Until that first meeting with Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle had never expected to see an alphyn. She had been so excited be tasked by the Princess to travel to the Palatinate of Phynland and negotiate a trade route agreement with the Grand Prince. A new land, as far as she’d ever travelled (if you didn’t count mirror dimensions), and new people to meet and to exercise her responsibility as Princess for something so important! That Cadance and Shining Armor – and Spike, of course! – were to accompany her as her support, not the other way around, was just the icing on the cake.
Of course, Twilight was widely read enough to know about alphyns; Mareodotus described them as “having bodies like unto lions, half as large again as a pony, but with the front legs of griffons and a snake’s tail” but the description was rather... inadequate, to Twilight's mind. For one, their heads were not really lion-like aside for the thick mane, as brightly coloured as any pony’s. Their muzzles were longer, the faces narrower, putting Twilight more in mind of a wolf or perhaps even a dragon’s head in shape, with two prominent incisors. Their front legs were more in truth somewhere between and eagle’s and a dragon’s; bare of fur below the knee and covered in scales. They terminated in three large talons and a rear-ward facing smaller forth one. Their fur, ranging from bright yellow to deep orange had prominent tufts at the shoulders, rear calves and rump, which were all as neatly styled and groomed as any Canterlot noble’s moustache.
And the description of their very long, delicate prehensile tail as “snake-like” was entirely unflattering. It had enchanted Twilight on that first day in Chasshall, the capital of Phynland, to see those graceful tails, perhaps two or three times the length of an alphyn if stretched out, roiling and curling over themselves and waving gracefully like serpentine flagpoles above each alphyn’s back. This impression was only heightened by the ribbons and streamers the alphyns attached to their tails. Alphyns possessed inherent magic, most akin in form to unicorn magic. When they used this magic, their tails lit with an aura like a unicorn’s and weaved in complex spell-patterns. Twilight had found it an absolute delight to witness.
After a week of dealing with quagmire of Chasshall’s stratified society, the political manoeuvring, pride, rituals and most of all, the stubborn smirk of the infuriating Prince Caldrast, Twilight wished she could just go home and never see an alphyn ever again.
“It’s like he’s deliberately goading us!” Twilight all but snarled as she stomped into their guest quarters. An equally weary-looking Cadance trotted in behind her, carrying an exhausted Spike on her back. The little dragon had insisted on staying with Twilight all through the negotiations, determinedly taking notes and acting as scribe, showing patience far beyond his years. Twilight has already decided he had earned a whole bucketful of gems at the first opportunity.
Her ire softened slightly, as Cadance laid Spike on the grandiose canopied bed. Pausing to tuck him into one side of the bed, she turned back to Cadance. Shining, bringing up the rear, quietly drew the canopy closed around the sleeping drake to give him what little privacy the room could afford.
“I mean, look at this,” Twilight continued, in a much quieter voice, gesturing around the room. On first inspection it looked opulent, though even Rarity might have preferred to call it “gaudy.” There was entirely too much red to be comfortable and Twilight was more than half convinced that this was deliberate, to make them all feel more angry. While it was not exactly a small room – Caldrast had at least to maintain some minimum standards – the two overly large canopied beds took up much of the space. On close inspection, the wooden furniture was just the right side of being rotten and beyond the veneer, the paint was faded and the metalwork tarnished. The attached ensuite bathroom was archaic, lacking a shower and dominated by an ornate copper bath which could only be filled by servants bringing buckets. The little space the bath left was barely big enough for one pony. All-in-all, the suite was uncomfortably small for three ponies and a baby dragon.
“This suite, if you can call it that! One room for all of us, and only two beds! So Spike has to sleep with me! And our poor staff have to sleep with the palace servants on the other side of the castle!”
Part of her felt guilty for complaining about this, the sensible part that said she should be grateful for whatever honours her station bestowed upon her. However, the more Rarity-like part of her reminded that part that the Prince’s proclamation that this suite offered as “grand a vista of the city” as anywhere in the palace also meant it was situated right next to the royal menagerie and not far from the market. Which had lead to several sleepless nights until finally Twilight had cast a silencing spell on the windows.
“Prince Caldrast has done everything he can to make us miserable without actually violating his precious rules and traditions! And he’s enjoying every minute of it!”
“I agree,” Cadance said, resting on the room’s sole divan and stretching her wings. “This has gone well beyond just being a diplomatic tactic to keep us off balance.”
“I’d say he was doing it to strengthen his position with other princes,” Shining added, floating a pair of fruit cocktail drinks to the two alicorns in his aura, before joining his wife with one of his own. “But even that doesn’t make a lot of sense. He’s the strongest leader the alphyns have had for centuries. And it can’t be personal; this is the first time Equestria has had official relations with Phynland for ninety years.”
Twilight paced irritably. “He’s done absolutely everything but directly throw us out. It’s not even like he’s just disinterested in the agreement! He just... wants to make us suffer! Like today!” The four of them had spent the entire day and into the evening – a late start, after the Grand Prince had shown up in his own time, of course – trying to work out the trade route negotiations.
The terms were, frankly, very favourable to Phynland. Equestria was prepared to pay handsomely in money and trade concessions to allow their proposed trade route to pass through Phynland. With the renewed conflict between Ungulasia and the Gagana Aeries, the only way for Equestria to import the exotic Golden Star Orchid they currently needed very badly was to pass through Phynland. The other alternative was no alternative: a longer and more arduous journey around the continent that would reduce the plant’s freshness and efficacy. Worse, it was a route that would pass far to close Necanis. And the Cusith were far too well informed to allow such a prize to pass their doorstep unhindered, especially when it was one so important to whom they considered their only true rivals.
Prince Caldrast had dragged out the negotiations for hours, claiming this concession would upset this group or this guild or that organisation, and that one this one, until Twilight felt like she was trying to pilot a boat through uncharted reefs at high speed. But they made slow progress. Caldrast did not even appear to be making it impossible, just very difficult. And, when they had finally successfully navigated through the morass of alphyn politics, and it appeared that the Prince had run out of legitimate objections... he decided it was too late and he was too tired to continue.
All of this might have been bad enough, but Caldrast was really making no attempt to hide the fact that he was doing it all on purpose. Every time he found one more reason to drag things out or find some new way to politely snub them, it would be with that damned half-smirk. That smirk that said he knew that the excuses he came up with were flimsy, concealed under the thinnest veneer of diplomacy or politeness, but just sturdy enough that for them to complain would reflect badly on them. And he knew that they knew that.
Had it not been for Cadance’s calming presence, Twilight was sure she’d have hauled off and bucked him in his stupid orange face.
“Now, Twilight,” Cadance admonished primly as Twilight realised she’d observed that last part aloud. “That is no way for a Princess to behave.” She took a long sip from her fruit cocktail and murmured with a smile, half-muffled behind her drink, “even if it would be very satisfying.”
Twilight sighed, finally stopping her pacing and sagging. “I know. It’s... just so frustrating. This is so important, and he’s treating it... like a game. I don’t even know that he wants!”
