Secret Agent, Codename "Smarty Pants"

by heponas

Rating: teen
Tags: Griffons, Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Drama, Comedy
Length: 14142

A young Twilight Sparkle reads too many cheesy super spy novels and threatens to start a war with the griffons.

Princess Celestia invites the monarch of Griffonstone over for a nice cup of tea. Unfortunately, a young Twilight's gone a little crazy after staying up for days straight reading through the entire Con Mane series. What follows just might be remembered as the worst international incident of the century.

Art commed from Lulubell.

Published 2021-11-15 21:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-11-15 21:20:01 UTC

1. The Sun Rises

The halls of the royal castle were dark and deathly silent.

Every once in a while, the silence would be broken by the stomping of hooves and clattering of armor as a stallion made his nightly rounds, accompanied by intermittent yawns. It was always spooky this time of night, when every shadow seemed to stretch and morph like some terrible creature stalking him through the dark. But he’d learned to ignore that. He’d even learned to ignore that occasional feeling of being watched.

Then — a sound.

His ears perked up as he glanced around in every direction. He could’ve sworn he heard the familiar skidding of hooves against the smooth tiled floor, but this portion of the castle was supposed to be empty at this hour. He had only his lantern light to guide him, with sheer darkness just a few meters beyond, the kind of blackness that looked perfect for some horrible spirit to come leaping out of. Naturally, he decided it’d be wisest not to investigate the mysterious sound, instead opting to keep walking in the other direction and pretend he never heard it. He could deal with intruders, but ghosts were above his pay grade!

Once he was out of earshot, a small creature trotted out from a hallway behind him… well, it’d be more accurate to say it’d been thrown. But it was no ghost; rather, it was a measly little hand stitched doll, resembling some sort of tiny grey horse with button eyes and polka dot pants. It laid limply for a moment, before a vibrant lavender glow encompassed it, and a telekinetic force lifted it to its feet. Emerging from the hallway behind it came a purple-furred little filly, her horn glowing and a huge smile on her face.

She puppeteered the puppet’s every movement, making it sneak through the darkened hall like some sort of super spy, tip-toeing across the tiled floor and checking for guards around every corner. Both doll and filly were able to sneak past every sleepy guard they came across with relative ease, strategically rolling past one and crawling along the ceiling to evade another. As the plush toy ‘walked’, the filly quietly provided his daring exploits with a fitting soundtrack. “Dun dun dundundun dun dun dundundun, dananaaaa, dananaaa…”

Their objective was soon in sight: the entrance to the sleeping area of Princess Celestia herself! But just before it, another guard lazily shuffled about. The filly made her toy quietly slide up behind him… before leaping upwards, smacking its tiny little plush hoof against the back of the guard’s head! “Karate chop!” She called out. The guard barely even felt the attack, but he’d experienced this enough that he knew the drill. Playing along, he slumped over with a little bleh, as if he'd been knocked out. She hurried past his ‘sleeping’ body in triumph, giggling all the while.

Celestia’s immense form laid sprawled out across her massive bed, clinging to what little sleep she could get, the only reprieve from her constant busywork. She didn’t have much time before she was awoken — not by a filly’s antics, but rather, by the familiar sound of a violin playing a solemn, slow little tune. “Just five more minutes, I beg of you.”

She waved her hoof, trying to silence the noise as if trying to hit snooze on an alarm clock, but the spectacled mare in the corner of her room kept on playing. “Ma’am, with all due respect, you remember what happened last time you slept in,” the mare said in a dry monotone. “The birds’ migratory periods were thrown all out of order. Geese were flying in through ponies’ windows in the middle of winter. And don’t even get me started on the farmers’ unions…”

Celestia groaned, kicking off her covers. “Okay, okay. Point taken.” Why had she instructed her royal secretary to wake her with that song every morning? It used to be her favorite song in the world, and now, after years of pavlovian conditioning, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. She’d never quite gotten used to the combined exhaustion of having to raise both the sun and moon.

The rising of the sun went just like it had gone for the past centuries. She stepped out onto her balcony, above a crowd of ponies ooing and aaing over their princess’ impressive stature, mostly tourists who came from all over Equestria just to catch a glimpse of her royal highness. For them, seeing her horn glow and coax the beautiful morning sun into delighting the sky with its hues of orange and yellow was the most impressive feat of magic they’d ever witnessed; for her, it was just another Friday.

Her regularly scheduled early morning Pretty Princess Bathtime was much more pleasant. Her chambers may have been humble, but she spared no expense on her bathroom, and dozens of magitechnical engineers pooled their collective expertise into designing the perfect bathtub with every bell and whistle you could imagine, and even a few you can’t. She sighed in relief as her body slunk beneath those warm, bubbly waters, enchanted to auto-adjust to the ideal possible temperature. “My schedule, please.”

“Of course, ma’am. Your speaking engagement at a Cots 4 Colts charity event has been postponed until next Wednesday, but you still have a tea time with King Galahad of the griffons scheduled at three. You will be discussing the terms of our nations’ continued cooperation after their regime change last week.”

“Another king? I could’ve sworn I had tea with the last one, oh, a few weeks ago,” she complained. “What was his name again, anyway? King Dobedo or something?” ‘Kings’ was a word she used very loosely. She was fairly sure none of them had any proper claim to the throne, mere bickering warlords convinced might alone will earn them the crown. It was a shame to see Griffonstone flounder without any true governance, as all potential rulers were too busy stabbing eachother in the back to provide any real leadership. Not that she’d ever say that aloud. Questioning their authority was certain to lead to yet another geopolitical headache, which was the last thing she needed right now.

“King Dolimar, miss. Unfortunately, his reign was short-lived. As it transpired, his wife was actually colluding with his spymaster to collect enough blackmail to force him to abdicate his throne to his brother-in-law, but then it was revealed that said brother-in-law was actually part of a different plot alongside his court chancellor to assemble an army and-”

“Please, spare me the court politics. I must confess, I haven’t been able to keep track of their shenanigans since the times of King Guto,” she groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She likely wouldn’t even bother to remember this one’s name. Chances were, by next week, he’d be replaced by some other warlord with more confidence than brains. “One of the curses of age, I suppose. You remember the days when things seemed so much simpler.” One of the many curses, she thought to herself. After all, she could’ve sworn her back didn’t used to crack and ache like this when she stood, and she once didn’t have to diet so carefully just to maintain her slim figure.

The rest of her morning routine was less fun, particularly the industrial-grade blow dryer she needed to tame that massive, flowing mane of hers. As she readied her deluxe mouthwash, she realized Twilight had completely slipped her mind. An all-too-common occurrence nowadays, she’s afraid. She barely taught the poor foal all week, she'd been so wrapped up in her royal duties. “Now, be a dear and wake up Twilight, would you? I need to-” She was interrupted as the most horrid, bitter taste assailed her the moment the mouthwash touched her tongue! She immediately began retching it all back into the sink, washing off her tongue beneath the faucet. What was this — the brine from a pickle jar? Celestia hated pickles. Why would anyone ever-

Suddenly, there came a familiar laugh from one of her bathroom drawers. “Hehehaha!” Sure enough, that mischievous filly popped right out, a triumphant grin on her face and her favorite toy tied to her back like a backpack! “The evil plans of Dr. Sunny Hooves, once again foiled by… Agent Smarty Paaants!” With that, she scampered away, giggling to herself all the while.

A silence hung over the room, until Celestia’s secretary spoke. “You know, buying Twilight all of those Con Mane novels may have been… ill-advised,” she said frankly. “Such fantastical works have a tendency to drive a foal’s imagination into overdrive.”

Celestia sighed. After all those years of boring textbooks and foal’s novels, getting to read a real book series seemed to fill Twilight with a deep excitement which had been charming at first, but which was quickly becoming unwieldy. “I assumed she could benefit from some more grown-up reading material,” she defended herself with a sheepish shrug. “Besides, flights of fancy are necessary in any foal’s development.”

“Not mine,” retorted the stone-faced mare. “When I was a filly, the only book I ever read was Intermediate Managerial Strategies as Pertains to Financial Accounting, and I turned out fine.”

Celestia paused. “That… explains a lot, actually.”

Soon, Celestia followed along in the hoofprints of the foal, finding Twilight’s bedroom far messier than the fastidious filly had ever let it become before. She seemed to have arranged her mattress, blankets and pillows into some sort of makeshift fort, where her toys were all discussing military operations. At the moment, Mr. Smarty Pants and Ms. Bumble Bee were crowded around a little ‘radio’. “Darn it! Report in, Alpha Squadron! Do you read me?” Twilight lowered her voice as much as she could as she spoke for Smarty Pants.

