large from chewing all the scenery, yes?”

Garble rubs a claw against his chin, appraising the still-stunned Spike. “You know, I did say I wanted a dragon in charge.”

“The Griffons are happy to support the dragon,” Gruff says, flipping a bit to himself.

“If that is the case,” Alira says, getting a flippant hand wave from the Storm King, a shrug from Iron Grip, and an infuriated stomp from Prince Rutherford. “Effective immediately, the Brave and Glorious Spike shall be the ruler of the Crystal Empire!”

“All hail Emperor Spike!” chorus the ponies, the other creatures joining in. All Spike can do is stare at his claws, dumbfounded.

The easternmost barn on Sweet Apple Acres looks much like the other barns that sporadically dot the apple orchards. Plain, unpainted wooden walls made from second-grade apple wood (their finest makes barrels and repairs to the main two houses). A red roof with sturdy hexagonal shingles nailed down in strips. The large double doors, sliding, face west and are currently left open in a way that might seem accidental, if anypony was to look. Yet the truth is more secretive than sinister; the various herds the changelings belong to might know they are leaving, but they don’t know exactly where they go or what they do. Old habits die hard and all that.

A solitary changeling makes her way from one red-studded canopy to another, staying mostly concealed and off the main path. The sun sporadically glints off her light blue chitin, pale pink wings currently folded inside her darker pink elytra. She scans this way and that, never ceasing, a cautious advance likely unwarranted but instilled from years of practice.

“Hail, comrade!” booms Pharynx from a hidden alcove as she silently slips inside the barn. The dark green changeling snaps a hoof to his muscle-bound chest, two loud raps echoing in one of the elite guard’s brasher salutes. At the same time he crouches, ready to pounce if the proper reply isn’t received.

“Hey, comrade,” Ocellus replies in a subdued whisper. She nervously scratches her left foreleg against her right, an infiltrator’s masked greeting. She never cares for the flamboyant displays the elite guards prefer, finding them just as intimidating as they are intended to be. After all, a changeling who announces their presence so loudly has to be able to back it up.

Pharynx’s gaze quickly turns back to the open door, waiting for the verdant remainder of their small clique. He stands at attention, ever on duty, even when the Everfree Forest isn’t even in sight.

“Hey, Pharynx?” Ocellus ventures, drawing a brief glare from the elder warrior. “I-I wanted to ask. Maybe after we’re done?”

“Yes?” Pharynx snaps, frustrated at her timidity. “What?”

“Could you teach me some of your, um, favorite hoof techniques?” Ocellus gulps as she steals a glance to the south and the forest that lays beyond the orchards.

“Ah!” Pharynx bellows, straightening up even more. His scowl morphs into a fangy grin, reminiscent of their illustrious leader. “Thinking of taking a more active role in defending your hive?” He resolutely nods. “A glorious pursuit! Most admirable!” He ceases his praise as a tall, light green changeling walks in. His hoof thumps against his chest twice. “Hail, comrade!”

“Hail, comrades,” Thorax replies in his thin, wheedling voice. His hoof thumps against his chest twice, yet fails to get the resounding echo of his brother. “What’cha talking about?”

“Defensive techniques,” Pharynx responds brusquely. “Assuming flight isn’t an option. And a battle morph is unavailable. Or too expensive.” His querying glance gets a nod from Ocellus. He rubs his taut belly with an unadulterated grimace, as though any hindrance to being at peak performance is to be tolerated only under the most extreme of circumstances and forcibly removed otherwise.

“Ooh, yeah,” Thorax says, lovingly stroking the more prominent bulge of his belly. “I’d hate for anything to happen to this little filly!” He sighs happily, then twists his head to look at Ocellus. “Do you know who from Bravo clique is coming? I heard they were splintering after Cercus got tapped to go to Klugetown.”

“Hey!” admonishes Pharynx. When Thorax doesn’t look appropriately cowed he continues with a harsh scowl, “That’s poor opsec, soldier! You can’t leak critical information like another clique’s circumstances! We can’t reveal information under duress that we don’t know!”

“Leak?” Thorax says, raising his eyebrows as he pointedly scans around the room. Ocellus returns a blank look. “Who are we hiding from? It’s not like everyling won’t know.”

“T-that’s true,” Ocellus stammers. Old habits die hard, and even the tiniest scrap of the former infiltrator’s plans being revealed sets her forelegs quivering. Or just the fact that she knew all the members of Bravo clique when she was only ‘supposed’ to know the leader. “I told Kevin she could join us.”

“Urgh,” Pharynx grunts out, rubbing at his head in the vain hope it might forestall the migraine. “At least I won’t have to worry about her trying to ‘improve the ambiance’ with pretty vines and or anything ridiculous like that. Not every room has to be fit for breeding!”

“That doesn’t stop Doug,” Ocellus claims with a grim smile, rubbing at her belly.

“Another one?” exclaims Thorax happily, kneeling down. “Did it work?” He smiles, bending low and resting his ear on her belly. “Con-” His joy fades as he listens, pulling away slowly. “Um. Congratulations.”

“What?” demands Pharynx, immediately concerned. “Is something wrong?”

Ocellus shies down. “N-not wrong. But she’s not a foal.” She twists away, avoiding any eye contact.

“Ah, yes,” Pharynx states, losing his imperious demeanor. “The mission Quee…” He stalls on the word, obviously disgruntled with the change in title. “...Chief Architect Chrysalis gave all of us. Ingratiate ourselves to the ponies in every way possible, becoming invaluable and inseparable allies and partners. The first corollary being that bearing their highly-valued young will cultivate favor quickly and intensely.”

“A-and I’m not fulfilling that mission,” Ocellus whimpers. She stays twisted away even when Thorax runs his hoof over her back. “Even the special dispensation I got from Chief Architect Chrysalis to keep trying just made things worse! They’re all going to think I’m just in it for the changelings! I’m going to be the one changeling cast out for being a failure!”

“You’re not a failure,” Thorax reassures, stroking harder and hoping the extra pressure will help. It doesn’t seem to make a difference. “You’ve been helping out around the farm, and they like that! I-I’m sure it will happen!”

“Hmm,” Pharynx mutters. He stares at the floor, his features slowly tightening as he considers. “Would more time at the Abattoir take your mind off this and thus alleviate the problem?”

“Come on, Pharynx,” Thorax wheedles, only getting a contemptuous scowl in return. “She needs more than a distraction!”

“Agreed!” Pharynx frowns as Thorax huffs. “What? You heard the Chief’s message. She’s not getting kicked out. She just has to be useful. She can be useful working. She is useful working. I don’t see what the problem is.” He turns his head up with an aloof sneer.

“The problem is that you’re not taking her feelings into consideration,” Thorax growls defensively. It wouldn’t be the first time the two turned their philosophical disagreements into a physical confrontation, even in their new forms, and he can feel his body gearing up to tumble.

“I-it’s okay, Thorax,” Ocellus interrupts, quick to step in. “He’s just trying to help.” She turns to Pharynx as Thorax grudgingly sighs. “But I don’t think more time working will help, because we don’t have enough to do.”

“Ah, yes. A lack of product.” Pharynx nods, short and sharp. “Perhaps another venture into the Everfree Forest? Unless you wish to make more units.”

“You saw how worried Fluttershy was when we came out with that cockatrice,” Thorax counters. “Even if-”

“-But we took the proper precautions!” Pharynx speaks over Thorax, ignoring his heated grunt. “She didn’t fuss after she saw we gouged the eyes out, did she?”

“No,” Thorax returns, short breaths failing to control his temper. “But she still cried, like she knew his mother.”

The two changelings stare at each other, fangs baring and tongues occasionally flicking out. If either hisses a challenge they would tackle each other, Thorax’s slightly greater size a close match for his broodmate’s skill and practice.

“It’s, just,” Ocellus says, her voice enough to distract the two from their obstinance. “Making those preservation units tires me out. It’s easier if we work together, but I know you’re worried about taxing yourselves.”

“Don’t remind me,” Pharynx says icily, only to reach a hoof back to his elytra and pull a small black scarab from the purple wing-cover. He sighs as it buzzes again. “Speaking of taxing.”

“Again?” Thorax says with a considerable amount of worry laced with curiosity. He pulls out a scarab of his own, as does Ocellus. “Ready.”

The three changelings concentrate as they set their scarabs on the floor. A green glow comes from each that coalesces into a ring above the three, an image of their Chief Architect inside. She grins as she looks down at her three changelings, opening her mouth.

Before Chrysalis can get a word out a masculine voice pops up from behind her. She looks incredibly unenthused as the white-furred Storm King pops up next to her, leaning into her head to stare at them. “Hey, that’s way cooler than mine! I’ve got to use this magic pool of water. The connection is horrible, and I can never tell if it’s on or what direction I’m supposed to be looking! Once, I went through my entire battle plan, only to find out that my lieutenants couldn’t see what I was drawing. Then the spell dropped. We still won, of course, but have you ever had that sinking feeling when you see half your fleet peel off in the wrong direction?”

“No,” Chrysalis nearly spits out, “because my forces are not commanded by a cretin.” She tries to push him away, only for the entire view to shift upwards as if the transmitter is being picked up and twisted this way and that. They see brief glimpses of the ponies from Ponyville, a good number of other creatures, and a rapid transition between the floor and ceiling. Thorax gags at the change in perspective, the other two faring little better. “Put that down!”

“But it’s so cool! I just want to-”

“No!” Chrysalis’ scowling visage reasserts itself, if briefly. “Is Sweetie Belle there?”

“No, Chief!” Pharynx belts out, tapping his chest twice.

“That’s Chief Architect,” Chrysalis corrects mirthlessly, only for her image to change to the Storm King’s. “Stop it!” she calls, the whole thing shaking. “If I promise to make you your own set, will you leave me alone?!”

Without warning the view spins rapidly, far faster than any ‘ling could rotate. Ocellus shies down and covers her eyes while Thorax drops to a knee, holds a hoof against his chest and controls his breathing. Pharynx stands straight, clenching his stomach, while a green aura surrounds the image. Once again Chrysalis appears, looking slightly disheveled, and she gazes down at her changelings with a fang-filled frown.

“What?” she demands, as the two slowly come to attention.

“Chief Architect!” Pharynx bellows, covering for his comrades. “I believe I have a new training regimen I would like to instate, as well as an interrogation technique!”

“Submit it in writing. Now, I have a…” She sighs, poorly concealing her contempt. “Priority buzz for Sweetie Belle. Find her, quickly, all three of you. Reserves authorized, should you need to supplement. Any questions?”

The three exchange nervous glances. Breaking into their dwindling love reserves for a message? It would have to be a long one to necessitate that. And important, for Chrysalis to give away their communication method to not only the ponies - in fact, they would be surprised if she hadn’t told the Princesses about their long-distance abilities - but to the other creatures of the Council.

“Well?” Chrysalis demands impatiently.

It takes Ocellus a moment to realize the other two are waiting for her to respond. It makes sense, now that she thinks about it; Sweetie Belle is a member of her herd, after all.

“No questions, Chief Architect,” Ocellus states, starting to feel the drain of the connection. “We’ll buzz you as soon as we find her. Alone?”

Chrysalis frowns, briefly. “Any she wishes to accompany her may. Let her know it will not be… private. ‘Cac’ out.”

The green ring tightens into a singular point, leaving a trail of green sparks that fade into nothing.

“Um,” Ocellus starts, trying to process what just happened. She shoots her comrades a nervous, if somewhat upbeat, smile. “So, who wants to get the popcorn? I know where she keeps the blubber, but it can get a little salty.”

“Ugh, I hate tears and sadness if they aren’t fresh,” Pharynx says with a bitter scowl.

“Thorax!”

The orange-horned changeling looks up from a sea of swirly white and black, his chastened expression racing past embarrassed and diving straight into sheepish. Or maybe that’s just the mass of black and white sheep stopped in the middle of the streets of Ponyville, blocking traffic and causing the sort of general disarray the Ponyvillians find preferable to professed chaos. That is, whenever Discord gets bored and pulls Lemon and Meringue together for more lessons.

Pharynx, observing on the outskirts of the ovis impediment, is having none of it. He chafes at having to coddle his fellow equines, but Chrysalis gave orders. “You realize,” he continues, moderating his merciless command to a merely flippant reminder, “we have somewhere to be?”

“Sorry,” Thorax calls, more for his inexperience with encouraging movement than any sort of remorse about getting involved, as he goes back to orienting the sheep to the north. He gives the closest a light tap on her soft, poofy rump, getting the ewe to take a few steps before promptly running into another sheep. She stops, utters a soft ‘baa’, and goes back to standing around. Thorax sighs, trying again with the next one, a black lamb. “Come on, little one!”

“Urgh,” Pharynx groans, slamming his hoof into his head. It doesn’t hurt nearly enough to take his mind off his cumbersome bother of a brother. He looks up with a glare. “If I help move this along, can this be the last one?”

“But Pharynx,” Thorax wheedles, “they were in our way! And we had to help Carrot Top when her cart spilled. And catching up with Burnt Oak!”

“Rrr.” Pharynx can feel his horns getting redder, and given that they started the same color as Big Mac that is saying something. “But we have wings!”

Thorax exasperatedly shakes his head as Pharynx buzzes his red wings. “Now you’re just being pedantic. They were along our way, and we could help. Happy?” He flashes a smile to the turquoise pegasus at the front of the sheep herd. She looks quite discombobulated, frantically zipping back and forth to make sure no sheep wander off while nervously watching the changeling in the middle.

“Fine.” Pharynx growls menacingly as he steps forward, transforming in sight if not in body to a fearsome warrior sporting a threatening visage of bared fangs and spread wings. The closest sheep back away cautiously, bleating incoherently. As they step they run into other sheep, prompting them to move, setting off a chain reaction that quickly gets the whole herd in motion. Pharynx quickly reaches Thorax, muttering, “This is a waste of time, you know! Chrysalis is waiting for us.”

“No, it’s not,” Thorax retorts as he works alongside Pharynx. “We’re making valuable friends! Filthy Rich taught me that! Chryssy would understand.”

“Urgh,” Pharynx grunts out as Thorax and the mare take to the sides, keeping everysheep steadily shuffling to the north and out of the town. Pharynx bodily chucks any stragglers into the mass ahead. They bounce off their soft compatriots, ‘baaing’ in confusion more than discomfort, before getting jostled and pushed into compliance. The pegasus reaches a hoof forward, biting her lip until she realizes they aren’t harmed.

Eventually the three break out of Ponyville and into one of the many open fields far to the north of the town. The sheep spread out, lazily grazing on the green grass, seemingly untroubled by the events.

It takes a moment for the pegasus to muster the courage to step forward. “Thank y’all kindly,” she shyly says in an Appleloosan accent. After a brief hesitation she tips her wide-brimmed hat to the two changelings. Thorax returns a smile and nod, Pharynx more of a sullen stare. Her smile only falters once as she takes in their horns and wider, heavyset builds. “I’m Sassaflash.”

“Oh, you’re more than welcome, Miss Sassaflash!” Thorax replies chipperly. “I’m Thorax.” He glances to the side, elbowing his brother when he doesn’t respond. “And this is Pharynx.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Pharynx grunts, turning back to look at Ponyville instead of paying attention to the pony. A moment of awkward silence passes as he frowns, glancing back at her. He states, matter-of-fact and more than a little condescending, “Why’d you come all alone? You had to know you might have trouble.”

“I was thinking I could get Fluttershy to help,” Sassaflash says, a bit overwhelmed at Pharynx’s brusque demeanor. “Or Applejack. I heard she’s really good at corralling critters! But then, when they weren’t… available, I figured I could do it on my own.” She sighs, dejected, and stares at the ground, kicking at a clod of dirt. “But they’ve never been to a town this big before! How’s I supposed to know they’d freeze up like a colt ‘just been asked to a dance?”

“I’ve never been to a dance,” Thorax replies matter-of-factly. This draws an apologetic frown from the mare. “Unless you count guard exercises. I never understood the one where you learned how to throw your partner through the air. Something about earth pony tactics? I’ve always had wings, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I have to say, I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe we should get a shindig going? Show these ponies how Appleloosans dance.” Her whole face brightens as she giggles, winking at Thorax. “Speakin’ of, you boys know any available earth ponies?”

She flips her vanilla mane, beaming at the two coyly. Yet what might have been a seductive maneuver on anystallion falls flat on Pharynx, her expression falling as well.

“No,” he curtly replies, noticing Ocellus tailing them on the outskirts of Ponyville. She has saddlebags at her side and makes wide motions with her legs and wings.

“Now, wait,” Thorax says, stepping in front of Pharynx; his brother is more than happy to back off. His generous smile gets Sassaflash’s smile to return. “What kind of assistance are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know.” Sassaflash flips her mane again, batting her eyelashes. “I’ve got a fertile field here, and a lot of sheep. I wouldn’t want them to go to waste!”

“Oh!” Thorax exclaims, nodding along. “You need somepony to help with the grass! You do have a lot of sheep, and they’ll go through it quickly!”

Sassaflash stares at him blankly, her shoulders sagging.

“Ponies who work with grass...” Thorax continues, staring up at the sky. “I’ve got one in mind, maybe two.” He eyes her flanks with a certain intensity, enough for her to take a step back. Her cutie mark is a pair of yellow lightning bolts, but that gives him little idea. He walks up, rubbing against her withers, a rumble growing in the back of his throat.

“You alright?” Sassaflash asks, a little worried. “I have to say, you ain’t like either of the changelings who moved down to Appleloosa.”

“Just checking something,” Thorax says, circling around to behind her. She raises an eyebrow as he takes a long sniff of her tail. He asks, as he rears up and rests his weight across her back, “Do you want foals?”

Sassaflash staggers as he lands on her, barely able to keep standing. She turns with a repudiating glare, “That’s a little forward, ain’t it?”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Thorax says, hopping off with a nervous smile. “It’s, just, this is the first time I’ve been asked to play matchmaker. Before, we were just assigned the pony we needed to seduce.”

“Seduce?!” Sassaflash pulls back, but curiosity overrides her indignation. “How would you go about seducing somepony?”

“Oh, it’s pretty simple, really.” Thorax chuckles at her slightly affronted look. “Just start with some questions about them, get them talking about themselves. Like this.” He seems to relax, dropping his pitch slightly and smoothly remarking, “Appleloosa, huh? I’ve always wanted to go there. What made you pull up roots and come here?”

Sassaflash nods along, intrigued at the quick change in the changeling’s demeanor. “Here? The opportunity!” She motions to the wide open land around them. “It was starting to get a little crowded in Appleloosa and we had a whole new crop of ewes. Braeburn gave me a tip about how much you can expand, and here we are!”

“Aww, so you’re going to have lots more little ones?” Thorax grins at the sheep just chewing at the grass. “You have contracts on them yet?”

“Contracts?” Sassaflash frowns at the word, but doesn’t react more than that. It is enough to get Pharynx to glance over with something between a curious and commending look. “Not yet, what with the rising prices.”

“Well, if you’re looking for a competitive bid, just talk to Pharynx.” The changeling in question offers a rare smile as Thorax mentions him. “He’s at Sweet Apple Acres most days.”

“That’s right,” Pharynx says, his demeanor completely changed, happy if not joyous to talk shop. “We can equinely harvest, if you’re not looking to ship live. Much better that way. We even make the containers in-house!”

“Down at Sweet Apple Acres, you say?” Sassaflash winks at Pharynx. “Maybe I will head down.”

“Oh, but I definitely wouldn’t talk to Big Macintosh.” Thorax copies Sassaflash’s wink back at her. “He’s far too heavy for you.”

The pegasus laughs, bright and cheerful. “Oh, I don’t know about that. If Braeburn’s collection is accurate?”

“Great!” Pharynx interrupts. “But we have to head to Twilight’s. Ocellus said Sweetie Belle is there.” He offers Sassaflash a curt nod, getting a friendly wave in return.

The two changelings trot off to the bare patch of earth above the sunken castle, meeting up with Ocellus. Pharynx notices Thorax’s self-satisfied smirk, grunting with a heavy sigh. “Not quite a waste of time,” he grudgingly admits, a new spring coming to Thorax’s step.

“And all we had to do was talk to her.” Thorax glances back at the pegasus going about the sheep, making sure they understand to not wander off. “Think Big Mac will like her?”

“I fail to see how this concerns me.” Pharynx pauses at the open door, listening to the grinding sound emanating from within. He glances inside the brightly lit room and almost immediately has to shy away from the intense light.

Starlight Glimmer, cutie mark of a teal wisp of magic and equipped with a black welding face-shield, busily drills anchor holes in the ceiling with her horn. Bits of crystal fleck out and fall down, along with some larger chunks, accompanied by a palpable feeling of heat. Next to her, seemingly hovering in midair but actually suspended on a recently installed transparent platform, rests Trixie. She confers with Diamond Tiara and Pomarbo, going over the plans for the skyway between the entrance and the cumbersome doors far above the floor. She picks up a heavy-duty screw, easily the size of her foreleg, and passes it up to Starlight without looking.

“Is Sweetie Belle here?” Thorax asks as he pokes his head in, having difficulty making anything out over the brilliant sparking horn.

“Down here!” comes the not-quite high pitched voice.

Unsure of how exactly the younger ponies got to the bottom of the stories-deep room, the three changelings leap off, fluttering down the massive atrium to the circular table below. Three young mares dash away from their crates of apples, bales of hay, and lists of ponies and cutie marks at Starlight’s village.

“Hi, Ocellus!” Sweetie Belle greets, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo waving. “And Thorax and Pharynx!”

“Hi, Sweetie Belle! And Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo!” Thorax looks around at the pile of decorations, each of the young mares and fillies contributing something even if they aren’t there. “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Thanks!” Apple Bloom says, grinning broadly. “Makes it feel more like home, ya know? But, what’re you three doin’ here?”

“We’ve got a message for you from Spike.” Thorax pulls out a black scarab, placing it on the circular map table. Pharynx and Ocellus copy him as the sounds of drilling above cease, the four ponies above staring down curiously.

“From Spike?” Scootaloo demands, jumping up on one of the chairs to better observe. “About what?”

“Chief Architect Chrysalis didn’t say,” Pharynx states harshly, his tone attempting to get across that they should be quiet. It doesn’t quite work.

“He didn’t send a letter?” Sweetie Belle’s face scrunches up. “And Chief Architect? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ll let Spike explain,” Thorax says, tapping his scarab. A bolt of green magic erupts from the three, coalescing into a ring above the table.

Sweetie Belle stares up at the ring of green. A sense of dread fills her stomach, tightening, clenching harder than when she thought Spike would be taken away for accidentally transforming into a giant dragon and foalnapping her. Actually, the whole foalnapping part didn’t exactly go smoothly, either. But that’s all in the past. Right?

Did something happen? Well, obviously, but is it something bad? Would he be taken away again? Would he be e-e-e-executed? She can barely keep her head from dropping to the floor in despair, forbidding the tears from her eyes. She had to live through that Tartarus once already, and now it is happening again?!

No! The Princesses wouldn’t let anything like that happen to Spike! Yet her bland reassurances do nothing to alleviate her agonizing. The swirling gray inside the ring doesn’t change into an image of a healthy Spike, despite her worry and wishful thinking. She hops onto one of the chairs to get a better view, shaking the wetness from her eyes, as if getting closer and filling her sight might crowd out the discombobulating thoughts.

“Hey,” Scootaloo says from her side, nudging her hard enough to break her from her funk. “Relax. It’ll be just fine.”

“Don’t say that,” Apple Bloom counters, squeezing into the chair. The three barely fit with manes, tails, and a foreleg spilling off the sides. “Don’t’cha know it’s bad luck?”

“Twilight says it all the time,” Scootaloo says haughtily, sticking her nose in the air. “And if Twilight says it, why shouldn’t we?”

Sweetie Belle snickers at the exchange, nuzzling her sisters even as they glare at each other. The reassurance that they are there, together, is enough to lift her spirits. Even if they don’t quite see eye to eye.

Before their bickering can worsen Chief Architect Chrysalis’ appears in the ring. She glares down at the three young mares, then pans the ring to the side to focus on the three changelings.

“Did I not tell you this was a priority?” Chrysalis’ emphatic demand gets Ocellus’ ears to splay back, draws a self-satisfied smirk form Pharynx, and causes Thorax to hunker down for a brief moment. “That sort of delay is unacceptable! What was the reason?”

“F-fulfilling our primary objection, your majesty!” Thorax stammers out, doing his best to hold himself up. Pharynx begrudgingly stays silent, Ocellus nodding along.

“I am no longer ‘your majesty’,” Chrysalis reminds with a scornful glare. “You may refer to me as ‘Chief’, Chief Architect Chrysalis, or informally as ‘Cac’. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Chief!” Thorax bows his head, Ocellus and Pharynx following.

Chrysalis pauses for a moment as she mulls over his answer earlier. “Very well,” she finally says, stifling the growl in her voice. She pans the ring back to Sweetie Belle, regarding the three young mares with a long sigh. “Sweetie Belle, Emp… Spike wishes to go over recent events. You may wish to take notes.”

“Notes?” Scootaloo scoffs as Chrysalis leaves the image. “I thought Spike took notes. Does he need a new assistant?”

As Spike comes into view, Sweetie Belle’s breath catches in her throat. She expects to see some wound on him, some massive scar, like the faded one on his leg from where Gummy bit his and took a scale. But from the green frond along his head to the way his pointed claws drum nervously against each other, nothing seems to be out of place. At least, with him; three teal claws reach down on each of his shoulders, deeply massaging into his scales. He looks to be enjoying himself, more than a little, eyes closed and back arched as the claws dig into him.

“Thanks, y’all,” Apple Bloom says as Pomarbo comes down the stairs along the edge of the room, Diamond Tiara in close pursuit. He struggles to climb onto a chair, only succeeding when Diamond Tiara gives him a hoof. She doesn’t seem happy about it, but keeps her complaint to herself and smiles when he glances at her.

The voice startles Spike. He nearly springs out of his seat, especially as he sees Sweetie Belle staring at him with a mix of curiosity and contempt. “H-hey, Sweetie,” he stammers, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. The teal claws, which belong to a slender female dragon, pull away as she backs up. Spike gulps, then continues with a quick honorific, “The just Princess presides over us all!”

“Hi, Spike.” Sweetie Belle smiles pleasantly. Is that a thing they are doing now? “Um, praise the sun?”

A moment passes, the only sound the scribbling of Pomarbo’s pencil. It worries her, if briefly, that he doesn’t come out and say what happened. Or who that dragon is. Or much of anything at all; instead, he just itches the side of his face. She tentatively asks, “So, um, how was the flight?”

“The flight?” Spike glances around. His surroundings are blurry, but Sweetie Belle can make out the other mares of the herd. “The flight was fine. I helped Twilight out with her presentation. But our destination was more dangerous than the journey.”

“Oh?” Sweetie Belle asks, leaning forward. Her bright, interested expression helps Spike to perk up, even as she flinches at the mention of a dangerous destination. “How did the presentation go?”

“We, uh, we haven’t done it yet. Perilous is that which cannot be predicted.” Spike scratches at his cheek, nodding to try to cover it. “But I’m sure it’ll be great!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sweetie Belle says, a little confused at the strange phrases he keeps throwing in. “So, did anything happen?” This seemed pretty urgent.”

“Um, no,” Spike stammers out. He shuffles before scratching at his chin again. “Well, sort of.” He growls at himself, slapping himself a few times. “Come on, Spike! Commit to the course!”

“I didn’t even know we could talk like this,” Scootaloo mutters during the ensuing silence, fascinated with the swirling magic above. She glances at the three changelings, each of whom are snacking on blue-buttered popcorn.

“Daddy has some dragonfire dust he can use in case of an emergency,” Apple Bloom corrects.

“But in real-time?” Scootaloo grins. “This is so cool!”

“Yeah,” Spike says, raising a claw. “To the glorious apparatus of empire!”

“Empire?” Sweetie Belle raises an eyebrow, then glances at the changelings. “I thought the changelings were part of Equestria, not the Crystal Empire.”

“Did I say empire?” Spike’s itching grows worse, his claws raking at his face. “So, um, you three. How’s making your mark?”

“Our mark?” Sweetie Belle checks her flank, and it’s still emblazoned with her shield and note cutie mark, similar to her sister’s. “It’s gone fine. In the day that it’s been since we last saw each other.” She cocks her head, looking funnily at Spike as he stands uncomfortably. When he doesn’t say anything she goes on, “We’ve been going over the list of ponies at Starlight Glimmer’s. We need to coordinate with a couple places and ponies, like Princess Luna and whoever’s running the Crystal Empire.”

“The Crystal Empire?!” Spike hunches down, looking from side to side. “Jeez, you are relentless! I don’t know-”

“Oh, come on!” Chrysalis erupts from the side, filling the viewscreen with her scowl. “Sweetie Belle, Spike was elected Emperor of the Crystal Empire. Now stop wasting valuable time and energy!”

“Elected?” Scootaloo scoffs as Chrysalis pulls away. “You mean like... voting? I thought they only voted on fruitless figureheads like school-pony president.”

“Hey!” Diamond Tiara objects, shooting Scootaloo the most lethal of glares. She pushes Pomarbo aside to leap to her hooves, growling menacingly.

“Didn’t you run for school pony president?” Apple Bloom pointedly asks Scootaloo before Diamond Tiara can charge across the table.

“Only because Diamond Tiara paid me,” Scootaloo counters, much to the grumbling of the pink mare. It does get Diamond Tiara to back down, if barely.

“Nice,” Trixie and Starlight Glimmer say from above, tapping hooves against each other.

“Can you believe this?” Diamond Tiara complains to Pomarbo as he rights himself. “I mean, you can see how good a job I’m doing as school-pony president, right?”

“N-no,” Pomarbo says quietly, shaking his head. He squints down at his atrocious hoof-writing rather than meet her fiery gaze. “I haven't gone to school yet.”

“Oh.” Diamond Tiara harrumphs. She haughtily glances down at his writing before sticking her nose up with an aloof sneer. “Well, maybe you should. And we should get you some glasses.” Then you’d be more like Silver Spoon. She sighs, wishing her best friend and sister was here.

Sweetie Belle can only stare at Spike during the other’s exchange. He looks shy, inexperienced, standing there with his claw awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck as he stares at the floor. A small, roundish, timid figure that doesn’t cut an imposing visage. Certainly no King Sombra, from what she knows from stories and pictures. Not at all what you would expect from a Princess or King. How could he possibly be an Emperor!? She had just been talking with the others about whether or not Spike is too young for any sort of serious relationship. And now this?!

“An Emperor?” she blurts out. She pushes forward, heedless of her sisters at her sides, and stares through wide eyes at the dragon who seems to shrink in on himself. “You can’t be an emperor, Spike! Shouldn’t ponies have to have, like, years of training?” She tries to peer through the ring of green, but can’t find Cadance. “I mean, Cadance has spent, what, a decade just learning how to rule!”

“Y-yeah,” Spike stammers, nodding once. “T-that’s what I thought, too. That I might just be a sovereign leech, draining the life from my host. But I’ve spent a lot of time with Twilight.” He slowly grows bolder as he speaks, “But more importantly, I’ve helped Princess Celestia, even if it is just reading royal correspondence. And after Twilight ascended, I assisted with all the paperwork Celestia dumped... I mean, assigned her to go through. Scheduling meetings, showing up at official functions. I even know how to smile and wave!”

If Sweetie Belle registered much of what he said it doesn’t show, even as he demonstrates his ability to smile and wave. It looks, frankly, somewhat disturbing and unpracticed. A lot like Meringue, for that matter. “But you’re not even a pony! You can’t...”

Sweetie Belle takes a quick breath as she realizes what she just said. It seems to snap Spike out of his melancholy, and he turns an angry frown her way. “I-I mean, you don’t have a cutie mark. And how will the Crystal Ponies see their ruler if she doesn’t have a cutie mark? Especially one like Cadance’s that’s practically made for ruling the Crystal Empire!”

“Well,” Spike says, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at her. “They did vote for me. They thought that I would be the best person to navigate our empire through troubled waters. Plus, Doug doesn’t have a cutie mark and he’s a prince of Equestria.”

“Prince Consort,” Sweetie Belle states, growling at herself. She doesn’t even know why she is arguing the point, except that - just like Spike was earlier - she is avoiding the truly contentious topic.

Spike waves away her objection. “The point is… Look, I don’t want to argue with you about this. A wise emperor knows when to circumvent a troubling situation.”

“Is that you, Spike? A wise emperor?” Sweetie Belle can barely keep a friendly smile on her face. She wants to laugh at the concept, how ridiculous it is, yet the dragon in front of her is deathly serious. “Do you even know what you’re getting into?”

“A throne is the most devious trap of them all,” Spike states, doing his best to stand regally and speak with an air of wisdom. “It’s a great honor, and a great burden.”

“So you’re going to do it?” Sweetie Belle demands through tear-filled eyes. “You’re going to leave Twilight and the herd. You’re going to leave me, to rule in the Crystal Empire?”

“I…” Spike starts before cutting off. He covers a surreptitious glance at Twilight with another heavy drag of his claws against his face. Why are his scales so itchy? It felt amazing when Ember was practically peeling his scales from the osteoderms underneath, even if she didn’t quite get around to actually removing them.

But Twilight…

He hasn’t thought about what it will mean for her when he leaves to take over running the Crystal Empire. If she approves of it or not. What she’ll do with all the paperwork Princess Celestia assigns. He’s been so distracted by the congratulations that he just couldn’t. He would instead think about what sort of adventure he might find in the illustrious Empire, what sort of… perks might come with sitting on the throne.

Like when Delegate Gruff came over, the first time the griffon paid them even an ounce of respect. Spike can still see the greedy glint in his beady eye. But it gets him thinking about trade with the Griffon Kingdom, how they could build a railroad that cuts along the Frozen North to Manehattan. It would increase access to the Crystal Empire and boost trade with the Griffons, rather than needing to route everything through Canterlot. And that would be a huge boon, not just in-

Ugh, he’s getting distracted again!

It’s so hard to stay focused, with all the things competing for his attention! Laws of the Crystal Empire, how to deal with ponies, the ponies themselves! He is jumping straight into the deep end, like when he watched Sweetie Belle leap from an apple tree right into the pond, but without learning how to swim. Is this what it’s like to be Twilight, a million different things demanding, all at once, when she became Princess? It explains why she has her lists, a crutch he’s made fun of more than once; she can freely pursue those distractions while being able to return to the issue at hoof at a moment’s notice.

He needs to take charge. Focus on one item at a time. Anything else that comes up should be written down, to be addressed at a later time. Or have the current topic get tabled so the issue cropping up can be resolved satisfactorily, then returned to with a minimum of repeat discussion.

“Twilight?” Spike calls, turning away from the swirling ring of green and his… newest friend to his oldest.

“Yes, Spike?” Twilight answers as she trots over. She beams down at her long-time ward and friend. She asks, as if she hasn’t been listening in to their entire conversation, “Is everything going well?”

“Could…” Spike pauses for a moment, his stomach doing flips as he nearly gnaws at his claws. He dreads Twilight’s answer, even with the mare’s pleasant smile. A smile he wishes Sweetie Belle had on, but she hasn’t let up on her stony stare. “Could you get me quill and parchment?”

“Certainly.” If Twilight finds the request odd she doesn’t show it. Her horn lights; Spike’s quill, inkwell and parchment levitate to the small dragon. Her head tilts to the side slightly, a certain knowing in her eyes. “Is there anything else?”

“I…” Spike stammers, scratching at his cheek. A small bit flecks away, a speck of purple falling to the floor.

“Oh, Spike!” Twilight sympathizes. She drops down and studies Spike’s face with a dam’s protectiveness, eyes narrowing and brow creasing. “Are you alright? Does that hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” Sweetie Belle exclaims worriedly, unable to see from the angle.

“I-it’s nothing! Really!” Spike turns to smile at Sweetie Belle. She flinches noticeably, as do Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. He glances at Twilight, gulping. “Is it bad?”

“I-I’m not sure,” Twilight says. She sits up, studying the two dragons in the room. They seem to be bickering about something, then arm wrestling with each other, but that’s nothing new. “It’s an angry red, like an open wound, like you peeled away a bit of hide. I mean, scale. We don’t know a lot about dragon physiology. But I wouldn’t touch it. Remember the weeping from your scales after Gummy bit you?”

“I won’t mess with it.” Spike’s leg twitches at the reminder. “Deadly machinations benefit greatly from ample drainage.”

Twilight snorts, trying to hold back her guffaws and failing. “Deadly machinations? You must have listened a little too closely to Princess Celestia complaining about the nobles!” She smirks at the white alicorn, only for Chrysalis’ intense stare to catch her eye.

“I believe,” the chief architect states emotionlessly, drawing a certain stillness from the other mares, “that he is referring to an abattoir, not aristocrats. Though one would certainly work on the other.”

“For the record,” Rainbow Dash pipes up to Spike, “I agreed with you when you wanted Twilight to compete for whether or not she could stay in Ponyville. Applejack, on the other hoof, didn’t agree and so she should go at the top of whatever list you’re making.”

“Hey!” Applejack objects, glaring at the cerulean pegasus. Only for Rainbow to lose her denunciation, point a hoof at her lead mare and laugh uproariously. “Okay, okay, ya got me.”

“On a more serious note,” Twilight says, turning back to Spike, still smiling at her herdmate’s antics. She has an upswing in her voice, a ray of hope conveying that she would be open and understanding. “Was there anything else?”

Spike hesitates, rubbing at his arm, only to worry about whether or not he has a loose scale there as well. He looks down at his thin arms. They look so weak, so paltry, so unlike the muscular limbs of the Storm King. Or even Garble! How can he possibly be a leader looking like he does now? He sniffs and drops his head, despising the sound of Twilight’s hooves as she steps closer to console him.

No! He can’t think like that! To entertain doubt is to dance with death!

“Twilight.” He wipes away his tears as he stares up at his dearest friend. Twilight stops, compassion still evident in her smile, even with the slight harshness in his voice. “Do you want me to go to the Crystal Empire?”

“Oh, Spike,” Twilight says, dropping to her barrel. She can’t say anything more, jaw quivering, Celestia’s missive about Honesty in full effect. And maybe that’s her answer. She beckons him closer, tears muddying the violet of her eyes.

The look she gives him when he stalls… she looks hurt, betrayed, that he might not love her enough to give even this small token. It takes but a moment for his resolve to break, rushing into those waiting hooves. She gathers him up, just like she always has, her shoe sliding along his spines as the other hugs him tight.

“I’m so sorry,” Twilight sobs out, barrel heaving, before Spike can repeat his question. “I just… how would you say it?” The corners of her mouth curl up just slightly. “You know. Now that you’re a big-shot emperor and all.” She takes a breath, then states in a low, deep voice, “Inflated confidence is so easily perforated.”

Spike, along with the nearby ponies, can’t help but chuckle. “I know. But I’m a big dragon now!” He grins at her, despite not coming up to her eyes even when she is laying down. “I can take it!” His voice, as deep as it will go, booms, “Such resilience!”

Twilight ruffles Spike’s spines as he flexes, shaking her head mirthfully. “Oh, Spike. I can’t tell you how much I’ll miss this. And how much I’ll miss you. I don’t want you to go.” She hugs him close, shaking as he spreads his arms to hug her back. “I wish you could stay with me forever.”

She pulls away to steal a glance at Celestia. Her mentor is laying down next to Luna, Doug sitting in between, and giving the two the warmest, most encouraging smile she has ever seen. She notes how Doug’s arm nestles around Celestia’s flank and belly, yet more how her leg wraps around his knee, tugging tightly and holding him close, just like she would with Smarty Pants.

She mirrors the action with Spike, nuzzling him from the spines along the top of his head until she gets to the ticklish spot at his neck. “I think back to all the wonderful things we’ve done together. How you’ve helped me through thick and thin. This might feel early, but I know you are capable.”

“How do you know that?” Spike asks, feeling the responsibility looming over him like the shadow of King Sombra. “I don’t feel ready!”

“We may never feel ready. I know I didn’t when I got these.” Twilight wags her wings. “Or when we fought King Sombra. Or dealt with Chrysalis. But we must always be ready to leap at opportunity when it appears. And I think this is a splendid opportunity for you.”

“You’re not going to come with me?” Spike asks, almost begging. “To lose a retainer is to lose a dear friend.”

Twilight shakes her head. “No. This is your chance to prove yourself. If I helped, I would only be stealing your accomplishment from you. And that would hardly be honest, or generous, or loyal, or kind, or optimistic, right?”

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie complains good-naturedly. “How come my Element always gets changed?!”

“Or worthy of laughter,” Twilight corrects, smiling fondly. “But your friends will always be there if you need us. You can write a letter; we’re just a breath away! Just don’t expect us to solve every problem you have!”

“I delegate all my crises to the Elements of Harmony,” Celestia adds before anypony can accuse her of the same, ending with a wink to Twilight. “I’m afraid I called dibs.”

“I get that,” Spike says, fidgeting nervously. He turns back to Twilight. “I knew I would have to leave the nest at some point. That I wouldn’t always have you around. Before you got those,” he motions to Twilight’s wings, “I thought, when I could bear to think about it, that it would be from age. For everypony else, time can be slowed but never slain. But this?”

Spike buries himself in Twilight’s soft and inviting chest, a hoof loosely holding him against her. Her head drops down, finally allowing a tear to drop onto his back.

“I’ll miss you, Spike,” Twilight whispers. Only after a long time do they push away. She stares into his eyes, wiping away a tear that didn’t come off on her fur. “I know you’ll be a superb leader.”

“It’d be kind of hard to be worse than the last emperor,” Rainbow Dash adds, breaking the solemnness. She looks confused at the glares aiming her way. “What? It’s true!”

A sniff from Sweetie Belle draws Spike’s attention. She rubs at her eye, clearly reluctant to ask the question, as Twilight backs away and leaves Spike alone. “Do you want me to leave too, Spike? Because I don’t want you to leave. I won’t just miss you when you’re gone.”

“Gone?” Spike says, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. “I was hoping that you would, you know, come with me. As they say, pity the emperor who sits alone on his throne.”

“But…” Sweetie Belle stammers. Hah! Spike smirks, the shoe on the other hoof. “But we promised,” she finally says, looking up at something he can’t see, then at her two sisters. Neither appears happy with the conundrum in front of them. “We were going to go to Starlight’s village and help everypony there with their cutie mark problems.”

“Oh, so I can’t leave because you’ll miss me?” Spike crosses his arms across his chest, his face set hard. “But you can leave because your cutie mark says you can? What will Rarity say, or Applejack or Rainbow Dash?”

It takes Sweetie Belle a moment to answer, the three mares frowning but not at her. She says, with obvious trepidation, “Well, yeah. It’s like when Applebaum left to pursue her mark. Applejack was sad, but she came to terms with it. Applebaum is doing what she is meant to do. All our dams know that we’re doing what we’re meant to do.”

“But how do you know that I’m not doing what I’m meant to do? Huh?” Spike points a claw at his face, a new spot starting to itch. “What makes ponies so special, that they get to blame any action they want to on their mark and everypony just accepts it? But if a dragon does what they want, they’re ‘just being a dragon’ and the next thing you know they’re being deported?”

“Well,” Sweetie Belle shouts, a new fury in her eyes, “if you want to be a dragon so badly, why don’t you go be a dragon with her!” She angrily thrusts her hoof at the blurry teal figure in the background.

“Her?” Spike glances back, spotting Ember. He gulps. “With Ember?”

“Oh, she has a name,” Sweetie Belle mutters.

Spike glowers at her cross reaction. “But I don’t care about her. I care about you. An emperor must choose his attendants wisely.”

Spike kneels down, wishing he had some sort of token to offer. He grabs the quill Twilight left on the floor. He holds it up solemnly.

“I wish I could tell you the right words. About how much you mean to me. About how valuable you will be at my side. The truly virtuous are few and far between. I wish I could delay, but there is a fine line between consideration and hesitation. The former is wisdom, the latter is fear. An emperor must know precisely where he stands, and I need to know where I stand with you.”

Spike takes a deep breath, then kneels.

“Sweetie Belle. I love you. Will you come to the Crystal Empire and rule at my side?”

Spike stares at Sweetie Belle, holding his position while she stares back. It begins to grow uncomfortable, the itching on his face getting worse. He finally has to reach up and scratch, digging deep, never breaking eye contact.

“Spike,” Sweetie Belle eventually says, keeping the stammer from her voice even as her body quakes. “I… I haven’t thought this through.” She indicates her two sisters. “It’d mean breaking us apart. We wouldn’t be helping the ponies at Starlight’s village. I… I can’t.” She sniffs, once, turning her head away. “I can’t come with you to the Crystal Empire. Not yet.”

She mutters a brief, “I’m sorry,” and leaves a stream of tears as she jumps down and scampers off to hide in one of the bales of hay.

“S-sorry, Spike,” Apple Bloom apologizes before running off to console her sister.

Scootaloo gives a sympathetic nod of her head. “We’ll, um, let you know if anything changes.” She, too, disappears from view.

Spike stares at the empty green ring for a long moment. He says as it fades, without malice or any emotion in his voice, “May you find the ending you deserve.”

Spike isn’t surprised when a hoof lightly rests on his shoulder, trying to comfort him with a solemn pressure. He is surprised to find it is white and not lavender. He wants to brush it off, prove that he is a tough dragon who can be on his own, but he gets as far as reaching his curled claws up and preparing to flick her off when she speaks.

“Oh, Spike,” Rarity starts, the gentleness in the unicorn’s voice a sharp contrast to the wariness or commands Spike normally hears. “It must feel terrible, what you are going through right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Spike replies gruffly, shrugging her hoof off him. She frowns but doesn’t press forward, displaying a similar betrayal that Twilight had earlier, if less intense. He ignores it, grumpily crossing his arms. “The path is winding and treacherous; I just didn’t think it would start so early. But treachery always surfaces when you least expect it.”

“Treachery?!” Rarity exclaims, taking a step back while her hoof presses against her chest. “This isn’t you, Spike! Surely you don’t think that somepony making a choice that you don’t agree with is betraying you?”

Rarity and Spike turn as Ember strides up to them while a defeated Garble sulks and nurses his claw behind her.

“What else would it mean?” the teal dragon demands, slapping a fist into her open palm. “A Dragon Lord rules with absolute authority. My father, Dragon Lord Torch, defies any to deny his dominance at their peril. And Spike should rule the same way. As a dragon, not as a weak and simpering pony.”

“Excuse me!” Rarity objects, rising up and glaring at Ember. “Just because Spikey-Wikey is a dragon does not mean-”

“Hey!” Spike interrupts, stepping away from Rarity to stand next to Ember. “I’m not a foal you can boss around any more! Maybe you don’t like the new Emperor Spike.”

“Hatchling,” Ember corrects as Rarity sputters. “Or baby. You certainly aren’t a foal.”

“Well, he kind of is,” Garble states disdainfully.

“But not for long.” Ember slaps Spike’s back with a vicious smile, raking her claws along his scales. “See? He’s growing up!”

Spike howls in agony as the top layer of scale rips off, exposing a pattern of angry red diamonds. He whimpers as he lays on the ground, curling into an abject ball.

“You… you brute!” Rarity rushes in between Ember and Spike, rearing up to plant a hoof on the taller dragons’ chest, her experience with Doug’s taller stature helping her keep the pose without wavering. Twilight Sparkle also stands, ready to intervene.

“Hah!” Ember laughs in Rarity’s face as she smoothly parries the push, leaving the unbalanced unicorn barely able to catch herself as she falls. Ember points at Spike, cackling. “You ponies always think you’re so superior! You don’t care what happens to everycreature else; you don’t have a clue what he’s going through!”

“Then explain,” Twilight says firmly as she steps up to Spike. The young dragon is no longer writhing in pain; instead, he has a content look, the same kind Rarity might after a session at Aloe’s. “It’s true that we don’t know enough about dragons, or everycreature else. But we want to learn. We’re willing to listen to experts like you. But that doesn’t mean we should be going around tearing scales off each other!”

“See?” Ember points out with a self-righteous smirk. “Perfect example of pony primacy at its worst. That’s exactly what you should be doing.”

“Wait, what?” Twilight asks, befuddled. She glances down at Spike; he’s gone from content to busily itching at a piece of scale on his face that is beginning to peel away. He winces every time his claw brushes against the red spot underneath, unable to do as Ember did and rip the offending scale off. “I should?”

“Yeah! He’s molting!” Ember points at the shards of scale littering the floor. “It’s super painful to go through. Every minute you delay is a minute he spends suffering. But it’s a part of growing up dragon.”