Shining shrugged. “Well, we’ve got him on the ropes now. We’ve worked our way around every objection he could come up with. Tomorrow he’s either going to have to sign the agreement or come clean. Either way this is going to be over. And we can get back to doing more fun things. Like fighting Sombra again.”
“You’re right, BBBFF,” Twilight yawned hugely. “Better hit the hay so I’m ready for the morning. We wouldn’t want to be late the one occasion Prince Caldrast is actually on time...”
That had, Twilight fumed, been ridiculously optimistic. They had already been awaiting in the spacious, empty expanse of the meeting hall for an hour. Shining stood at the rear of the room, with Razor Sharp and the party’s small diplomatic staff of four slightly-haggard looking ponies. Cadance was chatting to Spike in a low voice, doing her best to keep him from getting too bored while they waited. Twilight felt another surge of affection for her little guy, since once again, Spike had refused flat-out to be left behind, even after yesterday’s gruelling trial.
Just before she reached her last nerve, the far doors opened and Prince Caldrast swept in, followed by his own staff of brightly-dressed servitors. Twilight would not have been surprised if he’d been sitting there the entire time, just watching them steep for his own amusement.
The Grand Prince was large for an alphyn, almost the size of Celestia, but much more heavily built. Even through his fine robes of office, the thick knots of corded muscle stood out. Proof indeed that Caldrast had achieved his position as much by physical force in the honour-duels as by his political machinations. More subtle signs that he was still ready for action at a moment’s notice were in the manner of his adornment. His glowing-coal-orange fur was impeccable, as was his finely-styled steel-blue mane. But both were cut rather shorter than was the typical fashion. The Grand Prince did not choose to gaud either his tail with ribbons or rings like many of his courtiers, leaving it bare to weave mockingly above his head. The rings that were his seals of office he carried around his neck on a chain, rather than on his talons.
And there was that damned smirk again. Only for a moment, but with something else behind it, too...
“Ah,” the Prince rumbled, his deep voice effortlessly carrying across the larger and empty chamber. “Good morning to you, my esteemed guests! I do hope you slept well!”
Twilight bowed, ruthlessly quashing her feelings and mustering up as genuine a smile as she could manage. To the right, she could see Cadance doing the same. Shining, acting as guard with Razor Sharp, bowed but was, at least, spared having to smile. To her left, Spike bowed with a flourish and then settled down, quill and scroll at the ready.
“Good morning, Prince Caldrast,” Twilight answered. “We did indeed,” no thanks to you, she silently added. “I hope today we can close the trade negotiations to your satisfaction and start enjoying the benefits of closer relations between our countries.” She forced herself to smile as brightly as she could.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Caldrast said, waving aside her words with the same disregard he always did. The alphyn settled himself into a chair so ornate it was within a stone’s throw of a throne. “Let me come to the point.
“I am prepared to sign your trade agreement.” He held up a claw. “But there is one more condition.”
It took every iota of Twilight’s willpower not to grind her teeth together. Beside her, she noticed the merest flicker in Cadance’s serene visage and wished she had even that level of poise, much less Princess Celestia’s.
“What, if I may be so bold,” she said, just barely managing to not grind the words out, “is it this time?”
Caldrast actually smiled – not just his little half-smirk, but an actual full-on grin of malicious delight. Twilight’s heart sank.
“Well,” Caldrast said, his voice full of fake cheer. “This morning the other Princes came to me. They are concerned that you have,” he paused smugly, pretending to search for words, “allowed yourselves to be put in a position of weakness during these negotiations. That you have been so very... conciliatory.”
There it was. Twilight bristled, stamping down the retort. They had made every effort, they’d followed the complex alphyn traditions and decorum of politeness and respect as honoured guests, which otherwise would have had them dismissed out of hand. They’d played his game all the way through. And somehow, he’d managed to turn that against them too. Twilight reminded herself that Equestria absolutely had to have this trade agreement and that she’d have to abide by this last amendment. And that convincing Celestia to melt Chasshall – or Caldrast personally – into a puddle was not an option, not matter how angry she was right now.
“Now, with all the trouble abroad nowadays,” Caldrast continued, “we can’t be seen to be having dealings with a weak power. You understand, of course. But fortunately,” he said, clapping his talons together, “there is an easy solution! One that will satisfy my princes.
“So, I will sign Equestria’s treaty... on condition that you defeat me in a Grand Honour Duel this afternoon.” Grand Prince Caldrast leaned back in his chair looking utterly pleased with himself.
There was a gasp of shock from the Equestrian staff. Shining had instinctively taken a step forwards. Spike half stood, mouth open to protest before Cadance caught his eye, and he slumped back, mouth set in thin line. The claw holding the quill was shaking.
Twilight, for part, just stared at the smirking Prince for a moment in dull shock. He was actually going to challenge her – a guest – to an honour duel? And a public one at that, in the grand arena. That went against every rule in the Phynland etiquette rulebook – literally, she’d read fifteen permutations before setting out. Honour duels were very clearly an internal matter between alphyns. The very fact that Caldrast had enough sway to be able to fragrantly disregard the rules made a mockery out of his excuse.
No, Twilight, realised. This is what he’d been after from the start. He did have an ulterior motive, after all. The only question left was why. Not that it mattered.
“Alright, Prince Caldrast,” she snapped. “You’ll have your duel. I don’t mind telling you, I’ll be looking forward to it!”
Twilight would not have believed that Caldrast’s smirk could get any more wicked. She was wrong.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, waving an admonishing talon. “As the challenger, I am to decide who will fight me. I will not be fighting you, Princess Twilight...”
He rose to his feet and lazily raised one talon. “I’ll be fighting her.”
He was pointing at Cadance.
An hour later, Twilight was still shaking with anger and more than a little fear as she sat down in the box so graciously provided by the Prince to watch the proceedings. For once, they truly had the best seats in the house. Caldrast, it seemed, wanted them to witness every last moment of his triumph.
The Chasshall grand arena reminded Twilight more of the Classic Era coliseum. It was at least the size of the stadium in the Crystal Empire where they had held the Equestria Games. The sandy floor was surrounded by a high wall of white stone perhaps two or three times Twilight’s height. From the mountings in the wall, Twilight imagined that this might sometimes house pennants or banners, though none stood today. Twilight might have put that down to this being a last-minute event; but the rows of tiered seating were almost completely full of alphyns, a sea of waving tails and ribbons. Caldrast had obviously planned ahead of time. In fact, Twilight realised with dull surprise, it might have been exactly why he’d dragged out the negotiations so late yesterday.
The Equestrians had been given the Grand Prince’s own royal box, at the centre of the south side, on a platform that was higher than the surrounding seats and above the arena floor wall, which practically had them on top of the action. To either side, at a respectable distance, two smaller boxes housed the palatinate’s twelve lesser princes.
