//------------------------------// // Chapter 54 // Story: The Perilous Gestation of Swans // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// The day could not be any more exciting and tonight—tonight—was the night. For tonight would be Winter Moon Festival, Luna’s big night. Celestia could feel the electric tension in the air and she wanted her little sister’s big night to be just perfect. It had to be perfect, and it would be, because Gosling was overseeing everything, every aspect, every conceivable minute detail. Celestia knew from Lumina Loveletter that Gosling had pinned his own recovery from the blowout on this special night—so everything just had to go right. This tension, as delightful as it was, was almost unbearable. Celestia had the jitters, of course she did, because important royal functions often brought party crashers. Threats had been made, various sources of intelligence all stated that various efforts were in the works to disrupt or otherwise ruin Luna’s momentous return. Agitators from the Ascendancy were said to be lurking in Canterlot. Malcontents and dissidents were said to be planning a candlelight protest, which simply could not be allowed to happen, not tonight. And of course, there were those within the government who believed that Luna was unfit to wear the crown. These voices had to be silenced—at least for tonight. “We’re doubling the number of the Nightwatch on the streets tonight in Canterlot,” Kibitz said in a voice of calm assurance, just the voice that Celestia needed at the moment. “The rest of the Nightwatch will be in reserve, ready with, uh, party armor in the event that a random, unscheduled celebratory action breaks out and your little ponies get rowdy in the streets.” “I don’t want them hurt,” Celestia said while she turned to look Kibitz in the eye. “You speak of the agitators and potential protestors. If something should happen… if something does happen… I don’t want the Nightwatch cracking open skulls like party favours. Do whatever it takes to quell dissension and restore order, but I don’t want a bloodbath. Call in the Solars if necessary to pacify and render inert. They can do so with a minimum of casualties.” “Of course, Ma’am.” Kibitz sighed, a sad sound, and his ears pivoted backwards. “Ma’am, might I remind you, though I am hesitant to do so, that maybe… what we need is a convincing and thorough display of discipline and order—” “And on any other night, I might agree with you, but not tonight. Not on Luna’s special night. This night marks Luna’s return to the established pantheon of the First Tribes. I want this night to be remembered for all the right reasons… and not the night when a rebellion was ground to paste beneath the hooves of the city watch.” “Right, Ma’am.” Kibitz bowed his head and Raven, who stood nearby, let out a snort. Celestia already knew how Raven felt, and why she had snorted. Raven wanted to drop the pretense of order, and to establish actual order. The illusion of order and control was not enough. It was not enough to project and pretend that everything was fine, no. Raven had grown increasingly vocal that while gentleness and kind rule had its place, the Crown could also be firm. It was like a parent doing more than raising their voice with the threat of punishment, but saying nothing and moving on to the actual punishment itself. For Raven, sometimes, a sound, thorough spanking was absolutely necessary. “Oh, before we conclude, you have a friendship letter,” Raven said to Celestia. “Oh?” Celestia felt a curious eagerness, as she liked letters—they were the ideal medium of exchange for introverts. You could take time to think about what one said, ensuring each word was perfect and well thought out. Ah, so much could be done with words. “Uh, Gosling was given an assignment by his therapist, Lumina. To understand you better, he was told to approach you in a way that a commoner might approach you. He was told to try and see you in a different light, so that he might appreciate and understand you better. Lumina and Cadance both say this will aid in his recovery.” “So Gosling wrote me a friendship letter?” Celestia, sheepish, squirmed in her chair. “Well, a lot of ponies do,” Raven replied. “I mean, most of your students in your school have some means of correspondence with you. Twilight’s friendship letters have been turned into bestselling novels and friendship letters from past personal students are popular reads in the Royal Archives. This is kind of what you are known for.” At this, Celestia’s mouth went dry. “Oh. How pleasant. Shouldn’t the Princess of Friendship be known for friendship letters? How awkward.” “Do you wish to read it or shall I read it for you?” Raven asked, getting right down to brass tacks and shaking the letter in the air over her horn. “It has been a most dreadful morning, I do believe a good friendship letter reading is in order.” Celestia gave her trusted assistant a nod. “By all means, let us see what my current student has learned about friendship. No doubt, Gosling poured his heart and soul into this letter, so this should be sweet.” “Indeed, Ma’am.” Kibitz shuffled a little closer to Raven and a stiff, starchy smile lurked beneath his mustache. “We could do with a little bit of happiness after such a dreadful discussion. Gosling is always