She breathed through her teeth as she imitated the crackling of a radio. “Sir! We’re — krrrrcck — on all sides by griffon commandos — kkkccccchhh — ambush by Magnus Nefarian — kkkrrcchh — not much time!” All the while, she interspersed her speech with little pew pews and even ka-booms in some facsimile of a raging battle.

Smartypants slammed his little fists on the table. “Griffon commandos? They don’t stand a chance. I have to go down there myself. It’s their only hope.”

Twilight spoke in a high-pitched voice as she shook Ms. Bumble Bee around. “Alone? But that’s certain doom, Agent Smartypants! You’d be outnumbered a hundred to one!”

Smartypants twirled Ms. Bumble Bee off her bee-feet, holding her romantically in his plush hooves. “I like those odds.” With that, their faces bumped together in a way that vaguely approximated kissing. “Mwah, mwah, mwah mwah mwah.”

The show was both adorable and disturbing in equal measures. It was time for Celestia to interject. Luckily, the foal was so enveloped in her little game that she was easy to sneak up on. “Boo!” Celestia whispered, eliciting the most adorable little eep! from Twilight as she fell over backwards. Celestia did her best evil laugh as she loomed over her faithful student. “Yes, tis I! The legendary, ahem… Dr. Sunny Hooves! Here to reap my evil vengeance upon Agent Smartypants!”

Thinking quickly, Twilight used her magic to hide Smarty Pants behind a nearby dresser. “I won’t tell you where he is! No matter what kind of horrible tortures you come up with! You’ll never get me to talk!” She crossed her forehooves with the most determined look on her face, ready to endure any imaginable torment with limitless strength of will… but all Celestia had to do was lean down and blow a raspberry on her tummy, and she was reduced to a laughing, wriggling, squealing fit! “Noooooaahahahah! Stooop! I’m tickliiish! Hehehah, okay, you win, you wiiin!”

Celestia stood with a sly smile as Twilight pouted at her defeat. Judging by the bags under her eyes, Celestia noticed, she couldn’t be getting that much rest. “Now, tell me. Did secret agent Twilight get any sleep last night?”

Twilight’s eyes darted around as she shuffled in place, seeming nervous. “Ummm… weelllll… no,” she confessed, “but I’m not tired! Honest! I’m up and-” She was interrupted by a sudden, long yawn, after which she looked downright woozy.

Celestia frowned and shook her head. “Oh, dear,” she sighed, leading Twilight towards the bathroom. “Don’t think that that’ll get you out of your studies for today, Twilight. It’s very important that you perfect the fundamentals as soon as you can. A guard of mine accidentally teleported halfway into a concrete wall the other day, and it took hours to finally carve the dreadfully embarrassed fellow free.”

“I mean… do we really gotta do the lesson stuff today, though?” Twilight asked. After all, she had only just reached the climactic battle between Con Mane and his ultimate rival, the dastardly, eyepatch-donning griffon terrorist Magnus Nefarian! “I sorta have a few more Con Mane books to read!” Celestia glanced at the pile of books, and saw only a couple had still gone unfinished. How was that possible? There was no way Twilight had read over a million words in the past few days, was there? Had she slept even a wink since her birthday?

“You can’t slack on your studies, Twilight. How do you think you’ll get into Secret Agent School without a proper education?”

Twilight’s eyes lit up instantly. “Secret Agent School? Is that really a thing?” Celestia neither confirmed nor denied it, but still, Twilight started bouncing up and down! “Okay! Okay! I wanna do lessons! I wanna learn, like, a hundred things today!”

Celestia chuckled. “Sounds like a fine idea to me. How about we start with Bathtime 101?”

All of Twilight’s youthful optimism deflated like a balloon as she realized she was standing at her bathroom door. She grumbled as she begrudgingly stepped inside. “That’s my least favorite class…”

Celestia’s bathtimes were an experience; by contrast, Twilight’s were a struggle. It took far longer than it needed to lather and rinse the squirming, complaining filly, and Celestia invariably ended up just as soaked as Twilight from all the splashing. But as struggles go, it was mercifully brief, and before long Celestia was carefully combing Twilight’s mane out on the balcony, with the birds chirping above them and the beautiful patchwork quilt of the fields and forests of Equestria sprawling out beneath them. It was a beautiful sight, Celestia knew, but such simple beauties were always lost upon the young.

She wanted to enjoy her day with Twilight, for it would be their last this week before she returned home to her family for the weekend. But the filly seemed in a bad mood, silent as the princess brushed her hair. Eventually, she spoke softly. “I still don’t know why you want to send me away.”

Celestia sighed. A few days ago, Twilight had overheard her discussing plans with her secretary to have Twilight study somewhere far away once she graduated. She could tell that Twilight was the sort who’d stay stuck in her comfort zone forever unless someone else happened to coax her out. Unfortunately, lately, Twilight had gotten this strange idea in her head that she wasn't wanted here, and overhearing that plan had only confirmed it in her mind. Celestia had hoped those birthday gifts would make it up to her, but it seemed she wasn’t so lucky. “I wouldn’t put it like that. I want you to get out and explore. See all things the world has to offer, outside of Canterlot. Try all the great things there are to try. It’ll be a learning experience,” she reassured her, “and besides, that won’t be until many years from now, anyways.”

“Why do I gotta do great things? Everything I need to learn about the world, I can find in a book, anyway.”

“Because you have so much potential, and it’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” Celestia gestured to a bird’s nest in a tree branch just above them, where a mother was pruning her baby. “Take the bird, for example. Think of all the things it could do with those wings. But the little bird never sees the beautiful sky it could explore. It only sees the ground far beneath — it’s afraid of falling. If the nest is all it knows, it appears there could be nothing worth that risk. But its mother knows of the great big world it will experience, the friends it’ll make, the adventures it’ll have; all things worth taking the leap, and soaring. But if it stays too long in its nest, it will forget that it could ever fly in the first place.”

As if on cue, the two birds took off and fluttered away into the morning sun, which Celestia found quite apropos. Twilight wasn’t nearly as impressed. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t wanna fly,” she grumbled, puffing out her cheeks in a foalish pout. “I like it in Canterlot! I have all my books, and my cool house, and my brother, and you, and… it’s not like I’m ever gonna make any friends better than the ones I already have here, anyway!” She concluded with a decisive little stomp of her forehoof.

Celestia only chuckled knowingly. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, my faithful student,” she said. “Call it a hunch.”

— — — — —

That afternoon, the castle is approached by a carriage — a surprisingly humble one, too, given the prestige of its sole passenger. A pair of piercing yellow eyes peeked out from the dark interior as the royal castle itself came into view. “So this is it? The castle of a goddess?” A deep, scratchy voice scoffed. “Doesn’t look too impressive to me.”

Many of his people would seethe with jealousy at Galahad’s “vacation”, but in all honesty, the king hadn’t enjoyed his time in Equestria in the slightest. Back in Griffonstone, you only smile at friends you are genuinely happy to see, and you only compliment those who’ve truly earned it. But these ponies tend to treat every random stranger they meet as if they’ve been friends for years, greeting them with gratuitous flattery and those big, creepy smiles. They called it ‘hospitality’, but to the naturally suspicious king, it just made the equines look like a gang of nansy pansy flank-kissers trying to butter him up.

One thing he did like about ponies: behind those fake smiles, they always had a faint fear in their eyes whenever he was looming over them. He was a massive, imposing warlord, after all, who’d perfected his body through constant training and honed his mind through years of combat experience. He was old enough to sport a few grey feathers intermingled amidst his vibrantly brown coat, and his body was riddled with scars from countless campaigns, most notably the eyepatch he sported. Griffons — hulking avians with knives for talonss and steel vices for beaks — were already scary enough, but he made the rest of his kind look like a bunch of weaklings by comparison.

Yet, to his credit, one of the stallions pulling his cart still worked up the courage to give him a tip of his hat as he stepped out of the cart. “Castle’s right up ahead, your majesty,” the stallion said with a smile, “and may I say, we are all absolutely delighted to have you here in Equestria!”

Galahad froze in place, and a sudden shiver went up the stallion’s spine, as if he realized he’d just said something horribly, horribly wrong.

“Okay, that’s it. That’s the thousandth time I’ve heard that empty platitude in a single day. There’s only so much I can take!” Galahad turned, veiling the equine in his shadow, the stallion looking like a pathetic, whimpering colt compared to him. “Allow me to ask you something, ‘friend’. Are you really delighted to see me? Did you even know what my name was before the last day or so? Were you quaking with excitement the moment you heard I’d landed in Equestria? Or were you just kissing up to me out of some vain notion of ‘politeness’?”

