Guilty Pleasure

Small sacrifices are what’s required to make sure interaction between ponies and politics continues to run smoothly. In the week following Twilight’s letter, I somehow manage to work down the pile on my desk to roughly half its original size. It means a few hours of sleep less every night, but that isn’t too big a sacrifice if it means a slightly tidier desk, and a load off my mind. I wasn't sleeping very well in the first place and I would almost go so far as to say that I’m proud of the amount of work I got done in such a relatively short span of time.

Of course, all that is undone the moment Morning Joy arrives.

“Mail~” She singsongs while throwing open the double doors to my room, and pulling in an entire cartload full of the hated white rectangles. I don’t recall when, where, or why I gave her carte blanche to enter my room without knocking first, and the amount of regret I feel now is immense.

Looking in her direction, all my fried mind can think to do is sigh. If I wasn’t so exhausted from trying to write a reply to the Zebra’s trade agreement in rhyme, my greeting would have been less than polite.

As it stands, it takes me entirely too much effort to form a reply at all. “Anything other than the usual complaints?”

“No complaints today,” she replied cheerily. “Well, maybe one or two, but it’s mostly well wishes and declarations of love.”

Declarations of love? I stop myself from showing too much interest. There’s no way that Twilight wrote that many love letters, is there? No, if she had they would have been spread out over time, not all delivered at once.

“How many are there?” I can hear myself asking.

“Eighteen hundred and seventy two,” she replies with that ever present smile. “That’s even more than last year.”

Only Hearts and Hooves Day could be responsible for such an influx of love letters. Either that, or someone’s been fooling around with love magic again. Morning Joy’s remark about it being more than last year makes that option less likely, however, and I can’t help but wonder if one of them is Twilight’s. Would she be bold enough to write me a love letter?

It is only after a minute or two of daydreaming about that very possibility that it dawns on me; I’m fantasising about Twilight being in love with me, without knowing if she even realises that she’s been in my room. I touch my lips with a hoof, which, thankfully, Morning Joy doesn’t realise the significance of.

“Would you like me to write the replies in your stead?” she asks, as she does every year. She’s a dedicated mare who keeps my correspondence manageable, albeit barely. I couldn’t be more appreciative for her hard work, and perhaps... perhaps it’s time she got some assistance. Now I remember. I gave her permission to come in without knocking after she read, and replied to, most every letter during a heart and hooves day some years ago during which I’d contracted a bad case of the feather flu.

“Please do. I’ve seen enough paper for one day.” I get up from my desk and stretch throwing a single lingering glance at my bed before smiling at Morning Joy and stepping through the open doors, into the hallway.

“Would you like to read them to you later?” she calls out after me.

I stop three steps outside my room and look over my shoulder. “Pick out the thirty you like best if you would. I’ll reply to those personally,” I tell her. It’s not a great deal of extra work, and it gives her the impression that I am as devoted to what ponies write to me as she is.

Small sacrifices.

Another three steps and a dozen castle guards fall in step behind me, six on either side. For the better part of the week, they’ve been following me wherever I go, just shy of accompanying into my own room (one of them tried, but after a firm scolding he wisely asked to be posted somewhere else). Something has them riled up, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what.

It is a small niggle. Swiftly forgotten in the face of a good breakfast, which is my goal as I make my way towards the kitchen.

-

Three meals and one, long, distraction filled, day later, I’m just about ready to lose my mind. There was no court today, for no other reason than my having to receive and entertain a dignitary from the Savanna Coalition; a leopard. A nice enough fellow as dignitaries go, but there’s something about him that makes my neck hairs stand on end every time I see him. And not just because he’s a shrewd diplomat and manages to carve out a more favorable position for his coalition whenever we renegotiate terms.

He’s not the reason for my mental exhaustion, however. Sure, it doesn’t help, but the constant question my mind keeps drifting back to about what a love-letter from Twilight would look like are what’s really bothering me. If the pattern holds, she’ll visit again tonight, and I cannot help but dread her arrival. Or is it anticipation?

