The day after meeting Morning Star and her family saw me returned to mine own home, and descending into the tower’s basement. With the conclave but a few days away I wished to make sure all my equipment was ready for the trip. ‘Twould not do to scramble to fix some issue if I discovered at the last minute that something was missing or damaged. To my mild surprise, I found Mother already within the laboratory that was also located within the basement. She had a small cauldron set up and was busy going about preparing some potion based on the precise way she was preparing ingredients.
“Working on Mossy Banks’ potion, Mother?”
Mother’s head turned from her work as I entered the laboratory. “It should not come as a shock that I would make the potion after gathering ingredients for one.”
I shook my head and tried not to remember the dirt involved during their collection. “Neigh, such is logical enough.”
Mother nodded, returning to her work. “What brings thee to the basement this day?”
“I was going to make sure everything was ready for the conclave.” To emphasize my point, I headed over to a nearby closet and opened it. Within sat my new set of armor, some weapons, and a variety of potions, as well as a range of other gear and magical trinkets. “I did not wish to be caught unawares should I need something.”
“As is only reasonable.” Mother ground up some cave mushrooms. “I should do the same later. Though first, I have been meaning to ask how the last couple of days have treated thee.”
“I have been keeping busy,” I told her. “As we discussed I should, I spoke with Shadow, Gale, and Morning about my patronage.”
“Is that so?” Mother poured the crushed mushrooms into her cauldron. “And what hast thou learned?”
“That they would all be happy to be my patron for one, so that much is good.” I levitated out mine armor, a new construction only recently commissioned and finished by the armorer. Painted black as night, the mithril scale mail was surprisingly light, though still as tough as tempered steel. To my pleasure, the helmet was adorned to look like the head of a raven, the beak coming down as part of the noseguard. Both Mother and I had enchanted the armor, and I found myself quite pleased with the result.
“Indeed it is.” Mother wiped her hooves clean before glancing to me. “It seems thou hast taken a keen interest in finding a patron for thyself.”
I stiffened, for there was something within Mother’s tone that made me wary. “Aye, that I have. I have been most vigorous in finding alternative patrons to Mossy Banks for you, and I have found some fine choices.”
Mother’s eyes narrowed. “So eager to find a patron other than he?”
I knew a lie would not get past her. “Yes.”
Mother let out an annoyed huff. “If thou art truly so desperate to avoid dealing with a little dirt, 'tis all the more important to break thee of such weaknesses.”
Mine ears wilted. I feared a conversation like this was coming. “‘Tis hardly as much of a problem as you seem to think.”
“Thou hast spent the past several hours desperately running hither and yon to avoid the possibility of doing it,” Mother pointed out. “That tells me that there is a problem.”
I summoned an argument to try and counter the path Mother was heading down. “Is it so wrong I would prefer others to be my patron?”
“Is it Mossy Banks thou dost object to, or his environment?”
“Mossy Banks is a fine magus, everypony knows this,” I quickly answered. “I have nothing against him.”
Mother stomped a hoof and glowered down at me. “Then 'tis truly just that thou art so frightened by dirt that thou wouldst take any alternative to the risk of being exposed to it.”
I hunched my shoulders under Mother’s disapproving glare. “I am not frightened by it, I merely hate its existence.”
“Enough to make life-altering decisions regarding it.” Mother sniffed in clear disapproval and shook her head. “Didst thou choose Gale and Shadow because they would be fine patrons, or because thou thinkest they can help thee avoid the most dirt?”
“‘Tis ... dirt causes me to not want Mossy Banks to be my patron,” I admitted. I tried to think of an argument for why dirt was so loathsome. Really, this should be self-evident. Why did I need to explain it? “Dirt is unhygenic.”
Mother’s steely gaze did not falter. “Mayhaps, but thy fear of it is cripplingly disproportionate.”
I grimaced. “Mother, please, do you really intend to make Mossy Banks my patron?”
Mother tsked and turned back to her cauldron. “I intend to make thy patron whome'er would serve thee best.”
I sighed and returned to inspecting my armor. “So I have no real choice in the matter?”
“I will hear thy thoughts, certainly,” Mother answered as she prepared a paste out of a jar. “If thou wouldst have another patron, either show how others might better teach thee or that Mossy Banks does not offer so much as I think. ‘Tis hardly complicated.”
