Princess Celestia sat on her throne on a clear winter morning like any other.
“This coffee is low energy.”
Well, almost like any morning.
Instead of the regal and beloved alicorn, a biped in a suit of the highest quality, with dress shoes of equal quality, sat on the Canterlot throne; a look of disapproval on his face as he stared at the coffee cup in one of his hands.
That biped was Donald Trump: God-Emperor/forty-fifth president of the United States of America.
He placed the coffee cup on one of the arms of the throne and stared out at the throne room, admiring the decor. Melania must've decorated while I was asleep… He smiled and turned to his vice president. “Pence, can you reschedule my meeting with the Chinese for tomorrow? I have reporters to berate later. You know I can't let CNN go a day without being reminded that they're very fake news.”
Princess Luna facehoofed and let out a sigh so long, one might assume her lungs shrunk three sizes. “For the last time,” she growled as she turned to face Trump, who was holding a solid gold cane, “my name is not ‘Pence’! It's Luna!”
“Pence, I told you not to take your Viagra with red bull,” Trump said. “You always think that you're someone else. Remember when you thought you were Julius Caesar? That was truly wonderful, but terrible for our approval ratings.”
Luna sulked and shook her head. “I don't know what you've done to my sister,” she said under her breath, “but I will get her back, and you'll pay for what you've done.”
Trump waved a hand dismissively at Luna as the golden rays from the sun outside shined through the windows of the castle. “Pence, I told you that I'll make sure that Crooked Hillary is arrested, but not until my cabinet is fixed and Comey’s replaced by someone who has a pair.” He stood up and straightened his top-of-the-line Trump™ tie and cleared his throat. “Now, any idea if Paul Ryan still exists? Or did I fire him?”
Luna looked up at the six foot three-inch tall God-Emperor. “Who on Equus is that!?” she shrieked.
“Hm, guess I did fire him,” Trump mused to himself. He rubbed his God-like chin as he contemplated a replacement (and the meaning of life or, more probably, why everyone was against him, again). After a few minutes of intense thinking, he finally said, “Get Flynn back on the phone. Ask him if he wants to be Speaker or whatever the position’s called.”
Luna tilted her head. “Speaker…?”
“Damn it, Pence, we don't have time for questions!” Trump snapped. “Not when we have to Make America Great Again!”
“I'm sorry that I have no idea what you're talking about!” Luna snapped, her normal voice having been replaced by the Royal Canterlot Voice. “Now, I demand that you tell me where my sister is, or I swear that I will banish you to Tartarus!”
Trump calmly fixed his hair, which now resembled a tidal wave, and brushed his sleeves. “Pence, what did I tell you about using your indoor voice when talking to me?” Trump walked down to the throne room door and, after reaching it, said, “You're not getting any ice cream tonight.” With that, he exited the room.
Luna, meanwhile, did the only thing that seemed logical to do (and required the least effort).
She fell forward and buried her face into a pillow.
Meanwhile, the Trumpster strutted into the castle hallway. He saluted the two guards outside, who saluted back.
“You guys are real heroes,” Trump said as he walked away, at which point Centipede seemingly played from nowhere, much to the anger of royal guardponies and chefs. Now, to go get breakfast and sign that executive order to rename the country Trumpland, he thought made his way through the castle. Eventually, though, Trump found himself in the courtyard.
Hm, guess Melania did some gardening last night, Trump thought as he admired the enormous hedges and disappointing lack of trees in the shape of himself. Maybe I can sign an executive order to change that...
“CHANGELINGS!”
The God-Emperor jumped at the ridiculously high-pitched voice, which was followed by an equally loud crash, which came from not too far from the castle. He looked up to see smoke billowing into the air.
“Princess Cele-”
Trump turned around to see Shining Armor running up to him, a baffled look on his face.
“General Mattis!” Trump said as he saluted. “What in the world just happened!? Has ISIS made it to the US?”
“I…” Shining Armor shook his head and cleared his throat. “Sorry, princess. I thought you'd turned into a six foot tall piece of cheese.”
“I know my spray tan doesn't reflect well outside, Mattis!” Trump snapped. “But this is no time for jokes!”
“Sorry, your highness!” Shining replied sheepishly. “No, it was Changelings. A rogue group to be exact. What should we do?”
“Bomb 'em,” the God-Emperor deadpanned, not even bothering to question what a Changeling is.
“If we’re to do that, we need your sister's approval,” Shining replied, still not sure if who he was seeing was his princess or sapient cheese. “Quick, come with me!”
Luna still had her face buried in a pillow, somehow not having managed to suffocate thanks to the lack of oxygen.
What did I ever do to deserve this? she thought to herself, somehow forgetting about the whole Nightmare Moon thing.
“Your highness!”
Luna jolted up, the pillow still on her face. She threw it aside and saw Shining Armor, accompanied by the God-Emperor himself.
“We've just received word that terrorist Changelings have attacked and I apparently need your approval to have the military bomb them to kingdom come,” Trump blurted out. “So, yeah, let's make this snappy, Pence.”
Luna and Shining Armor both stared at Trump; slack jawed and dumbfounded.
“Changelings have… you want to…” Luna levitated the pillow she threw earlier back over and fell face first into it once more. “I want my mommy…”
“So, does this mean I can scramble the F-22’s or is she pulling a Democrat?” Trump asked a still slack jawed Shining Armor.