My being awake far after setting the sun would suggest the former... I think. There are some things arranged throughout the room that suggest the latter, however. Carefully arranged candles (three of which are scented), a soft romantic melody from the third age that so moved me at the time I committed it to memory, fresh sheets in case she does want to sleep over... and a whole set of new spells to protect my room from intruders.

The last one doesn’t make a whole lot of sense at first glance. I thought about it a great deal, and changed my stance on it twice. First I was going to do it because I valued my privacy, two minutes after that I’d decided not to because I doubted that Twilight would have a whole lot of problems with them, and after that... well, if there’s one thing I know about Twilight, it’s that she relishes a challenge.

Arranging everything just so couldn’t have taken me more than an hour, but only now, sitting on my bed, does it occur to me that there’s little else to do but wait. A brief glance towards my desk reveals that that isn’t entirely true, but honestly, I don’t feel like working any more today.

So I wait.

Half an hour later, I’m wondering what she’ll say when she arrives. What she’ll do...

And wait.

An hour later my fantasies have taken a definitive turn for the sordid, and the clean sheet are no longer quite as fresh. I stave off doing anything about it, however.

And wait...

After two hours, I’m starting to worry that I made the new defenses on my room too powerful. What if she can’t get in? It’s tempting to take down the spells, if only to make it easier for her... but no. Twilight has shown that she can break through them easily, which means she just hasn’t arrived up yet.

All I can do... is wait.

I eye the desk again.

Come morning I wake up with a sore neck and my head on a squeaky clean desk. It seems I worked through my entire backlog of correspondence in an evening. Twilight never showed, which shouldn’t surprise me. Just because she showed up a week apart the last two times doesn’t mean it would happen again, and yet a part of me wants to curse the mare for being so inconsiderate.

I’m a busy mare, with a schedule that doesn’t allow for a whole lot of time for recreation, or even relaxation. Wasting an evening like this is something I can ill afford. It’s all Twilight’s fault. If she hadn’t bothered me in the first place, I wouldn’t be having any of these problems. But if she must, then she could at least have been considerate enough to not appear in my dreams. Or at the very least be more adorable than sexy. Both are admittedly distracting, but the latter is so much more of a lasting distraction.

It shouldn’t bother me this much. Relax, Celestia. Relax and go to breakfast. Belatedly I realise that there’s more than one reason I should be heading towards the Grand Dining Hall. Luna wanted to share a meal and talk before she went to bed today.

A good deal of stretching and a few muttered insults at Twilight’s address later, I’m in the hallway. She hounds my thoughts incessantly while I make my way to Luna. Why couldn’t she have just shown up? Why didn’t she?

An emotion I’ve not felt in some time suddenly burns in my heart. What if she’s shown up in somepony else’s bedroom? Did I just waste away a night that could have been spent productively sleeping while she drunkenly made out with Pinkie Pie? Or any of her other friends? Or even Luna?

I begin walking again. But even though I try to keep my pace steady, my hooves carry me forward ever faster, until I’m all but galloping down to the Dining Hall. She had better not have done anything to Twilight. With Twilight.

“Luna!” My booming voice precedes me, sending a wave of quiet rippling through the halls, conversations coming to a halt as ponies stare at me. At the grand table at the far end of the hall, Luna similarly looks up with a questioning glance. It shakes my good sense loose from wherever it had got hung up. Just what was I thinking shouting like that? I do very much want to know if Luna’s had an experience similar to mine, but I wouldn’t want to have her realise what’s been going on if she hasn’t. To say nothing to having Twilight’s midnight visits become public knowledge.

“Good morning, sister,” Luna says at a conversational level once I’ve made my way over to the table. “It has been ages since We heard thee use the Voice. What’s happened? Should We be concerned?”