So that was all there was to it. I needed to convince Mother that one of the other choices was superior to Mossy Banks. That could probably be done, but I didn’t want to press the matter right at that moment. Mother had dug in her heels and she would not be easily convinced. Neigh, there were better ways to handle this; first I would give some time for Mother’s position to soften while I thought over mine arguments. If I expressed which patron I preferred and presented that patron while doing so, then ‘twould be more difficult for Mother to say no, since then she would have to offend that proposed patron to their face. Even she would have trouble maneuvering her way out of that. ‘Twas a harsher tactic than I liked to take with my mother, but such were the times that I fell on such things. Now if I could only decide on who I desired to be my patron...
“Was there anything else?” Mother asked as she checked over a bubbling piece of glass.
I thought it best to switch topics. “Yes, I spoke with Morning about your recent disagreements, and I believe I have found a couple of solutions to put your discord to rest.”
That caught Mother’s interest, for she stopped her work to look back at me. “Oh? Go on.”
“Morning has said she is willing to speak with you as a favor to me, and I have discovered that Magus Repose is in need of a patron. By offering to become Repose's patron, you could gain a means by which to convince Morning to agree with you.”
“Is that so?” Mother stroked her cheek. “Well then ... patronage is not a thing to be offered lightly, but the chance to return her to the fold is hard to ignore.”
I nodded. “Aye, the alternative is for me to become Morning's client. She told me she would come back under your fold if you allowed it.”
“Both interesting possibilities, but also ones that would substantially enhance her own prestige.” Mother frowned as she took some time to think. “'Tis an exchange I might make, but I see no reason to rush into such an accord without consideration. Let us see how the conclave plays out ere I offer her such a valuable boon.”
I saw how she was thinking. The conclaves often involved a great deal of deal-making and trading of favors. That, and it was common for a great many unexpected events to happen. If it turned out Mother absolutely needed Morning’s support, she could grant her one of her boons to cement her aid. Or mayhaps she could arrange another patronage for Sidereal Repose that would please Morning enough to get her to acquiesce. Rushed decisions were often the worst, and Mother was in a position where she could play for time and see how events proceeded. It was a tactic she had taught me, after all. While it had to be carefully used lest one be overly passive in one’s decision making, it was still a useful tool to use in the right circumstances.
“That would seem wise,” I said. I still desired to seal the rift ‘tween Mother and Morning, but I was reasonably sure I could do so at the conclave. Neither wanted to quarrel with one another, and there was room for a middle ground. Aye, Mother was not the only pony who could wait and see how events unfolded to their advantage.
“But of course it is,” Mother said. “Morning is still within my power. This is hardly a crisis I cannot manage. Most of the conclaves I have gone to have gone my way, after all.”
“Very good then.” I tilted my head as talk of the conclave reminded me of something. “Though there was something else I wished to bring to your attention.”
“What is it?” Mother asked as she drank from a canteen.
I picked up my rack of potions and sifted through them to make sure that none of them had expired. “Magus Daylight Shimmer said he wished to speak with me about something important. Though he would not say what exactly. Merely that he wished to wait until the conclave to do so.”
Mother raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? How curious. Dost thou have a guess what he wanted to discuss?”
I scratched the back of my neck as I thought the question over. In truth, it had bothered me since I returned to Canterlot. “There is one thing that has come to mind. ‘Tis possible that he might propose to court and marry me to seal an alliance with you.”
Mother’s reaction caught me off-guard. Her eyes bulged and she spit out the water she had been drinking before coughed violently and wiped her mouth of the excess water.
I tilted my head and blinked owlishly. “Are you well, Mother? You did not drink something you should not, did you? I would hate to learn that you accidently drank something that looked like water but turned out to be hydrochloric acid, and your throat is burning out as I speak, melting the flesh within and blackening as the highly reactive chemical does its work to slay you in a positively painful and gruesome fashion. That would upset me greatly if it were to occur.”
“No ye filly, that is—!” Mother covered her mouth as she hacked some more before she could manage to speak, though this time her accent slipped into that of the average craftpony instead of her normal accent typical of the Canterlot court. “Neigh I say! I forbid it! No, absolutely not! Not in a thousand years would I allow for it!”
I was taken aback by Mother’s reaction. I could imagine a few reasons why she would reject a proposal of marriage from Daylight, but not in such a volatile manner. “But why not? He is comely enough, a skilled and highly regarded magus and knight, and by your own designs he will be an archmagus soon. Strictly speaking, he would make a fine husband.”
Mother did her best to hide it, but I still detected a shiver of revulsion from her. “Neigh! Thou art not even allowed to consider it! Because—because...” She trailed off, and she took a deep breath. When next she spoke ‘twas with her normal accent. “Because he is not an ideal match for thee. He is naturally born, for one.”
I frowned, not liking the implications of that reasoning. “Mother, I am naturally born.” This was quite curious for her. Never before had she made much of an issue over the nature of my birth or that of anypony else. She was far more concerned to how useful a pony could be to her rather than if their parents had been married.
