A round unvarnished tale of...

Hypothetical legions marched and clashed across the flattened face of Equestria, as defences and opposing banners rose and fell in an ever-shifting convolution of battle lines. Twilight Sparkle frowned as she surveyed the map spread out on the ancient table before her, finding that her force of Lunar Guard were now under the threat of encirclement. Strategy was a new field of study for her, but one like so many others before it she intended to conquer, the cordon of open and annotated tomes surrounding the fields of her mock campaign attesting to her determination.

Dull approaching hoofsteps sounded faintly in the silence, only made audible as they were amplified in the vaulted emptiness of the library beyond the private study. The main doors creaked open in the near distance and the steps resonated in the domes of the room’s ceiling, developing into two distinct sets coming closer, accompanied by a pair of voices.

‘Congrats again on the promotion by the way’ came the recognisable accent of Ditzy Doo to her unseen compatriot.

‘Thanks, but it’s not really an advancement,’ answered a familiar and yet not quite identifiable stallion’s voice, ‘more like glorified guard duty.’

‘Aww come on it’s not that bad. I know that looking on the bright side isn’t always your strong point, but try and give it a go for once. I’m sure you and Twi will get on great and you’ll probably be spending ninety percent of your time in here so it’s not like you’ll be bored. You’re as much a bookworm as she is’ Ditzy giggled.

‘I guess…’

‘Plus if nothing else the uniform suits you.’

‘Cheers Ditz’ said the stallion warmly, as their steps stopped just outside the study’s ajar doorway. ‘Before I forget, I got these for you and Dinky.’ The words were followed by a rustling of paper packaging. ‘Sorry they’re not muffins.’

There was a clatter of armour, likely the stallion receiving an unexpected hug and attempting to remain balanced. ‘Thanks VC, I’ll see you later.’

Twilight listened as Ditzy departed, hoofs again echoing and then oaken doors closing behind her, but just outside her room the second pony did not move. She listened as he drew in deep breaths, as if preparing to run a race, then three rapping knocks struck wood. ‘Come in.’

Recognition was not immediate as he entered, her visual memory being thrown off by the guard tunic and steely shell which had been absent when they had first met, but quickly dawned on her. The pair of blood red eyes she now faced, which she knew in spite of the helm currently concealing most of its features from view were set in a dark grey and black-striped face, struck a chord of familiarity. He had been there during her night-time departure from Canterlot, along with Ditzy, although she had not seen him since. ‘Hi again, it’s been awhile.’

‘Yeah erm… hi’ he began uncertainly, seemingly disarmed by her address. ‘Reporting for duty ma’am’ he saluted, re-discovering speech through official norms.

‘What?’ Initially lulled into an elevated sense of security by his lack of it, she now was rather taken aback.

It was now his turn to suffer the mild shock of her words, confusion being written across what little of his face was visible. ‘I was ordered to report to you as your bodyguard slash adjutant.’

‘What?’ Twilight found herself repeating her question. One: why had Luna not told her about this and two: why did she need a “bodyguard slash adjutant” anyway?

Silence descended between them, growing evermore tense until he chose to break it: ‘well this is kinda awkward.’

‘Yeah’

‘I’m sorry’ he apologised without any real cause. ‘I’ll just stand outside or whatever and I promise not to bother you.’ He started to back out with ears fallen flat against the crimson embarrassment glowing around his helmet’s cheek guards.

‘Wait’ she said, feeling a small pang akin to guilt when faced with his retreat. He was obviously as unsure of this whole situation as she was, but with the added pressures of proscribed duty and the sense of being the responsible party. At any rate she should try to make the best of this, at least until she could query Luna on what was going on. ‘Since I assume you’re supposed to stick around would you mind playing the part of the Solar Empire in this?’ she asked, gesturing over the map table strewn with counters and dice. ‘I reckon I’ll get more from the exercise if I’m strategizing against somepony other than myself.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ His gaze came back up to meet hers, his eyes having thrown themselves to the deck to stare at his own forehooves.

‘Can you stop calling me ma’am. You are allowed to call me Twilight you know.’

‘Sorry’

‘And enough with the sorries as well.’ It was beginning to feel like every other word he said was an apology. This was not truly annoying, but rather caused a small part of her to senselessly self-reproach.

