The Sun Burns Brightly

by Eakin

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Luna
Length: 5640

Celestia is in complete control of her emotions. That's not necessarily a good thing.

When you're the immortal ruler of an entire kingdom, the most important quality to possess is self-control. No princess can rule her nation if her emotions rule her. Celestia knows this better than anypony, and mastered them long ago.

So long ago, she may have forgotten that a little bit of passion can come in handy now and again.

Published 2013-12-17 02:30:03 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-17 02:30:03 UTC

Everything Is Under Control

THE SUN BURNS BRIGHTLY

EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL

Celestia let out a tired sigh as the magic dissipated from her horn. No fanfare or glory this evening, she just wanted the sun to be down and the day to be over already. She rose up from her throne, startling her team of diplomats and advisors who had been hotly debating the details on the upcoming summit with the North Griffin empire. There were so many last-minute details that seemed to require her personal attention, and so many things that could still go wrong. But she needed a break.

“Thank you very much, everypony,” she said as the last echoes of their arguments faded from the great hall, “we’ll call that a night. Please send word to Ebon Beak with the final arrangements, and make sure he does not require any additional changes before we begin negotiations.”

“Very well, princess,” said Plumed Quill. She fidgeted a bit, unsure if she should go on. “Um... we do need to know your final decision on the issue of the pardon, though.”

Princess Celestia stopped in her tracks. Of course, she’d very nearly managed to force herself to forget that, but no such luck. Certain that nopony could see her face, she squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment before opening them once more. “Draft it for immediate release. I’ll sign it first thing in the morning.”

“As you wish.” Plumed Quill scribbled a note down on the scroll she held in her hooves and nodded to another unicorn, who trotted away to take care of the legalities.

“Thank you all for all your hard work,” said Princess Celestia, turning back to face them. “I have high hopes that this meeting will finally break the ice a bit between our two nations, and if it does Equestria owes you all a great debt. It may not seem like a lot, but reopened trade could be the first tiny step towards a proper peace treaty after so long.”

The ponies mumbled a bit at the praise, blushing and looking away. One of them eventually did speak up, a sandy yellow pegasus named West Wing. “We are only doing our duty, Princess. It’s no great thing.”

“You give yourself too little credit. It is a great thing to those who will benefit from whatever decisions we make tomorrow, griffin and pony alike,” she replied. That’s why you agreed to this, after all, she reassured herself. Think of your subjects who are alive in the here and now, not those who are long gone. It would be irresponsible to revisit the sins of the past on griffins who weren’t even born then.

Celestia had convinced everypony that this was the moral, rational and responsible course of action. Everypony except herself. But she was going ahead with it anyway.

Her team nodded once again and, sensing that they had been dismissed, trotted out of the room leaving Celestia alone with her thoughts. Once she was alone, her poise disappeared as she hung her head and slumped her shoulders. She removed her crown and set it on the throne behind her; It was feeling exceptionally heavy right at the moment. She closed her eyes and listened to the silence that filled the throne room. These were the moments she savored, when there were no choices, no decisions, no impossible dilemmas that everypony looked to her to somehow resolve with her supposedly-infinite wisdom and compassion.

Mind-reading spells were explicitly forbidden within the palace, and even if they weren’t Celestia had long ago learned to counter them. The official reason for this policy was to protect state secrets. The real reason was that if anypony knew the sort of panic and desperation that raced through her mind every time she was called to solve such problems, Equestria would collapse within five minutes.

Celestia smiled as she felt the moon rise somewhere outside. She brushed a hoof over her chest, settling the few out-of-place hairs in her coat that were the only sign of how stressful the day had been. She bowed her head as she slipped the crown back over her head, and trotted away towards the dining room. This was one of the best parts of her day, and after everything that had occupied her attention she needed it more than ever.

