//------------------------------// // Proper Recognition (Morpheus) Part 4 // Story: dC/dt ≠ 0 // by I Thought I Was Toast //------------------------------// Alas, I’ve spent far too much time avoiding the meat of your inquiry. When you asked for details on the party, I can only assume you were interested in the arrival of our most esteemed guests. “Princess Celestia! Princess Luna! I almost thought you weren’t coming!” The taste of cotton candy exploded through the room as Pinkie spoke. “Did Kibitz hide the invitations again?” My blood froze as ve processed the presence of the diarchy of Equestria. They had regally walked into the store without guards, and Celestia’s mask was the image of serenity. Only the tiniest, microscopic, twitch to her lips suggested she wished her smile could widen a bit. Luna—in contrast—glowered imperiously at me. Her gaze softened slightly as she looked at everypony else, yet it hardened again without fail upon seeing me. “Hello, Pinkie Pie.” The rest of the room fell silent as the princess spoke. “Hello, everypony, everyling.” She nodded to all of us in turn. “I do hope we’re not interrupting.” “Twilight!” “Spike?!” The little dragon jumped— No. Leapt? He fairly flew through the door and across the room to sweep his caretaker into a hug, and I had to force myself not to wince at the crackling pops coming from Twilight’s joints. “S-Spike! W-what are you—" Twilight gave a gurgling squeak from a particularly affectionate squeeze. “We thought it best he return early,” Luna whispered with a voice of silent thunder—quiet, yet omnipresent, “especially as our sister insisted on sneaking out today.” For a moment, Luna’s glower shifted from me to her sister. Celestia, for her part, continued to serenely smile as her wing engulfed the Lunar Princess in something between a slap and a hug. “And aren’t you glad I did it sooner rather than later.” Celestia nodded towards Spike and Twilight as she maintained her chokehold on her sister. Luna’s facade broke momentarily as she watched the pair. “Perhaps, Tia, but our objections are based on your reasons for coming, not our own.” “Why are you here then, Princess?” I tilted my head back to look Celestia in the eye. “Ve doubt you came all this way for a simple welcome party.” “Oh, I came for the party—brought a gift and everything.” Her smile shifted without truly shifting, plaster becoming glass. “Why don’t ve believe that?” I arched my brow. Celestia chuckled. “Because I’ve been nothing short of hostile towards you so far, even with the concessions I’ve made.” The taste of wine—ancient with an old, dry, forgotten bitterness—washed over me. “From what Twilight’s told me, you’re beginning to understand why, though.” I frowned. “No clue in the slightest.” She blinked. “I… see…. I suppose I need to talk to both of you while I’m here then, but that is neither here nor there.” Ruffling her wings, she withdrew a scroll case from their expansive feathery folds. “Your gift—should you accept it—is an official offer of negotiations.” I took a step back, bracing ourself for the obvious catch to come, but none was forthcoming. Indeed, there was merely silence. Rarity fluttered her eyelashes in anticipation. Fluttershy had a small smile that was almost hidden by her mane. Rainbow and Applejack had their muzzles scrunched, but seemed to be withholding any lingering objections. Pinkie was grinning maniacally, trying desperately not to twitch, while Twilight was too busy returning Spike’s hug to notice. “Why now?” I asked as our thoughts buzzed with the drone of thousands of incoming messages telling us to take it. Someling—Hera, Webber, Spi, the other analysts scurrying about our web of probability—had spilled. Even the other lords were telling me to take it, although I knew they thought the same thing as me. This screamed trap. Celestia’s smile burned like the sun. “Twilight has given me some very detailed reports of your activities—all but begging me to grant you this as swiftly as possible. Really, you should be flattered. It’s not often Twilight calls me out on my mistakes so willingly.” I glanced at Twilight, then looked back to the scroll case before me. Reaching out, I tentatively grasped it and unlocked the seal with my magic. There was a hiss and several clicks as the case opened—suggesting the internal lock was far more complicated than the simple exterior suggested. Prying the cap off, I gently slid several pieces of parchment forth. I looked through them: both the official declaration of open negotiations and the more personal letter of apology that