‘Sorr…’ the word caught in his throat as he realised what he was saying.

She could not help but let out a laugh at this, raising a hoof to her mouth in an attempt to stop herself, however instead of a second uncomfortable flight which she expected in response from the nervous stallion, she instead received a tiny smile and nod in return. He now properly entered the room, circling the table so that they faced each other, removing his helmet as he did so. Again she found herself grinning. The sheer volume of his mane as it fell out of the heavy helm, creating a cascade of chaotic striped spikes, gained a certain comedic value through the seeming unfeasibility of its container.

‘It’s a far better show seeing me try to get it all back in again.’ He had obviously noticed her reaction.

The entirety of Equestria stretched between them, as Twilight began a rough explanation: ‘I’ve been told that this is supposed to be a bit like chess. Have you played before?’

‘A little.’

‘Well I’ve been using a mix of these two rule sets’ she said, levitating a pair of large tomes and a scribbled sheet towards him, ‘with a couple of alterations. You’ll also probably find this book useful, along with these notes I’ve made, this quick reference guide and list of possible successful objectives for each side. Oh I’ve also been using dice to determine events so you’ll need a set of them as well. I’ll reset the board while you take a look through that and…’ Twilight paused for a moment and realised that the one she was talking to had disappeared, almost entirely buried under a mountain of paper and parchment, neatly capped by a bag of dice. ‘Oops sorry.’

‘All cool.’ He excavated himself from the pile, selecting some of the many sheets and began flicking through them.

The two armies were again set in motion, separating and moving to occupy independent sides of the table. They were then broken down further, marshalled by an authoritative purple aura, into their various unit types, huddled together with their kin in the anticipation of fresh combat. Whilst preparing the board Twilight continued to talk: ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but you’re a zebra right?’

He looked up briefly from his skim-reading. ‘Half.’

‘And the other half?’

‘Night-pegasus’ he replied bluntly.

This explained his certain ‘off-ness’. She took a moment to get a better look at him, whilst his focus diverted entirely back to the pages. His stripes certainly said zebra, but in the absence of any bat-like wings the other side of his lineage was not immediately visible. Then it struck her: his eyes and teeth. In place of the rounded pupils, normal of other ponies, his were feline slits adapted to be nocturnal, whilst in his maw sat rows of jagged points. She had to admit that it was a strange combination of features. Questions about parents and other topics vied for position in her mind, but then she became aware of something far more fundamental. ‘I just realised I don’t know your name.’ His irises darted up from the text; somewhat set on edge by what she thought was a simple query. ‘I heard Ditzy call you VC?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s it short for?’

‘Oh… it doesn’t matter, VC’s fine.’

She paused, not needing to be particularly perceptive to see that she had struck a nerve, although it was not clear why, and she decided not to push it further.

‘Okay I think I’ve got an idea of how this all works,’ he broke into her contemplation, ‘how should we start?’

‘The Empire’s in the dominant position, so you should get to set up then I have to be reactive.’ She watched as VC began, carefully lifting each piece in turn he moved methodically, starting at the various towns and cities by placing defences and then assigning garrisons. Afterwards his concentration moved gradually outwards, layering his forces to cover one another. Her opponent was a walking set of intriguing contradictions. On the one hoof his form carried an anarchic air through the chaotic mess of his mane and the tail which mirrored it, along with the dark bands which criss-crossed his body, but all his actions were controlled and maybe even overthought. At the same time there was an intrinsic aggression in his features, such as his fangs, but all she had seen of him was a quiet closed nervousness. He was like a book which felt unsure about the idea of opening, in spite of or perhaps because of its cover, a trait made all the more apparent as he laid out all his pieces in an attempt to make his position unassailable. Looking over the hardened defences she already knew this was going to be a tough campaign.

There were very few moments when Silver Lightning regretted being a pegasus. Since his first flight all the moments he could spare, and a fair few that he could not, had been spent in the air. Flying was his paradise; it had been all he had ever really been good at. Performing mock stunt shows before friends and family had rapidly morphed into competing in every field he could enter, from simple races to aerial acrobatics, always pushing himself to go further. Summer flight camps, then the academy and now he was a Wonderbolt.

‘Ow! Be careful you idiot!’

