“You’re the ambassador from Saddle Arabia? But you’re not wearing a saddle cloth! My books all said that’s one of Saddle Arabia’s most important cultural traditions. Doesn’t that make you feel… I don’t know… kind of naked? Not wearing one?”
NEW PRINCESS MAKES UNWELCOME ADVANCES TO SADDLE ARABIAN AMBASSADOR
“What do I think about Northern Griffonstan? Well, um, it’s very arid. I read that it has a lot of mineral wealth, too. Aren’t there deposits of copper in the Feathersharp Valley? And gold, I think, in the northern parts. Oh yes, and the canyons of the Cold Snap badlands are supposed to be very beautiful. Maybe I can go see them sometime soon.”
PRINCESS SPARKLE EXPRESSES INTEREST IN COLD SNAP REGION
1488th Regiment of Griffonstan Imperial Army Moved to Counteract Equestrian Territorial Pretensions
“You know, I’m not sure I should be talking to you. It seems like everypony keeps printing my words out of context. I mean, really, how is somepony supposed to get anything done if she can’t even open her mouth withou—”
“DOWN WITH THE PRESS,” DECLARES EQUESTRIA’S NEWEST ROYAL
With a sigh, Rarity set the morning edition of the Canterlot Times-Picayune back on the table and resumed her breakfast. Twilight was in the news again, with a banner headline above the fold proclaiming, “SOFA SALES SLIDE AS PRINCESS SPARKLE QUESTIONS LEGITIMACY OF QUILL-SOFA CONNECTION.” The offending quote was buried on the eighth page – and perfectly innocuous if one knew the mare, of course. Rarity’s fork cut into her last pancake as, for a moment, her mind wandered into the hypothetical.
Now if it were me, I would have simply told the merchant that – elegant and enticing as his couches might be – all such acquisitions for princessly residences have to go through… oh, I don’t know… the “Palace Office of Domestic Procurements”? Yes, I’m sure that would have satisfied him. None of this, “No, I just want a box of fresh quills, and why do all these stores keep trying to sell me furniture anyway?” And perhaps I could have even arranged for a limited trial on a new divan. The red one is getting a little careworn these days, isn’t it? And if it proved satisfactory, why of course then I’d—
A piping voice from the kitchen intruded on her reverie. “’Nother round of apple flapjacks, hot off the griddle! I hope you’re still hungry, ‘cause we’ve got lots of batter left.”
Rarity blinked and looked down at her now-empty plate. Her stomach gave a quiet rumble, though she tried her best to ignore it. “Thank you very much, Apple Bloom, but I simply couldn’t. A lady must not overindulge.”
“Aww,” chimed a different voice. “But I cooked this batch, Rarity. Can’t you at least try them? Please?”
Rarity swiveled on her stool and gave the kitchen an appraising look. It was still surprisingly clean, unlike the three flour-dusted fillies occupying it. Occupying indeed. Sweetie Belle and her friends looked nearly as out of place as a Griffonstan regiment parading through the streets of Camelcutta.
But the pancakes, now those were another matter. Scootaloo had a plate of them balanced on her back, and they looked positively scrumptious. Her sister had made those? Some of Apple Bloom’s skill must have started rubbing off on Sweetie Belle. It was the only reasonable explanation. Of course, that stack Scootaloo was carrying looked precariously high, but the little pegasus was taking careful steps, so nothing was likely to go wro—
A loud knock sounded on the door to the boutique, three staccato hoofbeats. Then a louder knock. Then a tremendous crash that seemed to shake the whole structure. Scootaloo stumbled, the plate of pancakes slipping off her back. Rarity stifled a few very unladylike words, quickly snatching everything in a telekinetic bubble and levitating it over to the table.
Of course, there were more pressing matters than imperiled pancakes. “Sweetie Belle, be a dear won’t you and see what all the fuss is about?”
“So you’re gonna try one, right Rarity?”
She gave the apple pancakes another look. Well, I suppose one or two more won’t hurt. “Yes, yes, now go see who that is.”
Sweetie gave a pleased squeal and cantered off to the front of the shop. Scootaloo stared at the plate of pancakes she’d nearly spilled with a look of mild depression, twitching her wings uselessly. Apple Bloom set the batter aside, turned off the stove and went to comfort her friend, tracking little flour-filled hoofprints across the blue linoleum.
Levitating two more apple pancakes onto her plate, Rarity breathed deep and savored their wonderful aroma. Maybe this Cutie Mark Crusaders thing really has something to it. She ought to encourage the fillies to do these little sleep-overs more often.
After about a minute, during which time Apple Bloom and Scootaloo settled themselves around the table for their own breakfasts, Sweetie Belle returned. Behind her trailed a very harried-looking Twilight Sparkle. Her mane was more than a little frizzed, her eyes positively bloodshot, and she kept looking behind her as if expecting to see a hoard of ravening parasprites on her tail.
Rarity surreptitiously levitated the Canterlot Times-Picayune off the table, stashing it under her stool. “Why, Twilight! What brings you here, so early in the morning?”
“I was hoping to avoid the reporters,” Twilight muttered.