Twilight’s whole staff was seated in the box. Twilight hadn’t really wanted to bring Spike, but the alternative was to either leave him alone or split their small group and at this point, Twilight didn’t want to take that risk. Spike himself hadn’t wanted to be left behind either, though the way he was gripping the front of the box hard enough to leave indentations with his claws was a sign he was as unsettled as she was.
Shining had yet to arrive. Twilight had left him a moment to speak to Cadance alone before the duel began. Just... Just in case. Twilight blinked away furious tears. This could not be happening.
“You... you can’t!” Twilight had exploded, all ready to give up there and then. They’d just have to find some other way, there was no way she was going to let...
“Twilight.” Cadance’s calm voice cut through her churning emotions. “Breathe.” Twilight dutifully performed the breathing exercise.
“It’s okay,” Cadance continued. She turned back to Caldrast, looking him straight in the eye. “If this is what it takes, Prince Caldrast, I’ll do it.”
Caldrast had actually laughed with cruel glee. “The grand arena. One hour!”
He was still cackling as he swept out of the room.
Twilight had argued, but Cadance had been resolute. There was no time to try anything, no time to prepare Cadance. She didn’t even have any armour, which Caldrast was sure to wear; neither Shining Armor nor Razor Sharp – who himself looked as angry as Twilight had ever seen the normally stoic guard – were Cadance’s size, and the lack of time meant that they couldn’t even attempt to adjust it. Wearing ill-fitting armour would be worse than wearing none at all. All of which had to have been Caldrast’s intention all along; to ensure this duel would be as stacked in his favour as possible.
So Twilight and Spike had hugged Cadance fiercely in the cold stone chamber of the arena entrance, and left.
Twilight glanced over to Spike, who looked very pale, and so still. She reached out to winghug him, alphyn disapproval of public displays of affection be damned. Both of them needed it right now.
Twilight’s thoughts were interrupted as Shining entered the box, taking the seat to her right, opposite Spike.
“Hey, Spike,” he called, getting the little dragon’s attention. Shining floated over a container in his aura. “I made a quick stop, on Cadance’s instructions. She said she was worried about you.”
“She’s worried about me?” Spike repeated in disbelief. He opened the container to see it filled to the brim with gems. His eyes widened.
“We figured you might want some comfort food.” Shining smiled. “Go ahead.”
Twilight stared at her brother. “You bought him gems?”
“On Cadance’s orders,” Shining said with a self-deprecating half-grin.
Spike’s pleading gaze was more than Twilight could handle at the moment. If it brought him some comfort... She nodded her affirmation. Spike immediately crammed a clawful of topaz into his mouth and his posture loosened a little. Twilight kept her wing around him, wanting to make sure if... anything happened... she could cover his eyes.
Shining gave them both a comforting smile. “Spike, Twily. It’ll be okay. I promise.” And then the trumpets sounded.
Grand Prince Caldrast entered from directly opposite the royal box. He was preceded by several servants, and the marshal who was to oversee the duel, in resplendent vivid red.
Caldrast himself was armoured. To Twilight’s mild surprise, it was not full, heavy plate armour, but a suit made of some sort of dark, modern flexible plating which looked even more intimidating in its professionalism. Twilight was also certain it would be enchanted for good measure. Two of the servitors bore huge scabbards, which Twilight imagined must house a sword maybe six or seven feet long. The servant that stood near Caldrast bore the most ornate of the two, no doubt the Grand Prince’s personal blade.
The trumpets sounded again, and Cadance entered from directly below the royal box. Alone and unarmoured, she looked very small compared to her hulking opponent.
She stopped the designated distance from her opponent, looking him in the eyes. From her position, Twilight thought she looked remarkably calm... but so fragile.
The marshal stepped forward. His tail whipped in a short pattern, a pale green aura coating it, and when he spoke, his voice carried effortlessly through the entire arena.
“I call all to witness the Grand Honour Duel between Grand Prince Caldrast Nemathator V and Princess Cadance of Equestria and the Crystal Empire.
“The Grand Prince makes the challenge. Should he be defeated, he shall cede his signature to the Equestrian’s trade agreement.
“Once the duel begins, it shall end only when the one accepts the surrender of the other or in the death of one or both combatants.”
Twilight grimaced and beside her, Spike shuddered. She hugged him tighter.
“The combatants may not leave the arena until the duel is over: to leave before forfeits the user’s life to the other. Flight is permitted, but only within the boundary of the arena, which is to say the height of the arena building itself.”
Twilight scowled. That comment was directed at Cadance, ensuring that her only other advantage over the Prince – her wings – would be seriously curbed. Alphyns possessed considerable jumping prowess. Twilight had no doubt one in as good condition as the Prince would have little difficulty reaching her with a running leap, even before taking into account any magic he might have himself.
“The use of magic is permitted, subject to the prior restrictions.
“The combatants will now be issued with their weapons.”
The Grand Prince took a step forward. His servitor bowed deeply, and, holding the scabbard parallel to the ground, proffered the hilt of the sword. Caldrast reached out with his right arm and drew the blade with one motion, his tail beginning a steady dance, flickering with yellow light as it also took some of strain telekinetically. The Grand Prince’s sword was pitch black, the blade with wicked-looking jagged edges. Twilight just about made out runes on the surface, before Caldrast made a sweeping motion, and the blade exploded into bright flames so sudden and intense that many of the watchers – including Cadance – flinched back.
Caldrast made a wordless mocking bow, and gestured to the other scabbard-bearing servant. Cadance’s blue aura wrapped around the hilt and drew the blade out rather more slowly. Cadance wrinkled her nose with distaste as she regarded the wide, heavy blade, holding it at horn’s length. It was functional, but little else; a little tarnished with age, pitted in one or two places, but it did appear, at least, to be usable.
The marshal spoke again. “Do the competitors have any final words before the duel begins?” Though his comment was directed at both alicorn and alphyn, it was clear he was truly only awaiting his liege’s leave to start the duel.
Caldrast seemed content to draw out the moment, as he looked to Cadance. When he spoke, he did not use magic, but simply raised his voice loud enough for all to hear.
“This is the part where you make some impassioned speech to change my heart, is it not? When you persuade me to see the error of my ways and we all have tea together? Is that not how you Equestrians always work, oh princess of love?”
“Would you listen if I did?” Cadance asked, with resignation.
“Of course not,” Caldrast chuckled.
“Then I won’t speak to you.” Cadance’s horn glowed again, as when she spoke, her voice was amplified like the marshal’s had been. If Caldrast was impressed, he gave no sign.
And Cadance spoke. She spoke not to Caldrast, but to the watching alphyns. She spoke of Equestria’s friendship, of their hopes for a better, happier world. Of how they had come to Phynland in good faith, to cement a bargain that would better both their countries, emphasising how the alphyns would gain. Of how hard Twilight had worked to reach this agreement. Of how much Equestria and Phynland would gain by sharing each other’s strength. She appealed to their better natures. She spoke of every virtue she had encountered here and at home. She spoke even when she knew that it would fall on deaf ears. She spoke, because it was the right thing to do.
“That’s my girl,” Shining murmured. “You tell ‘em, sweetie!”