“I have no idea what that is,” Shining said as he finally snapped back into reality, “but it sounds about right.” He turned to face the God-Emperor, who bore a facial that one would have if they wanted to throw a rock at someone. “I bet if you got permission from Princess Twilight, you could have us go fight off the Changelings.”
Luna shot up once again, her eyes as wide as the God-Emperor's hands. “No! Don't contact her!” she screamed. “The last thing we need is for Twilight to get roped into a terrorist attack!”
With a deep breath, Luna stood up and walked over to the two men. “Shining, go get your guards and go find every last one of the Changelings responsible for this,” she said. “As for you: I want you to stay with me.”
“Alright,” Trump said as he took out his phone. He walked over to Celestia’s throne and sat down on it. “Guess I'll tweet until someone has something for me to do.”
Very Fake News @CNN and failing @NYTimes will no doubt cover up radical Changelings attack on D.C! Sad!
After several more tweets (none of which were ever sent due to Equus’ reception being non-existent), Trump put away his phone and stared at Luna. “So, Pence, how's the family?”
Luna rolled her eyes. Might as well throw him a bone, she thought to herself. “The family? Oh, they're… uh, great!” she said with a forced smile. “Yes, my… uh… err…” Luna's eyes darted around the room as her heart raced.
Trump raised an eyebrow and sat up. “What's wrong?”
Luna gulped and bit her lower lip. “N-nothing,” she said. “Just… y’know. Family's a-okay!”
“Oh, well, that's good,” Trump replied. “Thought you might've been pulling a Bill Clinton.” He chuckled at his own joke and made a mental note to use it in a future tweet for when he inevitably fired one of his cabinet members.
KABOOM!
The God-Emperor and Luna jumped out of their skin as the throne room doors blew open, revealing dozens of bad hombres (and their queen).
And Shining Armor, but nobody cared about him.
“These illegals?” Trump asked Luna. “Or refugees?”
“No, they're my Changelings,” Chrysalis said as she stepped forward. “How nice to see you again, Luna. And you…” She eyeballed the Donald, much to his disdain.
“Donald Trump,” said the God-Emperor. “President of the greatest country on Earth. Billionaire, husband, father, grandfather, and billionaire.” Trump eyeballed the Changeling queen and chortled. “May I just say: you remind me of George Soros. Scary and decrepit... and somehow richer than me.”
Luna shot Trump a glare that would kill a lesser man (It had trouble getting through the ego). “Now is not the time for insulting, Trump!” she growled. She turned her attention back to the irritated (and equally perplexed) Chrysalis. “I'm, uh, sorry about him. He clearly doesn't know how to address royal-”
Before Luna could finish her sentence, Chrysalis zapped her with a powerful magic bolt, knocking the princess out. “Silence!” she decried. “I now control this kingdom!”
Trump glared at the Changeling queen and stood up. “I’ve defeated tyrants like you before, Christie,” he said as he stepped down and walked up to Chrysalis. “Now, if you don't want to be humiliated by my amazing Twitter skills, I suggest you take your little bug friends and go back to whatever backwards ass country you came from.”
Chrysalis stared at the God-Emperor in complete shock. She'd never come across someone who wasn't intimidated by her and her army!
Well, except the Minotaurs, but that was beside the point here.
No, what was the point is that she couldn't be defeated by this strange being. She wouldn't! Not after Twilight and her friends had gotten her sent into exile!
“You will bow before me!” With all of her might, Chrysalis charged up a spell as devious as any article written about Trump during his campaign and fired it off at him.
The God-Emperor ducked for cover behind a nearby pillar as the spell reduced Celestia's throne to ash. Before he could comprehend the danger that Chrysalis really posed, he felt a vastly weaker magic bolt strike his side, not unlike an insult hurled at him by Jeb Bush.
He turned around and saw a small bastion of Changelings all glaring at him. “Oh…” For once in his life Trump felt speechless. Mainly because the Changelings, up close, reminded him of the sewer rats of New York City, only if they were fused with rotten Swiss cheese.
The other, much smaller reason being that he realized he was most likely going to die at the hands of a bunch of alien bug equines.
“You sure we can't come to some sort of deal?” asked the God-Emperor as he backed away into a corner. “Maybe I can give you a lifetime of free golf at one of my courses. Or free Trump steaks?”
The Changelings remained silent and continued to advance towards the increasingly nervous God-Emperor.
“What if I make your queen my National Security Advisor?”
The Changelings stopped and talked amongst themselves in a hushed tone. After a bit they turned around and, without hesitation, began to absorb the love from the God-Emperor…
Only to begin attacking each other.
“He's horrible!” screamed one of the Changelings as he savagely beat another.
“He's the hero Equestria needs!” shouted another as it attempted to gnaw on another Changelings antenna.
“Huh, guess they were voters,” Trump said as he watched the bastion of Changelings tear themselves apart. He turned his attention back towards Chrysalis, who looked as though she'd just seen the most amazing thing in her entire life.
“H-how did you do that?” she stammered as she watched the Changelings continue to fight over whether the God-Emperor was the be all end all of politicians or not.
“What can I say? People love me,” Trump said. “Now, I think it's about time you get a healthy dose of freedom.”
ZAP!
Before the God-Emperor could even wind up even the slightest bit of freedom within his billionaire veins, Chrysalis fired off a magic bolt the likes of which would make even the most hard-pressed globalists shudder with fear (and arousal).
