Therapy

by Broken Phalanx

Chapter 5: Irate

There are few things less wise than startling an Alicorn, and while Counsel had always prided himself on being a curious stallion, he was finding himself feverishly wishing to out of this entire situation. Retroactively, preferably, but at this point Counsel would’ve cheerfully settled for a new identity as a boat-maker in a desert country.

And, worse, he found himself desperately fighting the almost biological urge to kneel, grovel for forgiveness from the Alicorn for daring speak to her with such a lack of respect.

I may have very well discovered the depths of idiocy the pony mind can sink to by spelunking to them and drilling ever deeper, but I not going to spoil what little dignity I may have lef--My goodness, she looks rather worn. What sort of immortal has streaks of grey in their mane? Well, besides those who are normally grey, but that’s beside the point.

Worst of all were his own treacherous thoughts.

Twilight and Counsel stared at each other for a few seconds, almost measuring one another up, before Counsel finally squawked, “Coffee?” before clearing his throat and stating, far more calmly, “Would you like Coffee, Ms. Flicker? And feel free to take a seat; I’m . . . not quite sure why you’re wearing some sort of black jumpsuit, but would you want a towel?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed before she sighed and nodded.

And bags under the eyes, my goodness. That. . . probably isn’t the healthiest of indications; coffee for blood, energy bars for flesh, and hardened sugar for bones, Counsel thought as he fiddled with the coffee machine for a few moments, struck it a couple of times to get it working, and finally grinned, thinly, when the machine finally began to whirr with activity.

When he turned around, he found the princess had taken a seat and had been staring at him, boredom and a hint of irritation evident in her eyes; she had already managed to relocate the Book beside herself, and while she hadn’t already up and left, it looked as if she were only a few moments away from simply blinking away in a flash of magic.

There were more tells, Counsel realized as he bundled over a small towel; little details that would’ve been difficult to notice on Pegasi, Unicorns or Earth ponies conspired into an almost perfect storm for Alicorns. The horn flickering occasionally, as well as the occasional usage of unnecessary magic; the slight curling of the wing’s tips, and the rigidness of the feathers; the tap-tap-tapping of her hooves against the floor, and the shifting of her eyes; it was almost a relief after working with introverted foals that somepony would have such an honest subconscious.

“So,” Counsel finally said, when he finally realized Twilight wasn’t going to be the one to initiate conversation, “how do you want your coff-”

“One sugar, drop of cream.”

Okay, Princess or not, this sort of shit is getting real old.

A few seconds passed as Counsel poured the coffee, added the sugar and cream, and placed it in front of Twilight, who gazed at it as if it were nothing more than a necessary evil, before sipping it.

A few more seconds passed before she said, quietly, “Thank you.”

“It’s only a cup of coffee; no worries, Ms. Flicker.”

“I don’t think you need to keep calling me that.”

“I am nothing if not courteous; besides, the name on the check says Ms. Flicker.”

“Hmm.”

Perhaps half a minute passed in uttered silence, before Counsel finally asked with little fanfare, “Why are you here? You don’t like it, clearly, and I don’t exactly see many ponies that could strong-arm you into visiting my humble establishment.”

“A friend asked me. He was getting worried.”

“Your assistant?”

“Not anymore,” she muttered, her lips quirking upwards for a moment. “Just my friend, at this point.”

“Huh. Does that irritate you?”

“It’s part of growing up, letting go of those sorts of things,” she said. She paused, twisted her head to look straight at Counsel, and said, “Don’t read into that too much.”

“I never have,” he said, before asking with a sigh, “How is this going to work? Or rather, how do you want this to work?”

“I want to cease with these meetings.”

“Why?”

“It’s wasting my time, that’s why!”

Counsel breathed deeply to calm himself, prevent himself from retorting with some sort of outrage; it took him a moment to realize that he was calming himself by drinking in the smell of ash and, strangely enough, fish.

The seconds passed painfully.

We must make one Tartarus of a sight. On the left we’ve got an earth pony, covered in char and ash from book and paper. On the right, a slightly scaled, fishy smelling Alicorn princess of Books, Magic, and Friendship. Wait.

“Do you have many friends, Ms. Flicker?” Counsel finally asked.

“Of course,” Twilight replied. “There’s Spike-”

“Your baby brother, basically.”

