Age 1:
At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
----
The mare stood in front of me on three legs, a swaddled bundle in her raised foreleg. For some reason I still cannot explain, I was struck by the colour of her eyes. Certainly, green is not an unusual hue in a pony, but these luminous green ones were fixed so imploringly on me that I found it quite distracting.
“I can assure you, Miss Merryweather, that Equestria will not fall. Not today, not tomorrow, and not as long as I draw breath.”
“But…” She bit her lip, clearly also biting down on whatever she had been about to say.
“Go on, my little pony,” I said, as reassuring as I could under the circumstances. “Say what it is you wish to say. There will be no censure or reprisal from me.”
She shut her eyes. I was quite grateful for that until she spoke. “But you might not always be here, your majesty.”
“I am not about to abandon this land or you.”
“That … is not what I meant, your majesty.” She squeezed her eyes even tighter shut. “I know Day Court is meant to be for questions and disputes, not … well, not … this. But … I would like to know that my daughter will grow up in a world that is safe and with a ruler who will not … will not …”
The unspoken word hung in the middle of the court like a firefly: die.
“Leave us,” she finished instead.
For a moment I could not speak. I posed it as a thoughtful silence, as if I was considering her words with the same gravity I would consider the words of a foreign diplomat. I carefully smoothed a familiar expression across my face: that of the beatific ruler, divine and near-omniscient, who could not possibly be wrong in anything she said. It was an expression long practised. I noted the immediate easing of tension in her shoulders at its appearance.
“Miss Merryweather.” My voice was gentle as the clouds my pegasi pushed across the sky and as solid and reassuring as the earth beneath our hooves. “I will never leave the land. This land is me and I am this land. I could no more leave Equestria than the air itself could turn into cheese. I will take no risks with its future for I am its servant and a servant to its ponies. A ruler must serve those who look to her or else she is no true ruler at all.” I smiled. It hurt my cheeks. “I will always be here for you and all my little ponies.”
The tiny mare before me clutched her even tinier bundle even closer. “Thank you, majesty.”
I nodded, giving her tacit permission to leave.
Once she was gone I stood, startling the guards beside my throne. “No more appointments today.”
“But majesty -”
“I am tired and there is still work to be done. If anypony is indeed waiting, please take their names and assure them they will be seen at first light tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, I walked off my podium and out of the throne room. It wasn’t as if they could stop me. I was the divine and near-omniscient ruler, after all.
Two thrones, side by side, one red velvet, the other blue. Only the red velvet was crushed today. I pushed those thoughts from my mind and quickened my step. I wasn’t sure where I was going but I wanted to go there fast. The hypocrisy of my running away right after assuring one of my subjects that I would always be here did not escape me, but my mind thrummed with the need for solitude.
It was at times like this that I most wished Starswirl was still around.
“What advice would you give me, old friend?” I asked once the doors had closed behind me.
Of course, nopony answered. I sighed, dropping my head in a way I never would - never could - in front of my subjects. All at once my legs trembled as if they could no longer hold me up. I was not lacking in energy but the shaking would not stop. I cast a teleportation spell and flopped gratefully onto my bed in my own chambers.
To my chagrin, what seemed like only moments later, a knock sounded at the ornate internal door.
“M … majesty?” quavered a voice.
“I have no need of thy services at present, Golden Comb.”
The maidservant apologised profusely and her hoofsteps retreated. I imagined her perched on her chair, staring at the door between ours chambers. She was a nervous mare, excellent at her work and loyal to a fault but prone to anxiety at the slightest provocation. Knowing I was in here at a time I would usually be abroad in the castle would have thrown off her routine. My brain ticked over the knowledge that she was also a loose-lipped pony and that my choice to languish in my room may lead to rumours of illness amongst my little ponies. Such public concern was not one I wished to encourage right now, so instead I summoned another teleportation spell and transported myself away from the familiar surroundings.
I emerged on the other side in a plain room of wood and shallow decoration. My hooves did not clank when they touched the floor, but echoed with the hollow clop of an ordinary, unshod pony. I turned to make sure my wings no longer crested my back, which appeared narrowed than usual. Soft grey fur clothed me, enough shades off from my usual white to convince any casual glances that the small earth pony before them did not spend most of her time ruling the realm from a red velvet throne. The glamour was not a particularly complicated spell. Disguises were showponyship. It would be the work of a moment to revert to my usual size and shape. I tossed my head, feeling the weight of actual hair. Sometimes I missed that comforting solidness. It made me feel … for lack of a better word, ‘realer’.
