...Nor the Battle to the Strong

by MagnetBolt

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life
Length: 4431

Commander Astrid has been sent to Canterlot under the guise of having peace talks, but her mission isn't what it appears to be. Honor demands blood and sacrifice, and honor is the only thing her people have left.

Equestria and the Griffon Republic have been at war since before it even was a Republic. The griffons have always been on the losing side of that war. Commander Astrid has been sent to Canterlot under the guise of having peace talks, but her mission isn't what it appears to be. Honor demands blood and sacrifice, and honor is the only thing her people have left.

Written for a certain Equestria Daily contest, with the challenge of writing about ponies from the perspective of a non-pony.

Warning: Contains significantly less EXPLOSIONS than my usual stories. I wanted to try doing something a bit more calm and slice of life than usual.

Published 2014-08-15 04:10:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-15 04:10:04 UTC

A Matter of Honor

Commander Astrid stood and looked down at the table, lost in thought. She would have sat, but the seats had all been designed with ponies in mind, and were uncomfortably small for a griffon. Besides, she thought better standing up, as was befitting of a military officer. The room, a private conference room in the castle, had been cleared for the high-level talks that were due to start almost an hour ago. The room was stuffy and hot, most of the light coming from a large stained-glass window overhead.

What she was thinking about right now was the map that was spread out over the table. Equestria was prominently displayed in the center, the other nations scattered around it. The Crystal Empire here, close to Equestria's northern border and marking this as a very recently made map. To the far east, across the sea, the Griffon Republic. Between them, islands that had been contested for so long by both sides that more griffons and ponies had died defending them than had ever actually lived on their rocky shores.

It was identical to the maps Astrid had studied in the Republic before coming to this peace conference. Identical in every way, including the placement of Equestria in the center of the map. It was well known that the ponies had the best cartographers and the most advanced printing equipment in the world, and it only made good sense to buy maps from them.

A long time ago, the Republic, then the Kingdom of Gryphonia, had its own maps that put them in the seat of the world. But that had been hundreds of years and dozens of border wars ago, not all of them against Equestria.

Astrid fluttered her wings. It was too cold here. Cold and bright. But that made sense with the ponies. They were cold, bright creatures themselves. They didn't have passion or rage, keeping their emotions in check far more close than a griffon would. When they killed, they didn't do it out of spite or for glory. They did it because it was a logical end result.

That fact scared Astrid more than being in what was nominally enemy territory, not that Equestria and the Republic were at war in any official way.

The griffons had made war on Equestria before. Each time, they had been beaten back until it seemed one final push would end them forever. And each time, the ponies had stopped, forced them into a peace, and turned around to offer aid for those that had been hurt in the fighting.

And so griffons were raised learning from Equestrian textbooks and using Equestrian maps and following Equestrian fads. Astrid's first blanket when she had been a chick had been hoof-stitched by a pony.

“Ah, Commander Astrid. I apologize for the wait. There was a minor difficulty at my school.” Princess Celestia stepped in, her coat gleaming as if he was glowing from within. Guards followed at her side, not that they were needed. She was more than potent enough to defend herself against an army. The largest foothold the griffons had ever managed in Equestria had been the South Jungle. They called it the Badlands now. Nothing would grow there ever again, because they had angered a god.

The griffons had once had gods. They had been tyrants who had forced the griffons into slavery, building temples in their honor and demanding blood sacrifices to ward off disaster. The griffons had killed their gods, in the end.

“It's nothing, your Highness,” Astrid said. If a griffon made another one wait like that, it would be a sign of great disrespect. One didn't manage to become a Commander by challenging the Sol Invictus to an honor duel, though. Typically all that did was send a griffon very quickly to meet their ancestors.

“Would you like some tea before we start?” Celestia asked. Astrid's tail flicked. Hot leaf water. She'd never acquired a taste for it.

“No, thank you. Some water would be fine, though.” Refusing a gift entirely, even one unwanted, was rude. To take the tea and not drink it was similarly rude. The water was an easy compromise that would allow both host and guest to save face.

“I thought you might prefer something else,” Celestia said, with a smile. “I have some rather strong coffee if you would like that. I'm told it's from the Zebrican Blue fields.” Astrid's tail flicked again. A pound of that coffee would be more than her salary for a year. Coffee was one of her weaknesses, and this was the best in the world.