aforementioned negotiations had been delayed. Everything seemed in order as far as ve could tell, but that did not mean there was no trap. The bitterness to her emotions was old, however—decrepit and rotting. Her distrust was dead and nothing more than a corpse clutching feebly to the shore of a sea of wine amidst an arid wasteland. Such distrust gave me little pause in and of itself—dead as it was—but the sorrow and loneliness it clung to were of greater concern, preserving the corpse so that it might raise its sunbleached head from time to time. In all our previous meetings, I had sensed little to suggest such emotional turmoil, but Cadance had shown me that proper discipline would allow Celestia to hide her feelings. She was not doing so here. Her physical mask was as frustratingly serene as ever, yet she was being honest where it mattered. “V-ve don’t believe it.” I muttered in a poor attempt to maintain my image. The analysts were demanding real time updates, and the entire hive was no doubt watching. “Ve didn’t expect official negotiations for at least a couple months. Ve thought I’d need to beg for the concessions the hive needed.” “Yes, well, even at my worst you’ll find me surprisingly reasonable.” I snorted. “Perhaps I’d believe that more if you showed more than a plaster smile.” “Morpheus!” Twilight had broken from her hug to stare at me aghast, while everypony else gasped. Rarity fainted, and the Echo triplets quickly joined her—also summoning fainting couches as they shifted into her form. “Sister…” Luna growled. Her lips gave the faintest twitch of downwards movement. “He’s right, though, Luna.” Celestia sighed. “A mask is a mask is a mask is a mask, unless it is a mask.” Everyling—even Errant—tilted their head, ear tubes twitching. “Where did you hear that?” I asked. The Princess of the Sun smiled, and for a moment I thought my heart would drown in wine. “A friend of mine used to say it a long, long time ago—back before the changelings did nothing but hide in shadows.” She sighed once more. “Well, I suppose me and my sister have certainly held up the party long enough.” She bowed her head in apology to everypony else. “We weren’t really expecting so many changelings, and I can see we’re having quite the effect on you all, so—if you’ll just excuse us—I need to borrow Twilight and the Prince before we’re on our way.” She nodded to Luna. “Sister, if you would grab a slice of cake for me.” As Celestia trotted into the kitchen, I hesitated and looked to Twilight—who appeared torn about leaving Spike’s iron grip. Spike, in turn, squinted at me. Releasing one claw from its death grip on Twilight, he pointed to his eyes then back to me. Seeing this must have settled something for her, because after Twilight bit her lip and lowered her head to whisper something to him, she started towards the kitchen—Spike still firmly attached to her side. At the doorway, she pried Spike off of her, hugged him one more time, and trotted through the door. Following her lead, I, well, followed. Going through the door, I almost walked straight into Celestia. I was about to ask why she hadn’t moved farther in the room when my surroundings actually registered. The kitchen seemed small for such a busy bakery, but perhaps that was just the inordinate amount of cast iron ovens pressing in from all sides. The air wavered from heat—or perhaps that was delirium—and dozens of timers ticked and tocked. The ringing of several types of cuckoo clocks announced the beginning of a new hour one after the other. One particularly loud piece nearly had me jump out of my shell at the telltale shriek of a basilisk. “What is this—" I shuddered "—a kitchen or some form of demented crematory?” Twilight sighed. “The Cakes lost a bet and had to let Pinkie redesign the kitchen when they needed to upgrade.” “So they let her make the demon kitchen from Tartarus?” I snorted. Twilight tsked. “It’s really not that bad. The heat is just a byproduct of the extra ovens. Both would be here regardless of Pinkie.” “And the clocks?” I arched an eyebrow as the gravelly screech of a gargoyle clock filled the air. “I personally think it had to do with her reading Divine Comedy’s Divine Comedy, but most of the clocks aren’t really...” Her face scrunched trying to come up with the right word. Finally, she just shrugged. “It’s Pinkie Pie, though, so who can say. Also, haven’t you been in here to bake with her?” “Ve didn’t think it was real!” I rolled my eyes. “I was so drunk on joy at the time ve just assumed it to be a hallucination induced from working with the Pink Menace!” “She’s not a menace!” I took a step back at the spicy flames of anger mixed with those words, and the room suddenly became heated for a completely different reason. