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> The Portal’s a beacon for hearts too fierce to fade. Griffons, yaks, buffalo, merponies, kirin—they’ve all crossed my bar, chasing love or a shadow to slip into. The Portal, on Ponyville’s edge, was one of the first to fling its doors wide for humans when others sneered. Now it’s a legend, where a mare might carry a human’s foal—always a filly, pure pony. Human colts are plenty; pony colts, rarer than a phoenix’s song. These rumors pack my place to the brim every night.
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> I’m Crimson Brew, earth pony, dark coat, gold mane, mixing drinks with a barbed quip and keener gaze. I’m pouring a whisky now—human export, sharp as a blade—my collar’s telekinesis keeping the bottle steady. Tonight, though, the bar’s dead. First time in thirty years, not from embargo or law, but… *hic* “Crimson, pass me another bottle of that Whiskas—whisky, whatever!” That’s Princess Celestia, our unconquered sun, slurring in a corner. We called it a “private luxury party” to save her dignity, but truth is, she’s drowning her heart. Poor Majesty. Let her tell you why she’s here, and why Equestria’s tearing at the seams.
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> I am Celestia, Princess of the Sun, and never have I felt so heavy. My hooves tremble, not from this human whisky—though it burns like dragonfire—but from the weight of my failure. That ambassador, that cunning human, deceived me. A document, dressed as protection for our mixed families, slipped through my trust. I signed, believing it would shield the bonds between ponies and humans. Instead, it unleashed a law: every human from nineteen to thirty-one, torn from Equestria, sent back to Earth. They targeted marriages first, ripping husbands from wives, leaving mares weeping in Ponyville’s streets—mares like that party pony whose spark’s gone dim.
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> My own guards, stallions of Equestria’s proud ranks, resist me. They see human males as rivals, unfair competition stealing their mares’ gazes, threatening their place in our herds. I’ve seen their glares, heard their murmurs—jealousy cloaked as duty. They enforce this wretched law with zeal, claiming it protects our kind, while I fight to undo it. I’ve stood before sobbing wives, promising to bring their humans back, but my words feel hollow. I failed them. I failed Equestria. The noble houses, those high-horned unicorns, nearly made it worse—a vile law to strip human stallions of rights, reducing them to breeding stock. I crushed their scheme, banished their leaders to the Crystal Mountains, but the damage lingers. My heart aches, and this whisky only dulls the edge. I will fight—diplomacy, decrees, whatever it takes—to right this wrong.
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> Crimson Brew here. Celestia’s fire’s dim, but there’s another watching from the shadows. Princess Luna, keeper of the night, carries a different storm. Her eyes burn, and her words cut deeper than any whisky. Let’s hear her side.
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> I am Luna, Princess of the Night, and my patience frays like a tattered star. This modern age vexes me—its softness, its endless debates. Once, Equestria knew order. A public lashing, a traitor’s shame displayed for all, kept dissent in check. I lament that such laws were struck from our books; nothing silences folly like a lesson carved in fear. Yet I know these times demand gentler hooves, and I struggle to bend. This human ambassador’s treachery, deceiving my sister with her false parchment, stirs my wrath. Her law, tearing human stallions from their mares, is a wound to Equestria’s heart.
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> Our own stallions, those prideful guards, betray us. They sneer at human males, calling them thieves of their mares, rivals who charm with exotic ways. They relish enforcing this law, tearing apart marriages first, as if to prove their dominance. I’ve seen the tears of mares—wives, lovers, mothers—begging for their humans. I’ve whispered to their dreams, promising justice, but my heart yearns for action. Diplomacy is Celestia’s path; mine is bolder. I’ve rallied loyal guards, sought loopholes in the portal’s laws, even considered… sterner measures. The noble who dared propose enslaving humans as breeding stock felt my wrath—she’ll not see Canterlot again. I will protect our ponies and their human kin, even if I must drag Equestria into the light of my moon to do it.
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> Crimson Brew here. The sun and moon are at war—not with each other, but with a world pulling apart. Celestia’s drowning in guilt, Luna’s itching for a fight, and Equestria’s mares are caught in the storm. Will the princesses turn this tide, or is the Portal’s heart breaking for good? You, my fine customers, will want to know. Come back tomorrow—Equestria’s not done yet. For now, raise a glass to the fight.
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To be continued.
by AT_123
by AT_123
by AT_123
by AT_123
by AT_123