The stallion was too frightened to even think straight. Passersby watched helplessly, knowing that the massive griffon could easily tear the poor guy to pieces if he provoked his temper. “Umm… I… uhhh…”

“Better question, actually. Do you ponies even know what honesty is? All fake smiles, fake laughs, ‘nice to meet you’s and ‘pleasure is all mine’s. Has a single honest word ever come out of your mouth? Have you ever told anybody what you really think about them?” His tone, starting out, was one of restrained anger, but it gradually built until he was full-on shouting in the stallion’s ear. “Go on. I want to hear you try to be honest. Come on, do it. You know what you want to say! Say it! Be honest for once in your miserable little life!”

It didn’t take long for the overwhelmed stallion to reach his breaking point. “I-I hate you, and I hate this job!” He screamed. “I only work here because I dropped out of high school! Truth is, I hate every single customer!” After his outcry, the griffon leaned back with a blank expression, and the stallion looked anxiously up at him. “There — are you happy!?”

After a moment’s pause, the griffon began to… laugh? “Ahaha! Now there’s the honesty I like to see! So you ponies really are capable!” Galahad’s booming laughter filled the city street as he gave the stallion a big pat on the back, the pony letting out a sigh of relief. For a moment, the atmosphere relaxed… and then, out of nowhere, the griffon grabbed the stallion by the neck, pressing his back against the smooth cart! The stallion whimpered as the griffon leaned in close, whispering in the most terrifying, low voice he’d ever heard. “Feel lucky we’re standing on Equestrian soul, you imprudent fool. If this were Griffonstone, I’d have your head for daring to insult a king.”

With that, he finally let the stallion flop to the ground, scared, sore, and most of all, confused. “What… but… I… you said…” He stuttered, wondering just what he’d done wrong as the griffon stomped angrily away.

The truth? King Galahad had only been messing with the poor fellow, both for his own amusement and as a way of making sure all the other service staff and their stupid grins and false pleasantries would keep far away and not annoy him — and, judging by the nervous glances the other staff were exchanging, it worked like a charm

The interior of the castle, too, failed to impress him. The sleek staircases and marble floors emanated sophistication and culture, sure, but where was the might? Where were the passionate, fiery reds, the military banners, the memorials to great heroes felled in battle? Castle foyers, he figured, should humble guests, not welcome them; all he could imagine was how cleanly a cannonball would cut through these thin walls. At least Princess Celestia’s entrance had the right idea — she emerged from atop the staircase looking down upon him, as if to make her guest feel small beneath her. “King Galahad,” she greeted in that smooth, velvety voice. “Allow me to be the first to say how delighted we are to have you here.”

He laughed. “Oh, if only you were the first.” He stomped up the stairs, squinting as he sized her up. “Princess of the sun, is it? I’ve heard a lot about you. I have to admit, I always imagined you looking a bit more… imposing.”

She tilted her head. “Ah? Is that so? Well, aheh, I try not to look too intimidating. Better to rule with love than fear, as they say.” King Galahad scoffed at that, as she knew he would. Just as his beak parted to mock her sentiment, though, an unexpected interloper stumbled into the foyer.

There stood Twilight Sparkle, staring up at her the look of a foal who’d just learned what the word ‘disappointment’ truly meant for the first time. After driving herself mad staying awake night after night pouring over every read in the entire series, she’d used her free time today to finally make it to the very end, only to come to one horrifying realization: the series ended on a cliffhanger! And judging by the release dates, the author had no intention of continuing. That was the sort of brutal reality that Twilight’s young mind just wasn’t ready to cope with. “Celestia, you’ve gotta pass a law that all authors hafta finish their-” She begged, only for her eyes to bug out when she noticed Galahad. “Wh-who’s…?”

Beneath her poker face, Celestia’s eye twitched, almost imperceptibly. Please just act normal, Twilight. Now of all times, I beg of you, she mentally pleaded. “Oh! If it isn’t my faithful student. Say hello to King Galahad, Twilight, he came all the way from Griffonstone just to meet us here.”

Galahad looked down sternly on the scrawny, wimpy little unicorn filly. “Good afternoon, ‘Twilight’,” he said. No response. Twilight just stared up at him, bug-eyed, like a deer frozen in a pair of headlights. The uncomfortable silence dragged on and on. “Uuuh, is she… mute?”

Behind that blank stare, a deep, existential horror was filling the filly’s mind. The hulking griffin, the grey feathers, the scars, the eyepatch — every last detail, exactly as Magnus Nefarian had been described. The same Magnus Nefarian who stroked a white cat on his lap as he threatened to execute Con Mane with a laser right up main street. The same Magnus Nefarian who killed Con Mane’s marefriend in Con Mane #14: The Spy Who Saddled Me. The same Magnus Nefarian who’d tormented the hero for over a million words and counting… and here he was, standing right in front of her. It seemed impossible, but to the filly’s severely sleep-deprived mind, there was no other explanation.

“He’s… he’s real!” She suddenly screamed! The two leaders watched, dumbfounded, as Twilight took off springing down the hall in a fit of panic. “He’s real! Everypony! He’s real! Run for your lives!”

They both stood in a dazed silence as Twilight’s cries faded into the distance. Celestia had to resist the urge to smash her own face through the nearest window.

“Your ‘student’, hmm?” A smirk crept over Gallahad’s beak. “I must say, if that is the highest caliber of citizen you can raise, I am sorely disappointed.” Celestia may have looked completely calm, but on the inside, she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from screaming. Did Twilight really have to choose now, of all times, to go crazy?

She swallowed her temper. “Well, I hate to disappoint,” she tried to change the subject as they continued down the hall, “but our citizens notwithstanding, I assure you that our tea, at least, won’t fail to impress.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard the tea here in Canterlot is the best in all the world,” he said. “That’s why I won’t be having a single drop of it.”

Celestia had to do a double-take at that. It was so absurd, but he said it so matter-of-factly. “I beg your pardon?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, princess, we all know how this works. You butter up all your guests with your unbelievable tea, and before you know it, they’re in such a good mood they’ll sign pretty much any treaty you put in front of ‘em.” He stomped his talons against the shiny floor. “Well, I ain’t falling for it!” Drats. He’s… actually not far off the mark there, she thought to herself. She’d been hoping her tea would rein in that fiery temper of his. It felt like the stars themselves were aligning to make her day as difficult as it could possibly get.

Things are only getting worse and worse, she thought bitterly as she stepped into the conference room at last. This meeting is going to be a disaster…

If only she knew how right she was.

For poor Twilight, it felt like her whole reality had been turned upside down. After all those nights of ceaseless reading, each page began to blur into the next; then, each novel; and now, the entire series was blurring with reality itself. Her brain begged her to finally sleep, but she resisted stubbornly. She had important work to do! Princess Celestia was in more danger than she could possibly imagine! And she only knew one agent worthy of such a dire task.

“Agent Smarty Pants, this may be your most important mission yet,” she whispered to the stuffed doll sitting across from her on her bedroom floor as she laid out her plans. "The whole fate of Equestria rests on your shoulders…”

2. The Sun Falls

Look at her, fretting about like a nervous schoolfoal! Celestia can’t lose her cool like this when so many ponies are relying on her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, centering herself. Get your head in the game, she mentally reprimanded herself. You’ve done this for centuries. A few… “setbacks” aren’t going to trip you up.

In her mind, she was already forming a psychological profile of the griffon sitting across from her. Above all else, he was… suspicious. So suspicious he believed every form of flattery was a ploy to curry favor; he refused to touch the food, in case it was poisoned; he was constantly checking over his shoulder for assassins lurking in the shadows. An understandable trait, Celestia supposed, given how his predecessors have tended to meet unpleasant fates before the ink had even dried upon their coronation announcements. He also wasn’t the type for bureaucracy. As her senator unfolded the scrolls of treaties and contracts and bilateral agreements, the griffon only glanced over them with a profound indifference, more admiring their handwriting than pondering their legalese.

She took a sip of her delicious tea, steeled herself, and began. The first strategy she attempted: getting this all over with as quickly as possible. “Personally, I feel little need to amend the terms of our friendship, and I think you will agree. Your independence has been guaranteed, we will defend you in the case of an offensive war, and a thriving trade relationship has been established by your predecessors-”

“My predecessors were buffoons.” He waved a talon, speaking low, not even bothering to look her in the eye. “If Griffonstone is to survive, it must wean itself off of your imports, your people, your culture. No offense, of course.”