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like—" A cough from beside me ground my sentence to a halt. Somehow I had forgotten the giant white goddess looming over me. She had recovered her composure, and was looking at us with that hive-forsaken smile again, the one ve could never read whether it was real or it was fake. “Children, I do believe you both know better.” The smile widened slightly—perhaps that meant it was real. Real or not, that didn’t stop an emerald blush from blazing down the back of my neck. My ear tubes splayed back, and my wings whined. Twilight fared no better, although her wings ruffled rather than whine. “Sorry…” Twilight and I spoke simultaneously. Celestia lit her horn and the room was suddenly much more quiet and manageable. The heat was cozy rather than sweltering, and the incessant ticking of clocks and timers was almost non-existent—even if I strained my hearing. “There. Much better. Are you ready?” One could hear the eyebrow arch, although her face remained serene as ever. Twilight and I both nodded, putting on our serious masks. Pulling another scroll case—this one very small and nondescript—from her wings, she nodded to me. “In that case, here is a copy of your escape clause. It already has my signature. I couldn’t mention it before, but part of opening negotiations is freeing you from your Contract. Keep it safe, and add your own signature to it when you are alone in Twilight’s Castle tonight.” “Ve— Ve don’t know what to say.” My voice fractured, the echo of an echo strangely distorted in the Princess’ privacy bubble. I bowed my head respectfully, and hid the case in my corbiculae. “I am honored that you find me worthy of such trust.” Twilight’s mask was struggling to hold. Her body was tense at the announcement, as if trying not to jump on happy-hooves, and tingles of her pride crawled all over me. “It was never about trust, Prince Morpheus.” Celestia’s emotions pecked at me like a mother hen. “Honestly, I would have preferred tossing the contract in the first place, but you needed to understand just what you were trying to do.” “I told you that it would have been a mercy.” I frowned. “And you found out just how incorrect that philosophy was.” The princess’ breathing deepened in a barely perceivable manner, her nostrils flaring slightly as she took in more oxygen. Spicy embers of emotion sputtered, but did little more—quickly being drenched with more wine and lemonade. “There was never any reason to abandon all hope.” “You’re right.” I looked to the floor. “You were both right.” A purple wing wrapped around me, and I looked up to find Twilight’s serious mask was gone. She held her head high, looking regally at Celestia as if daring her to argue, yet kept breaking from the glare to look at me with warm eyes full of support. In that moment, she truly was the Princess of Friendship, and I envied how easy she made it seem. No. That was a lie. I was just jealous how she could play her part without consequences. If I showed this kind of concern back at the hive, the other lords would have seen it as weakness. Celestia, though, almost exploded with a pride that only barely touched her face. It felt as though lightning was arcing through the room, and the taste of ozone was strong as the elder diarch of Equestria—an ancient alicorn of uncountable years worth of wisdom—lowered her head in concession. “As you say, Twilight. Hence the reason we are dropping the Contract. In truth, I’m not sure I was entirely myself when I imposed it. I try to remain as impartial as possible but—" The taste of ancient wine and long dead bitterness returned as her voice hitched. "—but it is hard to not sometimes take things personally.” Her smile abandoned its serenity, becoming much more wistful. “That’s the other reason I’m here—to try and clear the air.” She looked at Twilight. “You asked me about Radiant Dawn in your reports, but I didn’t answer— couldn’t answer.” “It’s okay, Princess, you don’t have to—" Twilight started. “No, Twilight, I’m quite sure I do have to talk about this—if not for my sake, then for hers.” Celestia shook her head and sighed, turning her gaze to a changeling-themed clock I hadn’t noticed before. The ‘queen’ emitted harsh chiming chirps to signal the hour—the incredibly inaccurate hour—before retreating to her black chitinous hive. Several seconds passed as Celestia watched before