Trump staggered back in agony. He'd never faced an opponent that would dare to defy the American spirit so much.
Not even Crooked Hillary was this powerful!
I can't do this. Not alone, he thought. He glanced over at Luna's unconscious body and smirked. He quickly ran over to it (barely dodging Chrysalis's barrage of magic projectiles) and violently shook her body.
“W-what is it, daddy? School already?”
“Wake up, Pence! Or we’re going to be subjugated and forced to watch Rosie O’Donnell all day!”
Luna's eyes shot open. “Subjugated!?” she shrieked as a projectile narrowly missed her head. In a flash, Luna stood up and fired off a powerful beam of magic at the Changeling queen.
“Oh, bugger,” Chrysalis whispered as she was enveloped by it.
Not one to waste any time, the God-Emperor rolled up his sleeves and walked over to the now nearly roasted queen. As quick as lightning, he threw a rapid series of punches, catching the Changeling queen off guard—which had absolutely nothing to do with her having been nearly fried by the princess of the night.
THUD!
Chrysalis hit the ground, her face battered and swollen from the incredible amount of freedom and liberty (not to mention knowledge on trade deals) the God-Emperor had delivered to her.
Trump rolled his sleeves back down and walked up to her. “I must say, Christie, I usually only get workouts like that when I use Twitter,” he said as he loomed over the fallen queen. “But that's beside the point, for I must now take care of you once and for all.”
Chrysalis chuckled as she looked up at Trump. “Do your worst,” she said, her voice filled with contempt.
Trump furrowed his brow and adjusted his tie. He cleared his throat and pointed a finger at the queen. “You’re fired.”
Chrysalis's pupils dilated. “You can't fire me!” she shouted as the faint sound of an air horn could be heard in the distance. “You have no authority over me!”
The God-Emperor chuckled as several Changelings came rushing over and took the rambling Changeling queen away. “What a loon,” he thought aloud as Luna walked up beside him.
“A shame that you weren't reduced to a pile of ash,” she said, disappointed.
“Nothing can defeat the American spirit,” Trump said proudly. “Besides, without me, you never would've defeated that terrorist.”
“Yeah, my sister would've done it…” Luna muttered under her breath. She watched as the six foot tall beacon of freedom and hope aimlessly wandered around the throne room.
“So, what are you gonna do about the fugitive Changelings that just ran out of the White House unopposed?” the God-Emperor asked. He turned around to face Luna and shot her a glare that dwarfed the one she gave him earlier tenfold. “Or are we going to actually do something?”
“We’ll deal with it,” Luna replied. “For now, I have to figure out how to get my sister back, and send you back to whatever hellhole you came from.”
“Pence, when did you become Joe Biden?”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Best not to remember those times,” Trump replied. “Just go back to thinking about how to stop those radical Changelings. I'm gonna tweet.” With that, Trump took out his phone and immediately began to do so.
Just beat up a terrorist Changeling! Sources say Clinton's sent them! No shame!
After firing off another barrage of tweets that, once more, would never be seen by the public because Equus is several centuries behind Earth (~~or because of the Shadow Government~~), Trump put his phone away. “Hey, got a charger? My phone's battery is almost dead.
“No,” Luna deadpanned from behind a pillow fort, which had a sign that read ‘No Trump's Allowed’. “Now, let me be. I'm thinking.”
The Donald rolled his billionaire eyes and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
“Ah-hah!” Luna cried as she burst through her pillow fort and happily bounced around with a large smile on her face. “I’ve got it!”
Trump didn't object to the alicorn’s gleeful celebrating, considering he was fast asleep.
Luna rolled her eyes and walked over to the God-Emperor. “Wakey-wakey,” she said in a sing-song voice.
Trump groggily opened his eyes and yawned. “What is it Pence?”
“I have great news!” Luna beamed.
Trump raised an eyebrow and sat up. “Mexico’s gonna pay for the wall?”
Luna's smile was quickly replaced with a frown. “No,” she replied. “I just remembered that there's a spell in a book in the royal library that will send you back to whatever land you came from!”
“Pence, what did I tell you about-”
Before Trump could finish his sentence, Luna shoved a hoof in the God-Emperor's mouth. “Can it and come with me,” she said. “Or you're going to live with Pinkie Pie.”
Trump rolled his eyes. “Can’t be worse than CNN,” he said to himself as he followed the princess to the library, which proved to be a walk that even the God-Emperor himself found boring.
“Y’know, we should really put up a portrait of myself on this wall. It'd really liven things up,” he said as they arrived at the doors to the library. “Believe me, I know a thing or two about livening things up.”
“I don't care, Trumpelstiltskin!” Luna roared as she bucked open the doors. “Never have, never will!” With that, the princess of the night stormed into the library, doing her best to block out the sound of Trump, who continued to ramble on about how he knew the best decorators.
Where the hell is that stupid book!? Luna wondered as she frantically searched shelf after shelf of books. Ah-hah! She levitated off a large, turquoise colored book with several bizarre and indescribable symbols on it. “Oh, Trump!”
“Yes, Pence?” Trump asked as he put away his tax return forms. “Did Russia finally call back about the ship?”
“I found the book!” Luna said as she flipped it open.
“What boo-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Luna fired off a beam of magic that encompassed the God-Emperor in a light as vibrant as the morning sun and, within a few seconds, Celestia was where he had once stood.
