LI
Spoiler Warning
LI
Spoiler Warning
There are magics in this strange, terrible, and wonderful world of ours that defy the academic understanding of horns and glowing lights. Things like the warmth of a spouse or a child against your side. The physical tingle of love in their touch. The impossible strength of friends working together on an unachievable task and triumphing anyway.
When my eyes snapped open, I knew it wasn’t because of any of those unreliable, esoteric magics. My eyes snapped open, staring up at the roof of a four-post bed beneath a white plaster ceiling, because I am an unbridled legend who has laughed in the face of death so many times in my numerous lives that death itself considers me something of a bully, and retreats with its tail between its legs.
That particular morning was the first such laugh, when it was still new, and novel, and the feelings were so strange that I had to lift up my hooves and stare at them for a long quiet moment in wonder.
Or, at least, I stared at one of them. A bear cub was sleeping on top of the other. That certainly explained the tingling.
It did not explain the pain. It wasn’t enormous, like having most of one’s neck ripped out by metal claws, but it sat just beneath my skin everywhere, throbbing like a migraine that somepony had stretched out through my entire body. And beneath those throbs of pain, I could feel a sore tingling that grew worse whenever I moved, like I had somehow sunburned my internal organs.
Was I undead, now? My understanding was that most undead had no responses in their nerves. I pondered that as I turned my pale fur back and forth in front of my eyes. I hadn’t turned gray, which was a good sign. The gouge taken out of my fetlock had been closed as well, which would have been something of a waste of resources for a walking corpse. I might have stitched such a wound closed, but I would not have bothered spending the magic to heal it.
“Ah. You are awake.”
The voice that spoke to me was soft, tinged with a faint accent I didn’t recognize. I tilted my head up to see a tan pegasus watching me with a raised brow. She wore a sort of white cloth headdress, and a necklace of faintly glowing green stone adorned her neck.
“Do I know you?” I asked. “Or rather, should I?”
She chuckled. It was a pleasant laugh. I had to admit, she was a beautiful mare. Perhaps ten years my elder, though with pegasi, it can be hard to judge aging. Unlike literally every other member of the race I’d met in my travels, she certainly didn’t seemed scarred or jaded enough to be a soldier, or even the child of a soldier.
“Somnambula,” she said with a smile.
I cocked a brow. “I’ve been sleepwalking? I certainly hope I haven’t invaded your home.”
“No, no,” she shook her head. “That is my name, Morty.”
“Ah.” After a paused, I nodded. “I should make a support group. Side Effect would fit right in.”
The pegasus, Somnambula, frowned ever so subtly. “Meadowbrook said you might be disoriented. It seems they were right.” She’d spoken those words more to herself than me, though they were plainly audible. She spoke up a touch more as she looked me square in the eyes, drawing attention to her curious makeup. “I am a friend of Star Swirl. He summoned us to help him deal with a monster from his past, but by the time my friends and I arrived here in Everfree, we found that some strange young colt had already solved the problem.”
“Ah.” I bit my cheek briefly, then nodded. “So Wintershimmer is dead? The plan worked?”
“Wintershimmer is in the dungeons beneath us,” Somnambula clarified. “Please forgive me, but I should go. My friends and I have been taking shifts watching you, but Star Swirl and Meadowbrook were insistent that I fetch them if you awoke.”
As she rose and walked across the small room for the tall doors, I called out. “You mean ‘when’, right?”
Somnambula shook her head as she stepped away. “We only had hope.”
That was troubling.
In the silence of the room, less Graargh’s subtle snoring, I shifted my weight as gently as I could to look around more fully. Almost immediately, from the size of the furniture as much as its familiarity, I recognized Celestia’s bedchamber. On a bedside table, a substantial pile of scrolls and delectable flowers had been assembled. Outside, the sun was shining, and a warm breeze blew into the room, teasing the gossamer white curtains Celestia had hanging around her window.
I realized, very suddenly, that I was very hungry. And wanting for any other source of food, I turned to one of the flowers on the nightstand. A rose stood out as an excellent snack, with pink tips on otherwise orange-tinged petals.
When I lit my horn, even for the faintest of bursts of telekinesis, I very nearly passed out from the pain. It took all my discipline to force that sudden agony down into a muffled hiss and a shudder.
On my shoulder, Graaargh stirred. His cavernous ursine maw stretched wide open in a yawn, and only when it was done did his eyes open, blinking in the light.
