Forgath was enjoying a relaxing morning in the Tower of Despair. He had awoken with the sun, completed his morning contemplation and ablution, and breakfast had arrived just on time. He sat at the dining table with a book and ate, listening with a little smile for the sounds of his daughters rousing themselves and beginning their own routines. He knew that a certain pink filly had not gone to bed on time last night, and was curious to see just how late she would make herself.
The answer, as it turned out, was about fifteen minutes.
Forgath chuckled to himself upon hearing a dismayed squeak from her room, followed by frantic hoofsteps and the start of what would be a very short shower. Fillies would be fillies, he supposed. He was no stranger to late nights and sleep lost to study, but he also knew that she would learn the value of sleep better this way. Or setting an alarm - wondrous things could be done with clockwork these days.
His thoughts became nostalgic as he made his way through his eggs and toast; he realized that alarm clocks weren't tremendously new, but he still couldn't help but think of them that way. Perhaps it was a sign that he was growing old? He was on his second millennium after all...
Such thoughts were distracting, so much so that when his eldest daughter came (metaphorically) flying out of her bedroom, dressed and ready to go, he almost made a terrible mistake. She skidded her way up to the table with her blonde mane fluttering, gobbled up a few bites of eggs, and snatched up a slice of toast in her mouth to eat on the way; the moment it was secure she bolted for the door with little more than a muffled "Hi Dad! Bye Dad!" which got a hum in reply. But that's when he noticed it.
"Tourmaline Trillion Torque, exactly what are you wearing?"
The pink pony froze before the door at the use of her full name, faster than any ice spell could manage. She slowly turned towards him, smiling what she hoped was an innocent smile as she transferred her toast to a hoof to speak. "Um...a skirt and a blouse? It's no big deal, really."
"Mmmhm. And what sort of skirt is it, exactly?" A pair of heavy arms crossed over a chain-clad chest.
"A...plaid one?"
"Exactly! Lin, what happened to the black skirt I got you for your birthday?"
"Daaad, no one's wearing black right now; it's going out of style!"
"Blasphemy. Black never goes out of style."
"I'm sure you think so, but plaid is in right now; it's bright and peppy."
"'Bright and peppy' is not proper for a dark lady. And besides, that skirt is far too short of a filly of your age."
"But Dad, this is what everyone else is wearing right now! There's even talk about making it a school uniform, like what they have in Canterlot!"
"Not on my watch! That's absolutely inappropriate for a secondary-school uniform. And are those pleats?"
"So what? Lots of skirts have pleats. And it's called middle-school." She turned slightly, as if hoping to move the skirt out of view.
"Cheerleader skirts have pleats, not respectable skirts. No, you're going to have to go change."
"W-what? But I'm probably already going to be late! And...and besides, this is fine!"
"You have an image to uphold, and that is not it."
"Well maybe I don't want that image; I want to fit in!"
"But you used to love it! Remember a few years ago, when you dressed in black all the time? Practiced your laugh? Started calling yourself "Schorl"? You even darkened your mane. It was so cu-...villainous and threatening; quite becoming for a young lady." He heaved a little nostalgic sigh, getting a frown from her in the process. "You were taking after me so closely; you hung on my every word. What happened to all that?"
"It was just a phase, Dad."
"It doesn't have to be."
"Some of us want to grow up."
"Some of us grew up a long time ago. Now go change."
"Uuuugh! I can't believe this..." She made her way back to her room with much grumbling and toast-munching. It warmed Forgath's heart to see, and he smiled to himself as he turned back to his reading.
Before she could return, her younger sister made her own way out and over to the table with a wide yawn. Sitting down and joining her father, she began to eat. She looked better than she had been the last few days; a childhood pox had swept through the ranks of her second grade class and she still sported little red blisters all across the skin of her wings, but at least she could fold them comfortably this morning. Hopefully, it would make its way out of her system in another week, and until then Forgath could take the opportunity to dote on her. After all, it was quite clear that he wouldn't have such opportunities forever.
He gave her enough time to stop looking quite so bleary-eyed - orange juice worked wonders for waking up thestrals - before setting aside his reading and giving her a warm smile. "Morning, sweetie."
"Morning, Daddy." Still groggy, but at least speaking.
"Are you feeling alright?"
A nod, and her wings spread and refolded. "Mmmmhm. They don't itch anymore. Can I go back to school?"
"No, not while you're still contagious; it will be another week or so."
"Awwww....but I'm gonna miss Stiletto's birthday party." A sad little hoof pushed a sad little fork across her plate.
"It's unfortunate, but you don't want to get her sick as a birthday gift, do you?"
"....No."
"Don't worry; we can send your friend a gift for the party, that way she'll know you didn't forget her."
"Okay."
Before Forgath could say more, a grumbling pink pony made her way through the room and towards the door on stomping hooves, now clad in a long black skirt (though having retained her white blouse). "I'm leaving."
"Have a good day, s-" A slam cut off whatever pet name he was going to use; out the door and galloping away she went, hoping she wouldn't be late.
Silence reigned for a few moments, before the little foal gave her father a surprisingly flat look. "You know she's got her plaid skirt in her saddlebag, right?"
"Probably."
"You're gonna let her get away with it?"
"She's at that rebellious time; it's good she gets it out of her system now."
"That's dumb. She's bein' dumb."
"As you will be when you get to her age."
"Nuh-uh!"
Forgath chuckled, reaching over to playfully ruffle her mane and ears, getting an indignant squeak and a pout from his daughter. She ducked back, brushing blue-green hair out of her eyes as she fixed him with as fierce a puffy-cheeked glare as she could manage.
"Finish your breakfast, Shady, and then we'll play. I'll teach you chess."
The thestral continued to pout, mumbling through a bite of eggs, "Already know how to play chess...."
"I'll teach you to beat your sister at chess."
Little ears perked with temptation, but soon flattened again. "Mmmph. Chess is booooring. Can we play something else?"
"What would you like to play?" Forgath replaced the ribbon in his book and shut it, rising to collect the plates and placing them upon the tray to be returned to the kitchens by a servant.
"Hungry Hungry Hydra!"
Forgath held back a sigh. He did not like that game. "Alright; go on and get it."
She let loose a "Yaaay!" and off she ran to the chest of games.
He shook his head with a smile; at least she was starting to feel better, that's what really mattered. For that, he could endure an annoyingly clattery game or two.