“Growing up?” Spike asks from the floor, his voice hoarse and nearly unhearable. He glances down at his arms and legs, still as short and stubby as always. “But the last time I grew up, I nearly destroyed Ponyville!”

“What was that?” Twilight asks, straining to hear him.

“I said,” Spike repeats, infuriated but still silent, “that I almost destroyed Ponyville!”

“I’m sorry, Spike, but we can’t hear you.” Twilight grabs Spike’s parchment and quill. “Maybe write it down?”

Spike clenches his claws, starting off quiet before erupting into a deafening shout and an accompanying uncontrolled spout of flame. “I said that I almost defiled Sweetie Belle and destroyed Ponyville!”

“Oh, yeah!” Ember says, laughing as a golden glow from Celestia’s horn diverts the flame upward, dispersing it in midair. Her snicker shuts up Spike and gets Twilight to twist her head. “I heard about that. Good times! But this isn’t Greed Induced Bigness, though you have to tell me how you gibbed to save the Crystal Empire.”

“Oh, that?” Spike says, his voice hoarse again. He flexes his arms, quickly going back to scratching at a new spot on his face. “I just thought about how valuable the Crystal Heart in my claws was, and that it was mine.”

“You’ve gone quiet again,” Twilight says, cautiously watching for another belch of flame.

“He said, ‘oh, that?’” Celestia interprets as Spike clenches his claws with an infuriated glare, the glow from her horn fading. “Then, ‘I just thought about how valuable the Crystal Heart in my claws was, and that it was mine.’”

“Thank YOU!!” Spike bellows, releasing another torrent of flame that Twilight is ready for this time.

“You are most welcome,” Celestia says with a soft smile.

All the other creatures have grown quite interested in the proceedings, gathering closer than before; even the Storm King has stopped lounging. The ponies regard them with a quick glance before going back to Spike.

“This… molt process you are talking about,” Twilight starts. A smile that might be considered maniacal on anycreature not so cute spreads across her muzzle. She zips next to Ember, quill in aura and ready to jot down anything she says. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Is it like getting a cutie mark for a pony and the start of puberty? What sort of horrendous side effects are there? How long will it last?” She beams at Ember, all toothy smiles and eager eyes.

“Horrendous side effects?” Spike whimpers.

“Is he going to get wings?” Rainbow Dash excitedly demands, looking between Ember and Garble’s wings. “Because that would be awesome!” She slaps Spike on the back, drawing a sharp intake of breath as his eyes bug out in pain. “‘It’d make you forty-four percent cooler!”

She looks around at the blank, questioning stares everypony gives her. “What? Each wing makes you twenty percent more cool. Unless he just gets one massive, unbalanced wing.” Her eyes grow wide in horror. “That’s not gonna happen, right?”

Ember chuckles, shaking her head. Her purple wings flare out, looking comparably small on her body. “They might get to be massive, but that’ll take a few centuries. Right now there’s the volume shifts and uncontrolled fire breath. That’s bad, but what you need to worry about is the smell. It’s so bad a dragon will kick their young out and make them fend on their own. Run away from rocs. Survive and find a hoard of their own.” She takes a deep whiff of Spike, claws ready to pinch her nose and gag. Except she doesn’t really react, getting closer and taking another sniff. She remarks, “That part hasn’t started yet?”

“That would be me,” Celestia says apologetically, her cleansing spell from earlier still active. “I could take it away, but…” She flicks her head at Doug, his pungent lunch unnoticeable.

“Hey!” he retorts dourly.

Celestia smirks, leaning her head back to kiss him. “Got you,” she whispers, earning a tender scratch of her belly.

“Yeah,” Ember says, rolling her eyes at the affectionate display. “Is that what you’re thinking? That it’s easier on all of us this way?”

Twilight taps her quill against her chin. She frowns, turning a hard expression toward Ember. “You think Spike would be better off if he’s forced to endure these trials. The smell, the itching, the pain. Being forced to go alone.”

Ember nods. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Twilight beams at Spike. “That might improve your fortitude and make you a strong and ferocious dragon. But I do not believe following that course makes you the best you can be. Remember your friends, Spike. They can help when you are feeling low. They can provide alternatives you didn’t think of. They can even remind you when you go wrong. And you can do the same for them. And that is a strength that is stronger than any muscle, sharper than any claw, and more durable than any scale.”

In the background, Garble exchanges a grumpy snort with the griffons. The yaks seem similarly unimpressed while Iron Grip slams two meaty hands against each other. The ponies of the Realm of Clouds, along with the two Saddle Arabians, giddily stomp their hooves. The Storm King merely steeples his hands in front of his face, regarding the Equestrians with a calculating stare.

Spike stands tall. “There’s nothing saying that I can’t do both. You know, pick and choose the parts from each that I like. I don’t have to do things the pony way, and I don’t have to do things the dragon way. I can be a strong, ferocious leader who accepts no impasse, and at the same time equally share the essence of our empire among all of our citizens.”

“Hah!” laughs Ember. “That’s quite the dragon thing to do. Take what’s useful and torch the rest. Good on you.”

“Thanks.” Spike groans, writhing along the floor. “Now, can we go ahead with this whole scale removal thing? They’re getting really bad.”

“Would you like me to?” Twilight asks, Spike nodding eagerly. Ember grumbles, claws on her hips, put out that he didn’t pick her. “Also, I think Rarity has something she wants to say.”

Spike shrugs as Ember points out to Twilight which scales she should be removing. She starts with her hooves; her horn might give her greater strength and control, but she’s worried about ripping off too much at a time. Spike grits his teeth through the pain, but endures, watching as layer after layer of purple scales fold onto neat stacks.

It’s no easier for Twilight, every gasp and wince and shudder nearly enough to get her to stop. But she can see how Spike fares no better if he is left alone, the spaces she hasn’t gotten to yet just as itchy and irritating, if not more. She continues along his legs, his arms, even his head, carefully peeling away the offending stone scales to expose the pulsing red and purple diamonds underneath.

“Spike,” Rarity starts solemnly as Spike stretches, the distressing process finally over. She sighs at herself. “I can understand why you are frustrated with me and with Sweetie Belle. Nopony, err, nocreature likes it when things don’t go their way. I know that, all too frequently, I played the part of the protective dam, making sure the ‘stallion’, as it were, didn’t take advantage of my precious filly. But you have to understand, she is going through a lot of changes, just like you are. I’m sure this came as a surprise to her, just like it did for you. Please don’t hold this against her, especially if she ends up changing her mind. That’s all I wanted to say earlier, and I’m sorry we got off track.”

“I get that,” Spike says, able to keep his smile going. “I do. I still have feelings for her. And I hope she changes her mind.” He turns to Twilight. “I know I chafed at the restrictions you put on me. But I know how important following the rules is.”

Twilight nods, putting aside her notes on the molting process. “You showed us you are a responsible dragon in the little things, Spike. And that makes me more than willing to put you in charge of the big things. And I know,” she grins, poking Spike in his rotund stomach, drawing a short laugh, “even though you might feel a little small at the moment, that you will go on to do great things.”

“Thanks, Twilight,” Spike says as a red glow surrounds his body. He reaches up, embracing his oldest friend in a tight hug. “I’ll always remember the lessons you taught me, about how…”

Spike glances down at the unfamiliar glow, his eyes growing wide. “T-Twilight? What’s going-”

Gray stone encases the purple and green dragon, pinning him against the lavender alicorn.

First Rarity and then Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash crowd around Spike’s stone form and Twilight Sparkle. Their excited voices blend into one, poking and prodding and generally making Twilight feel like the thaumic equations she tinkers with.

“Darling, your coat!” “Ooh, can I join?!” “Don’t worry, Twi! We’ll get ya free!” “Spike! Are you okay?” “That was awesome!”

“I’m okay!” Twilight Sparkle blurts out as she looks up at Doug and Celestia, towering above all except Rainbow Dash. Both take their time to assess the situation rather than pull and tug at her like Applejack.

“Ow!” Twilight swats at the orange mare attempting to rip one of Spike’s arms from her side. It’s really hard to bend her leg with the weird angle, and it doesn’t help that her other foreleg is fused to his back. Applejack backs off, if reluctantly, with a sheepish smile. “That hurt! It’s like…” She sighs as she inspects the stone pressing against her. Spike’s rocky arms go from the base of her barrel around one foreleg, then deep against her chest. “Yup. It’s melded to my coat.”

“So what do we do?” Doug asks, frowning. “Get a pair of scissors?”

Rarity gasps, taken aback by Doug’s brutish suggestion. “But that will ruin her appearance! Surely we can figure something out! Like a teleport?”

“We could always fashion you a peytral similar to ours,” Celestia mentions, motioning to her golden regalia with a gold-shod hoof. “Molded correctly, it could cover any disfigurements.”

“Gold would be a dazzling color on you,” Rarity says, glancing apologetically to Luna. She returns a gloomy grunt. “But surely there is a better solution?”

“Mm,” Twilight considers, unconvinced. She shakes back and forth, and the ripples are more than skin deep. “I think he went past coat and into hide. I’m not sure what would happen if I teleported, even balefully. Especially when this effect fades; any pieces caught inside me might break up, sending chips of stone hurtling through my blood and straight into my brain. A teleport would exacerbate that risk.” She chuckles nervously, trying to keep a lighthearted smile. “But that’s not going to happen! Everything is going to be just fine.”

“Urgh,” moan the half dozen ponies surrounding Twilight, more than a few hooves slapping at faces.

“You can teleport others,” Doug says, ashen-faced.

Twilight nods, slightly confused. She’s done so in front of Doug before, right? Or at least talked about it. Never with the human, though; she has a hard time getting a lock on him for telekinesis, much less anything else. “It’s not much harder than teleporting yourself. As you get more familiar with the target the difficulty decreases exponentially.”

“No, no, no,” Doug says, staring a thousand yards past Twilight. “You can teleport pieces of others.”

“Well, not on pur…” Twilight’s eyes go wide, a hoof covering her mouth as she nearly retches up her lunch. The ponies around her share her… distaste, many patting her gently, though it’s unclear if they are attempting to reassure her or themselves.

“Perhaps,” Rarity adds, tremoring, “we shouldn’t tempt fate by discussing those types of horrid outcomes?”

“Exactly.” Twilight gathers her strength, taking a deep breath and calming herself down. “Everything is going to be perfect.” Twilight jovially searches for Ember. The dragoness, much like everycreature else, has gathered even closer than before, watching with an eagerness she didn’t expect. “It’s crystal clear what you meant about watching out for rocks. It’s certainly a corundum. Not that I have any hard feelings!”

“I’m going to give that two and a half Mauds,” Pinkie Pie says dourly. “And that’s being generous. You’re going to need way better rock puns.”

“And it’s a different kind of roc,” Ember states as Twilight grumbles. “R-O-C-S.”

Twilight stares at Ember, dredging up everything she knows about the giant flying birds.

“That does make more sense,” Rainbow Dash interjects, drawing a curious glance from Twilight.

“You know about those?” Twilight frowns at the revelation. She knows Rainbow Dash has to keep an eye out for monsters from the Everfree, like Astral Ursas.

“Well, yeah.” Rainbow Dash shrugs blithely, trying to not appear as eggheaded as she is. “They’re just one of the reasons you don’t blindly fly over the Everfree Forest. They shouldn’t go after equines, but if they do? Just scream ‘Celestia’ and ‘fried chicken’ and they should go away.”

“Hmm, that would be good to remember,” Rarity says, making a mental note.

“Perhaps I should update them,” Celestia muses. “Especially if Spike does grow wings.”

“That’ll be awesome!” Rainbow Dash repeats as Ember nods. She runs her hoof over Spike’s stone form and asks curiously, “What kind of rock is this? Granite? Shale?” Her eyes narrow as she smirks. “Cummingtonite?”

“Hmn,” Pinkie Pie says, inspecting the stone closely as Doug struggles to keep a straight face. She runs her tongue along the stone, completely serious as she smacks her lips. “Now, I don’t have a Rocktorate in minerals that actually exist, but I don’t taste enough manganese for there to be any cummingtonite.”

“I don’t know about that,” Fluttershy interjects with a broad, somehow innocent smile. Her herdmates snort, roll their eyes, or in Applejack’s case, both.

Ember raises an eyebrow. “You know, I didn’t believe Garble when he said you ponies were this obsessed with sex.”

“It’s Doug’s fault,” every single mare and Shining Armor chorus.

The human shrugs shamelessly.

Ember backs off a little, holding her claws up as if to keep Doug at bay. “Maybe it’s better that Spike stays with ponies, if any of that rubbed off on him. What kind of dragon would want to endure that nonsense more than every other decade?” She shakes her head, gagging, even though the earlier comment about partial teleporting hadn’t fazed her. “Where’d you get his egg, anyway? Some idiot must have stolen it from the hatching fields if he’s only going through his molt now.”

“Hatching fields?!” Fluttershy exclaims, twin cyan pools shimmering with excitement. “There are whole fields of baby dragons?”

“Not for another year,” Ember says, barely holding back the yellow pegasus doing an admirable job of clinging to her leg and beaming up at her. “Now get off! Dragons don’t do cute and cuddly!”

“Aww,” Fluttershy whimpers, slinking back to lay next to Twilight. Applejack consoles her with a pat of her back.

“I obtained the egg from the Scale Collectors,” Celestia answers, motioning with a hoof at Raikou. The Storm King confirms with a nod. “I had no idea it would hatch. Speaking of, I could use another. Sterile this time.” She sighs. “It was an excellent test of how a young pony would deal with failure, and much more effective than using a replica.”

“I’ll look into it,” the Storm King says with a small smile and bow. He glances at Ember.

The glance is enough to kindle an infuriated snort and humorless glare. “I told you the last time we’re not bailing out that worthless sack of dragon dung.”

“Hey, don’t go insulting dragon dung,” Garble says crossly. “I heard ponies pay gems for it.”

All eyes turn to Applejack.

“It’s true,” the farmpony admits. “Ah’ve heard other farms use it, ‘specially those run by a pegasus or unicorn. Just not at Sweet Apple Acres. We tend to the apple trees closely enough they don’t need it, and the wheat fields get their boost from the Everfree.”

“Ah, poo,” Garble pouts, scratching at his chin as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Not on our fields you ain’t,” Applejack returns merrily.

It takes Garble a second to realize why everypony is laughing. He grows cross for a second before joining in with a shake of his head.

It seems merriment is the cue Spike is waiting for as beams of white burst from seams in the rock. Everypony takes a step back, watching with bated breath. Except Twilight, still stuck to Spike. She, like the other unicorns and alicorns, watches through lenses of magic that leaves her eyes a solid white as they filter the blinding light.

Cracks spread from his head to his tail, chunks of stone breaking off and revealing the small purple and green dragon underneath. His claws sparkle as he flexes and flicks off the remaining shards clinging to his glistening scales. Twin wings, shaped like a bat’s with a purple leading edge and dark green fingers that extend through light green patagium, spread from his back. They look woefully undersized, especially for the rotund dragon, but the same could be said about nearly every flying creature.

“H-hey, everypony!” Spike exclaims, grinning nervously as he cranes his neck this way and that. He tries to pull away, but can’t. “Um, Twi, I know I went away for a minute or two, but you can let go of me now.”

“I-I’m not,” Twilight apologies. She tugs her hoof away to demonstrate, but it just stretches her coat away from her body. “Your new scales are kind of… attached to me.”

“Oh, no!” Spike exclaims, again trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeding in getting Twilight to wince in pain. He notes how her hair stretches, his face lighting up. “Don’t worry! I’ve got these.”

Spike brandishes his claws, though rotating them to reach his entrapped wrists proves only a momentary delay. Before Twilight or Rarity can stop him he slices through her coat, freeing his wrist, but continuing along his arm proves impossible.

“Ooh,” Rarity fusses, holding her hoof to her muzzle as her eyes water. Only Doug seems to care enough to comfort her by running his hand along her back, the rest a bit miffed with her melodramatic response. Rarity covers her eyes, yet can’t help but peek over to watch the carnage.

“Hold on, Spike, let me help,” Twilight insists as Spike grows frustrated with his lack of progress.

“Hey, Celestia,” Rainbow Dash whispers as the two slowly carve through the hairs locking them together. “Any chance you can send Twilight a letter? It might speed this up.”

“Ah, but I would not wish to cut their bonding short,” Celestia returns. She pauses to wipe away the tear forming in her eye as she watches them. “And it would be remiss of Twilight to not be at least partially flame-retardant.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rainbow Dash sighs, disappointed. She watches Twilight free Spike’s elbow, the dragon severing strands of hair as Rarity whimpers in abject sorrow. She whispers to Pinkie Pie, “How long do you think it takes for him to notice?”

“Notice what?” Spike asks as he pulls himself away from Twilight’s shorn chest. He has bits and pieces of lavender sticking up from his entire frontside, and he glances down at it. “Oh, this?” A quick burst of green flame sears away the hair, leaving him pristine once again. “Simple!”

“It’s okay, Rarity,” Twilight consoles. She looks like a filly who didn’t so much as fall asleep with a bit of bubblegum in her mouth but dove forelegs first into a barrel of it. “It’s just hair. It grows back!”

“But that won’t be until winter!” Rarity bawls, flailing about at anything in reach. Which ends up being mostly Doug. “Until then you’ll be hideous!”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Twilight objects with a roll of her eyes. “Besides, you can always make me a dress to cover it up, right?”

“Or a frock!” Pinkie Pie adds, grinning. “Like Maud! Or a smock, or an apron, or some overalls, or-”

“A dress, you say?” Rarity says as she bolts upright, hiding her grimace at Pinkie Pie’s… suggestions. This knocks Doug back, not that she notices or he minds. She studies Twilight’s mangled coat, frowning at the specks of blood welling where Spike nicked her. “I believe I have just the thing! We were all going to be fitted for that merchant’s garments. Oh, I knew shopping would one day save the day! And that day is today!” She flashes a grin at Doug, who merely rolls his eyes as he dusts himself off.

“How do you feel, Spike?” Twilight grins down at the small dragon, staying encouraging. “That was quite the fright you gave us!”

“I feel great!” Spike holds up his arms, flexing. Unlike before, where one couldn’t really tell, just the tiniest bulge of muscle pushes up against his scales. “Super energized! Like I could just take off, you know?”

“Oh, yeah?” Rainbow Dash exclaims from above, flapping her wings with extra gusto.

“Yeah!” Spike spreads his arms out wide, like Doug would when he plays ‘pegasus’ with the young foals of the herd. His wings mirror the action behind him. He runs around in a wide circle, shouting, “Weeee!!”

Chrysalis slinks up to Doug. She whispers, as the rest of the ponies chuckle, “Is that how an… airplane flies? Fixed wings?”

“That’s part of it,” Doug whispers back, shocked that Chrysalis could have picked that up from the lack of flapping. “A curved wing, to get the airflow right. You have to be going a bit faster, but…”

He trails off as Spike rises into the air, suppressing the rancor in his mouth. Magic.

“Trixie, cut it out!” Spike cries as his legs windmill uselessly, unable to reach the ground a few inches away.

“Trixie isn’t here,” Twilight calls back, unable to keep the mirth from her voice. “It’s all you!”

“Me?” Spike glances around, bewildered, as he glides through the air. Every time he sinks low enough to touch the ground the barest contact bounces him back up. He barely clears a lot of the obstacles in the room, riding up chairs and across tables. He twists around, looking for the culprit, only to spot the wings on his back.

His wings.

“Ahh!” Spike exclaims as he spins uncontrollably, slamming into one of the walls. He hangs there, upside down, staring at his wings.

“Spike!” Twilight shouts, rising into the air to swoop to the downed dragon.

“Twilight!” Spike calls, unable to believe it. He has wings! “I did it! I have wings!”

“Not so much of a baby dragon, huh?” Rainbow Dash beams from next to Twilight. “Now, come on! Let’s put those puppies to use! Race ya!”

Spike can only watch, mesmerized, as Rainbow rings rainbow rings around the room. He can barely keep up, his head spinning as she skids to a stop next to him.

“Let’s go!” Rainbow Dash yells, the berating tone she copied from Spitfire in full effect. “I want to see those wings flapping!”

“Y-yes, ma’am!” Spike tries to shout back, his wings flapping. He barely raises into the air, his feet never leaving the ground.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Rainbow Dash bellows. “Harder! I’ve seen butterflies flap their wings harder!”

“I-I’m trying!” Spike ekes out, already winded from trying to get his wings to flap like Rainbow Dash wants. The unfamiliar muscles don’t respond like he thinks they should, especially from how Twilight described getting and using her wings.

“Well, try harder!” Rainbow Dash points at Twilight, the alicorn unsure of the teaching methods but letting the more experienced flyer lead. “Or do I need to put somepony in danger? I’m sure we can get the Storm King to swipe Sweetie Belle, or get a roc to take off with Rarity!”

The unicorn does not look amused to be a mere object of their pursuit, especially when it appears to be quite the motivation. It only gets worse when Doug scoops her up from behind with a loud grunt, depositing her on his shoulder and shuffling to the opposite side of the auditorium.

“Doug! Unhand me this instant!” Rarity’s eyes go wide as his free hand threatens to tickle her exposed belly. “Spike! Help!”

“Don’t worry, Rarity! I’ll save you!” Spike’s brow furrows in concentration, kicking off with his legs as his wings beat at the air. He rises, higher and higher, before overbalancing and faceplanting into a yak’s backside. He bounces off the surprisingly springy material, flipping head over tail before his wings manage to right himself.

“No! Eee!” Rarity calls melodramatically as Doug rolls her, exposing her pristine belly for all to see. Her tail fruitlessly lashes, tyring to swat him away, only for his grin to go wide as he savors the moment before he unleashes the dreaded raspberry.

Spike soars through the air, one beat of his wings carrying him nearly to the ceiling. He points his claws as he screams, charging downward toward the dastardly villain and his helpless quarry.

Only for Doug to drop down, dodging Spike’s strike by blowing on Rarity’s exposed tummy.

Rarity’s high pitched laughter and the loud, warbling ‘pfff’ compete with Spike crashing into the wall for who can be the loudest. At least, until Spike runs over and kicks Doug in the shin.

“Bleargh!” Doug shouts as he collapses, unceremoniously dumping Rarity onto Spike.

“My hero!” Rarity calls to the smothered dragon, planting a kiss on his green frills.

“You’re doing great, Spike!” Twilight cheers as Spike pulls himself out from under Rarity. “Way better than when I first got my wings!”

“And Twilight wasn’t even half-bad!” Rainbow nods knowingly. “Although, from what I can tell, she had the opposite issue. She kept putting in too much power without enough control.” She chuckles to herself. “Not that I’ve ever had that problem.”

The rest of the mares chuckle along with Rainbow, that being exactly the problem she had both when she didn’t get into the Wonderbolts initially and then years later when she lost her magic.

Doug withdraws as Spike again takes to the air. He still wobbles, but eagerly, trying out everything Rainbow Dash and the others can think to yell at him. He reaches Celestia’s side and sits down; she lays ponyloaf next to him.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Doug asks quietly, noting the pride and joy the alicorn radiates just from watching Twilight and Spike.

“It truly is,” Celestia whispers back. She utters a soft coo as one hand slips under her wing to massage her growing belly, nuzzling her head against his as her mane stills. “I have borne witness to it many, many times, but I fear observing the maturation of a student pales in comparison to guiding one’s own progeny.”

“Yup,” Doug agrees sympathetically. His smile joins hers, thinking back to how each of his foals has grown and matured, especially the Crusaders. And, though he’s certainly happy for Spike, how much happier he was when they found their calling in life. He finds himself glumly asking, “Did you…”

Celestia glances over as Doug trails off, the thin line of his lips indicating he is mulling over something distasteful. She waits for him to grow bold enough to ask, even as she misses his hand’s motion as it pauses against her side.

Curiosity wins out over jealousy as Doug asks, “Why did you stop looking for this?” His arm sweeps from Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle encouraging Spike to Cadance and Shining Armor sitting close and nuzzling, eyes locked on each other. “I know… I know family is one of the most important things to me. I would have left Equestria, or tried, if it wasn’t available for me here. You tried for centuries to find the same, and I like to think I would have done no less. But then you stopped.”

Doug waits for an answer, wincing as Spike crashes into the floor. Ember straightens him up, giving him a pointer by spreading her wings. When Doug doesn’t feel Celestia react he glances over.

The white alicorn has her head twisted away, eyes clamped shut. Her breathing slows, controlled, a bulwark against something raging within.

He ventures, timorously, “Did something happen?”

Celestia nods imperceptibly. He has to strain to pick up her whisper. “His name was Rising Heights.”

Celestia takes one deep breath after another, steeling herself as she dredges up painful memories she thought she had long put to rest. A light touch pushes Doug away; she doesn’t want to associate him with the memories, as much as it pains her to do so. He lets her go, reluctantly, one hand trailing on her side until he parts with a light squeeze to her flank.

Twilight, sensing imminent story-time, zips away from Rainbow Dash and Spike. The two pause their practice, exchange eye-rolling looks at her predictability, and follow. The three land in a loose circle in front of Celestia. Twilight beams with excitement while Spike grabs quill and parchment, just like when they were young, while Rainbow Dash bemoans the fact that Doug is sitting close to Celestia and not with her. She settles for snuggling up next to Fluttershy on one side and Rarity on the other, the circle of mares quickly filling in.

If there is one mare who isn’t waiting on tenterhooks it would be Luna, and to a lesser extent Cadance. The cobalt alicorn mutters about the wisdom of bringing up this tragic tale, though she doubts her Sister would listen to her unless she objected so strenuously the other nations would suspect they were covering something up. The history isn’t hidden, not for anycreature who cares to delve into the lesser-circulated tomes of Celestia’s rule. She surmises that at least half of the nations present have read the unabridged version. Obviously the griffons have, with their ability to recount any slight and twist it to a version demanding recompense. The goats pass scraps of papers to the minotaur. Even the Storm King has a politely neutral mask, not the scowl Tempest Shadow wears as she stands at attention next to him, though the sanguineness he has presented toward Equestria has only enhanced her suspiciousness.

Celestia regally stands, drawing the attention of the silent spectators. Her mane, an aurora that spreads behind her like a majestic mantle, gently waves in time with her breath. Her golden regalia, polished to a mirror shine, reflects the same warmth of her motherly smile.

She pauses to scan the Council of Creatures, gaze halting on each for a brief moment before passing to the next. She seems to acknowledge every single creature, her lips moving the barest amount giving the impression that she is recalling their titles, or to the suspicious their fears, or to the most paranoid their innermost desires that they might only dream of. And perhaps there is a kernel of truth in that sentiment, that she is privy to these private pinings, given that she restored the Aspect of Dreams to her position.

After a long while, but to none an onerous one, the Princess of the Sun clears her throat and begins. “For as long as I can remember my desire to have a foal has been a powerful one. For what greater way to shape the coming future is there than raising foals? It is a desire I have pursued, some might say endlessly.”

Celestia sighs, losing some of her warmth. “Rising Heights was not the first lover I took,” Celestia continues, drawing a quick chuckle from Cadance and a loud snort from Luna. She mock glares at her little Sister before adopting a carefully crafted smile. “But, for a very, very long time, I was certain he would be the last. But despite countless trials, setbacks, and… disappointments, it is one I have not given up in my one thousand, one hundred and ten years of ruling Equestria.”

“Wait,” Twilight interrupts, her eyes growing wide with the realization. Celestia patiently waits. “That would mean that the coming Summer Sun Celebration will be your one thousand, one hundred and eleventh! Your ones-versary!”

Celestia smiles as Twilight beams. “Indeed. And for my Sister, since she has returned to us after a thousand year… hiatus, it will be her one hundred and eleventh.”

“One hundred and twelfth,” Luna corrects, if just to be contrarian. “We were around for thou raising the sun last year.”

Celestia scoffs. “Then you weren’t around for the Summer Sun Celebration a thousand years ago.”

Luna pouts. “Fine,” she concedes, settling down. “This will be our one hundred and eleventh.”

Twilight practically explodes with excitement. “And this will be my first! As an alicorn and a Princess, that is.” She spins to beam at Cadance. “And this will be your…” She pauses, frowning. “Wait. You’ve been an alicorn, what, twenty years?”

“True,” Cadance confirms, “But I have been a student for a good number of those years, yes?” She shoots a wink at the lavender alicorn busily chewing her hooves to shreds. “One could argue that this will be my eleventh as a Princess, yes?”

“You know what this means?” Twilight’s hooves can barely contain her smile as she beams at her fellow Princesses. “This will be our combined one thousand, two hundred, thirty-fourth Summer Sun Celebration!” She spins to face her herdmates. “We have to do something!”

“~One, two, three, four,” Celestia repeats, singing the numbers. One can almost hear the guitar in the background, a forlorn melody that doesn’t match the excitement Twilight and the others show.

“~Tell me that you love me more,” Doug chants, keeping to the mournful tone.

Tears come to the alabaster mare as she pieces together snippets of the heisted song. She briefly lifts her head to regard her Sister before dropping down.

“~Sleepless long nights
Left you with nothing but they want some more.
Oh, uh, oh, you’re changing your heart.
Money can’t buy you back the love that you had then.”

Celestia blankly looks up, barely noting the eager anticipation on everypony’s faces, and even on a few of the non-ponies making up the back ranks.

For a moment, she lets the veil slip. For all that her coat is an illustrious white it seems to wither and gray, as if her centuries were finally allowed to take their toll on her. Crows feet around her eyes that would properly be termed a murder, for all the sorrows she has seen or caused, prevented or simply let happen. Those magenta depths, containing countless ponies lost to the relentless march of time, her memories of them locked as stars in a demiplane few know how to access. A vault that can scarcely contain the crushing despair, the futility, the sheer indifference of the universe to mortal plight.

Her somber tone dissipates any remnants of their jovial moods. Only Pinkie Pie seems unaffected, her carefree smile a sharp contrast to the haunted looks the others share.

“Approximately three hundred years ago,” Celestia begins, forcing herself to calmly gaze across the audience. Her voice is steady, though it threatens to drop to a despondent haze at any moment. “I met a pegasus by the name of Rising Heights. He was everything one would want in a mate. Dedicated, both to his craft and to his partners. He pushed himself to ever higher heights, as his name might suggest, and there truly seemed to be no limit. I admired his drive, and he encouraged and challenged me to train my own capabilities further than any other.” Her wings spread out, displaying their impressive plumage. Celestia offers a melodramatic sigh and shake of her head. “Alas, I fear I have lost some of my tone in the ensuing centuries.”

A few scattered chuckles and mentions of cake percolate from the audience, as if they are unsure of whether or not they are supposed to laugh at or even with the diarch. Those that do keep their eyes on the alicorn while the others nervously glance at their rulers, most of whom have looks of barely disguised contempt at an admittance of weakness.

Celestia holds the position for a few seconds before continuing. She has a fond smile, if forlorn, speaking with a slight shake of her head. “If he had one failing, it was that he had an entrenched opinion on everything, even if - especially if - he was not the most informed on the subject. In fact, you could have said that he was full of hot air, enough for an entire court of nobles!”

This time the reactions are reversed, with many of the rulers grinning at the reminder of their own subjects who oftentimes interject ideas far outside their areas of expertise. The few nobles in attendance, mostly from the Realm of Clouds, take the ribbing with the good nature it was intended, though they are mostly thinking of their colleagues. The gloom from earlier lifts, if slightly, ears perking up while smiles encroach on dour muzzles.

“It certainly helped during the long conversations we had while we soared, about every topic under the sun. And his endurance!” A twinkle shines in Celestia’s eye as treasured memories bubble to the surface. She stands still for a moment, just staring off into the distance. On the opposite side of Doug a wing spreads its feathers, as if welcoming her beloved to her side.

“We could, and would, spend all day - and sometimes multiple - just soaring through the skies, riding thermals while we... rested.” A sly smile spreads across the alabaster muzzle, absolute certainty that they were not merely resting. This draws more laughs, though they immediately cease at the sorrowful look in Celestia’s eyes.

“It was during one of these flights that the unthinkable happened.” Celestia’s remorse is palpable, withers sagging as her head bows. “Perhaps I thought that this time, that he might be different. That what we shared was special enough to make manifest for more than a tortured moment. It would be a lie to say that I did not know this might occur. But when our love was denied-”

Her breath catches, and the hall is silent. She diverts her red and blackened eyes, tears fizzing into steam. Her mane, the ever-flowing rainbow of pastels, ignites into a mass of oranges and reds and pinks, billowing behind her as an inferno. Heat radiates into the crowd, not enough to burn but enough for nopony to want to step closer.

“Excuse me,” Celestia stammers as an afterthought, swiftly spinning and leaving a glowing afterimage of her flaming mane.

Doug has been sitting there impassively. He never likes hearing about Celestia’s - or, for that matter, any of his mare’s - previous partners, even if the stallion in question is long deceased. But Celestia’s hurried step, her fervent search even as she aims straight for him, is too much. He spreads his arms wide, openly welcoming the despondent mare despite her reckless charge.

Her horn misses his neck by mere inches as she buries her head against his chest. Scalding drops sizzle as they splash against his armor. She twists as his arms envelop her, wishing the protective plate was not between them.

“Hey,” he consoles with all of his heart, gripping his mare against him with all of his strength. And yet it isn’t enough, not even close, and he hates that she has to hold back or crush him like a can.

And so he ignores the pain, the burning in his hands, the fleeting thought that he might singe Rarity’s present, to merely hold her as best he can.

“It’s okay,” they both say.

Celestia effortlessly breaks his grip to pull her head away. She rests her nose against his, staring into his eyes. He is too stunned by her attempt to console him to speak, running his hands through the sweltering mane.

“I would never do this to you,” she promises, barely above a whisper yet loud enough for everycreature to hear.

“Never do what?” Doug asks, puzzled, even as it feels like she is doing exactly that.

Celestia blinks. “Oh,” she says with a single chuckled snort. With a thought she calms the inferno behind her, the temperature of the room gradually returning to something comfortable. She notes the pinkness of the skin along his exposed neck, nuzzling the tender spots with light kisses. “I shall make this up to you.”

“Make what up?” Doug asks with a carefree smile, one gloved hand slipping from her side to caress her neck. “This?” He continues upward, drawing a faint line across her muzzle until the cutie marks embroidered on the glove are visible to both. “Rarity might have been disappointed if I lost the reminder she made, but it’s nothing to losing you.”

“You are too kind,” Celestia replies, kissing the golden sun on the base of his thumb. She declines to go further, much as she can sense his growing desire. “Where was I?”

“Something happened to Rising Heights?” Doug asks, engrossed in the tiny bit of tongue that peeks out between her lips. “You fire him?”

Celestia starts, then takes a deep breath. She would never hide something from her stallion, much as she might want to, nor the Council. The truth would come out, and she firmly believes that is preferable to any lie, no matter how well intentioned.

“In a sense,” she replies, hanging her head. “In my fury I incinerated him, the only remnants ashes scattered by the wind.”

“Hah!! No way!” Garble laughs uproariously as Celestia reveals the final fate of Rising Heights. He doubles over, slaps his knee, then topples over to roll on the floor. He couldn’t care less about the scornful glares he draws from the ponies. “Serves him right! If you can’t stand the heat?”

“Then you shouldn’t fire up the oven!” Ember shares his mocking grin, standing up straight to better regard the mournful alicorn. The dragon manages a nod, but finds Celestia’s dour look distasteful. “That’s lava. I didn’t know ponies had stories like that!” She raises a clawed fist toward Celestia, fangy smile stretching from horn to horn.

Celestia glances at the fist before returning to Ember’s giddy gaze, otherwise not moving a muscle from her position next to Doug. Anypony else might have difficulty curtailing their fiery reaction to the dragon’s praise, but she keeps her calm with a practice honed over centuries of pulling double duty at the Day and Night Court.

Rarity, on the other hoof, shows no such reservation. She fearlessly intercedes despite barely coming halfway up the red dragon’s waist.

“You callous…” Rarity stumbles over calling the dragons brutes again; they probably would wear it as a badge of honor. “Savages! Can’t you see how much it hurt her?”

“Hurt her?” Ember looks genuinely surprised. “What are you talking about?” Her face lights up in recognition. “Oh! You mean how she missed a meal!” She knowingly nods, ignoring Rarity’s look of pure horror. “Yeah, I can see that. Whenever Torch, that is my dad Dragon Lord Torch,” she makes little air quotes around the name with a huff of teenage rebellion, “would tell his stories? Seriously, half of them would end with some sort of feast over the charred remains.”

“You… buh… huwuah?” Rarity can barely string words together as she stares at the teal dragon, one eye twitching.

Fluttershy does a much better way of putting what everypony is thinking into words. “That’s… horrible.”

“What are you talking about?” Ember asks again, delighting in her new favorite phrase and how it provokes such an irate response from the ponies. “Dragons love stories about weak creatures getting what’s coming to them. And it sounds like this Riding Tights guy got roasted ‘cause he wasn’t good enough.”

“Perhaps,” Celestia interjects before Rarity’s horn can spark worse than Tempest Shadow’s. She addresses the ponies, explaining, “I paid my penance after the act. My little ponies were understandably upset and distraught, but it was out of solace for my well-being rather than fear for their lives. They even tried to block me from spending my extra time in service to the country, such as reinstating the Night Court and enabling more petitioners to appear in pony!”

“I-I see,” Rarity says, mortified at having her Princess reprimand her. She backs up until she again sits between Applejack and Rainbow Dash.

Celestia turns to the two dragons. “I know dragons value strength.” Ember and Garble nod, flexing their pectorals unconsciously. “There are many kinds of strength. And I think it would be unfair to judge anypony, or indeed anycreature, on their ability to withstand the Breaker of Day. For even dragons are not immune when the very air fuses together.”

Ember’s laugh dies in her throat. There have been very few times that ponies and dragons directly clashed, and even fewer that resulted in dragon casualties. Much less ones from it being too hot, for creatures that delight in bathing in flowing lava. The only, obvious and extreme, example being when Celestia stopped a rogue band of dragons that were transporting an antimagic throne with the intent of devouring her and her ponies. Whose stoppage had resulted in The Badlands, the resulting wasteland not from radiation but the twisting of the leylines when she drew in so much power.

“Yeah, sure,” she concedes, hastily withdrawing a few steps back.

“You went nu-” Doug starts before cutting himself off, the color of his face doing an excellent imitation of the alabaster mare.

“Yes,” Celestia replies smoothly. She cocks her head to the side just slightly and asks innocently, “Why? What do you think powers the sun?”

The disarming smile Celestia shoots Doug is so disconcerting he almost cannot believe the words. “C-cake?” he offers, forcing a toothy smile.

Celestia laughs, high pitched and long and very unbecoming of a Princess. Luna tries to stay stoic, a more proper model of behavior, but gritting her teeth cannot contain her irked glare at her Sister.

“Yes,” Celestia concedes as she brings her chuckling under control. “Yes; I suppose, in a manner of speaking, the sun really does run on cake.”

Tempest Shadow steps forward imperiously, yet with an understandable note of trepidation. “Your foals,” she states, as close to demanding as one can get when addressing their superior without crossing the line. She jealously glances at Celestia’s belly. “Will your foal share your… solar abilities?”

Celestia’s jovialness fades at the harsh stare the broken-horned unicorn fixes her with, along with any hope of avoiding the subject.

“We are still running tests,” Twilight Sparkle cuts in. Her ears flatten as Tempest Shadow’s glare turns to her. “But so far, Cadance’s foal runs over eleven times as strong as a normal unicorn. Celestia’s and Luna’s are under three, mine slightly below that. But the distribution and strength of a pony’s abilities are closely related to their cutie mark; it would be impossible to guess at this point where their specialties will lie.”

Tempest Shadow snorts, her misgivings resonating with the others, even some of the ponies. “And will they share your… reluctance to turn that power on those that fail to satisfy them?” She glances at Doug. “Will their caretakers be able to rein them in? To contain them?” She spins, striding two steps to address Cadance and Shining Armor. “Will your bodies survive, or will your foals eat away at you like the walls of our thaumic reactors?”

“N-nothing like that has ever been reported,” Twilight starts, her words utterly failing to calm the growing murmurs. Even her herdmates exchange unsure looks, worry spreading like wildfire among everycreature.

Tempest continues, unconvinced, “And wasn’t illegal dark magic involved?”

Pinkie Pie pronks up, pointedly pointing out, “Precedent, per the Pony Princess Progeny Project, permits projects pertaining to pony Princess procreation.”

The loud snort that follows doesn’t just come from Tempest, though Chrysalis’ grumbles seem more directed at the pink earth pony than at the dire situation with the foals.

“I have a presentation that answers this and many other questions,” Twilight says, hoping to quell the rising fears. She finds herself relaxing as she thinks about her lecture. “I assure you, we will do our best to alleviate any suspicions, fears, or doubts you have about the process my fellow Princesses and I are going through and our intentions regarding the same.”

“More talking?” Garble complains, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. Nevertheless, he and the other creatures return to their seats, disquiet simmering under the surface.

Twilight’s hooves beat an irregular pattern as she anxiously grabs at her notes, eyes darting this way and that as she paces back and forth. “No… no… Won’t be able to use that, we already covered this but it sounds like they want more detail…” Spike rides on her back, silently reading from a scroll and pantomiming motions to some unseen audience behind him.

“Hey,” Doug says as he walks over to the alicorn bordering on hysteria. He drops down to better look her in the eye. “I know calming them down is a tall order. But you can do it. I believe in you.” He smiles at both of them, rubbing at Twilight’s jaw.

“Oooh,” Twilight mutters, strands of hair frizzing away from the rest of her mane. She can barely tear herself away from her notes to glance at Doug. “Are you sure about this?”

“Twi,” Doug starts as he walks over. He doesn’t have a brush, but his fingers are an admirable substitute for smoothing out the unkempt parts of her mane. Besides, he prefers using them. “You’re going to do great. You and Spike practiced, right?”

“We did,” Twilight says, gulping. She forces a chuckle. “I can’t believe you got this method from studying bears.”

“Polar bears,” Spike adds with a smile.

“That’s…” Not exactly right. “Close enough. It always got a few laughs out of me.”

Two giant, glistening violet orbs stare up at him. Her voice shakes. “You don’t think it’s going to be… inappropriate?”

“Your material is inherently inappropriate,” Doug points out. “Using levity will break that and make it easier to talk about.”

A thin smile spreads across the lavender muzzle. “Thanks.”

Doug chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “There’s just one change you need to make. Spike, instead of starting off riding Twilight, you need to swoop in and screech like a bald eagle.”

“I do?” Spike asks. He glances back as he spreads his wings. “I guess I can do that.”

“Perfect.” Doug turns back to Twilight, nodding at her. “Now, giddy-up!”

A hand swats Twilight in the flank, the mare automatically lurching a few steps toward the stage. Her head turns, startled for a moment, before her smile returns. Her horn flares, unfolding and dragging a special chalkboard with a raspberry glow.

Twilight saunters onto the stage, sparing a glance at the other creatures expectantly watching her. She wishes she brought her favorite lecturing hat, the replica of Star Swirl the Bearded’s belled hat she painstakingly made with Meringue. Her favorite lecturing partner - Spike - will have to suffice.

The purple dragon happily glides through the air, scanning the crowd like an eagle, or possibly a griffon. Several colors of chalk spin between his claws while he marks on a miniature blackboard, his words duplicating onto the main board. The list is tucked away in case they forget their position, but they went over it enough on the trip that they have the general structure memorized.

Despite this Twilight does not look concerned, even as Spike misses his landing on her back and ends up tumbling head over tail along the stage. She rolls her eyes as he shakes off her attempt to help, rising back into the air. The second time he makes it, landing on her back and riding just like they did before. Then he screeches, loud and right in her ear.

“Good afternoon,” she starts, rubbing at her ear. She waits a brief second and gets no reply; at least, she can't hear one. She forces a smile to her muzzle, clearing her throat. She writes ‘A Brief Synopsis of Alicorn Reproduction’ at the top of the chalkboard before turning to her audience.

The words ‘No flash photography or video recordings, please’ appear on the center of the chalkboard.

Twilight appears not to notice, starting on her speech. “For over eleven hundred years Princess Celestia and her Sister, Princess Luna, have been searching for a method through which they could bear offspring. Princess Cadance joined their search when she became an alicorn. Sadly, their efforts have, until recently, proven fruitless.”

The chalkboard writes an enlarged ‘Can we have a demonstration?’ that leaves a couple Council members snickering.

“They referred to this as ‘Harmony’ interfering, and spent many years figuring out the cause and potential solutions. None of their efforts worked, their young terminating shortly after conception. Approximately eight years ago the being now known as Prince Consort Doug Apple arrived. His magic-less nature inspired Princess Celestia to broaden her search. She scoured ancient tomes and the cutting edge of magic breakthroughs, even consulting texts previously forbidden due to their inherent danger. In the end, Lord Tirek’s magic drain provided a foundation on which she based her research.”

At the name the murmurs increase, a good number of limbs crossing over chests as glares intensify.

“And what of the dangers?” Delegate Gruff calls out, beak gnashing. “The Council was never informed of this! What if it had gone wrong?”

The blackboard draws a large question mark.

Twilight sighs before answering, “It was an internal affair, and undertaken for benevolent reasons. In this case, because nopony else ever cast the spell near Princess Celestia, the danger of her getting her magic drained was minimized.”

“But not eliminated,” Gruff accuses.

“With magic research it is impossible to eliminate all risks,” Twilight says sternly. “Teams of unicorns had already been assembled in case the sun, moon, and/or night sky needed to be shifted by another entity.” The blackboard shows three crude stick figure unicorns, horns lit, and a depiction of the night sky.

The griffon grumbles as he slumps back, unimpressed.

“To explain where the research ended up, I first need to explain a little bit about pony biology.”

The blackboard helpfully adds, ‘When a stallion and a mare love each other very much…’

Despite herself, Twilight rolls her eyes. “When a mare gets pregnant-”

The words ‘love each other’ get underlined twice. Twilight ignores this.

“-The foal growing inside her requires large amounts of thaums provided, of course, by the dam.” Twilight motions to her belly as a physical reminder of her aside. “Outside sources providing that magic for a non-alicorn is impractical, to the extent that it is possible only in the short term - a day or so at most - and proved impossible for any amount of time for alicorns.”

“Do you have examples of ponies successfully using this?” Alira, the Saddle Arabian delegate, asks politely.

“Um,” Twilight says, glancing back at Spike. He shrugs. “Off the top of my head? For foals, no. The only creature it would have been relevant with would have been Doug, but by the time it was realized he could get a pony pregnant several weeks had gone by and the foal was healthy. When we - that is, Princesses Celestia, Luna, and myself - conceived? No intervention would have been possible.”

Alira frowns. “And of this other technology? The one you said was good in the short term.”

“Oh, that?” Twilight smiles at a question that does have a definite answer. “Unicorns - technically all ponies, but it’s easiest for unicorns - can charge a device to temporarily store their magic, often called a ‘battery’. You can, though only in the most dire of circumstances, force this magic into another pony.”

The chalkboard reads ‘Twilight Associated With Vamponies?!?’ She cuts off the murmurs before they can begin accusing her of stealing pony’s magic. At least, at this point in the lecture.

“However, there are two fatal flaws. One, you need a way to get the magic into a pony; this involves ripping a hole in their magical core, out of which the newly inserted magic and all their own magic will leak. Even if you can repair that leak - doing so while magic is rushing out is nearly impossible - the core recognizes that magic is not its own, and rejects it. You need to fully saturate the pony and the area around them in order to keep equilibrium, and that solution is unstable at best. My herdmate, Rainbow Dash, had experimental treatment of this kind after an… injury. She survived, barely, and took several years to fully recover.”

Twilight stops for a moment, and the chalkboard adds, ‘I told you that story to tell you this one…’

Twilight huffs. “Indeed. And previous attempts by Celestia, Luna, and Cadance resulted in a hybrid unable to cope with the prohibitively high amount of alicorn magic or starved by a unicorn’s.” She pauses a moment, frowning to herself. “At least, that’s what she theorized; the lifespan was never long enough, and attempts too taxing, to really study the phenomenon.”

Three dots appear on the chalkboard, the room silent.

“Tirek’s magical drain,” Twilight continues; a few grumbles come up, both at the mention and the dropping of his title, “as the name might suggest, drains ponies of their magic.”

“Dark magic of the vilest sort,” one of the other griffons asserts loudly.