When that motion stopped, he just stared at me for a very few long seconds.
“Hey, kid.”
“MORTY!” Graargh screamed, wrapping all his legs around me and squeezing my belly in the most painful hug I have ever had the displeasure of enduring. I screamed completely unrestrained, and even that only won me a slight reprieve in the strength of the cub’s bear hug. “Graargh happy! Morty back! Morty alive!”
“You too—” I hissed out. “Let go!”
“Graargh not let go! Graargh not let Morty go again!”
“Hurting… me…”
Graargh finally released me at that, and I gasped for breath as a few tears of pain leaked down my muzzle. “Never ever leave,” Graargh informed me. “Morty be safe now. Morty make Graargh worry big. Cry lots. Not like. Graargh afraid.” As he said these words, Graargh nuzzled into my shoulder, trying apparently to burrow his way between my leg and my chest. I lifted the limb to make way, and the cub somewhat violently forced his way under the sheets to snuggle into my fur. “Not leave again. Not die.”
“I’ll do what I can, Graargh,” I told him, panting for breath.
“Why Morty say Morty die, if do spell not die? Why lie?”
“If do spell not… oh.” With the hoof not wrapped around Graargh, I massaged my temple. “Yes, I’m sorry I had to say that. But I wasn’t actually lying.”
“Not lie?” Graargh asked. “But Morty live. Morty here.”
“Yes, I am,” I told him. “But I didn’t know that my trick would work.” I wasn’t sure my trick had yet, but I thought it better not to bring up that philosophical point with Graargh just yet. “And more important than that, I absolutely had to make Wintershimmer think I was going to die. If he thought i still had a plan up my sleeve, and that he hadn’t totally beaten me, he might have kept his guard up for Gale.” I swallowed at that thought. “I am assuming that Gale was the one who actually beat him, right?”
Graargh nodded enthusiastically. “Gale cut off horn with sword. She mad.” Graargh glanced at the door, then dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “Graargh not like Gale mad. Mad Gale scary.”
“Well, hopefully we can keep her happy from now on.” I ran a hoof through the fur on his scalp. “I’m hoping there won’t be a need for us to go running all around the known world all the time, now that this whole mess is taken care of.”
No longer worried about waking the bear, I rolled over and snatched the rose of my desires. I wish I could tell you dramatically that it was the most delectable, rewarding flower I had ever tasted. Alas, I would be lying. It was a country rose. Perfectly tasty, but nothing to write elaborate purple prose about.
A few petals into the snack, the door to Celestia’s bedroom opened with the jingling of bells. I looked up as Star Swirl the Bearded walked into the chamber, followed closely by an ongoing procession of wizards. Diadem followed Star Swirl, both looking none the worse for the wear of their adventures. After them came an absolutely withered elderly gray-pink unicorn mare with a freakishly long curved horn. She wore a tattered, faded solid teal dress… thing that I silently hoped to never have to smell. Then Clover the Clever, somewhat more presentable for the lack of volcanic ash stains on her coat and robes, strode into the bedroom. After her came a much younger pink unicorn, this one with purple mane decorated by teal highlights, and a sort of swooshy shooting star cutie mark. I make note of her cutie mark not because of any particular symbolism I recognized, but just because out of all the wizards who had entered my room, hers was the only one not covered by formal robes.
To my mild surprise, one more pony entered after her: a cerulean earth pony about Somnambula’s age, who smiled and walked right over to my side.
“Excellent!” the mare announced. “You’re awake. Good morning, Mr. Coil.”
“His name ‘Morty’,” Graargh corrected on my behalf.
The mare chuckled. “Yes, little one. Well, Morty, I am Mage Meadowbrook. I’ve been looking after you as your doctor these past few days.”
“Few days?”
Meadowbrook nodded. “You’ve been asleep nearly two weeks. Quite a bit of magic had to be done to you, as well as more than a few of my herbs and potions. I won’t say it is a miracle that you survived,” she noted with a wink. “But it was certainly not a guarantee. Are you in any pain?”
“Yeah…” I answered. “Pretty much constant.”
“Hmm…” Meadowbrook thought for a long moment. “I will have the palace chefs prepare some willow bark tea for you. One word of warning: a touch of alcohol may be helpful, if you share Princess Gale’s preferences, but do not indulge. Your liver… well, most of your body is still recovering. You will get very sick if you push yourself. You should be able to get up to clean yourself and arrange for food, but absolutely no running or exertion. And avoid magic whenever you can. Your horn will be brittle for a week or so, and it will be very, very easy to crack the enamel.”
