Seven thousand two hundred ticks of the grandfather clock signalled the passing of the second hour, announced just a fraction of a second later by the merry chime. It did little to comfort Twilight Sparkle. In fact, it did quite the opposite: knowing that she had wasted almost two hours in a spare room – when she would have been enormously more productive at the library – with probably the most unpleasant, grating and otherwise irritating pony in Canterlot.
Prince Blueblood.
It had all started out so well, too.
Of all the royalty she knew, pony or otherwise, he was probably least deserving of any royal title, much less being let anywhere near government. In theory, he wielded as much power as Celestia or Luna, though blessedly only in theory. Every day, tabloids included articles on the latest of his activities or behavior, which was to say nothing of the actual news.
“No.”
“I thought I said–”
“You did,” Blueblood interrupted, his tone curt and his tight frown brokering no argument, “but that doesn’t change the fact it is wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.”
Trying her best to remain calm, Twilight Sparkle glared at him while wearing a strained smile. “Then what’s the problem? If it’s just a mistake–”
“The numbers look fine. The i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed, but that’s not the issue. I’m nothing less than stunned as to how you cannot see the larger picture.”
“Then please, tell me.”
He snorted his contempt. “It’s even more incredible that you only seek my approval now, considering you wouldn’t hear a word of advice since you first had the idea. Why is that? Afraid I’ll ruin it?”
Her scowl deepened; the thought had crossed her mind. “Just tell me. I’m not in the mood for this.”
The chair scraped against the floor as Blueblood stood. “If you had wanted to know my thoughts, you should have asked for them sooner. I have neither the time nor the will to sit around waiting for you to make up your mind.” He walked for the door, paying no heed to Twilight’s further protests. ”Good day to you Princess.”
But despite his intent, Twilight wasn’t prepared to let him go. She had done too much work, looked up too much information, just to be told she would have to wait. She teleported in front of him with a bright purple flash, barring the exit. If being polite earned her nothing, perhaps a plea would work.
“Blueblood, I know you are busy, and I know you have other things you have to do, but for the love of harmony, please... Just give me a couple of words, or something I could look to improve.”
Blueblood studied her impassively for a moment. “Funny you should speak of harmony.” He sighed, and rubbed at his brow. “Very well, let me see it again for a moment.”
With a smile, Twilight passed him the paper.
“Start over.”
The sound of the papers ripping in half, then into quarters was like a knife into Twilight’s heart. She gaped as the pieces fluttered to the floor, not even noticing Blueblood stepping around her, nor the door closing behind him. It took a half minute before she finally found her voice, then she vented her frustrations in one long scream.
→ ↔ ←
Contrary to what most ponies believed, Princess Celestia did not have what could be called a regular schedule. Regular would imply that there was some semblance of order; some pattern to the day. In truth, her schedule was little more than an utter mess, barely cobbled together into a manageable order. For a while, Celestia had even entertained the idea that Discord had personally engineered her schedule to get back at her, if only to dull the boredom of the endless meetings and ribbon-cuttings.
Despite all of this, there was one exception to the schedule; one thing which was unusually different, which is to say normal. Everyday from twelve to one, Celestia had an hour to herself. Not an hour of time where she might be called upon to give a little extra help, but an hour only to be broken by true emergencies. Over the many years she had ruled Equestria, the hour had come to be known by many names: lunch, tea time, cake consumption, reading hour, or, in one particularly trying decade, happy hour.
What it was, regardless of the name, was simply a chance for Celestia to unwind. It did not matter if it was over a piece of cake, a cup of tea, or a beaker of gryphonic whiskey. All that mattered was the chance for rest and relaxation. Today, she had brought out the old haggard teapot which had been an anonymous gift from several hundred years prior. Years of practice had given her a good eye as she tapped a few tea leaves in: just the right amount. Boiling water came next, surrounding the leaves with scalding heat to draw forth their flavour.
A sound twinkled in one ear as she waited for the tea to steep. Despite the designer’s insistence, her room was only nearly soundproof, not entirely so. Celestia dismissed the noise as nothing more than the castle staff – harmony knew they didn’t need her to start complaining – but was forced to take back her opinion when the door slammed open, and Twilight stormed in.