“Yes, yes . . . Spike, Cadence. . . Luna . . .”

“Princess Celestia?”

“Well, I mean, yes, of course she is, but. . .”

“Takes up a different role in your eyes, eh?”

Twilight silently nodded.

“Anyone else? Prince Valiant or Prince Illusion? Princess Nidra? Err. . . Princess Clarity, if we’re going with the whole ‘marrying-into-royalty-makes-one-royalty’ humdrum? Mr. Turquoise Blitz?” Counsel asked, quietly thankful the newspaper stand a block away from his office had a print solely dedicated towards nob matters.

“Oh, they were my kid’s acquaintances. Or their relatives. It’d be strange if I decided to . . . strike up an unwarranted conversation with them.”

Counsel’s only reply for a few seconds was a sympathetic silence, before he finally murmured, “Do you want to be friends with them?”

A number of confusing expressions flitted across Twilights face for a moment before she finally said, “Well, I mean, absolutely. I mean, I am the Princess of Friendship.”

“Please, none of the stuff about titles here,” Counsel said. “All it does is clutter the issue. Do you, the pony, want them to be your friends?”

“It. . . wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Twilight replied, thoughtfully.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t, would it?” Counsel said wistfully, no longer really looking at Twilight.

Too young for the older, too old for the younger; that’s a story even I’ve endured before, alright. Of course, maybe it works differently with immortals? I mean, considering there’s no endpoint for their lives, I would imagine that age works in some other way for them.

“Is something the matter?” Twilight asked, her eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I’m just overcome with sentimentality,” Counsel lied with a chuckle. “When are you going to meet with them again?”

“In about. . . oh, Tartarus, about 5 minutes,” Twilight muttered under her breath.

“Perhaps you should talk with them? Maybe the feeling is mutual; I can’t recall a single pony who hasn’t wanted a family member they could reach out to,” Counsel said with a shrug, even as he internally winced.

Let’s wrap this up; this is starting to hit far too close to home.

Twilight gave a short laugh before she picked up her Book with magic, inclined her head, and asked, in what may or may not have been a parody of a morose tone, “Regular time, tomorrow?”

“Regular time, tomorrow. And this wasn’t a session; this was . . . a discussion. Or some-”

Twilight winked out of existence.

”-thing. Huh.”

I guess that’s that. Now, if only my legs would stop trembling with fear long enough for me to walk home, that’d be grand.

* * * * * * * * * *

It had been such a pleasant day, little more than two centuries ago; the air, crisp, the weather, warm, and the breeze had been divine. And the location! Before almost 60% of the Castle of Friendship had been converted into fortress, library, and laboratory, it had possessed a number of relaxed amenities; carpets atop the uncomfortable crystal flooring, a gym (as had been demanded by a certain brash Pegasus so many years ago), and a wine cellar; perhaps the only thing it lacked in its labyrinthine passages was an indoor cinema, and even that could be cobbled together in a few short hours if the need arose.

It was a shame that the company didn’t live up to the quality of their location.

Well, that wasn’t quite true; certainly, of the thirty or so fillies and colts that were present, at least five of the youngest ones had turned the castle into a pigsty, tearing tapestries that were worth minor fortunes and generally creating all sorts of havoc, but there was a sort of. . . genuine, childish wonder that could be associated with it, and perhaps even excuse the destruction. They weren’t trying to be little hellions; it was something that went along with being foals.

No, rather than the littlest ponies acting their age, it was the older ones, not quite yet stallions or mares, that seemed . . . off. They would cease in their private conversations when Twilight drew near, as if they didn’t want her to know about something; oh, they’d nod and act the part of dutiful great-great-great grandchildren, but something about them was making Twilight feel tense. For perhaps a moment, she considered a magical intrusion upon their conversation before she realized that a Pegasus mare (Socialight, both a mother to one of older colts and one of Twilight’s direct descendants) had been busily vying for her attention.

For a brief moment, as Twilight turned to face the Pegasus, she was certain that Blueblood had somehow found a way to come back from the dead; the tone managed to convey a sense of brashness from unwarranted entitlement, as well as the empty, pointless, pretentiousness that should’ve horrified most ponies within earshot. And worst of all, Twilight realized, was that this . . . individual . . . was technically related to her, and it showed; this pony was the spitting image of Velvet Sparkle herself.