Mother quickly shook her head. “Do not misunderstand me. How thou came into the world matters little to me, but many foolish ponies amongst the nobility do care about such things. A marriage ‘tween two naturally born ponies will seem to them a pairing of mongrels and bring neither of you much in the way of prestige. Better to have you marry a pony of an established family so that the pedigree of thy children will be without dispute.”
I pressed my lips together as I considered the point. “That does have some logic to it, though I think it exaggerated. ‘Tis not as though we will ever win over the types who hold the nature of my birth against me.” I tried not to dwell on all the insults I had heard spoken to my back over the years. Such were not pleasant memories, and I was not terribly inclined to make common cause with ponies who thought me less than a pony for my status as a bastard.
Mother stiffened ever so slightly. “Most of them, neigh, but there are a few key players I would have turned to my cause.”
I tilted my head. “Who would they be?”
Mother’s ear flicked. “Ponies whose names I would not name yet for how sensitive the issue is. Drop the subject; Daylight is not acceptable to thee. He is already mine ally and somepony whose career I have mentored for many years, so a marriage is unnecessary in any event.”
“Very well,” I conceded. Her reaction still seemed overly volatile to me, and it made me wonder if this might be somehow related to what Daylight wished to speak with me about. ‘Twas certainly possible Mother knew something I did not and was not telling me, but pressing her would only make her wroth with me, and that was not something I could particularly afford at the moment without good reason—not if I was going to avoid the terrible fate of being sent to the bog.
Mother took another deep breath and returned to her potions. “Good then. Now that aside, art thou well otherwise?”
I nodded. “Aye, for the most part. Is there a reason why I would not be?”
She shook her head before examining the cauldron. “I can think of none, but just because I know no reason does not mean it cannot exist.”
“Reasonable enough.” I waved at mine arms and armor. “I am merely working to prepare for the conclave as best I can now.”
“And thou hast done well in that regard,” Mother said. “I examined thine equipment earlier, and everything was satisfactory.”
I smiled at my mother’s praise. “My thanks, ‘tis good to hear that.”
“‘Tis only what thou dost deserve, my child,” Mother assured me as she poured some regent into the cauldron. “If thou wouldst have a new task, look to thy dueling skills. A conclave can be hazardous.”
“That is true.” I picked up a bag from the closet and pulled out a carved piece of bone from within. (1) The scrimshaw was covered in magically enchanted runes, an undercurrent of power pulsed from within them. They had not been easy to make, and each one could only be used for a specific purpose, but I knew them to be quite potent at what they were designed to do. “I remember how there were a number of duels at the last conclave.”
1. It’s not said what type of bone Midnight uses for her scrimshaw, so we can only hope that it wasn’t from a sentient being.
“And that was a conclave where we pointedly restricted such things.” Mother tsked as she pulled a jar from a nearby shelf and poured some of its contents into a beaker. “A great deal has changed. I certainly don't want magi killing each other in the streets. That said ... there are many groups who feel 'tis past time they had one of their own in power.”
I placed all my scrimshaw out on a table to make sure all of them were still accounted for. “You speak of Lady Gleaming Topaz and her supporters amongst the nobility?”
Mother nodded. “Just so. The nobles would very much like to see one of their own made an archmagus after more than a decade outside the halls of power.” She grinned. “‘Tween myself and Shadow we have kept them from any position of significance, though this conclave gives them an opportunity to change that.”
“That it would,” I agreed. “For one, an archmagus has great influence in who they can appoint to the offices below them. ‘Twould only be natural for Lady Gleaming to place her friends and supporters in places where she could repay them for their loyalty and in turn they continue to aid her.”
“And use her influence to aid other allies throughout Equestria.” Mother snorted as she watched her cauldron bubble. “‘Tis no secret that I appointed those whose ideals I agree with.”
“So they will fight hard to get one of their own as archmagus.” I frowned as I considered some of the implications. “Thus why you inquire about my dueling skills. I am your daughter and ‘tis likely they might target me to harm you.”
“Indeed so.” Mother scowled. “‘Tis not hard to imagine some foolhardy young magus seeking to please their master by targeting thee, at the very least. Then some of the more senior magi might see if they can disrupt my plans by bringing thee harm.”
“So best to make sure my dueling skills are sharp just in case,” I concluded, taking a second look at mine equipment. Suddenly it seemed all the more relevant to my life and prosperity. ‘Twas unlikely I would be slain during any duel at a conclave, but unlikely was not the same as impossible. Especially when tempers might be hot.
“Very good then.” Mother checked the temperature of her cauldron and nodded with a smile. “Wilt thou need mine aid in sparring?”