Frazzled hair? Check.
Scowl? Check.
Agitated short steps? Check.
Celestia sighed as she finished her evaluation. Twilight had been taking on many new duties as a princess, and it finally seemed as if one had gotten to her. The heads of two Royal Guards poked around the doorframe wearing sympathetic expressions. One of them even mouthed an apology. Celestia gestured gently that it was fine. The door closed, leaving Celestia alone with the ranting Twilight.
Just as in her younger days, her former student had an interesting temper. Twilight was quite tolerant most of the time, but when she reached her limit, or something prodded her the wrong way, she tended to explode a little more violently than most. Experience had taught Celestia just to let Twilight unload, regardless of whether she listened or not, then ask her questions. Anything else was like throwing leaves at a hurricane to stop it. So, instead,Celestia brought out another teacup and reached for the tea.
“Are you even listening to me!” Twilight snapped, finally realizing her audience of one was paying more attention to pouring a drink than the faults of a thrice addled pig headed idiot.
“Perhaps, but perhaps not. Do you remember if you knocked?” Celestia countered.
It took a second for her mind to catch up with the question, then Twilight blushed.“No, I didn’t,” she admitted meekly.
Celestia took a sip of her tea and offered the other to Twilight. “Than why don’t we start from the beginning again now that you have gotten it all out of your system. Sugar?”
“Yes please.”
“Cinnamon too?”
Of all of Twilight’s weaknesses, none were more potent than cinnamon with her tea. She knew it too. “Yes...” Twilight said with a huff.
By the time they spoke again, they had drained the dainty tea cups twice. “What had you so worked up earlier Twilight?”
The young alicorn held up the five sheets of torn paper as though they were explanation enough. Celestia had only started to lean in for a look at what they said before Twilight yanked them away.
“Blueblood tore it up!” Twilight exclaimed. “He tore it up and told me to start over.
Celestia sighed, giving her head a little shake. “Twilight, he tore up what?”
Twilight let her take the pages, digging the edge of her hoof into the ground as she explained what happened. Years of ruling had left Celestia a fast reader, though she still examined them close enough not to miss of the fine details, half listening to Twilight. When she had read the end, Celestia looked up at Twilight. “Now in your own words, describe this education reform.”
“You see, princess–”
“Just Celestia,” she interrupted with a motherly smile. Old habits died hard.
“Anyway, I started thinking about this idea a while ago in Ponyville. I’ve been tutoring a few foals there in a variety of topics.”
“Mhmm,” Celestia hummed into her tea. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders, was it?”
Twilight nodded. “Sweetie Belle in particular needed some help with her magic, and I’m happy to say she’s made significant progress on that front. But the thing is, at the time I thought it was just her... I mean, not to belittle her, but Rarity isn’t exactly the best teacher.” She paused, frowned, then shook her head quickly.”No, that’s not it. It’s just that Rarity is sort of... Oh, what's the word.”
“It’s alright, I understand.”
“I thought it was just Sweetie Belle who was magically underdeveloped for her age, but it’s almost all young unicorns in Ponyville. I know Cheerilee tries her best, but she has neither the time nor the resources to instruct them on even the basics. But it doesn’t stop there. I took it one step further and checked all the towns in the area. Do you have any idea how many meet the average?” There was no pause to let Celestia answer. “None. Every town or village I checked was chronically far below the national standard.”
“And you thought to propose a bill to fix the issue.”
“Precisely, I...”
A raised hoof stopped her. “I have no doubt the math and finances work out, but what did Blueblood have to say?”
“Well... That’s just it. He barely said anything, only that I was missing the larger picture and I’d have to wait to hear the explanation later.” Twilight took another sip of her tea. “I tried to press him for an answer, and then he went and tore my work into pieces!”
Celestia looked down at the tea leaves swirling at the bottom of her cup. “I see.”
Twilight mistook the answer for something it wasn’t. “It was completely irresponsible and out of place for him to do that! If he–”
“Twilight.”
Just a single word calmly spoken was enough to stop her.
