I trotted happily down the hall towards the throne room. I was a mess—paint all over me, though I had cleaned my hooves—but I was in a good mood. I held my gift in my mouth: a painting, for Mommy.
I had hoof-painted it myself: a green mountain, a smudgy yellow sun, and our palace outlined in black. Me and Mommy along the bottom. And, on the front, I had carefully traced my name in red: C.C. Age 5.
(I knew how to say my name, but spelling it was hard)
As I approached the throne room, my heart sunk. The doors were closed, with guards standing outside. And I could hear voices. That meant that Mommy was busy. Maybe she had some important visitors.
But, then again—she was my Mommy. And that meant she loved me. And always had time for me, no matter what. She’d send whoever it was away and put me on her lap and hug me tight. She’d done it before.
I trotted up to the doors, then lit my horn and turned the handle.
“Whoa, Milady,” said one of the guards, putting out his arm. “You can’t go in—”
But I smiled my cutest smile at him, and, while he was distracted, pulled open the door. I darted inside before he could grab me.
The throne room was bright in the morning sun. This door stood behind the Throne itself, so I could see the back of Mommy’s head. And, in front of her, all the ponies waiting to see her.
They were holding dresses. And little cakes. And one or two musical instruments. That meant it was almost time for the Gala again.
Suddenly, my tummy started to feel all funny.
But—I remembered—I had a present for Mommy. And she always liked my presents. So that would make me feel better.
Head held high, I trotted towards Mommy, and—
“Hey, Sunshine,” someone said, as they picked me up around the middle. “What are you doin’ in here, huh?”
I almost screamed—but I knew that voice. I looked up to see a pair of warm, brown eyes behind a pair of glasses.
“Raven!” I cried, almost dropping my painting.
I liked Raven. She was Mommy’s secretary. She was old—like, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old, even. But she was nice.
She pulled a hankie from somewhere, then wiped at the streak of red paint across my nose. I giggled.
“Got another painting for Mommy,” I said. I lit my horn, then held it up for her.
“Lemme see,” she said eagerly. She examined it for a moment, then turned to me with a smile. “So…” she said, “that’s you. But—is that me?” she asked, pointing at Mommy.
“No,” I giggled. “That’s Mommy, silly Raven.”
She squinted at the painting. “You’re right,” she said. “I am silly.”
She stopped walking. I looked up; I hadn’t even realized we were moving. We were standing back out in the hall. I frowned. My tummy felt all funny again.
Raven put me down, then crouched down so she could look me in the eye. I looked away.
“That’s a very pretty painting, Milady,” she said. “And I’m sure your mom will love it. Why don’t you give it to her tonight?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to give it to her now,” I said. “I mean…”
I stopped talking. I felt like I was going to cry.
Raven frowned. “What’s going on, Sunshine?” she asked.
“I… I was thinking…” I sniffled, “that… That maybe she could… could give it to her doctor. To put on the wall.”
Raven cocked her head. “But… she’s not going to see a doctor today,” she said.
“Not now,” I said. “But she’s sick so much, and…”
And I was afraid that, next time she had to see the doctor, that I might not have time to make a painting for her before she left. But I knew that, if she hung my painting up next to her bed in the hospital, it would make her happy to see it. And, if she was happy, then maybe… maybe she’d get better, faster.
That was what I felt on the inside. But I didn’t know if I could say all that. Not without crying.
Raven’s look softened. She reached up and brushed a hair out of my face. “That’s very sweet of you, Sunshine,” she said. “But she’s not going to go see a doctor today. I know that for sure,” she said, smiling. “It’s not on her schedule. And she has a lot of other ponies to talk to, besides. Lots of important ponies. And, though I know she wants to, I don’t think she’ll be able to see you just now.”
My tummy felt even more funny. I knew she was right—but wasn’t I important, too? Not even important enough for five minutes?
Raven smiled a little, then put her hoof under my chin and lifted my gaze.
“Listen,” she said, “If you’re a good little filly this afternoon, and do everything your foalsitter says, and put on a bright smile, I’ll make sure your mom will have a few minutes for you before you go to bed. I’ll put it on the schedule and everything.”
“Promise?” I sniffled.
“Promise,” she said.
Somewhere, in the back of my brain, I knew that something about this exchange was deeply wrong. That a great injustice was being inflicted on me, and that I was being asked to consent to it.
All I wanted was five minutes. To get a hug, and to see her smile, and to give her something that I just knew was going to make her all better. And I was being told that Mommy didn’t have the time for it. For me. But, if I asked nicely and did my very best to earn it, Raven would pencil her in for a fifteen-minute chat over coffee, at seven-forty-five, sandwiched between her dress fitting and a review of the menu, just like any other pony off the streets.
Somewhere, I knew all this—felt, in my bones, that it was wrong. But I didn’t have the words to express it—even the words to understand the concept—so it came out as a funny, twisty feeling in my tummy, and the threatening tantrum that I knew was coming.
But Raven was smiling. She was trying so hard. And I wasn’t about to say no to time alone with Mommy. So, instead, I nodded.
Raven sighed, then smiled. She ruffled my mane a little. “That’s my Sunshine,” she said. “Now, go be a good filly, and go on back to your room. Okay?”
“Okay,” I muttered. I turned and plodded back down the hall, back where I had come from.
* * *
Late that night, I lay on the couch in our suite. I was still clutching at my painting. It had got all sweaty from how long I’d been holding it. But I knew Mommy would still love it. She always loved my paintings…
...but… I’d been waiting so long…
My eyelids started to droop.
...just a few more minutes, and Mommy would be here…
Dimly, I heard the clip-clopping of hooves coming closer. That must be Mommy now… she’d pick me up and carry me to bed, and then I’d get to talk to her, all by myself, just like I wanted...
I heard the rustling of paper—and then, someone snatched my painting out of my grasp. My eyes flew open.
“Blue-bloooooood!” I howled. “Give it back!”
I leapt from the couch and charged after him, but he just pranced away, holding my painting over his head in his magic, laughing at me over his shoulder.
I chased him through the Palace, but he was too fast. I skidded to a halt in one of the big hallways and stood there, my chest heaving, for a while.
Eventually, I looked around. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was anymore. As my gaze swept the hall, I noticed a tall grandfather clock standing between two suits of armor. And, suddenly, the bottom fell out of my stomach.
I didn’t know how to tell time yet. That’s what school was for. But I knew that, when the little hand was pointing at the eight, that it was time for bed.
The little hand was already on the eight. Just past it, actually.
I swallowed. Mommy wasn’t coming to see me. I knew Raven had told her about me—she liked me enough to do it, and I trusted her—but here it was, past my bedtime, and Mommy hadn’t come to see me.
I turned and walked down the hallway, looking for a landmark, or a pony who could lead me back to my room, trying to keep the tears from coming.
I shouldn’t be surprised, I thought to myself. I mean, it’s not even the first time she’s done this…
And it won’t be the last, either.