That’s why she was surprised when she reached the dining room, and saw Princess Luna had already begun dinner without her. Seated across from her was a stallion from the Night Guard, who looked tense and uncomfortable as he picked at his food. “Ah! Sister! Come join us,” called out Luna as she noticed Celestia’s entrance, waving her over. Celestia obligingly trotted up to the table as Luna’s magic pulled a cushion out for her to sit upon. “Please meet Glinting Steel, one of my guards. Glinting Steel, this is Princess Celestia.”

“I, uh,” stammered Glinting Steel, “I know who she is.”

Celestia smiled at the nervous grey earth pony, hoping to put him at ease. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Glinting Steel.”

“You honor me, your majesty,” he replied, a bit stiffly.

Luna giggled, her laughter filling the room like the jangling of silver bells. “He’s still a tad intimidated by the idea of dining with a princess. Perhaps you heard about the fire that broke out on Bridle Street last night?”

“I did, yes,” said Celestia, furrowing her brow as she tried to recall the details from the report she’d been given that morning. “Nopony was hurt, were they? There was that guard who rushed in and pulled...” her mind finally made the connection. “That was you?”

He blushed furiously. “It... it was nothing. Just doing my duty.”

“There seems to be a great deal of that going around today,” replied Celestia. “Well, I certainly can’t complain about getting the chance to learn a bit more about such a courageous pony. I’d be happy to join you both.” She sat down, and waiters appeared at her side in an instant, placing a goblet of wine next to her plate. “Oh, that isn’t necessary.”

“I insist,” said Luna. “From the sound of things, the day you’ve had today warrants it. Besides, it’s moonberry, and an excellent vintage if I do say so myself.”

Celestia looked down at her reflection in the ruby red wine, and licked her lips at the prospect. She really shouldn’t. She had a full day tomorrow, and the last thing she needed was to go into the negotiations in a half-addled state.

And yet...

“Well, I suppose one glass can’t hurt,” she said, lifting it to her lips and taking a small sip. The pleasant burning at the back of her mouth as the wine slipped down her throat was more welcome than she’d expected. “I decided to sign the pardon, just so you know.”

“What pardon?” asked Glinting Steel, looking back and forth between the princesses.

When Celestia grew quiet and declined to answer, Luna spoke up. “Tell me, Glinting Steel, what do you know of Equestrian history? Specifically, our war with North Griffonia?”

“Umm...” Glinting Steel bit his lip, eyes darting to his lap as he tried to recall, “didn’t that end a long time ago?”

“Technically, it never ended at all,” said Celestia. A salad was placed before her and she took a bite, savoring the rush of flavor as a ripe, juicy cherry tomato burst between her teeth. She washed it down with another sip of wine, this one a bit bigger than the last. “The cease fire signed eighty years ago is still in effect, though.”

“Indeed. It is our hope that with a new generation of their leadership, we might return to more normal relations. Although...” Luna glanced over to her sister, “...some of us are more optimistic than others.”

“There’s no sensible reason for them to go on as they have,” said Celestia. “At some point, they have to realize that it’s an irrational waste for us to go on glaring at one another across the border. Surely they have better things to do with the money.”

Glinting Steel frowned and furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand, though. Who are you pardoning?”

“General Sharpclaw,” answered Luna. “Though you may better remember him as ‘The Butcher of Baltimare.’”

“Isn’t he, y’know, dead?”

Celestia nodded. “He is, and good riddance frankly. He was responsible for...” she shuddered. “Forgive me. Such things are not appropriate fare for dinner conversation. Suffice it to say that those were dark days for Equestria.” She paused, and gulped down more wine. Luna had been right, it really was good. “But the griffins consider him to be a hero, rather than a villain. A formal pardon for his crimes was their precondition for agreeing to attend this summit at all.”

“If he’s gone, why does it matter?” asked Glinting Steel.

“My point precisely,” said Celestia. Her eyes met Luna’s, their icy blue depths betraying nothing but impassivity. “Everypony who lived through that time is long dead. It is a symbolic gesture that costs nopony anything. Well worth it.”

“Not everypony who lived then is gone,” Luna said quietly. “I can think of one, in particular, and I believe that she’s kidding herself.”

