“You’re moping,” Sandbar sighed.
“I’m not moping, I’m doing homework. Alone. In a library. Because I feel like it.” Gallus never took his eyes off the book he was reading. Some collection of pony adventure short stories that Professor Dash assigned.
“You feel like doing homework?” Sandbar scoffed. “That makes no sense. You never like studying.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve just become a more enlightened Griffon. I’ve seen the light of burying my beak in the pages of a good read.”
“Sure,” Sandbar sounded unconvinced, but Gallus never looked up from the book. He stared at the words on the page. The same words he’d stared at for the last half hour.
“It’s just, you haven’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.”
“You’ve been watching me for ten minutes?” Gallus snorted. “You have nothing better to do? I thought you had a girlfriend.”
“Yona’s busy helping Smoulder with a project right now,” Sandbar said casually. Gallus finally looked up. There was something suspicious in the pony’s voice. Something deceptive. He narrowed his eyes, opening his beak to demand an explanation. That was when the black bag slipped over his head.
“Wha…?” he managed, trying to jerk to his paws. His wings flapped in startled panic and he thrashed about with his claws.
“Griffon should hold still!” Yona’s voice came from outside the black bag, as her powerful hooves wrapped around him to still his forearms. “Griffon doesn’t want to hurt himself.”
“Yona, what are you doing?” Gallus calmed down a little, but he still tried to reach up and remove the bag. She squeezed just a little tighter, enough to keep his claws from wiggling free.
“Yona not Yona! Yona is, um…” there was a rattling of paper. “...Evil Minion Number One!”
“What.”
“Sorry about this, Gallus,” Sandbar whispered, close to his ear. “Just play along, okay? After all, you did promise.”
“What did I promise?” Gallus growled.
“Remember when Smoulder told you each study group was in charge of putting on their own Hearth’s Warming pageant? And you were being grumpy about it?” Sandbar offered.
“Duh. I agreed to stop complaining about the stupid thing and just show up, as long as I didn’t have to do anything.”
“That’s what this is,” Sandbar explained. “You don’t have to do anything at all. Smoulder has your role prepared. And don’t worry, you won’t have to say a single line unless you want to.”
“Okay. So what part of this means I have to get griffon-napped?” Gallus sighed. Yona had wrapped something around his torso, some sort of rope.
“Um, you’ll have to forgive me, but it’s all part of the pageant scenario Smoulder thought up. Sorry. I wouldn’t have played along, except…”
“Evil Minion Number One told Evil Minion Number Two that Evil Minion Number Two would be cut off from all Yak cuddles and Yak smooches unless he helped distract griffon, at least until the bag was on,” Yona supplied helpfully.
“Oh, great,” Gallus groaned as he felt himself get lifted up on top of Yona’s back. He still wriggled a bit, but it was a token protest now. Whatever his friends were up to, he didn’t really want to fight too hard. “I’ve been betrayed. Whatever happened to us being bros?”
“We are bros, Gallus,” Sandbar said. “But Yak smooches are best smooches.”
“That’s right!” Yona cheered, and Gallus heard the wet sound of one of those very smooches. He resisted the urge to gag dramatically.
Just because he’d been heartbroken didn’t mean he had to rain on their happiness, after all.
“Don’t worry too much about it. It might even be fun,” Sandbar offered. “Besides, you should just be glad I talked them out of the costume.”
“Costume?” Gallus asked fearfully, but the only response was a giggle from Yona.
The three of them trailed through the hallways of the School of Friendship. Gallus assumed they were headed towards the last place he wanted to be; the auditorium. Specifically the stage. It wasn’t that he had stage fright or anything, it was simply that the idea of dozens of ponies and other creatures, watching him perform some sort of saccharine, moralistic holiday pageant was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.
“If I confess that I really was moping, would you let me go?” he offered, a last ditch desperation move to escape his inevitable fate.
“Nope. Not a chance,” Yona sang. “Pageant will be good for griffon. Maybe not as good as Sneldarfest pageant, but still pretty good. Filled with traditions from everycreature’s culture, even griffon’s.”