“Is that it?” I asked.
She nodded. “Were you expecting more?”
“I was half expecting to be told I’m undead now.”
The younger pink unicorn broke into suppressed laughter, earning her raised eyebrows from the rest of the gallery.
Meadowbrook simply shook her head. “Lady Luna would be tending to you if that were the case. I am very good at medicine for the living, but the way I hear it, you are the resident expert in that department yourself now.” She nodded curtly. “I’ll be staying in Everfree City for the week or so, at Lady Celestia’s request. I’ll speak to you in a week to ensure you’re recovering fully. If anything bothers you in the meantime, please do not be afraid to send for me. Otherwise, get lots of rest, and drink plenty of fluids.” She smiled, reached across me, and booped Graargh on the nose. The bear cub crossed his eyes and wrinkled his muzzle at the surprising motion. “That means you, little bear, need to give him some space. He’ll get better lots faster if he’s able to sleep.”
“But Graargh not want to leave.”
I patted him on the head. “This time I’m really not going anywhere, Graargh. I promise. Why don’t you go find Gale or something?”
“No, stay.”
Star Swirl coughed with his distinctive, wood-grained voice. “Perhaps you could wait outside the door for a few minutes then, Gurrarugh?” Graargh and I both winced at his pronunciation. “My colleagues and I have some things to discuss with ‘Morty’.”
“Fine…” Graargh grumbled. “Graargh sit right outside.” Squirming out from beside me, Graargh made a fine adolescent show of reluctance as he paced across the room and stomped out the door. ‘Mage’ Meadowbrook followed, closing the room behind her.
I glanced across the assembled group and nodded. “Is this a Wizard’s Conclave?”
The younger pink mare, who had laughed, cocked a brow. “A what?”
Star Swirl sighed. “A gathering of all the seated archmages in the nation. Held once a year, or on important business.” Then he turned to me. “No, Morty, this is not a conclave. That being said, you aren’t wrong for your guess. Let me introduce my colleagues. You already know Archmage Diadem and Archmage Clover.” His hoof moved toward the wrinkled, withered pink mare. “This is Archmage Mistmane the Beatiful, Mother of Illusions.”
“Mistmane?” I asked, sitting up slightly in Celestia’s bed. “You’re Mistmane the Beautiful?”
In a creaking voice, the old mare replied with a nod. “That surprises you?”
“Well, I just assumed that archmagi didn’t get ironic epithets often. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, forty? Not… ninety-whatever?” The room descended very quickly into a very awkward silence.
At last, it was Mistmane herself who laughed. “Most ponies aren’t that honest with me. Yes, Morty, I am only forty six years old. My appearances is a curse. A side effect of a disagreement with an old friend.”
Diadem coughed heavily into her hoof. “You may have saved the day, Morty, but that’s no excuse for that sort of rudeness.”
“Apologies,” I offered. Then I turned to the last mare, the younger pink one. “And you are?”
Star Swirl swept out a hoof by way of introduction. “Morty, meet Archmage Hourglass the Equalizer, Mother of Translocation.”
After realizing that my wide eyes were drying out, and blinking twice, I had to stop and ensure my heart was still beating in my chest. “Hourglass?”
“That’s me!” the young mare announced rather chipperly.
“Archmage Hourglass? From King Electrum’s time?” I pressed. “The mare who discovered how teleportation could be used to move through time as well as space?” She nodded meekly. “The mare who never died? Who vanished into times that never happened? That Archmage Hourglass?”
She made a pinching motion with her forehooves. “Some of those stories are just a little exaggerated, Morty. But I am the pony you’re thinking of.”
“How are you here?” I asked, almost immediately. “No, better question: why are you here?”
She shrugged. “When ponies use time magic irresponsibly, it can create unstable timelines that end in unfortunate futures. When you used time magic in your fight against Wintershimmer, it would have been totally fine, if you hadn’t had unlimited mana from the Summer Lands behind you. As it stands you punched a fairly rough hole in the fabric of time, and I had to come fix it.”
“Time magic?” Clover asked. “Morty, I didn’t realize you had used time magic.”
