“That could have gone better.” Twilight Sparkle said as the ballroom (or what was left of it) burned.
“Yeah, but then it wouldn't have been awesome.” Rainbow Dash flicked soot off of her ball gown (or what was left of it). “I mean, it's not that I like having to save ponies, but ... we're kinda really good at it.”
“Because we've had a lot of practice.” Twilight sat down on the rim of a garden fountain, and a variety of aches and pains set in, no longer held at bay by adrenaline and coffee. The Grand Galloping Gala was exhausting in the best of circumstances-- though she began to wonder if anything resembling “best circumstances” could actually be applied to the Gala. The first year she'd attended had been a social disaster, the second year could technically be classified as a natural disaster on account of The Smooze, and this year ... the term 'inevitable' came to mind.
“Practice is how you push your limits.” Rainbow Dash said. “I mean, I didn't even know you could teleport so many ponies at the same time!”
“Neither did I.” Twilight rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “But I do know I never should have let Trixie set up all those fireworks.”
“It's not your fault! How were you supposed to know about Ember's allergies? Or that Rarity just bought new perfume? Or that that Pinkie Pie would bring her Deep-Fry-O-Matic?” Rainbow Dash sat down beside Twilight and draped a supportive wing over her shoulder.
“I ... guess you have a point there.” Twilight leaned against her friend and sighed. She watched the rescue crews work, helped along by the rest of her friends.
Applejack heaved away at the pumps of a fire wagon, while Pinkie Pie joined the crew handling the hose, methodically spraying and dousing the ground around the fire, keeping it from spreading. A couple of pegasus ponies shoved a heavy thunderhead into position above, and squeezed out a localized deluge. Flames sizzled to death under the torrent of water, releasing thick gouts of steam. The wind changed, and a palpable blanket steamy air ruffled Twilight's feathers, like the world's largest, most inefficient sauna.
Beyond the perimeter of fire ponies, a motley collection of slightly singed aristocrats and lower-born (and decidedly unphased) gawkers milled about in a loose, quiet chaos. Fluttershy and Rarity weaved amongst the crowd, dispensing comforting words and refreshing drinks where needed. Twilight had seen enough disasters to know the worst of it was over-- now it was just a matter of containment and eventual cleanup.
“At least nopony got hurt.” Twilight said, vainly reaching for a silver lining.
“Yeah, nopony important got hurt.”
“What?!” Twilight pushed herself back to unsteady hooves, readying herself to launch into action once more.
“Whoa! Chill!” Rainbow Dash blurted. “All I'm saying is that I'm pretty sure that Blueblood dude's eyebrows will grow back.” A pause. “Eventually. How long does it take to grow eyebrows back, anyway?”
“I ... don't actually know.” Twilight fluttered back to the ground. “I'll have to look that up. At least the library's on the other side of the palace, so it's still intact.”
“Yeah, uh, you might wanna wait on your research, Twilight.” Rainbow Dash looked over her friend's shoulder. “'cause we've got company.”
“Company?” Twilight turned around, following her friend's gaze-- and then, sure enough, there was Princess Celestia. The Princess of the Sun was immaculate, as always-- somehow her coat and gown had made it through the flames entirely unscathed. A golden pin in the shape of Celestia's cutie mark held her dress in place, the light glinting off of it making it look like a sun in miniature.
Just as Twilight expected, Princess Celestia smiled.
“Rainbow?” Twilight stood up taller and set her jaw. “I'd like to speak with Princess Celestia. In private.”
Rainbow Dash blinked. “You're sure?”
“Very.”
“Uh ... if you say so.” Rainbow Dash flapped her wings, taking to the air. “I'll be up with the cloud crews if you need me.”
“Thank you, Rainbow.” Twilight said, and the pegasus zipped off.
Twilight let forced the smile slip from her face as she looked up at Princess Celestia. “I know what you're going to say.”
“You do?” Princess Celestia blinked, but then her infuriatingly sly smile just grew a little wider. “You haven't invented a Mind-Reading spell now, have you?”
“I don't need a Mind-Reading Spell.” Twilight groaned. “It's the same every year. My friends and I all come all the way from Ponyville, and Rarity makes us all new dresses, and then what's supposed to be the best night ever turns into ... into this!”
Princess Celestia opened her mouth to reply, but Twilight, too exhausted for anything resembling politeness, went on with all the building momentum of a runaway train, careening downhill.
Twilight jabbed a hoof at the smoldering wreckage that had so recently been the social event of the season. “And now's the part where you come over and tell me everything's okay and that this is the most fun you've ever had at a party! And then we all go get donuts and pretend that makes up for everything else! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to ruin the Grand Galloping Gala every year!”
And then it hit her.
“Oh. Oh no. You really do want to ruin the Grand Galloping Gala every year.”
As the admission left Twilight's lips, so did her righteous indignation. Her wings drooped, her shoulders sagged, and her eyes began to water-- and not from the smoke.