I rubbed my chin. “Mayhaps. I do not have anypony immediately available to spar with.” Even if I was not o’verly eager to spar with Mother yet again. My string of defeats at her hooves was somewhat demoralizing, even if they were but practice.
“Perhaps later today, then,” Mother said. “First I need to finish Mossy Banks’ potion.”
Satisfied with the state of mine equipment, I levitated it all back into the closet. “Would you desire any help? I have no other plans for the moment.”
“I would not object to it,” Mother said. “Come on, then. Thou canst prepare the next reagent for the brew.”
I followed Mother’s instructions, hoping all would go well for it.
I was quite tired when night fell. As was usually the case whenever I sparred with Mother, she pushed me to my limit in both skill and magical reserves. While she had said she was satisfied with my progress, it was still slightly depressing to consider that she was on another tier entirely compared to myself. Mayhaps ‘twas merely hubris on my part, for I was practicing against an archmagus, a mare decades my senior, and possibly the foremost duelist in Equestria all in one. It might be best to seek out some of my peers the next couple of days for opportunities to spar. Likely that would present a more reasonable measure of my abilities.
But such things would have to wait for the morn, for mine exhaustion demanded sleep. Though even as I headed to bed I knew rest would be some time away, at least in the traditional sense, for as I climbed in bed I cast magics that I had become quite adept at over the last year thanks to my spirit tutor. I had an appointment in the Dreamscape and I would not be tardy for it.
My consciousness was soon within the endless starry plane that was the Dreamscape. Taking a moment to orientate myself, I sought out my tutor. Distance was always a relative thing in this strange realm, for someone who knew the ways travel could be a trivial thing as long as there was no resistance.
I took a step and felt a jerk as I shifted locations to the construction Corva had made for my education. Large bookshelves flanked me while before me lay a complicated magic circle embedded in the floor. Every instrument imaginable that a magus could use, from alchemy sets to magical trinkets, were strewn on tables about the vast room. If it could be truly called a room, for there were no walls or ceiling to the place. Instead endless starry field stretched in all directions, with an intricate pattern of stars, planets, and nebulae of every imaginable color dancing above my head. ‘Twas quite the sight, though what demanded my attention was my host.
Corva sat on a black marble throne on a raised dais. The dream spirit’s feathers black as night, she projected a regal aura from her throne as she stared down her beak at me. When she spoke it was with an oddly melodious voice that was like dark silk in the night wind. “Greetings. I see thou dost not rest easily this night.”
It seemed that Corva wished to get right to business this night. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me.” A ghost of a grin showed itself at the corner of her mouth. “But I do have certain advantages there.”
“You do seem to be watching me at all times.” I approached her throne but stopped short at the stairs leading up to her. “If I am to be honest, the matter of deciding my patron has plagued my thoughts as of late, among other things.”
Corva nodded. “So I have noted. Wouldst thou have my thoughts on the matter, then?”
I shrugged. “I see no reason not to hear you out.” Corva at least offered interesting advice for my problems, thanks to her unconventional point of view.
Her head tilted slightly as she took me in. “I wonder why thou worry so much of what thy mother might choose. Art thou not a mare grown?”
“Aye, I am,” I said. “But she is my mother and an archmagus besides. It is only right I should listen to her.”
“Listen, aye, but to have her tell thee who thy patron will be is another matter entirely.” Corva stood from her throne to descend the stairs. “But this is thy patron; it should be thy choice.”
I frowned, not thinking I liked the direction of this conversation. “Defying Mother could have dreadful consequences.”
Corva stopped in front of me, her equine-like body still towering over me as she seemed to loom. “So can serving her eternally.”
I blinked slowly. “Aye? I was not planning on serving her for eternity. I would be surprised if my mother survived the century, much less for longer.”
For some reason, Corva sighed and rubbed her brow. “I meant, dost thou intend on continuing to serve her as a minion? Surely thou knowest she has naught but contempt for mere sycophants.”
I nodded. “That is true. Hardly a month goes by where she does not at some point complain about sycophants trying to vie for her favor.”
“And thinkest thou she wishes her daughter to be one?”
I frowned as I considered the question. “Neigh, of course not. Likely 'twould infuriate her.” At least ‘twas mine impression she wished for me to be a capable magus who could carry on her legacy. Some sycophant could hardly do that to the degree of success she desired.
“Just so,” she said. “If thou wouldst have her respect, it must be earned through conflict.”
My frown deepened. “You would suggest I deliberately defy her to earn her respect?” Mine ears wilted as I considered the potential consequences of such a course. “I have never outright defied Mother.”