“I don't understand!” Twilight snapped. “How can you be so calm! Cadance is down there in mortal danger! And you... you...!”
She trailed off. Shining stared at her in surprise for a moment then stopped as a sudden realisation dawned on him. He laid a comforting hoof on her shoulder.
“Twily... I'm sorry. Really sorry. You... really don't know, do you? That's why you're so upset.”
“Know? Know what? What do you mean?” Twilight demanded, keeping half an eye on the arena below.
“Cadance will be fine, trust, me. Look, she–”
“Fine? Fine? She's about to fight in arena with a creature twice her size! Hay, he has a sword twice her size! How can she possibly be fine?” A few locks of hair sprung loose from her head.
Shining stared at her worriedly for a moment, considering how best to get through to her when she was in this state. Spike, concerned, tried to split his attention between the arena and agitated alicorn.
“All done?” Caldrast asked when Cadance fell silent at last.
“I guess I am. No sudden change of heart?”
“Alas, no.”
“Just a question left, then,” Cadance said, dropping amplification spell and speaking only to Caldrast, her voice betraying nothing. “Why all this? This was clearly what you wanted from the start. What will you gain?”
Caldrast chuckled. “What do I gain?” He too spoke more quietly. “I could say it would be the humiliation of Equestria, most especially in the failure of its newest Princess,” his gaze flicked briefly to the royal box, “on her first major diplomatic mission. I could say the weakening of Equestria’s power and reputation. I could say it cements my own position, standing and power.
“But all of that is merely... incidental.
“It is all fleeting, you see. Power, position... Wealth, concubines, children... All gone, in time. But history... History remembers. And history will remember me.
“It will remember that I outmanoeuvred one of Equestria’s precious Princesses. It will remember me as a slayer of an alicorn!” Caldrast grinned manically. “The fact that it will be the least of them hardly matters... After all, history remembers only the winners. Do we not remember the famous pincer movement of Hannibull at the battle of Canneigh? But how many fewer remember the low quality of his opponent’s generalship?”
Cadance looked at him, slightly stunned. “This is... this is what you went to all this trouble for? I have met some egomaniacs in my time, but... wow.”
“Egomaniac, I might be, but I shall at least be an egomaniac history remembers!” Caldrast pronounced triumphantly.
“Um, okay,” Shining said at last, watching the unheard exchange of words between the two combatants. “Let me try and explain it this way. What is Princess Celestia?”
“Uh... an alicorn? What does this have to do with–” Twilight started, confused by the abrupt change of subject.
“Humour me,” her brother replied. “No, what I mean is, what is her job, no... Her... title? Maybe? Aside,” he added quickly, “from being the one of the rulers of Equestria?”
“The... Princess of the Sun?” Twilight replied, wondering where her BBBFF was going with this.
“Right. And what is Princess Luna?”
“Princess of the Moon?” Spike chirped up, a claw full of rubies.
Shining glanced at him and nodded, before turning back to Twilight. “And you?”
“Princess of Friendship.” Twilight said with more certainty.
Shining nodded once more. “And Cadance?”
“Protector of the Crystal Empire.” Twilight said it, almost without thinking, and then stopped.
Shining smiled again in answer. “One of those things is not like the others, right?”
Cadance sighed, closing her eyes with resignation. “Okay, then.”
“The Peryton have a legend, you know,” Caldrast hissed, eyes sparkling with maniacal glee. “They say that they cast a shadow that is not their own, until they eat the heart of the creature their shadow forms. And only then do they cast a shadow of themselves. What shadow, I wonder, will I cast, when I eat your heart, Princess?”
Cadance opened her eyes, her expression clear and determined. “And now I feel a lot less sorry about this,” she muttered under her breath. The blue glow around her weighty blade disappeared, and it crashed to the floor, where the impact puffed up a small cloud of dust.
“You yield already?” Caldrast sneered, his voice rising to address the masses once more. “I had hoped you might at least put up a token effort...”
“No,” Cadance replied cheerfully, amplifying her voice again as well. “Thanks, but I don’t need to borrow your sword. I have my own.”
Caldrast laughed. “Surely you cannot be so foolish. I know of your Crystal Empire's crystal blades. While such a fragile weapon might serve to fight a pony, it cannot stand against a blade like mine!”
Above, Twilight grimaced. Caldrast had a point. She had seen the crystal blades used before in the Empire. Created by a modified crystallisation spell, they formed a thin blade not unlike a rapier. They were fast, light weapons, but even magically reinforced crystal was fragile. Against Caldrast's heavy sword, he would have both the advantage of reach and power. Surely Cadance knew that, she’d be better off with–
“Oh, I don't know how make one of those,” Cadance replied guilelessly.
Caldrast blinked, abruptly taken aback.
“Been meaning to get around to learning,” she continued conversationally, as her horn lit, “but I never seem to find the time. But,” she said with a rather-too-bright smile. “I did learn this from Princess Celestia...”
Her horn glowed, and above her head a nebulous pale blue field began to appear, shimmering blue sparks of light scattering outward. Within the field, the magic began to take solid shape.
Twilight shot Shining a surprised glance. She recognised the spell from its description in various texts – some historical, some magical – though she had never seen it cast before in person.
“Princess Celestia taught her to summon her own divine weapon?” Twilight knew from history, that in the long-past years when Celestia (and presumably Luna too) had been called to fight at the head of an army, she had created a spell that wove itself into a physical weapon, a manifestation of herself in weapon form, as beautiful and terrible as the sun. It was not something that even Celestia herself had used for a long time. In the days before she no longer took the field, she had relied on other magic, as the unfortunate art of battle magic had evolved. So for her to teach Cadance, of all ponies, seemed... more than a little strange, as by all accounts, it was a rather complex spell.
Shining chuckled quietly. “Twily... what do you think Cadance did before the Empire returned?”
Twilight stared at him in surprise. “I... don’t know. We lost touch after she stopped being my foalsitter. I... just thought she was off doing... I don’t know, princess-y things?” That sounded odd, even to herself, now she said it out loud. As Celestia’s personal student, she hadn’t seen Cadance around very often, but had chalked that up to her own increasing reclusiveness and then to the fact she had been in Ponyville. But now that she thought about it, she saw Cadance far less than she ought to have had if Cadance hadn't been doing something else. The thought that she might not know about part of one her family’s lives was rather unsettling. “So... what was she doing?”
“Well, somepony had to keep dealing all the crises that keep popping up, right?” Shining said jovially. “The ones the Guard couldn’t handle. Who do you think dealt with all the villains and monster attacks before you and the girls came along?”
“I... never really thought about it.” Twilight blinked. “You mean that... Cadance...? But she’s... Her special talent is love, isn’t it?”
Shining’s gaze drifted over to his wife and the complex matrix of the spell she was weaving as Caldrast watched, nonplussed but apparently unconcerned.
“Twily, why do we fight? The monsters and villains, I mean. You and I, the princesses, the guards... Why do we do what we do?”