“Oh, Grandmother, if it wasn’t too much of a bother, I wanted to discuss something with you,” Socialight murmured with a smile so slimy that it could’ve been used to maintain motor equipment. “Namely, it’s about Otiose; do you think you can put in a good word for him at some of the Canterlot schools?”

“Certainly, but I’m not exactly certain why my recommendation would matter,” Twilight replied, barely hiding her bewilderment. “A number of Canterlot schools, regardless of their level of education, pride themselves on admitting merit alone.”

What nature doesn't give, Canterlot University won't provide. And . . . I suppose if I’m going to be honest, little Otiose there is about as sharp as a spoon. He’s. . . just not that good at practical things. Or impractical yet useful tasks; I’m not exactly certain what you were expecting, though, naming your child Otiose, of all things. . .

“Of course, Grandmother, of course,” Socialight said with almost a purr. “However, still, if you could find the time . . . ?”

“I’ll see,” Twilight said with a smile, masterfully choking down some bile that had risen up in her throat; she needed to leave this pony, or she was going to say something that didn’t need to be on the front page of some newspaper.

Which of my kids was responsible for your creation? I’m honestly curious, if only because I almost wish I could retroactively tell the guilty party to have a gelding. You’re trying to wheedle favors out of me, and I’m supposed to appreciate the purring? I hated Rarity’s cat; thing was a menace. . . And you’re not my grandchild; they had better sense than you, by far.

Twilight carefully stalked over to the servant carrying the adult beverages, met eyes with the mare in question, smiled, and took a drink from the plate that was balanced on the serving-mare’s back.

Or rather, she would’ve, if the mare hadn’t carefully yet inconspicuously (to the partygoers at large, at least) skipped around Twilight’s magic; Twilight glanced quizzically at the mare for a moment, who’s only reply was to carefully shake her head and gesture as unobtrusively as possible to indicate the six or so empty wine glasses Twilight had already drained over the course of enduring this debacle of a reunion.

“Fine, fine,” Twilight grumbled, albeit good-naturedly. “Get a bottle of Applejack’s brew out of the cellars for after the party . . . and by that, I mean when everypony’s gone, not whatever after party this warrants; the stuff nowadays is barely palatable.”

Yes, yes, and the parties were brighter and better, the dresses were snazzier, the company was classier, and all that other nonsense, she thought to herself tiredly, as the serving-mare nodded wearily. That’s just nostalgia speaking; I’m sure it’s not that bad.

She grimaced a bit more when she heard something likely irreplaceable shatter in the background, as well as muffled, stilted, gasps; on a whim, she magically broadened her senses as she neared the scene of the incident, hoping vaguely that somepony would . . . at least be apologizing to one of the servants.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, she has dozens,” murmured . . . it sounded like Socialight talking with one of the other invited ponies, not that Twilight had honestly expected much from her. “Have you heard, though? Oh, of course not, Otiose is going to a Canterlot school.”

“Ah, you asked her?”

“Of course,” Socialight responded.

“Doesn’t he have poor grades?”

That’s one way of putting it.

“Oh, they’ll see the recommendation and let him in,” Socialight purred, the tone setting Twilights hair on end even from this magically extended distance. “It’s all about connections, deary.”

It took Twilight a moment to process what, exactly, she meant by this, and by that point her stomach had already gone queasy from the implications; it took a few seconds, however, as she stared into the assembled masses of what she had to technically call her scions, for the sheer disgust she had for the situation to truly hit her in full.

“I’m not talking with my family. I’m picking favorites among my subjects,” Twilight whispered to herself, the sheer shock of this revelation nearly driving her to her knees.

I’ve been aiding some of these . . . things . . . swindle more deserving ponies out of what they worked and fought for. How many bright little foals from poor families were halted from entry, just so some of these ones could get in? And because of something as shallow as me wanting to be a good grandparent? No . . . simply so they’d stop haranguing me and actually treat me like family?

“Out.”

It was a type of phrase none of the assembled ponies had ever heard before, excluding from some parental figure; not an askance, not some recommendation, but a flat demand. They turned as one towards Twilight, more curious than offended, though offence wasn’t far behind.

“Get out of my house. Now,” Twilight repeated, coldly.