“Yes, well, that’s understandable darling, but it doesn’t quite answer my question.” As Rarity spoke, Sweetie slipped onto the stool beside her. Giving her sister a quick, affectionate nuzzle, Rarity levitated two of the (frankly exquisite) pancakes onto Sweetie Belle’s plate.
“Oh. Um. Yes.” Twilight cast another look back at the entrance of the boutique and scooted a little further into the room. “Well, yesterday I was talking to Princess Celes— I mean… Celestia. And she said I needed to get a new dress made for this year’s Grand Galloping Gala. After all, the old one doesn’t really accommodate my…” She glanced over her shoulder and fluffed out her wings, a self-conscious expression stealing across her face.
Scootaloo gave a little sigh, dropping her gaze to the floor. Sweetie Belle took a break from her pancakes to pat the pegasus filly’s mane reassuringly.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to alter your old Gala dress, darling? I know how much you like it, and it’s just so you. Don’t you think, perhaps, it would be nice if at least one thing were familiar for your first Gala as Equestrian royalty?”
“No!” Twilight shouted. Rarity nearly dropped her fork in shock at the fierceness in her friend’s voice. Clinks of silverware told her that the three fillies, unsurprisingly, weren’t quite as poised. “I mean, no,” Twilight continued. “I think I need a new one. Please, Rarity?”
“Darling, what’s wrong? I know you love that dress. If you’d like another, I’d be more than happy to make it for you, but somehow I don’t think that’s what this is about.”
Twilight slumped to the floor like a discarded sack of flour and laid her head on her hooves. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I can’t wear it! Rarity, they’re going to laugh at me! Twilight Sparkle, the worst princess in Equestria. My picture is going to be all over the front page of every paper in Canterlot, and Celestia only knows what the headlines will look like this time. I’m going to be a laughingstock. Please, please don’t make them laugh at me in my favorite dress!” She took a deep breath, and when she resumed her voice was timid. “I m-mean... I have other dresses. But you m-made that one, and then we... Please, Rarity. Not that dress.”
And then, lying there on the blue linoleum of Rarity’s breakfast nook, the newest member of the Equestrian oligarchy began to cry.
“Oh, darling…” Rarity rose and went to her friend, sitting and stroking Twilight’s mane. The three fillies started to rise as well, but Rarity motioned them back down. Her eyes fell on the newspaper underneath the stool, and with a grimace she sent it sailing into the kitchen wastebin.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Twilight mumbled. “I’m not cut out to be a princess. Everything I do is just one mistake after another.”
“Shh, shh. None of that, now, darling. You’re a wonderful pony and a wonderful princess.” Rarity felt her expression harden. “And if the Canterlot Times-Picayune can’t see that, well, then we’re just going to have to show them ourselves. Girls, why don’t you get Twili...” Rarity’s voice trailed off as an idea flashed into her head. “Girls...” Yes. Yes, of course.
Eyes narrowing, Rarity studied the three fillies at the breakfast table. The trio shrank back, huddling together. Rarity’s mouth twitched into a small smile, and Sweetie Belle gave a little squeal of fright.
The last light of the setting sun slanted through the windows of the Apple family barn – but instead of glittering off straw-dust like it would on any other night, this evening the sunlight illuminated the tall columns and sparkling tiles of a Canterlot palace facsimile. How Pinkie could find such convincing decorations on such short notice, Rarity would probably never understand. But find them she did, and even better, Pinkie had been perfectly content to help set up this party without sticking around to see it through. Pinkie didn’t seem to find the idea of party practice one tenth so interesting as the party itself.
Applejack, on the other hoof, was set on seeing what her barn was being used for. She stood off in the corner, chewing on a stalk of tassled prairie-grass and watching the proceedings with barely concealed amusement.
A small index card, covered back and front with neat hoofwriting, floated through the air toward a little orange pegasus wearing a miniature suit of armor. Rarity coughed daintily to catch the attention of her audience. “Now, Scootaloo, you will play the role of General Eaglebeak, the commander of the Griffonstani Air Corps. Your job tonight is to assess whether Equestria poses any threat to your country and your country’s ambitions. Remember, there have been recent reports suggesting that the princesses have developed a newfound taste for military adventurism. You’re here to see whether there is any truth to those reports.” The cerulean glow around the notecard winked out and Scootaloo caught it with one hoof. She tucked it into her barding and gave Rarity a perfunctory salute.
Turning to her next recruit, Rarity continued. “Apple Bloom. You are Ambassador Walidhani Mkali representing the United Cities and Heartland of Zebrica.” The filly gave an excited giggle that was cut short by one look at Rarity’s ‘this is serious business’ face. “Once again this year, your country has experienced a severe drought. Your recent trade agreement with Equestria ensures your citizens will remain well-fed. But you want to sound out the princesses and see if Equestria would help in repairing the centuries-old irrigation systems that once made your nation a thriving center of agriculture.” Rarity levitated an extensively foot-noted index card to the grinning, jewelry-bedecked Apple Bloom.
“And me? And me?” Sweetie Belle, next in line, bounced a little as she waited for the details of her assignment.
“Why, isn’t it obvious?” Rarity gave her sister an affectionate smile. “You get to be my assistant.”