“I’m not so selfish that I’d let my feelings jeopardize a real chance for peace.” Celestia felt her ire beginning to rise at the implications of Luna’s rebuke. Down the hatch went another gulp of wine to quash it. “But I’ve been dwelling on tomorrow’s summit all day. Why don’t we talk about something else?”

Luna shrugged. “Very well. Glinting Steel, I hope you don’t mind my asking you to restart your tale from the beginning. Much as I’m eager to know how it ends, my sister should hear it told properly, don’t you think?”

Over the next hour, Glinting Steel began to unwind a little bit. Centuries of diplomacy had taught Celestia all the little secrets for making her guests feel welcome and appreciated, but she found she didn’t need to fake enjoyment for the benefit of her unexpected dinner companion at all. The stallion was genuinely charming, when he wasn’t terrified.

The wine was probably helping with that, too.

Sometime during the third course of the overly-lavish meal, she happened to look down at her glass, and something occurred to her. “That’s odd,” she said. Focusing on the thought was proving surprisingly difficult. Despite her size, she was a bit of a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

“What is?” asked Luna.

“I just noticed that my cup is still full,” said Celestia.

“Well, we’ll soon fix that. Cheers!” She floated her own glass over the center of the table, and Celestia rolled her eyes as she brought her goblet up to meet it. Glinting Steel joined them, and all three of their glasses clinked together before they each took a large gulp. Celestia shrugged off her concerns. It was so much easier to not worry about something for once.

After the fourth and final plateful of food was gone, she laid down her knife and fork, utterly stuffed. “No dessert for me, I think,” she said to her waiter. “My compliments to the chef, as usual. Everything was very...” she paused, noticing for the first time that her words were coming out a bit slurred.

“Feeling a bit tipsy, sister?” asked Luna. She grinned across the table, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’s been too long since you properly relaxed. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Huh?” Celestia tilted her head to one side. It wasn’t like she’d been drinking to excess. She’d only had a single glass.

A single glass that she noticed once again was completely full.

“Glinting Steel, do you play chess?” asked Luna.

“Ooh! I love chess!” exclaimed Celestia, louder than she’d really meant to.

“I’ve played before, but I’m not that good,” admitted Glinting Steel.

“Well, my sister is not that sober. Why don’t you two play a few matches before she settles in for the night? I’d play her myself, but if I tarry any longer the Night Court shall begin late.”

Celestia frowned at her sister, sensing something amiss. It was so hard to focus on, though, and why were there three Lunas all revolving around one another? “I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

“Of course you aren’t,” said Luna, gently patting her on the shoulder. She stood up. “Consider it an order. You two have fun.”

“But... I...” Glinting Steel tried to sputter an objection, but before he could Luna was already walking away.

Celestia giggled and clapped her hooves together. “A wonderful idea! I love chess! Oh, I... I said that already, didn’t I? Follow me, I have a board in my study.” She got up and walked towards the door before pausing and coming back to the table, taking one more big gulp of wine before teetering back the way she’d just come. Glinting Steel obediently fell into line behind her. Celestia would say this for her sister, she trained her guards well.

“It isn’t far,” she said, more to herself than to her companion. She made a mental note to speak to the royal architect tomorrow morning; these floors were all slanted. Why else would she be finding it so difficult to walk in a straight line?

The walk from the dining room to her private study took easily twice as long as it usually did. The ponies she passed in the hall seemed to spare her a few more glances than usual, and even a double-take here and there, though none of them said anything. Soon enough, she reached her destination and pushed the door open.

Somepony had been inside since she’d last been here. The chess board was already laid out, and a log burned vividly in the fireplace radiating a pleasant warmth through the room. And along the eastern wall, a huge pile of pillows had been stacked in a disorderly heap. Celestia frowned, briefly wondering who would dare intrude on her private sanctum.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” asked Glinting Steel.