Corva’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at me. “Is that not a problem?”
“Considering Mother could, and most likely would, make life very difficult for me if she were sufficiently wroth, aye.”
“Aye, but there is defiance, and mere independence.” Corva’s wings shifted and she walked past me. “There are degrees of defiance. I do not suggest breaking with her, merely asserting thine own rights, both for thy own sake and thine independence. Consider Morning Star: the mare has gone from naught but another subordinate to one whom thy mother treats with as an equal.”
“That much is true.” I began pacing about the floor as my thoughts raced. “I would really rather prefer not to have to be Mossy Banks' client. ‘Twould be ... difficult to defy Mother. But 'twould be good if I had her respect.”
“As I said, merely taking a patron on thine own would suffice,” Corva explained. “Thy Mother would understand, and thou wouldst gain her respect by asserting thine own will over thy life.”
I crossed my forelegs over my chest. “Then I have to decide on my patron if I am to do that.” This course sounded like it might be the right one, if I could properly manage it. I did not relish the idea of engaging in any form of conflict with Mother, but Corva was making points worth considering.
Corva smiled. “And as luck would have it, I have made a fine suggestion for thy patron.”
I raised an eyebrow as I realized who she was alluding to. “You are suggesting I pick Morning?”
She nodded. “If thou wouldst learn the ways of independence from thy mother, who better? She has asserted her own independence, and choosing her would make a statement.”
“Mayhaps,” I allowed. “Though Gale and Shadow are also independent of Mother, and neither of them would be dominated by her.”
“Aye, but Gale merely offers thee another form of servitude, and Shadow...”
I scowled up at Corva. “I am not so sure they desire a mere servant.”
Corva shook her head. “Not that, but Gale would surely make thee her creature.”
“Possibly...” In some ways, Gale was similar to Mother in how she wished to tell me what to do. Mayhaps that had something to do with her knowing me as a mere filly. Shadow probably also still viewed me as a child to a point, though that was a risk of any patron. I sighed and shook my head. “I will think on what you have told me. There is a great deal to consider here, and some of this could change a great deal in my life. ‘Tis not something to be rushed.”
“Indeed so, my friend.” Corva wrapped a wing around my back. “Though I will warn thee that thou hast no longer than the conclave to act. Thy Mother will have made up her mind by then, and better if 'twas done then in any case. What better time to show her thy independence?”
“Conclaves do have a way of being times of change.” She had a point; they were often the place where new alliances, friends, and enemies were made amongst the magi. Apprentices were declared full magi, new factions formed, and new lines drawn. Such things were inevitable when everypony was jostling to achieve their aims, up to and including becoming an archmagus. If there was ever a time to make a move, ‘twas the conclave, where Mother would be distracted and need all the supporters she could find.
“So make the change be to thy benefit,” she encouraged me.
I stroked my cheek as I thought everything over. “I will seriously consider all my options to see how best to proceed, but there is wisdom in what you say. Though such will have to be carefully managed.”
“I will help thee at every step.” Corva gave me a supportive squeeze of her wing. “Such a task is always made easier in the sharing.”
“Your help is greatly appreciated, as always.” I let out a long breath. “I will certainly need it.”
A grin spread over Corva’s features. “I have only done what I could to aid an eager student, and it has been my pleasure to teach thee.”
“I have progressed well thus far thanks to your instructions.” I found myself scowling as I considered how mine education had gone over the last month. “Even if it feels like I am making less progress in recent days.”
Corva’s head tilted slightly. “Is that so? And why is that?”
“‘Tis hard to describe.” I ran a hoof through my mane. “It feels as though I have reached a plateau of sorts. I am learning new things, but my power is not growing as it once did. Or at least it does not feel as such.”
“Ah, that.” Corva nodded. “‘Tis a similar problem all magi have sooner or later. There is a reason magi of thy age begin to seek out new instructors.”
“So Mother said.” I sighed. “I suppose there is little to be done about it, besides seeking yet more teachers.”
“Aye. Though...” Corva lifted her wing and turned to face me. “There might be another means by which I could help.”
I blinked slowly. “How so?”
Corva spread her wings, extending herself to her full height and length. “By deepening the bond between us, I might offer thee a greater amount of mine own power.”
I stiffened, a wave of caution falling over me. “Is that so? What would that entail?”
“‘Twould be quite simple,” Corva explained. “‘Twould only require but a bargain and a ritual. After which, I could give thee power equal to any magus in Equestria. I daresay thou couldst use such power, and I would be happy to give it to thee.”