“Sister!” Celestia said gleefully as she embraced Luna in a loving hug. “That’s the last time I ever take Flibanserin with red bull!”
Luna's eye inadvertently twitched. She broke away from the hug. “Celly?”
“Yes, Lulu?” Celestia asked hesitantly as she watched her sister's normally elegant mane begin to resemble one's hair after the stock market crashed.
“Never mention red bull ever again,” Luna snarled. “Please?”
“Um… I'll do my best,” Celestia said meekly.
“Great!” Luna said. “So, tell me, what was it like wherever you were?”
“Well…”
“Bannon!” Mike Pence shouted in a voice barely an octave higher than his normal speaking voice. “Will you please tell Donald to stop cosplaying as a pony? He needs to give his speech in two hours, and I can't do it for him this time!”
Steve Bannon poked his head through the doorway. Immediately, he became as white as Pence’s hair.
Princess Celestia was holding the vice-president hostage, a look of absolute terror on her face. “You're going to get me out of here right now!” she stammered.
“Maybe another time, Lulu.”
Author's Note
A bonus chapter from Princess Celestia's PoV will be out... Soon™.
Bonus Chapter: President Celestia
Author's Note
This chapter's dedicated to everyone who helped get this story featured. I never expected that to happen, but the fact it did really reinvigorated me. I'd fallen into a rut as far as writing goes, so consider this a love letter to all of you who helped undo that.
Bonus Chapter: President Celestia
Twas a morning like any other in the White House. Ben Carson was asleep in his soon-to-be office with a teddy bear, whilst Steve Bannon wondered if Milo was still fabulous, and spicy Sean Spicer spiced up his already spicy room.
And while the cabinet of the forty fifth president worked on making America great again, the CIA went around bugging their rooms in hopes of doing whatever the hell it is they do when they aren't redacting information in a totally not suspicious manner.
Then there was Mike Pence, who polished his crusader armor, mentally preparing for Halloween, despite it being the middle of February.
Nobody can fault someone for being methodical with their Halloween costume though, right?
Perhaps not, but our story doesn't concern that. No, what was of concern is the God-Emperor himself: Donald J. Trump. He was seated behind his desk, reading over an executive order that he was set to sign later that day.
Okay, we're going to rename the country Trumpland, he thought as he took a sip of his coffee. However as the cup touched his lips, a bright light surrounded him and, in a flash, the God-Emperor was gone. In his place was a large white alicorn, a bottle of pills and and a red bull, the latter two of which fell to the floor without a sound.
Thud!
The alicorn, on the other hand, broke the president’s chair.
Mike Pence heard the thud come from his boss's office and rolled his eyes. “Donald, are you okay?” he yelled out, expecting to receive an answer worthy of a short story.
To his shock though, there was nothing but the sounds of White House staff going about their business (and Jeff Sessions working).
Crap, Pence thought. Please God, don't let the Clintons to have finally gotten him. I don't want to be president. I don't want to have to spend any more time than I already do with Paul Ryan.
With a heavy sigh, Pence stood up and gently placed the crusader armor on his bed before making his way to his boss's office, which wasn't hard to spot.
Mainly because the door has been replaced with one made of solid gold. But there were other signs too, such as that was the room he knew to be the office in question, but the door was just the most obvious.
“Okay, don't worry, Pence,” the Prince-Emperor told himself. “He probably just broke the chair and is working from the floor. Again.” With a deep breath, Pence opened the door and almost immediately returned it to it's previous position as his eyes lay on something that no mortal man should ever have to see. (Aside from THAT, but we do not talk about it in polite conversation.)Oh, sweet Jesus, what did I ever do to deserve this?
“Howdy, Pence!”
The Prince-Emperor turned around and frowned. “Oh, hi, Paul,” he said as he attempted to conceal his not-so-subtle disdain for the speaker of the house (and for what he'd just seen, but mostly for the speaker). “What's up?”
“Not much,” Paul Ryan replied with a smile that could make a baby cry.(And probably has, it was just that bad.) “Just wanted to know why you're up so early. Don't you usually sleep until eight thirty?”
“I, uh, had to… read over an executive order!” Pence said, not realizing that what he said now meant he had to confront the horrors inside with the horrors outside, namely the person standing right in front of him.
As reality set in for the vice-president, he sighed and, begrudgingly, reopened the door, only to once again cringe at the sight.
Seated behind the president's desk was Princess Celestia, who bore a facial expression of complete and utter terror (with a touch of confusion).
“Donald,” the vice-president said, his face bearing an expression of utter shock, “why in the world are you cosplaying as a horse?”
“First of all, I'm an alicorn,” Celestia said. “Second of all: where am I and who on Equus is ‘Donald’!? And who are you two!?”
The Prince-Emperor and Ryan looked at each other. “Do you think he's only now realizing what his job is?” asked the speaker. “Or do you think he's just senile?”
Pence shook his head. “I think he's screwing with us,” he replied. “Hold on.” He walked up to the frightened princess and attempted to grab her mane.
Only to be hurled away by Celestia's immense magic.
“You dare attempt to touch my mane!?” the princess screamed as she trotted over and grabbed Pence with her telekinesis. “Tell me who you are you and where in Equestria I am!”
Pence rolled his eyes and let out a groan. “Okay, seriously Donald, why are you using top secret CIA technology against your own cabinet? I thought we told you not to play around with the levitation guns—let alone the anthropomorphic ones!” he asked as Celestia’s ever-increasing breathing grated on his nerves. “And why the heck does your breath smell of red bull? I thought you only drank coke!”