“I’m... not sure,” replied Celestia. Then she shook her head. What kind of an example was she setting? The professional mask reemerged to cover up her fleeting insecurity, and she settled on the far side of the board. “Never mind, it was just a passing thought. Now come, the first move is yours.”

Glinting Steel settled behind the two rows of white pieces, and after a moment’s consideration advanced a pawn forward by a pair of spaces. Celestia didn’t hesitate for a moment, opening with her knight. “Do you play often, Princess?”

She grinned. “Some days I feel like I do nothing else.”

“Any tips? If I’m playing you I’ll need all the help I can get.” He picked up a rook, paused, then placed it back down and moved his bishop instead.

Celestia thought for a moment, trying to keep track of the board which seemed to be moving under its own power. “I guess... I think the most important thing is to keep your feelings in check. The worst thing you can do is... is become emotional and take your eyes off your ultimate goal. Sometimes...” she pushed her rook into a position where she knew it would be taken next turn, “...sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Unpleasant ones.”

Glinting Steel looked across the board and frowned. “Why would you get emotional about that? They’re just pieces on a board, aren’t they?”

Celestia froze, and a haunted look crossed her face. “I keep trying to convince myself of just that, and for the most part I’ve been successful.” Silence filled the room. “I... I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Maybe Luna...”

When she trailed off, Glinting Steel perked up his ears for fear of missing something. “What about Princess Luna?”

Celestia shook her head, but stopped when she felt herself starting to lean dangerously to one side. “She just has some odd ideas. A bit of a busybody, to tell you the truth.”

Glinting Steel squirmed uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted was to get drawn into a dispute between his princesses, but he sensed he was about to anyway. “What sort of ideas?” he asked in the most neutral and noncommittal tone he could manage.

“I do what I must. Those sorts of personal indulgences... the greater good is what’s important. If I have to endure a few trivial insults and injustices, that’s not so bad in the grand scheme of things.” She stared down at the board, then with a flick of her hoof toppled her king. “It seems I’m not in the mood for chess after all. My apologies, I’ve come down with a bit of a headache.”

“Oh,” said Glinting Steel, leaping to his hooves. “Of course, you probably want some privacy. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Right, a big day. But it’ll be worth it in the end. It has to be.” She staggered over to the pillows, suddenly grateful that whoever had rearranged the room had the foresight to leave them there, and flopped down into them in a most undignified fashion.

Glinting Steel lingered awkwardly, not sure if he was supposed to stay or leave. He began to tiptoe out of the room, only for a field of golden magic to suddenly lift him into the air and pull him over towards the cushion. His eyes went wide as Celestia pulled him against her chest. “Uh... Princess?”

“I promised them,” she whispered. “I promised them there would be justice. That the responsible party would someday answer for all the carnage. For all the stupid, senseless loss. But they’re gone now too, and... does it even matter any more? If breaking my promise leaves everypony else better off? I’m the only one who even remembers it.”

The room grew quiet. “I don’t have any good answers, princess. But I think that if it were me, just the fact that you remember your promise at all would mean a lot.”

The only answer from Celestia was a gentle snore.

An hour later, Luna poked her head through the study door. She grinned at the scene in front of her. Glinting Steel perked up, looking over from where he was pinned between the slumbering alicorn and her nest of pillows. “A little help? I’m sort of stuck.” Luna just chuckled, and her head disappeared again. “Princess are you going to get help? Princess? Hello?” he asked. The door to the hallway and sweet, sweet freedom closed. “Anypony?”

There was no answer, only the warmth of the Princess next to him and the smell of moonberry wine on her breath. He sighed and settled in for the long haul. There were worse ways to spend the night.

Or Not

OR NOT

Celestia awoke, and immediately regretted doing so.

The first, most pressing thing she noticed was the awful, awful headache. She forced herself to look out the window, and saw that it was midmorning. Obviously Luna had taken care of the sun.

The same Luna who was sitting at her desk, reading from a scroll.

“Awake at last? Good morning,” she said. Celestia winced as the words struck her poor, unprotected ears. Did she really have to be that loud?