His wings had given him everything, but right now, as he struggled with the intricacies of pulling thorns from the side of his increasingly aggravated leadpony, he could really appreciate how helpful a bit of magic could be. It would have been hard enough to succeed in the delicate task on stable ground; however both he and she were perched on branches near the top of the forest’s canopy, making it nigh impossible.

‘Hurry the buck up will you!’

Her foul mood was not helping much either. From the moment they had touched down on the edge of the woods it had steadily got worse and it was now near breaking point, causing him to flinch in anticipation of a hoof to the face with every wrong move he made. Finally he had the last barb between his teeth and slowly drew it out, careful not to form a hole in her flight suit’s fabric. ‘All done’ he said, relieved as he spat the needle like object away from him.

‘Took you long enough. Thanks though.’

A mass of flaming hair caught him in the face as his leader turned back round to face him. Everything about Spitfire was lit by the threat of fire: from the burning of her amber eyes, to the chaos of her yellow and orange mane and most especially her temper. He attempted to make his face go blank, not wanting to incur her already well-stirred wrath for any unseen reason.

‘Sweet Celestia I’m sick of this crap’ she began.

Internally he let out a calmed sigh, thankful that her anger was now once again focused outwards at the world instead of towards him. Outwardly he nodded in total agreement.

‘Roosting in trees like damned bat-ponies, having to march for miles for the sake of secrecy’ she continued to hiss. ‘Celestia I hate walking!’

Lightning continued to nod. He was well versed in how much she hated walking; in fact he had been made repeatedly aware of how much she hated walking with every step they had taken getting here. He did not mind the complaints however, as he knew exactly how she felt. It was not the distance or effort which bothered an athlete like her, but rather the pace. For those such as them, who spent their time in a constant quest for their next personal high, being forced to slow down for even a moment was a living nightmare. Even if he had not been on the same wavelength he still probably would not have minded listening to her, after all there were few better ponies to be stuck in a tree in the middle of nowhere with, particularly bearing in mind what lay over the immediate horizon.

The usual symphony of silence played amongst the library’s stacks, its melody broken only by the intermittent flutter of turned pages, forming a steady background tempo. The vast room’s sole two inhabitants, apart from the innumerable colonies of spiders nesting amongst the rafters, sat centrally on its floor, foregoing the inadequate space provided by the great many tables or desks, but spared from the chill of the stone slabs by the expanse of a large rug. They were both settled within a closed circle of finely bound pages, which created a high redoubt around the pair, amongst the organised carnage of their collective efforts. The biographies of Equestria’s early generals, accounts of great battles and tactical treatise, all from the age before harmony and studded liberally with bookmarks, vied for territory amongst notes and writing equipment. As per usual Twilight’s chosen research topic had grown into an obsession, except this time her obsessiveness was shared by that of her compatriot, with each improving as they aimed to best the other in mock combat. She briefly broke from the present tome she was perusing and selected a fresh notepad. All things considered it was peculiar how rapidly the enforced nature of their company had become indistinct and rather slipped into the bounds of normality instead, further smoothed by simple competition. There was increasingly less of a sense that he was there at Luna’s behest, although a level of awkwardness still occasionally crept in, inevitable due to his character and the professional nature of the association. A series of knocks sounded to exhume the two of them from their mirrored activity, each instinctively rising to their hooves in response.

‘It’s okay, I’ve got it’ VC said, carefully stepping over the battlements of literature.

She sank back to her haunches. If anything she expected it to be some piece of officialdom. Few ponies came to the palace’s library for anything else, which was unremarkable bearing in mind the present state of play, but at the same time seemingly surprising in the space which acted to banish all true conflict at its door. It was a strange form of bastion in spite of the realities of the world around.

‘Erm… Twi,’ VC began, having returned from his foray, ‘there’s somepony here to talk to you.’

Initially she was confused by his lack of detail. He would normally announce whoever it was, meaning that he either did not know or did not want to say. She again rose; crossing over the ramparts, but then was forced into stillness. Violet eyes searched pink across an empty gulf. A unicorn and a pegasus stood motionless like opposing pieces on an all but empty chess board: one a castle, methodical and regular, and the other a knight, filled with aggressive ability, but both left statuesque in their adversary’s gaze. As if unsure of whose turn it was the two of them gingerly moved forward, mirroring one another in a recoil at their joint action, before allowing their hooves to pass the small separating distance. The void gradually sealed, like stitching closed a wound, until the two were in a tight embrace, hanging on as if at any second they could be sucked back into the abyss there had been between them.