“Now, now, Grandmother,” Socialight said soothingly, in a purr, “We’ll replace the glass if that’s-”

“It’s not about the stupid glass. You’re tone, your words. . . everything about you is so hollow, so, so shallow and needy that you don’t even see what a mockery of the education system, of self-improvement and self-evolution, you’ve made . . . and what’s worse, I’m an accomplice, because I was stupid enough to think I could somehow recapture what I once had,” Twilight said, her words cold, belying the wateriness that was growing in her eyes.

Twilight took a deep breath before finally finishing with, “I don’t want anyone of you here by the end of the hour, am I clear?”

Socialight’s eyes opened in shock before irritation took command of her brain and opened her mouth.

“The next words you’re planning on saying, I’d recommend you swallow. Speaking won’t end well for you, or your reputation,” Twilight tiredly said, cutting off the mare before she could start. “Out. Before I start charging you rent.”

It took a few minutes before the last of the ponies finally filed out of the doors, the adult ones muttering things darkly under their breath and the younger ones generally uncaring towards the entire situation as a whole.

Twilight, for her part, simply left for her quarters with as much dignity as she could muster, crawled into her bed, and hugged her pillow tightly.

By morning, her eyes had noticeably hardened, with only a few tear-stained sheets to indicate this hadn’t always been the case. Soon enough, though, even those were washed away.

* * * * * * * * * *

Twilight fizzled back into existence in her quarters, only to realize an instant too late that she had utterly forgotten to modify her teleportation for the return trip; for about a second, a number of Starbursts in various states of slumber rained around her, dragged along by her spell, only halted from sudden impact with the crystal floor by Twilight’s quick thinking.

Twilight sighed, even as she gently started depositing them onto the bed; this was going to take a few moments . . .

* * * * * * * * * *

“Let’s see how this falls apart this time,” Illusion said cheerfully as he neared the door, flanked by Claire and Nidra. He grimaced a bit when Claire shot him a look, only to continue stating, albeit with far less energy, “You’d have said something if you knew it wasn’t true, love.”

“She’s not that bad, Illusion,” Claire muttered. “Besides, this is just . . . I dunno, a phase for her or something.”

“Oh? Do Alicorns have a second puberty I should know about? Nidra, be a dear and inform us ignorant masses,” Illusion said with a chuckle.

There was an absolute silence as Nidra looked into space with a thousand yard stare.

“Nidra?” Claire asked, concerned. “Hey, you don’t need to be worrying about what happened last time-”

“I didn’t even know there were spells to force a lucid dream,” Nidra said, as if in a daze. “And then when I tried to talk to her, I got evicted. Even Mom couldn’t get me out of dreams when she was teaching me, unless she woke up.”

“If you’re concerned, I sure we could arrange for a carriage or something,” Claire said, gently.

“No, I want to visit here,” Nidra replied, perhaps a touch more forcefully than she intended.

“Why-” Claire started to ask, before a distinctly green shape emerged on the horizon.

“I believe we have our answer, ladies and gentlecolts,” Illusion barely managed to mutter between chuckles.

“Illusion . . .” Claire said, warningly, even as she internally agreed.

“What? She’s not embarrassed, just, ahem, aflutter,” Illusion said, gesturing at Nidra, who was already in her own little world having spotted Turquoise. “Claire, he always gave me funny looks when you and I started going together; it’s just in good fun.”

“Oh, I’m just ‘good fun’, am I?” Claire said, in mock-anger and mock-misunderstanding; she couldn’t, however, completely cover the playful smile that twitched across her face.

“Absolutely,” Illusion replied wryly, grinning, before cutting off his own banter with Claire to say, “T, down here, man!”

Turquoise had grown a bit more, but that wasn’t unexpected; the dragon linage ran a bit deeper in his blood than Clarity, and it had always shown; still, however, he was likely reaching his maximum size: unless the size growth from draconic greed was able to affect him, he’d probably only be about as tall as Celestia.

He touched down; it was by no means a heavy landing, but it still left small depressions in the grass.

“Illusion, Sis,” T said, before a short nod to Nidra, “Princess.”

There was a mostly awkward pause as T looked expectantly at Illusion, Claire, and Nidra; Illusion and Claire, however, awarded themselves the briefest of mental-facepalms even as Nidra’s burned a furious red.