“Rarity! That’s no fair!” Sweetie stomped her hoof petulantly. “Scootaloo and Apple Bloom get big important roles, and I have to be your… your assistant!?”
“Who says being my assistant isn’t a big important role?” Rarity’s eyes twinkled as she floated a third index card to her sister. “I am famed shipping magnate Catalina Cruz after all. And I have a lot of things I’d like to get done at this Grand Galloping Gala. See lines three through eleven. I’ll need somepony to help me, and maybe if that somepony is very creative, she can find ways to accomplish those goals that even her sister didn’t think up. It’s a very good part, I promise.”
That seemed to mollify Sweetie Belle a little, who slunk back to her friends muttering, “It’d better be good.”
“Ya got anythin’ for me there, Rarity?”
The voice brought Rarity’s head around. Applejack was striding across the barn toward her, Stetson pulled low and a wide grin splitting her mouth. Rarity gave a nervous laugh. “Oh Applejack, I didn’t think you’d be interested in something as silly as our little role-play. I must admit, I was only expecting there to be four of us – and Twilight – so those are all the roles I’ve scripted. But surely there’s some work around the farm you’d rather be doing?”
“Nah, Big Mac’s got everything under control. But shucks, if you’re all out of parts I s’ppose I’ll just have to come up with my own.”
Rarity fought down the urge to try shooing Applejack out of her own barn. She’d spent all morning preparing Sweetie Belle and her friends for what they’d be expected to do here, and Rarity was relatively confident they wouldn’t make a hash of it. But Applejack, ever-honest Applejack, butting in on Rarity’s carefully crafted scenario to help Twilight learn to navigate the dangerous currents of Equestrian politics?
It was a disaster waiting to happen. Rarity had to find some way to get rid of Applejack before she derailed the entire exercise.
Applejack mussed Rarity’s mane affectionately and seemed to read her mind. “Oh don’t worry, sugarcube. Everything’ll be as fine as frog’s hair.” She trotted past and gave the barn a quick study. “Hey! Twi! Where are you at?”
A muffled voice from the barn’s exterior answered her. “I’m out here. Does that mean you’ve got everything set up?”
Rarity turned toward the voice, trying to smooth her mane back into its proper coiffure. She spoke quickly to wrest back control of the situation. “Yes, darling. We’re ready for you now.”
The barn door swung open and Twilight stepped inside, wearing her full royal regalia – though no dress just yet. She closed the door behind her and approached the others in a stately walk. Rarity clapped her hooves and turned back to the three fillies. “All right, girls! Remember, this is a party, so we mingle with each other too. No standing around watching Twilight the whole time. Apple Bloom, why don’t you introduce yourself first?”
Irritatingly, Applejack was the one who responded. “Sure thing, sugarcube,” she said as she walked over to Scootaloo and struck up a conversation.
As for Apple Bloom, the little filly did a wonderful imitation of a stately promenade, approaching Twilight and giving a very respectful bow.
Twilight returned the bow, not quite as deep – at least she had the behavioral niceties down, it seemed. Rarity had given her some limited clues about what to expect, so Twilight began the exchange. “Ambassador Mkali, isn’t it? Thank you for joining our celebration tonight. I hope you find it as enjoyable as we do.”
Rarity nodded along. The greeting could be more polished, of course, but Twilight had said nothing that could give offense yet.
“Thank you, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Your greeting… um… really makes my heart full.”
A cold shudder ran through Rarity. “Apple Bloom! Just because Zecora talks that way doesn’t mean all zebras do!”
Apple Bloom turned her head to glare back at Rarity. “Are you playin’ the ambassador now? ‘Cause if you’re not, why don’t you… go milk a cow!”
Twilight tried to stifle a laugh and get back into the role-play. Rarity huffed and turned away from the pair. Well, as long as Apple Bloom played her part well, it didn’t really matter if she mimicked that particular vocal tic.
“Madame Cruz,” piped a familiar voice beside her. “Shouldn’t we be discussing tonight’s arrangements, so I know what you’d like me to talk about at the Gala?”
“Hush, Sweetie. I need to listen to Twilight.”
“But Rarity, you said we were supposed to—”
“No no no, I said you were supposed to go mingle with the others. I have to watch out for mistakes so I can correct them.”
“Well, then why aren’t I playing Catalina Cruz?”
“Because you’re my assistant. Now run along and play with Scootaloo.”
“Rari—” Sweetie began, before dropping off into a heavy sigh. “Oh, forget it.”
The filly’s departure went largely unnoticed, however. Rarity was too busy listening – with mounting horror – to Twilight’s interaction with the simulated Mkali.
“I don’t know, it seems so gaudy to me, all that gold jewelry. I feel funny just wearing a tiara. I have to admit, I think it looks a lot better on you than it’d ever look on me, but I still don’t know how you zebras can stand the weight of it all.”
Before Apple Bloom could respond, Rarity leapt into the space after Twilight’s words. “Darling! No! You simply don’t say things like that!”
“But that’s what I think, when I see all that jewelry.” Twilight lowered her eyes and scuffed at the tiles with one hoof.