Her words immediately set me thinking, or scheming, I guess. It’s a good question. What, aside from the truth, could have happened to make me yell for my sister like I did? A nightmare perhaps? Risky, given that Luna knows more than I about the other side of the veil, but I can’t think of anything else that would make sense quickly enough.

“A nightmare of a sort,” I say after a moment, sitting down opposite her at the table, and treating her to an exhausted smile. I find I don’t even need to fib the exhausted part.

As I feared, she merely arches an eyebrow. “Surely you jest? I would know if one tried to harass your dreams, sister.”

“I said ‘of a sort’,” I counter, relieved that I included little clarity in my response. “I suppose it was more of a strange dream. I don’t remember all of it, but you and I had been turned into fruit and were being swept up by a storm, and later down a river before landing in a circus troupe and learning how to safely be shot out of a canon.” It’s a load of drivel of the highest order, but it’s just nonsensical enough to be a dream somepony could have actually had at some point.

Luna seems to think it over while she chews on what looks like a snack cake. “Specifics vary from dreamer to dreamer, but such a dream usually relates to feeling trapped, or otherwise burdened by circumstance without any agency to change said circumstance.” From her expression, I can make out that she’s worried about me, even if she doesn’t say as much. “Is it something I did?” She asks after the snack cake has disappeared.

Normally I would tease her about becoming a little pudgy, but whether it’s the lack of sleep, or the genuine worry on her face, I decide not to. “No, Luna. It’s probably just my subconscious telling me I’m long overdue for a vacation.”

“But you feel like you cannot?”

Her question is an innocuous one at the surface, but I’ve known Luna long enough that the almost imperceptible knitting together of her eyebrows lets me know what she’s really asking. She’s afraid I don’t trust her. That I think things would fall apart in my absence. What she doesn’t realise is that even if she were the most capable ruler in Equestria, she still wouldn’t be able to direct all the goings on without a three year course on the intricacies of the political system, a six month primer on the basic psychology of modern day nobles, and a network of spies so complex that even I’m not sure which of them are really on our side.

“Not can not. Should not.” I reply, finally sitting down and pouring some cream into the coffee cup already ready for me. It’s the simplest thing on this table, an earthenware mug with simple black lettering that reads ‘Best Princess’. It was a gift from Twilight some number of years ago. Any attempts to serve me in anything but have, over the years, been met with stern looks from said filly. Or do I call her a mare now? Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that the circumstances I find myself in have rather clarified exactly what she meant with the sentiment.

I stare at the cup for a moment, pretending to be waiting for the drink to cool. Is there any point in questioning how long she might have felt this way? Should I have been watching for signs before she started coming to my bedchamber and acting on her desires? And more to the point, would I have done anything differently had I known?

“Sister, clearly more is going on if a simple dream troubles you so.” Luna says from the other side of the table. “Would you like me to take over a few of your court sessions to help ease your burdens?” She sneakily grabs another cake in her magic. She’s turning into a bigger pastry-lover than I am. “Even if it isn’t quite enough, perhaps it would allow you at least a day to relax.”

My ears perk up as she mentions court, as that tends to be the most exhausting and time-consuming part of my day. There is still the day to day paperwork, mostly involving rubber-stamping documents too important to delegate to lesser bureaucratic offices, but a day free from court would potentially help me get my frazzled mind back in order, since my nights have become less than restful.

“That... that sounds wonderful, Luna,” I tell her with no small amount of gratitude. I can hardly believe I was only just now entertaining thoughts of jealousy. Twilight’s infuriating actions, or inactions in this case, are really wearing on my nerves.

“Think nothing of it, sister. I’m happy to do my part,” she says, looking pleased. It warms my heart to see it. More than ever, I feel deeply just how much I missed her during her long absence.

We eat in silence for a time. Or rather, I eat. Even without knowing just how long it’s been since she started, Luna looks as though she has gorged herself on snacks and pastries, and looks a little ill. I can’t blame her, cuisine has improved by leaps and bounds over the ages, but perhaps I should warn her a little next time.