“I could hardly refuse,” Astrid said. A cup and saucer were set before her. Celestia had anticipated this, too. The coffee was already brewed, and cream and sugar were set between her and the Princess, though the griffon preferred to take this cup black. It was, after all, likely the only time she'd ever get to sample it.

“Excellent. Now that we're a little more comfortable, I was hoping we could speak about some recent naval movements.” Celestia looked to her side, and a pale yellow pony unrolled a scroll over the map, showing a more detailed view of the islands that formed the contested part of the border between the Republic and Equestria. Lines and markers were drawn across the map, showing fleet movements.

“I'm told they are training exercises,” Astrid said.

“That's interesting. I've heard otherwise.” Celestia calmly looked at the marked map. “My military advisors are telling me that this is a build-up as a prelude to the invasion of three islands which are currently inhabited by ponies.”

“It would be a foolish gambit,” Astrid replied, after a long drink of coffee to gather her thoughts. “Those islands are heavily defended, and those fleets would suffer heavy losses if they even managed it at all.”

“And we would reclaim them quickly,” Celestia added. Astrid was forced to nod in agreement.

“That is likely true,” Astrid said, the coffee cooling off. She found she no longer liked the taste of it. They sat in silence for a few moments, Celestia waiting for Astrid to continue. “Your intelligence branch always was better than ours.”

“Yes, it is,” Celestia agreed. “But lately we've had a lot of help with that. The number of defectors from the Republic has been steadily increasing since the famine started.”

“There is no famine,” Astrid said, quickly. It was the official state line. The Republic did not discuss its problems with the outside world.

“You've had a famine for almost two years now,” Celestia said. “Which would be bad enough if the Zebricans weren't using the opportunity to push your shared border. Even before you decided to undertake these training exercises your military was strained. So why would you be trying to open up a war on two fronts, one of them against an enemy you've never been able to defeat?”

“That is-” Astrid met Celestia's gaze and looked away, ashamed.

“You know, a few centuries ago, you griffons wouldn't have bothered coming to anything like peace talks,” Celestia said, abruptly changing the subject. “I remember how hard it was to get you to surrender with that first war. Over ninety percent of fighting-age griffons died before the rest surrendered. I count it among my greatest failures.”

“Most would consider that a great success,” Astrid said, quietly.

“If I had wanted to kill griffons, certainly,” Celestia agreed. “But that seems a counter-productive goal. When you aren't trying to kill my subjects you're one of our largest trading partners, and we were allies when the Cervi Dominion attempted to invade the Republic and Zebrica.”

“It was a different time,” Astrid said. Almost a century ago. For her it was something that her grandfather might talk about. To the ruler of Equestria, though, it was still recent events. The end of the Cervi Wars had marked the highest point of prosperity for the Republic. Their borders had been open, goods and knowledge had freely flowed between the nations.

“I suppose it was. In those days, your leaders wouldn't have sent ships full of the infirm and elderly as an invasion force.”

Astrid seized up at that, her talons digging into the table.

“Before we met, some of our border patrols performed a cargo inspection of your ships.” Celestia put her tea aside. “Even if you had intended this to be a real invasion, for some foolish reason, those griffons are hardly fit to be fighting. So tell me why they're there.”

“...To die honorable deaths,” Astrid said, closing her eyes. She felt like a fool. Celestia already knew everything that was going on. And that would mean that the plan would fail.

“There's more honor in life than death,” Celestia said. Astrid could feel her disapproving gaze like a beam of harsh sunlight burning into her feathers.

“It wasn't my decision,” Astrid opened her eyes and looked at the maps. They didn't show what was really going on in the Republic. Or at least these maps didn't. She had a feeling there were other maps, in rooms that diplomats and foreign generals weren't allowed to visit.

“We know what you were planning,” Celestia said. “You were going to provoke us into war, sacrificing all those lives. It's not a war you can win, either. You were planning on losing.” Celestia picked up the map with her magic, glancing over it.

“The boats are full of volunteers who are doing their duty for the Republic.” Astrid felt like she was getting smaller, like she was being scolded by a superior. Celestia had that effect on people, no matter if they were ponies or griffons.

“You want Equestria to invade you.” Celestia stated, bluntly.

“...We can't beat the Zebricans,” Astrid whispered, putting her head down on the table and looking away from Celestia. She felt like she was betraying her nation. “Our defensive lines are all but broken. They say they're trying to reclaim land that used to belong to their people, but they won't stop there.” Astrid glanced at the world map, her own nation almost a footnote, just a name to the side, the map not even bothering to show their lands further east.