“Don’t you see how you’ve managed to simultaneously insult her and her culture, and make yourself out to be superior to them?”
“I… what?” Twilight blinked.
“Well, you complained about Mkali’s jewelry. Surely you see the insult in that. And then you expressed a lack of understanding for why the zebra culture would engage in the practice of wearing such jewelry. That suggests they’re frivolous, or perhaps just mentally infirm.”
“But I never meant anything like that! And how does that make me superior to them, anyway?”
“You feel funny wearing a tiara, darling. You’re an alicorn princess. You have no need for jewelry. It’s a quaint affectation of the lower classes.”
Twilight threw back her head and groaned. “Aagh! You sound just like the newspapers. I hate this! So what, I’m not even allowed to have opinions any more, now that I’m a princess?”
“No, dear, you can still have opinions. You just need to express them positively. Watch.”
Rarity turned around to stand beside Twilight, flank to flank. She gave a little bow of her own to Apple Bloom. “Ambassador! How nice it is to see you here tonight. I trust the festivities are to your satisfaction?”
Apple Bloom gave a little cough. “Yes, dear princess, they are most engaging. But I must say, your dress is really amazing.”
Rarity clicked her tongue idly, but forced herself to continue. Her words came at a brisk pace, to keep anypony from having too much time to think about them. “And your jewelry as well, ambassador. I’ve always wondered what it must be like to wear Zebrican jewelry, but I must say I don’t believe it would look half as good on me as it does on you. That gold goes so well with zebra coloring, but I’m always afraid that it wouldn’t look as good with my own mane. What do you think, ambassador?”
“I could prob’ly get you some if you really wanted to try it out.” Apple Bloom shook her head as if dazed. “I mean… Aw heck, Rarity, now you got me too confused to rhyme with ‘out’.”
Rarity gave the filly a smile. “Thank you, Apple Bloom. I think that’s enough for now. Why don’t we give one of your friends a chance to talk with Twilight, and we’ll come back to Ambassador Mkali later.” Apple Bloom nodded and trotted back to where Scootaloo and Sweetie Bell stood chatting beside one of the imitation columns.
“I don’t get it,” Twilight said. “That was awfully close to what I said, wasn’t it? Why was yours okay when mine… when mine would just get me back in the headlines again?”
“Why don’t we break it down, darling? First of all, I began with a compliment where you began with a criticism. That puts me on solid ground to start, while you have to make up ground you’ve already lost. When I phrase my own criticism – that I’m not sure Zebrican jewelry would look very good on me – I couch it in yet another compliment. It’s not that it won’t look good on me so much as it won’t look as good as it does on the ambassador. Finally,” and here Rarity couldn’t keep a small smirk on her face, “I invite the ambassador’s opinion, effectively ensuring that the next steps of the conversation will stay in innocuous territory. Never let others dictate the conversation for you, dear. It only leads to barbs and traps, and yes, ugly headlines.
“Now why don’t we give you another dignitary with whom you can interact?” Rarity turned back toward the assemblage of fillies and called out. “Scootaloo? How would you like to introduce your General Eaglebeak to Princess Twilight?”
Scootaloo stepped out from the group, her decorative barding clanking as she moved. “Actually… I don’t think I need to, Rarity. I think Sweetie Belle and I already got all our objectives sorted out.”
“You can’t sort them all out,” Rarity said. “You have to talk to Twilight.”
“I guess, if you say so… But I’m just supposed to make sure we know whether Equestria means to attack us, right? And make sure they can’t interfere with our nation’s agenda, right?”
“Well, yes…”
“And Sweetie’s mostly supposed to make sure your shipping business becomes more profitable, right?”
“That is what my assistant should be doing.”
“Well, we did that.”
“How?”
Scootaloo paused for a moment to take a deep breath, and then her words came out in a rush. “Well, we want to make sure Equestria isn’t invading our territory, so we could sound out the princesses and the bureaucrats or we could just make sure for ourselves. Since your company does both shipping and luxury cruises, Griffonstan agrees to give your company… (’reduced port fees and tariffs,’ prompted Sweetie Belle) …yeah, in exchange for permission to put spies… (’discretely station military observers’) …on your trips between our nation and Equestria, giving us the chance to watch for any potential military buildup ourselves. Spying is always better than diplomacy, right? And then Catalina Shipping gets a big new customer with the ar— (’Griffonstani Ministry of Preemptive Defense’) —yeah, what Sweetie said. ‘Cause we’ve never been very happy with how the last Camelu war turned out. So they help us ship our… our… (’materiel’) up and down the coast, as needed, so it’s available if Equestria moves on our northern border, or for when the time comes and we decide to push south into Camelu. So even if the princesses have a problem with what we want to do, we’re firming up our position so they won’t get much of a window to interfere with our agenda. And Catalina Shipping and Catalina Cruises both get a bunch more business from our national patronage. It’s a win-win, really.”
Rarity gave an irritated shake of her mane and sent out wisps of telekinesis to locate the notecards she had given to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. She found them and snatched them back, setting them side by side in front of her and scanning quickly.
“So did we get them!?” Sweetie Belle piped.
“Just lemme look… Darn! No cutie marks for political intrigue.”