“Which days would you like me to free up?” she asks, subtly pushing her plate away.

Had I any ideas, I would tell her right away. Problem is, I don’t. I can’t honestly remember the last time I made an appointment that had nothing to do with ruling the country, let alone leave a day intentionally blank. Not to mention my schedule which is filled to the brim for at least half a year hence. “Let me think about it for a minute,” I tell her, before silently resuming my meal. The meal, and the accompanying fruit-shake that Mead insists I take, all pass without any brilliant insights. There is, however, one thing. Remembering Twilight’s letter, and the invitation contained therein, I lean forward a little, pushing my now-empty glass out of the way with a hoof. “How about today? I actually have an invitation which I was going to pass on, but if you—”

“Splendid!” Luna exclaims, knocking over a goblet with wine in her enthusiasm. “Go! Write to them that you have made the time, and then rest. We shall return to the throne room and consult with Our advisors on how best to tackle such a sudden change.” she smiles with a slightly sinister glint to her eyes, and I wonder if I have made the right decision after all. "Truthfully, we relish the challenge. The ponies you call nobles have become soft over the ages, We shall teach them to respect the crown once more."

I would much rather enjoy the rest of my breakfast first, but I am denied that option when Luna suddenly appears on my side of the table. One vigorous hug and a bright smile later, she pushes me all the way to the door and slams it shut behind us.

Never let it be said that I let others make decisions for me. While Twilight didn’t specify a time in her letter, I doubt the party starts any earlier than sundown; Ponyville still had a working economy last time I checked. Which leaves me with a little time before I absolutely have to reply. As for resting... well...

I am not some young foal that cannot function if I do not get enough sleep. I’m proud to say that I’ve gone without for weeks at a time when the need arose. Which is not to say that I can’t sleep. I’m not some pre-teen filly either, incapable of finding rest because her head is filled with thoughts and imagined scenarios of her crush. I am a Princess, dammit, and I’ll do as I please.

Which begs the question... what do I please?

A walk through the gardens. That sounds good. I think I’ll use the time to appreciate the beauty of the gardens. And the beauty that is good food, of course.

It’s as easy as telling one of the maids to bring food to the gardens, and then heading out to one of the gazebos on the grounds. The sweets arrive without delay, and only then does it dawn on me just how early in the day it is. The sun is still climbing to its zenith, and for the first time in far too long, I have a quiet moment to myself. Unclaimed by any sort of necessity or plan.

The spot I’ve chosen is in the middle of the flower-fields. Cordoned off by ivy carefully grown in the vertical space, the surroundings are flowers all around. There’s simple but beautiful ones, such as roses, tulips, and dendrobiums; a few that I don’t personally care for, but most appreciate like orchids; and a few more exotic plants like starshine bluebells, shimmering dahlias and a lone phoenix flower.

While the last one is certainly the more stunning and rare of the three —blooming and dying constantly within a two week cycle, thereby making it a hazard for all flowers around it— I’ve always enjoyed the idea of Starshine Bluebells the most. One of the legends that have sprung up around it speaks of a lone mare who created and planted them all over the world so that her lover (who was apparently some sort of space farer) would always be able to find his way back.

Walking around and looking over the plants as they intermingle, my attention is constantly drawn back to the soft, almost shy, vulnerable blue color that will nevertheless light up and draw attention to itself come night time. It does not actually have a bell-like shape as its name would suggest, but rather looks like a four pointed star similar to the ones up in the sky at night.

Knowing its true origins —a half baked magical experiment of Starswirl’s to create a sentient plant— doesn’t detract from the romanticism of the prevailing legend. I guess, deep down, I’m just a hopeless romantic.

With the hint of a smile I lean down to smell one of them. The soft scent is comparable to elderberries mixed with a sharp tinge of nightmare peppers, and a hint of vanilla. Starswirl might not have achieved his intended goal, but he certainly managed to create something beautiful and unique.