“So why try to provoke us?” Celestia asked, bluntly.

“Because if you invade, it won't mean griffons dying in the streets from hunger, or becoming slaves to the Zebricans, or worse. The Republic Senate decided it was better to lose to an honorable foe who would choose to defend their new land against aggression than the barbarians at our doorstep.” Astrid rubbed her eyes, feeling tears forming. She was crying, right in front of her enemies. If she had any honor left it was gone now.

“You could have just asked for help,” Celestia said, softly. Astrid squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the tears to stop. There was a sudden warmth at her side, and before she realized what had happened, Celestia had put a wing around her.

“We can't ask for help. Especially not from old enemies,” Astrid whispered. “We have nothing left but our honor. We have no great armies left. We cannot feed our people. Would you have us lose even the last scraps of honor, begging for help? It's all we can cling to with pride.”

“You know, it isn't too late to change that.” Celestia smiled. “Those ships aren't going to be attacking Equestria. They've already been brought to port peacefully, with no one – pony or griffon – being hurt.”

“Then we have nothing to discuss.” Astrid sat up.

“Yes we do. Just because there isn't going to be a war doesn't mean the peace talks are cancelled.” Celestia sighed. “In fact, it seems like the best time to start them. Equestria would be more than happy to help settle your border dispute, and famine relief is something I've wanted to look into for some time, though every time I bring it up, whatever diplomat the griffons send insists it isn't needed.”

“We were going to invade you!” Astrid yelled. “Don't you even care?!”

“If I didn't care I would have told you your plan had failed, then had you escorted out of the palace. Instead we're talking about how I can help, because I care.” Celestia stepped back, folding her wings neatly at her sides. “The hardest step is always the first. The Republic and Equestria have a lot of shared history. We've been allies almost as often as enemies, even if it was... what's the expression you use... at talon's length.”

“It would break us to accept help like that.”

“Is it dishonorable to accept help when a friend offers it?”

“Of course not. But we're hardly friends.”

“Eventually, old enemies are the same thing as old friends. You learn about each other, grudging respect and admiration mix and become the same thing. You become close, because they've been a part of your life for so long.” Celestia sighed, her smile fading. “I think any enemy can be your friend, if you try. Even an ancient foe.”

“...And you think that can just happen overnight? Enemies becoming friends?”

“Yes,” Celestia said, smiling radiantly. “I know it can. It just takes one act of kindness, a word of forgiveness, and two people who are finally ready to talk about their differences.”

Astrid shook her head, laughing. “I'll never understand you ponies. How can you really believe that?”

“I have to,” Celestia said, looking up at the stained glass window set in the ceiling. On it, a white mare surrounded by a rainbow of colors was striking down a black mare. Celestia's expression changed slightly, though Astrid couldn't place exactly what it meant. “It's the only thing that keeps me from giving up.”

A Matter of Time

“Berthi! Get down here!” Astrid yelled, looking up the stairs. She was a little older and much wiser than she had been, more than a decade ago. “Your teacher sent another note home from school!” She waited as a door opened quietly.

“I-it's no big deal, mom!” Berthi said, as she stepped out onto the landing, head down. Her back hooves made light tapping noises as she walked down the stairs. Her wings fluttered as she looked up at her mother. Where her front half was almost identical to Astrid's, aside from the color at the tips of her primaries, her back half was the pastel blue of her father.

The hooves were from his side of the family, too.

“No big deal?” Astrid raised an eyebrow. “You pounced on Golden Mean in the middle of class and tried to pluck her like a chicken!”

“She was being mean to Chandelle!” Berthi protested. “She was shooting spitballs at her and the teacher wasn't doing anything about it!”

“Did you even try telling the teacher before you decided Golden Mean was the perfect thing to add to your lunch?”

“Mom! I wasn't going to eat her! And I told the teacher about it before. She just tells Golden Mean to stop and never does anything about it! Even if she did stop she'd just do something worse later, like the time she filled Chandelle's lunch box with raw rainbow goop.” Berthi pawed at the floor with a talon, not looking her mother in the eye. “She doesn't listen, and I thought if I showed her I was boss, that it would make her stop.”

“You know it doesn't work that way,” Astrid said. “Now you're in more trouble than she is, and the next time you try and tell the teacher about her, she's gonna cry and complain about how you're always mean to her.”

“But it's not true!” Berthi yelled, looking up and flaring her wings in alarm.