“Maybe it’s because we were only role-playing?”
“Soo…”
“Rarity! Rarity! Can we go to Canterlot after this?”
“Absolutely not!” The two notecards shredded themselves in midair, their pieces falling to the tile in a flurry of confetti. “You… you may have executed your agendas, yes, but you both completely missed the point of the exercise!”
Applejack grinned and stepped forward to stand in front of Rarity and Twilight. “Well, in that case, I s’ppose that means it’s my turn to greet the new princess, ain’t it?”
Twilight turned to Rarity with an uncertain look. “Who’s Applejack playing? I don’t remember a fifth role.”
“There isn—”
“Well how-dee! I’m mighty pleased to make your acquaintance, Yer Majesty. I ain’t but a simple miner from down south, am I. Treasure Trove’s the name. Don’t do a whole lotta mining m’self, these days, though. It’s a young colt’s game, and this old stallion’s gettin’ a bit long in the tooth.” Applejack gave a braying laugh.
Rarity jumped into the opening. She didn’t like where this was going. “The proper form of address for a princess of Equest—”
“—ria is ‘Your Highness’, yes, I know, I know. I hope you’ll pardon an old miner his country ways, Yer Majesty, but y’see, I gots me a question. Now, the Treasure Trove Quarrying and Mining Corporation ain’t the biggest operator in Ee-questria, o’course. Nothin’ like your friend Catalina’s shipping company, tho I’ve heard some mighty suspicious rumors about their dealings of late. No, no, we’re just simple miners, but we heard you was fixin’ to get us access to them there gold deposits up in North Griffonstan.”
“I never said we were going to—” Twilight began.
“Well, I was just thinkin, if’n we’re gonna lay claim to those deposits, somepony ought to be responsible for the extraction and refinement, right?”
“I suppose, but it’s really not my place to award... I mean, no, we won’t be laying claim to any new—”
“What, with all that talk about us gettin’ involved up there? You ain’t tellin’ me that were all hogwash, are ya? We gots allies that need protectin’, don’t we? Them griffons, them’s a dangerous folk. I always figured we’d be layin’ plans to deal with them as were proper, if push came to shove. Why just the other day, me an’ old Golden Horde were—”
“No!” Twilight said, horrified. “There are absolutely no plans to—”
“T’invade Griffonstan? Well, that’s a shame. Guess I’m out fifty bits!”
Applejack stopped to take a breath, and Rarity swooped in once again. “Ahem. Mr. Trove, it was very nice of you to favor the princess with your presence, but she has many ponies to see tonight, and—”
“And she still ain’t answered my question. If the princess can’t divvy up the minin’ rights, beggin’ your pardon Yer Majesty, who does a stallion see about that sort of thing?”
Twilight stood speechless under the onslaught of words. This, Rarity decided, had gone on long enough. “Applejack, I really don’t think you’re—”
“What’s this, then? Princess can’t answer a simple pony’s question? What’s high-an’-mighty Missus Catalina Cruz doing, answerin’ for her. You’re manipulatin’ her, ain’t you? Poor little impressionable thing. New to princessin’ and all.”
The first shades of panic had appeared in Twilight’s eyes. “I— No! I—”
“Oh, so you’re in cahoots!” Applejack crowed. “Well you can bet folk are gonna hear ‘bout this, mark my words. This here’s colludin’ in the highest levels of governmint. There’s colludin’ going on, and the people of Ee-questria ain’t gonna stand for that!”
“Stop it!” Twilight wailed, her back legs collapsing to sit her down hard on the tiles. “Stop it, Applejack! This isn’t funny! If I can’t figure this out, they’re going to tear me apart at the Gala!”
Rarity shoved her way between Applejack and Twilight. She fixed Applejack in place with an icy stare. “Darling! You. Are. Not. Helping. Twilight needs to prepare herself for refined social interaction. She needs to learn how to handle foreign dignitaries and other very important ponies, not... not nouveau-riche louts like your Mr. Trove. You just don’t understand what we’re trying to do here!”
“No, sugarcube, I don’t think you understand. This ain’t just about the Gala. This is about what kind of princess Twilight is, and what kind of princess she oughta try to be. I’m sure, if it were you with the wings and all the reporters trailin’ after you like a passel of farm critters, you’d be doin’ just fine. But this is our Twi, and she doesn’t see the world like you. She’s all about books, an’ schooling, an’ magic. And Equestria’s just gonna have to learn that that’s who she is.”
“But I need to do something,” Twilight said. “I’ve tried being myself for the last four months, and all it’s done is make them hate me more each day. If I can’t find some way to fix this, they’ll… Or Princess Celestia will… Oh, I don’t even know what they do with bad princesses!”
“Whoa there, girl.” Applejack held up a hoof. “The press don’t hate you. They just don’t know you yet. They ain’t had a new princess since Cadance, and that was what, near enough twenty years ago? Most of these reporters were probably still in school back then. You don’t know how to deal with them, but they don’t know how to deal with you either. And so they’re just looking for every story they can write, no matter how bad it may make you look.”