I kept the little house in lower Canterlot for personal use. Nopony batted an eyelid as I left it and walked slowly down the street. I needed some time alone, but for a princess of the realm, that was easier said than done. Calling this part of the city ‘lower’ was almost a joke - the upper levels were still being built. My own design, helped immensely by the best architects Equestria had to offer. I had begun calling the little group ‘City Planners’ which made them swell with such pride I had already resolved to create a new guild of the name especially for them.
Luna would never see Canterlot finished. She had never seen the need for another city, casting sidelong looks at the plans when they were presented to her and voicing dissent that I was simply building a higher plinth for ponies to revel in my glory. It never seemed to occur to her that ponies reaching to the sky held their hooves towards both the sun and the moon.
I trotted along the newly laid cobblestones and veered left, to a section of the city in which ponies were already living. Everfree was a wonderful capital but had reached capacity a generation ago. In our wildest dreams we had never expected ponykind to flourish so after Discord’s rule. While I viewed the rising number of surviving births each year, part of my brain nagged at me until I commissioned the start of Canterlot as a sort of overflow. I had intended to ask Luna to rule from one city while I took care of the other. In hindsight, even if she had not turned into that … creature of darkness, perhaps my plans were all a fool’s errand. Perhaps Luna would have pitted her city against mine and laid waste to our little ponies even more than she was able before I banished her.
Moving to Canterlot was not an upgrade in accommodation. The nobility resisted, wanting to keep the positions they had spent generations securing in Everfree. Within the city walls rose monuments to their lineage - houses, mansions, even buildings constructed to resemble small castles. If I were an ordinary leader, not the ageless scion of celestial bodies, I think I should have been much warier of the nobles and their desire for greatness. More than one ruler of each of the three tribes had been deposed by his or her own ponies.
Canterlot bustled with the lower classes. I could hear their voices the nearer I came to the neat rows of houses beyond the building work. A skidded to a stop as a small filly rushed across my path, pursued by a colt so similar they had to be related. Each brandished a small wooden sword, making their pell mell gallop a wonky affair limited to three legs.
“I vanquish thee, foul demon!” the colt cried.
“You can’t vanquish me!” the filly protested. “I’m the hero this time!”
“Yeah but boys are stronger so I still win.” He puffed up his chest. “I vanquish thee, foul hero!”
“That doesn’t even make any sense! You never play fair! I’m telling Momma that you’re not playing fair!” The filly held her sword tight to her chest and turned down a nearby alley, shouting as she ran. “Momma! Momma! Crescent is being mean to me again!”
“I am not!” The colt shot after her.
I paused, watching them leave. Neither had so much as acknowledged my presence. It felt rather good, to be honest. A cart creaked by and I stepped aside to avoid it. The grizzled stallion pulling it nodded in my direction.
“G’day, ma’am,” he rasped.
“Um, good day, sir.”
“Mmhmm. Good, good day.” He mouthed on a well-chewed stalk of straw. “You keepin’ well?”
I was taken aback. “I, uh … yes, thank you.” I hesitated before adding. “And yourself?”
“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” He moved the stalk to the other side. “Sun came up on time, so I’d count that as a good day, considerin’.” He nodded to himself. “Can’t be easy. Nope. Can’t be easy. Well, I’d best be gettin’ on or else my wife’ll be naggin’ like the nag she is.” He winked at me, smiling two rows of broken yellow teeth, “Fifty-two years married an’ I wouldn’t have her any other way. Good day t’you, ma’am.”
I watched him go, bemused by the exchange. “Uh … yes. Good day to you too, sir.”
Life went on. No matter the turmoil in my heart or the terrible things that had transpired in the dead of night, life still went on. It didn’t pause, didn’t wait, didn’t so much as stumble. It teemed around me in this half-built city, bubbling into each new day and spilling over into the next night and beyond.
“I’ve told you two, you need to be nicer to each other. I don’t have time to referee your arguments all the time!” A feminine alto echoed from the alleyway the two foals had run down. The rough cry of a newborn followed her words. “Oh, now look what your arguing has caused! Hush, my darling, hush now. Shhhh, shhhh, it’s all right.”
My hooves moved as if of their own accord. I barely remember trotting down the alley or fetching up in front of the little house. The porch was newly scrubbed. A pair of wooden swords leaned against it. My knock brought a muffled curse and hoofsteps to the door.