“I know not what you speak of,” Celestia replied. “I am most certainly not this ‘Donald’ pony you speak of, nor have I used any sort of ‘gun’ to obtain my magic!”
Pence shook his head and looked over at Paul Ryan, who looked as though he was in a catatonic state. “Ryan!” Pence snapped in a voice no different than his normal speaking one. “Go fetch the secret service. Tell them Trump's being Trump again!”
Ryan nodded and ran out the door, much to Celestia's aggravation. “What's this ‘secret service’!?” the princess snarled.
“Donald, did you get amnesia from your fall?” Pence asked, a hint of worry in his voice. “Because if you did, I want you to know that I stole your lunch last week, not Flynn.”
Before Celestia could retort, a voice came from outside the oval office.
“Hey, Donald, you okay in there?” asked the God-Emperor's chief strategist, Steve Bannon. “I heard a loud thud come from your office earlier and was worried that you might've had a heart attack.”
“Bannon!” Pence shouted, his voice barely an octave higher than his normal speaking voice once again. “Thank God you're here! Listen, will you please tell Donald to stop cosplaying as a pony and tell him to undo whatever he did? I just remembered that he needs to give his speech in two hours, and I can't do it for him this time!”
Steve Bannon poked his head through the doorway. Immediately, he became as white as Pence’s hair.
“You! You're going to get me out of here right now!” Celestia stammered as she tightened her hold on the vice-president.
Without a word, Bannon walked into the room and shut the door behind him. “Pence, is that a talking horse?”
“I'm an alicorn!” Celestia retorted; insulted.
“Riiight…” Bannon took out a small journal from his pocket which bore the title What Andrew Breitbart Would Do? and flipped through it. “Uhhh… damn it, he didn't have anything for magic horses.”
“Alicorn!”
“I don't care! You look like a horse, therefore you're a horse!” Bannon snapped. “Now let Pence go, Donnie. I don't wanna have to burn another hundred dollar bill just because you screwed around with top secret technology and you wouldn't listen to me.”
“Not until you tell me who you are and where I am!” Celestia growled. “If you don't do so, I'll be mildly unhappy!”
Bannon groaned and covered his face upon realizing that he—mister Breitbart himself—had just been defeated by a horse that looked like something he’d see if he did mushrooms with Bozo the Clown.
But, he had an ace up his sleeve: lying!
“My name's Keku, God of Chaos, and you're in my realm now,” he said with a devious grin. “Now, we had an agreement. Let Pence go.”
Celestia's eyes widened as the breath inside her escaped. “Discord!” she shouted. “I thought you'd been reformed!”
Bannon took a step back. “Discord?” he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. “I-I mean-” he attempted to regain his composure, but not before feeling the full force of Celestia charged into him.
The duo broke through the door and into the hallway wall. “You'll never defeat me, Discord!” Celestia shouted, which caught the group of Secret Service agents (along with Paul Ryan) as off guard as the election results.
“There!” Ryan said, still trying to grasp what he'd just see. “That's the president! I think…”
“You think?” asked one of the agents. “What do you mean you think?”
“I mean that that's either the president, or the thing that ate him!” Ryan snapped. “Either way, just capture the damn thing or I'm going to make sure you go to jail for disobeying a direct order from your superior!”
“Do we even have an acting president?” asked another Secret Service agent.
“Do I have to repe-”
And then Celestia charged through them.
“Bravo, you idiots, you've been run over by what looks like a child's favorite cartoon character,” Ryan said, dazed. “How's it feel?”
“About as good as your approval ratings,” replied the first agent.
As the agents and Ryan bickered like a room of senior citizens at a game of bingo, Mike Pence ran out of the and over to Bannon. “You okay?” he asked as his heart raced.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Bannon said as he stood up. “I think that horse broke a rib or two. No big deal though. I'll walk it off.”
“Are you sure you're fine?” Pence asked. “I mean, if you think you've broken two ribs, shouldn't you go to the hospital?”
“Mike, if you ask me if I'm fine one more time, I swear that I'm selling your crusader armor and buying myself a beachfront mansion, along with a GQ model.”
Before Pence could retort, Ryan and the Secret Service agents ran up. “Hey, not to interrupt your conversation, but we have to go get our president,” the speaker said. “Or whatever took him away to their mother ship.”
“Oh, right,” Pence said. “Kinda forgot that there was a horse on the loose in the White House… what're we waiting on?”
“You,” Bannon and Ryan both deadpanned.
“Oh… well, let's go!” Pence said as he ran down the hallway, the other two cabinet members (and agents) in tow.
Luckily, it didn't take long for them to find where Celestia had gone, as they came across the Secretary of State's office door wide open.
From outside the office of the oil maestro himself, the group could see it had been ransacked, as though something had tore through with the fury of a hundred oil rigs.
“Oh, that's not good,” Ryan said. “That's really not good.”
“Oh, c'mon, Rex can handle himself just fine,” Bannon said. “Why are you suddenly worried?”
“I'm not worried about Rex,” Ryan replied. “I'm worried about-”
“Why the in God's good name is there a talking horse in my damn office!?”
A stack of papers suddenly flew out of the doorway and crashed into two of the Secret Service agents, both of whom reeled back in pain (and subsequently into the group of politicians).