Applejack paused a moment, frowning. “But you’re right about one thing. You do need to do somethin’. You can’t let ‘em keep pushin’ you around like this. You gotta stop givin’ them such easy pickings on the bad stories. Just stop an’ think a couple seconds before you speak. See if you can find some way your words might be easy to misinterpret.” After another pause for thought, Applejack continued. “An’ don’t worry about this political intrigue business of Rarity’s. Maybe you can try it in a few more years, when you feel more comfortable. But Rarity’s been thinkin’ about this sort of thing all her life – don’t you deny it, sugarcube – and it’s askin’ a lot for you to learn it all overnight.”
Oh, but Applejack could be frustrating! Rarity felt her temper starting to surge. “Teaching Twilight to pause and think about what she’s saying is precisely what I’m trying to do, darling. But as you yourself so ably demonstrated, that is not always enough. For the press, maybe it will work. For now. But what about representatives of foreign governments? What about members of the Equestrian nobility? Twilight must be prepared to deal with those who want to manipulate her for their own advantage!”
Applejack’s lips drew into a thin line. “I don’t care if she’s gotta deal with the grand pooh-bah of Guatellama! Twilight ain’t all slick-tongued and slippery like you, an’ I can’t see any reason why she’d want to be, neither!”
“Darling, you don’t understand! Conversation is a game for nobleponies, and if Twilight is going to be a princess, she has to learn to play!” Rarity felt a tug on her mane and looked down to see Sweetie Belle frowning at her and trying to push her away from Applejack. Apple Bloom had interposed herself as well, and was giving her older sister a fearsome glare. Rarity’s eyes narrowed in annoyance at the two fillies. This was between her and Applejack.
“This ain’t no joke, Rarity! We gotta help Twilight get this mess sorted out. Pretendin’ this is some fancy-schmancy Canterlot game ain’t gonna help nopony!”
“A game is precisely what it is, and if your head wasn’t so full of apples, maybe you’d be able to see it!”
“Girls! Stop this right now!” Twilight’s voice thundered through the barn, and whatever words Applejack was preparing to say, they died on her lips. Rarity gave a small, involuntary smirk – and then, in the silence of the barn following Twilight’s shout, she heard her own words coming back to her. She met Applejack’s eyes, saw the anger she’d caused. Rarity’s cheeks reddened and she dropped her gaze to the tiles.
Twilight raised one hoof across her chest and then extended it out in front of her, breathing deeply. “Okay. That’s better. Now—” She shared out a look for both Rarity and Applejack. “—both of you are my friends. But you’re both acting like this is your problem to fix, and it’s not. This is my problem. And… And I’m sorry, Rarity, but Applejack is right about one thing. This isn’t working. You both have some good ideas, but this is something I need to figure out for myself.”
“Are you sure about that, sugarcube?”
“Yes, darling, you know we only want to help. I’m sorry if – well – if I let this role-playing idea get a bit out of hoof, but… You know we just want to see you succeed, of course. It hurts us too, when we see you get hurt by all this.” Applejack shot a quick, contrite look at Rarity, and Rarity met it with a blush and a small smile of her own.
“I’m sure. I think I know what I have to do, now. But thank you, both of—” Twilight paused and regarded the three costumed fillies standing a little way off. “Thank you, all five of you. And anyway, even if it wasn’t quite right for me…” Twilight’s cheeks reddened in turn. “It was kinda fun.”
On the eve of the Grand Galloping Gala, Twilight stood in the boudoir of her guest apartment in the Canterlot palace astronomy tower, studying two dresses.
The first was a brilliant gown in sunset colors. Crimson beadwork covered an elaborate interweaving of vermilion and yellow silks, all fading toward darker hues in the ruching that extended from the haunch through the train. Rarity had done amazing work, once again. The dress was dazzling, in every way fit for a princess. But it wasn’t her dress.
The second… Twilight had reluctantly agreed to let Rarity alter the old blue Gala dress. Twilight still wasn’t sure she was happy with her decision. It felt wrong, somehow, to let that dress be changed. It wasn’t the dress’s fault that Twilight was a princess now. But even with the alterations, the dress was as beautiful as ever. To Twilight, it would always be her dress, the first dress Rarity had ever made for her.
Both dresses were beautiful, but Twilight knew without hesitation which one she preferred. And still, she couldn’t keep herself from feeling a stab of fear, and of shame, whenever she looked at it. That dress was special. The sight of it, the feel of it, carried so many good memories.
Twilight sighed, looking back and forth between the two dresses. The gala would start in less than an hour now, and she still hadn’t decided which dress to wear.
A loud knock at the entrance to her guest suite tore Twilight away from the problem. She trotted back through the bedchamber and pulled open the door to reveal two unfamiliar ponies: a fire-maned yellow unicorn mare and an earth pony mare with a dusky rose coat.
The unicorn mare took a step forward, stopping just beyond the threshold of Twilight’s apartments. “Princess Sparkle, my name is Spinning Top. If you are agreeable, the Cabinet Office would like me to accompany you at the Gala tonight. You seem to have gone into seclusion for the last three weeks, and the Secretary simply wants to make sure the press don’t become over-excited by your return to public life.”