Her protests were adequately summed up by the groan that escaped her lips. “One glass, huh?” she asked.

“I did not say it was a normal, unenchanted glass,” replied Luna with what in Celestia’s opinion was completely unwarranted smugness. “You needed a slight nudge to loosen yourself up, and I provided it. Still, imagine my disappointment when I learned that after I sent you two off to ‘play chess,’ you began to actually play chess. Really, could I have been any more transparent? Or was he simply not to your liking?”

“Wait...” everything that had happened the night before began to come back to her in bits and pieces. Some of which were very embarrassing. “Please tell me I didn’t do what I think I did.”

Luna grinned. “Oh, you did. Not nearly as much as you should have done, but it’s a start.”

“This... this is an unmitigated disaster,” moaned Celestia. “Damage control. We need to make sure this doesn’t get out. Can you imagine the scandal?”

“Oh yes,” said Luna, finally putting the report down. “I can foresee the headlines already. Princess and Royal Guard Snuggle With Extreme Prejudice. The Shocking, Lewd, and Explicit Details on Pages Four Through Seventeen. Surely, it will be only minutes before such a revelation sends Equestria spiraling into the throes of madness and anarchy. Imagine if you’d gone so far as to have kissed him! There wouldn’t be enough torches and pitchforks in all of Canterlot.”

“Be serious. Our subjects entrust us with our authority so we can advance the common good, not so we can sexually harass the servants. I need to at least apologize to him.”

Luna scoffed. “‘Serious’ is exactly your problem. Besides, half of Equestria already believes you have a secret harem hidden away in some wing of the palace, and half of that half would apply for a position in it if they could.” She paused, and a cheshire grin spread over her face. “Perhaps several positions, should you prove flexible enough.”

Celestia felt a heat spread over her face that had absolutely nothing to do with controlling the sun. “The last thing we need right now is a distraction, not with the summit...” Her eyes went wide. “The summit! I need to sign the pardon.”

At the realization she was really going ahead with that, a bitter taste leaked into her mouth, and she wrinkled her nose. “That’s truly what you wish to do then? Surrender to their demand just to bring them to the negotiating table?”

“It’s...” Celestia sighed. “If that’s what it takes. It isn’t important, in the long run.”

“But it is important to you,” said Luna. When Celestia didn’t answer, Luna walked over and settled onto the cushions next to her, and nuzzled her cheek. “You have a good heart, sister. You should try listening to it sometime, and not just your head. Sometimes what’s right is what feels right, even if it doesn’t make the most sense.”

“I...” Celestia trailed off. “I have to sign it. But I don’t know if I can.”

“I know,” said Luna. “That’s why I already signed it for both of us.”

“You what?”

“I looked into your eyes yesterday, and I saw pain. I know you, Tia. If you signed it you would feel guilty for months, and if you didn’t sign it you’d wonder with every report that came in from the border if the summit wouldn’t have fixed things. Plus, your signature is easy to forge.”

“Luna! You can’t do that,” shouted Celestia. She immediately winced. Too loud. Much too loud.

“Oh? I cannot? I do wish you had told me so sooner. How embarrassing, to attempt a thing which one is incapable of, and through sheer ignorance succeed.” She kissed Celestia gently on the forehead. “You are welcome. Again.”

“That was completely inappropriate of you to do. Especially without asking me first,” said Celestia, glaring at her unrepentant sister. Then she softened. “Thank you.”

Luna giggled, and draped a wing over Celestia as the two shared a moment. Soon enough, the realities of rulership would have to be addressed. Right now, though, it was just a moment between sisters, and Celestia reminded herself that even though she bore the weight of a whole kingdom on her shoulders, she didn’t carry it alone. Eventually, just like everything else, it came to an end. “Good luck in the negotiations today. Do try not to die of boredom.”