Celestia blinked. “Um. I… don’t believe I’m following,” she confessed, dumbfounded. “Our trade relationship had been an immense boon to Griffonstone throughout these periods of financial hardship. We’ve helped keep your people fed in spite of the drought.”

“A boon? More like a pair of shackles,” he retorted, his fiery gaze meeting hers. “Equestria has fattened itself off our natural resources, and in return, the griffons have become lazy. Complacent. Why support our own traditional textiles when we can buy Equestrian clothing so cheaply? Why build anything for ourselves when we can just buy it from the ponies? We’re a people without dignity. It’s disgusting.”

She nodded thoughtfully, jotting down his concerns. He was right, after all; monopolizing foreign industries like this was something she usually strove to avoid, but previous griffon kings had flat-out begged her for it. “It’s foreign competition that concerns you, then? We can implement new tariffs that will-“

“It's your entire ethos that concerns me, your majesty.” He interrupts her again. He was clearly passionate about this. “I always hear your kind preaching ‘the pony way’. Maybe this ‘way’ works for your subjects lazing about in their comfortable little fairy tale land beneath the micromanagement of a goddess, but it doesn’t work for the rest of the world.” Celestia swallowed. Ah. So he doesn’t want to debate practical matters, but rather… philosophy, she thought. I was afraid of that.

Usually, she’d try to placate such guests, nodding along with their arguments and pretending to be convinced by them. Gallahad, though, would see through any such insincerity on her part in an instant. She was just going to have to play along. “Micromanagement? I’m not a goddess. I wouldn’t even call myself a ruler. That’s simply not my talent,” she replied, assuming he just thought her a tyrant. “The citizens of Equestria vote on their own representatives, their own laws. They effectively rule themselves.”

“What is your ‘talent’, then? Don’t tell me you’re just some ceremonial figurehead.”

“I am a teacher. My only goal has always been to create a place where my subjects feel safe to explore, to learn, to grow. Where they can take risks knowing that I will be there to catch them if they fall. To give them room to find that one thing that they were born to do — that one dream where all their passion lies. To reach their full potential.” She took another sip. “At the time I was born, cutie marks were a rare sight, you know. Ponies were forced to writtle away their days doing jobs they neither enjoyed nor were any good at, and spent their entire lives convinced they never had any potential at all.”

That old spiel usually charmed everyone else, but it only caused Gallahad’s face to scrunch up in disgust. “That’s precisely what I hate about you ‘sharing is caring’ types. Where’s the reward, without the risk? Where’s the struggle without the threat of genuine failure? Where’s the chance to snatch success from the jaws of fate; the satisfaction of being able to say they truly fought for and earned their self-actualization? Or are they merely being entertained with frivolous hobbies dropped right into their laps?” He shook his head mournfully. “That poor student of yours. Having you babysit her every step of her life, rather than being able to forge her own path to success with her talents. And do you not realize the danger? She’ll be even more powerful than you, one day.”

Most of his points weren't worth arguing with. Such a difference in worldviews was far too fundamental to amend over the course of a single tea party. What he said last, though, did catch her interest. “If she were to surpass me, I would be delighted.”

Gallahad gawked at her, as if wondering whether she was joking or not… before bursting out laughing so hard he almost fell out of his seat! “Ahahaha! You ponies really are dumber than a bag of hammers!” Celestia only sat there, slightly embarrassed, as Gallahad wept as if she’d just told the funniest joke in the universe. “Tell me, o wise princess — what happens next? What’s to stop her from claiming the throne for herself?”

“Whyever would she want to do that?” Celestia asked. “Equestria hasn’t had a popularly backed uprising or coup at any point in the past thousand years. As I understand it, Griffonstone has them on a monthly basis. Do you ever wonder why that is?”

At the mention of the coups, Gallahad’s tone suddenly shifted again. Apparently, that was a sore subject. “Because of you,” he hissed. That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting, but she supposed the deflection of blame was a common coping strategy. “Every country on the planet’s been infected by your ‘superior’ pony culture, much less Griffonstone. Griffons’ most famous works of art used to be tragedies, you know: stories of those who tried to live out their greatest dreams, and failed. When people see the unfairness of life, it only inspires them to work even harder. Nowadays, our new plays are just like ponies', filled with those saccharine happy endings. ‘Just follow your dreams, and everything will work out!’ It’s convinced our kings to rest on their laurels, to lazily take their success for granted.”

He aggressively pointed his thumb to his chest. “But not me. Unlike them, I know what it means to struggle. I fought tooth and nail for every inch of the power I now hold, and I’m never letting it go.” She had to admit, he did look quite a bit more rugged than the ‘kings’ who came before him. They all had the feeble physiques of those who’ve lived comfortably, while Galahad looked like he’d been to Tartarus and back.

Celestia shook her head. She’d heard it all before. “It is the mark of a poor leader to jealously hoard power to themself. No matter how powerful you become, you’ll never be able to fight your nation’s every battle by yourself. To lead is an exercise in trusting your subjects: trusting they’ll use the freedom you’ve given them responsibly; trusting them to work and fight and run your kingdom in your stead; trusting them to make your kingdom their own, and turn it into something far better than you ever could’ve imagined. If you cannot trust your subjects, nothing will ever get done,” she argued. “And any ‘safety’ power provides is a mere illusion. No matter how thoroughly one’s subjugated their people, or how trained they are in combat, nothing can save any king from a million daggers pointed at their back. Safety only comes from respect — earned due to valor, not terror. Should an assassin come for your life, you want your subjects earnestly rushing to your aid, not cheering them on.”

Most of her lecture went in one ear and out the other, but parts of it did cause him to raise a brow, a bit surprised. “You presume to imply I’m an incompetent leader?”

“I assumed someone of your stature would expect nothing less than absolute honesty.”

Once again, he was laughing his head off, but less mockingly this time — with her, not at her. “Hah! I’ve got to admit, you’re a cut above your little subjects, after all,” he chuckled, flashing her the first smile she’d seen from him, “but you’re still hopelessly, hopelessly naive. With any luck, you’ll realize that before that little apprentice of yours has your head mounted on a pike.”

Celestia nodded. “And I hope you learn something from our teatime as well, before you end up like poor old Dolimar.” Imperceptibly, the corners of her lips curled up into the tiniest hint of a triumphant smile. He was a tough nut to crack, no doubt, but she was already starting to make inroads with him, and she could see him start to relax around her. She was starting to figure the inscrutable griffon out. This meeting should go over swimmingly after all, bar any more unexpected setbacks…

Twilight’s mission wasn’t going nearly so smoothly.

For days, she’d been shifting back and forth between periods of energeticness and exhaustion, but every hour, the former periods were getting shorter while the latter only grew more severe. It was like there were hundred-pound barbells tied to her eyelids, to the point that merely squinting felt like a test of will. “And once Smarty Pants is in position, Ms. Bumble Bee will sting him from behind, and then… and then…” She pointed to the blueprint she’d drawn on the floor, trying to puzzle out a plan of attack, but her explanation kept getting interrupted by deep yawns. Soon, the beckoning of sleep became irresistible for the little filly. “Maybe… maybe we’ll continue after a… a quick nap.”

Just as she’d curled up and finally rested her weary eyes, however, a voice opened up just before her. It was suave, deep — exactly the voice she’d always imagined for Con Mane. “The whole fate of Equestria hangs in the balance, and you want to just… nap!?”

Through the power of adrenaline, all her energy surged back as she was startled to her hooves. She looked around her room in a confused heap, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The only source the voice could’ve come from was Smarty Pants himself — who, somehow, now looked to be wearing a little felt suit. Who had even sewn him that? “S-Smarty Pants, did you just… talk?”

The doll didn’t move an inch, yet the same voice echoed through the room. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “You’re darn right I did! And you just gave up! I thought I’d taught you better than that, Twilight. Don’t you remember what I said in book 4, page 364? ‘Only terrorists give up’! Are you a terrorist?”

Her brain was too scrambled up and exhausted at this point to even question what was happening. The lines between fiction and reality had fully eroded, and Twilight could only go with the flow. “No! I’m a good filly! I salute Equestria every day! But… I’m just so tired, Con Mane.” She punctuated her point with a long yawn. “Don’t secret agents have nap times?”

“We nap when the job is done! Did I ever take a nap while hiking across the Yakian Alps to disarm the ultima-harmony bomb? Not even a wink! Now, Celestia is in there getting brainwashed by Nefarian’s charm as we speak. If we don’t save her, nopony will.”

Mentally, Twilight weighed which was more important: saving all of Equestria from evil griffons, or finally getting a proper nap. The former won out, only barely.