‘Twi I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.’ Rainbow Dash’s voice came as a shadow of its raucous self, thinned and muted, only capable of repeating its select few words, as if seeing itself as worthy of nothing more.

Twilight simply held her tighter in response, neither needing nor desiring any explanation of her friend’s appearance and only wanting to forget any separation there had been.

‘Soarin says they’re on their way’ a pegasus muttered from below, delivering the message ferried on a chain of voices through the dense foliage.

Lightning nodded his affirmation, the action instantaneously breaking the relative calm which had developed amongst the surrounding branches, as the squadron rapidly readied itself. All preparations were by now entirely mechanical and his body moved through them with little coaxing input: re-shouldering his saddlebags, checking each harness strap and finally lowering his tinted goggles. His actions were mirrored by all those around him, only partially visible in the dimness of the under-canopy. The weight of his bags hugged his middle, being a double aggravation through their heaviness and the way they ruined his air form. What was the point in the discomfort of wearing their flight suits if any speed gained was lost through what they carried? Far worse however was the metaphorical ball and chain which had to be worn on his lower foreleg. He raised his fettered limb, pulling tight each of the braces which held a spiked leg guard in place. Loathing was not nearly a strong enough term to describe how he felt about the implement, which simultaneously managed to get in the way, make him unbalanced and again add unnecessary weight. It was not as if he had any use for it, not having had to draw it in the past and in truth doubting its efficacy in any case. The blades just sat there, malevolently shackled to him. He was a flyer not a fighter.

Then there was silence, although inside the quickening drumbeat of his heart was fast rising in tempo as it boomed in his chest. Spitfire gave him a grin. This was that sacred instant when the body dumped the first load of adrenaline to flood its systems, causing every muscle to coil spring-like to attention. His leader’s lips moved, mouthing out the countdown. ‘Three. Two. One.’ Everything was at once in motion, a single wingbeat catapulting him through the branches. He shot upwards, easily crashing through a blur of green and into the clearness of the sky beyond. Close behind followed the rest of the squadron, shattering the outer canopy in a series of mushrooming plumes of swirling leaves. They chased one another vertically, but as much as they would have preferred to have raced ever onwards into the clouds high above, they knew they had to stop and break into a hover. Three swarms of pegasus met in the breezy gulf of the ether. Two faced each other, Lightning and Spitfire alongside their squadron opposite their counterparts led by Soarin and Silver Lining, whilst between them huddled a broken formation clad in purple. The Wonderbolts and their subordinates looked like a massive set of pincers, ready set to close around their prey. The trap had been sprung.

‘You are surrounded and outnumbered,’ Spitfire shouted, the sparks of her voice carrying clear across the expanse, ‘so I suggest you surrender.’

Lightning smiled to himself. She was of course right in her appraisal as per usual, with their combined forces being almost double the surprised enemy sortie, and if all went smoothly they could be back home before late afternoon.

‘Buck off!’

He sighed, the angry words deflating him utterly, before coming to the shock realisation that he recognised the voice which had defiantly yelled them. A similar confused look passed first over Silver’s and then Soarin’s face across from him, both staring searchingly into the cluster of surrounded pegasus. ‘Rainbow?’ The question formed soundlessly in Soarin’s mouth, creating both syllables a mere split second before a multi-coloured streak shot from the central group and hit the lead Wonderbolt. At the same time a purple tide followed suit, shouting battle cries as they stormed forward.

‘Bucking traitor!’ Spitfire screamed leading her own charge into the battle and closing the blue-suited noose, meanwhile Lightning just followed dutifully at her side.

Hard boards pressed up against Twilight’s muzzle, whilst the harsh scent of ink began its offensive against her nostrils. Her eyes opened into consciousness and were immediately faced by a wall of books, evidence of escapist nocturnal study before fatigue became overwhelming, whilst beneath her lay sheets of scribbled parchment dappled by the smudges of fallen tears. She raised her head from the angular pillow of the table, immediately regretting the decision as the dull ache of her previously settled jaw was overruled and replaced by a sharp twinge shooting through her spine. The fresh pain darted from the top of her neck to run the length of her back, as each of her joints was forced from their long set positions. She grimaced, feeling herself involuntarily tensing, and then relaxed once more, letting it all ebb away. It was then that she realised that she was wrapped in the snug folds of a blanket placed about her shoulders, without any knowledge of where it had come from. Further thoughts of solutions to this riddle were interrupted by the sound of snoring just beyond her ears’ reach, faintly entering the room through the shining cracks around the study’s doorway.