I waved a hoof. “I was dying of blood loss and quicksilver poisoning. At the very end, right before I tossed my body out of the Summer Lands, I slowed down its flow of time so that I wouldn’t bleed out or have my heart stop while Gale was finishing our plan.”
Hourglass gave me a nod. “That’s good thinking, Morty, but please never do it again.”
“If you can travel through time,” I prompted. “And you knew I was going to make such a big hole in time, why not come back earlier and stop Wintershimmer before this whole mess got started?”
“Well, I knew everything worked out for you,” Hourglass explained. “And you wouldn’t be the pony you are today if you hadn’t gone through all this trouble.”
“The pony I am today? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hourglass’ horn lit up, and beside her head, a heavy purple tome appeared. Of course, I couldn’t read the gold foil lettering on the cover, but it certainly seemed well made.
“You told me yourself,” Hourglass clarified. Then she flipped to the rear of the tome and traced her hoof along what I can only assume is this line of text. Then Hourglass read aloud “Then Hourglass read aloud ‘A hero, of course. Exactly the kind of pony Equestria would desperately need in a few short years, especially in the absence of Star Swirl and the other Pillars—’”
“Hourglass,” Star Swirl interrupted, grumbling curmudgeonly. “I think you ought to stop now. It’s bad enough you told the colt he writes that… that…”
“It’s titled A Beginner's Guide to Heroism,” she clarified.
“A self-help book?” I asked
She shook her head. “It’s part one of your autobiography, actually. A fun read, though personally I’m much more of a fan of the sequels. How To Make Undead and Influence Government, Tales from Everfree City, How I Learned to Stop Living and Love the Spell... Oh, and of course Daring Do and the Very Handsome Necromancer, though you had to ghost write that one.”
“Literally?” I asked with a grin.
Hourglass chuckled and opened her mouth, only to have it tugged shot when Mistmanes ludicrous horn began to glow. The artificially elderly unicorn rolled her eyes. “You are not a very responsible wizard, are you, Hourglass? What happens if you telling him this creates a grandfather paradox?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Hourglass answered, once her jaw was released. “But since you’re all so worried, I’ll remind you Morty is illiterate. For all he knows, I could be holding a phone book right now.”
Clover adjusted her glasses. “And what exactly is a ‘phone book’?”
Hourglass responded by groaning. “Why do I even open my mouth? Look, I’m just here because I’m going to need Morty’s help closing the last of the damage his spell did, once he’s up to casting. And there’s supposed to be another disturbance in time in six months or so, so I wanted to stick around and enjoy some of the golden age of magic. This was just an event I wanted to make sure and catch first hoof. Also, since I knew I was here from reading your book, not going would make a paradox.”
“Hourglass, my sanity would appreciate it if you would shut up now,” Star Swirl told her. Then the old mage cleared his throat, and the shaking of his body from that motion made the bells on his incredibly tacky robes jingle.
Hourglass suppressed a laugh at this exact moment, looking at a copy of this book, and it is only now in the act of recording this exchange that I realize what she thought was so funny.
“Morty, we archmages of Equestria have been talking,” Star Swirl began. “With Wintershimmer removed, the Crystal Union has no magical guidance whatsoever.”
“You have an… unconventional education,” Clover continued. “But despite who it came from, your actions have shown all of us that you have a good sense of morality and that you are a capable mage.”
Mistmane nodded, smiling. “That’s why we wanted to make you an offer. Morty, we archmagi are prepared to recognize you as the court mage of the Crystal Union.”
Diadem picked up. “I took the liberty of doing a little bit of research. You would be the youngest archmage in unicorn history. And by proxy, also the youngest court mage.”
Star Swirl put a hoof on the foot of the bed, smiling as best the curmudgeonly old wizard could manage. “We’re prepared to waive the need for an arcane thesis for you, since Queen Jade requested your talents herself. You’ve already bested a seated archmage in a duel, and to our reckoning you meet all the other requirements of the title.” His bells jangled even as he stood still. “Do you accept?”
I sat there silent for a very long stretch of moments before I at least had the self awareness to shut my gaping jaw. “You’re serious?”
“We are,” Diadem said. “Now, with some of your… self-confidence...”
“Ego, Diadem,” Star Swirl corrected. “That word is pronounced ego.”