Once more she went sneaking through the halls - well, by now, it could be more accurately called exhausted stumbling. She wandered aimlessly about for a while, her addled mind struggling to remember what was where within the labyrinthian castle walls, but she eventually found her way to the door to the conference room through sheer tenacity. Soon, the guard outside the door felt a tiny plush hoof impact the back of his head. “Karate chop!” To Twilight’s surprise, instead of falling unconscious, the guard just stood firm as if nothing had happened, so she tried again. “I said… karate chop!”

The guard snorted, leaning his head down so he could level with the foal. “I’m sorry, Twilight, but I can’t play right now. There’s an important meeting going on.”

“But I’m not playing! This is seriooous!” She whined.

He chuckled, ruffling up the filly’s mane with his hoof, leaving her with her bangs perched adorably over her eyes for a moment. “I’m sure it is. Our little secret agent needs to save the world again, hmm?” He said. “Well, why don’t you play in the garden? I heard the evil Dandelion Armada is planning something nefarious!”

For a moment, the drowsy filly actually believed him, and was fully prepared to rush out and combat this dandelion menace. Then she thought it over. “Hey, wait! You can’t trick me! Plants can’t be villains!” She pouted and stomped her hooves. Before he needed to come up with some other excuse, though, she suddenly tensed and paused, gears turning in her head. Wait, the garden! That’s a great idea! The guard watched, bemused, as the filly shot off like a rocket!

The garden was the only large room among the upper floors that was fully outdoors, flourishing beneath Celestia’s sun. In her years of living here, the filly had learned that that meant it provided easy roof access via climbing a stack of boxes the guards had neglected to put away. The sloped roofs weren’t too steep, but at the filly’s current energy level, scaling them felt like climbing Mt Everhoof; and with the sun beating down on her, she felt like a nomad lost in some endless, scalding desert. But, by the skin of her teeth, she’d made it up to the skylight through which Celestia’s little meeting could be seen. She could see them smiling as they talked, even laughing… Nefarian clearly already had Celestia under his spell! She had to act quickly!

Beneath her, the meeting itself was going swimmingly. Not a lot of actual important political issues had been addressed, mind you, but the tensedness had eased and the two had warmed up to eachother, Celestia even coaxing a few laughs from the griffon. “What? You mean to tell me you’ve never listened to Beethooven's Fifth? I thought that song was all the rage with the youth nowadays,” she gasped, only for her personal guard to lean in and whisper something in her ear. “It came out two hundred years ago!? It felt like just a few months! Goodness, I really am getting old.”

Galahad raised a brow, leaning forward with interest. “So you’re really as ancient as the legends say?” He asked, incredulous. “Are you sure you’re not a goddess? To escape the cycles of life and death… that hardly seems natural.”

Celestia chuckled, shaking her head and waving a hoof. “Not a goddess, no. Far from it,” she replied. “Just your typical old crone. Older than I’d like, to be honest.”

“Would you happen to have ever spoken to King Grover in person, then?” Galahad asked, a tinge of excitement in his tone. “He is something of a folk hero to us griffons. Particularly among royalty.”

“Really? I’m surprised you’d be so interested in a success story.” She cocked a brow, downing the rest of her tea in a final sip. “Grover was a lovely fellow, from what little I saw of him. He did have a little bit of trouble handling his ale, however. Went too heavy at the tavern that night and ditched me to go play horseshoe games with a few other drunkards. By the time he woke up the next morning, he’d blown his entire budget for the trip on ballet lessons, shaved all the fur off his backside so he could get a tattoo of a mermare battling a hydra, and had gotten legally engaged to my pet phoenix.”

Many would be disappointed to hear of their personal hero doing something so embarrassing — but Gallahad just laughed himself out of his seat again! “Hah! Now that’s something you won’t find in the history books!” By now, Galahad was in such a good mood that, when a maid came by to refill Celestia’s cup of tea, he raised a talon. “You know what? I think I’ll have a cup of tea myself. After everything I’ve heard of its flavor, I’d be a fool to not give it a try.” Celestia smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. She was certain she’d already won — this was just the victory lap.

There was only one factor she couldn’t have considered. As the maid returned with a fresh cup, Twilight grit her teeth and focused every last ounce of her might and energy… only to produce a single, tiny, glowing pink droplet from the very tip of her horn. It was a form of distilled arcane energy, or more simply, a spell in liquid form — a technique generally only practiced by the most skilled of unicorns, but Twilight had always been talented far beyond her years. It was only by the hand of fate that she managed the one-in-a-million shot, the droplet landing right in Gallahad’s cup with an unheard splosh. The filly had to stifle an excited shout. If all went well, the poison would knock him out cold, giving her time to convince Celestia and her guards of what a monster the griffon was!

The only problem: he was extensively trained at sniffing out poisons.

The moment he brought the tea to his beak, he paused. His arrows narrowed. Looking down, he noticed a faint blend of glowing pink swirling around amidst the caramel brown of his tea. “What is… this?”

Celestia tilted her head. His demeanor had changed completely, but she hadn’t quite realized it yet. “Oh? The exact recipe is a trade secret, I’m afraid, but I will say it’s made with amaria leaves sourced from the polar-”

The griffon’s fist smashed into the table, making her jump in her seat! His expression was restrained, but Celestia could see the deep and profound fury in his eyes. He’d experienced plenty of assassinstion plots before, after all, so there was a glimmer of trauma there. “Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Princess’. What, exactly, did you put in my drink?” Celestia sat quietly, at a loss for words. Thinking she was playing dumb, he held up the cup to one of her guards. “You. Take a sip of this.”

The guard reluctantly accepted a mouthful of the coffee, before shuffling about as if woozy… and all at once, keeling over onto the ground!

A cacophony of shocked gasps filled the room as the stallion fell. Gallahad shattered his cup against the floor, practically foaming at the mouth in his fury. “Poison!” He roared. “You tried to poison me!?”

Celestia hadn’t the foggiest idea what was going on, but she tried her best to mitigate the damage. “I assure you, there must be some sort of misunderstanding! I would do no such thing, and we employ the highest security measures to make sure-” Before she could finish, he was upon her, talons clasping down around her neck with preternatural strength.

“Who hired you to assassinate me? Was it Gwyneth? Or the Grimspale Clan, perhaps? Or… was my presence merely a threat to your own miserable little empire?” He demanded, as Celestia sputtered for air. He had the strength of dragons; sure, he was big, but he was exerting force that simply didn’t seem possible for someone of his size. Could those jeweled armrings be enchanted?

Her guards rushed to her defense. They didn’t fare much better. “Hey! Get your hands off of-” Before they could even finish a sentence, Galahad's grand wings unfolded, batting spears from their hooves as he swung around, looking like a flurry of talons and feathers. Even under the best of circumstances, it would take multiple ponies to take down a griffon — but their king? It would take a platoon. One unfortunate guard had his head gripped in his talons and smashed against the ground; another was thrown off his feet by a flurry of those wings, bouncing off a marble pillar; and the least fortunate of all faced the wrath of the infamous griffonese suplex!

Twilight could only watch in horror as the melee unfolded. She hadn’t meant for anything like this to happen. “Wait! Stop! It was me! It was meeeep!” She tried to right her wrongs, she leaned too far forwards and accidentally sent herself plummeting through the skylight window, bouncing off a table and landing unnoticed in a heap upon the tiled floor as the battle raged on.

As her guards laid strewn about, groaning in pain, the hulking beast of a griffon turned and loomed over the coughing princess, who clutched her sore throat. His eyes were wide with the fury of betrayal, and for a moment, she feared he might try to finish her off. Instead, he spoke calmly. “I hope you realize what this means,” he said. “You ponies have made a powerful enemy.”

And with that, he tore off into the sunlit sky, leaving the groaning equines to lick their wounds.

Celestia tried to steel herself. She’d been through worse than this, after all — though at least in those times, she usually had the opportunity to prepare, to brace herself. This had come out of nowhere, and her mind was still reeling. “Is he okay?” She asked, pointing a hoof towards the guard who had drunk the poison. Even now, her primary concern was the safety of her subjects.

Another guard rushed up to him, relieved to find him still breathing. He checked his pulse, and found it normal, and when he pried up one of his eyelids and shined a light, his pupil dilated. “He’ll live. He’s only been knocked out cold.”

That was a relief, but Celestia was scrambling her brains trying to figure out where the poison even came from. Could the maid have spiked it? No, the other maids test every cup before it enters the room. Unless they were all in on it? But no, then the guards would’ve noticed something off. It seemed like an impossible puzzle… at least, until a tiny little voice rang out. “It was… a sleeping poison.” From behind an overturned table came Twilight, the filly looking small and shivering, like a whimpering pup.