She raised herself to her hooves, letting the fleeced cover fall from her to the floor, and carefully approached the ajar portal, stepping through pools of light thrown into the darkened space from around its edges. Lightly pushing against the door, she let it swing outwards to the room beyond. Now peering between the well organised ranks of marshalled shelves, her sites fell on cluster of cushions set before a low desk, in which an unmistakable grey and black shape was sprawled, sunk deep into the already well-squashed pillows. The writing surface itself lay strewn with books, notes and a stack of used mugs, all hinting at a prolonged attempt to ward of sleep on the part of its user. For how long had he tried to remain awake? Technically it was his job to be at her beck and call, but there were limits to this. It had been quite a while since their first awkward introduction and she was well used to him hanging around, to the point that he sort of faded into the background, rivalling any palace guard. Was it bad that she had kind of forgotten about him? A small feeling of guilt certainly thought so, her mind producing images of herself leisurely working and then sleeping in the other room whilst he unknowingly fought against unconsciousness to wait on her. But then there was still the unanswered question of the blanket. It did not help that they had not really talked at all in a while, her own seclusion being far more inviting since…

The sound of VC’s heavy breathing changed its tone, becoming a gaping yawn as his limbs writhingly stretched and eyes opened tenderly, before snapping into focus. He immediately leapt to his hooves in startled dutiful movement, jolting himself to attention. ‘Sorry I drifted off ma’am’ he began.

Twilight shook her head, pushing away both the address and the needless apology; the tired stallion’s saying it only acting to cement a sense of responsibility. She had no desire to return to the overused black recess of her study, but at the same time the unbearable quiet which fell between them acted to repel her like a barricade. It was a fractured limbo which had to be overcome. ‘Do you fancy a game?’

Lightning trailed his hoof listlessly through the soft floor of grass and ferns, which carpeted the clearing in which he now sat, staining their stems as it passed. Instead of his saddlebags a wide bandage embraced his middle, far in excess of the few scrapes that it covered. A shape nudged his shoulder.

‘How’re you holding up?’ came Spitfire’s warm voice beside him.

‘Fine thanks, although you didn’t have to use every bandage in existence to bind me up.’

‘How about a bit more gratitude; do you have any idea how much someponies would give to have me play nurse?’ she laughed lightly before turning back to serious. ‘Then why the long face?’

He could only shrug, remaining sunk on his haunches. The blades on his forehoof, now well cleaned, glinted in the early afternoon sun, sending rays into his frowning face. His body ached slightly, but this was not because of his minor wounds or tiredness following the preceding exertion, rather he just felt weary.

‘Come on, you did good back there’ she said, as if reading his mind, giving him another reassuring nudge.

‘Thanks but…’

‘Look we came, we got the job done and now we’re gonna head home’ she continued. ‘There’s nothing more to it than that.’

‘How’s Soarin?’ he asked, thoughts going to their most serious casualty.

‘She did a real number on him that’s for sure. He’s probably gonna be upset that his pretty face is all messed up, but it’ll heal and he’ll live, which hopefully is more than can be said for her’ she spat.

He nodded. What little he knew of Dash came from various rumours of her abilities, which she had certainly shown to be true earlier, having previously only met her in passing, but by all accounts she and Spitifre were supposed to have been close. He finally turned, meeting the gleaming fire behind her amber eyes.

‘Today was pretty bleak and hay tomorrow will probably be more of the same, but what’s important is what comes after that, once everything’s back to normal. That’s the finish line which counts, and if we’ve got each other’s backs and keep going we’ll get there.’ She held out a hoof and he bumped it in return. ‘Race you back to camp!’

Spitfire’s wings extended and she leapt into flight, Lightning quickly on her tail. His heart was lifted with him and his mind allowed to float like the surrounding landscape of clouds, as the two pegasus broke into a sprint across the sky. She was right as usual. Doing what he loved in good company made everything else secondary. It mattered little. He revelled in the moment, feeling the wind ripple along him and letting the rush permeate his entire frame, as they flew side by side, each pushing the other ever onwards.