Twilight looked between the two mares, feeling a lump of worry form in her stomach. She recognized the name. Doctor Spinning Top was – according to Twilight’s notes, which had become quite copious over those same three weeks – the Secretary for the Cabinet Office of Public Affairs. Most ponies just shortened the title to Press Secretary, though. Apparently Twilight’s earlier performances had been so bad that somepony had seen fit to call out the cavalry. That rankled, but Twilight could hardly call it unjustified. Giving a small nod, she motioned the two mares inside. “And… um… Your companion would be?”
Before Spinning could respond, the other mare stepped forward and held out her hoof for Twilight to shake. “Gilded Lily, of the Equestria Daily. And if I may say, what a pleasure it is to have the opportunity to meet you in person, Your Highness.”
Twilight shot a panicked look at Spinning, but the press secretary returned her expression with a smile. “Lily is an old colleague, and somepony I trust. I thought it might help things tonight if we started the evening with a friendly interview, before we have to face the swarms of reporters down at the party. Assuming you have time, princess?”
Of course I have time, and I’ll bet you know it. Twilight fought back the urge to sigh. The civil service had probably been monitoring her every move since she arrived at the palace. She suspected, in hindsight, that her schedule for today had been carefully arranged to ensure that she would be entirely free at this precise time. Well, no help for it. She’d have to face the press tonight, one way or another.
“Yes, I think I have time.” Twilight paused for a moment and took a deep breath, before giving the two mares a smile. “I just brewed some tea for myself a few minutes ago. If you’d care to have some, we could all sit and talk for a little while.”
Spinning returned Twilight’s smile, and the pair followed her to a round table that stood near a bank of windows overlooking Canterlot Town. The sun was low on the horizon, casting a pink glow across the palace and through Twilight’s windows. The three sat, and Twilight levitated a pair of cups and saucers from a china cabinet along the south wall. She reheated the kettle with a spell she’d learned back in her days at the academy, pouring for herself and her two guests. The citrus scent of bergamot filled the air.
Gilded Lily took one perfunctory sip of the tea before clinking her cup back onto its saucer. “Your Highness, I know you’ve had some difficulty with the media before now – even going so far as to suggest that press freedoms should be cut back, I think I read – but I do hope we can have a pleasant conversation, just the two of us.”
And like that, Twilight knew the test was upon her. This was why she’d spent the last three weeks reading every scrap she could find that might help her solve her problems with the press. There weren’t any books about how to be a princess, but the Canterlot library was packed with volumes about government-media relations, chronicles of various scandals, and treatises concerning proper conversational etiquette. But despite three weeks of careful study – long nights spent at her desk, poring through page after page by candlelight – it was Applejack’s words that first popped into Twilight’s mind. Stop an’ think a couple seconds before you speak.
Spinning Top’s smile slipped ever so slightly in the brief silence that followed Lily’s words. She turned to the reporter and spoke in a soft voice. “I thought we agreed that—”
“No, it’s fine, Madame Secretary. I assume you’re referring to the article that appeared in the Daily Sun, Ms. Lily? I believe the headline was something like, ‘ “Down with the press,” declares Equestria’s newest royal.’ ”
“I can’t say I remember precisely where I saw—”
Twilight smiled. “Yes, that particular piece was written by Spicy Dish, as I recall. And wholly inaccurate, but what can you expect from a paper like the Sun? Of course, they’re free to publish whatever they want, but don’t you agree that we’d all be better served if more journalists strove for the standards of your own Equestria Daily, Ms. Lily?”
Spinning took another sip of tea, her smile now replaced. “Yes, quite,” she murmured.
Gilded Lily pulled out a small notepad and set it on the table, scratching down a few words before returning her attention to the conversation. “Well, I can hardly argue with that, Your Highness. But you can’t deny that your run-ins with the press have been – shall we say – problematic, since your coronation.”
“No, of course not,” Twilight said. Applejack was right: it wasn’t in Twilight’s nature to prevaricate with the truth. “The whole thing took me by surprise as much as anypony else, and I wasn’t prepared for the the sort of scrutiny a princess of Equestria has to face. But it’s hardly fair to blame the press for my own lack of preparation, don’t you think?” Well, it wasn’t in Twilight’s nature to prevaricate too much, anyway. Sometimes, Rarity’s way was better.
Lily hummed in agreement as she scribbled out a few more notes. “But surely you must feel some guilt, especially regarding the increased tension between Equestria and Griffonstan over the last two months. Your comments about Camelu water rights and Northern Griffonstan, in particular, have been seen as particularly inflammatory. And arguing about griffon quills with the trade minister? I mean, isn’t that just a little insulting?”
A dark look clouded Spinning Top’s face, and she stared openly at the reporter. Clearly, this wasn’t the sort of interview the press secretary had expected. She appeared on the verge of saying something, but Twilight held up a hoof to stop her.
“On the subject of the Camelu situation, I stand by everything I said before.” Lesson one, in many of those books on government-media relations, was to address the question you wanted to answer, rather than the question you were asked. “The people of Camelu are facing a crisis of the first order. Their representatives may have to soft-pedal the issue to keep the Griffonstani appeased, but Equestria has no such duty. It is simply inexcusable for the Griffonstani to keep this issue tied up in endless talks. Camels are dying.” Twilight had very strong opinions on this subject, and she wasn’t about to walk them back to make the Griffonstani ambassador feel better about what his country was doing.