“Valiant said he might be a couple of days late,” Turquoise finally said, unsure of what, exactly, was going on.

“He’s testing the waters,” Claire said.

“Smarter than the rest of us, that’s for sure,” Illusion added, cheekily, smiling even as it earned him a glare.

All four of them stood awkwardly at the portcullis, staring at the door in an emotional state approaching slight horror and dutiful resignation.

“So,” Claire finally muttered, “Ground rules. Nopony. . . nobody mentions anything about the Talon Scare, be careful when mentioning Starburst, and don’t break her wine-glasses. Oh, and don’t mess about with her-”

“I suspect we’ll be here for half a day if we go over everything we’re supposed to not do,” Illusion interjected cynically, before silencing when the doors slowly began to open.

The first thing they saw was a purple and green wall; the second, a set of sharp smiling teeth; third, and, finally, beyond all that, an overwhelmingly overjoyed dragon, which, honestly, is almost as terrifying to the lay-pony as an enraged one.

“Hey, kiddoes,” Spike rumbled, lips curled upwards. “Twilight is at a meeting, but she’ll be here soon enough. How are you all? Come in, come in!”

“Meeting? I was didn’t she had anything besides that speech planned,” Nidra replied, even as Claire and Turquoise embraced Spike. “Did something come up?”

“No, no, it wasn’t directly related to her domain,” Spike said, reassuringly, even as he pretended to not notice the bewildered expressions the younger generation had upon hearing that. “She has been branching out recently,” Spike added, almost defensively.

“What, like yoga or something?” Illusion asked, his face twisted with bafflement; it sounded absurd because it was absurd.

Spike hesitated for a moment before finally nodding and muttering, “Something like yoga, yeah. But enough about that; last I heard, the cooks are making something for us.”

* * * * * * * * * *

A great battle waged perhaps a room away, as part of Twilight’s brain feverishly tried to hurl out various suggestions as to why remaining introverted was the superior choice; it had come to the point where she was having to actively talk herself into acting.

I don’t have to do this, right? The ponies in the labs probably need help or something. . .

“Seriously? More excuses? Is this truly what I’ve come to?”

But it’s hard, and painful. You remember that first day in Ponyville?

“And if I had let fear rule me then, I’d never have had some of the best friends a pony could ask for.”

What about the relatives? Remember that? How do you know this won’t be a repeat of that?

“I don’t. But. . . they had Starburst’s trust, through thick and thin. They’ve done more than enough to earn mine.”

It hurts, though. . .

“So was having Nightlight and Starburst, and they were more than worth the pain. Even if. . .” here she faltered a bit, but continued regardless, “. . . even if she and I didn’t see eye to eye on all matters.”

I might regret this.

“Even so,” Twilight muttered, as she finally pushed open the door and greeted her guests.

It went surprisingly well, Twilight reflected, when she finally went to sleep that night.

* * * * * * * * * *

Bits of ash smeared across Counsel’s face as he stared, unblinkingly, at his office from across the street.

Or, rather, what was left of it; it’s twisted, incinerated remains were cordoned off by the usual yellow warning strips that followed arson. Here and there, a few fragments of flame tried to spark up, only to be immediately slain by the rain.

A small crowd had gathered, primarily reporters, yet there was still a sense that the police were now in control of the situation. The photographers, writers. . . entire crews had focused around the building, all of them asking the same question.

It wasn’t about who had set the fire. It was about something else; rather, had yet another princess been corrupted by the maniacal influences of these . . . psychologists?

Somepony must’ve seen her enter the building. . . At least they had the common decency to wait for me to leave for home before they set fire the place. Of course, then they left a paper-trail and a half, talking about . . . shit. Can’t say I’m . . . too surprised, really, considering the storm Dr. Husna managed to brew-up; same pony excitability that keeps us in business is what burns us, eventually. . .

This is all so fucking absurd.

Counsel, were he in his normal mental state, would’ve been livid; yes, he had been through a brief cursing phase when he had first seen the destruction, but at this point he had long since transcended anger. At this point, all he felt was that something very fragile in his chest had shattered.

Then, finally, Counsel’s unresponsive hooves trotted towards the wreckage, turned sharply towards the police pony that seemed to be in charge, and, amidst accusatory phrases spat from the masses of paparazzi at his back, Counsel said, painfully, “My office.”