A grim, forced smile crosses Twilight’s muzzle. Nevertheless, she continues, “Princess Celestia began testing the spell, primarily with Doug and his lead mare, Applejack, in order to refine the modifications she made. These modifications enabled her to tightly focus the spell, but this extended the casting time in order to eliminate from consideration every locus other than the one to be affected. She practiced this spell, but was afraid of the consequences should she lose control.” Twilight pauses for a moment, looking to the side, as she recounts what casting the spell on Cadance was like and how easily it could have gone wrong.

‘Doom the planet!’ appears on the chalkboard, a few members laughing nervously.

Twilight takes a deep breath before confessing, “That is one of the reasons that Celestia wanted me to cast the spell on Cadance. In case I went rogue, she would be there to oppose me. But if she was corrupted by the power? The whole planet would bow to her whim.”

“Equus already bows to her every whim,” Gruff says lazily as he flicks two claws against each other. “Nightmare Moon - that is, Princess Luna - wished to spread eternal night. What shall your foals, in their infantile wisdom, desire?”

“That’s…” Twilight starts before stopping, puzzled. “That’s a hard question to answer.”

“I propose we table that discussion,” the Storm King says from his reclined position at the back of the room. “Otherwise we’ll be here forever.”

“Seconded,” calls Iron Grip.

Twilight nods to herself. “Casting the modified drain on the stallion’s sperm as it enters the ova means that the magical core that arises is inherited only by the dam. The same result occurs when Doug is the sire. There is no longer the magical incompatibility, and the healthy alicorn foal develops normally.” She frowns, tapping her quill against her muzzle. “Actually, we aren’t really sure what ‘normal’ looks like, at least for alicorn foals. The only comparison we have are those sired by Doug, which isn’t exactly a good comparison.”

Twilight pauses to sketch out an earth pony, unicorn, and pegasus, then an alicorn. “If we compare how our pregnancies are progressing compared to the much larger database of the more common subtypes, two things stand out. One, the ‘power draw’, as it were, for alicorns is much higher. Approximately eight times higher, though Cadance’s foal is only slightly higher. This is different from the power readings we get from the foals themselves, and we believe the discrepancy to be a consequence of Doug’s… makeup. This increase also lines up with my estimates of how my thaumic capabilities changed after I ascended. However, much like Celestia, Luna, and Cadance, my abilities have continued to increase as time goes on.”

Twilight taps her hoof against her muzzle, thinking to herself. “Um, that’s all I have for now. Are there any questions?”

“So, that’s a no on demonstrations?” Garble asks, scratching at his head.

Twilight chuckles, shaking her head. “Not unless you have a volunteer.”

Garble raises his foot, though Ember’s death glare stops him from kicking her.

Twilight rolls her eyes. “Anyone else?”

“Nopony else?” Twilight frowns as she looks over the assembled ponies. “Well, if you think of something later, we’ll be more than happy to answer any questions.”

A few moments pass while the various factions confer among themselves. Two of the griffons stand up and walk out, leaving Delegate Gruff alone and scowling at the ponies. An uneasy silence spreads through the auditorium, glances trading back and forth as if to prompt the others. It is broken when Prince Rutherford stirs.

The lumbering giant, fully clad in traditional Yakyakistan ceremonial fabrics, shakes the floor as he stomps to the stage. It takes him quite some time at his unhurried pace, everycreature speculating what the leader of the traditionally xenophobic Yaks will ask. He saunters forward, heedless of the lavender alicorn standing on his stage. Twilight squawks in alarm and backpedals rather than get trampled by the gargantuan.

“Yak speak!” he booms with a self-assured nod. He acknowledges only Princess Celestia and, to Twilight’s surprise, Chrysalis, before he focuses mostly on his two compatriots.

“Of course,” Twilight yields. She waits patiently, especially given how inconsiderate he was.

Silence stretches, but the Prince doesn’t seem to be mulling over what he is about to say. After an uncomfortably long time he turns, fixing Twilight with a single unblinking eye.

“Sorry!” Twilight quickly apologizes, hastily flying to the rest of her herd. The yak grumbles, but turns back to the audience.

“Yak hear aspiration of changeling,” Prince Rutherford starts, offering the aforementioned Architect a respectful nod. It shakes his long mane, sending the braided ends jiggling back and forth. “Glorious aspirations they are! Who impugn such a goal?” He has to tilt his head up so everycreature can see his glaring eyes from under his ceremonial hat. “Yak certainly not! Though changeling have to be happy with second, because Yak best!”

He stomps, just once, sending a shockwave through the auditorium. While a few had giggled at his brash assertion any noise ceases as the reverberations settle. Chrysalis wears a bemused smirk, fully intent on contesting his assertion through the only way that matters - her actions.

“But changeling have good point about choice! Not Yak good. But close! Every Yak make choice about what to do with life.” Prince Rutherford holds up his right hoof and looks at it, then repeats the maneuver on his left side for each choice. “Yak look for wood for fire? Or Yak sit. Yak look for hay to sleep? Or Yak sit. Yak look for log for Yickslurbertfest? Or Yak sit.”

He shrugs, pacing around the stage and sending minor tremors with every step. His head pauses as he fixes every creature with a long, contemptuous stare, piercing even through his thick mane. Twilight scribbles furiously, transcribing his speech and adding notes about names she doesn’t recognize. He ends with a loud snort.

“It easy to sit. But does sit warm hoof on cold night? No. Does sit make nice spot for koe-shun with mate? No. Does sit honor Yak custom with smashing? No. Sit easy. Some time we need sit. But if sit all Yak do, then Yak die.” He pauses on the point. “So Yak must think of future. And future with no Yak no future at all.”

Prince Rutherford motions with a wide sweep of his leg, indicating all the gathered creatures.

“Yak value future. Pony value future. Griffon value future. Dragon value future. How Yak know? Because raise family hard! Foal hard. Chick hard. Egg hard. Think find wood hard? Hah! Try dig out hut from Yickslurbertfest snow drift! Very important to teach custom to baby Yak. Not braid Yak hair until she know when smash and when not smash. Yak not barbarian! Hard to teach, easy to sit! But if all sit, then no future. All value future. How know? Just ask question. Did Doug sit?”

Chuckles bubble up from the room. Doug nods along, chagrinned; he mostly certainly had not been sitting these past months. Celestia and Luna squeeze closer on each side while Twilight wriggles her rump between his legs. Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash nuzzle him from behind, each trying to nestle as close as they can.

“So Yak must look for wood, for hay, for log. Nocreature give Yak help, and Yak need nocreature help! So Yak look! Most time, Yak find. No danger. So Yak take. Some time, Yak find, but also find danger.” Prince Rutherford peers intently, as if evaluating some object off in the distance. “Maybe wolf, maybe frozen river. Yak must think, and Yak best at think! Yak think of self. Yak think of family. Yak think of future. Yak carefully weigh chance of hurt, chance of death.” He squats down to motion with both legs as if he was judging a set of scales. “Some time chance too high. Better Yak sit.” He tosses the imaginary scales away and stands up. “But if Yak sit? Family cold. If Yak sit? No new daughter. If Yak sit? Holiday ruined and family shamed. Sit too many time, no future. And future with no Yak no future at all.”

He pauses again, looking over the crowd. “So some time, Yak must take risk. Yak learn what risk to take, or what risk to not take. Sometime learn from own mistake, sometime learn from… fallen Yak.”

His head drops down, right hoof coming to his bearded chest, the other two yaks mirroring his contrite and respectful stance.

Prince Rutherford stands, keeping his gaze roaming around the crowd but always returning to Celestia. “But what if one Yak make choice for all Yak? All Yak live, or all Yak die?”

His voice shifts to a deeper, more reverent tone as he recounts the story. “In ancient time, great Yak Prince Ulysses fight great battle. But battle hard! There chance no Yak survive. And future with no Yak no future at all. So wise Prince Ulysses must think. Is future with Yak more important than Yak proving Yak best? What chance Yak lose? Flip of bit? Hah! Yak stronger than flip of bit! Maybe four flip of bit in row? Ten?”

He shrugs, daring anycreature to counter him. “Wise Prince look at odds. He must think. He think of self, but not just of self. He think of family, but not just mate and daughter. He must think of future family. One chance in sixteen not likely. How much less one chance in thousand! But compare to life of all Yak, for all time?”

He shakes his head, forlornly looking over the crowd.

“Yak pride not worth chance. Better to take peace, take survival of all Yak, over pride. Future with no Yak no future at all. So wise Prince Ulysses make bargain with Lord Scintilla. Forge peace with volcano and ensure Yak future. Yak make ancestral home high in mountain. Yak live good life. Best life! Not easy life. Yak life. Was bargain good bargain?”

He changes stride, focusing on Celestia and Twilight. “Some ask, why talk of Yak past and Yak future? What choice could Yak make that bother dragon, that bother griffon? Impossible. Yak not care what dragon or griffon do. But Princess do make choice that affect all.”

His hoof points at the belly Tempest Shadow was so jealous of earlier. “We hear from magic pony about alicorn power. And alicorn powerful! No Yak deny great Celestia most powerful! Her command move sun through sky! What Yak match claim?” He shrugs, again daring any to counter his assertions. “She say power not unique, but no other creature move sun through sky during her thousand year reign. Maybe Discord. But who trust trickster?”

His voice shifts again, now scoffing and almost scornful. “We hear story about Tirek Incident. How all pony, including Princess pony, about to lose magic. We hear how she give up power to move sun. But! Only to other alicorn!” He shakes his beard to expose his toothy frown. “We hear tale, how ancient unicorn must give up magic to move sun through sky. Five, twice each day! Maybe better now. But even so! Two thousand, three thousand unicorn a year. Would be tragic loss. But doable. If need be, unicorn keep life going, and all would praise and celebrate their name!”

Prince Rutherford struts back and forth with exaggerated nods, cajoling the non-ponies to do the same. The Storm King is first with a curt rejoinder, the Saddle Arabians right behind. The griffons groan but follow suit, the minotaur with a loud snort and minute shift of his head. The dragons, however, keep their arms crossed across their chest, refusing to join.

“Why dragon no celebrate?!” Prince Rutherford demands, frothing at the mouth. “Pony sacrifice for all!”

“Duh,” Ember states, drawing an infuriated snort from the yak. “You know where dragons live? Caves. You know what dragons eat? Gems. You wanna guess what those two things don’t need? I’ll give you three guesses.” She smirks at his building rage. “Sun. Oops, now you won’t get it wrong twice. Sorry.”

“Dragon take that back!” Prince Rutherford shouts, stomping back and forth. His two compatriots join in, threatening to destroy everything around them. “Or Yak declare war! Raagh!”

“Now, let’s not be too hasty,” Twilight jumps in as she flies between the two, well, warring factions. “Nopony, I mean, nocreature is declaring war. Okay?”

“Aww, you got your little pony princess to protect you?” Ember teases, fluttering her eyes like she is looking at a baby. “That’s so sweet!”

“What?!” Prince Rutherford shouts in disbelief. “Pony princess protecting dragons from Yaks! Yak need nopony help!” He spins to glare at Twilight, Ember joining him. “Pony stay out of dragon and Yak business!”

“Yeah!” Ember agrees, nodding along.

“Well,” Doug quips as Twilight drops back down into his lap, “I guess you succeeded at uniting them. Good job?”

“Urgh,” Twilight moans, covering her face with her hooves, as Ember and Prince Rutherford go back to glaring at each other, but a lot of their animosity for each other has been neatly shifted toward Twilight.

“Besides,” Ember states categorically, “dragons already beat the Yaks in a war. And nothing’s changed except the dragons are bigger.”

“What?!” Prince Rutherford roars. “Impossible!”

“Dude, you just recounted the history of it.” Ember frowns at his uncomprehending look. “You know? That Lord Scintilla your Prince U-lose fought? That was a Dragon Lord, not some stupid volcano.”

Prince Rutherford stares at Ember for a moment before his head raises to the ceiling, a hoof scratching at his long beard as he tries to recall just what exactly was on their ancient parchments.

“Prince U-lose,” Pinkie Pie snorts, elbowing Doug. “That’s what you should name your first colt with one of the Princesses.”

“I was thinking Garr,” Doug counters.

“Garr?” Pinkie Pie frowns, trying to place the name and failing.

“Estwo,” Doug adds. “He needs to be red and black, so it’ll probably be with Luna.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard today,” Chrysalis rebuts, “and we’ve had to listen to Garble.” She looks around, but the red dragon slipped out at some point.

Doug lets loose an exaggerated pout. He’d cross his arms except he might have a riot from the nervous mares in front of him, his fingers staying right where they are: getting passed from ear to ear.

Prince Rutherford finally comes back down with a rare contrite expression. “Dragon right. Yak record of event… open to interpretation. Lord Scintilla make peace with Yak, and that make dragon only honorary Yak for all time!”

“Great,” Ember deadpans. “Dragons and Yaks get to be friends again!” She gags, squatting down in her spot. “Now, what were you blathering on about? Something about how the alicorns are going to destroy everything?”

“Wait, we are?” Cadance interrupts, huffing at Celestia, Luna, and Twilight. She’s a little jealous at the ear scratches they keep getting, and her Shiny isn’t as well-equipped. Even if he is dutifully nuzzling her. “How come I’m not invited to your meetings? Is it because you have a quorum without me?”

“No,” Shining Armor counters from Cadance’s side. “It’s because they perform their acts of congress during those meetings.” He winks at his sister, who looks ready to rebut his assertion. “Don’t even try it, sis. I’ve smelled your Equestrian Bar magazines; I know how you get when procedures are being followed.”

“Yak allow interruption for long enough!” Prince Rutherford booms. “Yak keep going!”

Twilight fumbles over her words, ending up grumbling about how that’s totally not why their meetings have Doug and not Spike to read the minutes and take notes.

“Prince Rutherford feel baby Yak kick. And baby Yak not strong like adult Yak! But Prince Rutherford also hear of baby unicorn. How baby unicorn lift toy, lift manger, lift sire. Some adult unicorn struggle to lift pony! And alicorn foal strong. How Yak know? Because dam strong! Strong dam, strong foal! Maybe not thousand time strong. Maybe three time strong, maybe eight, maybe eleven. But if alicorn foal strong like dam, pony easy to lift. But can teach foal what lift and what not lift? Can teach while foal in belly?”

Prince Rutherford solemnly shakes his head, answering his question.

“But lift not only thing unicorn foal do. Some blast magic. Some unicorn blast go through armor. Celestial blast go through mountain. What happen when alicorn foal blast go through dam? We hope alicorn survive. Can alicorn move sun while hurt? Can unicorn steal sun while alicorn hurt?

Twilight’s eyes widen, the other mares almost in a panic. What sort of discharges did a unicorn foal have while still in the womb? She didn’t come across any recorded cases of death or even serious injury. But they aren’t dealing with unicorn foals here; granted, three of the four are hybrids, but what of Cadance’s foal?

“We stand on precipice,” Prince Rutherford states solemnly. “On edge of cliff. Why take step closer to edge?” He spins around, pacing the other way. “Chance fall. Chance not fall. Why make fall chance bigger? But not just Yak on edge, but all creature.”

Princess Celestia straightens her back and neck, staring ahead. She sets her face to a mask of calm, hiding the turmoil within, for she knows where they are heading.

“Yak concede,” Prince Rutherford says with a conciliatory wave at Celestia, “alicorn foal special. How special?” He pauses as if to consider. “One thousand pony special? Maybe. If Princess had to make choice, would she allow one thousand pony to die to save alicorn foal?”

Princess Celestia wants to shake her head no, that she wouldn’t sacrifice that many ponies to keep her foal alive. But she cannot, for that would be a lie; she deliberately took that risk when her Sister returned to her side, even if the Celestial regalia might have changed color.

“How many generation of pony to come?” Prince Rutherford’s gaze wanders from creature to creature. The others are sitting up straight as well, determination and solidarity quite evident in their hard faces. “How many Yak? Griffon? Dragon? One thousand generation? Ten thousand? What one pony, a thousand pony, compared to thousand generation of creature?”

“We wouldn’t…” Twilight starts before trailing off, the yak ignoring her as he walks off the stage. Her breath catches in her throat as she considers the ramifications of his statement. She steals a glance at her mentor and herdmate, unable to pierce the stoic exterior.

“Okay, I’m confused,” Rainbow Dash says, the rest of the Elements sharing her uncertainty. She looks around the room, noting the hard stares. One eye scrunches up as she tries to distill the yak’s meandering speech. “You think the alicorn foals are some sort of, um, existential threat? I’m sorry, but I don’t see that.”

“You don’t?” Tempest Shadow adds in from the side, her grin far too wide. She strides forward to better address the Equestrians. “Then let me sum his argument up. What if something happens to Celestia’s foal?” She shrugs, but her face never loses her certainty. “Who can say what Harmony has planned? For she denied Celestia her earlier foals, as tragic as that was.” She taps at her broken horn. “I know what a unicorn can do, even at an early age. At what age does your foal start kicking? Start testing their magic? Could she injure herself, kill herself, unsure of her own strength?” She shakes her head, allowing a brief moment of sympathy for the alicorns. “It could be nocreature’s fault. But it could happen.”

“Okay,” Rainbow Dash says, unsure. She crosses her forelegs in front of her. “That would be tragic, yes.”

“If, Celestia forbid, something were to happen?” Tempest Shadow shifts from addressing Rainbow Dash to Celestia. “How likely are you to decide that because your foal was again denied, this time the closest that you’ve ever gotten, that the entire world should bathe in flame? Or that, because your foal was denied, that the world should likewise be denied their sun? For who could wrest the sun from your grasp, if you did not wish it so?”

“It, um,” Rainbow Dash stammers, unsuredly glancing at the Solar Diarch. Doug, obviously agitated, clenches his arm around her neck, looking to be reassuring himself more than Celestia. “Discord?”

“I’d take my chances surviving the flame,” Tempest Shadow states uncategorically, her gaze never leaving the alicorn.

Princess Celestia hangs her head. “I cannot deny the possibility.”

At her side, Luna flinches, appalled at the cowering. Doug tightens his fists, digging deep into the two alicorn’s fur. He whispers, yet loud enough for all to hear, “You cannot, just, give in to this! Think about what you are doing!”

“I am,” Celestia evenly replies, sighing heavily. “But it is not just her life I am considering.”

“Then the choice is clear,” Tempest Shadow says, drawing approving, if reluctant, nods from those behind her. “Or are you above the law? For if any of us,” she motions to the other creatures, “were attempting something that had even miniscule odds of destroying the world? Not just a country, or even a species. But the entire world. Would you allow it?” She shakes her head. “No, as you shouldn’t. And the rest of the world would band together to stop the perpetrators, no matter their species or station.”

“I have no intentions of performing any actions that might threaten the world,” Celestia states, still subserviently staring at the floor. Luna’s barely restrained growl does not go unnoticed. Twilight glances back, full of worry and doubt. Her eyes widen as she spots Doug smoldering.

“Just as you had no intention of roasting Rising Heights,” Tempest Shadow counters, nearly at a shout. “If we decide the risk is too much, that the future of not just Equestria but all of Equus is not worth gambling over the life of one foal then what will you do? When our armies march to enforce the will of the Council, how many ponies’ lives will you spend to ensure the survival of your own? How many griffons, dragons, yaks, or stormers must fall to equal the life of one foal?”

“I cannot say,” Celestia concedes, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then I will,” Doug roars as he stands, wishing he had his spear so he could raise it as a challenge.

“Doug,” Luna hisses, her warning ignored.

“You think sacrificing one foal will ensure your survival?” Doug laughs, harsh and forceful. “And how would you even do it? Convince her to abort her own foal? What you are proposing is heinous beyond belief! And, even worse, it is even more likely to bring about that mass destruction you all are so worried about!” He points, menacing, at Tempest Shadow. “So bring your armies, your allies, your assassins! If you think we won’t burn the world? Then you are wrong.”

“Prince Consort!” Princess Luna reprimands with a distinct emphasis on the role he fills. She whirls, whipping her tail like a lash. The sharp crack against the air draws Doug away from the sneering unicorn, Tempest Shadow daring him to come at her with more than words. “You forget your place!”

“What!?” Doug exclaims, shocked at the rebuke. He stares, slack-jawed, at the cobalt alicorn interposing herself between him and Tempest Shadow. It takes him a moment to recover; when he does he sweeps his arm at the gloating Yak prince. “Did you not just hear the same speech I did? They think our foal, Celestia’s foal, is a threat! They want to remove that threat!”

Luna’s starry expanse of a mane flares up, glints of teal in her eyes. She steps forward, in his face, concealing the others from view. The tip of her horn rises above him, but she hates how she has to look up. She discards the notion that she should kick his leg out from under him to get him to kneel.

“This is neither the time nor place,” she cautions, her words low and fast, “for braggart displays of strength and rash declarations of war!”

“Then when is?!” Doug bellows, furious. He can feel his face heating up, and looks from pony to pony, trying to find support. Yet all of them are cowed with ears back and laying low to the floor. Even Rainbow Dash, the pony he most expected to share his stance, is on the ground, though with hooves from Rarity and Applejack not quite holding her down but resting reassuringly on her back. “After they’ve passed a death sentence?”

Luna growls as she bares her teeth, her rage cold as ice, but it isn’t enough to get Doug to yield. She snorts, then spins to face Alira. She announces, “We request a brief recess.”

“Granted,” Alira says dubiously. The Saddle Arabian mare waves a hoof at them with a certain urgency. “Standard rules.”

“Of course.” Luna trots two steps to the closest exit. She stops, her flank even with Doug, regarding him with an uncompromising stare. “Come with me,” she commands, her tone brooking no disagreement.

Doug doesn’t trust himself to reply, gritting his teeth as he follows at her side. The laughs and jeers from Gruff and Ember don’t help matters either, and it’s all he can do to make it out of the room without snapping at them.

“Leave us,” Luna orders the two guards standing at the entrance. The cloth-clad pony and purple-emblazoned storm guard nod curtly before walking ten paces away, watching with cautious curiosity. Luna’s horn flares; a bubble blurs everything around them, the loud thumps of the guards’ boots muffling under a continuous buzz. She takes a deep breath, working hard to calm the emotions raging inside her.

“This is ridiculous,” Doug rants, one hand indicating the door they just came through. “You expect me to stand there and listen to those… uninformed loons prattle on about how much of a danger everycreature is in because Celestia and you and Twilight and Cadance decided to do what every mare has the capacity and desire to do? She’s not going to go crazy and decide to destroy the world just because this attempt doesn’t work out! And they haven’t even proven that it won’t work out, or that something bad is going to happen! It’s just a blatant power play, trying to force whatever concessions they can out of Celestia and you and the others because they know we desire peace, that we won’t go to war, and they think that we’ll settle for whatever they ask! I’m not going to stand there and let them strong-arm us like we’re some sort of simpering cucks waiting to be played! It’s, it’s, unthinkable letting them get away with this!”

Luna stands there stoically, letting his damning words pass her like the wind in her ever-flowing mane. She waits for him to take a breath, huff at her silence, and cross his arms across his chest.

“Art thou finished?” she patiently asks, slipping a few archaic terms into her speech. “Or dost thou have more grievances to air?”

Doug snorts, turning his head away to stare at the blurry wall. But there is no exasperation in her voice, no taunting, and he knows she would be willing to listen if he did continue. “Not right now,” he spits out, some of his anger fading, though he keeps his arms defiantly crossed.

“To answer thy points in order,” Luna calmly states. “First; yes, we do expect thou to allow anycreature to make their point in the vain hope that they might impart some kernel of wisdom amidst the offal they spew.”

Doug utters a quick laugh through his nose, looking back at her.

“If thou cannot continue in that capacity?” Piercing blue eyes stare into his. “We shall release you from these proceedings. Perhaps with Rainbow Dash to keep thou both occupied, or any or even all of the Elements if thou desires. No record would be made of this transfer, and t’would not be held against you.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Doug says, chastised. He does want to be a part of these proceedings, to be there for his mares, especially if this is what they have to suffer through. “I’ll watch my tongue. But don’t expect me to go along with something ridiculous.”

“Second,” Luna continues; a slight smile slowly grows as she notices Doug calming down. “Thou art speaking to the very pony who did, as thou stated so eloquently, ‘go crazy and decide to destroy the world’. We would contest that our intentions were to gain the acknowledgement and admiration of our little ponies rather than their destruction. But that is a moot point, as is the distinction that our bitterness was the result of years of neglect rather than a single instance of trauma.”

“A fair point,” Doug concedes with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. How had he missed that obvious example? If that’s what the other creatures are worried about… Would a coalition of the others be able to neutralize Celestia?

“Third,” Luna says, relaxing slightly; her dressing-down is proceeding much smoother than she feared. “They are not trying to prove that something will happen. Merely to raise the possibility. Perhaps they will push for some sort of concessions. A trophy to take back to their people, proof this Council is not purely a farce for our benefit. What of it?”

“And when those concessions include giving up the foal?” Doug scowls at the idea. “What then?”

“Then we talk. We negotiate. We trust our Sister to make the right decision. She must appear to be neutral, to consider all creatures, and not overly favor the little ponies she holds so dear.” Luna matches his scowl. “We happen to agree that ‘Tia lets herself be pushed around too much. But what is our position in the Equestrian government?” She turns to regard him, her question not rhetorical.

Doug frowns, puzzled at the jump in topic. “You are one of the two Princesses who rules Equestria. Though I’m not sure what will happen with Cadance and Twilight.”

“We may be considered diarchs by the populace,” Luna states evenly, though she chafes at having to put into words the distinction that she is subordinate. “But we are Princess Celestia’s second-in-command. Her right-hoof mare. The decisions she makes, when she makes them, are final. We will do our best to see them through, despite our own reservations and misgivings.”

“You’ve always valued my input before,” Doug says, feeling the urge to cross his arms across his chest again. “That’s one of the reasons she likes me, because I would voice my objections to her.”

“True, as far as it goes,” Luna says. “But as we said before, there is a time and a place. As Equestrians, we stand as one. A harmonious, unified front. We might disagree, but we settle those disagreements behind closed doors. We do not show public irritation with Celestia, or any of the Princesses. And we have war as our last resort, not our opening salvo.”

Doug does recross his arms this time. “I’m not going to apologize for what I said. I stand by it.”

Luna nods curtly. “That is your choice, and the price of your pride will be measured in bushels of apples and carats of gems. But know that there is a procedure we follow. A topic will be brought up. They will make their oft-unreasonable demands. Celestia, or some other, will rebuff the most egregious and concede on others. You saw this happen with Chrysalis.”

“So that’s why Gruff gets away with making those blatantly false accusations.” Doug grimly shakes his head. “There has to be a better way.”

“There is,” Luna sighs. “But the Equestrian way is one they have refused to accept, time and again. They have their own pride and desire to… remain culturally distinct.”

Doug rubs at his head, trying to process all this. After a moment he asks, “What was that Alira said to you about standard rules?”

“These are closed meetings,” Luna answers easily. “The proceedings of which are to be released only in a curated form. It allows all to voice their any concern without fear of reprisal. As such, we are not to communicate to those outside in any way about anything that goes on without approval.”

“Like when Spike called Sweetie Belle,” Doug says with a touch of disbelief. He groans. “And they follow this?”

“They have had little reason not to.” Luna focuses a hard look at Doug. “Celestia, to my knowledge, has never broken that trust, and she would still hold to it even if the others routinely failed to follow the code of honor.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Doug says flippantly. “Not like there’s anypony I would call.”

“Really?” Luna asks with a slight frown. “We would not underestimate your other two mares in the event a rescue attempt does need to be made, especially if they convinced Discord to assist.”

“Pfff,” Doug snorts, shaking his head. “What’s the likelihood of that happening?”

“Indeed,” Luna agrees with a smirk. She looks adorable, no trace of the cold rage from before.

It’s enough to get Doug to smile and draw close to her, looping an arm around her neck and hugging her tight. “I’m sorry if I jeopardized anything here. I didn’t mean to.”

“We understand,” Luna says softly. She dutifully wraps a foreleg around his waist. “And we are sorry if we have put a strain on our… friendship. Yet it is the responsibility of the second-in-command to administer such admonishments. This keeps the lead mare relatively free of perceived partiality and able to adjudicate without favoritism.” She pulls back slightly to better regard him. “Though we have not observed such action within your herd. Perhaps it is a mere artifact of the past.”

“Well, there’s not a lot they disagree on.” Doug shrugs, Luna returning to nestling against his chest. “You know,” he remarks, sighing at the realization. “I think this is the longest conversation we’ve had.”

“Perhaps,” Luna concedes as a blurry, hulking figure approaches. She pulls away, harder this time, Doug letting her go with only minor complaint. “But now is not the time to rectify such a grave error.”

Luna cancels her concealment, the hazy bubble around them fading. Raikou stands there, the Staff of Sacanas strapped to his back with the crystal tip peeking out. His broad grin gives the distinct impression that he listened to their entire conversation.

“Yes?” Luna demands, unamused.

“Your time is almost up,” the Storm King says conversationally, inspecting one of his two-fingered hands. He idly flicks off a bit of grit. “But I have to say, I’m impressed with how you dealt with the strife.” He watches Luna closely for any reaction, spotting none. “And got your… fiery tempered stallion back in line.” He flashes Doug a cheeky smile. “If you’re interested in a change of pace? We’re always looking for talent, and there’s plenty of opportunity for advancement! In fact, there might be a second-in-command position opening up very soon! That’ll really shake up the ranks, so if there’s a spot you want - logistics officer, henchman holding wrench, maybe even captain - we can make it happen.”

Doug eyes the tall storm creature cautiously. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says diplomatically. “But I have the feeling I’ll be swamped soon enough.” He nods courteously, preparing to go back inside with Luna.

“We offer free daycare,” Raikou offers. Doug stops in his tracks, a hand stroking his chin as he considers. Luna turns her head to stare questioningly at him, a little miffed. Raikou flashes his fangs, each perfectly white and gleaming. “And have I mentioned our dental plan?”

“I’m flattered by the offer,” Doug says firmly. “But I fear I must decline.”

“Hey, hey,” Raikou says quickly, walking up and embracing the human in a crushing one-arm hug. “Let’s not be too hasty! Are you worried you’re not qualified? We can train you up on the job!” His other arm sweeps wide. “Have you ever wanted to see the world? What’ll it take to get you on board?”

Luna intercedes with a rough snort. “He is not interested in anything you have to offer.”

“Ouch,” Raikou says, though he doesn’t appear to be affected by the rejection at all. He turns to Luna. “Hey, I get it. It must be tough, for your Sister to not even leave a shadow for you to walk in. I mean, she practically glows just standing there! Not that you’re bad yourself. But I know I wouldn’t be content giving up on any idea of advancement.”

Luna growls at his barely concealed assertion of her Sister’s dominance.

Before she can say anything Raikou continues, “But remember that second-in-command spot opening up?” He winks at Luna before opening the door and slipping inside.

Luna stares at the ajar door. Turbulent thoughts course through her mind; it is tempting, far more than she would like to admit. Yet not everypony can occupy the top spot, and her belly is proof she is advancing with her Sister. And she wouldn’t even be at the top spot under the Storm King! Even if it might be more visible than working during the night.

“You’re not seriously considering that, are you?” Doug asks.

“We find the offer wanting,” Luna replies as the two reenter the auditorium.

Doug and Luna make their way back to their seats, the ponies still subdued and quiet. Celestia has barely moved, head bowed, with an unfocused stare at the floor. Ember and Gruff forgo their jeering taunts, merely smirking at Doug as he sits down next to the white alicorn. The ponies again cluster around him, Twilight in front and between his legs, Luna on his other side, the rest of the mares a rainbow barrier of bodies.

Rubbing at Celestia’s neck barely draws more than a flick of her eyes before she returns to her despondent contemplation. “Hey,” Doug coos as he rubs at her again, this time tracing a line along her back, past her folded wings, almost to her tail before he slips to the side and runs his gloved nails along her belly. “We’ll get through this.” He tugs her closer, finally drawing a reluctant nuzzle from the side of her head. “All of us.”

Princess Celestia nods, forlorn. “We must have hope.” She leans, further this time, resting her head across his chest and against his thigh. Her breath, which comes in fits and snorts, tickles Twilight’s flank, her tail flicking irritably until she quells the motion with an apologetic glance.

Tempest Shadow stands at attention on the stage, clad in her black and violet barding with the Storm King’s teal insignia where her cutie mark would have been, imperiously watching with her neutral glare.

“Please understand,” Alira says from next to Tempest Shadow, the Saddle Arabian mare hesitant even as she tries to stand confidently. “We are not conducting this out of any sort of malice. We are truly looking for a solution that addresses all concerns in an acceptable manner. Know that you will be given a chance to voice any objections.”

Doug grunts from behind his palisade of ponies. “Fine.”

“If I may?” the orchid unicorn demands coldly. “Or is there anything else you wish to say?”

Doug would rather stand to say this part, but he’s not going to move Celestia from his lap. “I will do my best to not speak out of turn again,” he states, loud enough for all to hear. He waits a beat as Tempest stares at him. “...That is all.”

“Very well.” Tempest Shadow grunts at the lack of apology as she starts pacing back and forth across the stage. Her steps are slow, measured and unhurried, circling around and around in a manner that would keep an unwary opponent off-balance in a duel. The other creatures take note of how the Princesses fail to counter his earlier assertion, whispers trading about what this might mean. “It’s time you learned a lesson and faced the truth about the danger posed by your... choice. And to understand how, from where we stand, you waste…”

She trails off, shaking her head. “But no matter. You heard from Prince Rutherford about existential threats and how we all must oppose them, no matter the source.” Tempest Shadow nods at the Yak prince, who returns a slight tilt of his head. She turns back to the ponies, fixing them with her harsh glare. “Do you deny that you hold this power?”

“No,” Luna answers when Celestia remains silent.

Tempest Shadow snorts. Her voice is demeaning, as if resenting having to explain. “Three conditions must be satisfied for an existential threat. Like a chain, if any are broken, the threat is gone. Thus, we must break one of these conditions in order to keep us safe. The first is the trigger. No dam, no mother among us would deny that the loss of a foal would be a sufficient trigger.”

She pauses, a brief hint of sympathy coming to her voice. “Such tragedies have occurred in the past.” She glances at Doug with a bit of a sneer. “And unlike your earlier assertion, we have no wish to be the cause of such tragedy.”

Doug stares back, stone-faced.

Tempest Shadow begins her pacing anew when it becomes apparent Doug will not reply. “But something could still happen later on, and an alternate version working out is no guarantee this one will.” She focuses on Twilight. “Correct?”

Twilight huffs at one of her flimsier arguments, the fact that it worked out between Doug, Celestia, and Cadance in an alternate timeline, being called into question. Tempest must have read the report she wrote about the entire incident. Which makes sense, since she submitted it to the Council. She begrudgingly replies, “Correct.”

“Other triggers will happen over the course of your lives. Removing this one will not help the others, nor can we be assured that they will be… insufficiently dreadful.” Tempest Shadow’s face hardens as she recounts the story. “When I was a young, naive filly, I had my friends, as we all do. But when I lost my horn…”

Her scowl intensifies, regarding Celestia with a vehement hatred.

“...I lost my friends.” She takes a deep breath. “They moved on. And unless you become like me, and abandon your childish wishes that everything will always work out?”

“We will not,” Celestia replies quietly. “There is always hope, even for you.”

“Then you remain blind in your fantasy land,” Tempest spits out. “Caught off guard when your shields fall and you find the many ways that life’s not fair or just. Perhaps your filly will stubbornly choose the wrong path despite your guidance. Makes a decision you vehemently disagree with. Would that be enough?”

Rarity gnaws at a hoof - Pinkie Pie’s, of course, her own would be absurd - thinking back to when she met Doug. How her parents had been wholeheartedly against the idea and even went so far as to leave her life rather than poison the well. Yet, even if they didn’t see eye to eye then… She cannot believe she put it off reconciling for so long, and wonders why her parents never contacted her. Perhaps they thought that their… interference? would be unwelcome, and they were waiting for her to contact them? She resolves to rectify this as soon as they get back to Canterlot! Or maybe once she can get Sweetie Belle to tag along.

“But that depends on the second condition,” Tempest Shadow continues. “The tragedy must be sufficient to overcome your self control.” She motions at the three alicorns around Doug. “Your abilities might be unparalleled. After all, how much control does it take to harness the power of the sun?” She nods at Celestia respectfully, then sighs. “But they are not perfect. Each of you has lost control.” She looks at Celestia. “We heard the story of Rising Heights.”

Celestia nods, mournfully.

Then at Luna. “Nightmare Moon. Need I say more?”

Luna solemnly shakes her head no.

Tempest Shadow looks at Twilight Sparkle. “You murdered Doug after he destroyed your library.”

“I got better,” Doug cheekily adds.

Twilight snorts, whacking Doug with her tail. “Technically in that alternate timeline I meant to kill him, I didn’t lose control, and it was a justified attempted killing to save the world instead of murder over some books, and-”

Doug roughly pokes her in the side.

Twilight flashes a broad smile at Tempest Shadow, hunkering down. “I’m just making this worse, aren’t I?”

Tempest Shadow turns to Cadance. “Are you so conceited to think you will never lose control?”

“I concede the possibility,” Cadance replies. After a moment she adds, “That I am that conceited.”

Tempest Shadow snorts, laughing at the brazen answer. “So perhaps one of you can be trusted. Then again, perhaps not.” She raises a hoof into the air. “Who here wishes to bet on the infallibility of the alicorn. Anyone?”

Shining Armor immediately raises his hoof, earning himself a chaste kiss from his wife.

Tempest Shadow rolls her eyes. “Anycreature not obligated purely due to their marital status?”

Shining Armor slowly lowers his hoof as Doug raises his hand.

This does not go unnoticed by Cadance. “Hey!” she shouts, offended. “You put your hoof down!”

“She said to raise it only if I wasn’t obligated purely by my…” Shining Armor falters at Cadance’s infuriated glare. His ears fold back as he hunkers down. “Um… I’m just making this worse, aren’t I?”

He tries to raise his hoof again, but it utterly fails to mollify his wife’s wrath.

“If that’s what you think?” Cadance sticks her nose in the air, trotting over to Doug. “Then I’ll just have to go to somepony who believes in me!”

“Um,” Doug stammers. He glances at his still-raised hand, of which many of the ponies next to him have copied. He looks back at Cadance; she’s walking backwards at him, everypony shifting to allow her space next to Twilight. He does his best to not look down. “This really sounds like something I shouldn’t get involved in.”

“Too late!” Cadance plops down on his leg. She hugs it close. “I’m pulling a Chrysalis.”

“Hey!” Chrysalis objects, though she’s not really sure as to what. She jumps ship all the time. She’s frankly confused as to why ponies don’t do it more often, but they have weird notions about fidelity.

“Hey!” Shining Armor shouts, stomping over. He’d glare at Doug and his raised hand, except the human looks mortified. Except that’s his wife’s rump in his face! He glares at Doug anyway, growling through bared teeth.

“Hey, Twily!” Cadance greets as she brushes against the lavender flank. Her eyes spring open as both grin. “Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!”

“Dammit,” Doug groans as the two alicorn’s foalhood dance leaves their raised rumps pressing against each other. The joy they share doing so makes it even harder to not get excited. That or the raised tails. He hopefully looks at Tempest Shadow for some sort of lifeline.

Only for the unicorn to dash any hopes by smirking back at him. “Looks like Doug is the only one with some self control there.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Doug replies quickly. He glances down as Cadance moans euphorically; his hand is pressing against her flank. “Gah!” He gulps as he pushes against her, saying as flat and emotionless as he can, “Cadance, your rump is amazing. Can you please remove it from my face?”

“Certainly.” Cadance grins as she gets up, does a quick one eighty, and plops back down on his leg. She would bend her head lower, implying some salacious intentions, except Celestia is still in his lap. “Better?”

“No.” Doug sighs loudly as Shining Armor shoots past fuming and straight to frothing at the mouth. “Please stop torturing your husband.”

“Aww, but you believe in me!” Cadance groans at Doug’s uncompromising stare. “He deserves it?” She huffs when Doug doesn’t move. “Well, he still hasn’t raised his hoof!”

“Wait, that’s all it would take?” Shining Armor says, his anger fading as he studies Doug’s still raised hand. He tentatively raises his hoof in the air. “I tried that before!”

“My hero!” Cadance calls melodramatically, launching herself at her husband. “Yes, but you didn’t really mean it. Now you do.” She embraces him, yet winks at Doug and blows him a kiss. “Thanks for playing along.”

“...You’re welcome?” he returns, puzzled. He’s grateful when Tempest Shadow clears her throat, drawing attention away from himself.

“Anycreature might suffer tragedy,” the unicorn evenly states as she continues her pacing; her calm facade breaks every now and then, revealing a malevolent smirk. “But we must agree that the Princesses are more likely than most to suffer one now. And, as have just seen, their control can be… lacking.”

Celestia again rubs against Doug, her past failures haunting her, as Luna growls quietly.

“The third condition,” Tempest Shadow continues, “is enough power. We know Princess Celestia has sufficient power, as does her Sister, through their ability to move the sun and moon through the heavens. And it is only a matter of time before Princess Twilight Sparkle and Princess Cadance can manage similar feats unaided. Yes?”

“Yes,” Princess Twilight concedes, dreading where this is going. She drops a little lower, clinging to the legs around her. She loves how they tighten, pressing against her sides, even if the protective cocoon they make isn’t particularly all-encompassing.

“We also know that their power can be transferred, safely and without damage to the foal, to another. After all, they gave their power to Twilight.” Tempest Shadow’s contemptuous grin is plain now as she gloats. It’s enough to make Twilight almost regret sharing the knowledge about what the alicorns went through during the Tirek Incident. “But the only ponies that they have given their power to are other alicorns. Who, alas, are all with foal. This might reduce, but not eliminate, the chance of catastrophic failure. Fortunately, there is a solution.”

Tempest Shadow rears up, dramatically pointing a hoof at the Storm King.

Who is sitting there, a distracted look on his face, as he idly scratches his back with a piece of wood.

“My liege,” Tempest Shadow spits out at almost a shout. She growls at having to work with such incompetent imbeciles!

It takes him a second, but the Storm King eventually gets the point “Right!” he shouts. He vaults over the rows of seats and lands next to his second-in-command. “We use this!” He proudly holds the Staff of Sacanas in the air before frowning and peering closely at the stick. He bends it curiously. “What does this do, exactly?”

“The Staff of Sacanas,” Tempest Shadow explains through gritted teeth, “will channel the power of the four alicorns and allow the wielder to control the very sun and moon! This will keep our planet alive, at least until the… present danger has passed.”

“Right!” Raikou grins for a moment. “Um, how, exactly, do I do that?” He waves it around, spinning it like a baton, but nothing seems to happen. “Do I hit them with it? Right now?”

Tempest smirks at the alicorns. “Unless you have a better suggestion?”

“A better suggestion?” Twilight Sparkle laughs as she stands, a harsh cackle incommensurate with the audacity of the Storm Commander. She shakes off any reluctance at leaving Doug and her fellow alicorns’ sides, striding forward to the stage. “I doubt I could come up with a worse one! Where do I even begin?”

If the alicorn’s words meant to cause a stir among the assembled creatures they fulfill their purpose with aplomb. Tempest Shadow contains her fury with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes as Alira belatedly signals that it is the Equestrian’s turn to speak. The Storm King isn’t fazed in the slightest, leaning on the Staff of Sacanas without a care; he reacts more as the sharp crystal tip spears into his underarm, wincing and glaring at the inanimate object with a vengeful look that suggests he would boot it overboard were he on his ship.

“First.” A lavender hoof jabs at the powerful artifact. “Do you even know what that thing does? Or how to use it?” Her eyes glow white with a practiced raspberry flare, studying the inner workings.

A pale-blue unicorn mare from the Realm of Clouds steps up. “We conducted tests when the Staff was brought to us. The activation is-”

“-Slamming it into the ground,” Tempest Shadow finishes with a voice like ice. She dares not glance at the buffoon holding onto the lynchpin of their plan. She dares not anger him with her loathing. They had gone over this! And the last thing she wants is more disunity over an already tenuous plan. “There is no activation phrase. It will siphon the strength of any and all alicorns within ten strides, allowing the wielder the ability to control the sun and moon.” She sneers, gloating over putting the alicorn in her place.

“Mm, that’s not what I’m seeing.” Twilight frowns at having to counter the glowering unicorn’s assertions. “The range is at least a hundred strides, if not a thousand. And…” She squints, peering closer into the spell. “It’s nonlethal. It has some genius methods in place to keep from draining too much. And then release the power later. Like whoever made it was worried about it being used on them. So…” Her face falls at the admission. “It’s probably safe.”

“Satisfied?” Tempest Shadow drawls.

Twilight Sparkle scowls, wanting to buck this whole Council off an airship. She studied up on the legality of them taking out King Sombra and defending their actions with Discord, not hypotheticals with no solution! She stalls, demanding, “Who even built this thing?”

Celestia clears her throat. She would rather not answer this question, but her observant student would notice the familiar spellcraft soon enough. At least it draws her out of her despondency over how irreconcilably dangerous her actions could have been, and still might. “...That would be me.”

Twilight Sparkle spins fast enough to whip her tail into her side. “You!? Why, why would you even think to make something like this? You had to know it could be used against you!”

Celestia sighs, morose and subdued. “Because this is not the first time this discussion has arisen. It was asked of me if an artifact could be made that duplicated our,” she nods at her Sister, ”power over the sun and moon. I undertook the challenge, and that is the result. I declined to make one that could be powered by anycreature less. Yet, for all my craftsponyship, it is inefficient. Or, perhaps, our cutie marks allow us to be more efficient. As well, the Staff requires four alicorns to be present; fewer, and nothing will happen at all.”

“But there are nine alicorns present,” Doug interjects. His eyes, and those of many others, dart from one lithe belly to another. They aren’t bulging, not yet, and he dreads whatever might keep that from happening. “What happens then?”

“Um,” Twilight says, gulping as she surveys the workings of the Staff. “Technically, because of how Doug interacts with our magic, conceiving copies of our thaumic cores? It might think there are only four.”

“Five,” Cadance corrects with a worried glance at her husband. He returns a quick, reassuring nuzzle. “Our signatures no longer line up perfectly. We think it has to do with Shining Armor’s magic returning and being integrated into her core.” She tries to smile and quell the betrayed look Twilight is giving her. “We just noticed a few days ago, and wanted to make sure before we told anypony.”

“...Right.” Twilight wipes a bead of sweat from her brow. “We did know Tirek’s spell might do that. We’ll need to monitor the progression and make sure that she develops safely.” She levitates a quill and parchment. “I’ll write up a schedule for a battery of tests. Weekly? No, biweekly, at least until we get a good feel for how she’s progressing. Or should it be triweekly?”

“Twily,” Shining Armor asserts with a calm chuckle. “We’ve set that up already.”

“We are grown ponies,” Cadance adds with a wry smile.

“...Right.” Twilight slowly rests the quill on the blank parchment. She sighs at not being able to make a checklist. And at having to come back to this discussion. “So, if the staff drains seven to nine alicorns instead of four? It might explode.”

Raikou, who has been toying with the idea of just slamming the Staff into the ground and avoiding all this talk, carefully lifts and holds the Staff horizontal.

“Unlikely,” Celestia counters. She doesn’t like her work being called into question, especially with regards to something that might rob her of her power and then not be able to give it back. It isn’t enough to lift her dour mood. “Though the matter of the foal being targeted is a disconcerting one, as is the possibility of the drained dam being unable to fully provide for her growing foal.”

“Indeed,” Luna growls, finally breaking her silence. She scowls, both at her Sister and at the gathered creatures who wait with flexing talons for any misstep. Her Sister seems to get the message. Rather than say more the cobalt alicorn goes back to her gloom, not reacting when her stallion tugs her against him.

“So we don’t know if it is safe.” Twilight nods, confident in her assertion. “I worry about testing it, too.”

“You want to know what worry is?” Gruff declares, raspy voice booming. “Worry is when you look up at the sky and see the sun going up and down like a chick about to become a hen! Worry is when somegriff asks if the world is going to end, and you can’t tell them that it ain’t! You ponies tell us to not worry about things we can’t change. Well, this is us changing things!”

Delegate Gruff roars as he takes to the air, a taloned fist raising high. Except his no-longer-present compatriots are not there to provide cheers of their own, the echoes dying to an otherwise silent auditorium. He growls at the others who only offer tepid support, unwilling to provide direct and potentially isolated assistance. He plops back down, fuming.