Celestia’s heart sank. It all clicked in her head. “Twilight… what did you do?

“I just wanted to help! Make him pass out… before he could hurt you! He was Nefarian!” Twilight stammered.

Celestia couldn’t believe her ears. She’d poisoned a foreign ruler in the name of some… childish fantasies? Countless ponies could die as a result of this! The stoic princess had never lost her cool before, but now, Twilight was witnessing a fraction of her true wrath for the very first time. She loomed what felt like a million miles over her with those pulsing, golden eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the full fury of the sun would come down upon her and turn her to ash. “Is this about that Con Mane obsession? Don’t you realize what you’ve done with your silly little games? This could mean war!” She turned away as if too ashamed to look at her, clenching her eyes shut and composing herself. She attempted to stifle her temper, but only transformed it into something low, malignant, festering. Her voice turned bitter. “Maybe taking you as my student was a mistake.”

It was all too much for Twilight to bear. Feeling Celestia’s wrath, even for a moment, was terrifying, sure, but that last remark was the true dagger through the filly’s heart. It was the first time the princess had ever said something specifically designed to hurt her. She stared up at her mentor, feeling a wetness on her cheeks as her eyes filled with tears… before sprinting off out of the room, crying openly. Instantly, the sight of Twilight’s despair replaced Celestia’s fury with regret. Her heart lurched, mentally kicking herself. Is there a single thing I’m not going to make a complete mess of today?

But she could apologize to her poor student later. For now, time was of the essence. “I have to go talk to him. Explain things before he leaves Equestria’s borders. If he makes it back to Griffonstone like this, his people will be united against us,” she asserted, her massive, pearly wings unfurling, sun shining through her feathers.

Her head guard seemed nervous about this plan, but nodded. “We’ll have a pegasi squadron accompany-“

Ccelestia shook her head as she pulled open a window, acting quickly. She only had seconds to spare before it would be too late. “No. Tell them to hang back at a safe distance. I have to go alone. Otherwise, it will look like a strike force on its way to attack him,” she demanded. The guard wasn’t sure of the wisdom of this plan, but there was no time to argue. “And have someone take care of Twilight, will you? I… shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.” With that, she was finally off, rocketing away into the afternoon sky fast enough to send a gust of wind booming through the chamber.

He may be strong, but she was the faster of the two of them. She quickly closed the gap between them, Galahad at first looking like a black dot in the distant sky, before his furry features came into focus as Celestia neared. “Wait! Galahad! We need to talk!” She cried out in her booming royal voice, chasing after even as he soared directly upwards, as if trying to evade her. Just as she was about to catch up, Galahad disappeared into a large, thick cloud, and Celestia fearlessly followed him into the fog. “Galahad?” She squinted through the murky white.

There was silence for a moment, besides the steady flapping of wings… until Galahad suddenly came crashing down upon her from above, like a piano falling upon her head! “Come back to finish the job, have you?” He wrapped his arms around her neck, trying to put her in a sleeperhold.

This time, she was prepared. His strength may be unbeatable, but all she had to do was teleport out of his grip to render it moot. If she wanted, she could end him with a concussive blast of arcane force at that very moment, but doing so would defeat the point. “Please, we can talk about this!” She tried desperately to get a word in edgewise. “This is all just a misunderstandioof!” She tried to raise her forcefield to blow his blow, but she was just a decisecond too late, and Galahad’s fist collided with her chest with the force of a train, knocking the breath out of her!

As she sputtered and gasped, the griffon taunted the mare he believed to be his assassin. “What a fool I was! First time I’d trusted a soul in years, and this is what I get?” He let out that same, hearty laugh once more, though now it sounded downright sinister. “Hah! Figures!” He was so caught up in gloating that he almost didn’t notice her horn glowing, and only just barely managed to dodge the glowing beam of energy that pulsed forward! He cried out, feeling its searing burn as it just grazed him.

Meanwhile, a horrified Twilight came rushing out of the castle just in time to see the flash of arcane light burst from the top of the cloud. Ponies all across Canterlot were staring up at the cloud, gasping and arguing as they tried to discern the fight within. “She’s kicking his butt up there!” “No way, she’s doomed!” “What are they fighting over again?” The pegasi squadron, realizing what was happening, started racing towards the cloud to aid their royal charge.

Celestia was rusty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a proper fight; meanwhile, her foe’s probably been fighting every single day of his life. He was fast enough to dodge most of the softball spells she was hurling his way, and hit hard enough that those relentless punches and scratches hurt like Tartarus, even for a pony as supernaturally durable as her. Some part of her wanted to just blow him out of the sky with one of her stronger spells, but she was still holding out hope he could be talked down. “Pathetic! How long has it been since you’ve last fought?” He laughed as he flew circles around her. “Decades, maybe centuries of complacency. You’ve given your subjects so much power, you’ve let yourself become weak.”

Celestia was becoming exasperated. She began charging up one final spell, guaranteed to ground her assailant, albeit surely gravely wounding him in the process. “I’m warning you! If you don’t stand down, I’ll-” Once more, she was cut off when he came crashing down onto her back, her breath catching in her throat and shivers travelling up her spine as he roughly gripped her long horn.

“Destroy me? I figured,” he mocked, “so let's take away these little tricks of yours.” Every single ounce of his prodigious strength was expended as he strained to pull at her horn with all of his might, with enough force to tear the beams of a house from their foundations.

She desperately attempted to charge another teleportation, but Galahad clung on tightly even as the glowing horn seared his talon. Through her incredible durability, the horn held strong for several seconds, before, with a crack, a hairline fracture splintered out near its base, through both the keratin shell and the bone beneath. Painful in the best of circumstances — but a pony's horn is a cluster of densely packed nerve endings, truly sensitive especially when run raw with powerful magic. Merely brushing against it made her shiver; splintering the very bone was enough to make even Celestia cry out in a sort of profound anguish that surprised even Galahad!

“Gggrrrraaaaah-!”

The pegasi squad had been just on the verge of making it when Celestia dropped from the bottom of the cloud, too wracked with pain to even bat her wings. The ponies below gasped in shock and horror as her limp form fell from the sky, leaving a trail of feathers floating in its wake, before her visage disappeared behind the horizon of buildings and rooftops.

All the while, one thought shot through Twilight’s mind, over and over: what have I done?

3. The Sun Sets

Twilight was sprinting through town as fast as her little legs could take her.

She’d never felt so miserable. All the day's events felt like confirmations of things she’d been fearing for a long time. You’re worthless. Celestia wants to get rid of you. You’re a burden. All you can do is make everything worse. The bad thoughts she’d fled from for so long were now consuming her, and all that pushed her forward was the desperate hope that her mentor was okay.

As her thoughts turned darker, so did the words of the plushy tied to her back. “She’s probably already dead.” Came Con Mane’s twisted voice from Smarty Pants. At least, it was almost his voice, but seemed lower, more sinister, like some twisted facsimile. “If she’s not, she’ll surely kick you to the curb, after what you’ve done.”

She winced. The thought so distracted her that she almost went sprinting headlong into a food cart. “Shut up! This is all your fault!”

“No, it’s all your fault. You wanted to feel useful, but all you’ve done is proven how useless you really are.”

She clenched her eyes shut. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Her horn glew, and the strings around her shoulders snapped under a sudden force. Smarty Pants was sent flying off of her back, rolling into a heap on the concrete road as Twilight rushed onwards. She could still hear Con Mane’s voice fading steadily into the distance.

By some fortune, instead of smashing through somepony’s roof, Celestia came crashing down upon the bricks in the plaza at the city’s center — the sudden appearance of their battered and beaten ruler coming as some shock to the townsponies who had no idea any sort of battle was going on in the first place. The pegasi squadron quickly followed, barking orders and clearing space for the medics. They had hoped that Galahad would be satisfied with his victory and fly off. They were wrong.

The griffon landed with enough force to shake the earth around him, knocking a few ponies off balance. Fear flashed in the guardsponies eyes for just a moment… but to Galahad’s surprise, they stood their ground, determination on their faces as they placed themselves firmly between him and Celestia. They knew that a small squad of a half dozen scrawny ponies were doomed in a fight with a griffon of this size, but they faced that doom with bravery. Luckily for them, the griffon preferred to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. “Step aside,” he demanded, waving a hand. “This is between me and her.”

He puffed out his chest and emphasized his posture, veiling the ponies in his shadow, trying to intimidate them. None of them so much as flinched. He’d really expected these soft little equines to be more cowardly. “Please! Stay away!” A desperate voice rang out from the crowd, and a dozen ponies voiced their agreement.