“I see.” I carefully thought over my next few words. “I hope you will not be offended if I am wary of making such a bargain. Such things have a way of ending terribly for the pony involved; I would prefer not to have my soul devoured, or be enslaved, or otherwise suffer a horrifying fate that the bards would use as a warning of cautionary folly for centuries to come. Such would be foolish to me.”
Corva inclined her head. “But of course, my friend, and I would not ask such a thing from thee. I wish only the best for thee and would have no harm befall thee. ‘Tis one of the reasons why I am making this offer to thee, so that thou wilt have greater power to defend thyself and prosper.”
“It bears asking, what do you want for a bargain?” I asked. “What is it you desire? I doubt you would offer your power for nothing.”
“Ah, now that is the question.” Corva turned from me and looked up at the strange skyscape she had made. “I would have one hour of thy time every night, or seven hours over the course of a week. Such time must be spent in my company, for which we can spend as we desire.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a most generous offer.” I could certainly use more power. Who could say what I would be able to accomplish if I had Mother’s raw power? There would hardly be a magus in Equestria who could face me. I could smite monsters and warlocks, become an archmagus, accomplish any number of great works. If the price was right, that was...
Corva craned her neck so that I could see her grin. “As I said, I wish to see thee prosper. ‘Tis why I have spent these months teaching thee. Besides, I enjoy thy company; it can be quite lonely where I am, and having another soul to speak to can be quite valuable when one is more used to being alone. A friend can be all the more valuable for their company.”
“Fair enough,” I said, not entirely convinced. “I will need to think about this offer.” Rushing into a deal with a being I only relatively understood sounded like a terribly bad idea to me. Neigh, better to take some time to think it over and know what I am getting into than to risk something foolhardy.
“Understandable.” Corva turned to face me. “Take some time to think it over, and if thou hast any questions, I will be happy to answer them. Though do think it over seriously. Thou wilt not find a better offer, my friend.”
“Aye, likely so.” And something about that fact worried me.
Rest did not come easily to me after my session with Corva. ‘Tween her offer and everything else on mine mind I tossed and turned in bed. The wheels in my head kept turning and turning, and the weight of the decisions I needed to make plagued me. Eventually I abandoned sleep and rose from bed. I needed to settle some of this or else go mad. Having little luck in endlessly turning over my options over and over again, I decided what I needed was a second opinion. Or mayhaps this was the sixth or so opinion I had asked for? Whatever the case might be, a new view on the matter might be what I needed. Thinking over mine options for such, I decided on a course of action.
I put on my cloak and made my way into the nighttime streets of Canterlot. Soon enough I was before the palace and entering the home of my princess. Deciding ‘twas best not to bother the guards with my personal matters, I made my way silently into the royal quarters. (2) I disabled the wards normally placed upon Celestia’s private room, a task not too difficult for me when I had helped place many of them there to start with. By this point I was quite familiar with Mother and Her Highness’ methods for creating wards and how to deal with them.
2. Needless to say, entering the palace and sneaking into the royal quarters isn’t something you should be doing—whatever the time period might be.
Satisfied with my work, I entered the inner chambers. But instead of proceeding as normal, a web of light suddenly snapped into place around me, ensnaring me. I blinked in surprise as I suddenly found myself stuck fast to that glowing web as surely as if it were the web of a giant spider. Annoyed that I had somehow missed one of the Princess’ wards, I aimed to disable it. I winced as my horn sparked and failed to cast the desired spell, the bulk of the unused magic causing a painful reverberation.
I scowled and took some time to carefully study this ward, and I did not like what I saw: it had been made to counteract the exact magic of the pony snared by it. What is more, it seemed to be made to counter my magic specifically. That was most strange. In addition to making it a measure more difficult to build, having it made to only counter the aura of a highly specific wavelength of magic made the ward useless against everyone else. Even if ‘twas still extremely useful against that one source of magic.
More attempts to try and counteract the ward only resulted in more discomfort and failure. After an hour of escape attempts came to naught, I gave up and silently hung in Celestia’s private quarters. I could have called out for help, but that would have caused a needless commotion amongst the guards, and ‘twas not mine intention to wake Her Highness. I wished to speak with her as soon as I could, true, but I did not wish to be rude and wake her in the middle of the night.
‘Twas as the sun peeked over the horizon that Princess Celestia stepped out of her bedroom and took the sight of me in with a neutral expression. “Good Morning, Midnight.”
“Good morning, Princess Celestia,” I returned from mid air within the web of light. “It seems there is something wrong with your ward. After studying it, it seems to be triggered to react specifically to me, though I do not know why. I have visited your quarters in the middle of the night before many times without incident.”