“Get the hell out of my room before I regulate your ass into next year!”
Celestia ran out of the secretary's room, with a look of terror so great that to describe it would be to describe things that aren't meant to be.
Or in this case, things that are Rex Tillerson, who stepped out into the hallway as he watched Celestia teleport past the group of politicians and agents.
“And don't come back unless you want oil!” he yelled as Celestia turned the corner. He then fixed his gaze onto the group. “Oh, hey! Didn't see you guys there.”
“I see you met with the president,” Pence replied as he helped one of the agents up. “Or princess, whoever the heck she is.”
“Very funny,” Tillerson said. “Now seriously, why did a talking horse come into my office and ransack, talking about having to get back to Equestr-I really don't care, just tell me why I'm having a fever dream.”
“I think Trump got his hands on a CIA you,” Bannon said. “Now c'mon, we need all the help we can get before he hurts someone—or someone leaks to the public that their president just turned into a cartoon character.”
“You mean he already isn't one?” Rex said with a chuckle.
“Ask Pompeo if you really want to to know,” Pence replied. “Now, as Bannon said: let's go!”
And so the group of politicians made their way through the halls of the White House, passing many staff members who looked as though they'd seen a ghost.
Though for all the group knew, they'd actually seen Abraham Lincoln’s ghost.
But, ghost hunting with the Trump Administration would have to wait, for up ahead was yet another open door.
This one, however, led to the man himself.
He who could make any journalist REEEEEE into the night.
The spice master himself.
“By the fakest of fake news, has CNN engineered a talking alicorn to act in Jake Tapper's place?!”
Sean Spicer.
The group of politicians (and secret service agents) ran into the spiciest of the spices office, which was covered in newspapers, magazines, and pictures of various news reporters (each of which was attached to a dartboard).
“Oh, hey guys!” Spicer said as he held out a copy of the New York Times towards Celestia. “Say, mind explaining the creepy alicorn? I was trying to think of roasts for the next press conference when she came in asking about… I dunno, requestria? Something…”
“It's Equestria!” Celestia said. “And I didn't mean to disturb you, I just… GAH! You're all useless!” she yelled, not realizing she'd just said that to Paul Ryan's face, to which the faint sound of a violin began to come from seemingly nowhere.
Alas, nobody gave a shit.
With that, Celestia teleported past the group. “You shall never capture me!” she cried.
“I thought you wanted to get back home?” Tillerson asked. “Isn't that why you turned my office into Obamacare?”
Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but shut it almost immediately.
She hadn't realized how absurd her plan (if she could even call it that) was. In fact, she wasn't even sure she’d thought out a way to get back home.
But maybe it was the fear of her unfamiliar surroundings that made her bolt out of the room. Or the fact that the man who called himself ‘Keku’ exuded an aura that made Celestia so uneasy, she could've mistaken him for Sombra.
Or maybe it was the red bull.
Whatever the case, she left the group of cabinet members in Spicer's office wondering just what the hell happened.
“So, would anyone explain what the hell just happened?”
Like so.
“No, really, what the hell just happened!” Spicer repeated. “I've seen some weird shit; I’ve seen the memes that came during this presidency’s campaign!”
“What's a meme?” Ryan asked. “Is that a kind of budget plan?”
“No, dipstick, it's a kind of quesadilla,” Spicer replied. “Now, I'll ask again: why was the stuff of nightmares in my office asking to go home?”
The group of politicians shrugged, an apt response given their profession.
“You guys have no idea whatsoever?”
“Well, I personally think it wants to go home, but that's just a hunch,” Bannon said. “Though, we should probably go figure out where it went. Y'know, before it ends up... escaping…”
The once carefree environment died a swift death as the group realized that the repercussions of the talking, magic horse making it to the outside world was a lot worse than most tweets normally put out by their boss.
“Shit,” Pence said as he covered his face. “Um… okay, you guys,” he said as he pointed at two of the secrets l service agents, “I want you to go guard the entrance to the White House.”
“And me?” asked the third, nameless agent.
“Go bake a cake.”
“Really?”
“No, numbnuts, you're staying with us.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Excellent,” Pence said as two of the agents left the room. “Now, where could that horse have gone?”
“Maybe it's already escaped,” Ryan said. “Maybe CNN’s already making a report as we speak!”
“Ryan, don't make my blood pressure skyrocket,” Pence replied. “I at least want to survive one term.”
Knock knock
Pence turned his head and looked at the doorway, and was greeted by Jeff Sessions. “Oh, hi Jeff.”
“Oh, goodie, you guys aren't dead!” the attorney general said with unearthly glee. “Say, mind explaining why the third Podesta sibling was just in my office?”
“Wait, that stupid horse made it to your office?” Tillerson asked. “Well, looks like our bickering was productive!”
“Oh, yeah, she went apeshit,” Sessions said. “She broke my laptop, pinched my wall, and broke my globe… and also ate my lunch…”
“What did you have for lunch?” Ryan asked.
“A chocolate chip cookie.”
The group gasped in unison. “Let's avenge the cookie!” they all cried.
And, just like that, they all stormed out of the room, as though they'd just became Spartans.
But enough about what the cabinet does in their spare time.
The ragtag gang made their way down the hallway, hot on the trail of Celestia's path of destruction (or rather, ransacked rooms).
Yes, even though she's thousands of years old, Celestia can't seem to clean up after herself.
