> You are royal guard Steel Bulwark, and goddess be damned, you will not fall asleep on this sortie!
> You did not survive years of academy training under the scorching sun, brave thunderous hailstorms in the north and face the endless hordes of the changeling scourge, only to fail to fail in this most important of task.
> You did not march through veritable libraries of books on the finer theories on magical defence and offense, only to let your wits fail you now.
> You will not…!
> The low, but clear sound of your helmet gritting against your right armoured pauldron all but kicks you back into the world of the awake, your head jerking back into the official stance.
> Stealing a quick glance around the room, it appears as if none had heard the grating sound. On the other side of the entrance door, your sister in arms, Sharp Point looks over with a questioning look on her brows.
> Softly shaking your head in reply to the unspoken question, she too returns to looking stoically at the scenery in front of you.
> A monumental oaken table stands in its centre, eating up most of the space available. Its deep brown oiled façade bears witness to its long life of service as the birthplace of nearly all modern-age Equestrian treaties.
> Silver candlesticks illuminate the oaken surface, as it stands covered in a sea of scrolls, regulations, law books and scripts.
> The table’s inhabitants are just as imposing.  Sitting at the table are none than the celestial sisters themselves. Your liege, Princess Celestia, ever the diplomat, sits with a patient, but strained expression on her face, her ethereal mane all but a touch unkempt. No doubt due to the shear length these processions has dragged on.
> Her sister, Princess Luna, sits to her right. While her sister remains the picture of patience, the goddess of night has no such restrictions. Idly drumming her hoof on the table, she spins a large crystal glass filled with red wine, watching the liquid cascade in random patterns inside.
> Across the table, sits the source of your rulers frustration. Studying the latest iteration of a potential treaty, King Grover of Griffinstone, Queen Matilda of the Minotaurian queendom and lastly, Queen Yuna of Yakyakistan grumbles and sighs, as they separately work their way through the intricate cursive.
> It was Princess Celestias idea to have them all gathered at the same time, to speed up the diplomatic process. Hopefully, her plan of ensuring no wars would break out would be much more easier to accomplish, if she could only have them all see reason.
> Sadly, fate would not smile upon them for the time being.
> “I will never accept these cowardly conditions, pony!” queen Matilda said blatantly, throwing the papers to the floor. “Labyrinthia will never give up the Valley of Green Acres, and certainly not to the yaks!”
> Rising from her seat to all but butt heads with the towering heifer, queen Yuna discarded her piece of paper with the same frivolity. “Yaks will never bow before those who will not respect Yaks most gracious conditions.”
> Meanwhile, King Grover shrugged his shoulders in defeat, casting a sidelong glance to the royal sisters, all but begging them for a rewrite. Celestia sighs deeply, her golden wisps of mana reaching for the stack of plant parchment.
> The lady of the night was not as collected as her sister. Her grasp of the wine bottle was flickering in her magical grasp, as her frustrations with her current predicament translated into the high-pitched sound of glass creaking.
> Her right eye, bloodshot and sparkling with self-righteous anger twitched as she silently watched the two queens lock horns.
> It really seemed like this meeting would drag into the late hours of evening, you thought to yourself.
> Oh Faust, what you wouldn’t give for a-
> A soft knocking echoes gently through the passage behind you.
> Furrowing your brow, you cast a look behind you, Sharp mirroring your moves on the other side. The whole castle were under strict orders not to disturb the meeting, in the event of a diplomatic crisis erupting. Only in the most dire of situations would an interruption be called for.
> Quickly casting your head back, it appeared as if none of the other occupants had sensed the noise. Princess Celestia was busy scribbling, Princess Luna appeared to be contemplating chewing her hoof off from sheer frustration, and King Grover was massaging the top of his beak, eyes closed.
> The other occupants had begun comparing teat size.
> Nodding to your sister in arms, you both turn to face the door, spears within comfortable reach. You carefully heave the door open, its well-oiled hinges give naught a sound, as you take heed not to create noise.
> Starring into the hallway, the afternoon sun casts soft rays of light through the occasional glass face, softly reflecting in the marble walls and floor.
> Empty.
> The hallway stood as still as you had left it so many hours earlier. You take in a heave of breath to question if Sharp had not heard the same knock as you had, just as a delicate voice faux coughed from the hallway.
> Your voice caught in the back of your throat, as you cast your head downwards.
> Standing in front of your armoured chest piece was the form of none other than the royal prince of the Sun.
> Prince Anonymous, the first of his name, stood dutifully barely reaching up to your barrel, smiling up at you. A large plate of softly steaming chocolate cookies was balanced carefully between his awkwardly sized wings. Despite his young age, the prince already had the wingspan of a young adult Pegasus.
> A small puff of flour on his left cheek contrasting his healthy green colour palette had evidently escaped his attempts of cleaning.
> “Hiya, miss guardspony,” his voice called with a hint of childish respect, as his eyes gleamed with the barely withheld restraint of innocent anticipation.
“Y-Your highness,” you quickly greet, as the two of you bow before the young alicorn, “forgive me, my lord, but what brings up here?”
> The green colt’s brows furrowed, as he recollected what appeared to be a memory from earlier in the day.
> “Mom told me she and auntie had to do a boring meeting today, so I made some cookies to make them happy,” he said, smile broadening as he reached the end of his practiced speech.
> Blinking, you turn to look at Sharp at a loss for what to do.
> “I don’t think that’s…”, Sharp begins, jerking her ears back indicating the other occupants.