“To... protect ponies,” Twilight answered slowly. “Because they can’t protect themselves. Because it’s the right thing to do?”
Shining turned his gaze back to Twilight. “All true, but keep going. What makes us want to – or need to – do that? What made you finally snap and fight Tirek?”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “He blew up my house! And he nearly...” She shuddered. “He nearly...! He... Owliscious...”
“And that made you mad.”
“Of course it did, it–”
“But more than that, it gave you strength, right? To fight? Why?”
“Because,” Twilight began hotly, “he threatened somepony I...
“...love...” she finished, her eyes widening.
The coruscating field from Cadance’s spell intensified, tinting the arena with a soft blue glow and throwing everything into sharp relief.
Shining beamed. “We fight to protect, to defend: out of love, out of compassion. Aren’t we at our strongest, when we’re defending our loved ones?
“You and the girls wield the power of Friendship and you’ve worked miracles with it. The power of Love is just as strong, too. But it’s more intense, more focussed – often more personal... And when dealing with someone that threatens it, someone who won’t back down, who won’t repent...it can also be less forgiving.
“This,” he said, indicating his cutie-mark with a nod of his horn, “represents me, and the guard, and our desire to protect – to shield – the citizens of Equestria from harm. But sometimes, as you know yourself, that’s not enough.”
“Which is why Cadance and I make a good team. I’m the shield...”
With a flare of her horn, Cadance finished her spell. With a last flash of light, the matrix coalesced into the solid form of a sword.
The first thing about it everyone noticed, was that it looked exactly like the sort of sword a young filly dreaming of being a princess might have drawn in crayon[1]. It was pink. It was gold. There were red gems in the shape of hearts imbedded in it. The word “delicate” and “fluted” were definitely applicable, and “frilly” was watching from over the fence with a keen eye. Little pink love-hearts rose off the blade into the air above it and popped with bright sparkles.
It was, in fact, the single most feminine, girly-looking sword that any of the observers had ever seen.
It was, in fact, so stereotypically feminine that it took all of the observers a few seconds to register the second thing about it.
Which was that it was ten feet long.
Shining turned to the Twilight who was staring with shock, jaw agape, and gently reached a hoof to close her open mouth.
He grinned wickedly. “... and Cadance is the sword.”
[1] This was, in fact, not entirely far from the truth.
Author's Note
My thanks go to the inestimable Skywriter, whom provided both the final nudge for me to actually write this story[1] and for graciously pre-reading and enabling me to hammer this into a much better state.
And also, my thanks as per usual, to the denizens of the Giant in the Playground Ponythread, who you'd have thought would have known not to encourage me at this point...!
[1]So this is also his fault too!
Grand Prince Caldrast was staring in absolute shock, his irises shrunk to tiny dots, his jaw dropped and his tail stunned rigid. The arena had gone equally as silent and still. Cadance almost felt a bit guilty at the satisfaction that gave her. Almost.
Well. Time for one last try. He did look nearly pathetic like that: she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d called for his mother.
“We don’t have to do this,” she said, earnestly. “We can still resolve this peacefully.”
Her words finally broke Caldrast out of his thunderstruck stupor. He shook his head as if to clear it, pride, anger, and humiliation at his reaction visibly warring with apprehension.
“No. No!” he snapped, forcefully. “I shall not back down from you, pony! I am not afraid of you!”
Internally, Cadance sighed. Nothing for it, then. She’d tried her best, but you just couldn’t get through to somecreatures.
“Are you sure?” she needled lightly, with the barest smirk. “Because it sure looked like it from–”
“Begin the duel!” Caldrast interrupted furiously, his face red with shame and anger.
Cadance flourished her blade with practised ease and was secretly delighted to see the twitch of worry in Caldrast’s eyes at the effortless way she made her massive blade dance. All the hours she’d spent practising that had paid off.
The marshal, mastering himself with rather more effort than Caldrast had, spoke again. “The combatants are prepared. The duel begins on my mark. Mark!” The marshal scurried out of the way with most unseemly haste.
Caldrast immediately opened with a snarling leap, swinging his heavy blade in a furious double-taloned downward slice. Cadance was actually fairly sure he’d begun moving before the word was given, but she had expected that. She deftly moved her own blade to intercept.
The resounding clash of the blades echoed throughout the arena. For a moment, they were frozen in place, Caldrast’s furious rage flickering into concern as he realised that Cadance’s sword hadn’t even budged a millimetre from the heavy impact. Nor had the alicorn herself even adjusted her casual stance. Cadance let that sink in for half-a-second, before shoving her blade up and pushing the big alphyn away. Caldrast, off balance mentally and physically, let out a surprised yelp as the motion pushed his blade over his head and nearly sent him head over heels backwards. As it was, he stumbled on his back legs several paces and had to let go with his his left talon before he regained his balance.
He did so just in time to barely dodge Cadance’s own sword swing, calculated to disrupt any attempt he might have made to regain control of himself. The blade whistled past his sternum, leaving in its wake both a slight scratch on the surface of his armour and a trail of incongruously disconcerting little popping hearts.
Cadance knew she had to keep the pressure on. The longer she could keep him from focussing and provoke him into making rash attacks to tire him out, the better her chances were. This fight was going to be difficult at best. Even if she’d been willing to kill him, a dead Caldrast would sign no treaties. Further, the inevitable subsequent scramble for succession and potential civil war would mean that it could take years before there was a successor in position to re-negotiate with. Even knocking him out was out of the question: he needed to be able to offer his surrender for her to be able to accept it by the terms of the alphyn’s honour duels. No, the only way she could win and salvage this situation was to actually force him to capitulate. For that, she was going to have wear him down, physically and mentally.
She held herself still, affecting an aura of cheerful nonchalance with an almost-amused smile on her lips, even as she pressed her attack. Her only movement was to pace one or two steps forward to keep her sword within reach. Caldrast was a consummate schemer, but if she’d judged right from his reactions thus far, he reacted badly when his meticulous schemes were upset and he lost control of the situation. She needed to keep him in a state where he was not thinking clearly.
She swung at him again, and this time he managed rear up and make a double-taloned parry. His eyes widened still further as she exerted her strength and his feet began to skid backwards.
In the royal box, Shining glanced at his family. Spike was motionless, his eyes wide, one claw halfway to his mouth, frozen in mid-chew. Twilight, meanwhile was mumbling in incredulity, eyes glued to the battle. Shining leaned back a bit in his seat, returning his attention to his wife and failing to completely hide his smile. It wasn’t often he could legitimately get one up on his sister, so he might have been forgiven for milking the moment for all it was worth.
“Should have brought some popcorn,” he half-grumbled.
Caldrast abruptly tensed his legs and sprang backwards, taking him out of immediate sword-reach. His tail glowed yellow and flashed into an almost-instinctive spell-pattern. A blazing yellow-hot ball of flame exploded from the tip, easily the size of Cadance’s own head.