“You had to stop hiding someday,” Sandbar said. “Oh good. Here we are. We’re headed backstage, so you should probably be quiet now. Don’t worry, Gallus. We’ll get you trussed up and in position.”
“What did you…”
A hoof covered his mouth.
“Shh! Gallus should be quiet now!” Yona hissed in the least quiet whisper Gallus had ever heard. He sighed and did as he was told, and suddenly could hear the whispered hum of a crowd in the near distance. He was probably on the auditorium stage.
“You got him?” Smoulder whispered, from close enough that Gallus jumped a little. At least she knew how to sneak. “Great. Here’s the pole to tie him up to. Not too tight or anything; he needs to be able to get out if there’s an emergency or something.”
“Oh boy. What a dedication to realism,” Gallus grumbled, and he felt Smoulder punch him lightly in the shoulder.
“Well, sure, it may not be realistic, but you know how things get around the professors. At any second some monster could show up and start wrecking up the school. Then you’d be all tied up and helpless. So we’ll make it loose. But don’t be a jerk and ruin this for us, okay? You promised.”
“What am I supposed to do again?” Gallus said with a resigned sigh.
“Well, you don’t have to do anything,” Smoulder explained. Gallus felt himself get lifted off Yona’s back and placed carefully in a sitting position next to a pole of some sort. A few rounds of rope went loosely around his chest. “Stick your claws behind you so it looks more realistic. No, we’re not going to actually tie them, so you’ll just have to hold them there.”
“And what role am I going to be playing?”
“The ponynapped princess,” Smoulder laughed. Gallus could swear he could hear the amusement in her voice. “We’re reenacting one of Professor Dash’s favorite Hearth’s Warming stories. ‘Sir Brighthelm Versus the Dragon.’ We may have made some adjustments in the story.”
“I tried to tell them it wasn’t a real Hearth’s Warming story, just one that Professor Dash liked,” Sandbar whispered. “But just go with it, okay?”
“And I am a princess?” Gallus was liking this less and less by the second.
“Yup,” Smoulder’s smirk was audible in her voice. “Ponynapped by the vicious dragon, Throcktor the Tyrant. Guess who I’m playing?”
“I don’t know, the knight, maybe?” Gallus sneered. “Seriously, Smoulder. I’m not playing a princess.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Smoulder said smugly. “You promised. Besides, you don’t have to say or do anything. Just sit there and be rescued when the time comes. Unless you want to scream and struggle.
“Sure. I’ll get right on that.” Gallus slumped back against the pole. “Could you at least take this bag off my head? I’d like to actually see what’s going on.”
“You’re going to love this,” Smoulder cackled. “Okay, let’s get into character, everycreature. Evil minions, are you ready?”
“Evil Minion Number One is ready!” Yona said eagerly.
“Um, me too!” Sandbar said, sounding just as excited.
Gallus listened for their other two friends. A very small part of him was relieved that he didn’t hear them, either.
“Very well then, minions! You may remove the victim’s blindfold.” Smoulder seemed the most into character of the three of them, her voice low and dripping with mocking. He had to be at least a little impressed that she was getting into this as much as she was.
The bag was suddenly pulled off his eyes, and Gallus blinked at the sudden light. He glanced around him. He was, indeed, on the auditorium stage, but it had undergone a profound transformation. There was a tall painted backdrop of a volcanic cave, with vivid and colorful depictions of lava flows and erupting steam geysers. But it was the set onstage that was the most impressive.
There were dozens of pieces of strange apparatus that looked like they might have come from a Wonderbolts training obstacle course, or something out of a martial arts training montage in one of Spike’s comic books. Gallus didn’t even know what half of the things were. There were moving hoops, net traps, and what looked like wooden dummies shaped like dragons. There was also a twisted rope jungle, and even what looked like some kind of puzzle cylinder on a pedestal like out of a Daring Do book.
“How did you guys get all this to fit on the stage?” Gallus asked in wonder.