“Twilight,” Celestia repeated. “If I may offer a piece of advice, understand that Blueblood is not secure just because of his station. Many others seek his support deceptively, try to subvert his wishes, or attempt to manipulate him, just as you will eventually experience. Despite his faults, however, he is extraordinarily talented politician and is somewhat of an expert of ushering through difficult bills.”
“But that still doesn’t explain why he tore up my work?”
“I have two theories.” She paused. “Well, three actually.”
Silence.
“Well?” Twilight asked.
“Do you really want to hear them?”
“Of course.”
She pursed her lips. “Firstly, Blueblood was returning the same kindness you showed to him.”
“Celestia!” Twilight protested. “How are we even remotely comparable?”
“If I am to be completely honest, Twilight, you did nothing more than waste his time.”
“No I–”
“Didn’t?” Celestia finished. “Twilight, by your own admission you hardly spoke a word to him for two hours, and virtually nothing if you discount the first and last few minutes. I can hardly approve of what he did, but why he did it is another matter altogether.”
Twilight sighed and rustled her wings. Though she loathed to admit it, what Celestia said was true. “So what is the second one.”
“He wants the lip service, and he knows that without his support, you might not be able to muster the votes to pass the bill.”
“But it’s a bill for educational reform. A good one.”
“It’s nothing to do with the bill,” she interrupted. “You are new to government, and ponies will be looking to play on that. You will get some support, but unless your idea was truly revolutionary, you will need to convince ponies to vote for it. Managing to secure Blueblood’s support would guarantee a good portion of that vote.”
“The third?”
“Oh. Blueblood has been replaced by a changeling aligned with Discord seeking to impair every aspect of the government–”
“Princess...”
“– to allow for the influx of whales to overtake our land thanks to snowmelt from the shift in the orbit of the moon.” Through it all, Celestia maintained a steady expression as if she were discussing the weather, daring Twilight to challenge what she had claimed.
Twilight fought a losing battle to suppress the smile at the absurdity of it. “I get it, Celestia. I just...” She sighed. “Why did you have to ask Blueblood to help me? Couldn’t you have found time later this week, or... Or anything?”
“I know you wanted my help, but sometimes that isn’t how things work out. He just has a little more flexibility with his schedule right now, that’s all.”
“What should I do then?”
“It takes a strong pony to take a stand for what they believe in, but it takes a stronger pony to try and cross the fence to mend the rift.” She tapped her chin. “Why don’t you think of this as a test.”
Twilight studied Celestia’s usual soft smile carefully, then scowled. “I’m beginning to think this whole thing was always supposed to be a test.”
In a look of which Twilight had come to hate, Celestia cocked her head innocently. “Was it?”
→ ↔ ←
It was a small blessing that Blueblood had not shredded her pages, but merely torn them. Mending spells were difficult enough even at the best of times. While it was somewhat straightforward to urge a vase back together when the shards all formed the original shape like a puzzle, paper was not. Paper fibres were not nearly as rigid or constrained, and forcing them to return to their previous position more often than not tended to make things much worse. It had taken gluing the pieces to a sheet of card, like some first grade art project, before Twilight felt comfortable using the spell.
Exactly ten minutes early, she arrived at the room where she and Blueblood had worked the day before. Each page of her proposal was laid out before her as she combed over the details, looking for the slightest problem which he would undoubtedly criticize. To her dismay, twice she caught small mistakes, incorrectly copied numbers, and later on – derived from the same values – a calculated sum.
But all in all, it added up to less than a tenth of a percent of the total cost.
It just didn’t make sense.
Everytime she went through her work, Twilight came back to the same conclusion: it worked great, fantastic even. She just could not see what had prompted Blueblood to tear it up. So a little traitorous voice at the back of her mind started to tell her that Celestia might be right. He could have done it simply because she had slighted him. And as much as she loathed to admit it, she had. Were their positions reversed, she definitely would have taken offence.
When the door finally opened, Twilight shot to her hooves, an apology already forming on her lips.
“Blueblood, I–” She cut herself off when she saw who was at the door.
“Pardon me, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” the courteous voice started, “but I’m afraid Blueblood will be delayed today.” Onyx Chalice, one of the castle’s butlers, dipped his head in a polite greeting.