She made a split-second judgement, weighing the benefits of keeping her projected stance and attempting to take the fireball hit on magical shields versus dropping the stance and dodging. She opted for the latter, springing to her right with a beat of her wings. The fireball hissed past half a wing’s breadth away from her left flank, and she could feel the heat boiling off it. Wise decision, she reflected, a heartbeat before the fireball exploded against the arena wall. The intensity of the blast was large enough that she felt it from where she was flying.
Oh, snap! she nervously gulped, taken aback. Unfortunately, her momentary hesitation was enough to give Caldrast the fraction of a second he needed to ground himself.
A second fireball followed, and then a third. Cadance dived under the second one, still flying but skimming only a scant hoof-width above the arena floor. She tried intercepting the third one with her sword. But large as it was, her blade was too narrow in proportion to completely block the fireball. It detonated far too close, forcing her to abruptly spread her wings wide and pull up vertically. A fourth fireball came close enough to singe the feathers on her left wing. High enough it should have sent the audience scattering, it instead exploded on an invisible magic screen starting above the wall. Even behind the shield and seated a little distance back, the alphyns directly behind the impact all flinched.
Okay, this was bad. Caldrast was apparently a fire specialist, if the strength of these attacks was anything to go by. And a highly practised one, at that. Now that he was not on the defensive, he was settling into a steady attack sequence, his tail moving nonstop. Cadance realised with a start she could see that he was actually starting one spell-pattern near the base of his tail, a second was working its way down the length while a third pattern completed at the tip. Scratch that, this was really bad.
Twilight gasped, finally shaken out of her stupor at the abrupt reversal. In spite of herself, she was impressed with the level of skill it took to be able to cast spells sequentially. It was not something that a unicorn or even an alicorn could have done – their magic simply did not work in that fashion. Though alphyn spells might have had an overall longer casting time, the ability to queue up more that one spell at once nearly obviated that disadvantage. It was quite clear from Caldrast’s display he was not at all out of practise and she could suddenly see how he had managed to weld the fractious alphyns under his single banner.
Beside her, Shining was no longer smiling. Razor Sharp muttered a muted oath of surprise, his eyes narrowing in calculation.
Caldrast’s expression had gone blank. Cadance took this as the worst sign yet; he’d regained his focus and worse, it meant that every available mental process was now concentrated on beating her, with none spared for grandstanding, fear or anger. He was standing half-rampant, his right arm holding his sword parallel to the ground, his back legs bent, and his left foreleg locked rigidly on the ground. His swiftly-moving tail unleashed a steady stream of fireballs.
She needed to snap him out this as fast as possible – those fireballs were getting closer, and jinking and dodging alone was not going to be enough. She hovered still for a moment, putting up a pale blue spherical shield. A fireball slammed straight at her, and she had to intercept and detonate it with her sword. Her shield took the brunt of the explosion, though not without sucking up far more magic than she would have liked. In return, the moment’s pause bought her enough time to fire a horn-blast at the same moment as the impact.
With no warning and screened by the explosion, Caldrast had no time to dodge. But in her haste, Cadance’s aim had been off, and the beam only hit his right shoulder. To her dismay, the blue-white beam diffused on striking the armour’s magical protection, leaving a glowing white circle around the impact-point which faded after a second or two. The armour didn’t quite absorb all of the force; enough power got through to cause Caldrast to jerk and spoil his aim. The brief flicker in his expression seemed to suggest he had expected his armour to be able to completely block her attack. Cadance grimaced inwardly. On the one hoof, she could still affect him with her horn-blasts. On the other, the magic-ablating effect meant that she was going to have to fire harder and longer to overcome it.
She snapped into a half-aileron roll to her right, keeping her distance so she had more time to react to the fireballs, and blasted a sustained slashing beam across Caldrast’s position, left to right. Caldrast hopped backwards out of the beam’s path, ignoring the spray of hot sand thrown up by the beam’s passage, his fire not even noticeably slowing.
Cadance weaved through another pair of fireballs and dived down to nearly ground level. She rolled to her side and slashed another beam, aimed above his head at his unarmoured tail. Caldrast did have to break off his attack this time, dropping flat and to the left, bringing his sword up. The beam struck the blade and reflected off it and Cadance ceased firing. The alphyn deftly backflipped away from both her next blasts with blinding alacrity, his tail snapping out two fireballs – simultaneously this time.
Caught by surprise, Cadance dodged one, but the second one skimmed over her sword, and it was only instinctively she got a shield up in time. As it was, the direct hit sent her tumbling head over heels. As she came out her spin, she had already started blasting at his former position before she realised he was no longer there.
Where in the hay did he–
A heavy weight collided into her from behind. Darn, he’s so fast, she thought, alarmed, only distantly hearing Spike’s far-too-late cry of warning. Caldrast had somehow leaped up and landed a solid double drop-kick on her with both his rear legs, then practically landed on top of her mid-air. As the alphyn’s weight brought her crashing down, he grabbed his sword with both talons and swung it downwards. She managed to get her own blade in place just in time. She hit the floor at the same time as the flaming blade, knocking the wind out of her and jarring her sword noticeably.
Now she was in trouble. While with her Earth Pony strength, she was probably still the stronger of the two, Caldrast was much heavier and in a position to use his strength to its full extent, whereas she was flat on her back and couldn’t get any leverage.
Caldrast’s smirk was back. He hammered at her sword, attempting to beat through her guard, as she desperately struggled to gain purchase. Frantically trying to think of a strategy, she recalled what the formidable mare who had been her first combat instructor had always advised in this sort of circumstance – and that gave her an idea.
Her horn flared, and the air and sand around her coalesced into a solid upwards thrust of crystal, hurling Caldrast off her. The bulk of the blow had been centred on one particular point, causing eye-watering and a murmur of sympathy from every male in the audience, except Spike.
Catching Shining’s querying glance, Spike shrugged cheerfully.
“Dragon, remember! We don’t have the same dangly bits you guys do!” He danced up in his seat and yelled encouragement. “Go on, hit him there again, Cadance!”
“Spike!” Twilight snapped aghast.
Razor Sharp quietly made a few mental notes, among them not to get on the wrong side off the little dragon...
Cadance kipped up to her feet, her impromptu crystal ram bursting apart. She found that Caldrast had recovered with commendable speed, but from his angry and embarrassed expression, she’d at least shattered his composure.
They both sprang forward with their blades at the same time. Caldrast had maintained enough of his cool to remember his superior speed. He dropped in mid-charge to slide feet-first past her right side, twitching his blade aside from its initial angle at the last second to swing at her flank. Her own stroke had swept above his head; her weapon, despite its relative lightness for its size, was still just a fraction too heavy to compensate. She only barely pulled her body out of reach, and the flaming sword seared a hoof-width’s length off her tail.
Her sword swing, however, was unimpeded by the need for her to hold it physically and she simply continued its trajectory in a circular arc. She put a little more momentum into the stroke for good measure, which carried it fast enough that this time, Caldrast wasn’t quite able to backflip out of the way. The tip grazed his left shoulder, slicing into the armour but failing to penetrate to the skin beneath.