Galahad sighed. The fools. This was their only opportunity to avoid a war — so long as Galahad could finish off his would-be assassin, he’d have no trouble leaving the rest of Equestria alone. “Come, now. I don’t want to feud with you ponies. I’m sure none of you innocent little things had any idea of your treacherous queen’s plot to murder me,” he said. “But I’ve dealt with assassins like her dozens of times. Let her serve as an example to the others. There’s no need for innocent lives to be lost along with her.”

Among griffons, strength came from the individual. Among ponies, it came from the herd. They relied on eachother for safety, for comfort, for support. So, to Galahad’s surprise, just as it seemed like the pegasi squadron’s confidence was beginning to waver, a random stallion from the crowd stepped forward and joined them. “If you want to hurt the Princess, then,” he shouted. “you’ll have to go through me, first!” He was clearly terrified, his hooves shaking and eyes wide, but he put his life on the line anyway.

The stallion’s courage inspired the crowd. Soon, another pony stepped forward to join him. “And me!” This set off a conga line of agreement, with the entire crowd of ponies rushing to join the guards, standing in Celestia’s defense even if it meant certain death. “And me!” “And me!” “Me, too!” Soon, he was faced by a crowd of dozens of ponies all facing him down, their expressions terrified but determined.

Galahad didn’t know what to make of it. “You’d really lay down your lives just to protect her, of all ponies?” He spat, pointing to the injured alicorn. “She’s a tyrant. She treats you like sheep, brainwashed and complacent under her control.”

A mare in the crowd stepped forward, unable to just stand there and listen to his slander. “She’s not a tyrant! She’s the kindest pony I’ve ever met!” She shouted. “When I was a foal, she noticed all the plants in my garden just kept dying. And despite how super busy she was, she spent a whole afternoon teaching me how to raise them right. And look at me now!” She gestured to her flanks, where the emblem of a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables could be seen.

Once more, this seemed to inspire another wave of townsponies to all shout out what made Celestia so special to them, with such fervor that it strained Gallahad’s ears. “Yeah! Best pony I’ve met, too!” A stallion called out amidst the cacophony. “Our charity fer helpin’ homeless foals was in bad sorts when, all of a sudden, somepony made the most generous donation I’d ever seen - but I’d no idea who! Took real sleuthing to find out Celestia herself had a staffer lodge her donation on her behalf anonymously - she just wanted to help, didn’t want nothin’ in return, not even recognition. Now, does that sound like a tyrant to you?”

Even a bedraggled mare, the type normally paralyzed by social anxiety, was so emboldened by the crowd that she stepped forward to speak. “Me too,” she spoke softly. “When I was in a bad place, she heard me sitting on my balcony, crying. She flew right up just to give me somepony to talk to. She didn’t even know me, but she spent the whole night with me, just to help me when I needed it. She… she saved my life.”

Finally, Twilight made it to the plaza, the little filly bursting through the crowd to stand up to the hulking griffon, looking him right in the eye. “And she’s the best teacher ever! She’s so kind, so patient. She gave up everything just to help ponies. She’s… she’s my best friend!” She shouted, tears on her cheeks. “So you can’t hurt her, mister griffon! You just can’t! She’s all we have!” The rest of the crowd all shouted and whistled in solidarity. Celestia was more than just a figurehead to them. All of their hopes, their dreams, their accomplishments, their memories of triumph and healing — it all laid within that wounded mare lying before him.

Galahad was stunned. It wasn’t their sob stories that touched him — he really didn't care, and besides, he could barely understand them with everyone speaking at once. It was the realization that their defense of Celestia was genuinely selfless; they truly cared. Back in Griffonstone, this would be unthinkable. If a monarch couldn’t protect himself, it was believed that he deserved what was coming to him. If Galahad were in the same position, not even his most loyal subjects would be willing to face certain doom just to protect him. In fact, they’d probably just crack jokes about his death. He remembered what Celestia said earlier, about safety only being obtainable through the respect and adoration of one’s subjects. At the time, he’d assumed she was unbearably naïve… but now, he was feeling like a fool.

For the first time, doubt crept onto his face, his will faltering. But he steeled himself. His rage had subsided by now, but he still knew, rationally, that Celestia had committed a crime that could not go unpunished. “Touching as that all may be,” he asserted, “she’s not as kind as you imagine. The fact remains that she tried to poison me.”

Nopony quite knew what to say to that — except Twilight. She knew full well, but she was so clogged with tears that she felt like she was choking. She tried to speak up a few times, but the words kept dying on her lips, until at last she could force them out. “No, she didn’t. That was… that was me. I thought you were going to hurt her, so I… I just wanted to…” She closed her eyes and shouted. “If you’re gonna… k-kill anypony… it should be me! This is all my fault!”

Twilight tensed and waited for the end. The end never came. At first, the griffon looked over her incredulously, certain it was just another tale made up to defend their princess. But she was acting with a level of sincerity no foal her age could ever fake. His will was strong, his mind rebelled stubbornly against this new information… but deep down, he couldn’t find a way to dispute it. It all made so much sense. The crowd watched in horror, expecting him to strike the filly down, but instead… he began to laugh.

The crowd watched on, baffled, as Galahad once more reverted to his hearty laughter. He sat himself on a nearby bench, burying his face in his talons. “A foal? Made a fool of… by a foal? All this over such a simple thing?”

The entire situation felt to a grand cosmic joke, like the fates themselves conspired to teach the stubborn old king a lesson, like something out of an old Griffonese parable. “Oh, you ponies. You never fail to make me laugh.”

The crowd watched uncomfortably as he laughed and laughed. They weren’t sure whether to be relieved, or more worried than ever. “So,” Twilight eventually worked up the courage to ask, her frightened voice almost too quiet to be heard. “…does that mean you’re not gonna hurt the princess?”

He'd read enough fairy tales. He knew where this parable was leading. The hot-headed king tricked into slaying the sun herself and plunging the word into turmoil, doomed to be forever remembered by history for his utter buffoonery. Well, that was not a fable he wanted to play a part in. He exhaled deeply, an amused smile on his face as he gazed over the sleeping alicorn. “Question now’s whether she’ll hurt me. I’m sure she knows a thousand tricks that can unmake me the moment she wakes up,” he said, standing from his perch. “All things considered… it’d probably be wisest to take my leave.”

The crowd visibly relaxed in a single moment, letting out a symphony of chuckles and sighs of reliefs as the townsponies realized they were all going to live another day. It was almost surreal, seeing him so calm after witnessing his fury just minutes ago, but griffon psychology had always been inscrutable to ponies. Twilight stepped forward again. “Are you still gonna… um… do a war on us?”

She flinched as he turned and grabbed her by the shoulder — but to her surprise, he had a smile on his face. “Naw. You know, I misjudged you ponies. You’re all a far tougher bunch than I’d ever imagined you’d be. And certainly full of surprises, too.” He poked her in the chest with a talon. “Especially you. Seeing the way she coddled you, I had assumed you’d be a prissy, sheltered little brat. But poisoning me, of all people? That’s ballsy. Even I wouldn’t have dared try something like that when I was your age. Keep that fire in your belly, kid, and you’ll go far.”

He gave her one last pat on the side, and with that, he was off, soon only a tiny black speck against the big, blue sky.

— — — — —

Later that evening, Celestia sat in bed sipping tea with a light smile, watching the sun set in the far distance. Even she, at times, was still impressed by its beauty.

The base of her horn was wrapped in a cast, enchanted to suppress her magical abilities so she doesn’t accidentally cast a spell and end up exacerbating the damage. Every so often, her horn would ache when she moved her head in the wrong way, like a sharp pin thrust into the very top of her skull, but it was overall manageable. While she healed, the Royal Magus Assembly of Unicorns would take over raising the sun and moon in her stead. She appreciated the vacation.

Behind her, her secretary poured over documents and agreements provided to her by griffon dignitaries soon after Galahad left. “I can’t believe how good these proposals are,” she reiterated, baffled. “Relaxed conditions on immigration from Equestria and certain import tariffs, expressed interest in becoming a member state of the Pax Equestriana Trade Organization. Hay, he’s even covering your medical bills. How did you ever pull that off? You parted on rather… unpleasant terms.”

“Oh, I can’t take the credit for it this time. It seemed to have been my lovely subjects who finally tipped the scales… not to mention my faithful student,” Celestia replied, taking another relaxed sip. In truth, she didn’t care about any of it. Griffonstone was, economically, a trifling ant compared to Equestria, but she still considered the redoubled interest in cooperation a nice gesture. “Strange as it may sound, I doubt we’d have gotten nearly this sort of deal had things not gone just the way they had.”