Fortunately, neither do politicians, as Paul Ryan threw an apple core behind him and cleared his throat and asked, “Y'know, what if this… alicorn is actually some sort of alien?”
“Then it's probably going to report back to its queen that we’re the worst houseguests they've ever met,” Pence replied. “And we're probably all going to be enslaved by their freakishly colorful army.”
“Oh, c'mon, don't doubt the Mad Dog like that,” Bannon said. “Besides, you don't really think that thing's some sorta alien, right?”
“I don't!” Spicer said. “I think it's Jeb.”
“You're kidding, right?” asked Sessions.
“No, I'm being ironic, you numskull.”
“Oh…”
Pence chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I, on the other hand, think it's that or it's the product of whatever goes on in Pompeo’s office on Taco Thursday,” the Prince-Emperor said. “Though, aren't aliens suppose to have eyes as big as Bannon's ego?”
“Hey, shut it, Pence!” Bannon's snapped. “Nothing’s as big as my ego!”
“Hey, are you doubting my ego!?” Tillerson asked as he got up in Bannon's face and glared into his eyes.
Before the two men could engage in a battle of the egos (and kickstart a potentially much more coherent story), Paul Ryan’s sixth sense kicked in. “Okay, before we enter a pissing contest,” he said, “aren’t we forgetting someone who's also here at the White House?”
The group all stopped and thought. Within seconds, a sudden realization hit them all.
“OH SHIT!”
Celestia had heard stories of humans—what with the mirror that Sunset Shimmer had gone through being a portal to a dimension filled with them.
However, she never imagined that Discord—or an entity like Discord—could be so powerful as to trap her in its realm.
Though she had to admit, it had a good taste in decor. Paintings of what Celestia imagined to be its followers—such as ‘George Washington’ and ‘Thomas Jefferson’ lined the walls while a red carpet covered a hardwood floor.
This was truly unlike any place she'd been.
Alas, sightseeing wasn't on her mind right now.
Rather, it was attempting not to panic as she did before.
How could I be so reckless and mean!? Celestia berated herself. I’ve no doubt ruined the only people who could've helped me get back home by taking one of their own hostage! What the hell is wrong with me!?
Celestia stopped in the middle of the hallway and fell the her haunches. I’ve taught so many ponies the meaning of friendship and I no doubt just shattered the one chance I had at friendship with these humans…
“Halt!” came a voice from behind the princess. “You have nowhere to run!”
Celestia turned around to see the ragtag group of cabinet members and Paul Ryan (not to mention Secret Service agents) roughly eight feet behind her; the agents aiming their guns at the princess.
“Eek!” Celestia shrieked as she teleported up the hallway.
“Huh, guess we should've expected that…” said Bannon. “Damn magic horses.”
“ALICORN!” Celestia shouted back.
“Still don't care!” Bannon replied.
Celestia rolled her eyes and ran away once more. Maybe I should try diplomacy with the next human I meet, she thought. Maybe they won't try to shoot me.
Lucky for Celestia, Lady Luck heard her thought as a door up the hall seemed inviting…
Until she got closer, for an unusual foreboding feel began to come from it.
Perhaps it was because of the title that the person in question had.
Secretary of Defense General James N. Mattis!
“If generals are anything like they are back home, then I'm in luck!” Celestia said to herself as she approached the door. “This fellow can definitely help me get back home.” The princess gently knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” came a gruff, intimidating voice from the other side.
“Princess Celestia of Equestria!” replied Celestia in a singsong voice. “I wish to know how I can back home.”
“Uhh… right… I'm not the diplomat, Nikki Haley is,” replied the voice. “Sorry.”
“No, you don't understand!” Celestia said as she opened the door slightly. “I somehow got teleported here and now some of the people here are chasing me and I think they want to kill me and I need someone to help me! Please, I don't want to die!”
General Mattis stared wide eyed at the princess who was halfway into his room. He slowly took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief on his desk. “Nope, you're definitely a talking horse,” he said. “By God, I've finally lost it.”
“I'm an alicorn, not a horse!” Celestia growled. “I swear if someone calls me that one more time-”
“You threaten to me and you're going to regret it for the rest of your damn life,” Mattis said. “Now, will you please explain to me why the hell you've got half the president's cabinet behind you?”
Celestia turned around and gasped.
Pence wasn't sure whether to be horrified or relieved.
On one hand, the alien/president/CIA escapee was in a room with the secretary of defense, which terrified the ever living shit out of him—especially since he had no idea if Mattis was now some sort of pastel colored freaky-deaky alien on the inside.
On the other hand, Mattis wasn't on the floor dead.
Nonetheless, this felt like a net loss. But, that didn't stop the Prince-Emperor from attempting to feel as though all might not be lost.
“Stop right there, Celestrump…” Pence tapped his chin as he tried to remember what he thought Celestia actually was.
“Stop right there, scary horse!” Sessions said from the back of the group. “Erm, alicorn…”
“I give up,” Celestia said. “But that doesn't matter.” She approached the group cautiously and, in as motherly of a tone as she could, said, “Listen, I just want help to get back to where I came from. Now, please, can you help me out?” She looked at Bannon with doleful eyes. “Even you, Discord… thing…?”
Bannon scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Now the magic horse uses diplomacy,” he said sardonically. “Figures she does this after we've finally cornered her like a rat.”