“Yes, well…” the librarian wizard shook her head to wave off the distraction. “We hope you understand that this does not make you the preeminent wizard among us. There’s a lot more to the practice of magic than skill in dueling, even if that is how history often remembers us. We trust you would defer to our advice, or at least hear us out when we meet in conclave.”
“I… I legitimately don’t know what to say,” I told them.
“He is still recovering,” Mistmane noted. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have sprung this on him so soon?”
Star Swirl sighed. “The union needs an archmage. And if we are offering, it would be wrong of us to install a substitute without his consent.” Then he returned his attention to me. “If you would like more time to think it through, we would be glad to have Mistmane fill that role while you consider and recover.”
I echoed the mood with a sigh of my own. “Yes. Sorry. It’s… it’s just a lot to take in. Mistmane, you have my permission. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Morty,” she answered. “Come on, everypony. We should give Coil room. Meadowbrook did want him to rest.”
“I’ll be just a moment,” Star Swirl the Bearded announced. His reputation amongst the wizards loomed; nopony even questioned that proclamation. Soon, he and I were alone.
“What else can I do for you?” I asked. “If you have any other lifetime rivals, you’re going to have to give me a week or two to get back on my hooves, at least.”
Star Swirl rolled his eyes at that. “Thankfully, Morty, Wintershimmer was my only peer.” The old wizard reached into his robes and pulled out his pipe, which lit easily with his magic. A few puffs of smoke, dancing in odd shapes, reached for the ceiling of Celestia’s room. “I have another message for you, Morty.”
“Oh?”
Star Swirl nodded. “While you were resting, the Triumvirate and the Sisters met. The agreement was unanimous. Wintershimmer is too dangerous and too capable of controlling the dead to be banished to Tartarus. We intend to disperse his soul.”
Logically, it wasn’t a surprise, but the weight of the sentence nevertheless gave me pause. After sitting for a spell, watching the rings and stars that rose from the bowl of Star Swirl’s pipe, I sat back. “I see.”
“When I told him, he asked me a single last request.” The great beard swayed from the stallion’s chin. “Wintershimmer wanted to speak to you one last time, Morty. In his own words, he wanted to apologize.”
I doubt I am a poet enough to capture the full spectrum of the emotions that crashed over me in that moment. Some I understood instantly, intuitively. Anger. Distrust. Spite. Others were harder to name, and some even harder still to understand.
“You don’t have to go,” Star Swirl told me. “By all means, if you would prefer to forget him, that is your prerogative. But if you do want to indulge him, or if there is anything you wish to resolve, I would suggest you do it today. Now that you are awake, the thrones will want to finish this whole affair.”
“Thank you,” I told him. When he raised a brow, I continued “for telling me.”
“Most ponies just know Wintershimmer as a bitter, evil old stallion,” Star Swirl replied. “But I’ve sat and talked to him already. I still remember him as a young stallion, when he was my closest friend. I don’t know what you feel about him, or hardly a thing about how he treated you as an apprentice, but if you had any spark of sympathy left for him, I did not want to deny you the chance for closure.” With that, Star Swirl rose to his hooves and tucked away his pipe. “A word of caution. Think carefully about how you feel before you speak to him, if you do. If you go in unprepared, it will hurt.” Then the arthritic, poorly-groomed living legend in tacky robes took a few creaking steps toward the door. As it opened in the glow of his magic, he briefly glanced back to me. “Celestia asked to speak to you, once you have your hooves under you. And I imagine Queen Jade would as well.” As if reading my mind, he concluded “Your jacket’s in the wardrobe.”
“Oh.” Then I smiled a very confused smile. “How did you know—?”
“That you’d insist on something to wear?” Star Swirl chuckled sadly. “Remember, Morty, I knew Wintershimmer when we were both your age. There are some habits I’d bet my life he passed on. I can imagine that will be one of the harder ones to shake, if you even care to.”
As the doors to Celestia’s room swung shut, I couldn’t help but reflect that Star Swirl’s joke left me with an unsettled, sinking feeling in my chest.
I only waited two or three minutes of failed attempts at sleep before I finally forced myself out of Celestia’s bed, donned my sleek jacket, and opened the door out into the hallways of Everfree City’s elaborate palace.
I absolutely was not prepared for the cheering. In point of fact, I fear I may have looked rather stupid as I stood dumbfounded at slack-jawed at the few hundred ponies waiting in the palace hall outside my door.