Beautiful and unique. Terms that I could just as easily apply to Twilight. She’s actually the main reason I know so much about these flowers. Normally I let the gardeners worry about the composition and arrangement of flowers in their respective gardens, were it not for Twilight asking me for this one specifically.

With a yawn (concealed behind a hoof out of reflex), I make my way back to the gazebo in the center. I can always walk around more later, right now I just want to enjoy the rest of the sweets. Laying back in the sunchair, my mind drifts back to when the flowers were first planted, with a young filly standing not three feet from me, glaring at them as if it would make them grow faster. She’s always been passionate about whatever she is studying, devouring the books to find the knowledge therein, metaphorically of course.

Which makes me wonder if I might just be her new favorite subject.

I can’t help but smile when Twilight shows up in my thoughts, dressed in a teacher's uniform while addressing a classroom that is filled by nopony but myself. She smiles and winks at me before dutifully going over a carefully prepared curriculum and quickly becomes apparent that she’s done her research in true Twilight fashion.

From my favorite food, musical taste, and secret fondness for stuffed animals, to my deepest darkest secret, she lays it bare for all to see with such accuracy it’s spooky.

And then I remember that it’s not really Twilight, but a figment of my imagination.

Maybe I really should get some rest.

“Princess! Princess!”

My eyes flutter open with great difficulty, and I follow it up with a yawn of epic proportions. “Not right now, Twilight,” I murmur in reply. As a response as it is a plea for her to let me sleep a little longer. I was having the loveliest dream...

I shake my head and blink at the pony in front of me. It’s a stallion. Twilight isn’t a stallion. At least, not last time I checked. A spell maybe? No... the stallion is a somewhat older gentlecolt, with a monocle and a truly impressive shock of blue hair that passes for mane styling these days. He does still manage to look distinguished, somehow. I’ll give him that, but he’s still not Twilight. “What..?” I ask him somewhat grumpily.

He coughs awkwardly. “Sorry to disturb you, Princess, but I... we need your help.”

Of course he does. Why is it that even on my day off, ponies still feel the need to wake me from a perfectly peaceful nap? “If you have any concerns, you can take them to my sister for today. I’m enjoying some much needed rest.”

He chuckles even more awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck with a hoof. “Actually, Princess, that’s exactly why I— we need your help.”

Suppressing my annoyance, I lean to the side a little to look over at the entrance where a whole slew of other ponies— diplomats by the looks of them are waiting, visibly worried and softly conversing amongst themselves.

I sigh heavily as I sit up. “Okay. I’m listening, but this had better be important.”

Wracking my sleep-deprived brain for his name, I seem to recall it being Deep Thoughts or something similarly pretentious. I’m fairly certain his parents were insufferable. In fact, I know they were. Luckily he isn’t like them, despite the name. “Quite important, Princess,” he replies.

Duty has come knocking once again, and I can’t help but get up and make my way towards the worried crowd, constructing a mask of composure all the while. It wouldn’t do to have ponies see me grumpy. “Why exactly did you not take this up with my sister, Deep Thoughts?” I ask him at length.

“Well...” he hesitates, looking horribly uncomfortable.

“She didn’t threaten to behead anypony, did she?” I ask, stretching out the muscles in my back and giving my wings a quick shake.

He shakes his head. “No, Princess. I can only wish it were so benign.”

That earns him an arched eyebrow. Beheading is benign? Did social norms change again while I wasn’t looking? I don’t get to ask that very question as we reach the group of diplomats, all of whom seem to sigh in relief. “Okay. One of you had better have coffee on hoof, and if not, fetch somepony who does.” I let out a deep sigh of my own and regard the stallion next to me with a stern frown. “Now.. what seems to be the problem? And how bad is it?”

In the corner of my eyes, several of the diplomats go back to whispering to one another, although it’s not a given that they’re talking about me now. Holding back another sigh, I screw up my mask a little more and reign in my annoyance.