“Shh. No talking unless you’re whimpering like the damsel in distress you are,” Smoulder hissed, and he glanced over at her.
She was in costume, that was clear. Smoulder had decked herself out in gaudy, gem-studded silver armor, with wicked pointed tips and barbs all over. She’d even made herself a pointed crown, thick and strong looking. In one claw she clutched a large, intimidating looking double axe. Tacked onto her muzzle was a thick black moustache, which she twirled with one claw.
“What do you think?” she smirked at him.
“Lose the moustache.” Gallus’ eyes narrowed, and Smoulder laughed.
“Nope. Spike thought it was funny.” Gallus wondered if he was the only one who noticed that she blushed when she said his name. It stung, a little, and he felt guilty about his little twitch of jealousy. Did every creature get to find a mate except him? Maybe he was doomed to lonely bachelorhood forever.
“Yona...er… Evil Minion Number One thinks the moustache looks good on Throcktor the Tyrant,” Yona chimed in, and Gallus looked at the pair. They were both dressed in sinister looking black robes, and both had their own prop weapons, a pair of swords. They stood on either side of Gallus. Both of them looked excited.
“Guys?” Spike’s voice came from a few feet away. Gallus glanced to see the dragon with both claws on a rope pull, presumably the draw for the curtain. “You all ready? The knights are in position.”
“Sure,” Smoulder smirked down at Gallus. “Whenever you’re ready, Spike.”
Spike pulled down a microphone that was set up right next to them.
“Next up, we have a… um, creative interpretation of traditional Hearth’s Warming pageants, a reenactment of the story, Sir Brighthelm Versus the Dragon, performed by Smoulder and her friends.”
There was a smattering of applause from outside the curtain, and Spike pulled at the rope, revealing the darkened auditorium beyond. Gallus heard the hushed whispers of excited and confused conversation beyond, even though he couldn’t make out a specific face.
“Long ago,” came a raspy voice from above the stage, and Gallus glanced up. Above them all hovered Professor Dash, speaking into a microphone of her own. “There was a vicious dragon terrorizing the countryside. He took whatever he wished, be it crops, gems, bits, or even ponies!” She gasped dramatically, while Smoulder stepped to the front of the stage, leaning on her axe and grinning a cruel, toothy grin. “He was called Throcktor the Tyrant, and even his victims had given up all hope. Some of them, in hopes for a better life, allowed themselves to be enslaved by his will.”
Yona and Sandbar stepped up beside Smoulder, brandishing their own weapons.
“Um, is this really a Hearth’s Warming story?” Gallus could hear Professor Pinkie’s not-very-quiet whisper from the audience, though several immediately hushed her.
“Q-quiet, Pinkie!” Professor Dash stammered into her microphone, then cleared her throat. “Um. Soon, the Tyrant’s greed became so great that he even kidnapped the most beautiful princess in all the land!” Professor Dash gestured dramatically towards Gallus with one wing, turning just enough so he could see her amused smirk. Gallus felt his face heating up. It had to be those stupid spotlights. Not the chuckles he heard from the crowd.
“There was only one pony that could save her. The brave unicorn knight, Sir Brighthelm!”
Two more figures burst from backstage into the stage lights. The first one with a graceful leap, the second, a bit more timidly, following right behind her.
It was the last two creatures Gallus wanted to see. The same two he’d been avoiding for two weeks. Ever since…
“It is I, Sir Brighthelm!” Silverstream cried out, posing dramatically with one claw in the air! She was dressed in grey costume armor, complete with a sheathed sword.
“A-and it is also I, S-sir Brighthelm!” Ocellus stammered behind Silverstream. She was dressed in an identical costume, though it was sized down to fit her smaller form. Her nervousness was evident by the way she shuffled about and kept shooting glances at the crowd, but there was a smile on her face nonetheless.
“Wait, there’s two of ‘em?” Gallus heard Professor Applejack ask from the crowd. “That makes…”
“A-hem!” Professor Dash said loudly. “The Sir Brighthelms traveled far and wide to reach the dreaded dungeon of the mad Tyrant Dragon, to free the poor princess from Throcktor’s cruel claws. For you see, the brave knight was desperately in love.”