“Sorry,” the Police-mare murmured softly; it was sympathetic, if not particularly deep, and Counsel felt a bit of the numbness and despair drain away.

Then the crowd almost mobbed him.

It all seemed like gibberish to Counsel (‘Mr. Counsel. . . Seriously? It’s not like I lost my medical license just because I lost an office’ murmured a surviving sardonic thought), with plenty of words like ‘tryst,’ ‘business,’ and, though he wasn’t certain if he imagined this one, ‘affair’.

He stared at them, an almost alien horde of dozens of eyes and hooves and pens, until they slowly silenced. He thought back to the early edition of the news he had managed to snatch up from the local paper-stand on the way to his office earlier today, which he nearly got a black-eye whilst paying for; to his stroll down the street, even as mothers and children carefully yet conspicuously trotted to the other side of the road to avoid even passing him by; to the almost ghoulish delight this multi-pony entity had in devouring those beset with bad luck, attacking even those who had the best intentions and just wanted to do their job and help ponies heal from past traumas.

“Have any of you ever tried to help a pony with your words?” Counsel finally muttered, in utter disgust. “Do you write letters to your family with those pens? Have any of you ever. . . written about joy, and happiness, and all the things that make life worth living, or is all this-” he waved indistinctly at the crowd, “-some sort of machine for misery? Would any of you tried to talk a distraught pony. . . distraught being from the edge, or would you just egg him or her on just to have a story?”

The briefest moment of silence followed this, before Counsel finally asked, in a tone more sad than anything else, “What’s the point?” before turning and walking home.

Author's Note:

Well, they're here, let's see how this works out, aye?

I also wanted to give thanks to everyone who's stuck through thus far with me, and quickly note, as we're approaching the half-way mark of this series, that I'm humbled by the kind support I've been given in the comment section, as well as the Likes and Favorites. Thank you all so much!

I'm hoping that any trust in me is starting to actually show itself to be in good faith, and that you all continue to enjoy this little tale.

Comments

[JBL]

Well, from the start, him taking on Twilight as a patient has brought him nothing but increasingly bad fortune. It's a wonder he hasn't snapped yet.

[Broken Phalanx]

5517352

Well, you know what they say; sometimes, bad things happen to good folks. Some might even wager especially to good people.

Be that as it may, perhaps he will lose it, and lose it hard, and the story will end in an asylum, with him talking to his own shadow as his own miseries swirl about him like a maelstrom of sorrow and malcontent as madness finally besets him for once and for all, his entire life nothing more than a wishful aspiration as the light of hope finally dies once and for all and darkness befalls the scene. . .

. . .

Naaaaahhhhhhh. . . But seriously, prolly not.

[Sethi]

I'm liking the caracterization, and the interactions, good chapter

[Broken Phalanx]

5535741

Thank you! I was really hoping everything was in-character for the longest time; there are another draft that, when I reviewed it, absolutely failed this test, and is currently resting in my recycle bin.

[SunnySidePony]

Half the story focused on boring ponies that were just added in with almost no explanation or introduction. I barely could pay attention to each pony's name and who is who because it went by so... brokenly paced, that it might as well have not been there at all. It's a serious issue. Perhaps ask someone to double check on how to fix it?

[Broken Phalanx]

5538857

Gotcha; I'll make an effort to fix pacing issues. Thanks for the advice!

EDIT: And, of course, make each pony more interesting; I'll make an effort to find someone to look over my work prior to publishing it.

[SunnySidePony]

5538877
Welcome!
If the grandchildren and the whole scene with them were a bit more revised and refined, it could be better in general IMO. I think there's a group on here that might be able to help you with it, some kind of editing group? The name escapes me. It might be a good idea to make a thread there.

[JBL]

Looking forward to the next update! *hint hint*

[Broken Phalanx]

5595294

Yeah, sorry for that. Been slogging through life stuff at the moment; it WILL update, I can guarantee that, but at the moment I can't really get to my standard computer. Sorry for the delay. Thanks for the enthusiasm, though.

[Worth Doing Write]

so gooooooooood me gustaaaaaaa

[Broken Phalanx]

5629948

Thanks for the praise!

[The Nightmare has Come]

This is a wonderful story. I hope to see more of it soon.