Princess Celestia sighed and shook her head. “Yes, I cannot imagine any reason I would have wards designed specifically to prevent you from entering my room late at night.” She removed the ward holding me in place and I fell to the floor unceremoniously. “I hope you were not too terribly inconvenienced.”
I picked myself up from the floor and stretched the parts of my body that had been held still for the last few hours. “Only moderately so. Mostly I was terribly bored hanging in place with naught but my thoughts to keep me company. I had wished to ask you questions as soon as you awakened, but I instead had to wait until now to do so.”
“We might as well deal with thy questions as we break our fast.” She led the way to her private dining room. “What didst thou wish to ask of me?”
I sat opposite of her as she made an order to one of her servants. “I recently had a thought come to me, but I am not sure how viable it is.” I shuffled in place as I summoned the courage to ask about what plagued my thoughts after my talk with Corva. “I wonder if 'tis time for me to become more independent of Mother.”
“That is only natural,” Her Highness said as her tea was placed in front of her. “Children inevitably grow more independent of their parents.”
I nodded to the servant when she inquired if I wanted some tea as well. “Mayhaps. I only worry how wroth Mother will become with me. You know how upset she can be when provoked.”
She poured some honey into her tea. “I think that depends a great deal on how you do so.”
“Aye, likely so.” I sighed. “I wish for her to respect me, and 'tis not as though I am disagreeing with her over politics. Merely ... she is contemplating inflicting a most terrible of fates on me.”
Princess Celestia’s spoon froze in mid-stirring. “What has she done, Midnight?”
I leveled the most serious stare I could summon for her. “She would make Mossy Banks my patron and send me to his bog.” I shivered. “I do not wish to think of being trapped in with the dirt, mud, poison ivy, mosquitos, and other disgusting privations of such a place.”
“Ah.” Her body untensed and she smiled impishly. “So she would force you to deal with dirt?”
I sipped my tea and nodded. “Aye. Can you not see why I consider insisting on mine independence?”
“Indeed so.” Celestia placed her spoon to the side and gave me her full attention. “I think 'twould be of utmost importance to be perfectly clear with her that thou art simply seeking to develop thine own abilities and fulfill thine own potential. Thy goals remain aligned with hers, so I think she would understand if thou art firm. If ‘tis her anger that worries thee, thou shouldst know her anger takes many forms. I expect thou knowest which ones are severe and which are not.”
I sipped my tea as I considered her words. I found no fault with them and nodded. “That is true, and I have come to classify each of her types of anger: ranking them from casual ire to murderous rage, in addition to categorizing her most likely actions due to each being provoked. ‘Tis necessary to know such things when dealing with Mother.”
“Then thou canst find the best way to provoke only the milder displeasure.” Celestia smiled for a servant who placed pancakes and hashbrowns before us. “I am sure thou knowest that some of her anger hides other emotions.”
“That is true.” Where Her Highness always carried a serene expression to hide her innermost thoughts, Mother usually used her temper for the same effect. That was not a surprise when she was of a choleric temperament; maintaining a passive mask was not to her nature. “Just today I believe she hid her thoughts with anger when I suggested Magus Daylight might ask my hoof in marriage.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow, inviting me to continue.
“For some reason he wants to speak with me at the conclave, and that struck me as one reason for him to do so while Mother is around,” I explained. “‘Twas the simplest explanation I could come up with.”
Celestia took her time to answer. It made me wonder if she knew something about this that I did not.‘Tween her spies and her strange powers she always seemed to know more than anypony else. Either way, her hesitation was notable. “That ... is one possibility, though I think it unlikely.”
“Why is that?”
There was another almost imperceptible pause. “I think matters will reveal themselves in due course.”
I scowled. “That is mysterious and profoundly unhelpful.”
Once more she gave me an impish smile. “I am sure it will all turn out fine. Even if I have my doubts that Daylight is seeking a marriage with thee.”
“Mayhaps.” I frowned as I considered one of my recent conversations of my mother. “Mother is looking for a suitable match for me, though.”
Celestia inclined her head. “That is another thing that is customary for young mares of thy age.”
“So it is,” I agreed. ‘Twas hard not to note that many ponies my age were marrying about now. “Admittedly, 'twould be good to have an heir to my house as well.”
“That is doubtless thy mother's concern as well.” Her Highness spread some butter and jelly on a piece of toast. “Not to mention that marriage would likely bring thee happiness.”
I tilted my head. “You think so? When I will be marrying for politics and the advantage of my house?”
“Yes, love and companionship is no small thing,” she said. “If ‘tis a good match, love can often be found even within a political marriage. Besides, even with a political marriage ‘tis best if it is a happy union, since an unhappy marriage can destroy the goodwill intended by the marriage or even create enmity. I remember when High King Alric forced a defeated rival’s daughter to marry him so that he could claim her father’s land. In the end she raised their son to despise his father, and he lead a revolt that got the High King slain.”