Twilight sighed, falling back down in her seat. “Oh, I see.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, it is rare to see a pony eager to meet Canterlot’s finest Prince.”
“He’s the only...” she trailed off as her mind caught the emphasis.
He kept a perfect straight face.“Well, I am not wrong in claiming that then, am I?”
Twilight hid her giggle behind a hoof. “It’s nice to see you again, Onyx.”
While he was not the head butler, Onyx was certainly among the most senior of them. He had been well into his twentieth year when Celestia had first accepted Twilight as her student. With a talent for handling young unicorns, particularly ones with enormous raw talent, Twilight had come to know him over the years quite well.
The black earth pony’s composure broke as he grinned. “The pleasure is all mine, Twilight. I could hardly miss the chance to see what my favourite cookie thief has gotten up to while I haven’t been around.”
She groaned. “Onyx...” It was a long running joke between them. A very long, very embarrassing joke.
“But what type was it again, oatmeal chocolate chip?” He tapped his chin. “No. It was peanut butter white chocolate chip cookies. Care for me to bring some up?”
“No.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a packed napkin. The smell was incredible. “Then you won’t mind if I–”
With a bright purple flash, the napkin found itself in Twilight’s hoof. “If you’re just going to tease me about it then I’ll...” she trailed off as she realized the napkin was empty.
Onyx held out the cookie on a silver platter. “For you, Twilight.” Even now, she never could follow his sleight of hoof. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“A different prince?”
He laughed: a rich sound. “I’m afraid that is a little outside my duties. Though, if it’s a prince charming you're after, I could see about bringing him up.”
She felt her cheeks heat up as Onyx waggled his bushy eyebrows. He knew. She didn’t know how, but he knew.
“While I would love to stay and catch up, I hear you have quite a few stories to tell, but I’m afraid I still have rounds to complete. A foreign dignitary is arriving a little ahead of schedule and his room isn’t ready.”
Though her smile waned, the warmth didn’t leave her eyes. “It’s okay, I understand.”
He turned back at the door and nodded. “Princess.” Then he was gone.
Twilight turned back to the desk in better spirits than she had entered the room with. After half a minute, about the same amount of time it took to eat the cookie, she flipped forward a few pages and started to write. What started as a few words between lines sprung anew onto a fresh page, then another. The minutes passed quickly as she found a comfortable pace. By the time the door opened again, she had four pages. Not an entirely new idea, but certainly a revised copy.
“I do apologize for my tardiness,” Blueblood said, setting down his bag on the desk. “The receptionist misplaced my order and she had to make a special trip. How that mare keeps her job I do not know.”
Twilight tried her best to ignore his scorn; Sweet Hooves was lovely mare who didn’t deserve even a word of it. “Blueblood, I want to apologize for how I acted yesterday.”
He paused from unpacking his back, but didn’t turn. “Oh?”
The back at her mind started to nag about his tone, but she quashed it before it could grow. “When I work, sometimes I get a little caught up in it all, but I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason.”
“Then would you care to explain to me why?”
Her ears folded back. “Just... The rumours, things I hear from ponies, my friends.”
“It is easy to form opinions from gossip without taking the time to determine just why those opinions are so. To keep them in mind, yes, but to believe it to be true is another. It is the mark of unrefined rabble.”
She ignored the thinly veiled insult. “So will you tell me why you tore up my work yesterday?”
The frown was slight, but it was still a frown. “I suppose I did, didn’t I. You could say I was suitable annoyed that you didn’t live up to the praise others spoke of you.” Twilight opened her mouth. “Though I suppose you have made amends for some of your actions.” He fell silent. “Very well. You may accompany me today on my rounds.”
“I’m... Pardon?”
“Oh, you think I just had free time yesterday? I delayed several meetings with dignitaries because Auntie asked me to help you.”
“I don’t see how–”
“Two hours of your time should be enough, just how you wasted two of mine.”
Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but seeing his expression, decided against it. “If that’s what it takes, fine. But I want your opinion on the education reform later on.”
“Then, it would seem we are in agreement.”