“So? You're the one who attacked her. The teacher's gonna remember that.”

“It's not fair!” Berthi stomped a hoof and looked up at Astrid with tears in her eyes. “You said that protecting your friends is important, especially when nopony else will stand up for them!”

Astrid hesitated. “Come over here.” She turned and put the note from the school with the rest of the mail and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her.

Berthi walked the rest of the way down the stairs and followed, head down, before getting up on the couch sullenly. She smiled and patted Berthi on the head, ruffling her feathers.

“So what am I supposed to do when Golden Mean is being a jerk to Chandelle?” Berthi asked, smoothing her feathers back down.

“You tell the teacher what she's doing. And if she keeps doing it, you keep telling the teacher.” Astrid folded her talons. “It might not be as satisfying as pulling her coverts out backwards but it's better than starting a fight you can't finish.”

“I could too finish it,” Berthi pouted. “And I warned her twice that if she kept being a jerk I was going to stop her.”

“Oh really?” Astrid smirked. “She's a year older than you.”

“Yeah but she's not as strong as I am.”

“So you're picking on ponies who are weaker than you are?” Astrid raised an eyebrow. “That's no way for my family's littlest warrior to act.” She sighed and shook her head. “What happened to honor?”

“I didn't attack her without warning a-and I didn't ambush her!” Berthi protested. “It was a fair fight!”

Astrid shook her head. “You already knew you were stronger. It's honorable to fight those who are stronger than you, not those who are weaker. A coward attacks when he cannot lose. A warrior attacks when he cannot win.”

“But that's stupid. Why would you fight if you knew you were going to lose?”

“It's not always about winning and losing. Sometimes you fight because what you're fighting for is more important than anything else. I used to fight because I thought what mattered was my honor, and I was willing to sacrifice anything for it. But you know what I learned?”

Berthi shook her head.

“If you only fight for some abstract idea of honor, you forget why honor matters in the first place. Trying to help your friend was the right thing to do. But if you go around beating ponies up, you're going to be a bully like Golden Mean. You don't want that, do you?”

“But I'm not a bully!”

“Good. I know you're having a hard time fitting in,” Astrid said, quietly. “I had a really hard time when I decided to live here instead of the Republic.”

“Why did you leave, mom?” Berthi looked up at her. “Was it because of dad?”

“Platinum? No. It was before I met him.” She smirked. “The truth is, I made a lot of griffons angry. Your grandma and grandpa thought I was a very bad griffon, because I decided to do things they didn't like. It took a while for them to forgive me, though I think when they saw how cute you were, that helped more than anything I ever did.” She pinched Berthi's cheek. The hippogriff groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Mom! Stop it!” She pushed her mother's talon away.

“I was only going to stay here temporarily until things calmed down,” Astrid explained. “The Princess was letting me stay in the castle, and your father was one of the guards that kept watch in that part of the castle.”

“I bet you fell in love at first sight!” Berthi said, her eyes glittering.

“...Not quite. I didn't even notice him for months. Then he started inviting me along to the tavern. He said it was just 'one soldier to another'. One night I'd had so much cider and ale that he almost needed to carry me back, and I was feeling lonely, and one thing led to another- well, I'll tell you that story when you're older.” Astrid blushed. “We got married a year later.”

Astrid pointed to a framed photo of the wall of the two of them on their wedding day. Celestia was there behind them, smiling that same smile she always had. It had taken Astrid a long time to realize that Celestia didn't smile so much because she was looking down at ponies, or hiding behind a mask. She genuinely cared about all those little moments in their lives.

“It was a pretty big deal at the time,” Astrid said, looking back to Berthi. “It was the first time there'd been a wedding between a griffon and a pony in a long while, and it was at a time when we weren't sure we'd be able to get along with each other. But things worked out in the end.”

“T-then why are you and Dad always fighting?” Berthi asked, picking a loose thread out of the couch and not looking at her mother.

“What are you talking about?” Astrid frowned, tilting her head. “We never fight.”

“I hear it at night a-and I've seen Dad all scratched up. And there was the time his hip broke and he told me it was because you were wrestling! I know he was just pretending you were playing, but it was really a fight!”

Astrid slowly turned red. She remembered when his hip broke. “No, honey. We weren't fighting. You see your father and I love each other very much.” Her tail whipped and twitched with nervous energy. “And sometimes I get very excited and ponies are more fragile than griffons and I forget that and- and I'll explain when you're older!” Astrid flapped her wings, trying to cool down and stop blushing.