Deep Thoughts, meanwhile, swallows uneasily. “There’s no pleasant way to put this, Princess. As of an hour ago, Equestria is at war.”

“At war?! How did that happen?”

He winces under my forceful tone and meekly continues. “Princess Luna’s... diplomatic, uhm...” He pauses and looks around, as though the words he needs are lying on the floor between us. “...discretion, leaves something to be desired.”

“So she started a war because of an ill placed comment?” Even my millennia of practice doesn’t prevent me from groaning out loud.

“Well...” he says, his ears wilting in dismay. “Technically, she started three of them.”

“And did any of you ponies educated in proper etiquette and diplomacy try to smoothe over the situation?”

Deep Thoughts looks down and when I look at the rest of them they quickly follow his example. “I am sorry, Princess. I have no excuse. I have never seen negotiations go so badly so quickly. I was too baffled to think, I suppose.”

Without another word, I set off towards the throne room, the gaggle of diplomats in tow. It seems like I won’t be having a whole lot of free time after all. The journey takes all of five minutes, and much like the scene when I arrive, is uneventful.

I would have expected to see ponies running about either in hysteria or, for those with a level head on their shoulders, trying to get a handle on the situation. What I find instead is a lot more chilling.

The throne room is packed with guardsmen, all standing at ceremony while Luna and three of my generals sit around a makeshift table that’s been set up in front of the throne. Luna looks up as soon as the soldiers step back to allow me to pass, and, to my horror, smiles brightly.

“‘Tia!” she shouts with no small hint of excitement. “I’m glad you are here. We could use your strategic prowess.”

My paces, which already became long when I set off from the gardens become longer still though the atmosphere in the room keeps me from graduating to a full on canter. “Luna, what in Equestria are you thinking?”

She beams at me and points to the map. “I’m glad you asked. First I was thinking we invest in our navy, since the Minotaurs have a fairly substantial fleet. We’ll need shipyards in Manehattan and Baltimare. I was hoping you could aid in the development of the recruitment posters and of course devise our overall strategy. We’ll need experienced crew to staff the warships to be sure, and the army seems... diminished from when we last saw it.”

“Luna—”

“The Saddle Arabians should not prove too great a threat, but their bits are plentiful, and I expect them to bankroll the war, possibly hire mercenaries to do their dirty work for them. The real threat will be the griffons, who I fear may prove most vicious. They’ve become a poor nation in the time since my banishment, and hungry people are often desperate.” She taps a hoof to her chin, moving a piece on the war map. “We’ll have to redouble our efforts to train new troops, possibly train the trainers ourselves, possibly reinstate conscription if things go sour. How did you manage to go without war for over six centuries anyway?”

My mouth opens, but I have no words with which to reply to her. A big part of me is horrified that she actually seems to be enjoying this, while the strategic bit is more impressed by how much of a solid war plan she’s come up with in less than half an hour. Could she have been thinking about this beforehoof?

“I was thinking that, as a show of force, we should behead the diplomats and send the heads to their leaders. Or.. or... What if we just march down there right now before they have a chance to mobilise their armies?”

Luna’s excitement is infectious despite the dire circumstances. For just a moment, I indulge myself and consider what my strategy would be if a three-front war were to happen. Only for a moment, though. Her suggestions point out something much more crucially important to the situation at hoof. “Behead them? The diplomats are still in Canterlot?”

She nods. “Locked up in the dungeons. They made enemies of the state out of themselves, so I thought it prudent to keep them under tight guard pending a decision as to what we do with them.”

“So they haven’t yet had a chance to report to their respective nations?”

“Of course not! I haven’t forgotten your ‘oh so important lessons about the eighth element’” she says with a giggle. “I remember them well. The element of surprise! What a lark that was.” Her mirth dies down a little and she treats me to what she probably thinks is a reassuring smile. “Rest assured, ‘Tia, they won’t know what hit them.”