“Yes?” The brown mare was weatherbeaten now but had been pretty once. Age couldn’t take away the signs of her former beauty. “Can I help you?”
“I’m sorry.” My tongue felt thick in my mouth. “Your foal. I … I heard crying. I was passing by and … the filly and colt crossed my path…” I struggled to explain what even I was having trouble understanding.
She mare stared at me. “Did they bother you? Oh, those two troublemakers! I’m terribly sorry.”
“No, no! It’s fine. I just ... “ I shrugged. “You sound like you could use some help.”
She pushed tendrils of mane from her face. “Couldn’t everypony? The whole world seems to be going to pieces lately.”
“All the more reason we should pull together,” I replied. “In times of adversity ponies need to support each other.”
She gave me a strange look. “Uh … yeah, I suppose.”
“I … used to sing to … my little sister when we were much younger. She was a fretful filly, always too fussy to sleep, but when I sang to her it … helped.”
“You’re telling me you want to sing to my baby?” The strange look became penetrating. “I’m afraid I don’t have any spare coin for travelling minstrels -”
“No, I desire no payment. I … my sister … I lost her recently.” I resisted by tears formed in my eyes at having to say the words. “In a terrible accident.”
The mare’s face gentled in an instant. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I lost my sister when we were tiny, too. Pneumonia.” She cast her eyes downward. “Would … you like to come in, uh …?”
“Dovetail.” The pigeon that had inspired my name looked at me curiously from the eaves.
“Miss Dovetail.” The mare stepped aside. “I’m Honeycomb. This little one here is Ginger Root, and the two ruffians you met earlier were Cinnamon and Pumpkin Seed.”
I was led into a small, neat kitchen with a round table that would have been far too small had I been my real size. Honeycomb shooed away the two little faces peering around the doorway and gestured me into a chair. Her hesitation was slight before she placed the bundle of loud swaddling into my forehooves.
“Hello there, little one,” I murmured, pushing aside the cloth to get a better look at the foal’s face.
Ginger Root’s orange fur was tufting and streaked with tears. Her eyes were scrunched so tightly shut that she couldn’t tell I wasn’t her mother until I spoke. They shot open and gazed at me, though she didn’t stop her crying.
“Hush now.”
I closed my eyes briefly, calling up the lullaby from so long ago. I remembered being trusted to hold a similar swaddled bundle and a tufted blue face staring up at me. I remembered a firm parental hoof steadying my grip and how I had stared right back at my newborn sister.
“Sleep, filly, sleep,
Your father tends the sheep.
Your mother shakes the dreamland tree.
And from it fall sweet dreams for thee,
Sleep, filly, sleep.
“Sleep, filly, sleep,
Our cottage vale is deep
The earth pony is on the green
With soil and seed so soft and clean
Sleep, filly, sleep.
“Sleep, filly, sleep,
As you I safely keep,
The unicorns bring on the night,
In clouds the pegasi sleep tight,
Sleep filly sleep.”
Ginger Root yawned and nuzzled against my stroking hoof.
“I’ve never seen her nod off so quickly before!” Honeycomb whispered. “You’re a marvel, Miss Dovetail.”
I said nothing, just continued to stroke the tiny, helpless filly. Once upon a time Luna had been this small and helpless. Once upon a time I had sung this lullaby to her and watched her perfect little eyelashes curl upon her cheeks. Once upon a time neither of us had any thoughts of rulership, power or betrayal in our heads. We were young, we were together and we were happy. That was all that mattered.
But life went on. It did not stop for my grief or regrets. Honeycomb’s family and families just like them still had lives to live. They needed a ruler. They needed a princess.
They needed me.
“I’m glad I could help.” I passed Ginger Root back to her mother and rose from my chair. “I’ll be on my way now.”
“Oh!” Honeycomb looked shocked. “Won’t you please stay for some tea first?”
“I’m afraid not. I have things I must attend to today. I was … on my way to work when your young ones crossed my path.” I hesitated. It felt like a lifetime inside my head. “But … could I perhaps take you up on that offer at a later date?”
Honeycomb smiled. “If you can get my little Ginger Root to sleep like this again, you’re welcome back here anytime, Miss Dovetail.”
I smiled, bid her goodbye and left the neat little home. Instead of exploring further, I trotted back to my safe house.
I had work to do.