so warm and sincere, Ma’am. It’s refreshing to see such earnestness among the youth.” “Read me this letter before we adjourn.” Extending her wing, Celestia made a gesture at her assistant. “I am curious to see how Gosling might see me and address me as a commoner might through a friendship letter. Let us see what he has to say. Let us reward his effort and appreciate what he’s done.” “Right.” Raven levitated up her teacup, took a swallow, swished it around, and sent the teacup away. Adjusting her glasses, she broke the seal on the canary yellow envelope, pulled it open, and pulled out the bone white parchment folded up inside. The fussy little assistant made much ado about unfolding the letter and then peered at it through the bottoms of her eyeglasses. “Wow, Gosling actually wrote this and not Beans or Toast!” “Raven, my dear girl, sincerity.” Kibitz had a warm solemnity to his words and he spent several seconds clearing his throat. “The good prince is exceptional. Of course, he’s had a most excellent teacher.” “Kibitz, you have something on your nose. Something brown, by the looks of it.” Rolling his eyes, the old retainer scowled and stepped away from his counterpart. “Dear Princess Celestia,” Raven began, clearly speaking what were now timeless, oft-repeated words that were deeply ingrained in the collective consciousness of Equestrians everywhere. Pulling the letter away from her face, Raven smiled up at Celestia, and then her face vanished behind the paper once more. Just as Raven was getting started, terror crept over Celestia and she wondered if Gosling’s natural inclination for snark and sarcasm might manifest from the ink. Would he talk about secrets? Lies? The importance of honesty? The ghosts of friendship lessons of the past all began moaning in her head, and a cold, sweaty feeling left her wingpits feeling clammy. Gosling knew the weight of a word—it was his job after all—and she feared whatever words Raven was about to read. Guilt, terrible, terrific guilt, made Celestia’s heart sink and she squirmed like the world’s biggest foal in her chair. “Just like so many have before me, I am writing you a friendship letter,” Raven continued whilst Celestia wiggled in her seat. “I’ve learned a lot about friendship lately, the best and the worst aspects of it, but that is not the subject of this letter, so don’t you worry.” Did Gosling anticipate her guilty reaction? “No, the subject of this letter is about age.” A terrific lump formed in Celestia’s throat and her state of near panic almost left her sweaty. “Due to recent developments, I’ve made friends with ponies who are not my age. Little ponies. Foals. There are a number of them, but two in particular stand out; Moon Rose and Flurry Heart. In becoming their friend, I’ve had to grow as a pony. Being friends with a foal is quite different than being friends with somepony your own age. Foals, especially little ones, don’t communicate very well. They lack the means to express themselves. Because of this, I’ve learned that I have to really, really pay attention to them, I have to give them my undivided attention really, and I have to do this so I can better understand and anticipate their needs and desires.” Heart racing, Celestia sought some meaningful metaphors in the words. “Moon Rose and Flurry Heart trust me implicitly. This trust is a treasured thing, and due to recent events, I’ve learned how fragile and easily broken this trust is. I am one of the grown ups in their lives, a figure of mythical, or maybe worshipful love. They adore me and believe I can do no wrong, which makes me self-conscious about actual wrongdoing. In my dealings with them, I have learned to listen with great care, to pay more attention, and I’ve had to exercise my empathy so that I can act as the friend they believe me to be.” Upon reaching this point, Celestia could feel her innards crawling. “By learning how to cater to their special needs, by learning how to cultivate their trust, by learning how to be their friend, I’ve become a better friend to the adults around me. I listen more, at least I hope I do. I’m more attentive. I try to anticipate the needs of others. I am painfully aware of trust now, and how easily it can be broken. Flurry Heart and Moon Rose worship the ground I walk on, and believe me to be something better, something greater than I truly am. Because of this, they are vulnerable to me in ways that they might not be vulnerable to others. If I were to say, lie to them, or lose my temper, or be neglectful, I could really hurt them. Worse, I might damage their ability to trust and to make deep, personal connections with others.” Closing her eyes, Celestia went still and focused upon the sound of Raven’s voice. “I am blessed to be a part of their development as ponies, and everything I do now at this point in their lives will have long lasting effects upon them. I am their trusted uncle and I have an obligation to be the very best sort of pony I can be while they grow and develop. I guess this means I need to get my stuff together and sort out my own troubles, but that’s easier said than done. It is a process, I guess. For now, I am at the point in my life where I make a lot of mistakes and I do boneheaded things, but I don’t want to screw up being an uncle.” The weight on Celestia’s heart grew worse. Raven