“Yes, of course, but what about your comments on the subject of Northern Griffonstan? Many ponies in Equestria agree with you about the Camelu situation, but taken together your statements seem to show a pattern of disregard for our Griffon neighbors.”
This time, Spinning Top didn’t try to jump in. She just turned to watch Twilight, her face curiously absent of expression.
“Is that so?” Twilight gave the reporter a smile and took a languid sip from her teacup. “If I remember correctly, your paper has published eleven articles on Northern Griffonstan since – as you call them – my comments. But I found it curious that only the first of those pieces carried an actual quote from me. You had quotes aplenty, of course, but all from members of the Griffonstani foreign delegation and officials from our own Equestrian civil service. Would you care to know what that first article said?”
Gilded Lily was writing furiously now, but her quill seemed to be running dry. She tapped it against the notebook, trying to bring some more ink forward from the cartridge concealed within the pinion. “The initial comments are hardly important; what matters is the reaction that they—”
“ ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle, formerly the prize pupil of HRH Princess Celestia, offered her thoughts to our tourism reporter during a brief visit to Pony Joe’s Donut Shop. “Northern Griffonstan? I read that it has great mineralogical wealth. And the canyons of the Cold Snap badlands are supposed to be very beautiful. Maybe I can go see them sometime soon.” Although the griffons closed off tourism to Northern Griffonstan last year, citing increased danger from Free Gryphon Republic separatists, her highness’s hopes for a resolution are most assuredly shared by this reporter.’
“That was from the sixth page of the D Section, incidentally. The first front-page article was the following day’s response from the Griffonstani ambassador, where he decried ‘Equestria’s long history of imperial adventurism’ and said that ‘Griffonstan stands ready to resist any territorial threat Princess Sparkle or her nation may have in mind.’ ”
“You memorized the articles?” Gilded Lily looked incredulous, and a little insulted. “Isn’t that a bit… thin-skinned?”
Twilight blushed. “Well, I didn’t really memorize them, but they did stick in my head pretty well. I’ve always had a good memory, though. For example, I believe you wrote a column on the Camelu water crisis that came out the same day as that tourism piece, Ms. Lily. It was quite good, as I recall. There was a particularly evocative bit about ‘thirsty calves fighting one another at the riverbed each morning, pitchers in hoof, desperate for a few more ounces to bring back to their families.’ To be honest, your reporting had a lot to do with shaping my own attitudes about the situation there.”
Gilded Lily dropped her eyes to her notebook, looking a little abashed as she tried to scratch down more notes. For her part, Spinning Top was wearing a small smile once again, but one that looked less practiced and more genuine than her earlier smiles.
“In any case,” Lily said, “don’t you at least regret what you said to the trade advisor about griffon quills?”
Twilight arched an eyebrow and grinned, choosing not to respond to the barb just yet. She had felt a little bad about that particular argument, but the guilt just prompted Twilight to do what she did best – research. Maybe she had been wrong about the ink capacity of griffon quills, in which case she’d have owed the trade advisor an apology. Then again, if Twilight’s opinion were borne out by data, there wouldn’t be any logic behind her feeling bad. So she’d tested a random sample of griffon quills alongside a random sample of pegasus quills, and the results were quite conclusive. Pegasus quills held more ink than griffon quills, by a factor of nearly two-to-one.
Knowledge had always been Twilight’s weapon, after all, and clear thinking her armor. Being a princess didn’t change who she was, it just placed her under deeper scrutiny.
The scritch-scritch of Lily’s quill continued a few more seconds before trailing off. With a look of frustration, the reporter began tapping it against the notepad once more. As Lily realized Twilight wasn’t going to answer her question, she looked up and opened her mouth to speak – which was precisely when Twilight cut her off.
“Your quill doesn’t seem to be holding ink very well today, Ms. Lily. If you’d like, I can let you use one of mine.”
Spinning Top stood, giving Gilded Lily a tight smile. “All right. We’re done here. That should be enough material for your exclusive, Gilded. I think we should let the princess get back to her preparations. Thank you, Your Highness.”
Lily rose from the table as well, and gave a small curtsy. She met Twilight’s eyes and blushed. “I… um… Our editor, Breaking News, had some strong opinions about what sort of interview we should run tomorrow. I’m sorry. But thank you, for making sure I can’t write what he wanted. I’ve always hated writing pieces like that.”
Spinning motioned the reporter toward the door and turned back to Twilight. “Your Highness, as I said, I’ve been asked to accompany you tonight, but if you’d prefer…?”
The vote of confidence felt wonderful – wonderful enough to help Twilight make a decision – but she shook her head in response to the question. “No, I think I could still use the help. That is, if you don’t mind?”
“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness.”
The princess set her teacup on its saucer and stood, walking into the boudoir. “All right. If you could wait outside for just a moment, then, I should be ready to go down to the Gala soon, Madame Secretary.” Twilight smiled and ran one hoof over the familiar, star-patterned blue silk. “It will only take me a minute to put on my dress.”