“Princess Celestia has smoothly run things for over a thousand years,” Twilight states, gaze focusing on one creature and then another. “Who would you propose to take over?” She pauses as if a name might be thrown out. There isn’t. “Who has as good a track record? You want to change things, but you don’t even know if you are changing the right things in the right direction!”

“But Celestia failed,” Gruff sputters. “She might fail again!”

“And you want to eliminate the backups in case she does! And as your excuse?” Twilight shakes her head slowly, just like when she had to explain to Spike that he couldn’t have a bowl of ice cream just before bedtime. “You speak of a single incident that was directly caused by Discord. We stopped him, and righted things as swiftly as we could.”

“Who you then let go as swiftly as you could,” Ember echoes. Her arms cross against her teal chest, claws clicking against her scales. “And he proceeded to doom the entire planet! The only reason it didn’t work is because he got caught in his own trap.”

“Would you prefer we not offer any second chances?” Twilight glances at Luna as Doug holds her tight. She even returns a rare affectionate nuzzle. Twilight turns back to Ember. “That would be the dragon way, right?” She scowls at even making the suggestion. “Or would that be burn first, devour later, and not even offer a first chance?”

“Why, you!” Ember bellows, wings snapping open and claws outstretched. Only being outnumbered ten to one keeps her from suicidally charging. “If my father were here, he’d-”

“Burn this place to the ground?” Twilight snarks.

“Burn this place to the ground!” Ember shouts, fury venting from every orifice with clouds of steam. It makes the room, if not for Celestia’s filtering bubble, reek of sulphur.

“So much for no rash declarations of war,” Doug mutters. Luna snorts in amusement before returning to her normal stony visage.

“Declarations?” Ember laughs, high and shrill. “I see it now! You have already declared war, and we are too blind as to see it! With your talk of democracy, of letting the ‘majority’ rule. When you fully intend on flooding our countries with your ponies and broodlings! Why march with an army when you can force us out of our homes one plot of land at a time?”

Twilight’s pupils shrink to pinpricks. “T-that’s not…”

She glances around at her Friends, her herdmates, her family. Her or her brother’s broodling, however Chrysalis ends up… relating to her. All with the expressly stated desire to expand their family. Her heart hammers in her chest, her hitched breathing trying and failing to restart in time with the pounding in her ears. Would it stop after a generation? What even was a generation to an alicorn? Or even to Applejack, who might keep pumping out foals alongside her fillies and grandfillies? What would she do? Or Celestia?

“See?” Ember sneers as she motions to the Equestrians. “This is the existential threat we need to be worried about!”

Alira bangs her gavel on the lectern. Her calm, firm demeanor is lost in the commodition of everycreature standing. “We’ve gotten off track.”

Ember ignores her, raising her voice. “If Yak worried about losing Yak culture, look no further than your neighbors to the south! How long will it take for them to encroach on ancestral Yak land?”

“W-we wouldn’t-” Twilight starts.

“Appleloosa did it to the buffalo!” Iron Grip bellows, slapping a fist against the other. The two goats next to him nod, looking pleased one pulls back a sheet of paper. “Minotaurs will not be treated like cattle!”

Prince Rutherford takes a full second to stand, his full height towering above even Celestia. “Yak not allow incursion into Yak land! Yak go to war with ponies! Yaaah!”

“Oh, dear,” Applejack mutters, clenching her Stetson against her head as Prince Rutherford begins smashing his already smashed desk. “Ah remember cousin Braeburn tellin’ me ‘bout some problems they were havin’. But Ah’d been so busy with the farm...”

“Order!” Alira shouts, to no avail.

“Ponies think they are the best!” Ember roars, releasing a gout of flame toward the ceiling, though it comes dangerously close to the Equestrian side. “They are a cancer that wants to replace all cultures with their culture!”

“That’s because we are the best!” Rainbow Dash shouts back, flapping her wings to send the cloud of smoke back at the dragons. “About time somepony realized that!”

Enraged at the brash assertion, Ember takes to the air. She menaces Rainbow Dash with unsheathed claws, daring the smaller pegasus to come at her. They circle, snarling, edging closer and closer to charging.

“I do believe,” Celestia says with a forlorn sigh, “that it is time we followed the most time-honored of pony traditions.”

Twilight retreats from the stage while doing her best to keep Rainbow Dash from engaging. She spares a questioning glance at Celestia.

Cadance returns with a smirk and wink at her aunt. She takes a deep breath. “Very well.”

“Ahem.”

The regal voice clearing draws everything to a standstill. Prince Rutherford stops smashing, Ember and Rainbow Dash land, and Alira stops banging her gavel. All eyes turn to Princess Cadance.

“The Council of Creatures was instituted to keep us from devolving into violence.” The pink alicorn smiles, nodding exactly once. “I propose a recess so that we might collect our thoughts and better formulate our arguments. This has been quite a… trying subject for many of us. We can reconvene at dinner so that we might again share a meal in peace.”

“Seconded,” Raikou says. He looks bored, given that he didn’t hit anycreature during the chaos.

Alira looks over the remaining creatures. “Any opposed?”

“We demand some assurance,” Gruff bellows, “that you will not run away! That you do not intend to warn your comrades! Because if you do not return as stated, if you flaunt the decision of the Council? This means war.”

Celestia stands, deep sorrow etched into her features. “You have my word,” she states, a leg sweeping to indicate all of her fellow Equestrians. “That none of us will attempt to contact any not present in Klugetown, and will all return at the stated time.”

Gruff sits back, satisfied though not content, and brusquely waves a wing. No other creatures object. Alira dismisses the Equestrians.

To say they are overjoyed would be to miss the low-hung heads, the scuffling hooves, the apologetic looks they give everycreature they pass. No words are exchanges, just soft and resigned glances before they immediately look away. Fluttershy can barely see past her hooves for how her mane is in the way, stumbling into those around her and thankful for the wall of bodies blocking her sight.

“Take your break,” Tempest Shadow whispers to herself as the last Equestrian leaves. “It changes nothing.”

“We are in agreement?” Gruff asks once the Equestrians are gone, more of a demand as he scans the other creatures still present. He frowns as the Storm King slips outside without saying anything, turning to Tempest Shadow. “If they refuse, it will take all of us working together. Or we will be defeated in detail, the stragglers picked off at their leisure. What says the Storm Realm?”

“If they refuse?” A sly smile crosses Tempest Shadow’s muzzle. “Then the Storm Armada will sail for Canterlot. A tempestuous… distraction.”

“Saddle Arabia does not like it,” Alira states, tugging at the ceremonial garment she wears. She glances at Haakim; her stallion shares a similar distaste, but nods. “But if the Equestrians refuse, I see no alternative. We must force their hoof, or our entire foundation will crumble. We will ride on Appleloosa and Dodge City with all haste.”

“Manehattan is ours,” Gruff says with a sneer, glancing at Ember. “You can take both Fillydelphia and Baltimare?”

“Hah!” Ember snorts. “What the Dragon Lord commands comes to pass. And I will make sure he commands it. We shall dine on pony flesh!”

“The minotaurs will take the Hollow Shades,” Iron Grip booms. He grits his teeth at the dragon’s assertion, his discomfort shared by all but the griffons. He stammers, having to convince himself of the words. “We… we must all work together to overwhelm the alicorn’s defenses. But only if they do not submit.”

“The Realm of Clouds stands ready if that is the case,” the pale blue unicorn states. She shakes at the thought of losing ponies to keep the sun in motion. But if it must be done? “We can only hope they see reason.”

“Of course,” Tempest Shadow cackles, itching to get power restored to her horn.

Luna bashes open the door to the Celestial Suite, splintering the gold-inlaid wood. She scowls at the modest decorations scattered around the spacious room, the subdued light streaming through silk curtains, even the complimentary chocolate sitting on the Princess-sized bed. She takes wing just to slam down on the downy mattress, scattering solar-adorned pillows and sending the chocolate into the ceiling.

“Jeez,” Rainbow Dash remarks as she and the rest of the Elements of Harmony enter the fully furnished room. “Tell us what you really think.”

The mares scatter like pillows upon seeing the reserved opulence; Applejack checks the well-stocked fridge, already grumbling about needing a bite to eat. Rarity strides to the curtains, oohing and aahing about the choice of fabrics and taking a peek at the bustling streets outside. Rainbow Dash waits at the entrance for her stallion, peeking out the door to make sure he and the plodding Celestia are still on their way. Fluttershy selects the corner opposite the bed next to an alicorn-sized bathtub, and for good reason: Pinkie Pie decides that Luna can’t have all the fun and leaps after her, her newest goal to lick the chocolate off the ceiling, and she’ll need the alicorn to serve as a counterweight on her trampoline.

“Actually, please do,” Twilight Sparkle pleads, echoing Rainbow Dash’s rhetorical command from inside a vortex of swirling pages. She sets them on the closest table to the bed, neatly sorted and equally spaced from every edge, then stands rather than join her herdmate on the quaking bed. Spike hops onto the table, scattering a few of the notes to her annoyance. “You were almost silent before; what are you thinking about?”

One growl suffices to still the chocolate-muzzled earth pony. Twilight takes the opportunity to climb onto the bed and sit withers-to-withers with the cobalt alicorn. Luna waits with unsubsiding fury as Cadance, Shining Armor, and Chrysalis enter, the spacious room now starting to feel a mite crowded. The two ponies join Applejack in munching on greens and avoiding the cakes so heavy they might properly be called bricks. Chrysalis picks the most open area to claim as her own, as well as any pillows that may or may not be in range.

Doug sticks to Celestia’s ponderous pace, forcing himself to keep from dragging the still-sullen mare. Not that he stands a chance of moving her if she doesn’t want to; he can stagger around with Applejack on his back and the alicorn outmasses the earth pony by three times. Twilight is rapidly reaching the point where only her flight magic will allow him to lift her. Not that he’s complaining, precisely due to the reason for their… well, fattening just sounds insulting, even if it is what’s occurring to two of the three mares, if only in one area. Enlarging, that’s much better.

As the white alicorn breaches the room, so too does Luna’s fury.

“Sister,” the cobalt alicorn demands, Twilight edging away lest she be caught in the icy chill. “How can thou possibly consider giving up your magic? Our magic! For naught but empty promises!”

“But, Sister,” Celestia pleads, her whole body shaking as she finally lowers her barriers. She sinks to the floor, horn and muzzle touching the carpet as she stares down. “What if they are right?” She looks up, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “What if all our work is for nothing?”

Doug slowly draws his breath, itching to intercede on Celestia’s behalf. But if there’s one thing he’s managed to pick up in his years of herding? Much as he might want to, getting in between the mares would draw both of their ire and abate none of their anger. They would work it out with each other. Hopefully. Still, he has to do what he can.

“Look,” Doug states, bending a smile from one mare to the other. Luna bites back her retort, turning to glare at him just like he suspected. Celestia returns to resting her head against the floor, and he has the sinking suspicion that she might stay that way the entire time. He remains upbeat, almost cajoling. “It’s been a trying time. I’m sure we’ll all feel better after we rinse this sand out of our coats. Yes?”

Luna stares at him for a long while, long enough to make him nervous. She sits back just a trifle with a grumble and huff, unwilling to relax any more until their situation is resolved.

So, with a parting stroke to the white ear, Doug steps toward Fluttershy and the giant tub. It’s not quite as large as the Ponyville Day Spa’s public bath, but still big enough for two alicorns to fully submerge if they don’t mind squeezing together. Hot water soon flows from four taps, steam and floral scents wafting into the air. Fluttershy helps him strip out of his armor with only a few reserved, soothing touches and none of her ‘innocent’ comments. None so much as bat an eye except when she squirrels away the damp undergarments with a cheeky grin. Doug tests the temperature, pulling away from the scalding water with a grimace and curtailed exclamation, immediately adjusting the taps to something less attuned to the solar alicorn and more suited for the average, especially pregnant, mare.

“Finally,” Doug moans as he steps into the still-hot water, swirling it around in the vain hope it might cool off quicker. “You know, it was nice wearing something when we were walking around the city, but after two days in that armor?” He shakes his head at the absurdity. “I missed going around like this. Way comfier. Or maybe the weather in Ponyville is that much better.” He winks at Rainbow Dash, the pegasus preening over the compliment.

“Oh, dear.” Fluttershy presses her hooves to her muzzle in mock horror. “I’m afraid I got sand all over my nice coat.” She flies into the tub after Doug, splashing around in the hock-deep water. “And with the wind, it got everywhere.” She grins as she presents her backside to him, her tail flagging. She moans in a manner most alluring. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Don’t worry,” Doug says, matching her grin as he drops to his knees in the rapidly rising water. “I’m here to help!” His hands cup minute portions, splashing onto her rump and working their way down her legs. He frowns. “You weren’t kidding.” She really does have a lot of grit caked into her coat.

Fluttershy’s grin widens a little as she sinks lower, luxuriating in the steamy, but not too hot, water. She loves the feeling of her stallion’s hands as they swarm over her body, digging into her coat, massaging the tense muscles underneath. It might not be as efficient at picking out the minute grains as a brush, but she cherishes the contact even more.

She can feel another part of her body heating up; her stallion must be feeling the same way, judging by the unmistakable pokes and prods against her belly as he stretches across her body to rub at her neck and forelegs. She wishes he went further, her gentle gyrations dipping the tip of her tail into the water and then flinging droplets onto his chest. Yet she can’t bring herself to sheath him inside her; even if he got her off quickly, and she knows he can, she much prefers long sessions and cuddling afterward, and they don’t have time for that. Especially if he has to attend to the rest of the mares. She hunkers down as one of those other mares takes wing.

“Do me next!” Rainbow Dash shouts as she dives into the tub, splashing water everywhere. She holds her wings out, grimacing at the coarse grit between her feathers. “Sand got everywhere on me, too!”

“That’s ‘cause y’er flyin’ everywhere,” Applejack retorts with a heavy snort. “Nocreature else was, an’ that’s why! Ya blew sand on all’a us! Serves ya right gettin’ some on yerself!”

“Come on, I bet you barely even noticed it!” Rainbow Dash sticks her head in the air, as aloof as any noblepony. She barely even flinches as Doug dumps water onto her neck and mane, shuddering in pleasure as he works his way down the tired muscles. She was not used to carrying weight around, especially something about her own size, and she knows she’ll feel it tomorrow. “You get covered in dirt and mud all the time!”

Doug chuckles at the banter between the mares. That’s one of the sure-fire ways to tell everything is good between them, especially Applejack and Rainbow Dash, that they can trade playful barbs. Even Fluttershy doesn’t mind, most days gamely trying a few of her own, but they are always gentle and good-natured and the others reply in kind. Yet he grimaces, even as he absolutely loves rubbing down the athlete’s coat and avoids the mare’s questing efforts to turn this into a different sort of ablution.

“Luna,” Doug states, even as Applejack and Rarity look ready to make their way into the tub next. He motions to the opening Fluttershy leaves behind as she drags herself out of the tub into a towel held in Rarity’s light blue aura. “Care to join?”

Luna holds her gaze without moving. It clearly rankles her, to be coaxed into such an undignified position. That her stallion would caress and comfort her while he cleans her coat. She is perfectly capable of performing such an action herself! She neither needs nor desires his help, and she loathes being put into a position where denying his help makes her look petty and unappreciative while accepting it makes her weak and pampered.

Yet it is expected of her to accede to her stallion’s desires. At least the only others present are herdmates and fellow royalty who can be trusted to keep their confidences. She takes her time rising from the bed, her baleful look displaying her disinterest. She sheds her cobalt peytral and ornate hoofguards as she walks, allowing the heavy metal to clatter to the floor with satisfying thuds. Rarity winces but Luna ignores her, reaching the edge of the tub and frowning at the pegasus frolicking inside.

Rainbow Dash only gets the hint that she should depart when Doug roughly prods her in the flank. She doesn’t want to leave her stallion, especially because she isn’t done with him, and resolves to be the first to claim him once this is all said and done. Well, unless Celestia calls dibs, and the white alicorn looks like she’ll need a lot of reassurance that everything will work out.

“Satisfied?” the cobalt alicorn demands after she steps in. She grunts as he answers not with words but an affirming squeeze to her taut flanks. She hates to admit that he does an adequate job with his massages and this time is no different; her displeasure with her Sister rapidly depletes, replaced by carnal distractions and a fleeting desire to raise her tail like a common harlot.

“...Only if you are,” Doug replies after a long moment. He continues rubbing his hands along her body; much like Rainbow’s, she is quite tense, and he is assisting with that. But there is none of the surrendering of her body to him, none of the trust that she can allow herself to be vulnerable.

Luna takes one deep breath after another. She has to will it, forcibly convince herself, but her muscles eventually relax as she slips her body under the water. Her tail stills, as does her mane, the waves in the tub gradually subsiding. Her horn lights, shutting off the taps, her head turning the barest amount so she can better regard the human.

“We do not see the wisdom in yielding our power,” Luna starts, attempting to be as amicable as possible to an idea she finds abhorrent. “And we are doubtful thou can convince us otherwise.”

“Alright then,” Doug says with an agreeable nod of his head. He works his way along the powerful back and flight muscles, kneading into the tense tissue. “How do you see this playing out here, how will they react, and what do we do about that?”

“What acts of barbarism will they bring about?” Luna asks with a contemptuous scowl. She finds it difficult to maintain as Doug digs in deeper, growling as she tries to concentrate on her answer. “They will protest their dismay. The yaks shall stomp, the dragons breathe their fire, and the griffons keen and gnash their beaks. Yet it shall be for naught, as we shall not relinquish what is right for what is expedient, nor succumb to threats of terror.”

“Well spoken,” Doug says, his words nearly lost amid the jubilant stomps of the ponies. He rewards her statement with an affirming squeeze to her barrel, just behind her wings.

A smile teases at the corners of her muzzle, a muted signal that nevertheless speaks loudly of the joy she feels at the other’s, and especially her stallion’s, praise. She graciously allows him to continue his service, raising a wing so he might better reach the damp and matted fur underneath. He capitalizes on her capitulation, not that she sees it as such, assaulting both sides of her barrel with long and forceful strokes that end with firm squeezes to the secure hold of her womb.

“What would happen next?” Doug asks as he stretches across his mare, adding tickling swishes of his fingernails against her sides. “You think they would go quietly into the night?”

Luna struggles to avoid flinching, lest she succumb as her Sister often does to his ministrations. She finds that she cannot deny his potency, his hands honed on the haunches of her herdmates. Yet she decries the indisputable fact that she is merely one in a line of mares, and the lack of spontaneity that comes with treating so many, and would be cast aside - though tenderly and without malice - when it comes time for another. So she finds it easy to resist, to withhold the teasing motions and often lewd invitations the others twist into their reactions.

“What they do is of little concern to us,” Luna replies. Her words are not cold but aloof, and perhaps rightfully so. “Equestria has stood impregnable for centuries.”

“Don’t know about that,” Doug cuts in with a cheeky grin.

Luna grunts as he grips her teats, the flat mounds offering little in the way of resistance. She finds his fascination with them puzzling; the other mares reluctantly confess to a similar lack of pleasure from his stimulation, yet the action serves as a clear indicator of his intentions. He seems to enjoy them immensely for some strange reason; she wonders if he will begin rutting her then and there.

“Perhaps,” she concedes, suppressing her smirk. “Though if thy prowess proves the reason for our collapse?”

Luna turns, regarding Doug with a strong sniff from her slightly raised nose. It is obvious from his hesitation that he cannot tell if she is serious or not, and holds her gaze for several long seconds. She breathes a sigh of relief as his hands move on, winking at him and allowing her smirk to spread across her muzzle as she turns back, relishing his heavy but cheerful sigh as he again digs into her coat.

Celestia raises her head at the jovial exchange, a smile blossoming from barren ground. She stands, meeting her Sister’s eyes as she steps to the edge of the tub. A quick flick of the ear later and she carefully climbs into the tub, squeezing withers against withers and muting her flowing tail. She nuzzles, hard and needful, then contritely dips her muzzle into the water. Yet rather than rest above her Luna dips alongside her, pushing the flat of her long face against her Sister’s.

An anxious series of knocks on the door draws hesitant looks from the ponies getting ready to nap. Applejack, the closest, gets up and answers.

“Howdy,” she greets the distraught pale blue hippogriff. She raises an eyebrow as he rakes his talons against each other, his worry quite apparent. “Come on in. What can we do ya for?”

“I come bearing terrible news,” Sky Beak says, quickly looking over the scattered ponies as he steps inside. He waits until the door shuts behind him before continuing. “The others have portioned off sections of Equestria like some great whale, sharks ready to rend flesh from bone should you refuse to resign your power.”

Breath catches in throats, ears fold back, and bellies press against the floor as Sky Beak explains the other creature’s plans. Luna’s eyes smolder with righteous fury while Celestia’s fade to a dull void, no trace of the Breaker of Day’s red rage. But the knowledge that even the other ponies of the realm would raise hooves against them? It sits easy with nopony, all trading whimpers and uneasy glances.

“We can’t thank ya enough for tellin’ us all this,” Applejack forces out when he is finished, pulling her hat off to try to fan some of the sweat away. “But, how’d ya get away from them to come tell us?”

“We hippogriffs have made a… habit of laying low,” Sky Beak imparts. His countenance darkens. “I hate it. We are creatures of the sun, made to bathe in its purifying light, not cower under the cover of darkness! Or the sea. We lose more of our past, our traditions with every passing day!”

“Ah hear ya.” Applejack gulps, glancing at Celestia and Luna. Luna’s resolve helps bolster her spirits, but compared to how Celestia is reacting? She can barely keep her voice from shaking. “But, um, we might have a bit more on our plate than we can chew, if what yer sayin’ is true.”

“Is that right?” Rarity asks Shining Armor, barely able to dare the question.

“It’s…” Guard Captain Shining Armor takes a deep breath. “If they came at us with everything? Even with advance warning…” He shakes his head, not needing to look at Celestia to know what it would mean for her to break her word. “No. Even then, we wouldn’t have enough time to prepare. Evacuate, maybe, but that would only buy us time for the Princesses to move from one location to another.”

“We’re that reliant on the alicorns?” Doug groans, gritting his teeth as he rests one hand on each mare’s back.

Shining Armor’s nod is long and grim. “Equestria’s defenses have always relied on early detection and rapid response. Against a single nation? We could deploy the Wonderbolts as scouts and harassers, field a combined army of earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi, and have an alicorn ready to engage directly should the need arise. But with our forces spread so thin, and compared to what the other nations can muster? I fear you would be overworked, perhaps direly, especially with your… restrictions on how much power you have available.”

Twilight’s raspberry glow pins a map of Equestria onto one of the walls. From Rarity’s bags she grabs a collection of pins, marking the various cities and towns. Spirits sink as the ponies realize they have nearly a dozen places large enough to be considered targets, to say nothing of the smaller settlements that dot the forests and plains.

Shining Armor’s voice has lost any sort of gloom, regarding the problem with cold calculation. “The races we are worried about attacking are also the harder ones to assault. That would be the Dragons and the Griffons. We will suffer heavy casualties, especially among civilians, no matter whom is present.”

Hairs bristle at the thought. Each of the sworn defenders of Equestria resolve to never let that happen, no matter the cost. Yet the problem looks insurmountable as Shining Armor continues.

“We can expect heavy infrastructural damage anywhere the Yaks and the Minotaurs show up, and to a lesser extent the Saddle Arabians.” He frowns at the problems that can’t be fixed by swinging a spear. “Enough to be an equanitarian crisis that would require coordinated effort by the remaining cities, effort we may not be able to spare. But the biggest issue is the Storm Armada. If he takes Canterlot, that’s our central hub gone. The rest of the country would be isolated from each other, with no intercontinental access except in the eastern seaboard. Reinforcements would be tricky at best, leaving each area to fend for itself."

“Does that mean we give up?” Rarity tentatively asks, shuddering at the thought of asking the alicorns to give up their power under such circumstances. Really, any circumstances are bad enough. But this?

Shining Armor considers the situation for a long time. “Equestria has relied on Celestia to act as a deterrent, the implied threat of leaving an attacking force nowhere to return home. As well as keeping them from clumping together were any sort of engagement to actually happen. But with varied forces like this? Even if they didn’t scatter at the first sign of golden light, there would be losses.”

“On both sides,” Celestia adds. The sorrow in her voice sends chills along spines, each pony flinching as they consider what would happen to the attacking creatures. “How many shall we condemn to the stars for our actions?”

“Sister,” Luna retorts, scowling. “They make their choices, just like we must make ours. It does not matter if there are or are not better solutions. This is the right thing to do. Nothing else is important!”

“For the sake of argument,” Doug says, a calming hand keeping Luna from immediately snapping at him. “What happens if you do give up your power? Assuming it is safe for you and the foals.”

The hand isn’t enough to keep Luna from rebutting. “We forestall this attack only to leave ourselves exposed to others.”

“The Wonderbolts aren’t that weak,” Rainbow Dash grunts out, crossing her forelegs across her chest and blowing a lock of her mane out of her face.

“And what if we keep the Staff of Sacanas?” Doug glances at Celestia and Twilight. “This staff can move the heavens. What else can it do?”

“Anything the wielder puts their mind to,” Celestia claims with an affirming nod from Twilight. “To an extent. For instance, the Storm King might conjure storms, lightning, and wind on par with a hurricane. Inefficient, yes, but with that much raw magical might? Surely you have seen the range of spells that Twilight knows, some practical while others are far more esoteric.”

“So whoever wields the staff could use it for Equestria’s defense. It wouldn’t be as strong as an alicorn, I assume, but something.” Doug’s mouth purses as he rubs at his chin.

“Assuming they let us keep it?” Twilight frowns. “That seems unlikely. The whole point of this is to deprive us of our power.”

“Okay,” Doug admits. “Sure. And the same is true if one of the other nations gets it.”

“Indeed,” Luna states. She flicks her wing at Doug, but he doesn’t release his grip on her. “They desire a better country, but believe stealing other’s might will lead them there. The fighting among them for who gets the Staff would be… fierce. There is little hope of allowing us to keep the staff, despite our faithful stewarding of such power for so long.”

“So, then, if we could choose.” Doug glances at Celestia, Luna unlikely to want to speculate in this direction. “Who would we give the Staff to?”

“The creatures whom I would trust with such power? Outside of those in this room?” Celestia ponders the question for several long moments. “Queen Novo comes to mind… but I could certainly see her wielding our power as a cudgel against the Storm Realm who banished her to the seas. Their ships are made to weather storms, even lightning, so she would be forced to go after civilians and infrastructure. It would embroil the southern seas in conflict. Any of the lesser nations I do not foresee being able to resist losing the Staff, either through brute force or from a thief in the night.”

“And on the eastern side of things?” Doug asks, mostly for completeness.

“The dragons and the griffons?” Celestia’s cheeks bulge as she tries to hold in her laughter. She looks around the room for something, anything, that might take her mind off such an audacious move. Yet her hysterics catch up to her, breaking forth in a torrent of high-pitched giggles, neighs, and hooves pounding against the water. A shield from Luna redirects any splashed water toward Doug, who weathers the storm with a stoic sigh.

“I… I cannot imagine a scenario that could turn out worse for us.” Celestia shakes her head grimly. “The very first thing they would do would be to rally their brethren and demand a feast whose ingredients would only get more exotic. And if veal is any indication, then alicorn-”

“Please,” Fluttershy begs from across the room. Clasping her hooves against her face and plugging her ears with her wings isn’t enough; she doesn’t want to have to use her Stare, not against the Princess, but in these dire circumstances? “Please. Just… stop?”

“If thou believes the partitioning of our foals to be vile,” Luna retorts, as cold and emotionless as the void of space. “Wait until we split the cities into those we defend and those we do not.”

“You’re doing a great job highlighting why you shouldn’t give up your power at all,” Doug states, his stomach clenched tight. He lost what little squeamishness he had when he helped Prince Blueblood butcher the rhoas, and has only inured himself further by preparing a lot of his own meat and helping Pharynx set up the abattoir. But contemplating the same with his mares? Just the thought makes him nauseous. “Or give any of these creatures a foot… hoofhold in Equestria.” He sinks back, sickened at his next thought. He shouldn’t voice it, but does anyway. “It’s enough to make me consider preemptively using the offensive part of our defensive strategy.”

“Then what?” Celestia demands, teetering on the edge of despondency. “Lock up civilians for the crime of being born the wrong race? Many of them have spent their entire lives in Equestria.” She points a hoof. “What of Spike? Should he be thrown in with the others on the chance that he might turn his scales?”

“Hah! Could you imagine?” Spike playfully growls, crouching down before leaping at Twilight! “Raargh!”

“Spike!” Twilight laughs as the small purple dragon pounces on her and gnaws at her hind leg. She tries to shake him off but he gamely holds on. “That tickles!”

“Om, nom, nom!” Spike says between delicate chews. “Hey, you know, some fire sauce and I could probably choke this down.”

“Hey, I taste better than that!” Twilight exclaims before realizing what she just said. She huffs. “And that’s not the point! Nopony is going to be eaten!”

“Exactly.” Doug’s hard voice carries through the room. He starts by focusing on the cobalt alicorn next to him. “Luna, you were right earlier.”

Luna’s ears prick at the admission, her smile creeping across her muzzle. She did not expect such a clear decision between what she and Celestia are arguing, though her elation subsides at seeing the downcast look of her Sister.

“But,” Doug says, withdrawing a slight amount of that praise, “we have to remember what the ‘right’ is that we are championing. And I would argue, and I think we would all agree, that that ‘right’ is the lives of ponies, and indeed everycreature, everywhere.” He looks around the room. “Any disagreement?”

Luna growls, but to herself. She would quibble about the inclusion of everycreature, and wonders if he did it merely for Sky Beak. Though her Sister would certainly argue in his favor, and she lets Doug’s statement go without contest. None of the other ponies disagree, either.

“So we have to ask. Does giving up your power, your liberty, your freedom buy you any security, however temporary? Does this help your little ponies?” Doug shakes his head. “I would argue it does not. It makes us no safer, even if we kept the staff. And even if I thought it would, we would deserve neither power nor safety if we gave up one for the other.”

“So ya don’t think we should lock up the griffons, just in case?” Applejack asks with a certain dread. She remembers the salesgriffons flying around their farm, how she counted the pigs each time to make sure any didn’t ‘wander’ off. How much worse would it be counting foals?

Doug takes a deep breath. “Correct. Because even if that makes us vulnerable, to do otherwise would be worse. Better to give each their chance, treat them as individuals, and suffer the consequences, however dire.”

“A very… optimistic view,” Luna states evenly. Pinkie Pie’s ears perk up, the mare beaming.

“Just like I have for you.” Doug leans forward, gripping Celestia’s chin and gently twisting her head to face him. She resists at first, choosing to stare at the water, before giving in and meeting his gaze. “All you’ve done has been working toward the betterment of Equestria and your ponies. And, when you could spare the effort, the betterment of all Equus. You’ve gained power in that pursuit. And I think you should never apologize for that.”

“No?” Celestia says, a ray of hope lighting the back of her eyes.

“No.” Doug grunts as Celestia rears up and twirls to meet him muzzle to face. “What these other creatures want? They don’t care about you or your ponies. They only care about themselves. You’ve proven through the centuries that you are a responsible caretaker of that power. You haven’t abused it through the countless ways imaginable. You have, day after countless day, raised the sun and lowered the moon, only to reverse it again that night. Without fail, waking up before the dawn you provide.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I could do it. Yet your ponies have stayed safe under your care, despite being beset by foes only too eager to take advantage of the wondrous conditions you provide. I know my praise doesn’t mean much, but you have it.”

Celestia crouches down just slightly, the bend in her legs giving away her intentions. That or the sway in her flanks, how her tail twitches upward ever so slightly, and how her eyes flutter, suddenly bright and full of life.

“But know,” Doug says, a finger lightly pressing on her lips keeping her from lunging forward. “Even if this doesn’t work out? I have every confidence that you will remember your little ponies. That you won’t give up hope like those despots think you will. And I will be there, ready to console you in our hour of grief. But that’s all it would be, because I wouldn’t be satisfied with failure, and you wouldn’t - and shouldn’t - be either.”

Celestia leans forward to nuzzle him, her soft smile begging to be more. Her tongue wets her lips, still glistening from the clear water.

“And if they think that one foal will upset the balance between the nations?” Doug swishes a finger from the nape of her neck down her barrel, as far as he can reach without taking his eyes off hers. He loves how they shine, a radiance he suspects was there all along. “I’d hate for them to know what plans I have for you. And I bet they can’t compare to your own.”

At that point Celestia’s restraint finally breaks, rushing forward to pin her stallion against the side of the tub.

“Well.” Applejack chuckles as Celestia’s multicolored mane again flows like the water crashing against the sides of the tub. She takes a step toward the closed door. “Ah don’t suppose we want to give them their privacy?”

“Are you foaling me?” Rainbow immediately retorts with a leering grin. “We’d miss the best part!” She lifts into the air to get a better view of the smothering taking place, barely noticing when Applejack shakes her head good-naturedly and sits back down. The growing desire to drop her hoof lower is quickly quashed; it’s way better when she gets her stallion to do that! She’s far more interested in what’s going on between him and the Princess under the water, anyway. But right now the alicorn is too low on his body for anything frisky to be going on, just muzzle stuff. Well, and hands stuff, but that pretty much always happens so it doesn’t count.

Fluttershy has the same idea. She covertly creeps up and peeks over the edge, like she’s checking in on a pair of snails out of their shells and about to, well, cover each other in mucus. She holds the position when Celestia glances over - apparently pink is not a stealthy choice - and she meets the Princess’s gaze, beaming pure joy at the love they are sharing.

Twilight Sparkle watches as steam rises from the tub with a growing pang in her gut, feeling a bit of apprehension as things between her stallion and former mentor get... heated. It’s not that she doesn’t like the thought of Celestia finding pleasure during an otherwise tense situation. She’s happy the alicorn found somepony to love! Somehuman, whatever. It’s more that she sees the solar diarch as a sort of second dam. In some ways they were even closer than she is to Velvet (putting aside the fact that she and Celestia are in a herd), and certainly closer than her dahms. Like her sire Night Light’s lead mare, DeGree; it was always cordial, at a leg’s distance. Not that it’s too awkward for her now - she did conceive her fillies alongside her fellow Princesses. Actually, now that she thinks about it, she’s been present in one capacity or another when all the alicorn foals got conceived, something not even Doug can attest to.

“I’m going out,” Twilight announces to an otherwise occupied room. She rolls her eyes at Cadance, who is entirely too focused on her aunt. She’ll need to tease the Princess of Sex about it at some point. At least her brother has the decency to stare out the window, though she notes how his ears are swiveled for maximum reception. “I’ll tell Lunaris to prep the Priestess for an expeditious departure. Just in case.”

“Make sure we have enough foal powder,” Rarity asks absentmindedly, her focus on her sketch of Doug and Celestia. She has taken the liberty of fast-forwarding to the point where Luna joins in. “It will help with the sand.”

“Yeah, sure,” Twilight says with a roll of her eyes. She opens the door with her magic. There are spells for that sort of thing, and if Doug didn’t want to get so personal with each of them then-

Twilight comes to an abrupt halt as her mind registers the thick white limbs, the twisted stick casually resting against the floor, and the blackened armor adorned with twin teal lightning bolts. A sense of foreboding fills her as her eyes travel up, and up, past the Storm insignia to the fang-filled smile of the Storm King himself.

“Hey!” the tall storm creature greets amiably, bending down and turning himself sideways to squeeze through the door. He brushes past Twilight before she can react. “You don’t mind if I come in, do you?”

“You-” Twilight starts before her brain cuts off the rest of ‘can’t come in here’, because he clearly could and just did.

“What can we do ya for?” Applejack demands, her question considerably more pointed than when she asked the same of Sky Beak. For the hippogriff’s part he scowls while he backs up, joining Shining Armor at the window. The rest of the ponies show a bit more courage, bunching in clusters but standing resolute. Chrysalis regards the Storm King with a lazy look, unwilling to stand from her fortress of pillows. Luna growls as she slinks out of the water, a soft blue glow from her horn leaving all the water behind. Celestia stops her motion but does not look up, her face squarely aimed at Doug, who peeks out from beneath her mane and foreleg.

Raikou seemingly ignores Applejack’s question, taking in the entirety of the room’s contents with a swift scan. “You’re all here, huh? Goody. All four pony Princesses.” His grin curls higher, exposing more of his fangs. “Well, I knew that before. It’s amazing what you can hear through these walls!” He holds a hand to his ear as he raps the knuckles holding the Staff of Sacanas against the wall. It barely makes a noise.

He waits for a beat, gets no reaction, then turns to Applejack with a cheeky grin. He crouches down so they are eye to eye. “Would you believe I’m here to talk?”

Applejack regards him with a long stare and an equally drawn out, “Do Ah have to answer that?”

Raikou laughs, a single clipped-short note. “I knew I liked you for a reason!” He ruffles Applejack’s hat as he stands, leaving the earth pony scowling as she adjusts her Stetson.

Long strides take him to the edge of the tub; the rest of the ponies return stony looks he walks past. Fluttershy hastily slips to the side as Celestia pulls herself away from Doug, the two reclining on the far side. A hoof brushes her mane out of her eyes, a single stroke all it takes to restore flowing perfection. Doug folds his arms with a hard frown, a sharp contrast to Celestia’s genial smile.

“This isn’t the liveliest party I’ve been invited to,” the Storm King says in a dull deadpan as his tall, lanky form slips next to the tub, swirling the frothy water with one hand. He studies the closed window, as if debating whether to open it and let the frou-frou scents air out. “It just needs a little shock to jolt some life into it!”

“Invited?” Princess Celestia disputes, tilting her head to the side as the corners of her smile twist upward. “If one listens to the Abyssinian King and Queen, you have a habit of inviting yourself into places you don’t belong.”

“This storm knows no bounds!” Teal eyes gleam, short fangs bared in a wide grin. “Isn’t it glorious? The southern realms, from the Stormy Realms to Mount Aris, united under teal and steel.”

Celestia raises an eyebrow. “And now you are setting your sights north?”

The Storm King laughs, setting the ponies on edge. “As expected! You know my intentions.” His open hand splays out and exposes his armored chest. Four obsidian orbs dangle from a bandoleer at his waist amid a number of closed pouches. “It’s not like I’ve concealed them. That lust for power! Have you tried using it?” His grin widens. “Really letting go. Just to see what you can do!”

“I dare not.” Celestia takes a deep breath, a hoof traveling to her chest before pushing away, exhaling with a calming, steady gust that sends the water rippling in rapid waves. “The end result the last time was the Badlands.”

“A shame,” the Storm King says with a curtailed shake of his head. He doesn’t appear remorseful at all. “Why, with that kind of power available to me?” He spins the staff, morphing into a dance that whirls faster and faster, a dizzying display of dexterity and mastery.

The ponies tense and crouch, preparing for some sort of action. Eyes narrow and muzzles scowl, but the spins and potential to get thwacked by the staff or worse keep any from approaching. The other alicorns glance back and forth, contemplating some sort of preemptive action, but they too hold fast.

“You seem to have taken a liking to the ‘Storm in a Box’.” Celestia offers an unflinching smile as he comes to an abrupt halt, the glowing crystal tip of the staff a hoofbreadth from her muzzle. She gingerly pushes it to the side, away from the wide-eyed Doug. The casual motion keeps Luna from charging in, but even a glance from Celestia does not get the cobalt alicorn to relax. Celestia adds with a note of sympathy, “But I understand the distinction between borrowing another’s expertise and accomplishing something with your own power.”

“Exactly!” Raikou examines the staff in his hand with a critical eye, and it leaves him wanting. “But conquest isn’t the only way to expand. It just happens to be the easiest way to get your hoof through the wall.” He sighs, the staff dropping to his side. “My admittedly brutal tactics cut short their suffering. None dare resist, especially knowing what happens to rebellions, from the leaders down to the soldiers. Decimate’s a fun word, ya know?”

“Is that a threat?” Luna demands, cold as ice, with bared teeth and glints of Nightmare Moon’s teal in her eyes.

Raikou takes the Staff of Sacanas, planting it in front of him, yet gently enough to not activate it. He stares at it for a long moment, still focusing on it as he speaks.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. You like that, right? One of your Tenets of Harmony.” He flashes a smile, and it curls a little higher at Celestia’s nod before he returns to a grim stare. “I’ve had my eye on Equestria for a while now. Preposterous, right?” He laughs, dark and brooding, the only one in the room to do so. “Only two ways I could possibly take and hold it. One, attack so many spots you couldn’t defend them all. You’d be too tied up to retaliate, and I’d hope you surrender to save your ponies before I run out of troops.” He focuses on Chrysalis with a respectful nod. “That was your plan.”

“One of many,” Chrysalis admits. In fact, the potential for her to implement that particular plan was the impetus for Celestia to negotiate with her at all. Celestia’s muzzle remains still, as if carved from stone, carefully concealing her reaction to his ruthless plan of action. Chrysalis tilts her head to the side slightly. “Are you claiming this is not your own plan?”

“Stop me if I’m wrong or if I go too far. But you have three other alicorns and a host of soldiers who can be as big and bad as any dragon.” Raikou forlornly shakes his head at the now unattainable possibility. “That frees you up to roast cities. Or armies. I’d put my best strategist on it, but I wouldn’t expect much.”

Celestia’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly at his assessment of their response. Spot on, but their defensive strategy is no secret, and he was likely listening in. No, what surprises her is his read on Chrysalis; she had not considered employing the changelings as defenders, and it is likely the Chief Architect wishes for their involvement to be a trump card hidden under a wing. A glance at Chrysalis confirms this, the changeling nodding back.

“Unacceptable.” Raikou shakes his head, frowning at the water but not really focusing on anything. His words are quieter, musing to himself. “Unless I had… Ugh, I’m not as good at this as my commander. Maybe? Yeah.” He nods to himself, smiling, but it’s subdued. “If I had everycreature else on my side, I could probably do it. Yeah, that’d be enough to overwhelm even the changelings on your side.”

The ponies trade nervous glances as Sky Beak blanches; the unasked question passes among them: does he not know the other creatures’ plan? Is he merely playing them for foals? They edge closer to preemptive action, but then what?

“Changelings do not go down that easily,” Chrysalis states. Her eyes narrow at his leering gaze. “On the battlefield, you torpid husk.”

Chrysalis is expecting many things - a return insult, a challenge, even a sneer, but not the way he points one finger on each hand at her and winks.

“But against five quite capable leaders? Each an army all by themselves?” Raikou shrugs nonchalantly. “It makes the second plan harder, too, but not by much. Get all of you together, distract you somehow and launch a decapitating strike. Not literally, of course; I still need to move the sun and moon somehow!”

His grin does little to soften his proposed actions, and Celestia cannot hide her glance at the Staff of Sacanas.

The Storm King notices. “Oh, this?” He raises the staff slightly, grinning like a pony holding pocket princesses.

Celestia merely meets his gaze. She isn’t sure if she could react in time to him slamming it down. But he has had many opportunities to do so. She tenses, the shudder sending ripples through the water. Doug wraps an arm around her, doing his best to comfort her, but it gives her little solace.

“I drew up plans long before I had this little beauty. But honestly?” He weighs the Staff in his hand, bobbing it up and down. “Even if I had the power to create a storm to suit my name, and could shift the heavens?” He sighs. “I’d get bored with it after a day. Never able to sleep past the sunrise, beholden to the clock! And there’s nocreature I’d entrust with that kind of power.”

“It is a heavy burden,” Celestia commiserates.

“I’d have to be worried about somecreature stealing it. Or taking it by force. Or, if you’re holding it, just letting the power out whenever you feel like it.” Raikou’s lips pull back in an unvarnished grimace. “Nah. I think I’d prefer the real thing.” He gestures at Celestia, nodding with a smirking leer.

“Me?” Celestia says, taken aback. Her hoof presses against her chest. “I’m flattered, really, but...”

“You?” The Storm King laughs, a single breathy snort that matches his wide grin at her lack of understanding. “Not you! One letter turning me down was enough, thanks. That and you’re already taken. And I promised Shining Armor I wouldn’t hit on any of the mares.” He winks at her regardless, and delights in the comprehension slowly dawning on her face. “I’m talking about her.”

A single finger points directly at Celestia’s belly.

The ponies break into an uproar, barking at each other about what the Storm King really means. As expected, Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash are the most boisterous, psyching themselves up to go after him right then and there. Applejack would go low, Rainbow Dash high, and Rarity swing around behind. Princess Cadance and Shining Armor are only slightly less pugilistic, trying to keep the first three calm before they cause some sort of international incident, yet just as incensed. Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Twilight focus more on Celestia and how she freezes up, all of them caught off guard. Chrysalis sits in the back, laughing silently to herself. And Luna, who-

Stares at her front right hoof, which is crossed over her front left, head cocked to the side, oblivious to the pandemonium around her.

“Noon?” Celestia’s breath halts, her mind blanking. That she would allow her filly to be-

The alarm bells blaring in her mind fail to rouse her until after three meaty fingers wrap around her neck, locking just under her jaw. She clasps her forelegs around the muscular arm as the Storm King drags her across the tub. He lifts her up to eye level, seemingly effortlessly, though half of her body remains submerged. She recognizes the hold as the same one he used on Tempest Shadow, her lower half churning the water below in a fruitless attempt to help relieve the pressure.

“That was a good distraction, yes?” the Storm King asks with a delighted smirk. He casually traces the flat side of the Staff of Sacanas against her neck, leaving a line in the fur. He chuckles as the alicorn goes limp, no longer struggling against him. Yet he retains his hold, expecting some sort of trick or burst of action.

“Is that all this was?” Celestia whispers. She cannot keep the quiver from her voice, except it isn’t from shame at suffering an ignoble capture. Instead, it is sadness, a regret that Raikou was unable to rise to his potential. She stares into his black and teal eyes, searching, seemingly unconcerned with the hand gripping her neck.

Raikou stares back. His ebullient expression slowly morphs into one of incomprehension, puzzlement at her submission. He squeezes, hard, hoping to provoke some reaction, but all she does is grip his arm a little tighter while her eyes bug out.

He expected rage, wrestling his arm away, or charging her horn. Some sort of attack! But this? It’s worse, her… disappointment. Is he not strong enough? How can that be?! He looks over at the other ponies, taking in their vitriolic scowls.

“I…” he starts, loosening his grip, allowing the alicorn to breathe once again.

“Hey,” Doug says from the side. He’s moved forward but slowly, trying to keep his voice reasonable and friendly. He knows he’s no match for the Storm King physically, but can’t help but wonder what’s going through Celestia’s mind that she hasn’t blasted him already. “Just, put her down. We can talk this out.”

Raikou glances at Doug, the human holding his hands out to show he has nothing to hide. He frowns through gritted teeth as he turns back to Celestia, affronted by the display of vulnerability. And yet she’s still there, pleading with her eyes. Yet not begging for him to drop her; no, she’s pleading for him to do what she must think is the right thing. The weak thing. He grunts as he lets go, disgusted, yet more at himself for failing Celestia’s test.

The alicorn bobs down, her hind legs again resting on the floor of the bathtub as Doug rushes to her side. A hoof smooths out the ruffled fur as she steadies herself, still in a two-legged stance. Neither she nor Doug take their eyes off the Storm King as he pulls back and studies the Staff in his hands. Her throat hurts, a dull throb, and if it wasn’t for the earth pony part of her constitution she would be worried about suffering a few bruises.

Half a dozen voices shout some variation of, “Celestia! Are you alright?” as the ponies pour toward her.

“Hold,” Celestia commands as the other half gear up to fight. She lifts a hoof, knowing how utterly ridiculous it must seem to allow this viper in front of them a chance to mentally regroup. She nuzzles Doug, more of a short nudge to get him to let her go, but also to let him know that she is okay. He refuses, his hand staying against her side until she hops out of the tub, water dripping onto the floor.

She takes a step closer to the Storm King with the same calm, placating manner Doug used earlier. She studies him; how he crouches, both hands on the staff, staring at it with a clenched jaw and a hard look in his eyes. The kind she sees in her students struggling during a particularly hard examination, especially one they are not prepared for. It is a frustrated look, but beyond that, and if there wasn’t fur covering him she might expect to see veins popping on his forehead.

“You are serious?” she asks. She feels a pang of regret at asking the question, though she hopes it is a kindness that prunes away to leave healthy growth behind.