Celestia groaned. “Yesterday we spent ninety minutes crafting our proposal for quotas on the import of emeralds. If it were possible to die of boredom, I already would have done so.” She twisted her head to one side and spread her wings, feeling a very satisfying crack as she stretched herself out and rose to her hooves. “Still, I should go prepare. I’m sure their ambassador will want to get started as soon as possible.”

Luna yawned. “Wake me if you have need of me. I’m going to bed.” She trotted out of the room, but stopped in the doorway. “Remember, Tia. Listen to your heart.”

“I doubt it has much to say on the subject of tariffs, but I will,” replied Celestia. With a final smile, Luna left for good. Humming to herself, Celestia gathered up her notes for the summit. There was just enough time for coffee, then she had a job to do.

One much-needed mug of coffee later, Celestia braced herself for the meeting to come. She approached the conference room where the negotiations were to be held. As she approached, she noticed West Wing standing before the doors, visibly trembling.

“Is something the matter, my little pony?” she asked, a note of concern the only sign of the panic she was valiantly suppressing.

“It’s... it’s...” West Wing sniffled and wiped a tear away from his face. “I take full responsibility, Princess. I’m prepared to offer you my resignation, if you’d like. I know how hard everypony worked on this.”

“Calm yourself, West Wing,” said Celestia. “Now start from the beginning. What happened?”

“It was the griffins,” he replied. “After the royal pardon was released to the press, they arrived early to get settled. And... and they...” Celestia waited patiently for him to collect himself enough to continue. “They said the flags were the wrong color.”

“The flags? I’m quite familiar with the flag of North Griffonia.”

“Well, they said they were the wrong shade of white. They said that... that they were insulted we didn’t even get their national colors right.”

“Oh, for goodness sake. Where’s Ambassador Ebon Beak? We’ll clear this right up.” Just another little annoyance. They probably thought that feigning offense would give them a leg up in the upcoming negotiations.

“No, Princess, you don’t understand. They left. They called the whole summit off and just... left.” West Wing sniffled. “I’m so sorry. I should have double checked the flags. You’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the day.”

Celestia stood there in stunned silence. Months of work, all for nothing. Even when she’d been willing to meet them halfway, and offer them a mutually beneficial arrangement. There was no reason for them to pull a stunt like this. They had nothing to gain by embarrassing her in front of her subjects.

And they had gone ahead and done so anyway.

“I have no intention of accepting your resignation,” she finally said. “This is by no means your fault. Now, please excuse me.” She spread her wings.

West Wing frowned. “Uh... where exactly are you going, Princess?”

Celestia glared out a nearby window. “To take some advice.”

Ebon Beak settled in his seat as his carriage rolled out of Canterlot’s city limits. All in all, it had been a very worthwhile trip. He chuckled at the naivete of those foolish little ponies. Ever so eager to share and compromise. Always trusting that they were one meeting, one shipment of food aid, one conference from being friends. And they were always wrong.

What they never seemed to grasp was that his people, or the few elites who actually mattered, didn’t want to be friends. Why would they? The ponies were weak. That’s why they’d failed to conquer the empire so long ago, and why they were still so easily warded off despite being bigger, wealthier, and more technologically advanced. A smile crossed Ebon Beak’s face. He’d return home a local hero, and the Emperor would shower him with riches and favor. The ponies, venerating the undeniable greatness of General Sharpclaw, even after he’d led the army that had so nearly slaughtered them all? The propaganda practically wrote itself. And the best part was that there wouldn’t be any negative consequences, beyond perhaps a sternly-worded letter arriving at their embassy in the coming weeks. There never was.

Then the carriage stopped.

“What’s the hold up?” called out Ebon Beak. “I want to be out of Equestria by nightfall. This place makes me sick to my stomach.”

There was no answer for a minute. Then the carriage door opened to reveal a large, glowing, thoroughly pissed-off alicorn princess. “Ambassador,” she said levelly, in contrast to the smoldering arcs of power crackling around her horn. “You are late for our meeting.”