With tremendous effort, I suppress the sigh building in my chest and let my eyes wander over the war map. “How exactly did this all come about? What did they say? What did you say?”

She seems surprised at my vehemence, but gamely begins to explain. “I merely complemented the Saddle Arabian Ambassador on her comely hips. Showing my appreciation for her beauty, in a sense.”

I can’t help but wince. “And then what happened?”

She shrugs. “She huffed a little, but she seemed the type that doth protest too much.”

“Luna, were you flirting with her?”

She looks at me with the eyes of a four year old who knows she’s been naughty. “No! I mean... she has a very nice figure! Okay so I may have indulged a little, but that’s hardly a reason for her to start shouting like she did.”

“What did she say?”

“I’m uncertain, my Saddle Arabian was never top notch, but I believe she was insulting me, and our nation.”

With a sigh I rub my left temple. Headache inducing problems are what she was supposed to solve, not cause. “And then what happened?”

Luna remains quiet, but one of the generals that I’d almost forgotten is also standing at the table speaks in her stead. He’s an old and grizzled guard named Immovable. I can never remember if it’s a nickname or not. He seems about as happy about the situation as I am. “The Minos diplomat tried to diffuse things, which seemed to be working out until the Princess told him to ‘get lost’.”

It takes a moment before I realise that I’m staring at him with an open mouth, and snap it shut before redirecting my glare to Luna. “Do... do you have any notion... Luna, he’s a minotaur! They pride themselves on a flawless sense of direction! Telling a Minotaur to ‘get lost’ is akin to insulting a pony's parents and wishing death upon them!”

Luna snorts and shrugs. “He was being loud and obnoxious, Tia.”

I press a hoof to my temple again, trying not to weep in frustration. I’m not even sure I want to know how she insulted the Griffon diplomat. “Right. So... you had them all put into cells?”

“Verily. With naught but bread and water.”

Anyone from the last hundred years of history, and of course those alive today, would look at Luna’s proud smile and think her mad. While I am not enthused by her actions, I do understand the intent that drives her. Back when Castle Everfree was still our seat of power, situations such as these wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows, much less voices. War was an all too common occurrence in past eras.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let her destroy in an afternoon what took me six hundred and thirteen years to build.

“Okay, first of all, if you really wanted to go to war, it would be much better to have troops stationed here, here, and here,” I say pointing at the map. “If you truly intended to launch a three-pronged war with a surprise attack, it would be vital to cut their supply lines. We would most definitely lose if they were allowed to supply their own war-machines.” I take a deep breath and put that ‘strategic prowess’ Luna talked about to use. There has to be a way to salvage all of this without causing any irreparable damage. “That being said, here’s what we’re actually going to do.”

Half a day filled with frustration later, I arrive at the outskirts of Ponyville. Despite her apparent excitement at the prospect of war, Luna did not actually mean to start one, nor three for that matter. It made convincing her to help me smooth things over with the ambassadors a simple task. Actually convincing the ambassadors themselves that everything had been a prank was a lot harder. Ironically, the sheer lengths Luna went to afterwards helped sell the idea to them. It might seem stupid, but if it works...

I’d all but forgotten about my intentions of going to the party Twilight had invited me to, right up to the point where Luna reminded me, and assured me that she could handle the rest. I wasn’t convinced until she promised she wouldn’t start any more wars without consulting me first, and that the castle would still be standing when I returned.

Only now, as I step in between the first houses on my way to Sugarcube Corner, do I realise that in all of the stress and the confusion, I never penned my RSVP to Twilight. A faux pas to be sure, but if anypony understands the hectic situations that surround me at times it would be her.

As it turns out, navigating Ponyville by night is significantly harder than I had anticipated, piling yet more delays on my arrival time. So when I do finally barge through the door of Sugarcube Corner, perhaps it isn’t too big a surprise that the only ponies left are Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy. One with a mop, the other with a feather duster up in the rafters, cleaning up the mess left behind happily and dutifully respectively.