The Storm King takes a moment to collect himself with a series of deep breaths. He nods, scowling, all jest fading from his composure. “The way I look at it? I’ve got two options. I can go after you, here and now.” He caresses the staff in his hand, a soft touch one might slide along their lover’s inner thigh. But instead of holding love the gesture is cold and callous, a jealousy born from contempt and betrayal. “And your sister. She’s listening, right?” He turns to the cobalt alicorn, forgotten in the commotion.

Luna breaks from her stupor with a dull, glassy-eyed look. She seems to have barely registered that anything occurred between Raikou and Celestia. She walks on unsteady legs to Celestia’s side, glancing between Doug and her belly.

“Optimally, I get Cadance, too,” the Storm King continues as if having a casual conversation, still smiling. The pink alicorn doesn’t care for the mention, standing straighter as Shining Armor glares. Raikou chuckles, but it is void of emotion. “And Twilight Sparkle. But that wouldn’t be too hard, not really. Just need to hold her friends hostage or something. You’d probably qualify for that, she likes you.”

“You have no idea,” Celestia states, a bit of steel returning to her voice. Twilight wants to counter his assertion, but he’s right; there is very little she wouldn’t give up for her Friends.

“Yeah,” the Storm King agrees as he pulls back slightly, but keeps staring at the staff. “That’s why I’ve never been big on the whole ‘Friendship’ thing. As nice as it is to have someone at your back? It just makes it easier for them to stab you when the time is right.” He raises an eyebrow, his coldness turned on Celestia and carefully watching for any sort of reaction. “Does the name ‘Strife’ mean anything to you?”

Celestia considers for a moment, carefree, as if there wasn’t a being who could at any time use a device capable of stealing their magic. “You have mentioned him. Your lieutenant, or second-in-command, lost around the time you brought the Abyssinians to heel.”

“He was not lost,” the Storm King spits out, gripping the staff so tightly that it cracks. “He turned against me, but his betrayal failed. Though he didn’t call it a betrayal, because you can’t betray someone you aren’t friends with.” His eyes narrow as he stares at Celestia, neither giving an inch of ground. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that, now would you?”

Celestia’s muzzle curls to a thin smirk. “It has never been in my disposition to deal in treachery and deceit. But you must realize the folly of such an action, yes? For why would I employ means counter to the Tenets of Harmony I hold dear? Whose failure would only strengthen your resolve, whose success would only weaken my own?” She shakes her head somberly. “I am afraid it is your actions, your policy of solitude, that drove your lieutenant to commit to his course of action against you.”

A thin smirk crosses Raikou’s face. The two stare at each other for long seconds. Except he seems to be staring past her, his focus on something else entirely.

“Thought you’d say something like that,” he says to himself, nodding along. “Didn’t want to have to do this. But you know what they say.”

Everypony gasps as Raikou raises the Staff of Sacanas with a grim scowl.

And slams it down on his knee, snapping the wood in half like kindling. It sparks briefly, the light blue crystal on the end fading to black. He tosses the broken pieces to the floor.

Celestia stares at the shattered pieces. A part of her cries out at the destruction of any magical artifact. Another cannot believe he would give up such a bargaining chip without obtaining any agreement from her. And another realizes that, without the staff, the only method the Council had of removing her power and giving it to a non-alicorn is now gone, and with it their ability to force her hoof.

“If you can’t beat ‘em?” The Storm King dusts his hands off against each other, ignoring the once powerful artifact, now little more than splinters at his hooves. “Join ‘em.”

He glances at his back, then feels at his head. “Huh,” he mutters, disappointed.

“Were you hoping for a set of wings to go with your horns?” Celestia teases, glancing at Cadance and recalling how she got her horn. The pink alicorn doesn’t return it, unable to break her focus away from the… well, penitent creature in front of her. His glum demeanor, how he sighs, now lethargic in his movements.

“Can’t say it would go with my image,” Raikou says, barely able to crack a smile. He shakes his head. “No. This was a token of my sincerity.”

Celestia stares at him. She can scarcely believe her eyes and ears, wondering if this is some sort of hallucination triggered by a thaumic deficiency. Yet the longer she waits it seems less an illusion and more genuine. She believes the Storm King to be capable of anything, much like Chrysalis. But this?

“I’m listening,” she finally states, drawing back just a fraction. Not enough to seem like a retreat, but deferential, a better position to observe.

The Storm King grins, as if getting his hoof through the wall is all he needs.

“I want your filly’s hoof in marriage.”

Hints of red seep into the alicorn’s eyes. The temperature of the room rises a few degrees as her mane flickers to a bright pink. Just as quickly the shift disappears, returning to her pastel rainbow.

Uneasy glances pass among the ponies; the practice of arranging marriage is far from unheard of, but mostly among very set-in-their-ways earth ponies such as the Pies. Even then, it’s done by the parents when they think that the match will be a good one. Perhaps it is done among the nobility, seeing how many of them herd up with each other, but that could easily be a product of their social circles.

The Storm King waves a hand as Celestia opens her mouth to retort. “Woah, woah, woah. I can hear your objections already! She’s not old enough, what if she doesn’t like me, what will the other creatures think.” He flashes her a toothy smile, and it does little to mollify her wrath. “I can wait until she can and does make that choice. And until she does?” He starts listing things on his fingers. “I want a full alliance. No restrictions on trade, free movement between our people. And yes, that means you can come visit. A defensive pact, but more than that. You support our… expansion, against any who might stand in the way of ‘Friendship’.” He says the last word with a sneer, immediately trying to correct it to a half-hearted smile.

“You think we would bargain a foal away like a piece of chattel?” Doug demands, striding forward. His arm sweeps behind him. “We’re not some sort of…”

Doug trails off as he glances backward, noticing Chrysalis’ scowl. He recalls how she bargained away her changelings, ordered them on missions that might or even certainly would involve those kinds of carnal activities. But what concerns him more is how Luna has the same expression.

“Luna?” Doug asks, the rancor gone from his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering Doug, Luna addresses the Storm King. “Thou art genuine in thy desire for an alliance? Sealed in blood and bond, to adhere our nations - neigh, our world - to our cause of Friendship?”

Raikou nods solemnly, the motion short. “You know how I treat my allies. And how I treat my enemies. What better way to tie our nations together?”

“An arranged marriage?” Doug asks pointedly. The Storm King’s brows briefly furrow before he nods superfluously. “Sorry. I don’t see that happening.”

“Indeed?” Luna asks neutrally. She regards Doug carefully, her words deliberately chosen. “T’is what we share. Or dost thou believe we married for love?” She keeps from sneering, just a slight tilt of her head the only indication she is not perfectly happy with their arrangement.

“You… what?” Doug ekes out at the unexpected revelation. His legs go weak, and he can only keep himself standing by leaning on Celestia. He glances at Rainbow Dash and Rarity, but mostly Rainbow Dash. She starts to turn her head away before stopping herself, forcing magenta eyes to return his stare. He cannot bring himself to say the words.

Luna can. “It was a marriage, a herding of convenience. It was what our little ponies expected of their rulers. We have no intention of returning on the promise we made to you, even should a more suitable suitor arrive.” She spares a brief glare at Chrysalis, the changeling merely raising her nose in the air, before turning to the Storm King. “We would expect the same from you.”

“Hey, as long as she’s doing something for me,” Raikou says with a leering grin at Luna. She returns a cold stare. “And knowing you alicorns? I bet there’s a lot she can do.”

“We shall… consider… it,” Celestia states diplomatically. How much is a coded refusal is impossible to tell, the look in her eyes pensive.

Raikou laughs as he straightens, much of his boisterousness returning in an instant. “Hey, that’s a lot better than I thought it might go. And I’m still in one piece!” He works his hands down his arms, then his legs, as if he didn’t trust that to be the case. His ebullient attitude ebbs as he spots Doug’s dour expression. He bends down to be at eye level. “I’m sensing that you don’t like me.” He winks with a wry smirk. “Dad.”

“Gee,” Doug deadpans. “What gave you that impression?”

Raikou chuckles, slapping Doug on the back and nearly bowling him over. “You know what we need? A little chat. Just us guys. What’d’ya say?”

“This seems like a terrible idea,” Doug replies, looking to Celestia for support.

He finds a soft smile and a gentle nudge in return.

“Seriously?” Doug sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “We need to be back to the Council, and-”

“-Hey, I get all that,” Raikou interrupts, cutting to the chase. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We’ll get to know each other a little better while these fine ladies-” he motions to the mares with a wide sweep “-hash out some sort of agreement. I’ll make my counter-offer, we’ll go back and forth a bit. It’s how these things go.”

“I-I’m not sure,” Doug trails off, glancing at his mares. To his surprise, Twilight Sparkle steps forward.

“It’s okay,” she reassures, barely needing to stretch up to nuzzle him. She offers him an apple-eating grin. “I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

Doug wants to strangle her but settles for a very tight hug around the neck.

“So, we good?” The Storm King grins without waiting for a response. “We good.” He practically skips to the door, pausing only to grab Doug’s pair of embroidered gloves. He glances from the open doorway at the enveloped human, slapping the gloves against the wall to get his attention. “You coming or what?”

Doug sighs in Twilight’s grasp, taking a moment to enjoy her embrace. Yet Luna’s words weigh heavily on him, and Raikou’s insistence doesn’t help. With a sigh he pulls away, yet she resists, and he could swear he hears a faint giggle. He smirks and curls his fingers, running along her barrel with light nips and scratches at her ticklish spots. She squirms, biting her tongue, but when he passes a patch of exposed skin she jolts at the unfamiliar contact. She backs away with a surprised smile, the touch of his hand on her muzzle lingering.

“Wish me luck,” he whispers as he rubs at his head, still in a bit of a daze. He glances at Luna, takes a deep breath, and jogs to catch up to the lanky Storm King.

Luna waits until the door closes before she turns to the gathered ponies. She takes a moment to assess each one before sighing. “We all have our reasons for herding. But we cannot condone promising one of our own to him.”

“Ah’m with ya there,” Applejack agrees. She sits down to free up her forelegs, the other ponies forming a rough circle. “Besides, ain’t any’a y’all suspicious about that there Storm fella promisin’ to join our cause?” She smacks her hoof against the floor, scowling. “The side of Harmony, benefittin’ from some nefarious creature! That ain’t how this is suppost’a go!”

“Indeed,” Rarity chimes in. “How many stories are solved when the villain betrays his former colleagues? None.” She raises her hoof, belting out bombastically, “Mark my words! This is only to set up a later betrayal, ala Discord, to better position him to stab us in the back.”

“But if we know he’s going to stab us in the back,” Rainbow Dash says, scratching at her head. One eye squints as she tries to puzzle out the problem. “Aren’t we just going to… you know… not let him do that?”

“But what about-” Fluttershy starts.

“But what about the idiot ball!” Pinkie Pie shouts over Fluttershy as she leaps into the air. She grins sheepishly as she slowly lowers back down. “Oh. Sorry. I spoke out of turn. You were about to say that.”

“I… um…” Fluttershy says, her face scrunching up. “I was?”

Pinkie Pie nods furiously. “Yup! How the characters need to act in an idiotic manner in order to fall into the obvious trap!

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy says, shaking her head. She taps her hooves together, embarrassed at correcting her herdmate. “That’s not what I was going to say at all.”

“You weren’t?” Pinkie Pie squats down. “Oh.”

“Mm.” Fluttershy nods. “I was just going to comment on how, if the Storm King does swap sides, then that’ll make it really tough for the others to gang up on us. Like when I was a filly; there were two bullies that teased me. They only went away when Rainbow Dash stood up for me.” Fluttershy smiles bashfully. “Well, that and Rainbow Dash is a really good flyer.”

“That I am,” Rainbow Dash states proudly, a hoof on her chest as she beams.

“You know what it sounds like we need?” Twilight Sparkle asks. Her horn whips out a large sheet of paper, an easel, and a broadhead quill. She brandishes the quill, grinning broadly.

Rainbow Dash hunkers down, clasping her hooves. “Don’t say chart don’t say chart don’t say chart…”

Half of the ponies appear to share her sentiment, the other half covering their muzzles while they giggle.

Twilight Sparkle rolls her eyes. “We need a list.”

A cerulean head thunks against the floor.

“We can make a list of pros and cons about each choice.” Twilight Sparkle sighs as Rainbow Dash moans. “Problem?”

Rainbow Dash waves a hoof at the paper. “It’s, just, this is such an…”

She trails off, curling up a little as she forces a smile.

Twilight Sparkle closes her eyes for a moment. “It’s okay, Dash,” she says, opening them and smiling softly at her herdmate. “I can take being called an egghead.”

“No, it’s not…” Rainbow Dash stops for a brief second before speaking rapidly, “Okay, it’s totally that. But if we don’t trust this guy, why should we go along with him?”

“That’s a great question,” Twilight Sparkle says, her smile widening as Rainbow Dash’s ears perk up along with the mare. “But it depends a lot on that ‘if’. What do you say to a little… reconnaissance?”

Rainbow Dash snaps the fastest salute of her life. “I’m on it!” she calls as she speeds out the window.

Twilight chuckles, not surprised in the slightest. “Spike?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Spike calls as he takes to the air. He’s unsteady, but quickly improving, as he tries to hover next to the easel. He grabs the quill from Twilight’s aura, remarking, “Hey, this is way easier than climbing!”

“Divide the board into four areas,” Twilight commands in a firm but gentle manner. “The outside ones four times as large as the inside. The outside will have reasons for or against the Storm King’s proposal while the inside just needs a number for our weighting, or how important each of those reasons is.”

“You got it!” Spike returns, drawing vertical lines separating the columns. He only knocks the board over once before using the up and down motion to his advantage. Writing the reasons already stated - chance of betrayal and Storm King on the cons, military force on the pros - is considerably harder, only able to tackle a letter or two with each flap.

“He did break the Staff, and as far as I could tell that was the real thing.” Twilight waits for Spike to write the reason before turning to the rest of the mares. “Surely it would have been easier for him to take over if he still had it in his possession!”

“But what if he’s just waiting to pull a Jerkflank Johnson right when we think we’ve won?!” Pinkie Pie pulls at her eyelids, stretching them past the point of absurdity. “Then he could take over everywhere!”

“Couldn’t he just’a zapped all the alicorns if he just wanted Equestria?” Applejack frowns at the thought of the Princesses going down so easily. “You know everypony would surrender without a fight.” She pulls her hat off as she sighs. “Hay, he probably wouldn’t even need to force ‘em to work for him. Ah know Ah’d be, um, compliant, Ah suppose, just workin’ at the farm, talkin’ less about Harmony an’ wearin’ a funny insignia on this here beauty.” She taps the brim of her hat, her eyes flicking at Luna and thinking about when Nightmare Moon tried to take over.

It’s apparent the other mares have the same idea, Luna included. She grimly nods; peace and harmony has done much for their land, but prepare them to resist invasion forces? Not so much.

“He needs the other nations to back off first,” Shining Armor adds through gritted teeth. “Otherwise they’d carve up their own slices of Equestria. Literally. Also, speaking as the Captain of the Guard?” Shining Armor glares at Applejack.

“Oh, um,” Applejack stammers, putting her hat back on to cover her shame. She can’t bring herself to say she didn’t mean it.

“I’m ashamed at your accurate assessment of the Guard’s capabilities.” Shining Armor turns to Princess Celestia. “With your permission, I would like to propose a radical surge in our forces, as well as a shift from peacekeeping responsibilities to a more active role in our nation’s defenses.”

“Acknowledged,” Celestia says neutrally, her curt tone considerably more militaristic than normal. “Draw up plans, but we shall have hope that this situation resolves itself considerably more peacefully.”

“Of course,” Shining Armor says, briefly dipping his head.

The ponies wait, looking at Twilight expectantly. It takes her a moment to realize.

“Oh! It’s my turn.” Twilight clears her throat as she studies the board. “This alliance that the Storm King proposed. While it obligates us militarily-” Spike adds that to the cons “-it also opens them up for Friendship. This could be, aside from when the changelings joined, the largest opportunity to spread our cause across their land. Pinkie Pie, you spent some time with them.” Her eyes shimmer at the possibility, a wide smile across her muzzle. “How receptive do you think they would be to a message about the Elements of Harmony?”

“It’s a pretty tight-knit group,” Pinkie Pie muses, pulling a cupcake out of her mane and peering at it. “They’re, like, super loyal to the Storm King. They really liked my party and my cupcakes, especially that Grubber guy, so that’s Laughter.” She shrugs, tossing the cupcake in her mouth and gulping it down in one bite. “They’d be receptive, especially if Raikou goes along with it.”

“And when he requires more and more to ‘go along with it’?” Luna spits out. “It will be, at a bare minimum, a dozen years before he sees more than her bare flank. Will he be satisfied with a mere alliance during that time?”

“That alliance works both ways,” Cadance adds, drawing a curious glance from Shining Armor. “If we require him to secure our permission before invading somewhere, that would curtail his aggressive expansion.”

“If he listens to us,” Shining Armor counters. His stern gaze sweeps across the others. “Who’s to say he will?”

“If he doesn’t,” Cadance replies, “then that gives us cause to pull out.” She motions to Luna. “He needs to be on his best behavior for more than a decade before he gets the reward he’s after.” She sighs at herself. “Look at me, considering a filly a reward.” Her voice catches as she nuzzles her husband. “Though I was willing to consider myself a ‘reward’ before I knew we could start a family together.”

“Perhaps that is the difference,” Celestia muses, her hoof scratching at her chin. She glances at Chrysalis, thinking back to the Tirek incident. “I, too, was willing to sacrifice myself and my future as a last ditch effort if it meant keeping my little ponies alive. But it was something I was willing to offer, not something demanded of me.”

“And what is the difference?” Chrysalis asks, finding herself drawn into the conversation. “Whether it is a mountain’s chill that will freeze to death those on the outermost edge, or a pursuing force who will slaughter the slowest among you, a choice must be made. It matters not whether you force out or hamstring those least valuable among you.” She motions at Spike and the rows of reasons. “The price will be paid. And if you are so worried about one pony’s purity that you would condemn ten thousand to an early grave?” She shakes her head wistfully.

“Ah can think of one Grave who’d take ten thousand ponies,” Applejack says under her breath, earning a few snickers.

“And you’re not worried about your changelings being the ones paying the price?” Shining Armor demands, ignoring Applejack.

“I do not fear death, and neither do they,” Chrysalis states, drawing herself up to stare down at the unicorn. “But that does not mean that I am not worried. Just as I am, and you should be, worried about your ponies.”

Luna scowls at the assertion. “And if the Storm King demands a dozen changelings to serve him in any capacity?”

“Then she would breed two dozen spares,” Cadance replies easily, winking at Chrysalis as she beats the changeling to the buck. “She wants that primate-”

“Hedgehog,” Chrysalis corrects before Cadance can go any further.

Cadance’s brow scrunches up. “Wait, really?”

“It sounds like the main objections to agreeing to this agreement,” Twilight says, trying to get them back on track as she looks over Spike’s nearly illegible clawwork, “are whether or not the Storm King can be trusted to keep his word. That he may not be doing this with the best of intentions or for the right reasons. And that we shouldn’t pressure a young mare into this kind of… arrangement.” She glances around the room. “Anything else?”

Sky Beak speaks up from the back, shaking his head with disappointment. “Once again, you ponies think only of yourselves. I am saddened to have thought any differently.” He turns and exits out the window as the ponies gape.

“Wait, he was still here?” Applejack says, brow furrowing.

Pinkie Pie frowns, rubbing at her eyes as they fill with tears. “And now he’s sad.”

“It’s not easy making everypony happy,” Twilight says, trying to comfort Pinkie Pie. “It’s even harder to make everycreature happy.” She grimaces at the board. “We know he hasn’t been the nicest creature. But it sounds to me like he wants to change. If there’s a chance the Storm King will honor his word, shouldn’t we try? Or should we dwell on the past?”

Luna had opened her mouth to object, but finds it difficult when Twilight turns to her. “We may not be defined by the past. But we are defined by our actions. If Doug judges the Storm King to be of sound character? And is returned, unharmed and on time?”

Celestia gathers herself together, sitting up straight and looking Twilight in the eye. “Do you truly believe this to be the wisest course of action?”

Twilight stalls for time as she takes a hard look at the board. “The arguments for agreement are that an alliance would be a boon for spreading Friendship across the globe, to creatures who never considered it before. Perhaps even release the Hippogriffs to the air once more. It will hopefully prevent a disastrous war, boosting our defenses in the future, and save thousands of lives at the cost of one. And even that one is not truly lost.”

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she concentrates. The decision is monumental. Would she, could she, promise off one so young, so innocent, so precious, to a power-hungry dictator? What would the Elements say? Would she lose her connection to them if she made the wrong choice? How can she know when the choice is so difficult!?

She looks at her Friends. Each of them, waiting for her to make her decision. Watching, with bright, open eyes, trusting her to choose correctly. Her! An untested alicorn, for all the trials she has gone through. A pony just starting on her journey, learning about Friendship. She has had her Friends along with her, helping her through the struggles and uncertainties. What did the Storm King have?

Is she just supposed to trust that things will work out for the best? To have hope for the future, to believe that there resides in each creature a potential to grow beyond our selfish desires? That even if they get stabbed in the back they should still work and strive and sacrifice for their enemy in the hope that they might one day realize the error of their ways. Because to do otherwise would be to believe that they are incapable of growth, that they are undeserving of forgiveness, and that their enemy is no different than themselves.

And when she puts it like that? It feels like a great weight is lifted off her withers as she stands, confidently looking Celestia in the eye.

“Even… even if it were my own foal. I would do it.”

Doug struggles to keep up as the Storm King bounds to the nearest flight of stairs, taking them four steps at a time with giant leaps that barely seem to faze him. His legs, his arms, his whole being feels like it is just being dragged along for the ride, his heart not into the runs he normally loves. The exertion cannot rid his mind of Luna’s admission, and neither can the piercing whistle Raikou looses as soon as they reach the roof.

“You seem a little down,” Raikou remarks as Doug glumly walks next to him, his energetic voice oddly compassionate. He stares out across the city, then up at one of the heavy warships disgorging a light shuttle.

“You think?” Doug snaps back. He sighs, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s, just, one of my mares is only with me to have a foal.”

Raikou waits as Doug pauses, looking like he wants to lean on something and missing the staff.

“I mean,” Doug continues, filling the silence, “it’s not like I didn’t know this was a possibility. Even with her. Especially with her. I knew she wanted to keep up with Celestia in the foal department. I just… I don’t know, I thought she liked me more than that. We talked, during jogs and whatnot, about what she was working on, what she ate, listening to her complain. But it was never about anything particularly deep. I can’t help but blame myself for not noticing sooner and doing something about it.”

“Mm.” Raikou goes to his belt, digging into the lower back compartment. He unsnaps a clear flask and offers it to Doug. “Try this. It’ll help.”

Doug frowns, but takes it. FFMCT is stamped with stylized gold letters. Amber colored liquid with flecks of purple swish around inside; he pops the top off and takes a cautious whiff. It smells like apples and... something. “What is it?”

“It’s the best,” the Storm King laughs. “Loosens you up, lowers inhibitions. Helps you do anything you put your mind to. I’d swear by it if I ever made any promises.”

One of Doug’s eyebrows narrows as he stares. “And your earlier ‘promise’ about an alliance? Or would you call that something different?”

“That?” Raikou shakes his head. “That was just a proposal. Not the marriage kind. The business kind.” He adds a wink, Doug not looking amused. “Now, if you agree to those terms?” He offers a half-hearted shrug. “Who knows? But I am a hedgehog of my word. Most creatures just don’t like what I have to say.”

“Honesty is an important tenet,” Doug says, nodding to himself. He holds up the full flask and looks Raikou in the eyes. “This isn’t harmful?”

Raikou holds up a hand, fingers straight. “Tip’s honor. It won’t hurt you.” He smirks, chuckling. “Just the stupid stuff you think of and do that’ll hurt you.”

Doug eyes the flask, then the broad smile of the creature next to him. ”Guess the worse that can happen is a slow and painful death,” he casually remarks as he takes a swig. It tastes like apple juice and some bitter vegetable, eliciting a pucker and grimace. He tries to pass the flask back.

“Finish it!” Raikou cajoles, refusing the flask. He waves to his belt. “I buy crates of the stuff, I’ve got plenty!”

A gag at the awful taste isn’t enough to stop him, the effects of the tonic already coursing, and Doug chugs down the rest. He shudders, suppresses a small burp, and looks for somewhere to put the empty flask. He realizes, just now, that his inventory space consists of his two hands. He didn’t bring his armor - or any clothes at all - but it doesn’t really bother him.

He turns to inspect the creature next to him, starting with his cloven hooves shaped like a satyr’s, the bulky armor built to withstand a battle axe chopping at neck chest, ending up staring at the twin horns jutting out like lightning bolts from the Storm King’s head. He can’t stop himself from running a hand along the white fur that pokes out from the chestplate down to the armguard. It’s thick and coarse, yet surprisingly relaxing. He notices something odd under the fur around the shoulder, but it’s difficult to make out. “So, a hedgehog? Not really seeing it.”

“Try going the other way,” Raikou dares with a smirk. He chortles as Doug tries, only to impale himself on the sharp quills. “See? I’m just like that. I can be your best friend, but if you rub me the wrong way?” He sneers, exposing his fangs. “Makes putting on the armor a bit of a chore, but that’s why I never take it off.”

“...I can tell,” Doug says as he nurses the dozen tiny pinpricks oozing minute droplets of blood. A bit of the Storm King’s musk gets to him, not that it smells awful. He sighs, slouching over, still a little depressed.

“That’s not enough to take your mind off it?” Raikou ponders, scratching at his chin while staring up at the approaching shuttle. His face brightens with an idea, and it does not give Doug a good feeling. “Hey, I know just the place!”

Doug regards him dubiously. “Really?”

“Really!” The Storm King grins, inspecting Doug from head to toe. Mostly his toes. “How good are you with your feet? You’ll need ‘em, and your mouth, for the sows at this place!”

”I, um…” The only reasons Doug can think of that involve his feet and sows are not exactly hygienic. The curious part of him wants to try, and that side only grows stronger the longer he thinks about it. His decision-making process, befuddled as it is, gets cut short by a snort from Raikou.

“Oh, of course! I should have known.” The Storm King waves as Rainbow Dash blasts away from the building, executes a perfect hairpin turn and lands next to them. “You’d bring your own.”

“Your own what?” Rainbow Dash asks, partway between suspicious and demanding.

The Storm King’s smile does little to mollify the pegasus. “Companion.”

“...Right.” Rainbow Dash turns to Doug, sniffing him distrustfully. “You okay?”

“He’s fine,” Raikou says, grabbing Doug with one arm and gripping him in a tight hug against his chest. He rubs at Doug’s short-cropped hair, fending off the cursory attempts to break free. “Just needs to loosen up a little. He tried one of these.” He pulls out a flask, tossing it to Rainbow Dash as he pushes Doug away.

“You drank something he gave you?” she deadpans, catching it with a frown.

“It seemed like a good idea,” Doug says as he regains his balance, trailing off as the shuttle pulls up next to the embassy. It’s a miniature airship, with space for a dozen creatures, powered by a single propeller jutting off the back and a balloon that seems far oversized. Two storm guards, armored with the standard teal insignias, welcome them aboard while a hippogriff salutes from the helm.

“Sam! Ralph!” Raikou greets the guards with hearty slaps across the back. It’s hard to tell with their helmets, but judging by the way their beady eyes light up they seem elated to meet their king.

Doug notices a weird flash on the first guard’s shoulder, the same spot as Raikou. At first he thinks it’s a trick of the light, but sees the same on the second one. He walks up to the guard, who merely watches him curiously. “What’s that?” he blurts out, pointing.

“This?” comes the muffled reply. The guard transfers his spear to his shield hand, then runs a large hand through his fur. Going slowly, it appears to be a tattoo of some kind, teal twin lightning bolts surrounded by a dark storm cloud, with a six digit number on the bottom and ‘Heri Clarum Caelum’ on the bottom. “Means, ‘clear sky was yesterday’.”

“Huh,” Doug says, curious that furred creatures would get such a design.

As soon as the conversation is over Raikou cheerfully waves at the hippogriff. “Kay! Didn’t expect you to come down to get us!”

“Oh?” The hippogriff’s regal, commanding voice reaches Doug easily as he snaps a rigid salute. He offers the human a courteous bow as he steps aboard. “Incoming royalty should be greeted by the commanding officer, yes?”

“Oh, right,” Raikou says, bopping himself on the head. “Temp isn’t back yet, is she?”

“Commander Tempest Shadow is not aboard, correct.” The hippogriff spins the wheel and raises a bar, the shuttle slowly rising into the air. He turns to Doug and Rainbow Dash, deftly ignoring how the human is curiously regarding him. “Lieutenant Commander Kay Ay, at your service. You must be the Prince?”

“One of them,” Doug replies, barely managing a smile. “Prince Consort Doug Apple and Rainbow Dash, third mare and Element of Loyalty.” Rainbow Dash gives a curt nod. “You know, I think Pinkie Pie mentioned you.”

At the mention of the name both storm guards turn, ears flicking and gauntlets moving to rub at their bellies.

“Ah! The one affectionately referred to as ‘The Pink Menace’.” Kay Ay points at the front of the warship, still coated in a pink layer of cake. “Her hoofwork has proven difficult to expunge, to say nothing of her party! I dare say, she could oust His Majesty himself with a few more of those!”

“Hey, I’m not trying to start a mutiny here,” Doug says, holding his hands up and grinning.

“Shame,” Kay Ay returns with a wink. “Still, you must have some purpose coming aboard our finest vessel. Come for some sort of inspection?” He eyes Doug with a growing curiosity. “I didn’t realize you had such varied interests.”

“I’m fascinated by the stuff,” Doug replies eagerly, a bit of his funk disappearing. He peers at the various weaponry. “Like, your cannons. And are those harpoon guns?”

“You have a keen eye!” Kay Ay grins. “But more important than the weapons is the branding. After all, if our opponents know exactly what we are capable of, and, how shall I say, how readily those weapons might turn on them? It just makes everycreatures job easier.”

“You don’t say,” Doug says, scratching at his chin.

“He’s just trying to forget about a mare,” Raikou teases, drawing closer to Doug and ignoring how Rainbow Dash eyes him defensively.

“Hey!” Doug retorts, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to forget about her, I’m trying to get to know her better. And remind myself to do that.”

“Urgh,” the Storm King moans, rubbing at his head.

“...Problem?” Doug asks, sighing.

“Look.” Raikou glances away, then returns to Doug, a low growl in his voice. “You want me to be honest with you? Fine. What you have with these mares, these Friendships? It’s a distraction. They’re just using you to get what they want.”

Doug nods. “That’s right.”

“And they-” The Storm King stops, staring at Doug. “Wait, what?”

“That’s right,” Doug repeats. Rainbow Dash glances at him, unsure, cocking her head to the side. “You’re right, they are using me to get what they want.”

“And you go along with it?” The Storm King throws his arms in the air. “It’ll just make you forget your own goals! And focus on making them better! And that makes you weak!”

“In some ways,” Doug agrees. His conciliatory tone seems to make Raikou even more furious. “It makes me vulnerable to them, certainly. It increases their power over me.”

“But what about your ambitions? Your goals?” The Storm King turns to Rainbow Dash. “You wanted to be a Wonderfilly, right?”

“Wonderbolt,” Rainbow Dash says through gritted teeth, though her aggravation is directed at Doug.

“How’s that working out for you, huh?” Raikou motions at her belly, just barely showing the signs of her pregnancy. “You gonna be one any time soon?”

Rainbow Dash gathers her strength, turning to face the Storm King. She takes to the air, having to keep rising to stay level with him. “Yeah. I am. And you know what?” She bares her teeth, almost at a snarl. “If my dreams got delayed? It was for something greater. And he’s been there to help me see it.”

“Aww, look who’s so loyal!” Raikou’s high-pitched sneer grates on Rainbow Dash.

“I would say you’re just as loyal,” Doug interrupts before Rainbow Dash can start something. “Your crew, they put their trust and loyalty in you. And you prove yourself worthy of that trust by working for their benefit. Yes?”

“Yeah,” the Storm King says curtly. “I reciprocate. That’s not friendship. These guys put their lives on the line for me, I do the same for them.”

“I think that’s a big part of friendship,” Doug argues. “It’s not the only part. Your troops mean a lot to you. And while you may not view them as friends, and maybe you shouldn’t view them as friends, exactly, a lot of the traits carry over. Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty. Even Kindness, in that treating them harshly can be the kind thing in the end, when what you say needs to be followed without question. And Laughter, that optimism, that never-leave-a-man-behind attitude.”

Raikou eyes Doug curiously. “And you see your mares the same way?”

Doug nods firmly. “I do. My interests, my ambitions, coincide with theirs. We have a mutually beneficial relationship that empowers both of us. The power of friendship.”

A grin curls on Raikou’s face. “Then I know just the thing to show them.”

“Show them?” Doug isn’t sure whether he should be offended at the implication that he doesn’t show his mares how he feels about them or glad for some insight into how the Storm King would act. With how Luna sees him? Perhaps he could use the tip, if only to try something that might succeed.

Raikou dangles Doug’s gloves in front of him, the ones embroidered with the nine cutie marks of the mares in the herd. Dirt and sweat stains the fingers, the edges a bit ragged if only because they were meant as more of a decorative piece and not work gloves.

“Hey!” Doug exclaims. It’s obvious he wants to walk over and snatch them away, but he’ll look the fool if the much taller Storm King just raises them into the air. “Careful with those!”

“Worried they might get lost overboard?” Raikou grins as he mimes doing just that.

“Not with me around,” Rainbow Dash retorts, flicking her wings out emphatically. She growls, low and menacing, her eyes narrowing as Raikou laughs.

“How are you so wound up?” The Storm King leers at Rainbow Dash. “Do your mares not give you enough attention?”

“Not with me around,” Rainbow Dash repeats defensively, drawing close to her stallion. She abhors the thought that that might be the case, or why he ended up yielding himself to Chrysalis. She glares at the Storm King, who returns one just as venomous.

“What was your idea?” Doug states, trying to diffuse the animosity between the two.

The Storm King pauses, his head turning to Doug slowly enough to be creepy. “These are mares who bore your foals.” He motions at Rainbow Dash and the complete lack of space between her and Doug. “They obviously care for you. And you for them. But can others see that?” He stands tall, pointing to the waving flags bearing the Storm King’s insignia. Then at the guards, each proudly displaying the same. “It’s all about branding, you know?”

“Branding?” Doug scowls. “I’m not going to mark up my mares on a whim.”

“You never thought about it?” Raikou says, almost as a cheerful joke. Yet there is intensity behind his words, a sense of condemnation, a chill in his narrowing eyes.

“Briefly.” Doug grips his upper arm, just below the shoulder. He shudders, his knuckles going white as he grimaces. “I had a… dream, of sorts. Where each mare was bound to me, coerced by ultimatum and not by choice. That binding was symbolized by a band around my arm and their foreleg, and a collar around their filly’s neck. That put me off the idea entirely, not that I strongly felt like doing it anyway.”

“So this is a one-way street,” Raikou coldly states. He mimics how Doug crosses his arms, a thumb jabbing into his chest. “Where we conform exactly to your standards and you embrace none of ours.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Doug says, any traces of anger evaporating in an instant.

“Then enlighten the big dumb hog over here!” Raikou roars as he spreads his arms wide, as if inviting an attack. “What did you want from me? You want me to make our cannons party sized, put streamers on our spears and make our armor into costumes?”

Doug sighs, shaking his head. “We’re not asking for any of that, not directly.”

“Then what do you want?” Raikou flips his hand at the embassy below them. “Or do I never have a shot with that filly of yours?”

“Well, that’s part of the problem.” Doug joins him in looking down at the building, Rainbow Dash still at his side and wary about falling off. “If I tell you what we want, you can do that, but it doesn’t exemplify the shift in thinking that we’re looking for. It could just be a single item, like copying on a test. We want something that comes from you.”

The Storm King’s eyes narrow. “Like what?”

“For instance?” Doug’s mouth purses as he thinks. “Let’s take one of your shows of strength. Picking up and disciplining Tempest Shadow. Or teaching her, however you see it. Did you think that was something you had to do, that made you look strong?”

“Yeah,” Raikou snaps back.

“That’s not how the ponies saw it.” Doug takes a deep breath. “They saw a bully terrorizing a weak opponent, not that I think Tempest is weak. They had to remind themselves that you don’t think the same way they do. That this is how you show others that you care about them, by taking the time and teaching them a valuable lesson, so that they too can become strong like you. But that initial reaction? That fear, that vitriol stuck with them, far more than the explanation they came up with after the fact.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Raikou says. To Doug’s surprise he has a small pad of paper out, jotting down notes. “How would I do that?”

Doug can’t help but smile at that. “So, you have to put yourself in their shoes.” He glances down at his bare feet, then at Rainbow Dash’s and the Storm King’s horseshoe’d hooves. Close enough. “Think about where they are coming from. A good starting point would be the parts of their core philosophy that are non-negotiable. Take the Tenets of Harmony, for six. Now, their application in every situation might be subject to some debate. In fact, you could study those topics all your life and still not know every answer; Princess Celestia has said as much about herself learning about Friendship. But the broad implications are clear. Don’t lie, don’t steal, don’t cheat, don’t hurt, don’t insult, don’t alienate.”

Raikou mutters to himself, “So, some sort of gesture the ponies would appreciate. Hmm.”

“And remember,” Doug cautions. “You can’t treat them like some sort of investment, where you expect some return for what you put in. ‘I do something for you, and you do something for me.’ I know that’s how you perceive a lot of interactions, it’s understandable. But you can’t look at this like that, worrying about who gets more or who will be better off by the relationship. It’s symbiotic. We both gain, but again, that’s not the point. The point is to deepen your relationship with the other person, to understand them, to be friends with them.”

The Storm King stares at the list, his eyes gradually narrowing as his hand plays at his chin. The pensive look is disconcerting on a creature you’d expect to see recklessly rampaging around.

After a long while he glances at Doug. “And how does getting a tattoo violate these?”

“Um,” Doug stalls. “I, well, if it’s voluntary?” He sighs as he glances down, inspecting himself for any marks he might use. “It might not. But, what would I even put on them, anyway?”

“For us? You put on something you’re committed to. Something you’re loyal to, something you’re not going to give up. But they’ve gone through enough on your behalf.” Raikou winks at Rainbow Dash. She merely flicks her mane, though joins Doug in inspecting his sides curiously. He tucks away the paper as he stands. “Dash, gonna borrow you for this.”

“Um, what?” the pegasus retorts as Raikou wraps his arm around her barrel and hoists her up. “The hay!”

“Uh-” Doug gets out before a wing slaps him in the face. He sputters, trying to push away the flailing limbs, and it’s only when the pegasus is halfway across his chest, her flank pressing into his shoulder, that she lets up. “What are you doing?”

“Wouldn’t that look great?” Raikou grins, mashing Dash’s cutie mark into Doug and holding her in place. He pulls back slowly, letting Doug take the weight; once he does, Rainbow Dash glances back, her venom replaced by curiosity. The Storm King frames a picture of the two. “Lightning bolt, right there? Perfect.”

“My cutie mark?” Rainbow Dash asks, frowning. “We put that on saddlebags, not stallions.”

“I-it’s not really something I’ve considered,” Doug stammers. He grunts as he lets go of Rainbow Dash with one hand, struggling to carry her with one arm, and rubs at the spot. “I’d need a lot more tonic.” He yelps as Raikou tosses him another flask, barely able to catch it in time.

“Me, too,” Rainbow Dash says, a bit more prepared for the flask coming her way. She inspects the bottle, shrugs as Doug pops open his, and guzzles it with him. She eyes the empty flask. “Hey; this stuff is pretty good, once you get past the beets.”

“I know, right?” Raikou says with a wide smile, taking the empty flasks. “And whatever mark Noon gets?” He flexes his arm as he bares his shoulder, a hand running through the fur to expose his Storm Guard tattoo. “Whoops, that side’s taken.” He turns to his other side. “I’d put it right there.” He frowns at their lack of reaction, how they mostly stare at each other. “What, you don’t like it?”

“Ugh,” Doug says, wiping any remains of the tonic off his mouth. He looks again at his shoulder. “You really think it would look good?”

“Oh, what, you don’t like my mark now?” Rainbow Dash smirks as she wriggles in his arms. “I thought you couldn’t get enough of me.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Doug says, rubbing at her mane as he sets her down. “I’m just thinking about where the rest of them will go.”

“The rest?” Rainbow’s eyes go wide. “You’d get nine marks?”

The shuttle comes to a stop aside the pink-stained warship, quickly enough to nearly get Doug to stumble. Rainbow Dash takes to the air as one of the half-dozen teal-clad guards drops a gangplank and holds it in place. Four stand watch over their quadrant of the sky, the last leaning off the side and looking down.

“Grubber!” the Storm King bellows as he dances down the gangplank, seemingly unconcerned about the thousand-foot drop.

Doug stands and steps to the edge of the shuttle. And glances down. The city looms below, tiny buildings built into a sandcastle while ants scurry about. He gulps, his knees going weak, unable to move a leg onto the possibly-unsteady piece of wood a creature eight times his mass just traversed.

“Hey,” Dash reassures with a calming nuzzle to Doug’s shoulder. Magenta eyes beam his way, a hoof stretching out to give him something to hold on to. “You got this.”

“We got this,” Doug says, gripping the hoof tight. The board doesn’t shift as he steps on, a dozen steps taking him to the other side. He lets out a huge breath, squeezing appreciably. “Together.”

“Hey, guyth,” a rotund hedgehog greets amiably. Grubber barely comes up to Rainbow Dash’s withers, his armor more of a loose-fitting tunic that leaves his arms, legs, and tail exposed. A white-tipped gray mane goes from his tail to between his notched ears, looking particularly spiky. He munches on a piece of pink cake, taking large bites that he nonetheless savors immensely. He asks eagerly, “Did ya bring more cake?”

“Go get your inks,” Raikou commands. He glances at Rainbow Dash and Doug. “Please.”

“Uh,” Grubber says, frowning at that last word. He scratches at his head while finishing off the cake. “Kinda hard to work without cake.”

Raikou hides his scowl as he walks over to the side of the warship, scoops up a ball of frosting, and dumps it on Grubber’s plate.

Grubber stares at the frosting, hunching down slightly, before curiously glancing up at the vicious smile of the Storm King. “It’th, uh…” He motions somewhere behind him. “I’ve got ‘em over here.” He waddles off, Doug getting his gloves back before he and Rainbow Dash follow, easily able to keep up as they head belowdecks.

The warship is massive, with six decks arranged around a reactor room that stretches from the base of the hull to the top of the main deck. Rainbow Dash sticks close to Doug, peering around corners at the thick beams of wood and metal armor clad to the hull. She peeks through every porthole as if making sure she could squeeze through them, giving Doug a nervous smile each time she races back to him.

They come to a stop in a remarkably clean room at the fore of the ship, about halfway down.

“You do tattoos?” Doug asks the short hedgehog, glancing around the sickbay at the various instruments, bottles, and stacks and stacks of bandages, many strapped down or behind locked cabinets. It’s about as well equipped as Ponyville General, though more suited for battlefield injuries than pregnant mares.

“Thure,” Grubber replies with a heavy lisp, nodding along as he pats the top of a bolted-down operating table. He unhooks and pushes out a stepladder, placing it next to the table, then pulls out a drawer containing dozens of colors of ink, teal and gray massively overstocked. “Thmall guy like me? I thcrub floorth, do tattooth, and get thent out firtht to thet up loudthpeakerth.” He chortles as he scarfs down the rest of the icing. “What’d’ya expect, me to pick up a thield?”

“Nah, just curious.” Doug sits down on the table, his gloves in his lap.

“Tho, you both hiring on?” Grubber licks his claws clean of any trace of icing, then scrubs them down. “Getting the teal and steel?”

“Actually, a bit of custom work.” Doug taps Rainbow Dash’s flank, then the gloves. Grubber turns to watch. “Raikou suggested it, and we… like the idea. Her cutie mark on my right shoulder.”

“Thure.” Grubber pulls out red, yellow, blue, white, and black, bringing them over to compare to Rainbow Dash’s actual colors. He likes the yellow, but pulls out a dab of blue and red onto a board. His tongue pokes out as he squints, getting the perfect amount of black to mix in and match the shade. “And the retht?”

Doug glances at Rainbow Dash, motioning to each spot. “Three apples on my hand?”

The pegasus smirks. “She is your right-hoof mare. Err, right-hand.”

“Rarity, the three diamonds, on my left. Butterflies on left shoulder.” Doug pauses as he considers. “Balloons on my hip?”

“Nah,” Rainbow Dash says, shaking her head. “Ponies might think you actually got a cutie mark or something.”

“Okay.” Doug taps at his leg. “Balloons on my right thigh, star on my left, wand on my right calf. Then Celestia’s sun on my chest, moon on my back.”

“Life-thith?” Grubber frowns. He points at Rainbow Dash. “I can do thith one, no problem. I’d want the retht here to make thure they’re the right thith.”

“Probably don’t have time now, anyway.” Doug positions himself so his shoulder is where Grubber will stand, laying down and trying to relax. The tonic, whatever was inside, makes it easier.

“For thomething thith big?” Grubber brings over a needle, jabbing it into Doug’s upper arm. He grunts unhappily as a drop of blood wells. “Too long. One thec.”

Rainbow Dash lays down, her cutie mark as close to Doug’s shoulder as she can get without interfering when Grubber starts working. At the next light gasp of his she turns, watching as Grubber lightly marks where he will be working.

It doesn’t take long before she gets bored.

“Hey, Dash,” Doug says as she gently bashes her head against his side. Grubber angrily grunts as Doug shifts, his clawed hand able to grip like a vice despite his small size. Doug tries to hold still as he reaches behind Rainbow’s ears, drawing the mare against him with tender scratches. “Do I need to give you more attention?”

A low growl rumbles in the back of Rainbow’s throat. She smiles to herself before looking up at Doug, resting her head against his thigh. “You foaling me?” She nudges him, but not hard enough to move him. “I can always use more attention.”

“Yeah,” Doug returns glumly. He sighs, settling back and staring at the ceiling, gritting his teeth against the sharp pricks of pain on his shoulder. “I know you can. You and everypony else.”

“Hey.” Rainbow Dash nudges him again, her pressing harder, more needful. He looks down, a little surprised at her openness with somecreature not in the herd around. She smiles wide, unconcerned, especially with how her head rests on his thigh. “That just means we have to make the time we have count for more, right?”

“That’s right,” Doug says, playing with her ears while gripping her head against his side.

After a long and relaxing communal soak in the tub, punctuated by fleeting thoughts of relief followed by sheer panic as the latest knock at the door turns out to once again not be Doug, the ponies march down the hallway to the auditorium. Their coats and manes shine with a bright luster, a sharp contrast to the nervous glances reflecting off gleaming regalia.

Applejack, her freshly polished Stenson leading the charge, pushes open the double doors of the main entrance. Her frown deepens as she scans inside.

Merely empty seats, no sign of their stallion.

“He ain’t here,” she calls to the rest of the ponies following her. They trade worried looks, the situation made all the more disconcerting because the Storm King never followed up on his negotiation, either.

“I’m sure everything is just fine,” Twilight calmly states as she brushes past Applejack, trotting to their front and center seats. She ignores the groans with a seasoned flick of her ears, though an unexpected voice and the rustle of paper stops her in her tracks.

“No… no… that won’t work…”

There, armored back against the wall, loose parchment scattered around him, sits the Storm King. Yet instead of being wreathed in terrible glory he seems consumed by confusion as he puzzles out some perplexing predicament. He scratches out a line before scratching at his head, barely sparing even a glance at the ponies streaming inside.

Twilight’s ears swivel before her head turns, her eyes tracing over the musing monarch before resting on the crumpled pages. She frowns as she recognizes the hornwriting on one, trotting over to take a closer look. “Hey!”

Raikou’s eyes flick up to the irate alicorn, his frown quickly suppressed. “Yeah?”

Twilight points a hoof. “You took my notes!”

Raikou returns to studying his paper. “So?”

“Well,” Twilight says, scowling as she smooths out the closest of the papers. “What if I wrote something private?”

The Storm King’s head snaps back, startled. “You would write something that isn’t meant to be read?” His face scrunches up,

“You have no idea,” Celestia ribs. She winks as Twilight gapes at her. “You would not believe the uproar it caused when she wrote about her first sleepover with Applejack and Rarity, to say nothing of her first night with Doug.”