It was like a knife to Gallus’ gut. A sharp, stabbing pain, thrust deep and then twisted. He glared at Sandbar. He knew. Maybe the others hadn’t noticed, but Sandbar had no excuse. Only the stupid pony had his back to Gallus, so Sandbar couldn’t see the twist of rage and hurt that now marred his features.
“We have reached the dragon’s cave, Sir Brighthelm!” Silverstream cried out, grinning widely and completely oblivious two the griffon’s quiet suffering. “Let us brave the dangers inside and save our fair, um, princess.” She giggled, unable to keep a straight face.
“Y-yes, we have, S-sir Brighthelm!” Ocellus agreed. “These obstacles look very, um, challenging.”
“You’ll never escape alive, foolish knights!” Smoulder cackled, waving her prop axe about menacingly. “My traps will take you. And if they don’t, my minions will! And even if you defeat them, you will fall to my axe!”
“W-we’ll see about that!” Ocellus stammered. Silverstream was trying to say something, but she was too busy giggling.
Through all this silliness, Gallus simmered. His ropes were loose enough that if he truly wished, he could simply slither out and fly off. He wanted to. This was absurd. Ridiculous. The stupidest thing he’d ever had to endure. Why now? Why him? He’d already made the biggest mistake of his life, and now they had to compound it like this? In front of a crowd?
“Bear with all this, please?” came a whisper, and Gallus looked up to see Sandbar looking at him, his eyes wide with concern. “I know it’s a little silly, but everything will turn out okay in the end. I promise.”
“How could you?” he hissed back, his eyes wet. “You know. You know how I felt. You know I waited too long to choose. To decide. And then they…”
“Please. Just wait. This is for you.”
It was for him? What sort of delusioned brain would think up something like this? What sort of moron would think, that after all that had happened to him in the last month, he would enjoy having his biggest mistake paraded in front of him like this?
He closed his eyes, squeezing out the bit of moisture that had gathered there. But the darkness was no relief. The eye of his memory was full of his own failure.
He’d admired them both for years. Admired Silverstream’s grace and beauty, her charm and humor. Admired Ocellus’ wit and cheer, her kindness and her tenacity. He’d masked every infatuated thought and glance behind a sarcastic comment and a bored sneer, but behind it all he’d been changing. And when he realized that he cared for them both, wanted them both, he’d been paralized.
How did you choose between two pieces of perfection?
A month ago it had all come burning down around him. The words seared forever in his mind.
“Hey guys? Um, we wanted to tell you something.” Ocellus’s voice, sweet and hesitant as always. “Um, Silverstream and I, we’re…”
“We’re…”
“We’re…”
He fled the memory, opening his eyes to the cacophony onstage. Ocellus and Silverstream were pitting themselves against the obstacles. Silverstream was darting through the rope jungle, twisting her body and wings with hypnotic grace. It was hard not to look at the way her body flowed around the barriers, without touching a single fiber of the rope with a feather.
“Well done, Sir Brighthelm!” Ocellus cried out. Gallus could see that she was flushed a bit as well, her eyes bright as she watched her girlfriend challenging the course.
“You too, Sir Brighthelm!” Silverstream cheered, pursing her beak to blow Ocellus a kiss. Gallus looked. Ocellus had just popped open the puzzle cylinder, right in time to dodge a hidden rope trap that descended on her from above.
“Wow, this took quite a lot of engineering and planning,” Gallus heard Headmare Twilight say from the audience, sounding very impressed.
“With every obstacle they defeated, the knights grew closer and closer to their quarry,” Professor Dash narrated from above. “But little did they know they had an ambush on their hooves!”
Suddenly Yona and Sandbar dashed towards the knights, with all four creatures drawing their prop swords. It was clear they’d practiced; even Gallus was a little impressed by the choreography.