They were all shouting at me, and I somehow managed not to hear a word of it. Ponies were smiling and waving, but before any of them could approach, I felt a small fuzzy weight slam into my side, knocking me down. ‘Graargh’, my mind insisted, even before I looked down at the bear cub wrapped around my waist. “Morty! Doctor pony said sleep!”
I broke out into laughter at the attention, the joy, the sheer energy of it all. “I’ll be fine. Just a nice walk, right?” I wrapped my hooves around Graargh and gave him the tightest hug I could, shouting just to be heard as other ponies gathered around. That show of affection seemed to calm him down. “How are you doing, kid?”
“Graargh good. Slestia make good food for Graargh. We catch funny fish in pond.”
“If you’re about to tell me that Celestia eats meat, Graargh, you can just be quiet now.” I bent over, and then hefted the bear cub onto my shoulders to keep him from being stepped on by my still-roaring fans. With my hooves free, I began being accosted for hoofshakes, hugs, and kind words that my mind barely had the time to process.
“Everypony!” I shouted, once my attention was fully on the crowd. I took two steps back, halfway retreating into Celestia’s room, and shouted again. “Quiet, please!”
The silence was instant. I honestly doubted I could have done better with a spell.
“Um… I’m really grateful you’re all here, but I’m at a bit of a loss. What did I actually do for you to get this many ponies here?”
A freckled earth pony mare in the front of the mass pushed slightly forward, almost to the verge of kissing me just to get my attention. “We’re from the Hollows.”
“And Platinum’s Landing!” somepony else shouted.
Freckles up front nodded. “Right, there too. The Lady Celestia said that you saved our families’ souls. You are Morty the Hero, right?”
“You… all of you?” I chuckled. “Didn’t seem like big enough towns to me.”
It was then I learned that when an entire crowd gives a chuckle, the end result is massive, deafening laughter.
“She said you might have died for us. We wanted to stay, in case you passed.” Freckles smiled. “We was gonna bury you in the Hollows with a big statue if you didn’t make it. She said you wanted that. But you did make it!”
“Well, technically, I didn’t.” Whispering spread through the crowd. “Not like what you’re fearing. I promise I still have body heat. But I don’t call myself ‘Coil the Immortal’ because I like the cadence.”
“…immortal?” somepony asked.
“Is he another god?”
“Perhaps Lady Celestia blessed him. He is her chosen.”
I reared up on my hind legs to wave my hoofs. “No, no, nothing religious. I’m just… Well, maybe ‘just’ isn’t fair. I’m a wizard. I just did what a wizard is supposed to do. I protected you from evil magic.”
“Yeah!” somepony shouted.
“Cheers for Coil the Immortal!” somepony else shouted. The epithet I’d made up for myself to spite Queen Jade in a moment of pettiness rang out from the masses over and over again, and I beamed—right up to the point where the cute freckled earth pony mare grabbed me by the sides of my muzzle and kissed me, square on the lips.
“I… Oh.”
“You’re cute, ‘Coil the Immortal’.”
“I prefer handsome, but I understand where you’re coming from. You have excellent taste.” I extended a hoof past her and pushed into the crowd. “Though I won’t say that’s the same as tasting excellent. Rub basil, mint, and walnut on your teeth next time you want to sneak a kiss.” If nothing else, the comment gave the young mare pause, and I took my opening to push past her into the crowd. “Pardon me, everypony. I need to— Yes, it’s a beautiful foal. What? No, I can’t bless him. Her, sorry. No, you absolutely do not want me to enchant her; do I look like a fairy? What are you expecting, a spinning wheel on her sixteenth birthday?” My progress was slow, and I hardly forced it to go faster. “You aren’t my type, but I appreciate the offer. No, not—stallions. Stallions are not my type. No, I will not use magic to ‘fix it’ Thank you, yes, the flowers look lovely. No, I don’t need a cow. I absolutely do not need a farm.”
“Graargh would like—”
“He doesn’t need a farm either!” I finally pushed past the crowd. “Everypony, thank you very much. You’ve been fantastic. But unfortunately a nigh-immortal hero’s work is never done. If you’d like, I can still come to the Hollows to model for that statue you mentioned in a few days. Again, you’re all wonderful. Farewell!”
Graargh barely held on as I bolted off sprinting into the halls of the Equestrian Palace.
It took me more than a bit of time to lose the crowd, and then substantially more to remember my way to the solarium. When I finally did I was glad it was empty of petitioners and hoof-kissers. Only Celestia awaited me, staring away from the stairs and out at the sunny sky.