“But you say that about everything!” Berthi pouted.

“What if instead we... go out and get ice cream?” Astrid struggled to find something that would distract her daughter. The young hippogriff gasped and stood up.

“Does that mean I'm not in trouble?!”

Astrid growled. “No. You're still in trouble.”

“Then why are we going out for ice cream?”

“Because.. you won a battle fought to defend another. It's about honor.”

“Oh!” Berthi smiled, apparently appeased by that explanation. Astrid sighed with relief. Thankfully her daughter was in a phase where she'd gotten enamored with the idea of honor. At least it had gotten her distracted from awkward questions. “And then you can tell me why daddy keeps getting hurt?”

Or maybe she wasn't nearly as distracted as Astrid hoped. “...When your father gets home, he can explain it.”

“Okay!” Berthi hopped off of the couch and walked towards the door.

“Don't forget your scarf! It's cold out! I don't want you getting sick!”

“Mom!” Astrid grabbed a scarf from the hat rack near the door and tied it around Berthi's neck, the hippogriff struggling as she made sure it was neat and tight. “I look like a dweeb!”

“No, you look like my sweet little chick.” Astrid opened the door, blinking against the glare of the sun. She spread her wings, feeling the currents. It was chilly out. She'd never gotten used to the low temperatures that ponies liked. But she had gotten used to ponies.

***OOO***

“Astrid! I never thought I'd see you again, you trouble-making little hen.” Astrid turned to look. A black griffon with a scarred beak and his feathers on his right wing going white from old wounds.

“Uncle Belmond!” Astrid stood up, pushing back the too-small chair she'd been perched on. Berthi looked past her, confused, a spoon still in her beak. Astrid's uncle limped over to her and gave her a quick hug.

“And this must be my little grand-niece. I hope you're spoiling her.” He smiled and ruffled Berthi's feathers.

“Berthi, this is your great-uncle, Belmond. He's an old retired military bird.” He'd been old years ago, when poor medical care had left him grounded for almost a decade thanks to a wing injury that Equestrian medical care had healed.

“H-hello Mister Belmond!” Berthi said.

“You can just call me Uncle Bel,” Belmond said, grinning. “It's nice to finally meet you after all the stories I heard.”

“You should have said you were coming.” Astrid pulled out a chair for him. He looked at it for a moment before carefully trying to sit on it.

“I'll be here for a few days. I've got meetings with the weather managers to have some of their engineers brought out to build weather factories so we can permanently end the drought instead of just importing more rain. I thought I'd surprise you.” Belmond grinned. “Took me a bit to find you since you weren't home, but there aren't a lot of griffons here.”

“Not yet. Give it some time,” Astrid said.

“Mom! Can I go play with Chandelle?” Berthi asked. Astrid looked over, and saw her daughter's friend waving from across the street. Astrid returned the wave.

“Go ahead. Be home before dinner. And don't get in any fights!”

“If I do I'll make sure to win them,” Berthi said, seriously, before hopping down and running over to her friend, the two laughing and walking towards the cloud park. If it hadn't been for Celestia, Berthi never could have been born. Belmond would have died as a gesture meant to keep face. Astrid would likely be dead or in prison, instead of sitting outside of an ice cream parlor.

“Good enough,” Astrid said, smiling, though her daughter was too far away to hear.

“So what were you two doing here?' Belmond looked at the bowls on the table, sniffing at them disapprovingly.

“It's called ice cream. Try some.” Astrid offered him a spoon of her own dish.

“I don't know...” Belmond tilted his head.

“Come on. Might as well try pony food while you're in Equestria, right?”

Belmond shrugged and took the spoon, tasting the ice cream. His feathers stood on and and he gagged, dropping the spoon on the table. “Ugh! That's vile!”

“I know. It's so... sticky and soft and cloyingly sweet.” Astrid picked up the spoon, putting it back in her dish and getting another bite, looking at it closely.

“Just like the ponies.” Belmond noted, quietly.

“But you know what's really strange?” Astrid took the bite, savoring it as it melted on her tongue. “If you have enough of it you start to like it.”

“Even though it's too soft and too sweet.”

“Just like the ponies,” Astrid repeated, smiling.

Author's Note

I think I've poked at this for too long now. Once in a while it's nice to do something different, like international politics.

No editors or proofreaders, only griffons.