“Um, I hope nopony gets hurt.” Gallus was barely able to make out Professor Fluttershy’s voice over the plastic clashes of the prop weapons.
“We won’t let you stop us, foul minions!” Silverstream called out enthusiastically. “Ha!” She made a daring thrust with her weapon, and Sandbar ‘allowed’ it to pass between his barrel and his hoof.
“Oh no, I have been dispatched!” he held a hoof to his forehead dramatically, and flopped to the stage.
“No!” Yona yelled, just as Ocellus bapped her gently on the head with her own prop sword. “Evil Minion Number One is also defeated!” She wobbled about on the stage, twisting and spinning until she finally flopped, falling right on top of the table that had held the puzzle cylinder. The wood smashed and splintered everywhere.
“Well done, Sir Brighthelm!” Ocellus and Silverstream leaned towards each other, and with a pink dusting on each of their cheeks gently kissed, beak to lips. Gallus clenched his eyes shut.
His friends were all happy. They all had somepony. They were having fun. They were growing up, moving on. One day, they’d all graduate. He was sure they would still be together, each with their special someone. Sandbar and Yona were already talking about building a house together in the Crystal Empire, halfway between each of their homes. Ocellus could live both undersea and on land, meaning Silverstream wouldn’t have to choose one or the other to be with her love. Even Smoulder had recently asked (or maybe demanded) a date from Spike.
And when they graduated? Gallus would be alone.
“Enough with this sappy display!” Smoulder called out angrily. “Your silly love won’t rescue the fair princess! And it won’t save you from my blade! Have at you!”
Gallus couldn’t even bring himself to watch the final fight, though he could hear it. Smoulder was cackling with glee as she swung about with her prop axe, striking it against stage and weapon and obstacle alike.
“We are hard pressed, Sir Brighthelm! What should we do?”
“W-we must trust ourselves, and the power of l-love!”
“Wait, that wasn’t in the story.” Professor Dash narrated. “Brighthelm beat the dragon with…”
“Rainbow, darling? I must insist you let this play out.” Professor Rarity sounded like she’d been crying. “This is far too sweet for you to be worried about details.”
“Yeah, but mmmffff.” Gallus did glance up then, just in time to see a glow of blue magic wrapped around Professor Dash’s muzzle.
“That’s right, the power of love!” Silverstream agreed, fending off swipe after swipe of the axe. “It’s the only thing that can defeat the Tyrant!”
Suddenly, both Ocellus and Silverstream dropped their prop swords. Ocellus’ body flashed with green fire, and though most of her looked the same, her insectoid wings were suddenly replaced by griffon-like wings.
“What trickery is this?” Smoulder demanded. “Enough of your foolishness! Surrender and bow to me, and your end will be quick!”
The two knights each reached back with their muzzle and beak respectively, and plucked out a single feather. They held it up before the dragon.
“We cast you out, with the power of love,” Silverstream intoned.
“Your evil cannot quench the fires in our hearts,” Ocellus said, far more boldly than any of her other lines.
“NOOOOOOO!” Smoulder wailed, dropping her axe and clutching her ears. “LOVE! THE MOST DEADLY THING IN THE WORLD TO CRUEL DRAGON TYRANTS! AAaaarrrrgggg….” she slumped to the floor, reaching up towards the stage lights with one trembling claw before finally collapsing into stillness.
“What?” Professor Dash cried out. “How did…” She cleared her throat. “Um, Sir Brighthelm defeated Throcktor the Tyrant with the power of love. I guess. Huh, maybe it really is a Hearth’s Warming story. And all the ponies were saved, and lived happily ever after.”
Gallus wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. It was all so absurd, so ridiculous. But at the same time, it was like rubbing sand into an open wound. He loved them both, but they’d picked each other. He’d waited too long, and now he had nothing. And they were mocking him, in front of their professors and all their fellow students, and they didn’t even know it.
“Thus, the brave knight saved the princess, and they got married or whatever,” Professor Dash narrated, but Gallus could barely hear her any more. Silverstream and Ocellus were walking towards him, still holding a feather each. Both of their expressions were inscrutable; for a moment he couldn’t read them. When they reached the pole where he was tied, they paused.