“I’m glad you’re awake, Morty.” There was iron in the alicorn’s voice.
I walked forward hesitantly. “I feel like I’ve overslept, even though I don’t have anywhere to be.”
“Hmm…” Celestia said nothing else, but she extended a wing and gently patted the floor beside where she was seated. “You brought Graargh?”
“He run fast.”
As Celestia quirked a brow, I chuckled. “You told the ponies from the Hollow I was the one who saved them. More than a few of them were waiting for me to wake up.”
“I told the truth,” Celestia observed somewhat coldly. “Are you engaged now?”
“No, not yet. I’m not a real fan of the taste of rustic dentistry.”
The joke didn’t seem to amuse the real immortal. The only semblance of a reply she gave was to tilt her head back so that her horn pointed vaguely in the direction of the stairs back into the palace. “Graargh, I know Morty has just woken up, but I need to speak to him privately for a few minutes.”
I’ve never understood Celestia’s influence over children. Despite his usual ursine obstinance, Graargh hopped off my back without a word and found his way off the open roof that made up the Solarium.
“I think I probably owe you an explanation,” I began as I finally reached Celestia’s side and took the offered seat.
Celestia shook her head in rebuttal. “I’ve read both what what you wrote to Gale and to Star Swirl. Between that and how I found you, I understand your plan.” Sitting beside her on the edge of the roof, I found myself looking over the edge of a very long drop down the side of the Equestrian palace. “I might accept an apology, though.”
“Oh! Um… Celestia, I’m sorry.” Silence followed for a few moments. “I know I was rude to you when I was dead, and—”
“Morty. Look at me.”
I looked up. Celestia did not look down. Her face remained locked on the horizon as she spoke. “Do you think a few shouted words are what would make somepony mad at you?”
I swallowed. “No…”
“I suspect this is something you never had the chance to learn under your former mentor, but there are ponies in the world who would like to be consulted before you place yourself in danger. Logical or not, on an emotional level, these ponies are hurt when you run off on your own without so much as a warning.” Finally, she turned to look at me. “We call them ‘friends’, Morty.”
I winced. “Right… sorry.”
“That’s better,” she replied. “More genuine.”
“Wait; you’re judging my apology now?”
“Oh, I didn’t really want one. That little exercise was for your benefit.” Celestia returned her eyes to the horizon. “I doubt Gale will admit that’s how she feels, though. It would be too ‘frilly’ for her to talk about her feelings without cursing a dozen times first.”
We sat there in a long silence, the wind tossing my mane as hers flowed at the whim of some other force entirely. Off in the distance, lightly armored pegasi adjusted the clouds over the city.
“How are you feeling?”
“Hmm?” I looked up to find Celestia’s gaze softened, looking down at me. “I thought I already told you, I felt like I overslept.”
“I didn’t quite mean physically. What’s bothering you, Morty?”
I took a few spare seconds and a few long breaths to lock down my thoughts before I built up the confidence that my answer was honest. “I was just remembering what happened the last time I felt like this. After Platinum’s Landing, when I had a crowd. Fans.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “All those ponies cheering me on felt amazing. It’s… electrifying. It’s magical. It’s what I wanted.”
“To be a hero?” Celestia asked.
I gave a small, hesitant nod. “But I know that’s not who I really am.”
“It isn’t?” Celestia asked, arching a brow.
I shook my head. “I tried to be selfless. To do the things I do without the praise. Blizzard and I talked about it Trotsylvania. But I just felt hollow. And in Platinum’s Landing, taking the praise got me in trouble. Wintershimmer used it to get Typhoon to accuse me.”
Celestia donned a slight, tired smile. I saw the hints of wrinkles on the corners of her lips. “Let me make sure I’m understanding, Morty. You’re afraid of taking the praise for being a hero, because you think that if you accept the reward, you won’t be a good pony anymore?”
“I… I’m worried I wouldn’t do it without the praise.”
“Oh? So you were confident you were going to beat Wintershimmer? Even though you knew you wrote that you thought you were going to die, you were motivated by the promise that there would be a cheering crowd on the other side?”
“Well, no, but…” I scratched behind my own ear as I searched for words.
Celestia wrapped a wing over my shoulders. “Did you demand their praise? Did you even let anypony know you wanted it?”