Tillerson held back a laugh. “Uh, Bannon, are you sure you wanna do that in front of the thing that-”
And then Celestia shot a magic bolt at Bannon, which sent him flying back into a wall.
Rex turned around and looked at the chief strategist, who looked like a 1950’s cartoon character, complete with birds orbiting his head, tweeting just like his boss.
“Serves you right, Stevie Wonder!” Rex said with a chuckle.
Then he himself was blasted away.
“Ow…”
Celestia looked at the now less-than happy politicians.
“Um… sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I got scared by his aggressiveness…”
“Mattis, could you potentially get someone from the national guard here?” Pence asked. “I feel this definitely isn't Trump. He no doubt would've gone after Ryan first.”
“Hey!” the speaker snapped. “Why me?”
“Oh, forgot you were here,” Pence said. “You’re more forgettable than Ash Carter.”
Celestia watched in confusion as the group began to bicker, until she finally decided to do the sensible thing: take advantage of their nonsensical bull crap and run the hell away.
Much to the politicians confusion.
Well, except for Steve.
“Hey, she's getting away!” Bannon said as he finally snapped out of his magic-induced stupor. “Get her before she votes Democrat!”
Like a pack of rabid wolves (or, in this case, elephants), the bickering politicians turned their attention to princess Celestia, who continued to run the hell away.
And run she did. She ran and ran…
All the way back to the gold door she'd emerged from barely an hour earlier.
“Halt, foul magic alien!” Sessions said as he approached Celestia ever so slowly. “You're under arrest for trespassing on government property and aggravated assault!”
“You can't arrest me!” the princess snapped. “You don't have the jurisdiction to do so!”
“Our planet, our rules,” Sessions retorted. “Now, put your legs behind your back.”
“No!” Celestia said. “I won't allow it!”
WHAM!
Sessions was thrown back by the force of the single sharpest left hook he'd ever seen.
“Hey, only I get to do that!” Pence roared as he ran up to Celestia. “Face the wrath of Michael ‘Silver Fox’ Pence!”
In one swift, lightning fast motion, Pence uppercut the pretty pony princess into the oval office. “DEUS VULT!” he yelled as he knocked the wind out of her and then some.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Pence said as he realized what he'd just done to the now motionless Celestia, Pence. hastily moved over a bookcase and sat down in front of it.
“Uh, you know she has magic, right?” Bannon asked as he attempted to conceal an ever growing grin. “She's going to no doubt blast her way through after she gets up—and will no doubt want to kick your ass to whatever planet she comes from.”
“Ah, crap,” Pence said. “Whatever, tell my wife I love her and that I'll see her wherever I end up.”
“Never would've taken you for a pessimist, Mike!” Sessions said from around the corner. “You always seemed so energetic and-”
“Jeff, you're not funny,” Pence said as he slowly got up. “Now, any idea what we should do now that our boss is trapped behind my impenetrable barricade?”
“Shoot it?” suggested Mattis.
“Arrest it?” Sessions chimed in.
“Mail it to CNN and call it Wolf Blitzers mother?” the Spice maestro said.
The group of cabinet members all looked at Sean, who looked as though he was the proudest man on Earth.
“What?” he asked as he realized the undivided attention he was receiving. “I thought we hated CNN.”
“Yeah, but… what if it ends up actually being Trump?” Pence asked. “I meant that seems like it'd be kinda hard to explain, no?”
“Good point,” Sean replied. “Then let's just take a picture and send it!”
“Genius!” Tillerson said as he took out a camera seemingly from thin air. “Let's get on it right this-”
POOF!
Before the oil mogul could finish what he was saying, a bright light came from behind the door.
“The aliens have finally arrived! Everyone, get your tinfoil hats and butt plugs!” Sessions shrieked. “And don't forget they hate water!” He turned around and attempted to run away, but not before Mattis grabbed him by the collar.
“Oh no you don't!” the general snarled. “If there are aliens behind that door, I want every man here to make a last stand if they don't come in peace!”
Knock knock
“Uh, guys? My door's jammed. Can someone please open it?”
A sense of relief swept across the group of politicians as they all pushed the bookcase aside, at which point the God-Emperor himself, Donald J. Trump, emerged from the oval office, much to the relief (and delight) of his cabinet—and whatever position that one strange CIA guy in the back of the group of politicians holds.
“What are you all doing in the White House?” asked the God-Emperor in an irritated voice. “Don't some of you work in the Pentagon?”
“I think the better question is why were you a magical horse!?” Pence asked his boss. “Seriously, you kept saying you were from Equestria. You had us worried!”
“Yeah, yeah, that's nice,” Trump said. “C'mon, let's get something to eat. I'm starving.”
The Prince-Emperor covered his face and let out a heavy sigh. “Sean?” he asked the press secretary as the two stood next to each other while Trump made his way down the hall.
“Yeah, Mike?” asked Sean.
“CNN’s gonna have a field day with this, aren't they?”
“Oh yeah,” Sean said as the reality of being asked why people reported hearing equine noises from the oval office dawned on him. “It's going to be a nightmare…” He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “No matter though. I always have you to help, right?”
Silence.
“Mike?” Sean asked. “Miiiike!?”
“Feels bad man,” croaked a voice to Spicer's right side.
Sean looked over and froze as his eyes locked into a gaze with a humanoid frog, which stood up against the wall, holding a small copy of the Constitution up near its chin, and sporting a Make America Great Again cap.
I need to lay off the Trump wine...