“Spike?” Smoulder whispered from where she slumped on the floor. “Now.” Gallus looked over and watched as Spike quickly closed the curtain, to the gasps of the audience. Somehow, both minions and the evil dragon tyrant had fallen just outside the curtain line, leaving the three of them in almost complete solitude. Spike himself nodded to them, before himself stepping to the other side of the curtain.
“Gallus,” Silverstream said, nervously. “We’ve been reading up on some griffon customs. We didn’t know how to do this, but we really wanted to get this right.” She reached back and pulled off the ropes, leaving Gallus completely free.
“The last few weeks have been almost perfect, ever since we got together,” Ocellus said. “Almost. It didn’t take us long to realize that something was missing. You see, I’ve always loved and admired Silverstream. But it wasn't enough, because, well, you see…” she blushed and rubbed one hoof against another shyly. “...um, because I felt the same for you.”
“Me too!” Silverstream cheered. “You’re the bravest, funniest griffon ever! I’ll never forget how you helped me in the cave, when I was sure the Storm King was back! You were smart, fearless, and pretty hot.” She giggled as she reddened.
“What are you…” Gallus was confused and angry. “Look, girls, if this is some sort of…”
“So we wrote to Gilda, and Gabby. Asking about griffons, and their dating habits,” Silverstream continued.
“I had Princess Twilight find me a few books,” Ocellus chimed in cheerfully. “The best thing we could find was the Trial of Might.”
“The Trial of Might? That’s an ancient custom. I don’t think anygriff has even bothered with that in…”
“Since the reign of King Germaine the Enlightened,” Ocellus supplied. “Yeah, that’s what I read. But…”
“I thought it would be fun,” Silverstream admitted. “And we wanted to do something big, and dramatic, and wonderful, and I know you’ve been hurting the last few weeks after Ocellus and I started dating and we couldn’t exactly figure out why until Sandbar mentioned…” her beak snapped shut.
“So this is some sort of pity thing?” Gallus said bitterly. Both girls’ eyes shot wide.
“No!” Ocellus’ eyes pled with him. “Gallus… I said the last few weeks have been almost perfect. But we’ve been missing one of the most important parts.”
“Headmare Twilight said a triangle needs three sides,” Silverstream mused. “So we decided to stage a little Trial of Might of our own.”
“It was staged, but the obstacles were real!” Ocellus said earnestly. “We hope that counts.”
“Gabby said the old Trial of Might was so a griffon could show how dedicated and strong they are,” Silverstream explained. “The griffon performs some feat of heroism, and daring, then offers a single feather to her mate. If he or she takes it, then…”
They trailed off, and each of them extended a feather to Gallus. He gaped at them. A billion thoughts flowed through his head, pouring through him like a firehose. He couldn’t latch on to one. Hope and fear, bitterness and joy.
But most of all, love. He reached out and took the feathers.
The crowd was growing a bit restless, confused at both the abrupt falling of the curtain, and the oddly unfinished ending. They were beginning to murmur, when suddenly all the stage lights went out, only to be replaced by a single spot, right at the crack where the two curtains met in the middle. A trio of figures emerged from behind the curtain; Gallus, Silverstream, and Ocellus. In each of Gallus’ claws was a single feather.
“Thank you for coming to our show,” Silverstream spoke, barely able to hold back a grin. “And thank you for waiting. Some of you may have noticed our show was a little improvised tonight.”
“To be h-honest,” Ocellus said. “We didn’t know exactly how it would end. But now we do. So without further delay, we give you, the conclusion.”
With both hooves, Ocellus pulled Gallus’ head down, sealing her lips to his beak in a tight kiss that left them both blushing. Then she released him, pushing him gently towards Silverstream, so she could kiss him, as well. When they were done, an embarrassed, blushing, but very happy griffon turned to the crowd.
“The end,” he smirked, right as a wave of cheers and applause washed over them all.