Despite the display, Ebon Beak didn’t back down. In fact, he just smiled even more broadly. “That meeting is cancelled, I’m sure your servants must have told you. The offense you’ve already heaped on my country is not being helped by your detaining me, either. Refusing to allow a diplomat free passage and intruding into a protected carriage is a serious breach of protocol.”

“True,” said Celestia, “and if that upsets you, you’re going to hate what’s coming next.” With that she wrapped him up in her magic and sent him crashing through the carriage's window.

He landed hard, twisting a wing in the process, and stared up at the princess towering over him. “The Democratic People’s Republic of Griffonia will not tolerate—”

“And that’s another thing!” interrupted Celestia. “You’re a dictatorship! Own up to it! And even then you can’t get a damn thing done right! For eighty years, eighty years, I have extended my hoof in friendship to you again and again. And every time, you spit on my offer and find some way, some tiny, almost inconsequential way, to make me regret doing so. You have raised being a nuisance to an art form and I! AM! TIRED OF IT!” The sudden increase in volume was a physical force that sent him sliding across the wet grass, staining his feathers green in the process.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” sneered Ebon Beak. “Our soldiers are ready to go to war again on a minute’s notice. We were unbowed after the last time, and you remain as weak as ever. Do you wish to see Baltimare wreathed in flames once again?”

He was not prepared for what happened next, for Princess Celestia to burst out in laughter. “Oh, goodness, you really believe that. You have made a very, very grave mistake. You saw mercy, and mistook it for weakness. We repelled your invasion force, and chose not to take the fight to you. Because my people were tired, and hurting, and I was sick of seeing good ponies die. I never had any desire to slaughter your families. At least, I didn’t until now.” She looked down on the ambassador and, on impulse, lashed out with a foreleg to slap him across the face. “I am a just and fair ruler, and I like to think myself a friend to the gentle and innocent. But we are at war. Perhaps we have not acted on it for generations, but I need no new proclamation to restart it.”

“You’re bluffing,” stammered Ebon Beak, his earlier confidence failing him. “We’ll kill five ponies for every griffin you take down.”

“You will not,” said Celestia, “because this will not be war as you know it.” She looked across the field to where a large boulder sat, minding its own business. With a quick glance back at the griffin to make sure he was watching, Celestia’s horn flared.

The wrath of the sun itself descended from the sky in a column of light, heat, and fire. When it cleared, the boulder was a puddle of quickly-cooling slag at the bottom of a freshly-carved crater.

“I will pour molten death over your cities. Your great works? Arts? Accomplishments? They will all burn. I will visit such atrocities upon your people that the screams of your babies will haunt my nightmares for centuries. I will become something I hate, and soak my hooves in so much blood that my coat will be red for the rest of eternity. And it will be worth it because I am just that sick of your bullshit!”

The ambassador sat in stunned silence for a moment, until a tiny squeak finally escaped his mouth.

“Or,” said Celestia, her tone suddenly friendly and reasonable again. “You turn this carriage around, return to Canterlot, and we negotiate an end to this stupid war. No more baby steps or half measures. A final accord.”

“Our emperor will never accept such a thing,” said Ebon Beak.

“Then you will explain to him, using the very smallest words you can because your ‘emperor’ is the thickest, most insufferable moron who I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, that he can have a sudden change of heart or I can tear his heart from his body myself. His choice.”

He gulped. There was no bluff in the princess’ eyes. “Uh...” She narrowed her glare as Ebon Beak’s objections withered away unspoken. “How about we... pick up this peace summit tonight after dinner?”

Celestia considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I’m glad we cleared up this little misunderstanding. Let’s plan to meet first thing tomorrow morning, though.” She spread her wings and prepared to depart. There was lots to do. “I have plans for this evening.”

An hour later, Glinting Steel arrived to begin the night shift. He’d managed to slip away from Princess Celestia in the early hours of the morning, and nopony had mentioned anything about the incident. It was looking like he’d be able to put it behind him, and pretend it had never happened.

Or so he thought before he opened his locker and found a note pinned to the inside.

You.

Me.

Chess.

Now.