the clock shimmered, suddenly hiding behind the illusion of an ordinary cuckoo clock. Still, the princess stared at the clock as if its quiet ticks and tocks revealed some untold secret only she could hear. When she finally spoke it was a whisper. “History doesn’t remember Radiant because very few ponies knew I had a daughter in the first place—nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t want her to be an irresistible target, so I ‘adopted’ her as a ward of the crown, and disguised her as a pegasus. With all the chaos caused by Discord at the time, she was just another casualty as far historians were ever concerned.” She closed her eyes and hummed in thought. “Luna and I were… content to remember her on our own. I won’t be so dramatic as to say I’m reminded of her every day when I raise the sun, but it happens on occasion, and I am thankful for it. Her eyes were the soft grey of dawn, you see, and her mane was the mish-mash of pinks clouds take on in the early light of day.” She sighed and yet managed to smile. “Sometimes the randomest things will dredge up my memories of her. Somepony laughing. A foal playing games. A pegasus playfully swooping through the air.” The smile became a frown, and she ruffled her wings before breaking her gaze from the clock to look at me. “Honestly, I should have known better than to hold a grudge for her passing, and I thought I stopped harboring one long ago. Radiant wouldn’t have wanted me to blame you.” She looked to the ground, ethereal mane hiding her face. “The wedding I could overlook—" A brief spark of anger said otherwise. "—because I knew something was wrong. I had gathered enough evidence over the years to know that your kind had survived, but that whatever happened all those years ago left scars. When you gave us that damnable Contract, though…” Twilight gave me an extra squeeze with her wing. I hadn’t realized she was still hugging me—paying attention to Celestia as I was. I looked at her, and she smiled reassuringly. “You need to understand I am not a perfect ruler.” My ear tubes flicked at Celestia’s deep, measured, breath, and I looked back to meet her gaze. “No matter how many millennia of experience I have, I still make mistakes. For the sake of Radiant and my former changeling friends, I held onto the hope that your people would heal, and my sister and I are not ones to give up hope that easily to begin with. That thing you gave us was the antithesis of everything we stand for—" the Princess of the Sun shuddered "—and I couldn’t help but get so very, very angry at the mere suggestion of what you wanted.” She bowed her head. “I am sorry for that.” I closed my eyes—haws included—so that ve could process what had the princess had said. Celestia Sol Invicta had just bared her heart for me. She had shown she was capable of weakness and vulnerability. A small part of us wanted to use that to our advantage—to guilt her—but I knew how that would turn out. “Princess, I...” I chewed my tongue as ve tried to find the words “...I accept the apology, but really don’t think it’s necessary. If anything, I should apologize to you.” There. Something civil and proper, yet compassionate. Her apology made, it was time to resume the game, and I made that clear with my response. It was for the best really. It wouldn’t do for her to dwell on unpleasant memories. Smiling sincerely for a moment, the Princess of the Sun donned her mask again—her smile serene, her emotions dulled. “It really isn’t necessary, but thank you.” Twilight looked between the two of us, eyes squinting. “Changelings.” She muttered as she withdrew her wing from around me. “Not sure why I bother trying sometimes.” Celestia chuckled at that, and Twilight froze. “Discord damn it all. I just accidentally called Celestia a changeling. Third Eye was right.” She giggled maniacally as she turned to leave. “Third Eye was right!” One could almost call her laugh a cackle as she trotted through the door back to the party. I stared on in bemusement as Celestia’s chuckles turned to giggles. Looking up at the princess, I licked my chops. “Has she ever cackled before, or is she just picking up my bad habits?” It’s odd really. Despite being in the exact same position myself, ve still found it hard to see the princess as anything more than a princess. Talking with Celestia that day, I started to see the pony she really is, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Regardless, the next day marked a turning point in my stay—not from anything I did, but rather from the riveting headline news to hit the papers.