“Are you done?” Princess Celestia said. She wasn't smiling anymore.
“I ... I guess so.” Twilight sniffed, and wiped the corner of her eye. “But ... but why?”
“Walk with me, Twilight. Please.”
Princess Celestia turned, and Twilight followed, once again reduced to a bewildered filly in awe of her obviously omnipotent mentor. The two walked in silence, winding up a spiral staircase to one of the palace's battlements, high above the courtyard and the ballroom below.
By the time they made it to the wall, Twilight had regained her dignity (or what was left of it). Steeling herself, she glared up at Princess Celestia. “Let me guess-- this is when you say you really wanted to redecorate the Royal Ballroom anyway?”
“Not exactly.” Celestia said. She put her front hooves on the edge of the wall, between two of the crenelations, and nodded to the courtyard below. “Tell me what you see, Twilight.”
“Hundreds of thousands of bits worth of property damage?”
“The treasury can afford it. Look closer.”
Twilight furrowed her brow, and then moved up beside Celestia, looking downward. “I see ... uh. Fire. Or what's left of it.”
“And?”
“And ... ponies? Scared, tired ponies.”
“Doing what?”
“Well, some of them are putting out the fire, and the rest are just sort of standing around. What am I supposed to look for?”
“Have you ever read about the first Grand Galloping Gala?”
“There's not much to read.” Twilight affixed Celestia with a suspicious glare. “... you're not going to tell me these kind of disasters are tradition now, are you?”
“Not exactly, no. But at the first Gala ... or really, any other gathering back then, ponies would wear armor instead of evening wear. So many ponies in one place-- it could be a tempting target. Dragons were the big fear, at the time-- the largest of them could eat dozens of ponies if given the chance. Equestria is safer now, but ... “
“But?”
“We can't get complacent, Twilight. Since moving to Ponyville, how many times have you and your friends had to save all of Equestria?”
Twilight frowned. “You already know the answer to that.”
“I do, yes. But there are a lot of ponies out there that don't. There are some ponies who spend their entire lives within Canterlot's walls, thinking ... well, not thinking, to be honest. Not thinking about the likes of Discord, or Sombra, or Tirek.”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.”
Celestia smiled a rueful smile, then brushed her flowing mane back over her ear. “Did you know, Twilight, that during the Storm King's invasion, fully half of Canterlot's population was able to get out of the city before his troops could secure it? And most of those who were captured were Royal Guards or Fireponies who stayed behind to secure the evacuation? You can't practice that sort of thing, Twilight-- at least, not easily. Am I making sense now?”
“Wait.” Twilight shook her head. “You mean you're saying ... this--” Twilight looked back down at the ponies down below. “This is a drill?”
“Not a drill. More like a ... trial run. One that went exceedingly well, I might add. You and your friends thought quickly, and got everypony out of the ballroom before anypony got hurt.” Celestia thought for a moment. “Well, almost everypony. But I'm sure Prince Blueblood's eyebrows will grow back before long. And then, after that, the Canterlot Fire Department was on the scene in record time-- I'm beginning to think Red Alert's onto me--
“Who?” Twilight blinked.
“The fire chief. He's paranoid, but I can't fault his performance. Or yours, for that matter. And even the guests learned something-- whether they know it or not. Next time some unspeakable evil tries to conquer Canterlot, they'll remember where to run, how to hide, and that will hopefully be enough to keep them alive long enough for you and your friends to save the day.”
“That ... makes way too much sense.” Twilight flopped down onto the battlements again, and groaned. “Is that part of being a Princess? Having plans within plans, contingency on contingency?”
“A little bit. Though sometimes it's even more important to pretend you know what you're doing.” Celestia winked.
Twilight gaped. “I-- you-- this ... this is ridiculous!” She let out a giddy, exhausted laugh, and before long the tears of frustration welling up at the corners of her eyes flowed, though now in relieved, more-than-half-mad laughter. Twilight's shrill, enthusiastic giggling echoed loud enough to earn puzzled looks from the rescue crews below.
Twilight pushed away from the battlement wall, only to lean against Princess Celestia for support. “And-- and-- you know what the worst part is?” Twilight hiccuped a breath.
“What is it?”
“When you put it like that, it makes sense!” Twilight broke into another stream of laughter, and shook her head. She clutched at her sides for a few more hysterical seconds, finally getting the last of it out of her system. Twilight panted, finally getting her hooves back underneath herself. “At least I'll know something's coming, next year.” Twilight nodded, resolute.
“Next year?” Princess Celestia arched a brow. “I honestly wouldn't blame you for not going to the next Grand Galloping Gala, now that you know what you know.”
“I could skip it, but then how would everypony get their disaster response training? But now, if you'll excuse me--” Twilight bowed as best she could in her bedraggled state. “I'm going to go get some donuts.”