Fate, guided by the etched surface of rolling trapezohedra, continued to smile down on the army of the New Lunar Republic as they prepared their assault on the imperial capital. Through artful ambushes and a staunch refusal to hold territory they had suitably weakened their enemy’s numbers, so much so that they now felt confident enough to engage in pitched battle. It was entirely without glory but nonetheless effective. Now only the impregnable defences of Canterlot stood between them and the victory they craved. The anticipation was palpable, waiting only on the commander’s order to set the wheels in motion.

‘Your go Twilight.’

On cue the assault troops moved forward against their first obstacle: a palisade swiftly constructed by the defenders to bar all access to the city. Waves crashed against the barrier, caught in a storm of opposing magic, boring into the line to break it inward. Under the sheer weight of concentrated numbers a crack was formed, becoming an ever deepening and widening rupture as further units poured into it. It was at this stage however that the Empire released its airpower, a hoard of pegasus alighting from hidden positions to scream down on the attacking ground force. The charge bogged down under increasing casualties, success or failure being in the balance of who could control the skies. The Shadowbolts, kept in reserve for this very purpose, were therefore thrust into the fray against their light blue-uniformed counterparts.

Twilight paused, the counter she had been in the midst of moving left hovering in front of her face. In reality the two sides were nothing more than various scavenged or improvised coloured pieces, only differentiated by scribbled labels affixed to them. The one floating in her telekinetic aura however had been further personalised with pictures of a smiling winged skull and a lightning bolt, which together numbed her actions. Small as they were, the sketched images were a far too potent reminder of the rainbow-maned pegasus who had placed them there mere days before. Tears were not forthcoming, as if she had already expended her entire supply, but the painful heart which accompanied them held no such reservations.

‘Whatcha waiting for’ VC began, confused by the lull in combat, before realising its obvious cause. ‘Oh. Do you wanna stop?’

Twilight gestured in the negative with a shake of her head. This had been a nice change of pace and a light form of escape, but in one instant the agony of reality had intruded once more. She remained frozen.

‘For what it’s worth I’m sorry.’

Unlike with so many of the grey stallion’s previous apologies she could not bring herself to shrug or speak this one away. It was substantial, bearing with it something akin to concern but warmer. There was real care in the words, which many might have called alien or impossible bearing in mind the jagged maw which spoke them. ‘Who do you have as friends and family?’ she found herself asking and then being surprised when her reserved opponent answered.

‘Friends are few and far between, as here I only really know Ditz, although that’s quite a long story. In terms of family I’ve got a younger sister, but it’s been an age since I’ve seen her and in truth we have very little in common anyway.’

Her thoughts went to her own brother. How long had it been since she had seen him last?

‘I’m Vicious Cycle.’

‘Pardon?’ She was pulled from her thoughts by the strangely unprovoked words.

‘My name, it’s Vicious Cycle. You’ve put up with me for long enough, so the least I can do is tell you what VC stands for.’

The internal dictionary of Twilight’s analytical brain immediately began processing. Vicious Cycle: noun, meaning a reciprocating process by which two or more negative elements exacerbate one another, causing continuous degradation. She frowned.

‘Yeah it’s not particularly nice’ he said, agreeing with her look. ‘Equally it doesn’t make for particularly easy introductions.’

‘If you don’t like it why don’t you change it?’

He shrugged. ‘It may be unpleasant but it’s mine, plus it’s a pretty accurate descriptor. At the same time…’ he paused picking his words. ‘A spiral coils in both directions, it’s up to us whether we follow it up or down, although putting it like that sounded a bit deeper than I intended’ he joked with a small honest grin. ‘To most I’m just VC anyway. Names are always personal, mine’s just a little harder to share.’

The still hovering piece was allowed to come down, resuming the much needed counterattack. Pegasus formations met and danced to the sound of cascading dice, securing victory for the Republic’s initial skirmish. Marching hooves plunged into the city’s streets, sweeping aside a scattering of continued futile resistance, coming to a stop beneath the palace’s walls. The final adamantine rampart was in time breached by patient siege, its stony faces broken through, with defenders left bare behind. Twilight and her defeated opponent shared a smile, both ultimately victors.