“Prin-... Your Hi…” Twilight stammers as she tries to pick the right appellation to call out her herdmate. “Celestia!”

“Aww, my little sister best friend forever, all grown up,” Shining Armor says wistfully, flicking an imaginary tear from his eye. “Dam enjoyed it, especially Night Light’s rendition. Or so I heard.”

“Hey!” Twilight sputters, rounding on her brother. “Why would you know that, much less think I wanted to know that?”

“You know, I remember that one,” Raikou says to Celestia, tapping a finger against his chin and looking at the ceiling, ignoring the hyperventilating alicorn simultaneously attempting to hide her shame while maintaining righteous indignation. “His endurance really that good?”

After a moment, the other ponies trading awkward looks, Celestia responds when Twilight doesn’t. “It has only improved with time.” She raises a wing, inviting the younger alicorn to her side. Twilight accepts, tail tucking between her legs. “Come, Twilight. It is an important part of being a mare. There is no shame in fascination and experimentation in such matters.” She smiles, nuzzling the mass of purple mane buried in her chest, one eye regarding Raikou carefully. “After all, I am sure he hopes that Noon will inherit a bit of that endurance.”

Raikou claps, smirking at Celestia. “A devious trap, there, for all it is sugar-coated.” Off to the side, Pinkie Pie rubs her belly and grins, pulling out a cupcake and devouring it. “Will there come a time when you no longer test me?”

“I am afraid that time may never come,” Celestia says sagely, a slight smirk crossing her muzzle. “For life itself will test the full extent of our abilities, and ultimately find us wanting.”

“Then,” Raikou says, pondering, “you believe us to be defined by our enemies?”

“Our trials and adversaries,” Celestia responds with a nod. “They need not be enemies.”

Raikou grins. “Then I shall strive to be as powerful an adversary as I can be.” He stands, offering a short bow that Celestia returns with a flourish of her wings, ducking low to the ground. “But to answer your previous question? I hope, for her sake, that she is satisfied.”

Celestia offers another nod as she smiles, seemingly satisfied, and trots to her seat.

Luna pulls up to her side with a sour grimace. “Thou art still willing to consign thy filly to him?” He glances back at the studious King, Twilight apparently content to leave her papers with him in a neat stack.

“We shall see how he proceeds,” Celestia returns, only a tinge of acid in her voice. Luna grunts, settling next to her as the rest of the mares take their seats.

Garble is the first of the other delegates to return, carrying a brown sack bigger than he is over one shoulder. He gnaws at a massive brown wing, much bigger than a griffon’s, savoring the burnt-flesh flavor that wafts to the ponies. They sniff once before their pupils shrink, skittering close to each other, while Chrysalis and Spike raise their noses with considerable interest. The two pout as Celestia’s horn flares, a visible bubble pushing away from the ponies and clearing the air.

“Aww,” Spike moans as watches, forlorn at the sight of fried fowl.

“Want some?” Garble calls, hoisting up the sac. “I’ve got more!”

“You know,” Spike says with a glance at Twilight for permission. He puts on his most persuasive face, a mix of knowledgeable and helpful with a hint of puppy-dog eyes. “To remain in health, one must cauterize flesh.”

The alicorn returns the slightest of nods. “You’re your own dragon,” Twilight says with a note of regret. She smiles, fond memories of Spike coming to the surface. “You don’t need me reminding you of Future Spike’s problems. It’ll be up to you.”

“Awesome!” Spike takes wing, flying over to Garble. “What is it?”

“It’s a fledgling roc.” The red dragon rummages around in the sac, ripping off a leg and holding it in the air. He breathes a long gout of flame before anything can drip off, searing the edges to a delectable char. “You ever get the feeling that you just have to go out there and kill something with your bare claws?”

“N-no,” Spike says, staring at the meat in his claws and gulping.

“Oh. Well, give it time.” Garble shrugs nonchalantly. “Free tip; way easier to go after babies than grownups.”

“You would do that?” Rarity asks, askance. She can barely watch as Spike takes a tentative bite, then devours the meat straight off the bone with a predatory grin.

“Of course,” Garble says before he demonstrates how to chew straight through the bone. “Why would we let an infestation like that get worse? Better to nip it in the bud.” He points at Celestia. “Kinda like we’re doing here.”

“Yes, well,” Rarity retorts indignantly. “I’ll think you’ll find this bud considerably harder to nip.”

Garble shrugs, going back to devouring ever-increasing chunks of bird from his sack. As other delegates arrive he shares pieces with them, grudgingly with Gruff and more freely with Ember. Iron Grip takes a piece to be polite, the goats at his side each grabbing a larger scrap. Prince Rutherford gives the sack a single disdainful glance before stomping off to his seat. The minor delegates are in full force; the Abyssinians find themselves attracted to the smell while the ponies of the Realm of Clouds and Sky Beak stay as far away as they can.

Doug enters last, opening the door for Rainbow Dash, Grubber, and Kay Ay. The hippogriff peels off to stand at the Storm King’s side, Sky Beak staring at him through squinting eyes. The ponies breathe sighs of relief, though it turns to a bit of confusion at the sight of Doug’s shoulder. The short hedgehog, palette in claw, takes the opportunity to unceremoniously walk up to each of their flanks and make sure he has his colors right.

“What in the?” Applejack asks for all of them. They stare, open-mouthed, at the colorful sight.

“Pretty awesome, right?” Rainbow Dash claims, beaming without a trace of sarcasm. She holds her flank next to his shoulder; they are the same size, the top of the cloud next to his neck while the lightning bolt arcs down his arm, the tip at his elbow. “I’d say he’s at least twenty percent cooler.”

“Just wait until they’re all there,” Doug says, trying to keep an upbeat attitude with the slack stares the ponies are giving him. He ruffles Applejack’s mane, the closest pony to him, then pauses when she doesn’t really respond. “Did I miss something?”

“Apparently Ah missed somethin’,” Applejack returns, curling her head to keep inspecting the cutie mark on his shoulder. “It ain’t real, is it?”

“Not this time,” Doug says with a cheerful chuckle and glance at Twilight. He moves to Rarity next, rubbing at her back while she takes a closer look. She traces a hoof over the light marks of the rest of their cutie marks spread over his body. “I’d hate for another alicorn to get her wings and horn fixing this.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Twilight says with a roll of her eyes.

“I know,” Doug says, pulling away from Rarity to give Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie a close hug. He winces as he flexes his right arm. The two mares nuzzle him, each finding where their own mark will go. “Raikou thought it would be a sign of camaraderie, something they do in the Storm Realm.”

“We’d never ask ya to do this,” Applejack states carefully.

“I get that.” Doug slips next to Celestia and Luna, Twilight scooching in front. “But it’s a choice I made.” He looks back at the Storm King, still sitting against the wall. “We’re still doing that, right?”

“We haven’t come to a formal agreement,” Twilight confides, her ears flattening. “But, Doug. You’re a Prince of Equestria now. Other ponies are going to see something you did and emulate it. Did you think of that?”

“Um,” Doug says, trailing off. “Not really.” He chuckles to himself, scratching at her mane. She tries to shake him off, not willing to lose a discussion to his fingers instead of his arguments. “I’d like to slink off and go sit in the shadows when all this is over, anyway.”

“Speaking of all this being over,” Rainbow Dash says forebodingly as Alira and Tempest Shadow take the stage. The Saddle Arabian looks over the groups, counting to herself, before heading to the podium. The ponies can’t help but notice how the other creatures have formed a loose ring around them, leaning forward in their seats.

The broken-horned unicorn stands at the front of the stage, clad in full battlegear. Her smirk widens as she watches the ponies crowd around their stallion, a baleful look that leaves little to the imagination. She clears her throat, silencing the auditorium.

“Now,” Tempest Shadow begins, her single paces echoing ominously. The clanks of steel against wood make it difficult to breathe, a rattling that sets their hairs on edge. “You have stalled long enough. Will you submit your magic to the Staff?”

“-Uh,” the Storm King calls from the back of the room, bringing all attention to himself as he stands. “Slight problem there, Temp.”

Eyes narrow as sparks fly from the broken horn. She growls, “Where is the Staff of Sacanas?”

The Storm King shrugs. “It broke.”

The entirety of the roc could be ground to dust by Tempest’s teeth. “...It broke.”

“Well. I broke it.” Raikou grins as he saunters to the center stage. “Also, we’re allied with the Equestrians now.”

“What?” Tempest Shadow bellows as shouts erupt from the other creatures, turning the auditorium into a deafening chamber. They all know what this would mean to their invasion plans. “How… how could you betray me like this?!”

“Betray?” Raikou laughs as the shouts die down, shaking his head. “No, no. You’ve got it all wrong.” He strides to the scowling unicorn, ignoring the sparks pouring from her horn. “You know how you wanted me to invade Equestria and trap the four alicorns’ power inside the Staff of Sacanas? And that I could use this power to heal your broken horn?”

“It was her idea?” Twilight Sparkle gasps, her mind blown at the thought of a fellow pony turning against them like that. Her fellow rulers share the sentiment, exchanging unsure glances and whispers.

Tempest Shadow backs up a step as the Storm King advances, towering above her. She casts a furtive glance at the dragons, the yaks, even the griffons. Yet all remain in their seats, staring, unwilling to be the first to charge the alicorns. Yet their defenses lay in shambles, astonished at his accusation.

“It’s okay,” the Storm King reassures, flashing Tempest Shadow a thumbs up. He grins as she walks up to him, hesitantly. “Because I’ve got something better.”

The Storm King stands, towering over Tempest Shadow, one long arm pointing directly at Doug. Or, more likely, the three alicorns surrounding him. He beams, comically, like a Power Ponies villain about to unveil her master plan, except hopefully it will be beneficial for the ponies instead of requiring a long and drawn out fight.

The shouts slowly die down, nocreature willing to be the first to charge the stupefied ponies. Their vitriol lacks the momentum from before the Staff broke, afraid of rousing the alicorns from their recovery and rushing into a hasty shield or worse. But this does not stop them from scowling, pounding fists and talons into each other as they malign their missed opportunity.

Tempest Shadow eyes the four obsidian orbs dangling at the Storm King’s belt, carelessly left under his raised arm. She can see the scenario playing out in her mind: how she might go in for the hug, or whatever saccharine Equestrian ritual he is playing out for their benefit. Then, with a quick flick and practiced kick, launch those orbs at the cluster of three alicorns and the isolated Cadance. It would be over in an instant, their vaunted powers useless against the electrifying countermagic of the orb, thus leaving the Equestrian leadership cut off at the head. Then it would be a simple matter of coordinating the occupying forces as the Realm of Clouds and whatever ponies they conscript from Equestria take over the sun and moon.

It was the plan she should have gone with from the start, rather than trust the rapacious Council or her capricious liege. Never again. She thought the alicorns would acquiesce, relinquish their powers to keep their ponies safe. Yet now, with the Staff shattered, for all that would accomplish the goals of their original plan, it would still leave her bereft of horn, and the Equestrians no better.

“I…” she forces out, her mouth as dry as the desert outside. She musters a wry smile at Celestia. The ancient alicorn returns a calculating gaze, seeming to peer into the depths of her soul, less affected by the revelation than her fellow rulers. She discards her assault plan as she steps to the edge of the stage, standing imperiously and demanding, “Can you fix it?”

Celestia’s raised eyebrow rivals Applejack’s in sheer incredulity. “You really expect me to repair the instrument of our entrapment?”

“No, no, no!” Raikou blusters, chuckling as he leaps forward and shoves Tempest back a foot. He pauses, cocking his head at Celestia. “Wait, could you?”

Celestia glances at the other creatures. They watch with bated breath as if wondering whether she might be persuaded, through some fashion, of returning to their earlier gambit. “I could,” she replies slowly, a wing stretching out to rub at her belly. “But I’m afraid it would be at least ten months before I made the attempt. I would hate to strain myself.”

“You mean you’re not all powerful?” Raikou waves his hand as Celestia opens her mouth. “But, seriously. I’ve been thinking.” He turns to Tempest Shadow, grinning. “Dangerous, I know. But you wanted the power of the four alicorns to repair your horn.” He stretches his arm out again, beaming even wider. “Well, here they are! Allied and willing to help! How’s that for your, what’cha call’ems, tenets?”

Rarity snorts. “When we speak of Generosity, ‘volunteering’ somepony else’s services doesn’t qualify.”

The Storm King’s face falls. He glances between Rarity and Celestia, his hands scrunching into balls as one eye twitches. “You’re better than this,” he mutters to himself, his voice low but no less berating.

“Um,” Fluttershy says with a small, almost hopeful smile. “At least he’s trying?”

“You realize,” Tempest Shadow snarls at the Storm King, “that I come from Equestria?” Her venomous glare aims directly at Celestia, the sparks pouring from her horn illuminating her bared teeth. “And if she could have healed a filly and didn’t?” She stamps a hoof against the stage, sending the dying embers back into the air. “I would take his staff as a replacement horn before bowing to you.”

The mental image sickens the other ponies. Celestia merely holds Tempest’s gaze for a second before closing her eyes and lowering her head. “When I heard about your injury,” she starts, voice shaking, “I saw a young filly, surrounded by her friends. Maimed, yes, but unwilling to let trauma define her.”

“You saw my situation,” Tempest Shadow spits out, “and did nothing?!”

“Yes.” Celestia takes a deep, mournful breath. She can hardly miss Tempest’s scowl. “Your injury… it was miraculous you survived at all, with your magical core mangled from the astral ursa’s blow. Others have died from an otherwise glancing blow despite our best efforts, unable to heal the rift before expiring from loss of magic.”

“Wait, seriously?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, reevaluating how costly her efforts to save Trixie could have been and deciding the unicorn owes her big time.

Celestia nods to Rainbow Dash. “Our knowledge and ability to treat these injuries has improved over time, but is still lacking.” She turns back to Tempest Shadow. “But with the scarring of your core?” Celestia shakes her head, a heavy sigh escaping her muzzle. “It was not a clean blow, a careful slice intended to be sutured together, but grievous lacerations. I may have done more, but it would have risked your life. My best estimates put the chance of survival at twenty percent, and the odds of having your magic restored even less. Your parents and I ultimately decided against it.” She glances at Tempest Shadow. “It must hurt when the sparks come out.”

Tempest Shadow grits her teeth. “Every time.”

“And look at what you’ve managed to accomplish!” Twilight stands, indicating the irate unicorn. She beams, hoping to brighten the broken-horned unicorn’s contentance. “Despite losing your horn, you’ve done so much!”

“And how many didn’t?” Tempest roars, frightening the ponies with her ardor. “How many ponies’ lives have been ruined, losing their friends because they couldn’t connect, or were cast off clouds because they couldn’t fly? You think I’m defined by my trials?” She raps a hoof against her head. “Does that mean I would be less of a pony if I had more of a horn?”

Celestia bows her head, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

“Spare me your platitudes,” Tempest snaps, “about how helping solve our problems makes us weak and unprepared for the next one. I’ve heard it before. You have the power to help, and you refuse. That makes you the monster, and your power should go to somepony who would.”

“I am sorry,” Celestia whispers, “but I am unable to give you what you want.”

Tempest Shadow growls, then catches herself. “Wait. You said ‘I’.” She leaps off the stage, Twilight stepping aside as she heads straight for Celestia, sparks streaming from her horn the entire way. Tempest jabs a hoof into the white alicorn’s chest. “You know of somepony, or somecreature, that does.”

“Please,” Celestia begs, ignoring the blinding glare. “Do not go down that path. There lies only ruin.”

Tempest’s muzzle curls higher, her teeth baring.

“I mean,” Twilight muses off to the side, Tempest’s gaze swinging to her. “To restore a magical wound like that? You’re looking at the height of Greed magic. Plus Loyalty, or maybe Betrayal, to infuse it. Enough to practically animate a dead body.”

Tempest Shadow stands there, staring at nothing, the gears in her head visibly turning.

“You know, like a come to life spell? But those mostly work on objects.” Twilight ponders for a moment, oblivious to the hooves meeting faces around her. “Other ways to go at it? I constructed a magical core with Starlight Glimmer, but that was temporary. Chaos magic might be able to swing it, but unless her fillies get a good enough grasp on it?” She jabs a hoof at Pinkie Pie. “You’re looking at some serious dark magic. And even if we could get it to work, there’s no telling how long it would last, and you’d likely suffer an unrecoverable blowout if you pushed yourself.”

Tempest Shadow regards Celestia for a long moment, her disappointment palpable. “Then nothing will change.” With a few laborious movements she unsnaps her barding, letting the black metal clatter to the floor. She smooths off the matted fur around her cutie mark of twin colorful explosions before she marches off, never looking back.

“No!” Twilight calls. “I-”

The door slams behind the unicorn.

Twilight hangs her head. “I’m sure we could have helped.”

“Any’a y’all,” Applejack says to the others, gaping along with them, “get the feelin’ that we should’a stopped her, and nipped this in the bud?”

“Riveting as the story of her youth is,” Gruff belts out, waving a talon through the air, “this leaves us no safer than before.” He points at the Storm King. “Less so with him at your side. You leave us little choice!”

“We do not wish for you to leave these halls dissatisfied,” Celestia entreats, a confident yet acquiescent bow of her head.

“The way Iron Grip sees it?” the minotaur booms. “You force us to assume this risk! Like… um, a money-back guarantee?” He glances at one of the goats at his side.

The goat bleats once.

“Yes! Insurance!” Iron Grip nods furiously. “We take on the small chance of a devastating disaster. And what do we get in return?”

Garble takes wing, flickers of flame glowing in the back of his mouth. “And don’t talk of better trade deals or paltry tokens! We know what your plans are for Equestria! You think you can grow bigger than dragons?!”

“That isn’t our intention,” Twilight starts apologetically.

Chrysalis steps in before the Princess of Friendship can continue. “You pathetic foals,” she admonishes, her ever-present malevolent smirk directed at Garble and the other creatures. “You squabble for slices, afraid a growing Equestria will crowd you out of your fair share of the pie. But what you imbeciles are incapable of grasping?” She grins her fangy grin, none of the others happy to suffer her words as an ebony hoof raps against the side of her bulging barrel. “The solution is to bake more pies.”

The Chief Architect strides forward to the discarded barding. She kicks one piece at Gruff, another at Garble. “So be content with your scraps, whatever you can glean from our shoes. Or?” She levitates the remaining armor, ripping the bottom apart to accommodate her larger bulk. A flash of magic colors it a gleaming gold as she drapes it over her withers. “You can join the winning side. The growing side. The Equestrian side.”

She returns to a spot halfway between Doug and Shining Armor, standing at Twilight’s side.

“Wow,” the lavender alicorn says with an impressed smile. “I didn’t know Friendship was so strong in you!”

“It comes and goes,” the changeling says nonchalantly. “But the real key?” “She turns and winks at Doug. “Have a plan to seduce anyone you meet. They will take changelings of their own, increasing my power and influence across the land!” She waits a beat. “Oh, and it will spread Friendship as well. Of course.”

“Of course,” Twilight echoes with a roll of her eyes.

“What pony propose?” Prince Rutherford belts out with a stomp of his hoof. “Threat to Yak culture! Yak not stand for threat to Yak culture, because future with no Yak no future at all!”

“Yeah!” Ember sneers, claws at her hips. “You think you can just swoop in and make our lives better just like that?” She snaps her claws. “Dragons don’t need a pony savior!”

“Just some pillows,” Garble adds under his breath.

“Just some pillows!” Ember continues loudly.

“You’re worried,” Doug says diplomatically, standing between Celestia and Luna. “You’re worried about your culture, about whether life will stay the same or grow so unrecognizable you might as well be in another world. It’s daunting, and no one wants to dive straight in.” He quickly adds, seeing a few mouths open to retort, “Not because you’re scared! Every one of you could live and thrive under these conditions, I’m sure. But because you aren’t sure what you would leave behind. There has to be something worthwhile there, or you wouldn’t have survived as long as you have.”

“So, what do you propose?” Ember asks, curious more than anything else.

“Take it slow.” Doug motions to himself, smirking at his nakedness. “I came here exactly as you see me now, except a little less built.” He flexes, then rubs at Celestia’s head with one hand, Luna with the other. “And with a lot less support. But you don’t have to go for the full immersion. What I would do?”

He pauses as if considering.

“I would send a representative.” Doug nods firmly. “They would be students, at first. Their mission would be to learn the ways of Friendship. To figure out how to integrate the Tenets of Harmony-” With each word he walks to the Bearer of that Element, rubbing between their ears with a fond smile. “-Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship, with that of your own culture. Each of them as important as the other. And once they have achieved sufficient mastery of the material? They could return home, taking on students of their own, finding out what works and what doesn’t work for each of you. The end goal, of course, to grow together in Friendship and Harmony.”

Stunned silence meets the end of Doug’s speech.

Alira hesitantly speaks, “Would ponies need this instruction as well?”

“I don’t see why not,” Doug says with a shrug. “We could take students from all over Equestria.” He eyes the ponies from the Realm of Clouds. “And beyond.”

“Speaking of beyond,” Raikou says with an apologetic shake of his head. “I’ve never thought of myself as much of a baker. But I did think of one thing I can contribute.” He waves at his Lieutenant Commander, the armored yellow hippogriff marching from the edge of the auditorium. “And Sky Beak, can you come down?” He grins as the blue hippogriff hesitates. “I promise I won’t bite.”

Sky Beak growls, but approaches. His face scrunches up as he studies the other hippogriff in service to the Storm King.

“Sky Beak,” Raikou says, motioning to the other hippogriff. “This is Lieutenant Commander Kay Ay. But I think you know him as something else.”

Sky Beak stares, the revelation slowly dawning on him. He can barely force the words out, at first not believing it to be true. “King Aponis? You’re alive?”

King Aponis of the Hippogriffs nods with a regal air, his sigh heavy. “It is I, Sky Beak. In fin and feather.” He grimaces at the lines etched in his kin’s face. “The waves have not been kind to you.”

“They have not been kind to any of us,” Sky Beak admits, turning his head as he fingers at the shard hidden under his wing. “Except, perhaps, for Ocean Flow.”

King Aponis chuckles. “I suppose your wife has always taken to the seas. And… has mine?”

“Queen Novo never recovered,” Sky Beak admits with great reluctance. He glares at the Storm King. “She dreads returning to the surface, for good reason.”

“Aww, why the dry face?” Raikou grins wide, clapping both hippogriffs on the back. “This is a cause for celebration!”

“Party time!” Pinkie Pie shouts, an explosion of confetti coming from nowhere. “Woo!”

“Because I also got you this.” The Storm King holds out a scroll.

Sky Beak takes it, holding it away from him like a rotten fish. “What is this?”

“It’s a treaty! Or nonaggression pact.” Raikou shrugs. “However close you want to be.”

“We would be a protectorate of the Storm Realm,” Sky Beak spits out as he starts reading.

“Yeah, but that’s the same status we’d give Equestria.” Raikou winks at Celestia, who returns a stone-faced glare. “Basically, I’ll stay out of your waves. You guys retain full sovereignty, do whatever you want as long as it’s not against any other member state. There’s a two percent tax, same as everywhere else.” Raikou taps at the scroll as Sky Beak unravels it to the end. “And, to ease the transition back to Mount Aris, I’m offering one warship of your choice. Captained by your very own King Aponis, filled to the brim with whatever supplies you need along with a full complement of crew who will serve for two years.”

The Storm King thrusts a hand forward, grinning. “So, what do you say?”

Sky Beak stares at the treaty in his claws. There, at the bottom, is King Aponis’ signature and the Storm King’s. All it would need is his own. The thought of returning to life above the waves pulls at him, his very core.

“I… I should talk to Queen Novo,” Sky Beak states. His arm trembles despite his attempt to keep his composure.

“Sorry, pal,” Raikou says with only a hint of apology. “Limited time offer. You ain’t gonna get a better deal than this.”

Sky Beak’s claws twitch. All they would need to do is pay lip service to the Storm King’s authority and they would be free? He hopes his Queen will concur. He takes the quill from the raspberry aura, twiddling it. “What happens to the warship when the time is done?”

“That? It’s yours.” The Storm King grins like a cat watching a mouse sneak closer. “The crew can train up their replacements, if you don’t want to hire them on. All the supplies paid out of my pocket.” He chuckles. “But you only get the one load free.”

Sky Beak considers for a moment before signing the scroll with a flourish.

“Aww,” Pinkie Pie moans when nothing else happens. “It’s supposed to turn gold and shrink you into a little eel!” She pouts as she returns, thumping her head into Doug’s side.

“How much is that warship worth?” Doug whispers to Celestia, the other ponies drawing close.

“Perhaps five million bits, depending on which ship he chooses,” Celestia answers.

Applejack whistles appreciably. “Whou-whee. How’s that for Generosity?”

“He is purchasing a substantial amount of goodwill,” Rarity responds, also in awe.

Rainbow Dash adds, “And he doesn’t need to pay for the upkeep of what is going to be a glorified cargo ship,”

“Or the crew,” Fluttershy concurs.

“And if this gets him that precious little alicorn baby he wants so badly?” Pinkie Pie grins as she pokes Celestia’s belly before snuggling up next to it. “Who’s a good little hedgehog cuddler? Yes you are! Yes you are!”

“Princess Twilight,” Sky Beak interrupts. He steps forward, regarding Chrysalis thoughtfully. Twilight turns to greet him. “If this is just one example of the effects of Friendship? Then I propose sending my daughter, Silverstream, to be your first student.”

“We will be glad to accept her,” Twilight returns regally, offering a short bow. Sky Beak bows back, trotting off to converse with Aponis.

Garble is the next to approach, Ember at his side. “So, I guess we should send a dragon to learn about this whole…” He gags, coughing out a cloud of black smoke. It dissipates as it gets close to Celestia. “Friendship business.”

“A dragon will be an excellent addition to our school,” Twilight says, beaming. She glances at Ember.

“Oh, no, not me,” Ember says resolutely, shaking her head and her claws.

“Yeah, you’ll be busy in the Crystal Empire,” Garble says with a smirk. He grabs at his leg as Ember kicks him in the shin. “Hey! Watch it, punk!” He turns back to Twilight. “I was gonna send my sis. Smolder.”

Twilight grins, grabbing a piece of parchment and marking the names down. “You think she’ll be a good fit?”

Garble shrugs. “Eh. Better than any of the other dragons I know. But, whatever you do, don’t give her any pillows.”

“...Because she needs to stay tough?” Twilight guesses.

Garble shakes his head. “She hoards them. You know the story about how Dragon Lord Scales came to power?”

“Um,” Twilight says, unsure. She doesn’t recognize the name. She glances at Celestia, getting nothing in return. “No?”

“Oh.” Garble shrugs. “Well, best advice? Don’t show weakness around her. You can be ‘sensitive’,” he makes air quotes while retching. “But not weak.”

“Got it. Thank you for the tip.” Twilight grins as Garble walks off. She turns to Chrysalis. “Think you’ll enroll any changelings?”

“Mm,” Chrysalis considers. “No. My brood is learning Friendship well enough first-hoof.”

“That’s fine,” Twilight says, her grin only dropping a little. “Just wanted to ask.“

Chrysalis grunts as Prince Rutherford and Gruff stomp and fly over, respectively.

“Do you have somecreature picked out?” Twilight asks with a hopeful smile.

“I do,” Gruff snarls, but it might just be his beak. “If you can teach Friendship to the greediest, gauchest, most griffon-est griffon in all of Griffonstone?”

“I’m sure we can!” Twilight adds a quick nod and larger smile. “Who do you have in mind?”

“Gallus,” Gruff spits out, as if the name is enough.

“Ookay,” Twilight says, scratching the name down. She beams at the yak. “Prince Rutherford?” She bows low. “It has been many, many years since Equestria has been host to a yak. I sincerely hope you will give us the honor and privilege of continuing the education of one of your finest.”

“Hmm,” Prince Rutherford rumbles, considering Twilight with a cold, calculating gaze. He snorts, shaking the long braids of his hair. “Yak not see need to take pony tradition. But if Yak tradition stay Yak tradition? Then perhaps pony take Yak tradition!” He nods firmly, the matter decided. “Prince have good candidate. Just learned to braid Yak hair! Young, but not too young. Name Yona.” He nods, then turns around, leaving the Storm King standing there.

“Do…” Twilight says, looking up at the tall creature. “Did you want to learn about Friendship with us?”

“Me?” Raikou laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. Someone needs to make sure everyone behaves down here. How about him? He’s spineless enough, he’ll do whatever you say.”

Twilight follows the long arm. She frowns at the short, simpering hedgehog. “Grubber?”

“You called?” Grubber waddles over, munching on a cupcake.

Twilight’s face scrunches up. “Do you want to learn about Friendship?”

“Long ath you have cupcaketh,” Grubber says with a shrug, swallowing his current one whole.

Twilight’s smile begins twitching. “You guys! I’m going to be a teacher! Of Friendship!”

“Yeah!” Applejack chuckles, shaking her head. “Ain’t that a beaut’?”

“But!” Twilight starts hyperventilating. “I don’t have a building! Or a curriculum! Or teachers!”

“Huh,” Applejack deadpans, tapping a hoof against her chin. “That is a problem.”

“Not it,” Rainbow Dash calls with a smirk.

“Not it,” Rarity adds, joined by Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.

“Not it,” Applejack tries, but it’s too late. “Aww, shucks, y’all. Ah’m gonna be busier than the press on fresh cider day!”

Twilight faints at the thought of not having her Friends at her side, flopping to her floor.

“Gotcha!” Rainbow Dash laughs, dropping down to nuzzle the comatose alicorn.

Raikou strides over to Celestia. She greets him with a flick of her head. “We’re cool, right?” he bluntly asks, raising a fist to her.

“We only require a formal alliance if you do,” Celestia responds, hoof bumping the gray fist.

“Great.” Raikou nods to himself, looking down at the prone alicorn. “She okay?”

“I’m sure everything will be just fine,” Celestia says, eye twinkling.

It would have been poetic to march out of the negotiations, head held high, a listless Twilight carried over Doug’s shoulder like a sack of apples. However, there is still more to discuss: legal issues regarding the laws of Equestria the new trainees would follow, such as what they may or may not stomp, chew, or challenge to duels. The logistics of bringing those trainees to Equestria. What trade deals the other countries would accept before any effects of this training would go into effect.

Rather than sit through any more tedious negotiations he wouldn’t affect Doug hoists Twilight to his shoulder and slinks out. Rarity also excuses herself, a few errands to run before they high-tail it out of Klugetown. It’s certainly tiring, carrying the weighty alicorn up several flights of stairs, though ameliorated by working at the farm and training with Applejack.

Twilight stirs from her stupor as sunlight hits her face, squinting and raising a hoof. It takes her a second to realize what is going on, glancing around and ending up staring at the side of Doug’s face. He notices when she tenses, a slight smirk as he simply adjusts the alicorn and continues plodding along. She settles down, relaxing, content to be carried to her room on the airship, only waving to Lunaris as he stands watch and lighting her horn to open doors.

“You doing okay?” Doug asks as he enters the captain’s room. It’s obvious she wants to go to the desk from the way she waves her wing, yet he flops Twilight onto the bed and sits down next to her. The bed creaks under their weight, a light nudge getting her to roll to her back. She looks down her chest as he slips around her hindlegs, squeezing his thighs against her barrel before he goes to work.

Twilight grins as his fingers glide down her belly, the soothing ministrations flooding the question out of her mind with waves of pleasure. She groans, her muscles clenching before he finds those bundles of tense energy. Both hands dig into her barrel, rubbing down ribs as she writhes against his massage. It feels amazing, especially as he gets to the soft area around her teats. Her breath catches as he pauses.

“I guess that answers that question,” Doug says, partly in awe. He grins, one hand leaving to caress her muzzle as he gazes into her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” He presses into her belly, feeling for that lump hidden deep inside her. “I’m so glad they’re safe.”

“Yeah,” Twilight moans, slumping back to rest against the bed. Her legs flex, spreading wider, readying herself for the hard length she can feel throbbing against her belly. She loves when they can share that special bond, between a stallion and his mare, forging it ever stronger. It strengthens even when it is her stallion and one of her Friends, linking together in Harmony and all working toward a bright and beautiful future, just like the one they’ll be building together with all creatures.

Except all her worries come rushing back: what will she do about the new students, building or overhauling a school to suit their needs, and developing a curriculum for something that Equestria has never attempted before. Her anxiety flares, welling inside her, and she can’t help but try to curl into a defensive ball. Her hooves shield her head against imagined fears, head twisting away from the fears made all too real.

What if she isn’t good enough? What if she fails to properly convey all the nuances of the Tenets of Harmony? Or even the broad picture! Who is she, what qualifies her to be the Princess of Friendship? Divine providence, gifting her a set of wings and a decree from on high? While that might suffice as diktat, how will she convey those lessons she has learned? And has she even learned enough lessons!?

“Shh,” Doug whispers, cupping her cheek and stroking. He applies a bit of pressure, steadily increasing, until Twilight releases her tensed position to gaze into his eyes. Bright and small contrast to wide-eyed and wet containing a fleeting fear that things will not work out. He smiles, pulling her as he leans down to plant a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. “You know why I think everything is going to be just fine?”

“Why?” Twilight asks, an idea in her mind and yet she wants to hear her stallion explain anyway.

Doug hums to himself for a brief second before responding. “Because I believe in you?”

The way he phrases it as a question makes Twilight think he has something more to add. She shakes her head, grinning like she is the chump Trixie is testing a new trick on and she keeps drawing cards that aren’t the card she picked.

“More? Hmm.” Doug scratches at his chin, breaking away to stare at the ceiling. “Because you’re Twilight Sparkle and you’re going to do great?”

“Mm,” Twilight says, shaking her head again.

“That wasn’t enough?” Doug huffs. He looks down, his exasperated expression morphing to a fond smile. “Because, even if this experiment doesn’t go perfectly?” He taps a finger against Twilight’s fluffy chest, nodding confidently. “There isn’t a better pony to take the spot. I know you’ll do an amazing job, even when it feels like you aren’t prepared. You’ll be surrounded by your Friends and family, who can show how true friends know not just how to give Friendship but how to accept it when they need help. You’ll show those other creatures the true value of Friendship, not just in your words but in your actions.”

“Thank you,” Twilight whispers as she pulls her stallion to her lips. She kisses, no longer chaste but long, needful and primal. Her hind legs maneuver to outside his hips, welcoming his length into her moist depths with one smooth motion. She moans as he bottoms out in her, hugging tighter, not letting her prize withdraw so easily.

“Ugh,” Doug groans as her inner walls constrict around him, waves of pleasure pulsing through his body. He inhales deeply, relishing the musk that would soon permeate the room and mark her as his and he as hers once again. He takes another kiss from the stunned mare, withdrawing as her instincts tell her to kiss back.

Obviously not satisfied with missing her mark Twilight tugs him against her, ravishing him with wet and sloppy kisses as she grins. Only once he starts thrusting, forcing his way through her tight tunnel does she relent, loosening her grip and enjoying the steady motions.

“Did I,” Twilight starts before a wave of pleasure threatens to rob her of her senses. She moans, arching her back as her wings spread against the bed beneath. It takes a few blissful seconds, and after recovering she continues, “Look like I needed reassurance?”

“You tell me,” Doug gets out between hard breaths. The warmth, the tight confines, the needful moans emitting from her supple body? They all conspire to make it difficult to hold back, but they are nothing to the future growing inside her. “But if this is what you need? Whatever it is, I’m happy to help.”

Twilight groans at his cheeky grin, and how he speeds up. It leaves her in poor condition to reply, tongue lolling out as she pants. She can feel it building, that rush of blessed blankness. It overcomes her the same time that he clamps down and presses as far as he can inside her and releases. She can feel the pulses inside her, the spurts painting her tunnel with his seed.

“Mm,” Twilight purrs as he withdraws, rolling to ponyloaf. She happily cleans him off with a quick lick, making sure to snag the extra bit leaking out. She smirks as he cuddles next to her, liable to conk out if she lets him. “So. Anything I want, hmm?”

Doug chuckles as he wraps an arm around his mare. “I don’t know if I’ll be the best teacher. What would I even teach, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll need you to do that. You’re busy enough with weather and the fillies. Though, if you don’t mind substituting?” Twilight offers Doug a wide grin, and it grows even wider when he reluctantly nods along. “Perfect! Now I just need to get started planning.” Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Planning!”

“You should talk to Starlight,” Doug mentions, sitting up as Twilight threatens to spiral out of control.

“Really?” Twilight says, perplexed, even as the question keeps her from getting too engrossed into what little she could do on the ride back.

“Yup.” Doug runs a hand along Twilight’s back, smoothing the wings slightly out of position. “She started a school when she founded Our Town, so she knows a bit about the process. EEA accreditation and such.”

“Huh.” Twilight nods along. “I guess. Hey, um.” She nervously scratches at the bed. “Do you think the other mares will mind being teachers?”

“I…” Doug starts, considering with a frown. They are all busy, and more often overwhelmed. He notes as Twilight’s face falls, turning the corners of his mouth up in a manner he hopes is reassuring. “You want me to try to get a feel for them?”

“Please?” Twilight nuzzles Doug as he nods. “Perfect. Now I just need to figure out what we’re going to do for a building, housing, transportation, meals, any sort of special accommodations.” She hops off the bed, going to the desk and writing down anything she can think of. She gasps at one of soon to be many realizations. “Toilets! We need to know what size category Smolder and Yona are!” She glances around the room, but the only sign of her stallion is the closing door. “Doug?”

After a quick hustle Doug stands on the bow of the Lunaris Priestess, watching Rarity approach from the roof of the embassy. She levitates two boxes filled with desert barding. She sets them next to the box of Storm King action figures, nudging them into perfect alignment. Satisfied, she breathes a sigh of relief as her horn winks out, and trots the short distance with a happy grin.

“And here I thought that I would be the one ecstatic to leave,” Rarity quips as she joins her stallion. Their elevated position lets them gaze over the sand-blasted city, every building a towering warren of shops and small apartments.

A regretful huff escapes her lips as she imagines traipsing through those crowded lanes, finding additions and accents to add to her dresses and make each and every one unique. Maybe a dreamcatcher made from the bright feathers of the local fauna, or a band woven with each of their colors, or an ornament carved from a horned skull. She grimaces at that last one. Alas, but it is not meant to be.

Doug snorts as his hand raises, accepting the unicorn to his side with a practiced ease. “And here I thought you’d be the one chomping at the bit.” He rubs behind her ear, drawing an appreciative coo and gentle butt against his side that generally means he is a bit too close for comfort and should stop, or he needs to keep going. Or both. His fingers snake into her mane, careful not to disturb the sublime curls. “I’m sure we could leave you here. Just for a week or two.”

“No no no, no no, no,” Rarity quickly counters, shaking her head just enough to not dislodge his hand and instead enhance the scratching. “Pah-lease. Maybe I could spend a few hours digging for diamonds in the rough. But days?”

“No more trips to the Badlands, then?” Doug laughs to himself as he gazes north, trying to spot the mountains ringing the blasted wastelands through the haze. “Not that I regret the time we spent together. But…” He waves a hand, frowning.

“But we’re just too busy these days,” Rarity commiserates. She sighs as she leans against him. “I’m not complaining. I love my work.” She playfully nudges into him, loving the light grunt he emits. “Is that why you can’t wait to return?” She swoons with melodramatic flair, a hoof at her forehead as she pretends to faint in the heat. “You just want to get back to work!”

“You got me,” Doug quips, rubbing at his marked shoulder. He sighs, slumping forward against the railing, his hand resting against her neck.

Rarity pauses, glancing up with a surprised frown at the glum shift in Doug’s demeanor. “Is that why you got that tattoo?” She smiles, injecting a bit of levity into her voice. “Afraid you’ll forget about us?”

“That’s an option?” Doug smirks as Rarity butts into him again. “Okay, okay. What do you, um, think of it?”

“It’s…” Rarity starts, backing up a step to properly consider the cloud and lightning bolt. “It’s certainly avante-garde. I can’t say I’ve seen its likeness before.” Her smile turns to a bit of a grimace, though she does her best to hide it. “And you intend to take on each of our marks?”

“Something like that.” Doug backs up so his left hand rests on Rarity’s flank. She twists to watch as he presses his wrist into one of the diamonds of her mark. “It was kind of a spur of the moment decision. If you don’t like it...”

A coy smile spreads on her muzzle as he starts off light, then presses harder and harder into the supple muscles. The way his wrist rolls against her, meandering from one diamond from another, is quickly getting her in the mood.

“Oh, darling,” Rarity moans, a hoof touching her chest as she tries to contain her excitement. “I certainly wouldn’t complain about you wearing me. I mean, my mark.” She winks, her tail flicking up to brush against his nose. It gets him to back up a fraction, face scrunching, and bat her tail away before sneezing from the tickling. “But here? You incorrigible rapscallion, you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Doug lightly grips the base of her tail, gently dragging her back until they are again withers-to-shoulder. He sighs, sitting down and resting his head against hers. It’s reassuring, wrapping an arm around her and holding on. “It’s, just, there’s been a lot of changes. I hope I can keep up.” He squeezes her tight with a faint edge of sadness. “How are you holding up?”

“A fashionista such as myself must keep ahead of the herd,” Rarity states, content to lay next to her stallion. If Doug had pressed she would have gladly given of herself, but finds the hazy atmosphere and surrounding buildings to be a bit off-putting, much like a dingy cave or the library’s basement. “Not ours, of course, but in general. And my intuition is telling me that this is going to be the next big thing. Clashing colors, juxtaposed against each other in the same jarring outfit? Hoity Toity might fault me for not including the kitchen sink.”

Rarity narrates the process of creating a whole line of outfits, starting out by sketching a few ideas based on their cutie marks, themes that might have previously encapsulated the entirety of a dress or suit. Then she separates them into sections, taking elements of each and mashing them together. They contrast, often horribly, and it takes a good amount of mixing and matching before she comes to a set of combinations with which she is at least moderately satisfied. Then she pulls out the fabrics she recently acquired, going through the same process.

It’s not that she means to ignore him, but her creative pursuits are much more of a solo art than a group collaboration. Doug finds his attention wandering to the other mares of the herd as they embark in pairs and trios. Each gives him a wide berth, not wishing to interrupt the time the two are spending together, and soon enough the airship takes off.

The two alicorn Sisters exit the Equestrian Embassy, embark onto the bow of the Lunaris Priestess, and stand at the bow flanking Doug and Rarity. They wait, solemnly watching the city below shrink as they lift off. There is a subdued energy about them, a giddiness hid behind a paper facade, that they escaped this ordeal not merely unscathed but with new allies and a renewed sense of purpose.

Their horns light blindingly bright against the sky’s brown haze as they levitate above the barrel-high walls. Halos of gold and cobalt shine around the two, a casual display of power, pure joy radiating from each at the fulfillment of their mark. It can’t be a coincidence that they timed their departure to this moment, interrupting the flow of traffic, the drab dots meandering around below pausing their hurried errands to stare upward. The ponies likewise gaze in wonder, supplicating by bending a knee.

On the southern edge of Klugetown, a dark orchid muzzle peeks out from under a brown hood that covers her broken horn. She scowls as she watches the muted sun complete her journey across the sky, the lambent moon taking her place on the opposite horizon. The only thing missing is watching the sky shift from reds to blues to a dark cobalt intermixed with twinkling gold. She shakes her head, tosses twenty bits to the bored parrot captain and boards the cargo-laden airship without a word.

The two alicorns slowly descend, their duty complete, and land on the deck with gentle thuds.

“I don’t think that will ever get old,” Doug comments, the first to break from their collective awe. He tugs Rarity as close to him as possible, the unicorn glad to snuggle affectionately.

“I am glad to say it never fails to bring me joy,” Celestia says by way of greeting, exchanging a fond nuzzle with her stallion. She grins as Luna dips down to do the same. “And that joy is made all the sweeter by those with whom I share it.”

Luna’s sigh could probably be heard by those walking along the city streets and not just those aboard their first destination, the Storm King’s flagship. “Indeed,” she intones darkly, studiously watching Grubber and a Storm Guard carrying a hard-backed suitcase about the same size as the small hedgehog.

“Thup,” Grubber greets as he deftly saunters across the gangplank laid between the two ships. He doesn’t even look down, yet the slim possibility of falling makes Doug pine for his parachute backpack. “Nithe playth you got here.” His eyes light up as he sees a three-tiered tray of baked goods. A sprint would accurately describe the way he waddles over if you were to compare him to Fluttershy; his stubby legs, bulky body and upright posture combine to limit his top speed to a plodding trot. Once there he eyes each cupcake and confectionary with a harsh eye, squinting and debating which to take.

The Storm Guard gently drops off the suitcase on the Equestrian airship, snapping Celestia a brief salute. She nods curtly. He shuffles backwards, careful not to slip off as he retreats.

“Mm,” Grubber moans as he tests the first one, a pink cupcake loaded with icing and sprinkles. He wanders over to Doug, Celestia, and Luna, taking a huge bite, spewing bits of cake. “Theeth are tho delithuth.” The alicorns glance down disdainfully as he cranes his neck to look up and inspect the rainbow mark, then a bit of a leering gaze at Rarity’s curvaceous flank. “Wanna keep working on that?”

Doug’s mouth purses; he’d rather level with Luna, yet progress on the tattoo needs to get done at some point. He glances at Rarity, one hand digging into her withers, an unvoiced question she understands quite clearly.

“Go,” she whispers, almost regretfully, her words accompanied by a light push from her magic. She smiles softly, an enticing lure that draws Doug in for a final kiss before he stands, fingertips trailing along her back.

“Just sketch the outline before we go.” Doug holds out his left arm against the blue diamonds on that posh flank. It takes visible effort to not sink his fingers in and instead stay steady.

“Wait,” Rarity quibbles with a roll of her eyes and a harsh huff. “You can’t rush perfection. If that’s your plan, I would much rather you take the time to do this right. Especially something so permanent. My dresses take a few iterations to refine, but at least you’re starting with an elegant base.”

Doug chuckles at Rarity’s good-natured wink, ruffling her mane as he leans back. Rarity goes back to sketching her designs as Grubber drags over the suitcase. Inside is a collection of tattooing equipment; he selects black and light blue inks that match Rarity’s cutie mark and goes to work. His forearm hurts less than the shoulder, tolerable if distracting, only interrupted when Pinkie Pie brings more cupcakes.

Celestia doesn’t bother to stifle her yawn, taking a deep inhale through mouth and nostrils, her smile broadening as she detects Twilight’s musk. She smacks her lips a few times before settling down just like the first night on the airship. When Doug’s hand reaches over she leans into him, eyes closing and rumbling a low, appreciative coo.

“Does this sort of nonsense happen very often?” Doug asks with a heavy sigh, sinking into Rarity’s side. Grubber growls, threatening to tie Doug down if he doesn’t stop moving. “I would absolutely despise going through this more than once.”

“Just another Frienday,” Celestia replies, smirking. “A worthwhile, if occasionally harrowing, experience. Sometimes I wish it were not so, that there existed an easier route. Yet if we forced our ways of life on them, like they are foals in need of instruction, they would resent the unfair imposition on their customs. But if they take it upon themselves to improve, invest their time and energy and make any progress their own? What better way to learn than to undergo such an enlightening experience yourself?”

A wry smile crosses Luna’s muzzle. “So they must see their best efforts fail, and the most advantageous way forward depends upon a desire to master the ways of Friendship? Thou art more cunning than we gave credit, Sister.”

“I learned from the best.” A burst of energy infuses Celestia as she nuzzles her Sister, wishing she could have spent the millennium with her at her side instead of imprisoned in the moon above. “I studied all I could recall, running through our encounters, asking myself what you would have done. But I fear I am but a poor imitation of the master.”

Luna snorts, trying to push her Sister away as the white alicorn bows low and grovels. “Stop it! St-a-a-ahh!”

Luna collapses as Celestia grabs hold of her hoof and deftly slips off the ornate shoe. The tender nuzzles to the sensitive frog quickly become too much for the cobalt alicorn to take. She writhes, yet playfully, careful not to buck her Sister in the face, as her controlled expression devolves into unfettered laughter. In a moment she finds herself on her back, her legs automatically spreading and body readying itself as if to accept her stallion, the conclusion of the vast majority of times she has found herself in this compromised position. She can smell her musk, heavy in the air; she is sure her Sister can, too.