It was then Caldrast had an unpleasant revelation. While he had a blade that was on fire, Cadance had a blade that was on love. Which, the Grand Prince realised with horror, was a far worse thing to be hit by, as it tended to react badly with the dark-at-heart. Unfiltered love-magic boiled into his brain, bubbling over into compassion and dragging out entirely unwanted feelings of remorse. Caldrast let out a distraught cry as these unfamiliar feelings flooded into his skull and bounced around where he was quite unable to repress them.
“I suddenly feel incredibly guilty for selling my grandmother!” he wailed.
He completely missed Cadance’s momentary look of incredulous disbelief. Seriously?
She hit him again, swinging her sword back in from the right before he could recover. His own blade stopped it from slicing into his side, but the jolt bowled him over and the flat of Cadance’s blade struck him in the flank.
“I regret demolishing those four animal shelters to make way for my golden statue!” Caldras involuntarily lamented. But even as he fell, he retained enough presence of mind to send his tail snaking out. It wrapped around Cadance’s left foreleg and pulled it out from under her. Caught flat-hoofed, she sprawled face-first into the sand, just clipping the tip of her horn on the sword’s guard as she fell.
The double impact made her see stars. She scrambled to her hooves to see Caldrast had opened out the range between them. He was now standing more-or-less where he’d begun the duel; she was halfway between him and the royal box behind her.
Caldrast’s tail was just completing a new spell-pattern – he must have started it as he pulled his tail back, she realised. The flames on his sword flared up, blazing from fire-red to searing yellow. With a bellow, a huge stream of fire erupted from the blade towards her, the shock wave scattering the sand in both directions.
She only just had time to slam a shield up. Even so, the heat was incredible – and the attack wasn’t stopping. She tried to move her sword into the path of the blast to try and deflect some of the force, but the flames were so intense that she could barely hold it in the stream. She didn’t even dare try to move or let up her shield to teleport, as it was the only thing preventing her from taking the full force of the blast. She redoubled her efforts and poured all her energy into it, her only hope that she could outlast his attack before she ran out of power.
“Cadance! No!” Twilight cried. The pink alicorn was all but invisible, even her shield disappearing under the yellow inferno.
Shining Armor’s face was an impassive mask, but his jaw twitched minutely.
Caldrast drew in a mighty breath. With a snarl of exertion, he surged his magic and sent a pulse down the stream of fire, which doubled in width, going from yellow to pure white. The pulse slammed into the unseen shield and exploded in a violent flash, leaving behind a cloud of dust and smoke.
Spike let out a wordless cry of horror.
Shining made a sharp intake of breath, but then relaxed slightly, noting the pattern of the cloud. Before he could impart his insight to his sister, the smoke gusted away, revealing a soot-stained and slightly singed Cadance, a few little wisps of smoke rising from several places on her fur and wings.
“Thank Celestia!” Twilight half-sobbed. Spike dropped back into his seat, dizzy with relief, dashing the tears from his eyes.
As the smoke cleared, Cadance, half-boiled and chest heaving, saw Caldrast on all fours in a similar state of exhaustion. The two combatants silently stared at each other for several moments, knowing that the next exchange would likely be the last.
With a final effort, Cadance charged forwards, wings pumping, skimming the ground. Caldrast snatched up his sword with both talons and launched forward like a coiled spring.
Cadance threw herself flat, swinging her sword in from the right and upwards with all her force. The two blades clashed one last time. The strength behind her blow finally tore Caldrast’s sword from his grasp, sending it in a high arc, spinning end over end towards the arena wall. The flames guttered and died mid-flight and it imbedded in the stone halfway to the hilt, juddering.
Caldrast, stunned, looked dolefully from his lost weapon to Cadance, her divine blade tip now pointed at his throat.
“This battle is over,” she said, huffing with exertion. “Yield.”
“Never!” Caldrast spat. “I shall never yield to you–”
Cadance rapped him smartly on the head with the flat of her blade.
“Aaagh! Those poor orphans!”
“Now do you yield?” Cadance asked, her eyebrow twitching slightly. “I can keep going...”
“Never!” Caldrast said, struggling to stand up.
She conked him again.
“Nev–” Conk.
“I shall nev–” Conk.
“Rot in–” Conk.
“Wow, he really doesn’t know when to quit, does he,” Spike observed, buoyant once more, shoveling another handful of rubies into his mouth.
“I feel kind of sorry for him, actually,” Twilight said sadly.
“I don’t,” Shining chirped brightly, giving Razor Sharp a surreptitious high-hoof.
“I... shall,” Caldrast raggedly managed, eyes unfocused, before wavering and collapsing to his haunch and knees, breathing heavily.
“Are you ready to give up yet?” Cadance asked, rather more kindly that was probably necessary and with just a hint of pleading at the edges. She didn’t take any pleasure in having to hit a defeated opponent, but until he acceded, there wasn’t anything she could do without actually killing him. He had to offer his surrender before she could accept it and he couldn’t do that while unconscious.
Caldrast drew a shuddering breath.
“I... yield..”
Cadance started to smile in relief–
“...to NO-ONE!” His shout was so loud Cadance felt her hair blow back. “Not to you, nor to a land full of vacuous, empty-headed grazers, nor to a fat, old, cake-obsessed lackadaisical sun-nag, nor her sister who spends her time bothering the dreams of foals in the vain hope of conning somecreature into spending time with her, nor to a neurotic, jumped-up child incapable of seeing past the book she has jammed her pointy head into, nor her stupid, shamefully house-broken joke of a brother and least of all, her vile, emasculated, magic-spawned progeny whose very existence is an insult to every dragon who has ever lived!”
Cadance’s mouth hung open.
There was a collective gasp from around the arena.
Shining was half-ready to grab Twilight in case she leaped down to the arena, but for good-or-ill, it appeared the sheer audacity of Caldrast’s diatribe had momentarily short-circuited her brain.
“Harsh,” Spike whispered, more than a little stung.
“Ooooh,” observed Razor Sharp, tutting quietly. “You shouldn’t ought to have said that, Caldy...”
Cadance’s expression went flat, eyes narrowed. It was only now, finally, that it occurred to Caldrast he might have made a tactical error. Somewhere in the back of his head, the smartest portion of his brain, hitherto largely unheard over the prideful parts, made a little whimper and curled into a foetal position.
The resultant spifflication was only half-observed by those in the arena, who were too busy averting their gaze and audibly wincing at every blow.
(Except Spike, who was jumping up and down in his seat, whooping and hollering and shouting encouragement at the top of his voice.)
Cadance gazed down at the battered, blithering, semi-conscious twitching heap of alphyn before her. Dismissing her divine weapon in a bright shower of blue sparks, she leaned over, head to one side, and cocked an ear.
“Now do you yield?”
Caldrast made a sort of high-pitched wheezing noise and twitched slightly. Close enough.
“He says yes,” Cadance announced, with a big, closed-eyed beaming smile.