“No…”
“You had absolutely nothing to do with setting up the crowd?”
“I was comatose; how could I?”
Celestia nodded. “An important part of generosity is learning to be graceful when somepony else offers you something. Everypony has motivations, Morty. And all things considered, yours are incredibly generous—you aren’t asking for money or gifts. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in admitting you like attention, and there’s nothing to gain from suppressing that part of yourself.”
I glanced out at the Equestrian sky. “You think I should just live it up?”
“I think that you’ve managed to make an incredibly strong set of friends despite being the single most egotistical, self-absorbed young stallion I have ever met in a very long life.” Celestia held a straight face for an impressive few seconds before cracking a slight grin. “I think you should keep being the pony you want to be. I’d call that pony a hero any day. We can work on the ego another time.”
I couldn’t help smiling—and I will fully admit, not a suave restrained smile like I usually wore. I beamed like the sun at the praise, and my shoulders rose as I found my lungs suddenly able to hold more air.
“Archmage Coil the Immortal,” I whispered to myself.
I’d meant for it to be proud, but it came across shallow, false.
Celestia noticed. “Something on your mind, Morty?”
“Just… Well, before I left the Union, Wintershimmer told me he wanted me out because he knew I would take his seat as Court Mage, even though I wasn’t ready.”
Celestia nodded. “I think by now we thoroughly understand how skilled a liar he was.”
“But that’s just it,” I countered. “He wasn’t lying. Sure, I beat him in a duel, but that was by the skin of my teeth. I still don’t have an thesis of my own. And Star Swirl and Clover and the others said I could become an archmage, but…”
Celestia lowered her neck so that her head came to rest very nearly beside mine. “Now, Morty, I admit you’ve caught me off guard. You love titles. I’ve heard how you had yourself introduced to the court. Wasn’t being acknowledged as archmage your goal?”
“Yes, but I’m not stupid,” I snapped. “Look… I can go sit by Jade and cast spells and hunt monsters all day long. But the fact of the matter is right now, if I gave up studying to go play archmage, I’d embarrass myself. I’d ruin my legacy.” And then I sighed. “Besides… It just doesn’t feel right going back there anymore, without Wintershimmer.”
“Without Wintershimmer?” Celestia cocked a brow. “You almost sound sad.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“The last time I dropped something because you asked me not to think about it, you died. Twice. Forgive me if I feel like pressing this time.”
I swallowed, hard. “Wintershimmer was an awful pony… a terrible, evil pony. But he’s also the reason I am who I am. Who else would pick a student with a horn like mine?”
“Ah.” Celestia nodded. “Have you spoken to him?”
“I don’t know if I should,” I told her. “What do I even say?”
“Goodbye?” Celestia offered, earning just a hint of a chuckle from me. “All I can tell you is to follow your own example. Don’t try and make some grandiose plan, Morty. Just go in. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel. And know that, one way or another, it will hurt. But you’ll be stronger for it.”
A warm white wing spread over my shoulders, and I leaned into Celestia’s side.
“Thanks.”
“Oh, don’t thank me just yet. I have something of a reward of my own for you, if you are interested.”
“Hmm?” Celestia removed her wing as I looked up.
“You mentioned not wanting to return to the Union. It has been a very, very long time for me. Over a millenium, if I am being completely honest. But once, all those years ago, I used to call myself a teacher.” With a wistful glint in her eye, Celestia returned her attention to the horizon. “I know you disagreed with Diadem’s philosophy on what it means to study magic. I’m not any sort of wizard the way Star Swirl or Diadem are. But if you wanted, I could perhaps—”
“I would be honored,” I told her, finally finding my words. Then I coughed into my hoof. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off. I was just stunned, and then…”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Celestia smiled. “It’s been to long since Luna and I were among other ponies for any length of time, and I’ve missed the bond of a mentor. It will be a pleasure working with you.”
“It will be an honor, Master.”
“Oh, please, no.” Celestia’s face soured as if tasting curdled milk. “First lesson: no ‘master’, no ‘mistress’. ‘Lady Celestia’ is tolerable in formal settings, but from you, I am just Celestia, and you are still Morty.”
“Understood. Now, time for your first test, Morty. Go find Gale. And remember what I taught you earlier. Then say your goodbyes to Wintershimmer.”
“And then what?”
Celestia smiled, pushing me away with a wing. “I think you’ll know.”