Yet Celestia does not exploit Luna’s vulnerable state as she pushes herself between her Sister’s legs, past the slight mounds to rest her head on the middle of the cobalt belly. One ear lays flat, listening to the rapid beats that would be drowned out in anything other than utter silence. Forelegs slip past the thick flanks, wrapping a reverent hug around the belly just starting to swell.

Luna’s legs settle against her as she luxuriates in the pleasant warmth of her Sister. She can’t help but think that it has been too long since they relaxed like this. No stallion to serve as their focus as they compete for his affections. No tall stack of reports to read or long lists of meetings to attend flitting about in the back of their minds. Just the two of them, together, as they should be. Sisters. They have their differences, of course, serious ones at times. And yet...

And yet, she can’t help but recall that it was her actions, her conceit that drove the two of them apart. Her soft nicker breaks the silence, her Sister’s magenta eyes raising in concern. They stare, not demanding, but curiously checking on her well-being. The white muzzle breaks open but the unspoken question dies on her lips.

Instead, Celestia’s head droops lower, her breathing slows, and it doesn’t take long before the only things coming from her are soft snores.

Luna stares upward, her view of the night sky obstructed by the large, ornate balloon. The Princess of the Night is more than capable of replicating where each and every star is placed, yet despite this fact she misses being able to relax and view the stars in all their golden glory. Much like how she knows her Sister loves her, truly and more than anything. With the possible exception of the foal growing inside her.

Soon enough they break out of the haze surrounding Klugetown, zipping across the barren desert. Luna’s head rolls to the side, watching her stallion. His eyes are on her, a faint smile curling on his face at the endearing sight. The butterflies dancing in her stomach slow, chilled by the thought that he thinks their display is for his benefit.

“Is it worth it?” Doug asks, quiet and somber as he notices her shift in demeanor. He leans back into Rarity with a heavy sigh, breaking eye contact and staring up at the ceiling.

“What dost thou mean?” Luna questions, a sharp edge in her voice. She resents his placative tone, how in a few short words he conveys how afraid he is of offending her, like she is a thin-coated foal that must be coddled.

“Being with me.” Doug motions at his chest, though from her angle it could easily have been at his exposed crotch. “Do you wish you had someone else? That, like Cadance, you had chosen a stallion. Somepony better, I don’t know. Like Shining Armor?”

Around the ship the ponies are settling down. At hearing his name Cadance and Shining Armor glance from their spot in the middle, but otherwise stay quiet. Using Doug purely for studding doesn’t sit right with them; they trade soft nuzzles, glad they are able to make manifest their love and not need to hide their affections for each other.

“We wish a great many things,” Luna retorts, her gaze fixing on Doug. “We regret the issue being pressed on us, of following our Sister along an uncharted path at breakneck speed. Thou art not a perfect match for her, and neither art thou one for us.”

“So what would it take?” Doug asks, having to bite back the manifesting anger. “What sort of actions are you looking for, what kind of person would you want your stallion to be?”

“Dost it not occur to thou,” Luna coldly states, “that the very act of asking such questions means that thou art not suited to be my suitor? Dost thou believe we owe thou our adoration? To be a loyal broodmare, fawning every time thou deignst to rub against our cheek?”

Doug frowns. “So I can’t even try to improve? You want to just, what, wait until the perfect stallion comes along?”

“Are we not a Princess of the realm?” Luna glares, holding her head high. “Should we not have our choice among stallions?”

“Sure, you can have your pick of stallions,” Doug starts, his tone more curious than condemning. “Assuming they say yes, of course. But who wouldn’t?”

The joking tone and accompanying grin fails to lighten Luna’s sour expression, her fixed gaze and harsh stare not easing one iota.

Doug’s smile falters as he realizes that a considerable number of stallions might have said yes if Luna asked, but only for Celestia’s sake or from the status gained by consorting with a Princess. And others would have said no because of her past. And she knows this more intimately than anypony else; she has seen their lust-laced dreams, their torrid nightmares, their deepest hopes and darkest fears. She knows how many of those terrors involve her at a primal level. After all, generations have grown up knowing nothing about her except from tales told to frighten foals into compliance, that the ‘big bad Nightmare Moon’ would gobble them up if they didn’t eat their hay.

How true is this for himself? More likely than he would like to admit, that’s for sure. It’s hard for him, even now with them having a foal together, to disentangle Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon and the horrors she inflicted on him. Can he even separate them, given how Celestia flirts with her flame-tinged alter ego any time passion threatens to overrun her senses? It seems an impossible task.

A frown peeks out from his tightly pursed lips as he considers how exactly to phrase his next question. He finally breaks the silence by asking, “But what makes you think that a perfect match exists for you?”

His careful consideration doesn’t stop the lunar alicorn from manifesting afterimages of glowing cobalt daggers as she glares at him. “Explain thyself,” Luna grits out between clenched teeth.

Rarity glances back with a momentary flicker of worry as Doug leans even further into her side, as if he had a chance to escape or hide from Luna’s wrath. She quickly turns away and tries to appear as if she is not prying into the two’s affairs, her insatiable curiosity somewhat appeased by the potential to hear anything juicy straight from the Princess’ mouth. Two of her herdmates, Applejack and Fluttershy, creep closer; their heads are low, ears folded back, attempting to stay silent as they approach to a more suitable location to listen in and intervene if necessary.

Doug collects his thoughts, staring off into the void of night. “There are many things we look for in a partner,” he explains, slow and methodical. He winces as Grubber continues piercing into his left forearm, the black outline of Rarity’s mark gradually taking shape. “So many that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to list them all. And yet you have to, to increase the chance your suitor is compatible. But the more requirements you list the harder it is for your potential stallion to meet all of them, or that they might be incompatible with each other.”

“Then what should we do?” Luna demands. “Should we not look at all, given the impossibility of our search? Or are our standards unreasonably high, that we shall never be satisfied unless we deign to accept thy imperfections?”

“Um,” Doug starts, one eye twitching to a brief squint. He frowns. “You’re partly right. I mean, nopony is perfect, so they’re going to have some area where they fall short. And a big part of life is trying to improve, to be the pony you want to be, but also the pony the other pony wants you to be.”

“We appreciate the sentiment,” Luna starts diplomatically, though her eyes betray a lack of complete sincerity. “And we acknowledge our own imperfections. But we cannot help but wonder as to the fount from which thy concern springs. Art thou truly seeking kinship with ourselves? Or is thy purpose to paper over our perturbations and restore the tenuous harmony we held before?”

“Wow,” Doug says with a sheepish grin, scratching at the back of his head. “You really cut to the heart of the matter, huh?” He meets Luna’s gaze but briefly, glancing to the side as the corners of his smile pull tighter. “I mean, I want to get to know you better. There’s definitely a part of me that wants to remedy whatever conflict comes up. That sees this, um, friction as a blemish that needs correcting, not because I desire a deeper relationship with you but because it makes me look bad. I don’t like that part of me, but it exists, and I think we get to a better place by admitting our faults and utilizing them as incentives than by wishing they didn’t exist.”

Luna carefully considers him as the other ponies around tense. “Thou art remarkably honest,” she says thoughtfully. “We have never met somepony as brazen in their forthrightness, yet simultaneously lacking the impertinence and obdurance of one who disregards the sentiments of others.”

Doug’s scratching hand digs a little deeper into the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says with a subdued chortle. He finds Applejack, a warmth entering his smile. “I’d like to say it has served me well, yet it seems like it just adds to the plates I need to keep spinning.”

“Indeed,” Luna says with narrowed eyes as Applejack blows Doug a kiss. “Though we fear the comparison to a circus routine needing periodic correction, however apt, to reveal the root of our discord.”

Doug glances around, half expecting some explosion or other to herald the draconequus’ arrival. But that would just be predictable, wouldn’t it? He turns back to Luna, her gaze likewise returning to him as if she had the same fear of a chaotic arrival. “I get that. And I don’t like how it sounds, either. Life would certainly be easier if I had less going on: less mares, less foals, less responsibilities. But it wouldn’t be better, especially if I had to cut some of those things out. And how would I know what my limits are unless I push up against them?” He looks around for Rainbow Dash, knowing how she would appreciate the statement, but he can’t find the cerulean pegasus. “And then break through them, becoming more than I thought I could be?”

Luna frowns, even as she finds the sentiment endearing. “We do not wish to be a mere addition to your ‘responsibilities’. And neither do we desire a halfhearted or belabored attempt to claim our devotion. If thou art satisfied with filling our belly with foal, then say it and allow us to search for passion elsewhere. We would still play the part as thou desires, a mare to her stallion, a Princess to her Prince, returning affections and raising our tail when it comes time to bed us.”

“That’s not what I want at all,” Doug asserts, his voice raising. It bothers him that Luna can talk of such a relationship as a possibility and it shows in his dour countenance. “But what you said is true. I don’t want to see you as a trophy, some prize to be won. I don’t want a superficial relationship for appearances’ sake. And I don’t think that’s what you want, either.”

“No,” Luna concedes, turning her head to the side and looking away. “That is not what we wish.”

“Then what do you want?” Doug demands. When Luna doesn’t reply he continues, his tone softening, “Look, I’m sorry I can’t read you perfectly. I don’t know you well enough to predict your every impulse. I understand you feel rushed into this relationship, that you would have preferred somepony who gets you better, who makes you laugh without trying, who isn’t scared for his life every time you narrow your eyes at him.”

The last line gets Luna to look back at him, breath catching in her throat. She would have worried more except for his cheesy grin stretching from ear to ear that would give Pinkie Pie a run for her bits.

“But you’re stuck with me.” Doug thumps his chest with his free hand, nodding superfluously. The exaggerated banality draws a faint smile from Luna. “So we’re going to have to make the best of this. It’s hard to look at something imperfect and know that it could be so much better. But we have to work with what we’ve got. And the only way to mold this clay into something more appealing to your taste is to shape it yourself.”

“Thou proposes that we undertake the ignominious task of refining away your impurities?” Luna smirks, matching Doug’s. “How wilt thou make this up to us?”

A spark of revelation goes off in Doug’s mind. “No,” he states with a bit of force behind his words. Half of his mouth curls upward, besting Luna’s smirk with his own. “I think you need to make this up to me.”

“Oh?” Luna’s horn flares, gently lifting her Sister and setting her off to the side. Celestia fidgets for a moment before going still, her head facing them with closed eyes and a lengthening smile. Luna takes her time marching forward two steps, a growing dread filling the pits of everypony nearby’s belly. She dips down, a hoof reaching to tilt Doug’s head upward so they might stare into each other’s eyes.

Doug gulps, failing to return Luna’s unblinking gaze without flinching.

“We do not think it fair,” Luna states with a twinkle in her eyes that rivals the stars above, “that Chrysalis is the only one of us whom thou hast ridden.”

“Hmm.” Doug pulls away from her gaze to glance at the starry night. “But if you start singing about showing me the world? I’m bailing, parachute or no.”

“If thou dost not care for shining, shimmering splendor,” Luna counters as she bends low, allowing Doug to mount her by swinging a leg over her withers and adjusting himself against her neck. “Then that may be for the best.”

With one graceful motion Luna leaps off the deck of the Lunaris Priestess, tucking her wings in a rapid dive toward the dark desert below. Cool air rushes past, her star-encrusted mane and tail billowing behind as she revels in the moment. Hands clasp against the Lunar insignia on her peytral, pressing the familiar metal into her chest; his legs grip into her sides, head just outside the corner of her eye as he avoids the buffeting mane.

She can feel him tense against her coat as she draws close to the barren land below, yet he has the sense to not caution her or question her prowess. He merely tugs closer, trusting the pony who has been flying longer than he has been alive. Her wings spread, catching the wind and turning their sharp dive to a gliding coast. She has to strain to keep from toppling over, the unfamiliar weight suddenly going from nearly non-existent to pressing against her neck at an unexpected angle.

“Oof,” Doug moans from behind her as she recovers, flapping her wings. “Glad I was ready for that this time.” He loosens his tight grip on her withers, sinking in her coat as one hand raises to nuzzle the corner of her mouth. He surprises her with a kiss to the opposite cheek and a gentle squeeze of his head against hers.

“Mm,” Luna replies, tilting her head to return the kiss. Except he has pulled away, staring at the silver moon that looms large above the dunes that sporadically crest the horizon. Pinpricks of bright light sporadically fill the remainder of the darkened sky, casting everything in an ethereal glow. She can barely make out their airship by the lighter underside, steadily making her way north, and presses harder to keep up.

“It’s hard to understand why ponies stopped loving your night,” Doug comments, full of awe. He gives her neck a gentle squeeze as she snorts. “Yeah, cliched, I know. I bet you have books filled with ballads about their beauty.”

“Thou hast no idea,” Luna quips sardonically. Then she sighs, shaking her head wistfully. “Sadly, the multitudes of amours declined much like the moon sinking beneath the horizon, many would-be admirers shifting their focus to our more visible Sister.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Doug says softly, caressing her side. “And…”

“And?” Luna asks, turning to the side to regard him.

Doug’s mouth purses to a tight grimace. “For whatever role I played in perpetuating any continued distaste for the night.”

Luna scoffs. “Whatever role thou hast played pales to our own, much like the moon against the sun.” She frowns as Doug grumbles, his objection unvoiced. As the silence lengthens she regrets dismissing whatever apology he was attempting, however insignificant it may or may not be. She inquires, “What role did thou play in continuing the repugnance of our night?”

It takes Doug a second to respond. “I modified the weather patterns to better suit ponies’ needs. They wanted more sunny days, so I shifted any rain I could to the night. Now they’re even less inclined to do things during the night, worsening the problem. And even if they did go out, they wouldn’t see your majestic splendor but a roiling mass of black that threatens to ruin their plans.”

“A conundrum indeed,” Luna says. Her heart swells at the compliment to her night, as trite as it might be. “How wilt thou solve it?”

“Honestly?” Doug shrugs to himself. “It’s not a problem I’ve considered. But off the top of my head? I’m going to blame any increase in clouds during the day on an increased demand for rainfall. It may be a shot at the moon, me attempting to avoid blame for something ponies need but don’t want, but Equestria needs to start growing more food to feed all these new mouths.”

A sly smile crosses Luna’s muzzle. “Thou would fit in well with the noble council, for all they spin their oversights into opportunities for themselves.”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Doug says, inwardly grateful for the teasing banter.

“And thou hast already landed a shot in the moon,” Luna continues. Her tail rubs against his back, curling around his waist. “Dost thou wish another attempt?”

“Much as I love ravishing you?” Doug pinches at her mane and runs his hand through the shimmering hair. “I bet you love the attention they shower you with on the Night Court.”

Luna laughs, hard and piercing. “Yes; they art akin to a shower of meteors, initially dazzling to behold with craters in their wake.” She shakes her head even as the wind clears any tears that might surface. “If we could abolish their overindulgences we would do so in a heartbeat. But dost thou really wish us to wax on about injustices they inflict and attempt to elude?”

“You know, it’s not how I initially thought this trip would go,” Doug concedes. “But compared to spouting eloquence about how beautiful the night is, and you are, and how difficult it was to appreciate where I came from because of light pollution? I’d rather hear about your thoughts on how to curtail abuses and avoid introducing new ones.”

“Hmm,” Luna considers, a hoof stroking at her chin as they speed along. It certainly is a difficult problem, but perhaps Doug would serve as a sounding board and, much as she detests the term, lunar advocate against her ideas.

“No, no, no,” Doug argues with Luna as the two approach the airship. His voice is starting to get a bit hoarse. “You can’t just pick a price for wheat and apples and expect producers to respond exactly like you predict. Either you’ll pick too low a number, and you won’t have enough supply, or too high and nopony will pay the price. And even if you do somehow stumble upon the right number? It’d be a nightmare to revise your numbers every time the market changes.”

“But if the market isn’t responding correctly, what recourse do we have?” Luna’s wings beat against the air, taking out her frustrations with harder flaps than strictly necessary. “Should thousands starve because insufficient grain was planted? Or because they cannot afford the rates unscrupulous ponies will charge during such a shortage?”

Along the bow of the airship rests a multicolored pile of ponies. Fluttershy lightly dozes, head against Celestia’s withers with a white wing draping over her back. Applejack lays on the other side of the snoozing alicorn, hat pulled over her ear while she watches Rarity sketch. They glance up as the two approach; Applejack’s mild frown dissipates, only to reassert itself as she hears them argue.

They land, Luna immediately kneeling in what can only be construed as a ‘get off me before I toss you off’ manner, eyes narrowing and a low growl emitting from her throat. Doug hops off, his wind-swept hair reminiscent of a certain cerulean pegasus in how it juts out at all angles. Neither gives an inch, continuing their antagonistic glares at each other.

“If they can’t afford basic necessities?” Doug grimaces, knowing how unpopular the answer would be. “If you aren’t able to provide for yourself, then you have two options. Option one, obtain more. Either do more work, or convince others to provide for you. Option two, starve. Everypony wants to avoid option two, but it’s a fact of life.”

“Have y’all been arguin’ this whole time?” Applejack asks with a note of incredulity. It’s not that she can’t believe Doug would be debating some point or other - he keeps his ideas and opinions to himself, with exceptions like when he and Big Mac experimented with wheat farming - but more so that he would be arguing with a Princess.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Rainbow Dash answers as she lands next to Applejack, having followed in Luna’s wake the entire time. She taps her hooves against each other nervously as Luna turns to glare at her. “You’d think they would have gotten up to something saucy, and I could have joined in, but they just talked about money!”

“Money?” Applejack’s face scrunches up. “We ain’t short on bits, are we? Ah mean, with the Princesses and all in the herd, Ah wouldn’t expect us to ever need worry ‘bout bits again!”

“No, not their money, bits in general. Prices.” Rainbow Dash sticks her tongue out and gags. “Can you think of anything more eggheaded than what the price of eggs should be?”

“Shoot, Ah do more’n’a bit’a thinkin’ ‘bout the price’a apples,” Applejack says with a solemn nod. “Feels like Ah got books with row after row of nothin’ but apples, apples, apples. More’n more ponies are askin’ ‘bout gettin’ new contracts started, or increasin’ what they already got. An’ that’s just the ones Filthy sends me ‘cause the pay is good or he’s doin’ them a favor; Celestia knows how many he gets and turns down ‘cause he knows we can’t hoof the extra work.”

“Well, that’s the whole point of increasing prices,” Doug comments. Celestia stirs as he sits next to her, Fluttershy waking with a wide yawn that seems to unhinge her jaw. “If you can get more bits for something, you’ll do more of it. Increasing demand leads to increasing prices, which leads to a greater supply and a new equilibrium. It’s a self-correcting phenomenon, prices won’t go up to infinity. Now, granted, this doesn’t work as well when there is some disaster that unexpectedly causes a shortage, in which case you will pay nearly anything to stay alive. But at the same time you want to reward those who are able to see ahead and predict the future in the hopes of encouraging others to do the same and prepare for emergencies.”

“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy chimes in. “But, what if, say, somepony reminds Angel Bunny that the treat that he has been waiting for ever so patiently is missing his favorite cherry, and he ignores their stringent apology explaining that they are all out, and they need to venture into the very busy marketplace to buy a cherry but the cherry vendor charges me ten bits for the very last cherry instead of one bit?”

“Somepony?” Doug’s eye twitches at just who that somepony might be. “Um, buy somewhere else? Or, if there aren’t any more cherries for sale because you specialize too much, buy something else?”

“But Angel Bunny won’t accept anything else!” Fluttershy raises a hoof to her forehead, nearly fainting at the thought. “He might refuse to eat until I get it for him, and I wouldn’t want to be the reason he starves!”

Doug sighs. “First off, you spoil that bunny something rotten. But, hey, he saved your life, I get it. I mean, if it’s the actual last one, you’re running into a scarcity problem. In which case the higher price is justified. I mean, you wouldn’t fault Rarity for charging extra for a rush job using up her limited time, would you?”

“I am happy to receive that particular premium,” Rarity admits. “But only if I don’t have to push back any of my other projects or work an exorbitant amount of time above my normal hours. I might waive the extra charge if that were the case. But if I did have to rearrange my schedule? I would absolutely charge extra or let them know I am doing them a favor.”

Luna scowls. “And what is to prevent the earth ponies collectively deciding to keep raising prices? There must be some mechanism to halt such abuses.”

“Hey, we wouldn’t do that,” Applejack objects. She glances at Rainbow Dash. “Besides, the pegasi would just up the price for bringin’ in rain. Or, worse, they’d make it storm all the time and we wouldn’t get nothin’ done.”

“Exactly,” Doug says, nodding along and rewarding Applejack with a scratch behind her ears, even if he has to shove his way under her hat to do so. “Unfair practices like collusion or exorbitant prices are going to be met with retaliation. Or, internally, someearthpony might defect and sell at a lower price, garnering more business for themselves. And if there is some enforcement mechanism against them, then you’re no longer dealing with a free market.” He takes a deep breath, the hand scratching Applejack slowing. “But maybe the price of apples does need to go up. Or cider, or fritters, whatever products you think ponies would still buy at a higher price.”

An unhappy growl rumbles from Applejack and Rainbow Dash. “Ah ain’t sure about that, partner. We’ve been chargin’ the same price for all our goods for, well, at least a dozen years, far as Ah can remember.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash adds, frowning. “If the price of cider was higher? I mean, maybe I’d get more of it, because less ponies would buy it. But that just means less ponies would enjoy it!”

“And if the price needed to be that high?” Luna raises an eyebrow. “If the incoming glut of ponies raises the price of food to astronomical levels, would that not require action?”

Doug shakes his head. “Nothing so drastic as taking command of the economy. If it’s a looming disaster then spreading more information about it and allowing everypony to make the right decision will lead to better outcomes than by trying to figure everything out yourself. Or they’ll innovate, coming up with more efficient or economical ways of doing things.”

“Ah hope you ain’t gonna suggest we start farmin’ wheat instead of apples,” Applejack says with a loud huff. “Just ‘cause it’s more calories per hour worked don’t mean Ah’d want ta do it. And Ah ain’t sure Ah’d enjoy much’a that innovation, either. Ah like things on the farm the way they are, an’ ya can be sure Granny ain’t gonna go for anythin’ either.”

“Sure, and that’s a very relevant consideration.” Doug tugs her close, nestling her head against his chest. “Could you work as many hours farming wheat? Keeping hogs and chickens? You do it now only because the return is very good and you want to be self-sufficient.” He looks pointedly at Luna. “I’d challenge you to figure out how and where one pony would work optimally, much less a whole society.”

“Thou believes that the same pony who would overcharge Fluttershy for a cherry is competent enough to decide the price of that same cherry?” Luna stares back at Doug. “Dost thou wish to reconsider that position?

Doug shakes his head, perhaps with a dash of impertinence. “How do you know that it’s overcharged? Because another pony won’t pay as high a price for it? If a better deal exists elsewhere, well, we don’t have access to all the information in the world, and there is a cost to learning that information, if only an opportunity cost to be doing something else. But more to the point, if Fluttershy is willing to pay, then that’s how much it’s worth, if only to her. If she isn’t willing to pay, then the merchant doesn’t make the sale, and if that happens enough times he goes out of business. Just like it’s on her to tolerate Angel Bunny’s demands, whose reasonableness is decided by whether or not she goes along with them.”

Fluttershy hunkers down, hiding a portion of her face under her mane. “I-I’d probably pay a lot more than ten bits to keep Angel Bunny happy. Just like I’m sure you’d happily do the same for any of us.”

“Of course.” Doug strains to reach over Celestia and runs a soothing hand along Fluttershy’s back. She perks up immediately, flicking her mane away to rub her head against him. “You’re worth far more to me than ten bits. But there has to be some limit, if only the amount of bits I’m able to accumulate in a lifetime.”

“And should somepony charge that many bits for some necessity?” Luna fixes Doug with an inquiring stare. “Thou would go to war to protect our foals from direct assault. Would thou go to war to protect them from an indirect assault, such as on their ability to provide?”

“Well, there have to be some alternatives.” Doug scratches at his chin. “If earth ponies charge too much for food, then plant your own. It might be less efficient hour per hour, which is why specialization and trade make everypony better off, and why tariffs and restricting trade make things worse off.”

A slight grin peeks out from Luna’s stare. “And if thou cannot replace this necessity?”

Doug sighs, glancing over the side of the airship and looking at the barren land below. “I mean, if you can’t replace what it is, like you’re in a desert and somepony owns all the water? And you can’t leave without dying because you don’t have enough water for the journey? I can see revolution being justified if the owner of the water is tyrannizing everypony. But not because she had the foresight to bring enough water for everypony and is merely charging for it.”

“And if the necessity in question is the sun?” Luna glare harshens. “And you believe that she is unfairly using her power and position to benefit herself. What then?”

“Um,” Doug stammers, glancing at Celestia. She doesn’t move. “I, uh…”

Luna’s head tilts to the side. “Thou must believe we were justified in our attempt to overthrow our Sister from her seat at the pinnacle of power. And the other creatures of the Council were justified in their attempted coup as well.”

Doug’s eyes bulge. “Wait, what?”

“Our dear Sister was hoarding the entirety of a precious commodity,” Luna continues, her growing smirk chilling the blood of everypony. “One we found we could not live without. We were denied the attention of those who once adored us. Were we not correct in our actions? The other creatures believed that Celestia would swamp their lands with a deluge of ponies, taking away their autonomy. Were they not correct?”

“Okay,” Doug starts, slowly and with a tone careful to avoid condemnation. “Look, I get it. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. Do you think I like the thought of one of my mares running off with somestallion else? Of course not! Same with Shining Armor and Cadance, or Chrysalis, or you and your Sister. There is some insecurity, some fear of losing that which you hold dear. But sometimes that feeling of insecurity actually does reflect a lack of security. Like the saying ‘it’s not paranoia if someone actually is out to get you’, we don’t have guarantees in life, so we have to do the best we can with what we have.”

His smile at the end fails to lighten Luna’s mood. “Thou art avoiding the question.”

Doug sighs again. “Well, that’s because you’re not going to enjoy the answer. If somepony outcompetes you, then tough luck. Try harder next time, figure out what they are doing better than you, or if you can change and adapt. I don’t think Celestia has abused her awesome power, and I have a hard time faulting somepony for being compensated for their efforts, even if that means they get a share far larger than anypony else. And sometimes the other person really is better, or more suited to the task at hoof, or whatever.” He glances at Applejack. “What happened to the ponies who used to pull trains and got replaced by engines?”

“Um,” Applejack says, the question catching her off guard. “Far as Ah know, they got jobs haulin’ wares to an’ from the trains, then helpin’ load. If it does end up gettin’ real busy at the farm we might need to hire a couple to help out.”

“So we ought to resign ourselves to thy side, having been outcompeted by our Sister at every turn?” Luna sighs, her head dropping as she takes a few humble steps forward. Rather than displace Applejack or Fluttershy she nestles down in front of Celestia, her muzzle next to the white neck with the hopes of slipping under. Her ears flick as Doug’s hand scratches between them. She glances up, his friendly smile getting a hint of hers to return.

“It sounds to me,” Celestia whispers, raising her head enough so Luna can get hers under, “that your opinion of him is rising.”

“Hush,” Luna snaps back, though without vitriol. She smiles as she closes her eyes, her stallion’s soothing motion and the warmth of her Sister’s breath lulling her to a pleasant rest. “We hath been delinquent in our duties for too long this night.”

April 7th, 1001 Domina Solaria

On the other side of the continent, in the rural farming town of Ponyville, in the main sorting barn of Sweet Apple Acres, sits a bleary-eyed colt and a much larger red stallion. Pomarbo rubs a brown hoof against his face, wishing the physical stimulation would wake him up where his rushed breakfast of apples and wheat bread did not. It’s not that he hates mornings like his older sister Applebaum, who sometimes needs a second bucket of water splashed in her face. Or loves them like Hedge, who feeds the rooster before he wakes up. Mornings just… aren’t terribly important.

He tries again to concentrate on the problem Uncle Big Mac posed him. In theory, it’s simple. They have some number of order forms, neatly laid out on the table. Each order needs some number of apples. Some apple trees are ripe while others ain’t. Which trees do you harvest to fill your orders?

In practice? It is anything but simple. And he loves that.

He has a map of the orchards, a giant grid showing all their trees with annotations in pencil or charcoal or whatever happened to be on hoof at the time. Some - well, most - of the notes are out of date, and you just have to remember which ones are still good. They fill the margins, and the spaces in between groups of trees, and absolutely anywhere you could think to write except the table underneath. They tell a story of how every tree is doing and has done: which ones are yielding less from pests, which ones are doing better and whose seeds should be planted elsewhere, which ones should be uprooted and turned into crates.

The map is a closely guarded secret, but only from Twilight Sparkle. Because if she saw it? There is an extremely high probability that she would start Twilighting and do her absolute best to fix a problem that isn’t there. Probably with an excess of color-coded sticky notes and matching filing system. It’s the same reason Daddy doesn’t let her in his weather office any more, which irks her to no end.

“Remember, Po,” Big Mac gently encourages as Pomarbo purses his muzzle and stares at the page. “Sometimes it helps to write down the steps.”

“Ah know,” Pomarbo fumbles out, dragging the order forms closer. His mind keeps wandering, thinking about what happened yesterday, and that made it hard to sleep last night. Most days he could keep all the numbers straight in his head, of how many Red Delicious they needed, how many Granny Smiths. He dutifully totals each up, jotting the number on the back of an old order form. That part isn’t hard, it’s picking a path through the orchards that minimizes travel and doesn’t over- or under- load the cart.

He growls as he studies the map. No quick solutions jump out at him, which means he’ll need to work piecemeal. Or have a lot of excess harvest, which means crating the apples for an extra day or two. And Granny Smith - really Great-Granny Smith, but she looks at you funny if you call her that - strongly dislikes selling anything Sweet Apple Acres that isn’t as premium as it could be.

“Keep at it,” Big Mac says with his friendly, carefree smile. “You can do it.”

“Ah am,” Pomarbo groans, setting down his pencil to rub at his temples. “It’s easier when Daddy’s doin’ his weathercraftin’.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac says, pausing as he taps his chin. “That’s ‘cause your sire ain’t makin’ you do all the work. He’s helpin’ ya when ya get stuck. Unlike me.” He proudly taps a hoof against his yoked chest. “Ah’m makin’ sure it sticks by not helpin’. ‘Cause someday you’ll be the one standin’ where Ah am, and there won’t be nopony to hold your hoof.”

“...Eeyup,” Pomarbo concedes with a sigh. But not just because it’s a grim reminder that someday Big Mac will be as old and frail as Granny Smith, unable to help out as much as he does now. But because the other prime harvesting member of their family is markedly absent. Big Mac returned from Canterlot yesterday - not that he minded that at all. The apples didn’t stop on account’a some tragedy, so neither could the Apples.

“H-hey, Big Mac?” Pomarbo asks, chancing a peek from the map.

“Eeyup?” Big Mac grunts, having started going through his own problem of picking McIntosh and Red Delicious trees for the upcoming cider season.

Pomarbo stares at his uncle with wide, trembling eyes, the corners just starting to wet. “Y-ya don’t think anythin’ bad is gonna happen to Applejack, do ya?”

Big Mac drops down to ponyloaf next to Pomarbo, but the massive earth pony still dwarfs the three-year-old colt. He easily reaches a foreleg all the way around, hugging him tight. “Your dam is strong,” he says, hoof getting lost as he ruffles the green streaks in the colt’s red mane. “She’s so strong, she’s there supportin’ the Princesses. So don’t ya worry, they’ll be back ‘fore ya know it.”

“Eeyup,” Pomarbo echoes with a bit of a moan. He maneuvers his way around the well-worn yoke to rest his head against the thick, muscled barrel. “Ah still miss her.”

“Eeyup. We all do.” Big Mac laughs, ribbing the much smaller pony with a gentle nudge and twinkling smirk. “Hay, she’s probably on her way home right now!”

Pomarbo loves the gentle rumble of his uncle’s chuckle, and even the worried tremble that you couldn’t detect unless you’d heard the stoic stallion laugh before. He snuggles even closer, sniffling despite himself.

“Ah remember,” Big Mac continues with a forlorn twinkle in his eye, staring off into the distance. “There'd be times when Applejack would haf’ta leave on an all-day pie delivery out to the swamps. Ah’d be workin’ the fields, or the orchards, and forget where she was for just a moment. Ah’d be worried stiff, so bad Ah could barely even pull a plow. Even after Ah remembered where she was, and what she was doin’, that didn’t stop me from wishin’ she was at mah side. But she came home, every time, and me worryin’ didn’t make her any safer.”

“Eeyup.” Pomarbo sighs, as deep as a young colt can. He glances outside at the morning sun, just starting to peek out from the horizon and staining the sky with brilliant reds, then up at his uncle. “Do…”

Big Mac glances down at the colt at his side, curious.

Pomarbo gulps nervously. “Do ya ever wish ya had somepony... other than Applejack at your side?”

Big Mac goes silent, suddenly finding the wall considerably more interesting than it has any right to be.

“Sorry,” Pomarbo apologizes, his head bowing. “Ah didn’t mean ta pry.”

“No, it ain’t that,” Big Mac says, again losing his hoof in the mane such a similar color to his coat. He grins mischievously. “Ah imagine you’re just askin’ ‘cause you got somefilly you’re a mite curious about yourself.”

Pomarbo stares blankly at his uncle. “Huh?”

“Ya know,” Big Mac says, thoughts of teasing his nephew dissipating as he registers the baffled expression. “Filthy Rich’s filly. Weren’t ya hangin’ out with her all’a yesterday?”

“Eeyup,” Pomarbo answers, still dumbfounded. “We got the walkways up.” His face suddenly lights up with a bright smile. “We used the pattern Ah drew, too!”

Big Mac can only watch with a bemused expression as Pomarbo leaps from his hooves to grab a spare piece of paper and a drafting pencil. The sketch materializes quickly, a hexagonal room with doors labeled at the center of every wall. Then a second hexagon, inscribed inside the first and running from each door to their adjacent doors, with lines leading from each door to the center.

“Impressive,” Big Mac says as Pomarbo begins filling in details like the distance from each door to the next and the size of the room. His smile doesn’t fade. “And how was it workin’ with Miss Tiara?”

“DT?” Pomarbo ponders for a second, then shrugs. “Was fine, Ah guess. She’s real good at gettin’ ponies to do what she wants.” He shudders. “Scary good. Like, Apple Bloom kept wantin’ to bring in more crates of apples, and Scoots kept buildin’ ramps with ‘em. So she got ‘em decoratin’ the walkways so you could see ‘em when you’re walkin’ down.”

“And?” Big Mac prompts, though he gets nothing in return. “Does she make ya want to keep workin’ with her?”

“Um,” Pomarbo stalls, shrugging again. “Sure? Ah guess Ah would.” He goes back to his sketch, then after a moment remarks, “She smells nice.”

“Heh,” Big Mac chuckles, going back to the map and the rows and rows of apple trees. “S’important.” He taps at the order sheets. “Now, back to work.”

“Eeyup,” Pomarbo answers, again putting his muzzle to the grindstone. After a few seconds’ thought he looks back up with a cheeky grin. “Ya never answered mah question.”

A nervous look comes over Big Mac as he thinks back to what other mares he might like keeping him company on the farm. “Oh, well, um-”

A light knock comes at the door.

“Already!?” exclaims Pomarbo, scrambling away from the table and racing to the door. “Ah knew it!”

Big Mac breathes a heavy sigh of relief, wiping away a bead of sweat.

Pomarbo flings open the door with a wide smile, grinning up at-

A light pink young mare stands in the doorway, her purple mane styled to best display the pure white streak and blue tiara. Her tail is similarly fashioned, though in a wavy ponytail. She has a light sheen across her coat, reflecting the morning light with little sparkles.

“Oh,” he states, disappointed. “You’re not Applejack.”

Diamond Tiara’s confident smile disappears as he goes to shut the door in her face. “Wait!” she calls, sticking her hoof in the way and blocking it. She forces her smile back as he tentatively opens the door back up, revealing Silver Spoon standing next to her.

“Silver Spoon just got back from helping Daddy in Canterlot,” Diamond Tiara explains, motioning to her sister. “And we were wondering if you were busy?”

The silver young mare dips her face to peer over her blue-rimmed glasses at the colt, then gives Diamond Tiara a pointed look.

“Um,” Pomarbo says, glancing back at the table with the day’s routes still waiting to be planned. “Ah’d sure like to, but right now, Ah’m-”

“Eenope,” Big Mac interrupts as he trots over, that mischievous smile of his having returned. “Don’t worry ‘bout finishin’ those up. Y’all just run along, now, an’ have fun. But not too much fun.”

“But Uncle Big Mac,” Pomarbo says with just the slightest hint of a whine. “Ah’ve gotta finish up those routes!”

Big Mac glances between Pomarbo and Diamond Tiara, then at Silver Spoon. He manages to hold in his sigh, vowing to explain to the colt that there are more important things in life than saving them a trip during harvest.

“It’s quite alright, Mister McIntosh,” Diamond Tiara says as she lets herself in. She looks around at the empty crates lining the walls of the barn, waiting to be filled. “We don’t mind waiting. I’ve always been fascinated by what y’all do here. It must take a lot of hard work to harvest so many apples!”

“Really,” Silver Spoon deadpans as she follows Diamond Tiara inside. She stares at her sister when Diamond Tiara turns her head and stretches her smile a little wider. “Always?”

“Oh?” Pomarbo says, shying away slightly. He looks at Big Mac for help, but the stallion has already busied himself with his own work. He catches a glimpse of a wink, gulping as he leads Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon to his table and map. “Ah mean, it does. Ya wanna, um, take a look?”

“Sure!” Diamond Tiara happily exclaims, trotting alongside him. Silver Spoon follows at a distance.

“Well, this is it,” Pomarbo says as he waves a hoof over the map. He motions at the order forms showing what apples they need to harvest that day. “Helps plan what work we’re gonna do.”

“Daddy has something like this, except his is less visual and more of a spreadsheet,” Diamond Tiara explains, her voice rising haughtily like her dam’s before she tamps it back to a more pleasant tone. “N-not that your method doesn’t work for you!” She flutters her eyelashes, then reaches over to tap one of the trees, managing to brush against Pomarbo’s hoof while doing so. “And what is that?”

“A-an apple tree.” Pomarbo leans forward, squinting to make out the small text. He grunts at himself; he should have this memorized! “McIntosh, so if Dam gets back then we’ll get a head start on our cider harvest.”

“I love cider,” Diamond Tiara purrs lasciviously, snuggling a little closer. On the other side, a good body length away and certainly not touching the colt, Silver Spoon rolls her eyes.

“And that’s the route Uncle Big Mac’ll take to get around the orchards,” Pomarbo explains, having finished his explanation and subsequent demonstration of how he figures out the most efficient route. His grin wavers slightly. “Um, Ah normally don’t take so long to figure it out.”

“I thought it was very fast,” Diamond Tiara purrs, dipping down to give the colt a playful nuzzle to the back of his mane. He tenses, glancing back at the intimate intrusion normally reserved for his parents or sisters. “Still,” she compliments without moving from the spot, “it’s impressive that you can do it without a cutie mark!”

“Y-yeah!” Pomarbo straightens up, squaring his shoulders. Even so, he barely comes up to the young mare’s barrel, much less her withers. “Ah have to study a lot. But at least it’s fun!” He grins again. “Hey, you want to see it in action? Normally Ah just help Big Mac with the baskets because, um…”

The colt trails off, rubbing at the back of his head. He chances a peek at Big Mac, who merely returns the look with a steady gaze. Pomarbo sighs, knowing it’s both his secret to spill and also something vitally important, which makes it all the harder to share.

Diamond Tiara waits patiently, her dam’s training helping her keep from blurting out and demanding an explanation. She knows most foals at earth pony farms start helping out at a young age, and Sweet Apple Acres is no exception. Yet, more than once Apple Bloom had complained about the rigors they put her through. The pit in her gut dreads a similar outcome.

A faint clop of hooves outside precedes the barn doors bursting open.

Pomarbo’s expression brightens like the mid-morning sun outside as he identifies the hatted silhouette. He fumbles out a quick, “‘Scuse me,” to Diamond Tiara as he races out from under her and leaps into the waiting orange hooves.

“Hey, ‘Bo!” Applejack exclaims as she adeptly catches the speeding bullet and wraps her colt in a tight, one-legged hug. Her already broad smile stretches even farther across her muzzle, relishing every moment as she nuzzles deeply into his mane.

“You’re home!” Pomabro can hardly keep still, struggling against the leg holding him in place to try to get a better look, as if she might disappear from his sight if he doesn’t keep a constant watch. “See?” He grins as he turns to Big Mac, who approaches with a fond smile of his own. “Ah knew ya’d come home!” He nods confidently. “Ah wasn’t worried at all!”

“Now, Pomarbo,” Applejack says patiently, fixing Pomarbo with a gentle stare. “What have Ah told ya ‘bout stretchin’ the truth?”

“Okay,” Pomarbo says with a long sigh, collapsing back into his dam’s embrace. “Ah was a little worried.” He holds his hooves up, barely as space between them. “But just a little!” He snuggles into her chest, loving the rumble of her chuckle.

Now that they are alone, Silver Spoon corners Diamond Tiara. “I know what you’re doing,” she says in a hushed undertone.

“Who, me?” Diamond Tiara says innocently, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Cut the grass,” Silver Spoon spits out. “You’re only interested in him because his sire is with the Princesses.”

Diamond Tiara gasps at the insinuation. “That’s not true at all!”

“Really?” Silver Spoon deadpans, staring at her sister. “Then why’d you only show interest in him now?”

“Well,” Diamond Tiara hedges haughtily, losing her earlier offended tone and returning to her more calculating self. “Because somepony less scrupulous might move in if it isn’t made clear that he is mine. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you? Besides.” She motions to the map. “Maybe he won’t be as bad as the rest of the colts in our class.”

Silver Spoon growls as she tries to think of an exception. Except she can’t; the only other candidates are ponies with whom she has barely spent any time outside of school. Whose agrarian backgrounds mean they would have little chance with a pony as pedigreed as her or her illustrious sister. She scoffs. “I just don’t want to see him hurt.”

“Good,” Diamond Tiara says with a curt nod. “I don’t either.” She shoots Silver Spoon a sly wink. “But if you’re still worried, then maybe you should hang out with us today.”

“Help harvest?” Silver Spoon pulls back slightly, looking Diamond Tiara up and down. “Who are you and what did you do to my sister?”

“They made those kinds of impersonations illegal,” Diamond Tiara says with a confident nod. “You’d have to tell me if you weren’t actually Silver Spoon, just like I would need to make clear that I’m not Diamond Tiara. But I am.” She swipes a hoof across her face as she breathes out, losing her haughty look and again smiling innocently at the three Apples.

“Sure is good to be back,” Applejack remarks to Big Mac, trading a friendly nuzzle with her brother.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac rumbles.

“Ah’ll tell y’all more ‘bout it once we got the fam’ all together,” Applejack continues. “But ‘Baum was sleepin’ in, an’ Bloom said somethin’ ‘bout meetin’ up with Sweetie Belle before she raced off ta town.” She takes a deep breath, her nostrils crinkling at an unfamiliar smell. She peers around the barn. “Anythin’ happen while Ah was gone?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac says with a mischievous grin. He covertly flicks his mane at the two young mares standing at the work table. Applejack peers over, her eyes narrowing at the sight.

It’s not that it surprises her; the opportunistic Rich family has been on her mind many a time over the years, especially after the stunt Spoiled Rich pulled when the ponies tried to get Doug run out of town. She’s glad they never held anything against her fillies, or anypony in the herd, and their relationship has grown more cordial over the years. Plus, Filthy Rich has always been helpful, especially when he can expand his own business while doing so. It makes her wary, if only slightly.

“Come on, Mama!” Pomarbo says as he pulls away, Applejack reluctantly letting him go. He scampers over to join a beaming Diamond Tiara and an impassive Silver Spoon. “Ah got the day’s trips all planned out!”

Big Mac might have moved, except the orange mare in front of him demands answers with such rapidity he has to double check that there ain’t a ‘kerchief camouflaged against her coat. He answers in low, hushed tones that get the three young ponies to cock their heads curiously, unable to make out the questions.

“‘Bo and Diamond Tiara?”

“Eeyup.”

“My colt and Filthy Rich’s filly?”

“Eeyup.”

“Ain’t he a bit young?”

Big Mac snorts. “Eeyup.”

“An’ he’s got no clue what she’s up to?”

“Eeyup.” Big Mac draws in a little closer, confiding, “Ya might need to explain some things to him.”

Applejack chuckles mirthfully, shaking her head. “Ah’ll pass that along to Doug. Colt to colt.”

Big Mac winks. “Eeyup.”

“Hmm.” Applejack puzzles for a moment. “This happen the day we left?”

“Eeyup.”

“No funny business?”

“Eeyup.”

“Mm.” Applejack peers at the three youngsters. It’s not that she can’t find reasons to object; yes, he doesn’t have his cutie mark yet, but the innocently smiling young mare certainly knows how far she can push their relationship. And if they become friends, like Bloom and the rest of the Crusaders did?

“He seems happy enough.”

“Eeyup.”

“Well, shoot, Ah don’t see the harm in it.” Applejack and Big Mac approach the three young ponies, her ebullient attitude drawing curious looks. She confides, “Ah think this calls for a celebration.”

“You do?” Diamond Tiara says, taken aback at first. She quickly covers herself with a broad smile.

“For what?” Pomarbo asks, befuddled as he looks between Diamond Tiara and Applejack.

“Well, ya know,” Applejack says, taking far more pleasure in the colt’s confusion than she probably should. “The safe return of the Princesses. The papers should be comin’ out with the whole story, ‘bout what happened down in Klugetown, and Ah can tell ya more as we work. But Ah was thinkin’, ya know what would really lift Ponyville’s spirits more than a story in a paper?”

“What?” Diamond Tiara asks eagerly. She thinks she knows, but wants to hear it regardless.

“Ah was thinkin’,” Applejack says, stalling much to the other ponies’ consternation. “What about openin’ up cider season early?”

“Cider?!” Diamond Tiara cheers, tapping a rapid beat against the floor. Silver Spoon can’t help but join in, the delicious beverage a welcome staple at the Rich manor. And it would be fresh!

“Ee-nope,” Big Mac objects, shaking his head.

“What?” Applejack says, alarmed, turning to stare at her brother. “We got the apples planted for it, an’ Ah’m sure everypony would line up to get a taste.”

“Did somepony say cider?” Rainbow Dash asks as she swoops inside the open barn.

“It ain’t made yet,” Big Mac says, ignoring Rainbow Dash as she lands next to Applejack with a pleading look in her eye. “You know we always have trouble makin’ enough on the spot for everypony. This’ll just invite trouble, goin’ before we’re ready.”

“You might run out!?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, gasping as her hooves stretch her mouth wide. “I’d better get to the front of the line before Pinkie Pie gets there!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack shouts at the rainbow contrail left behind the pegasus. She huffs, turning to Big Mac. “You’re right, we’d need to make it as we go. But we can do that, can’t we?”

Big Mac sighs. “Did ya run it by Granny first?”

“No,” Applejack admits, kicking at the floor. “But Ah can’t see her sayin’ no.”

“OH, COME ON!!”

Applejack and Big Mac glance outside at the loud shout. After a moment, a sheepish Rainbow Dash slinks back inside.

“She beat me,” Rainbow Dash mourns, slumping down and softly crying into the floor. “I don’t know how, but she beat me.”

“Good,” Applejack says with a fierce smile, drawing a confused and hurt look from Rainbow Dash. “Because we’ll need ya helpin’ make the cider.”

“Awww. Oh. Oh!” Rainbow Dash leaps up, grinning like nothing happened. “And you always reserve plenty of cider for your helpers!” She nods furiously, as though enough enthusiasm on her part would make up for any uncertainty on Applejack’s.

“That’s right,” Applejack confirms. She turns to Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, and Pomarbo. “We’ll need all the help we can get if we’re gonna pull this off. You in?”

“Sure!” the three chorus.

Applejack smiles. “Well, we’ll need to let everypony know. Think y’all can go through town and spread the word?”

“You got it!”

Applejack chuckles as the three race out of the barn, Pomarbo’s legs spinning wildly as he struggles to keep up. “Dash, go with Big Mac and help get the equipment set up. Ah’m sure you remember where it is and how it goes.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Rainbow Dash exclaims, saluting before zooming out of the barn.