paused for a moment to rest her voice, and she looked away from the paper so that she might focus on something else for a time. Kibitz stood looking thoughtful, nodding his head, and Celestia, had she had her eyes open, would recognise his expression as one of approval, had she seen it. But alas, Celestia was lost in her own thoughts, her own worst fears come true, with Gosling having said everything that needed to be said through metaphor. He had undone her with pen, ink, and paper. Gosling, a young pony that was perhaps a little too worshipful, had trusted in her and her goodness implicitly, and she had done much to damage that trust. He might have very well put his own name in every mention of Moon Rose or Flurry Heart… and she… the wise, older pony, had been neglectful. The gentle rebuke in the form of a letter was the sum of all of her fears and she braced herself, knowing that this wasn’t over. From the sound of it, Gosling was only warming up, and had driven home certain points multiple times. She had most certainly impacted his future and might have damaged his potential. “Ahem”—Raven cleared her throat, took a sip of tea, and then continued—“A pony does themselves a great disservice if they only seek out friends their own age. My own life has been enriched by having foals as friends. I have gained valuable insights and some much coveted wisdom by developing these relationships. It has changed my perception of the world, because I am required to see the world through their eyes if I wish to be a better friend to them. It forcibly pulls me out of my own headspace, and with all of the practice that I’ve had to do because of them, my other friendships have benefitted.” “Such a good colt,” Kibitz said, making a gentle, polite interruption. “Such potential.” “Indeed,” Raven agreed. Shuffling papers around, she placed the first behind the second and her eyes darted to and fro when she began reading. “I would be remiss though if I spoke only of the foals in my life, for I have also made friends with the elderly, the very oldest of the old, and I have had my horizons broadened.” At this, Celestia’s eyelids flew open, fluttering like panicked butterflies in a hurricane. While Celestia’s pupils narrowed to fine pinpricks, Raven continued: “In some ways, making friends with the elderly is even harder than it is with foals. The trouble with the elderly, as I see it, is that they are stubborn, set in their ways, and might perhaps think that there is nothing new to learn, nothing new under the sun that they haven’t already seen. They expect and demand respect, due to being elders, and tend to believe that by virtue of age alone, their words have weight and credence.” Kibitz kept nodding, his mustache quivering, and his expression was one of intense thoughtfulness. “This is dangerous thinking. As a teenager, I sometimes get the idea that I too, know everything, but in my dealings with Moon Rose and Flurry Heart, I have discovered that I have much to learn. I’ve had to humble myself and admit to myself that if I take a knowitall approach with them, I am going to make mistakes. Being aware of this has changed how I deal with the elderly and I am currently doing what is necessary so that I might be a better friend to both the young and old alike.” Raven paused, turned her head, and glanced up at her contemporary. “Twilight should get a copy of this.” “Indubitably.” Kibitz nodded and his mustache wiggled like a hungry caterpillar. “There is a special old mare in my life, of indeterminable age, and the Canterlot Fire Department tells me I am forbidden from even attempting to cover her birthday cake with the appropriate number of candles for her age. They fear the ignition of a second sun, or the burning down of Canterlot. As such, I have been informed that any attempts towards this end will result in me being charged with domestic sabotage, arson, and a host of other charges.” Kibitz, unable to help himself, began snickering. “Trying to understand this elderly mare has made my life difficult. Honestly, she might be a touch senile, given how she speaks of hot, buttery ponies and has a skewed view on history. Listening to her stories leaves one disturbed, unsettled, and full of questions. Where you can be certain that a foal is just pretending or playing make-believe, it is quite difficult to discern what is real, what is fanciful, and what is a colourful yarn when dealing with those of advanced age.” Raven’s sides were heaving, but she somehow persisted. “Somehow, I will persevere; I will be a better pony for all of my trials and tribulations with the very young and the incredibly ancient. When dealing with them, I have committed myself to considering their needs before my own, and I do believe that my struggles will make me a better friend to ponies of all ages. With warmest sincerity, Gosling.” With the letter over, Raven lost her professional composure completely and gave herself over to giggling. Kibitz—old, wise Kibitz—leaned up against his younger counterpart and the two shared a moment of mirth together. Emotionally gutted, Celestia tried to figure out what it was that she was feeling, because there was too much to feel all at once. “Have Gosling brought to me at once,” Celestia said to her trusted assistants. “I wish to speak to him immediately.”