“Uh,” said the marshal, uncovering his eyes and regaining his composure. “I, uh, declare this duel to be concluded! Princess Cadance of Equestria and the Crystal Empire is the winner!” He glanced apprehensively at the great pile of Grand Prince, but there was no further reaction.
There was a sort of nervous applause from the watching crowds, but the exuberant cheer from the Equestrians more than made up for it.
Cadance trotted away, eyes closed and smiling up at the royal box. Internally, she was straining her ears, hoping, pleading, that Caldrast wouldn’t do the predictable thing and would stay down. But just in case, she surreptitiously counted down on her right wing primaries: three... two... one…
Right on cue, with sad inevitability, Caldrast exploded from the ground towards her unprotected back, bellowing with rage.
Twilight’s yelp of warning cut off half-way through as Cadance deftly performed a complicated manoeuvre, part back-flip, part roll, which had her suddenly behind the astonished pouncing alphyn. It happened so fast that more of the watchers didn’t even see how she did it, only registering that the pink alicorn was abruptly there and delivering an almighty buck to the leaping alphyn’s rear mid-flight. Spike ever after swore blind he’d seen a flare of blue and burst of sapphire love-hearts at the point of impact.
Caldrast, propelled by his own momentum and accelerated by Cadance’s tremendous buck, had barely enough time to register what had happened. His roar turned into a screech just before he slammed face-first into the arena wall. He pancaked against it hard enough to crack the stone into spiderwebs. He hung there for a moment, then peeled off bonelessly onto his back on the sand, well-and-truly unconscious. His tail flopped on top of him like a cut rope.
With a disappointed sigh and shake of her head, Cadance flew up to the royal box to be pounced on by her family in a far more pleasant manner.
“That was amazing!” Twilight gushed, as the diplomatic party trotted back to the palace from the arena. Once her adrenaline rush had worn off and she’d confirmed for herself that Cadance was largely unhurt, Twilight was only barely less excited than Spike. “When did you become so good at fighting? Why did I never hear about it!”
Cadance giggled lightly. “One, you were always too busy with your books to notice. Two, you know how much attention ponies pay to crises unless they affect them personally! I amazed when you girls told me that Daring Do’s adventurers were all real! You would have thought at least some of them might have made the papers! Didn’t most of the ponies at the first Grand Galloping Gala or even your birthday party fail to recognise the girls as the Elements of Harmony at all at first?”
“I guess so,” Twilight admitted. Pony news was a funny thing. Celestia over-indulging in cake (again) was front-page news, but a dragon attack sometimes barely merited a small side-story the middle pages. “But– but –Chrysalis! And Tirek!”
Cadance smiled mirthlessly. “Chrysalis got the jump on me. I’d just gotten through a difficult battle with a pair of Indriks that were threatening Canterberry. She ambushed me with a couple of dozen drones when I was alone and too exhausted to fight back and drained me nearly dry.”
“And Tirek?” Cadance continued. “Well, the plan was never to fight him, was it? We gave you our magic so you could hide it. But even if it hadbeen, you would still have been the right choice. While I may be a more experienced fighter than you, your special talent is magic, Twilight. I could never have handled the power overload as well as you did.”
Twilight blushed a little at the earnest praise.
“But with the way things are going, Twilight,” Cadance observed somberly, “I think you’re going to get a lot more fighting experience, too.”
The group fell quiet for a moment, before Cadance spoke up again.
“Maybe with everything going on we should try and arrange some time to spar – you, and the girls. And Spike, too, of course,” she added, smiling in the direction of the little dragon.
“You know,” Twilight said, “as unexpected as this all has been, I think I’d like that.”
That night, the ponies and dragon were showered with food (and gems) and spent the night in a rather more fancy suite; this one had several separate bedrooms, and was capable of more than comfortably holding all nine of them with room to spare. Spike spent the entire time bouncing around excitedly and reenacting the battle with waving arms and making noises until he wore himself quite to sleep. Razor Sharp, solemnly and with his usual understatement (and completely ignoring the half-exasperated glances Twilight and Cadance were sending him), deliberately encouraged the little dragon and ensured that Spike missed no details and got everything in order, under the auspices of giving a full account to the other Elements.
Cadance went to take a long bath, and retired early to her room. And if Shining Armor excused himself very shortly afterwards and firmly closed the door behind him, nopony politely took notice of it.
It was the following day when Grand Prince Caldrast, heavily bandaged to the point he looked more like a mummy and noticeably starting every time Cadance so much as glanced in his direction, signed the treaty.
The Grand Prince explained, in whimpers and squeaks translated by his servitors, that he was, in fact, extremely pleased to be signing the treaty, and actually, perhaps he had been a bit harsh and perhaps Equestria would like some more concessions? Please? Also, in entirely unrelated circumstances, that he was announcing a whole raft of new orphanages, rest homes, pet homes and free candy to be distributed to small children.
In the end, the trade agreement was very fair on both sides. Twilight, utterly delighted, completely failed to suppress a little unladylike squee of excitement as she signed under the Grand Prince’s somewhat shaky signature and seal. Spike immediately sent the Equestrian copy to Celestia via dragon-fire, ensuring that Caldrast had no opportunity to renege; beaten he may have been, but Spike didn’t trust him as far as he could have thrown the big alphyn.
As they walked back to the royal carriage and the train that would start their journey home, Twilight frolicked along. Spike sat firmly on her back, eagerly telling the story for the umpteeth time to anypony that would listen. Cadance smiled at the sight, but then looked down and sighed softly.
“Something wrong, honey?” Shining asked quietly. “It all turned out okay in the end.”
“I know,” Cadance said. “I just feel a little guilty.” She looked away. “I know scaring Prince Caldrast straight is probably better than him being the way he was, even if it might not last for long. But... well, I still had to beat it into him. I just don’t like having to resort to force like that, even when it is necessary. Even though he left me no choice.”
Shining nuzzled her comfortingly. “I know you don’t. But you know what Celestia would say.”
“That if I didn’t feel like this, I wouldn’t be worthy of wielding the power I do,” Cadance replied. “I believe her, but even doing so still doesn’t change that fact I do feel guilty, you know?”
Shining brushed her side lightly, and in return she gave him a quick winghug before they entered the carriage.
After they had settled in, and the train’s whistle sounded their departure, Twilight looked over to her sister in-law.
“So, Cadance,” she said. “At the risk of setting Spike off again,” Spike rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly, “maybe you could tell me some of things you’ve been doing between being my foalsitter and marrying Shiny?” She looked at her sister-in-law hopefully. With Spike’s eager, pleading gaze turned to the Protector of the Crystal Empire as well, Cadance could hardly refuse.
Cadance smiled, settling more comfortably into Shining Armor’s side.
“Well, there was the time Aunt Celestia sent me out to track down this peluda that was harassing a small village…”
Author's Note
Once again, thanks to Skywriter for help in pre-reading and polishing this final chapter to a much great sheen!
I hope this has at least brought some amusement to everyone, for then my job is done.
(And if anypony wants to run with this concept themeselves, then by my guest!)