Her secretary sighed. “I suppose so. It set a terrible precedent, though, having him stroll in here and batter our princess. Shall we consider some sort of sanction? Call for him to stand trial, or be deposed?”

Celestia waved a hoof dismissively. “It’d be wiser to forgive and forget. Griffonstone doesn’t need to be destabilized any more than it already is, given the constant power vacuums. I get the feeling that his reign will last far longer than his predecessors. With any luck, he may be a force of stability,” she said. “Besides, in all fairness, I shoulder some of the blame here. I could’ve made it a little clearer that I wasn’t chasing him down to, you know, murder him. A miscalculation on my part, I confess.”

“Well, he could’ve sent an apology note or something, at least.”

Celestia shrugged. “I’m sure these generous terms are, partially, his form of apologizing. Some people simply prefer action over sentiment.” Her body was still sore all over from the battering she endured, but she almost took a weird pride in it. All’s well that ends well, after all — and she hoped, ideally, that the stubborn griffon had learned a valuable lesson during his stay in Equestria. Once she’d finally finished her tea, she slid out of bed. “Well, I’m feeling more than well enough to get around on my own again. I really should find Twilight.”

After the incident earlier today, Twilight’s was sent to the castle’s trauma counselor, but from what Celestia’s heard, this hasn’t helped terribly much. This was going to need a personal touch. She made her way to Twilight’s bedroom, peeking cautiously into the darkness within. “Twilight?” She called, flicking on the light.

Their eyes met simultaneously, and Twilight’s expression morphed into one of terror. The miserable-looking filly rushed to bow before the princess. “I just want to say… I’m so, so sorry!” She whimpered, her voice choking. It sounded like a line she’d been rehearsing, but she still tripped over her words. “I really messed everything all up. If you want to get rid of me… I understand.”

Just the sight pained Celestia’s heart. She leaned down, nuzzling the filly’s snout soothingly. “It is I who should be apologizing, Twilight. In a moment of anger, I said something that no foal should ever have to hear. It was inexcusable of me, and I’m dearly sorry,” she confessed. “I will never ‘get rid of’ you, Twilight. Everypony makes mistakes. But you will always be my faithful student, no matter what, okay? You don’t ever have to worry.”

Twilight blinked, as if in shock. “So… you’re not mad at me?”

Celestia raised her head, a warm, maternal little smile on her face. “For poisoning a foreign leader? Well, you’re still going to be grounded for a long, long time, alongside a hearty helping of community service. Of that, I can assure you. But no, I am not angry at you,” she replied. “But there is one thing I’m still wondering. What got you so preoccupied with those Con Mane novels, anyways?”

Twilight stared down at the floor, not daring to meet her gaze. “Because… you’re in them.” Celestia had to pause and consider this. I am? Con Mane was all about serving the Equestrian government, so she supposed it made sense. “Con Mane always impresses you in every book. He always makes you super happy. He saves you. He’s… useful.”

Celestia sighed as she realized what the filly didn’t have the words to say. She felt like a burden. “Oh, Twilight. You don’t have to try to be ‘useful’ to me,” she reassured her, gently lifting her chin with a hoof so she could look her in the eyes. “You know, nopony will ever believe this, but I’m not quite the morning pony everybody thinks I am. I get tired, too, and it starts making me wonder why I work myself so hard, day after day. But then I see that smiling face of yours, and it wakes me right up again. It reminds me of why I do all this in the first place. Playing games, teaching you, watching you learn and grow… it makes me truly happy, every day. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know, Twilight, just by being yourself.”

She looked up at her, her eyes wide, with the same sense of awe someone would feel first seeing the view from the summit of Mount Everhoof. She was still as a statue for a moment… before leaping forward, wrapping her little hooves as far around Celestia’s neck as she could reach, cuddling against her chest in a powerful hug! Celestia giggled. “Aaww. There, there, my faithful student. I shall always be here for you.” She walked the two of them over to Twilight’s bed, settling down upon the comfortable mattress while the filly wet her chest fluff with her tears. “There you go. Let it all out.”

“Why are… you being so… nice to me?” Twilight managed to choke out between her shuddering breaths as she cried. “I don’t… deserve it.”

Celestia rubbed over her back with her hoof, hugging her close. “You deserve the world, Twilight. You’re not only my student, but my friend, and I just know you’ll go on to do great things one day. You’ll make me so proud,” she spoke sincerely, “but until that day comes, your only job is to relax and enjoy your foalhood. You only get one, you know.” She cradled her, rocking her gently back and forth in her hooves until the filly had calmed down at last, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Speaking of which… while you’re grounded, you’re going to need something to read, right?”

“Wha?” Twilight looked surprised she’d even mention it. “I never want to touch another book again…”

Celestia raised a brow, a big grin on her face. “Are you sure about that?” She asked. “Because all it will take is a few strings pulled to get you a manuscript of the draft for the next entry in that little Con Mane series…”

Once again, Twilight looked up at her, jaw dropping, bug-eyed, trying to discern whether she was serious or not. “R-r-really!?” She gasped. “I mean… after everything that happened…?” Twilight’s concern was understandable, but in Celestia’s eyes, the books had never been the problem. In retrospect, she’d been gradually growing distant from the filly in recent months, almost neglectful at times. If she took anything away from this, it was that she couldn’t let work come before those whom she cares about.

“Sure, things did go a little overboard. Though that’s probably more due to poor supervision on my part,” she confessed. “but up until then, it made you so happy. And seeing you happy always makes me feel the same way. You should never feel ashamed of the things you enjoy. All you have to do is promise me you’ll never skip out on sleep again, okay? Sleep is very important. Without it, you start believing strange things — even hearing things.”

Twilight started hopping up and down in a way that made Celestia’s heart swell. “I promise! I promise!” She bounded forward again with excitement, once more wrapping her hooves tightly around the alicorn’s neck. “Oh, thank you, Celestia! You are the nicest pony ever, ever, ever!”

Celestia smiled, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. This was the sort of thing she lived for.“Oh, yes. I almost forgot. A guardsman found a little something while cleaning up the scene downtown.” Celestia left for a moment, before turning with that familiar grey doll clutched by the scruff with her teeth. The sight of Smarty Pants made Twilight’s heart leap, but luckily, it looked like his suit had disappeared, and she didn’t hear any hint of that terrible voice. Lacking her telekinesis, Celestia clumsily used her hooves to make the doll give a royal salute. “Agent Smarty Pants, ready for duty! Current mission: cozy bed time!”

Instead of laughing, Twilight shook her head. “No. I don’t think he’s gotta be Agent Smarty Pants anymore. Just good old… regular Smarty Pants…” She was cut off by another yawn, this time causing her head to tilt to the side, like there was an immense weight in her skull. She was more exhausted than she’d ever been, and she’d burned away the last of her adrenaline reserves. A dragon could be storming down the hallway towards her and Twilight still wouldn’t be physically able to will her body to move. Celestia smiled at this, knowing the poor filly would probably be out cold for the next dozen and a half hours at the very least.

“The point remains that it’s bedtime, my faithful student. Something you’ve been sorely needing,” she said, laying down and allowing Twilight to use her furry side as a pillow, resting Smarty Pants in the filly’s forehooves so she could hug him close.

For the first time in days, Twilight felt like she could truly relax, her eyes sliding gently shut. “Yeah… bedtime…”

She nuzzled her close, quietly humming her favorite old lullaby, the very same tune she used to sing to her little sister some uncountable decades in the past. It was the kind of lullaby mares sung their foals a millennium ago, with lyrics forgotten by all, even her; but it stood the test of time, slow and somber yet somehow deeply comforting in its pain, like some emotion that could never be put to words, only felt through song. The poor filly didn’t last so much as a minute before she was knocked out cold, sleep settling upon her like a warm blanket on a winter's day.

Celestia carefully extricated herself from beneath her, tucking the filly in and planting a motherly kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, my faithful student,” she whispered, backing towards the door.

She paused to savor the sight of that sweet little smile for just a few seconds longer, before finally flicking off the light.

The princess went to bed alone, beaten and bruised. But she was used to it. Every scheming villain, marauding warlord, malignant force of nature that intruded upon Equestrian soil — she was always their first target. Because she was a symbol. The beating heart of Equestria. The warmth beneath their hooves, the sunlight that illuminated their paths. She soaked up the blows so they wouldn't have to. It is said that, so long as the faith and trust of her people survives, so will she.