“Ah’ll go confirm with Granny Smith and round up the others.” Applejack pulls off her hat, fanning herself briefly. “Hoo-whee, this little shindig’ll be more fun’n when Twilight’n Trixie joined the herd!” Her face lights up. “Ah wonder if we have enough Zap Apples for pies!”

“Did somepony say pies?” Pinkie Pie asks as she strides into the barn, two dozen empty cider mugs haphazardly balancing on her back.

“Alright, everypony, that’s our first one done!”

With a mighty tap Scootaloo slaps a lid onto the first of many wooden barrels; hay, they might need to start reusing them judging by the cartloads of apples Pinkie Pie and Trixie will be bringing in to Granny Smith, Rarity, and a still-sullen Sweetie Belle.

The energetic pegasus kicks the barrel over and leaps on top, riding the short distance like it’s a rodeo - or Rainbow Dash making her practice agility by rafting down the Ponyville River and doing her best to not get dunked. Her wings buzz for both speed and balance, propelling her up the short ramp and onto the serving table as deftly as if it was her trusty scooter. With one smooth motion she rights the barrel as she flips off, gliding to bring around the next one as soon as the spurting spigot fills it up.

A joyous cheer goes up from the long line of ponies stretching from Sweet Apple Acres practically all the way to Ponyville. Lemon jams in a faucet and turns to Spoiled Rich and Silver Set with a wide grin. The silver mare deposits a short stack of ten bits in their open coffer, enough for their whole herd to each get a mug of their own.

Well, for those who aren’t helping out. Hedge, Pomarbo, Diamond Tiara, and Silver Spoon have the least arduous job of everypony involved: unloading the full baskets from carts laden high with red and green McIntosh apples or their more popular Red Delicious, dumping them out for the sorters, and refilling the carts with the newly emptied baskets. The scion of the Rich family can’t help but grumble at not getting her preferred position of overseeing everypony and making sure everypony’s efforts are balanced, but Pomarbo wanted to work with apples. Starlight Glimmer and Meringue gauge each of them instead, ready to supplement or reshuffle as needed.

Apple Bloom and Applebaum pair up with Applejack and Big Mac, moving baskets around while the older ponies buck ‘em down. Fluttershy and Twilight help on the orchard end by loading up the carts, putting their wings to use while every horn stays unlit. On the other end of the operation Doug and Rainbow Dash power the grinder, jogging a pace on the treadmill that they could keep up for hours. And that’s quickly looking to be how long it will take to make enough cider to give everypony a mug, hardly enough to quench their evident thirst.

At least there’s plenty of distractions for the ponies in line. If watching the Apples perform their labor of love isn’t enough, there’s the growing speculation about why the stallion of the herd has a full-sized Celestial crest tattooed across his glistening torso, or the Lunar symbol on his back. Or what the two diarchs are doing at the stand besides providing security with their mere presence. Trixie pops out from time to time to dazzle those nearby with a few quick sleight-of-hoof tricks, leaving them while she makes another apple-laden trip to argue about how exactly she made the Princess of Moons appear at multiple points in the deck. Or deciding between Pinkie Pie’s fully stocked pie cart and the Filly Guide cookie salesfillies as to which to pair with their cider. Or, to the regret of many a future-pone, why not both?

The line starts shifting as ponies receive their mugs, the trickle of cider turning to a steady flow. More and more ponies depart with stupefied expressions of pure delight, and soon enough the first chest is full of bits and needs to be swapped out.

“Thanks, y’all,” Applejack says to the herd as they take their first break after about an hour. “Ah was real worried ‘bout gettin’ enough cider for everypony, and with your help Ah think we’re gonna get it done!”

“Of course we’re gonna get it done!” Rainbow Dash echoes from her position on the treadmill, still keeping pace with Doug. She grins, casually flipping some of the sweat from her prismatic mane. “We’d never leave ya hanging!”

“Indeed,” Rarity says as she stretches, a large pile of ‘lovely’ apples behind her and awaiting their turn at the grinder. She gives a long, forlorn look to the line of ponies still waiting their turn, many of whom are likely going for seconds. “I only wish I could drum up this sort of business at Carousel on a whim. Ponies sure love their apples!”

“Got that right,” Pinkie Pie agrees, exuberantly bouncing back and forth as if dragging a full cart is no more tiring than her normal activities. “Apple pies, apple fritters, apple cider. It’s like anything your hoof touches turns to gold!”

“-en Delicious,” Fluttershy jokes in a quiet voice, the others chuckling along. They’ve started to run low on their main cider varieties, at least with enough set aside for their other contracts, and branched out to others that they have extra of.

“Inefficiencies detected.”

Meringue’s high-pitched growl deflates some of their enthusiasm, heads turning to the small yellow filly and a clipboard-wielding Starlight Glimmer.

“On our break?” Applejack asks, raising an eyebrow.

Meringue shakes her head, her cream mane shaking back and forth like strands of licorice.

“Insufficient supply. Must construct additional py… presses.”

The ponies look around. It’s true; their backlog is on the pressing wheel, only able to handle a certain number of apples flowing inside, at least without exhausting their runners. It’s also why Rainbow Dash and Doug are still working through their break, the only other still on duty the inexhaustible Lemon. And, technically, the two Princesses, though their duty of ‘guarding’ the cash box while sipping on cider barely qualifies.

“Y-yeah,” Applejack concedes, though hesitantly. She frowns as she looks at their press, then at the vast number of trees still able to be harvested. “Ah guess we could do that.”

“Really?” Rarity questions, the slight cock of her head to the side conveying her disapproval more than her words. “This has been a fun diversion, darling, but would it really be worth the effort?”

“If effort is what you’re worried about,” Twilight Sparkle starts, a certain glint in her eye that Applejack immediately recognizes.

“Nnope,” she cuts in, putting an abrupt stop to whatever plan Twilight is concocting.

“But-” Twilight starts.

“Ee-nope,” Big Mac echoes with a curt shake of his head.

“What if-” Twilight gamely tries again, her growing frustration briefly visible.

“Yer a Tartarus-bound foal if ya think we’d go along with some spur-of-the-moment plan,” Granny Smith spits out, much to Twilight’s consternation. “This is how we Apples have done things, and we ain’t gonna be changin’ that just to get a couple more barrels made a couple minutes sooner.”

“Fine,” Twilight says, stoically holding back her tears. “I’ll…”

Her words catch in her throat, then a sniffle before she regains her composure. “I’ll just keep my ideas to myself.” She turns, taking a few steps before laying ponyloaf, facing away from everypony else.

“Scoots, take over,” Doug commands, hopping off the treadmill. Rainbow Dash yelps as she picks up her pace until the smaller pegasus joins her. “Bloom, you get the barrels.”

“Okay,” Apple Bloom says quietly, her ears folded back. She doesn’t care for how her family told off Twilight, and is glad Doug is walking over to the despondent alicorn. After all, it is their farm, and the others are just exchanging worried glances.

“Hey,” Doug consoles as he sits next to Twilight’s crumpled form. He runs a hand through her mane, prompting her to rest her head against his leg. “You were just trying to help.”

All she trusts herself to do is nod, and chance a peek at Applejack. The orange mare does look remorseful, a quiver to her muzzle she mostly controls.

“What was your idea?” Doug asks, even as he knows Applejack won’t appreciate it. The snort from his lead mare confirms his suspicion.

“If it’s some horn-brained-”

“-Applejack,” Doug cuts in, his stern glare directed squarely at her.

Applejack huffs. “Fine. What brilliant idea did your amazing alicorn brain come up with?”

“Applejack.” Doug doubles down, his harsh tone enough to get her ears to fold back.

“N-no,” Twilight apologizes, pacifying Doug with a hoof against his leg. “She’s right. It wasn’t a fully thought-out plan. It would have been a come-to-life spell on the grinder, or the treadmill. Make it spin on its own.”

“Oh. Yeah, that goes bad real quick.” Doug gulps, giving his lead mare a conciliatory smile. “Like, the wheel breaks loose and rampages through the orchards. Or the town. Or the long, long line of bowling pins on the way to the town.”

Twilight forces a smile as Applejack approaches, the two trading nuzzles to show no hard feelings. “Exactly. I just thought I saw a way to make your job easier, and didn’t fully think it through.”

Applejack sighs. “That’s true, but maybe you’re right. Ah’m real grateful for y’all steppin’ up an’ helpin’ out, but it ain’t somethin’ Ah’d want to make a habit of. Doug’n Big Mac takin’ turns on the press has worked out for us before. We’ll just need ta make sure to have enough barrels made beforehoof, though it’s hard with so many hours before it ain’t fresh cider any more.”

“And ya best not be thinkin’ bout sellin’ cider that ain’t fresh on Fresh Cider Day,” Granny Smith cautions with a decisive shake of her shakin’ hoof. “That’s how we’s done things here at Sweet Apple Acres since Ah was a lil’ filly, and that’s how we’s gonna keep doin’ ‘em!”

“Granny’s right,” Applejack says with a broad, if slightly regretful smile. “Ponies come to Sweet Apple Acres ‘cause we promise quality, and quality takes time. No sense in rushin’ if it ain’t gonna be as good.”

Applejack smiles as the gathered mares stomp their approval, only to cock an ear as an unexpected noise slowly grows louder. At the far end of the line ponies are turning around, watching with piqued curiosity something cresting the hills at somewhere between a fast trot and a slow gallop.

“What in Equestria is that?” she demands from nopony in particular. Rainbow Dash flies up to take a look, abandoning Scootaloo and forcing her filly to leap off the treadmill. Everypony slowly creeps forward to get a better look; Doug stands at the fence, everyfilly of his climbing up to get a better view.

Puffs of smoke periodically burst upward from dual smokestacks at the back end of the bright red vehicle, half a dozen other gizmos and gadgets running to various wooden barrels and oversized glass beakers. The front end has a cowpusher, then a lectern and couch, and a large yellow funnel on one side. And there, sitting in the middle, are a pair of yellow unicorns with bright red manes with white stripes. They snap their blue and white striped vests with aplomb, grinning at everypony watching them drive by.

“Ah should have known,” Applejack spits out as the vehicle comes to a stop, knocking down a section of fence. Doug is barely able to hop back, staring slack-jawed. “Hello, cousin Flim and Flam.”

“Cousin Applejack!” the mustached unicorn exclaims, his twin brother sharing the same suave smile. “Surprise! You’ve got… opportunity!”

Among the gauges and gadgets slapdashed onto the refurbished train engine must be a trombone, xylophone, and a full set of timpani. Either that or the heaves and wheezes of the mechanical marvel perfectly mimic the sort of musical accompaniment that would make Pinkie Pie proud; it beats along with the head bobbing and leg tapping of Flim and Flam as they gear up for some sort of melodic presentation.

The clean-shaven one, presumably Flim based on Applejack’s greeting, bounds over to Lyra, the next Ponyvillian in line, as he bursts into song.

“~Now, lookie what we got here, brother of mine! It’s the same in every town!
Ponies with thirsty throats, dry tongues, and not a drop of cider to be found!~”

Bon Bon, the previous first pony in line, takes a wary look at the frothy mug of cider Lemon just poured her and ever-so-slowly slips it behind her and out of sight of her roommate. Lyra, meanwhile, is subjected to Flim cracking her mouth open, peering inside to confirm that there really is no cider lurking around, and leaving her to pant with her tongue hanging out while he dances to the next pony in line.

“Here ya go!” Lemon calls as she pours another mug, but to no avail; Lyra, like many of the others in line, is completely focused on the salesunicorns as they bandy about. Even Celestia seems swept up in the ferver, if restrained as a Princess should; her head bobs minutely along, a faint smile not quite hidden behind an impassive facade.

“~Maybe they’re not aware that there’s really no need for this teary despair!~”

“~That the key that they need to solve this sad cider shortage you and I will share~!”

“Cider shortage?!” Applejack exclaims as Flam motions to the vehicle with a wide sweep of his leg. “Now hold up, y’all!”

Ponies slowly make their way forward, abandoning their places in line to get a better view of the contraption on display. Even Rainbow Dash hovers above the crowd and slowly draws closer. She wouldn’t want to make Applejack angry, of course, but finds the idea of extra cider - especially an unlimited amount! - quite intriguing.

A murmur slowly grows among the crowd, the whispers of ‘Cider?’ quickly turning toward muted exclamations and barely-curtailed enthusiasm. As it gets louder it morphs into a chant, a metronome of sorts keeping a pace as quick as the brothers’ song. It ebbs and flows with the lyrics; any time the two finish a verse it redoubles, only to fade into the background as they start their assurances anew.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Doug calls, attempting to interrupt the song by leaping over the fence and pointing at the vehicle. “Forget the cider! You drove this?”

His interruption is to no avail; ponies gasp at the thought of giving up promises of cider as the Flim Flam brothers burst into their chorus.

“~You’ve got opportunity
In this very community!
He’s Flim!
He’s Flam!
Travelling salesponies nonpareil!~”

“Nonpa-what?” Pinkie Pie asks, walking up to the other side of the fence from Doug. She looks confused, though by no means the only one their whirlwind presentation is blowing by.

“Unparalleled,” Doug answers absentmindedly, still stunned by the fact that the two unicorns drove here. Flim bandies past him, singing.

“~Nonpareil, and that’s exactly the reason why, you see.
No pony else in this whole place will give you the chance to be where you need to be.
And that’s a new world, with tons of cider!
Fresh squeezed and ready for drinking!~”

“~More cider than you could drink in all your days of thinking!~”

“Wait just a dog-gone second!” Applejack shouts as Flim and Flam dance about on two legs. “There ain’t no cider shortage here! We were takin’ a break an’ lettin’ our grinder get caught up with the rest of us!”

Applejack points at Rainbow Dash, who has the good sense to look skeptical of the Flim Flam Brother’s claims. Or perhaps just their last one about having too much cider. And then at Doug, who has given up trying to interrupt and is inspecting the wheels and axles of the vehicle.

“~A bold claim! Wouldn’t you agree, sister?~”

Flim sings back, sauntering over to the cider stand. He flashes Celestia a winning smile as he passes her; she returns a mirthful yet curtailed nod. The familiarity with which he treats the Princess enhances his image in the eyes of the ponies, more than a few unicorn mares eyeing the split-apple adorned flanks.

“~But any whorse can make a claim, and any pony can do the same!~”

“Excuse me?” Applejack spits out, staring down the unapologetic unicorn.

“We,” Flim starts, less singing and more talking rapidly, “the Flim Flam brothers, hereby do solemnly swear that we can produce as much, if not more, cider with the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000! And we’ll do it without the whole kingdom of Canterlot helping!”

Applejack’s muzzle purses to a thin line. It’s not that they have the whole kingdom helping, either. And the two ponies they have from Canterlot aren’t helping all that much; in fact, she doubts she could have demanded (or possibly even accepted) help from the Princesses. Except Twilight is working, but she still has trouble thinking of the somewhat recently minted alicorn as a princess.

Flim must have detected Applejack’s thoughts from the way she glances at each of the ponies in question, then at the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He launches back into song.

“~I suppose by now you’re wondering about our peculiar mode of transport.~”

“~I say, our mode of locomotion!~”

Applejack groans as Flam joins in, rubbing at her head. “Doug, any help?”

“It’s either ingenious or insane,” Doug says from underneath the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He’s recovered enough to keep some of his wits about him as Flim and Flam keep edging the crowd onward. He explains, “It looks like they sawed off the front half of a train engine and mounted it onto an improvised chassis. Can’t tell you more without opening it up.”

Twilight Sparkle walks up, horn lit and eyes shining a blinding white. “Nothing terribly out of the ordinary. Lightweight thaumic reactor, organic feed with some spare coal, that powers both the drivetrain and kinetic effects. It’s currently on manual power, which means they charge it with their horn to do anything. And then there’s an absolute mess of spells, only about a third of which appear necessary, that trigger when-”

“-A proprietary mess of spells!” Flim interrupts, sidling next to Twilight and wrapping a hoof around her barrel. “That a Princess of the realm surely wouldn’t want to unfairly expose to any number of potential competitors, yes?”

Twilight stops talking, glancing back with a slightly sheepish grin.

“Though I can’t say the curiosity is either unanticipated or unwelcome! In fact, dear Princess, would you prefer a sneak peak, or to see it in action?” Flim motions to a small side window that shows a glimpse of the inner workings: a conveyor belt, with a red and green light as well as a switch.

“A-action?” Twilight says with a cautious glance at Applejack. She can feel the anticipation growing inside her, a pressing need to see this contraption in action nearly as powerful as the otherponies’ lust for cider.

“What do you say, Apples?” Flim goads as he steps in front of Applejack. “Care to step into the modern world and put the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 to the test?”

“Modern world?” Doug interjects before Applejack can respond. The orange pony fumes nonetheless. “You’re telling me that modern Equestria has complex machines like motors?”

“You’ve seen some of the more thaumically-based ones used in hospitals,” Rarity explains cautiously, careful not to draw Applejack’s ire. “X-rays, thaumic resonators, even some communications equipment. Though they tend to be more of a specialist’s gear than something widespread.”

“I’ve rebuilt a reactor like this-” Twilight motions to the back of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, “-as well as constructed a resonator from scratch. But thaumic equipment like this is a Nightmare to maintain. Um.” She glances at Luna, gulping, though the cobalt alicorn’s eyes merely narrow a fraction as she takes a sip of her cider. “If you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Doug’s hands writhe against each other, itching to get a hold of just about anything mechanical. He subconsciously finds Twilight’s head and scratches behind her ears as he continues staring at the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. She finds the gesture pleasant, if a bit distracting; there are spells she needs to study! “I would absolutely love to see that in action, if not do it myself. Then, rather than manually pulling carts of apples, we could be driving a truck?”

“Sweet Apple Acres in particular,” Rarity covers as her lead mare growls, ”and Ponyville in general tend toward more… rustic methods for day-to-day life. The same is true of Equestria as a rule of hoof, though I foresee that changing in the future, if you catch my drift.”

Doug scratches at his chin, hiding his concern. Chrysalis had expressed interest in what he knew about airplanes; what other technological boundaries would she and her brood push? And does he feel comfortable giving up whatever secrets he knows, even if those secrets only consist that a certain concept is possible with a vague idea of how to implement it?

“Ya can’t forget,” Applejack retorts. She keeps most of the vitriol from her voice, but enough seeps through to void a barrel from their quality control. “This here farm’s ‘rustic methods’ are what keep our quality so high.” Behind her, Granny Smith nods along, proud her grandfilly is keeping with the Apple way of doing things. “Just ‘cause some newfangled way saves a few minutes’ time don’t mean it’s somethin’ worth doin’. Or won’t have unintended effects.”

Flim sings back, throwing Applejack a wink.

“~Then with impunity you decline this opportunity and leave the community in shambles?~”

“~That the only drink that they might sink is nettle wine from brambles?~”

Flam gives Applejack a teary-filled, mournful look, which is immediately copied by half the ponies waiting for their chance at imbibing the delicious, fresh-pressed Sweet Apple Acres cider. Even Berry Punch, whose blackberry wine has been a popular alternative, is distraught at the thought of not wetting her throat with the promised cider.

“Well, no, Ah ain’t sayin’ that,” Applejack says, taken aback slightly. She gulps as she scans the multitude of thirsty ponies and the chant that spontaneously springs up from them.

“~Please Flim, please Flam!
Help us out of this jam!
With your Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000!~”

“Young filly,” Flim charmingly implores of Applejack with a courting smile.

She’s taken aback by the appellation; after three foals, with a fourth on the way, she rarely thinks of herself as an eligible filly, a nubile mare who might catch a stallion’s eye. She blushes, smiling demurely, with a strong desire to pull her Stetson off and fan herself.

“I would be ever so honored if you might see fit to let my brother and I borrow some of your delicious, and might I add spellbindingly fragrant apples for our little demonstration here?”

“Uh,” Applejack says to Flim’s request, her tongue still tied. Normally it would be sixteen bits for a bushel of apples of their bumper crops, but price is the last thing on her mind. “Sure, Ah guess.” She turns to find her eldest filly. “Apple Bloom, kindly get our guests two bushels of apples for their test.”

“Um, okay,” Apple Bloom says, moving to Rarity’s ‘lovely’ pile and loading up a basket.

“Excuse me, Miss Apple Bloom,” Flim says with a wide grin as he comes up behind her. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate the fantastic effort that each and every one of you have put into picking out the freshest, most carefully hoof-selected fine ingredients. But for this to be a truly remarkable and demonstrative demonstration of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000’s impressive capabilities, I do believe it would be more appropriate for us to use those apples.”

“You got it,” Apple Bloom says with an enthusiastic nod, scampering over to the cart laden with unsorted baskets of Granny Smith apples. She hauls four next to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, then gathers with everypony else to watch the magic.

“Watch closely, friends!”

Flim and Flam power up their horns, an apple green aura surrounding both the levers and knobs at their control booth. Beeps and whirrs emanate as the machine comes to life. A snake-like tube spills out from the side, the gray funnel aiming directly at the first basket. It vacuums up the apples with startling haste, greedily switching to the next as soon as the first is finished. The initial glut of apples from each basket stretches the pliable material, a bulge traveling down into the main body.

As soon as the last apple disappears down the gray gullet it turns to the nearest pony, and if it had been a bear they would swear it sniffs them, dipping down slightly and then creeping closer as if needing a second whiff. A flick of a switch, though, and it immediately retracts, slipping back into the machine.

“Now, here’s where the magic happens,” Flim explains as the first of the apples comes to the window. The conveyor pauses on each apple, one in ten failing the process and dropping off the side. The apples that pass continue on to parts unknown, but most likely the whirling barrel that spins at speeds the Apple’s treadmill couldn’t hope to match.

“Right here in this heaving, roiling, cider-press-boiling guts of the very machine! Those apples, plucked fresh, are right now as we speak being turned into grade-A, top-notch, five-star, blow-your-horseshoes-off, one-of-a-kind cider!”

The Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 churns through the apples faster than Granny Smith working alone, matching not only the three ponies sorting but also Doug and Rainbow Dash on the grinder and Scootaloo on the barrels. With a satisfying *thud* a barrel drops out the bottom, catapulted with expert precision to land right next to the cider stand.

“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy whimpers, putting voice to the thoughts of many in the Apple herd.

“Honestly?” Doug and Applejack exchange nervous looks. He continues, “I’m more interested in the engine. Like, if we could automate some of the things around here, then-”

“Doug,” Applejack says curtly, cutting him off. “Ah’ve told ya before. Even if Ah sold ten times as many apples, if Ah didn’t get joy from doin’ it? Ah wouldn’t.” She takes a deep breath, the concession biting deep into her. “But, maybe we can start slow. See what works and what doesn’t.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Doug responds with a friendly smile, running his hand through her sweaty mane. She grins at his lack of concern over the sticky mess, pressing against his side as she feels her body quake. They watch as ponies crowd around the barrel, quickly getting riled up as they wait for Flim or somepony to slam a faucet in so they can get a taste.

Granny Smith steps forward, motioning first at Flim’s barrel and then the last remaining of their own, at least until they get the grinder running again. Her voice, harsh and high-pitched, sings out over the clamor of the crowd.

“~Now wait, you fellers, hold it! You went and over-sold it!
I guarantee that what you have there won’t compare!
For the very most important ingredient can’t be added or done expedient!
And it’s quality, friends, Apple Acres’ quality and care!~”

Flim grins as if he has been waiting for this moment the whole time.

“~Well, Granny, I’m glad you brought that up, my dear, I say I’m glad you brought that up.
You see that we are very picky when it comes to cider if you’ll kindly try a cup!~”

Granny Smith gulps as Lemon gingerly loads the barrel onto the table and fills up a cup. She takes it in a shaky hoof, staring at the amber liquid inside.

“Hey, wait a second,” Doug says, Granny Smith grateful for the interruption - at least until he keeps talking. “That’s not how you do a taste test. At least make it a blind test, preferably double blind.”

“A splendid suggestion, if I do say so myself,” Flim says with a chipper nod.

“And we certainly do say so,” Flam adds. “I dare say you won’t be able to taste the difference!”

“Unless,” Flim continues as Granny Smith hesitates. “You’re… chicken?”

“What did you call me, sonny?” Granny Smith growls. “That’s fine! We’ll beat you in any test, any time, any place!”

Doug looks over the crowd of ponies, each eager for even a sip. “Princess Celestia? Would you do the honors? Maybe a shot of each?”

“As you wish,” Princess Celestia replies. Her golden aura shrouds both barrels; two hundred shot glasses materialize out of the smoky haze, each tempered with a light sheen and emblazoned with a letter on the bottom. Amber liquid, nearly indistinguishable, fills each to the brim. Pairs of glasses dutifully float to every nearby pony and wait until they drink one, wash their mouth out with a swish of water Rainbow Dash and a few other pegasi bring down, and try the other.

Every member of the herd gets a taste, the barrel managing to stretch halfway through the crowd. Sounds of satisfied ponies surge, each now even more excited about seeing competition, or preferably cooperation, between the two cider makers.

Doug swishes the shots around in his mouth, testing the flavor. The first, emblazoned with an ’L’, has a sweet aftertaste that he prefers, and comes from the Golden Delicious they last used on the grinder. The second, with a ‘G’, has a bit more bite, characteristic of their tarter Granny Smith. The ones Flim and Flam used. He finds both mouthwatering, but in slightly different ways. And both came out as perfectly as the other.

Pomarbo inches closer and closer to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He stares up at the empty window and motionless conveyor belt, fascinated by the moving mechanisms hidden inside the thin metal plating. He reaches a hoof, stretching higher, as far up as he can go, even standing human-style on his back hooves! Yet he can’t even reach the bottom, much less the window that promises brief glimpses into the inner workings. Maybe he could climb up the spoked wheels, but there aren’t any hoofholds to get to where he needs to be to see what’s inside. His lip quivers as he sits back down, tears threatening to darken his brown coat. He glances at the young mare shadowing him.

Diamond Tiara’s focus stays on the dozens of ponies passionately debating the two cider choices. Their keen palates have come to the same conclusion as Doug, that glasses lettered A,C, E, I, L, N, P, R, S, and T contain sweet cider from the Apples, and any other letters means it is the sharper variety from Flim and Flam.

“Look,” Rainbow Dash states flatly, deferential only because she doesn’t want to insult Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith and ruin her future cider chances. “I’m not saying they did a better job than you. I’d never say that! And I’m not alone in this!” She motions to the dozens of other ponies, led by Scootaloo, nodding along. Twice the number are shaking their heads, or at least ambivalent. “I’m just saying that I like ciders with a little more bite in them.”

Pomarbo looks the other way, at the fence next to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He senses an opportunity to gain a closer look and ever-so-carefully extends a hoof up to the barrel-high rail barely in reach. Methodically, making sure to keep as many limbs on the post as possible, he climbs. Soon enough and he is on the top rail, balancing precariously. There is no smile on his muzzle, just a focused look of determination at reaching his goal. He pulls one foreleg off the rail, wobbling slightly. Yet he is undeterred by a potential fall, stretching as far as he can in the hope of reaching the window and somehow pressing his face against the glass.

Sadly, he remains about two body lengths away from his prize. Maybe he could make it if he jumps, but he’s no pegasus. Or as courageous as the Brave and Glorious Spike. He huffs to himself, resigning to study what he can from his current vantage point. His head slowly drifts forward, drawing ever closer to the point where he might fall off if an errant wing flap blew him the wrong way.

“Careful, you might get sucked in, too,” Twilight jests, having kept her shining white eyes on the exploring colt. She grins; she can recognize the fascination she shares regarding complex contraptions. Especially magical ones, and this one is quite the doozy. She walks next to the fence; the rails that used to be level with her withers are now two inches below. She dips down to offer her back. “Would you like to get closer?”

Pomarbo turns her way with a quizzical look, eyes flicking to her lit horn and then to her wings.

A light gasp from her side draws Twilight’s attention. She glances at Diamond Tiara; the young mare has a hoof covering her muzzle, her eyes wide with surprise, aghast at the idea of a Princess, much less anypony, deigning to allow herself to be ridden.

“S-sorry,” Twilight apologizes, ruffling her wings as a reminder that she is, in fact, a Princess. And with the connotations associated with the act, how she wants to be the next alicorn for Doug to ride, and how few other ponies do the same. “I’m just used to Spike and how he...”

Her expression falters as she stares off to the east. The hustle and bustle surrounding the Flim Flam Brothers seems to fade into the background, her concentration on her lifelong companion. Perhaps if she scryed she could see him, standing at the train platform all by his lonesome. How long would he keep up the stoic facade, if it is indeed an act? It’s certainly a challenge, going off on his own and leading a country. Not quite unlike the ending she imagined happening for herself when she ascended, when she could bring herself to think about the future and her... well, if she’s being completely honest, superfluous role as a Princess in Equestria.

Twilight startles as a familiar, and at the same time foreign, pressure pushes into her back. It isn’t Spike, as much as she might wish that is the case; there aren't the tell-tale pricks of claws into her hide, as ginger as the dragon might try to grip onto her. It’s the rounder, more distributed force of hooves, unsteadily making their way from her dock to her withers, and then two small forelegs that can’t quite wrap all the way around her neck.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her neck and shoulder squeezing back gently as her hoof wipes away the pooling tears.

“Can we get on with the analysis?” Starlight Glimmer demands with a haughty scowl. Her eyes shine white with a similar diagnostic spell. She taps at her belly. “Some of us are a bit drained simultaneously maintaining three more novel thaumic sinks than normally deemed healthy.”

Twilight sighs, chagrinned, at the reminder of her lack of control when she first ascended. She rolls her eyes, ending up focusing on Diamond Tiara. The earth pony has lost her look of distress to one more calculating, her eyes belying the innocent smile on her muzzle.

“I-I can’t believe I’m about to ask this of a Princess,” Diamond Tiara asks with what she believes is an appropriate stammer and look of awe. “But, could I get a closer look, too?” She beams upward, more genuine this time, her tone getting much more formal and affected. “I would ever so much appreciate it!”

“Of course!” Twilight grins, ignoring any thoughts that the young mare might be using their proximity to further her own station. Her horn brightens as she concentrates and lifts a gasping and grateful Diamond Tiara, setting her just behind Pomarbo. “I’m always willing to help others learn, and this is a fascinating example of layering multiple relatively simple spells in order to duplicate the, hmm, somewhat opaque intuitions somepony like Granny Smith has built up over many years.”

“Proprietary simple spells,” Flim adds from just behind Twilight. “Perfectly safe, I might add.”

“No chance of a runaway engine here!” Flam continues.

“I like your method,” Twilight comments with a friendly nod. “You’ve got the main engine powering everything else with belts instead of directly animating the components. The layered scanning spells to duplicate a pony’s intuitions by judging on simple criteria that sum to a single score. This one is calibrated to the Apple’s high demands, but I assume you could modulate that as opposed to a single on/off switch.” She points at a red button next to the window.

“A marvelous recommendation,” Flim states with a telling glance to his partner. “One that I’m sure we will incorporate into our next model!” He cocks his head curiously. “A discerning alicorn such as yourself must be able to see how a deal like this can’t be passed up!”

“Your obfuscation is very good,” Twilight says with a smirk, “but you’ve got nothing on Sombra. Still, I can see how a machine like this could be put to very productive use!”

“Now, hold on to your hats,” Granny Smith spits out as she ambles over. She scowls at the two straw-hatted unicorns. “There ain’t no way that there machine matches up with the care we put in our cider!”

“It, kinda, did,” Rainbow Dash says somewhat sheepishly. She still doesn’t want to offend the Apple matriarch, yet sure wouldn’t mind more cider.

Granny Smith turns to glare at Rainbow Dash, but softens as she sees the ponies behind the pegasus. Many are thirsty, having only gotten a sip during the taste test, and others not even that. She motions to Applejack and Big Mac to gather up, though their group huddle doesn’t stop with the immediate Apple family. The rest of the ponies in the herd make rings with the smallest in the middle and flyers above, their interests piqued.

“If this works?” Scootaloo says before anypony else can comment. “We can make everypony in town happy!”

“Assumin’ we have enough apples,” Apple Bloom adds with a worried smile. “Did ya see how fast it chewed through ‘em?”

“Ah don’t know, y’all,” Applejack counters. She keeps from glancing at Granny Smith; it’s generally been her proposing new ideas and changes to the farm and her grandmare vetoing. Like when she wanted to sell cider to Filthy Rich to then resell. “We’ve always made cider the same way, and that way works. We shouldn’t be compromisin’ on Sweet Apple Acres quality, even if that quality takes time.”

“And ponypower,” Rarity mutters from the back, though loud enough for all to hear.

“Precisely, sister,” Flim compliments as he appears in the inner ring. “That machine right over there will do the harvesting, the sorting, the running, the barreling, and even the stacking! Leaving only the rejuvenating of the trees-”

“-Which, I must add,” Flam says from the other side, nopony quite sure how the two squeezed their way in, “is a very important part of the process-”

“-And the selling of the cider itself.” Flim winks at Applejack. “But, as we all know, this cider is so good it practically sells itself! Why, this machine all by itself is doing the work of five ponies!”

“Ten if you’re having an off-day!”

“An incomparable deal!” Flim grins. “But even an incomparable deal can be sweetened! What do you say, Apples? You supply the apples...”

“...We supply the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000.”

Flim and Flam both speak, “And we split those sweet sweet profits...”

“...Seventy-five…”

“...Twenty-five.”

“Hold on,” Applejack says, her face scrunching up as she considers. Both Granny Smith and Big Mac defer to her. “Who gets the seventy-five?”

Flim gives her his best, most endearing smile. “Why, us, naturally.”

“We’ll even throw in the magic to power the machine for free,” Flam adds.

“We can’t take a deal like that,” Applejack says after a moment’s thought, gulping. It pains her to admit this, but there’s no way they would accept charity from the Princesses or other members of the herd. Much like Rarity in that regard. Flim and Flam don’t care for the answer either, their cheery dispositions souring. “But Sweet Apple Acres relies on cider sales to keep our business afloat through the winter.”

“Are you sure about that?” Diamond Tiara asks from Twilight’s back before Flim can retort. Ponies step aside as she hops off and imperiously trots to the center. “Because I think you should take it.”

“Err,” Applejack hedges, staring down at the young mare. “Ah know Ah ain’t the most gifted math-wise, but Ah don’t see how we can survive on a quarter our normal profit.”

“I can think of two,” Diamond Tiara asserts confidently. Applejack raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “First, did you hear what they said at the start of their song?”

“Um,” Applejack says, glancing at Big Mac for help. He shrugs. “Can’t say Ah remember, distractin’ as they are.”

“They said that ‘it’s the same in every town’. That implies that there are many more towns that would gladly purchase your cider, even at a premium!” Diamond Tiara turns to Granny Smith, offering a respectful nod of her head. “It wouldn’t be fresh cider, and I know how much Sweet Apple Acres values their brand. And it’s an important brand, one we wouldn’t want to be devalued.”

“We?” Granny Smith mutters to herself, both irritated at the impertinence and admiring of her confidence.

“So we market it as something different.” Diamond Tiara turns to Flim and Flam. “Could we use your name?”

“I say, we’d even pay you if you did!” Flim agrees readily. “Perhaps something along the lines of ‘Flim Flam Fields?’”

“Flim Flam Fields’ Fermented Fruit,” Diamond Tiara alliterates.

“Hmm,” Flim considers, rubbing a hoof against his chin. His brother duplicates the motion against his mustache. He tries out a bombastic slogan, “Flim Flam Fields’ Fermented Fruit! Find 5-F in five fantastic flavors! Get F’d anywhere Flim Flam Miracle Curative Tonic is sold!”

“And my sire could supplement our already very favorable distribution contract.” Diamond Tiara nods to Flim, then turns back to Applejack with a grin. The orange mare has a hard time returning her own. “Which would come out of the profits, which leads me to my second point. How much do you charge for apples?”

“Sixteen bits a bushel,” Applejack answers readily. “Makes about three gallons of cider, or twenty-five mugs at two bits apiece.”

“Sixteen?!” Diamond Tiara exclaims, aggrandizing her astonishment by covering her muzzle and gasping. “No, no, you’ve never sold at that low, not in Ponyville. Five apples for two bits is the lowest sale I’ve ever seen. Normally it’s one bit an apple, sometimes two. Which puts a bushel of apples at eighty bits, not sixteen. Which makes me ever so honored you would sell your cider at a loss, in order to support our community.”

“Hey, wait,” Flim Flam cuts in.

Applejack merely stares at Diamond Tiara. Would that be fair and honest to the two brothers, much as she wants to turn their oft-scheming plans on their heads?

Slowly, ponderously, Applejack raises her hoof to her neck. She half expects to hear the *thunk* of steel hitting a golden necklace, but her shoe merely presses into her flesh, almost like she’s about to clear her throat and speak. At least, that’s how Flim takes her motion.

“Cousin Applejack,” the salespony pleads, emphasizing their familial tie. He breaks Applejack’s concentration with wild gestures that threaten to turn into a full-blown dance routine despite being surrounded by ponies. “Surely you wouldn’t do something as egregious as charge us the going rate for apples! After all, we’re family, are we not?”

Applejack lets loose a heavy sigh. “Look,” she starts.

“Because if you refuse our generous offer to be partners-” Flim continues.

“-And that would be at your original price for apples-” Flam adds.

“-Then we’ll just have to be competitors,” Flim finishes. “And drive Sweet Apple Acres out of business!”

Applejack scowls, any thoughts of her element shunted out of her mind like cider through a press. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, no?” Flim asks with a wicked grin. It’s not as malicious as one of Chrysalis’, but throw on a pair of fangs protruding from his muzzle and it’d be close.

“Don’t you worry, everypony!” Flam says to the thirsty ponies. “There’ll be plenty of cider for all of you!” It works wonders riling the others up, many shifting from side to side or tap-dancing on tenterhooks at the promise of more cider, especially as much as they can drink!

“You two are family?” Doug asks in a musing manner, interrupting before things can get any worse.

Applejack nods, short and curt, not taking her eyes off the unicorns.

“You’re not the only one who has the misfortune to be related to these charlatans,” Rarity discloses, just as incensed as Applejack at the thought of ruining the business they’ve built over generations.

“Indeed, sister,” Flim says to Rarity. “One might think that after years of herding you’d have managed to talk some sense into them-”

“-Or opened their eyes to other possibilities-” Flam adds.

“-But we happen to know quite a bit about apples and trees.” Flim sighs, shaking his head with a certain resignation. It does a marvelous job of provoking up Granny Smith, the old mare raising her shakin’ hoof.

“Cousin? Sister?” Doug looks at Applejack and Rarity. He manages to distract the two while Granny Smith and Flim square off. “Does this mean the two of you are related?”

Rarity shakes her head. The change in conversation is doing an excellent job of keeping her temper in check. Likewise, it seems to calm the others down, if only a fraction. “Before we formed a herd? Only by marriage, of which studding is a subsection.”

Pinkie Pie pipes up. “I wonder if any of the rest of us are related? That’d be so cool! Like me and Applejack, because we both grew up on farms; or me and Rarity, because we both like rocks, although that might be more Rarity and Maud, although Limestone and Marble are also really into rocks?” Pinkie Pie sits down, tapping at her chin while staring into the sky.

Rarity shrugs. “We all share some consanguinity, being ponies, but anything past second cousins tends to be disregarded. But to your question, Doug. My sire made no secret of his pursuers, and his… inclinations. I suppose that’s where I got my… preference in a partner.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t help yourself, blame the parents,” Doug says with a chuckling smirk, rubbing Rarity’s mane as she rolls her eyes. He turns to Applejack. “And on the Apple side?”

“Auntie Fiddly Twang,” Applejack says with a long sigh. “Not my direct aunt; Ah’d have to ask Goldie Delicious. Not that we care, we’re all Apples. But we always knew she was a weird one, what with the clothes-wearin’ an’ all.”

“Excuse me,” Rarity decries with more than a twinge of annoyance.

“What? We still love her.” Applejack rubs at her chest self-consciously. “Mostly on account’a her fiddle playin’. Mare sure can whip up a tune at the drop of a hat.” She points a hoof at Flim and Flam. “But these two?”

“You wound us,” Flim states melodramatically, holding a hoof to his chest as if a dagger was protruding out. “And here I thought we were family!”

Applejack scowls. “After what happened at the last reunion?”

“Technically,” Flam clarifies. “We weren’t at the last reunion.”

“The last reunion you two hoodlums were at,” Applejack growls. “You tried to raffle me away!”

“In all fairness,” Flam argues. “We tried to raffle everypony away.”

“And we would have gotten away with it, too,” Flim adds, “if it wasn’t for those meddling foals.”

“Again,” Applejack snorts. “You’re talkin’ ‘bout me.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac booms out in his deep voice, his bulk pressing closer to the two gangly unicorns.

“You’re losing sight of the big picture,” Doug intervenes, feeling like the grown-up towering above a bunch of unruly foals. At least he doesn’t have to physically pry them apart. “You’re family, and you want what’s fair and best for everypony, yes?”

“...Yes,” Applejack agrees, if only after a long pause where the Flim Flam brothers at least attempt to appear contrite. She and the others slowly back away from the Flim and Flam, though their quickly resurfacing smirks don’t help matters.

“So,” Doug says to Applejack. “You’re worried about whether or not the farm can make up the loss in bits. You could do that in volume, selling more cider, or in adjusting the price for bulk sales of apples. Is that also because you wouldn’t be comfortable with somepony reselling your apples or making cider out of them?”

“Daddy resells their apples,” Diamond Tiara cuts in. “So do many stores across Equestria. And restaurants, bakeries, etcetera, all make things from them.”

Applejack ponders for a moment. “You’re sayin’ that if we sold Flim and Flam our apples, they’d go ahead and make cider outta ‘em. And then sell that cider at whatever price they want.”

“Indubitably,” Flim admits readily.

“And if we want to keep the quality up,” Applejack continues, somewhat subdued. “We had best keep this in-house.”

“Well, Applejack, I’m glad you brought that up, my dear,” Flim says, a smile on his muzzle that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But surely you can see that we are very picky when it comes to cider!”

“Perhaps another demonstration is in order?” Flam asks, appearing on the other side of Applejack. “This time of the full extent of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000’s capabilities?”

“Thus allowing you Apples to do what you do best,” Flim continues with a wide motion to the apple trees surrounding them. “Growing delicious, succulent apples just waiting to be turned into delectable cider!”

“Among other things,” Applejack counters. She sighs, the reminder of her passion leaching the vitriol from her like earth pony magic on the fields close to the Everfree. “Ah get joy from growin’ apples, no question ‘bout that. But doin’ all those other things ‘round the farm helps keep it fresh.” She begrudgingly adds, “Just like you two can’t stick to just one gambit, ya gotta keep branchin’ out to new swindles.”

“This is a swindle?!” Doug exclaims, incredulous. “What, you mean like, the magic expires after one use?” He squats down, rubbing his temples. “No, that’d be too obvious. We wouldn’t be hooked. It’d only break down after we’re happy with it, or perhaps reliant on it, especially if we have contracts to meet. Then we’d have to pay through the nose to get it repaired, or overpay for some sort of warranty or replacement plan that ends up costing far more than whatever benefits we might have gained.”

“No, no, no,” Flim reassures as Flam jots down notes. “We built a reliable, high-quality machine to make delicious, high-quality cider! Your own test proves that, does it not?”

Flam adds in a low, quick voice, “Full disclosure of the limitations and constraints of the Flim Flam Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 will be given to certified contract holders of a binding agreement.”

“What was that?” Doug asks, scratching at an ear. “Could I get that in writing?”

“It’s a boilerplate warning put on all industrial equipment,” Twilight explains. “For example, their engine requires a certain amount of thaums to start and then either a continuous connection to a powering unicorn or an external fuel source.” One of her eyes twitch. “Although, most of those are voided by linking other spells, and this one is a doozy-”

“-Of incredibleness!” Flam cuts in, grinning. “Which we will demonstrate to your querying and quaffing delight! Ready, Flam?”

“Ready, Flim!” Flam turns to Applejack, bowing low. “If you would be so kind as to provide the apples, we will be so generous as to provide the use of our machine, the incredible Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, free of charge!”

Applejack nervously glances back and forth, then takes a hesitant step backward. Granny Smith and Big Mac offer no support, their scowls still fixed on the unicorns.

“It’ll be the opportunity of a lifetime,” Flim continues, egging the crowd on. The low drumbeat of ‘Cider! Cider! Cider!’ reasserts itself as he slips between them, motioning to the sky as if Celestia herself is about to descend dragging clouds of cider. “One you’ll tell your foals about for years to come! About how you were there the day that, from that day forward, you never had to worry about having enough cider ever again!”

“What’d’ya say, Applejack?” Flam asks, sidling next to the orange mare.

“Are you going to give up this opportunity?” Flim demands. “For this community?”

“Fine,” Applejack spits out, huffing. “‘Bo, you’ve been lookin’ at the map. Where can we send these fine folks? What’re ya gonna make, a dozen barrels?”

“We were thinking a hundred,” Flim counters nonchalantly.

Applejack gasps, her eyes going wide. They’d be working for days to make that many barrels!

“If not two hundred,” Flam adds, as if they could have promised any number and met that quota without breaking a sweat.

The chant from the nearby ponies continues to grow louder.

“Um,” Pomarbo says, rubbing at his head and trying to remember. He scampers to the opposite end of the road. The trees there, like all the trees lining the road, are heavily laden with apples. “Ah guess we can start here? And work our way to the south fields.”

“That’ll be great for a demonstration,” Diamond Tiara compliments as she follows him, looking up at the apples. Red Delicious, like all the apples on the south field. It gets him to perk up, almost strutting between the apple trees he practically blends into.

The two look up, holding their breath in anticipation, as a green glow surrounds the gold-plated funnel. It hovers over the first tree; a loud, sucking noise accompanies a rush of wind. Leaves, twigs, even whole branches rustle and raise into the air, shuddering back and forth before releasing their burden in a bold affront to gravity. The gray hose barely bulges as the stream of apples flows through, then moves to the next tree in line. A loud series of cheery ‘ding!’s echo among the orchard, every now and again punctuated by a grating ‘errr!’ as the conveyor belt drops a bat-bitten apple. The two large glass beakers quickly fill with delicious-looking cider, and as soon as the level reaches the top they empty into the first barrel.

“Now,” Flim says, admiring his polished hoof as he relaxes next to a slack-jawed Applejack. A barrel sails over them, landing next to Lemon at the cider stand. “About that seventy-five, twenty-five?”

Ponies clamor to be the first to receive a mug, almost at a riot, though a single throat clearing from Princess Celestia gets them to hasten back to their original positions in line.

“Hmm,” Flim says with a smug smirk. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, brother of mine?”

“I do believe that I am,” Flam returns. “Why, who wants to stand around all day waiting for their own mug when we can pick up the pace?”

“All with no drop in quality!” Flim agrees. “Let’s bing bang zam!”

Their horns glow brighter, the rumbling from the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 doubling in volume. The whole contraption rattles as the hose rapidly shifts from one tree to another, vacuuming up every apple in reach.

The Apples can only watch with heavy hearts, their hooves feeling like lead, as their cherished profession seems to slip from their grasp. Would ponies pay a premium for Sweet Apple Acres quality, or even want their cider, after seeing this spectacle?

The loud ‘thunks’ of barrels hitting the ground coincide with the prestissimo of ‘dings’, a lively tune interrupted by a piercing shriek.

At first, nopony really reacts; it seems like just another over-excited filly getting her first sip of fresh cider. But when Diamond Tiara races over, screaming at the top of lungs while pointing at the large bulge traveling along the hose?

“‘Bo?” Applejack utters, confused, her eyes wide. She desperately looks around for her colt, unable to see through the sea of ponies. She bellows, “Pomarbo!”

“Hmm,” Flim muses, unconcerned. “It appears our definition of ‘apple’ was a little too loose.”

Applejack snarls as she spins around to face down Flim and Flam. “Shut it down!”

“Don’t worry, Applejack,” Flam calmly says, leaning back. “He’ll be fine.”

“Celestia help me,” Applejack threatens, only for Flim to brush past her.

Flim taps the window showing where the apples get judged. “Once he gets to this point he’ll be dropped off instead of being sent to the grinder.”

“Um,” Twilight interjects, her eyes shining white as she stares at the window. “Doesn’t that lead to the furnace powering your engine?”

Flim and Flam exchange looks of what might be the only time they’ve ever expressed regret, dashing to the control station and pushing a big red button. The rush of air slows as the two barrels at the end slump to a stop rather than be catapulted.

Yet rather than cease the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 merrily chugs through the remaining apples, the next batch of cider slowly rising in the tanks.