“Princess!” Pinkie all but shouts, earning her a stern shushing from Fluttershy. “Sorry,” she calls back in a stage whisper before leaving the mop for what it is and bounding over to me. “I’m glad you decided to come!” She says, beaming a smile at me. “I’ve never seen you in a dress. It’s very pretty, but... um... The party’s already over, and so’s the after party.” She looks back at the mostly empty room with a sort-of satisfied smile. “Most ponies went home to sleep, but if you want, I could whip up something delicious and we could hold an after-after party!” Her voice climbs in volume as the idea excites her more and more, earning her another stern glare from Fluttershy.

The reasoning for Fluttershy’s strict behaviour becomes apparent only when she flutters down from the ceiling and trots over to a softly snoring purple lump on the couch. The couch itself is only mostly covered in smudges made by different party refreshments, but that doesn’t seem to bother Twilight who is snoozing away contently.

“Wily-Twily had a lot of fun,” Pinkie chirps up next to me. “So much fun that she partied herself to sleep. So we need to be super-duper quiet so we won’t wake her up.”

I let my gaze drift over to Twilight’s sleeping form and suppress a twinge of disappointment. Whatever the party was like, she really does seem to have enjoyed herself, and part of me is sorry to have missed it. Another part of me laments the good time and clarity I could have had. A good conversation could have been just what I needed to sort all of this out. “What is—” I bite my tongue, biting back a question on what Twilight is like during parties. She doesn’t look like the Twilight that came into my room unannounced. Is she like that with me alone? Or does she snog everypony she sees?

Skipping straight past the possible problems, my mind jumps to a scene in which Twilight is doing her adorably bad dance in between all kinds of ponies having fun. She looks so relaxed. So happy.

With a shake of my head I push the vision away, leaving two curious ponies looking at me. I clear my throat and smile. “How was the party?”

“It was just the greatest!” Pinkie shouts, bouncing up and down in place. “We bobbed for apples, played pin the tail on the pony, and even a little foam-bowling! There was dancing, and karaoke singing... apparently Applejack has a great singing voice, even if she doesn’t like to sing! And then there was...”

“It was... nice.” Fluttershy’s voice, though barely audible, cuts Pinkie’s waterfall of events off with a decisive finality.

Pinkie nods in agreement. “It was super-duper nice!” She jumps up and zips over to the kitchen door. “Would you like something to drink, Princess?” She asks, pulling out a veritable mountain of flasks and bottles. “I’ve got sarsaparilla, red grape wine, white crystal wine, yellow wine...” She does a double take at the bottle, makes a face, and somehow manages to pull it out of the pile and toss it away. “You probably shouldn’t drink that one. Then we have grape cider, melon cider, apple cider straight from Applejack’s farm, and just about every lemonade you can think of!”

“A nice glass of lemonade...” I begin before interrupting myself. It’s long since been a self imposed rule of mine not to drink anything alcoholic any time I am responsible for an entire country. And with all of the decision making behind me for today... “Actually, after the day I’ve had, I could really use a good glass of wine.”

“What happened?” Fluttershy asks, settling down besides me while Pinkie, to my surprise, pours the entire bottle into a big glass that is entirely too big. If those are the glasses they’re using for drinking, it’s no wonder Twilight has gotten drunk of late. Perhaps I should simply decline? No, it will be fine. Relax, Celestia. Just take a few sips and leave the rest.

“Carousel politics,” I reply with a half smile, which drops when I see their questioning glances at one another. “An unintended insult from one diplomat to another led to a lot of screaming and more insults. It’s like a never ending cycle.” I make a circling motion with my hoof. “Like a Carousel.”

“Ooo! Rarity would like those kinds of politics!” Pinkie exclaims with a big grin. Fluttershy stifles a giggle behind a hoof, and I have to admit I’m not far off laughing myself.