“Not at the meeting,” you begin, directed for the prince, “perhaps another time, your hi-“
> Closing his eyes and leaning his head a little, the prince continues.
> “I insisht,” he slurs slightly with foalish determination as he puffs up his chest.
“You insist?”, you find yourself asking nopony in particular.
> “Steel, we really can’t ha-“, Sharp interjects, shaking her head.
“The lord insists,” you declare poignantly, stepping aside, dragging your huffing colleague with you.
> “Thank you, miss guardsponies,” the prince calls back as he makes his way past you and your fellow guardsmare, trotting into the sacred meeting room, head held high.
> A few steps from the doorway, the prince very carefully summons up his own mana. Tongue sticking out in concentration, he brings the platter in front of him, and continues unabated.
> The sight of the small colt has a near immediate effect on the room’s other inhabitants.
> The two queens seize their quarrelling, looking on in bewildered silence as the unknown newcomer skips by the table.
> The sound of the of the two queens noise coming to a halt draws the attention of King Grover, the griffon’s beak breaking into a good hearted smirk at the sight of a silver plate floating by, followed by a small green horn, the table largely obstructing his view.
> Princess Luna’s entire demeanour changes entirely. Her gloomy mane swirls to life, as cascades of stars flow glimmering through the shifting strands, and her eyes shine like a full moon. Sitting up straighter, she waves a hoof in greeting.
> Nodding back in return, the prince stops by his mother’s side, and carefully grab a mouthful of the solar princess’ primary feathers.
> Tugging lightly so as to not pull out anyone of them accidentally, he mumbles out a muffled “Hei mum”.
> Stalwart guardsmare that you are, you are quite sure you can feel your blood sugar levels.
> Blinking owlishly, princess Celestia looks up from her writing, turning to look at the insistent tugging on her wing.
> While the lunar princess looks had shifted, the solar princess radiance outshone it entirely.
> Like an early spring sun kissing the landscape after a long and dark winter, her motherly smile illuminated the entire room. Her mane, formerly a poor resemblance of its usual splendour, roared to life as waves of multifaceted lights reflected across the silverware.
> “Hello, my little alpenglow,” she greets in return, a soft hoof frog caressing the mane of the centre of her world.
> Letting go of her feathers, the colt stands tall at the attention, a prideful smirk on his lips.
> “I made cookies for you and auntie and your friends,” he declares, the silver plate rising up a few inches in his magical grip.
> Cooing softly, Celestia carefully picks up one with her own magic, and bite into it.
> “You are a real sweetheart to think of your family, Anonymous,” she says, humming in delight. “These are very delicious. Did you make them all by yourself?”
> Nodding in confirmation, the young prince begins making his way around the table. “Yup yup! Miss Flourpot helped me a little with the oven, but I followed the recipe all by myself”, he declared, as he levitated the plate over to offer his aunt a piece of bakery.
> Graciously accepting the offer, Luna levitates a cookie for herself. “Thou art a most compassionate young stallion, dearest nephew,” she says, as she too takes a dainty bite.
> Smiling at her praise, the young prince continues, stopping by the next occupant.
> “Hello, mister king,” he greets, bowing his head respectfully. As his head leans forward, so to does the platter
> The griffonian king blinks in apparent surprise, prodding up the platter before any of the remaining cookies can fall off.
> “You know who I am?” King Grover asks, a hint of surprise sneaking into his voice, as he too accepts a cookie.
> Nodding his head excitedly – and tipping the plate back and forth in tandem – the prince continues.
> “Yes, mister king. You are King Grover, the king of the griffons,” he recalls. “You were behind the great reunio-, reunify-, the great…”
> “Reunification of the griffons?” the griffon offers.
> Nodding again in confirmation, Anonymous continues. “Yes! The reunionfication of the griffons. Mom made me read a lot of boring books about that.”
> An awkward cough escapes the solar princess, as she covers up her mouth with a hoof.
> King Grover throws his head back, roaring with laughter. “Oh you will grow to be a fine prince someday, indeed, young Anonymous,” the griffon says, nodding in thanks for the sweet.
> Finally arriving at the far end of the table, the young alicorn stands dutifully before the pair, his small size dwarfed by the two queens.
> “Hello miss Queen Matilda. Hello miss Queen Yuna,” the prince greets.
> Looking down at the colt, the two queens hesitate. Looking at one another with barely withheld contempt, they each wait for the other to make a move first.
> The sound of Celestia softly clearing her throat tear their attention from their opposition. At the other end of the table, the solar princess’ mane flares briefly.
> The temperature in the room rise near instantly a hoof full of degrees, as the shine of the normally rainbow-hued mane takes on a more golden colouration.
> Frantically, the two foreign regents look back down at the offered plate, quickly accepting the offered goods. Humming in joined approval, the two of them nod enthusiastically down at the royal colt.
“Most delicious, young lord,” Queen Matilda erupts.
“Yes, yes, most fantastic,” Queen Yuna supplements.
> Beaming up at the two, and seemingly happy with the results of his labour, the young prince turns towards the door, the now empty platter balanced between his wings.
> Quickly opening the door beforehoof, you and Sharp salute the prince.
> “Bye mom, bye auntie, bye mom’s friends,” he says, waving a hoof back at the ensemble, as he exits out the passageway.
> Softly closing the door behind him, you and your partner return to your positions.
> Sighing good heartedly, Celestia turns back to the table, her magic wrapped around a new set of official documents.
> “I do hope you will find the new revision more acceptable, your highnesses,” she says. “With inspiration from the endless generosity of my colt, I have even included the addition of the royal recipe for chocolate chip cookies.”