“A fate to avoid, for sure.” I frowned as I cut my pancake into precise slices. “I would not object to a happy marriage filled with love, though I am no expert on love and companionship.”
“It is often difficult to understand things with which one has no experience.” Celestia’s response made me wonder if she was speaking from experience herself. “But I am sure thou wilt manage. Was there anything else?”
I nodded. “While I am here, 'twould not hurt to hear who you think I should select as my patron. Shadow, Gale, and Morning Star have all said they would accept me as their client, and Mother is thinking that I should be sent to Mossy Banks.” I grimaced and shivered at the last suggestion.
Celestia mulled over the question as she chewed on a mouthful of pancakes. “And thy mother thinks Mossy Banks would be the best choice primarily because of your hatred of dirt, correct?”
“That is so, aye,” I said, “And because he is an archmagus, admittedly.”
“Then it seems to me that the matter of patronage is not the true problem before thee,” Celestia told me. “Rather, it is that thy mother thinks she must take extreme action to end thy fear of dirt.”
I sighed and nodded. “So 'twould seem.”
Her Highness smiled. “Then if that fear is addressed...”
I studied that smile and I felt a creeping sense of dread descend over me. “You are not suggesting that I…?”
Her smile did not break in the slightest as she inclined her head.
‘Twas the next day when I enacted my most terrible of plans. Many ponies were gathering at the palace to depart either to Fillydelphia or to accompany Princess Celestia on her royal tour of the eastern coast. Multiple sky-carriages had been gathered in the courtyard to help fly the many prestigious ponies to their destinations.
While many of the gathered ponies were busy with their own final preparations, most stopped to stare at me as I made my way through the crowd. Most stepped out of my way as I made my passage, and soon I was before Her Highness, Mother, Shadow, and Gale, whom all seemed busy with a conversation that came to a stop as I neared. Mother blinked at the sight of me, and her mouth fell half open in a befuddled expression. I did not blame her for her confusion, for I was covered head to tail in mud. A layer of the wet dirt had been caked over the entirety of my body, and the sensation made my body quiver in uncontrollable revulsion. But still I pressed on with my plan, for failure would make this venture for naught and only make things worse.
Princess Celestia put on one of her unreadable smiles at the sight of me. “Sunbeam, I believe thy daughter wishes to speak.”
I did, speaking loud and clear so that there was no hint of weakness or doubt in my words. “Mother, I wished to address this dirt problem you believe I have.”
Mother was slow in replying, seemingly at a loss for words at my singular behavior. “...Is that so?”
Gale stepped up to look me over. “Midnight, art thou ... well?”
My eye twitched. “I am not physically dying at this moment, but I am covered head to hoof in a solid layer of mud. As thou canst no doubt see, such a thing is not to my preference.”
Shadow’s expression was much harder to read as she maintained her stoic calm. “And why art thou so covered in mud?”
Mother frowned as her eyes flicked over me. “Yes ... why hast thou done this thing, my child?”
I stood straighter as I declared my intentions. “To prove to Mother that mud is not a problem for me. By covering every inch of myself in the foul stuff, I prove that I can overcome my revulsion to the material. I declare I do not wish to go to Froggy Bottom Bog, where there will be more of this mud.”
Her Highness covered her mouth as she snickered, making me wonder if I might have erred in this, but I let none of my unease show on my face.
Mother’s eyes narrowed. “Explain thy reasoning.”
“You believe that my hatred of dirt is a crippling problem. So that is the primary reason you wish to send me to Mossy Banks,” I explained. “But as you can see, dirt alone will not deter me from reaching a goal I desire. My hatred of dirt is a mere preference and not a barrier to success, so there is no reason to send me to the bog merely so that I will experience dirt. If I must, I will cover myself in more dirt and mud right now to prove such is unnecessary.”
Mother cocked her head to the side and blinked slowly as she digested my logic. “I see.”
“That reasoning is ... unique,” Shadow said. “Admittedly, actions speak louder than words.”
“How else am I to prove to you my point?” I asked. “Merely saying it would not have convinced you.”
“So thou art willing to cover thyself entirely in mud just to avoid going to Mossy Banks?” Mother asked.
“I am covered in mud, neigh?” I flicked some of the foul stuff off of my leg.
Gale crossed her forelegs over her chest. “An ... interesting way to prove thy point, Midnight, but it does seem undeniably effective.”
“I see.” Mother frowned as she considered my mud-covered body. “Well, 'tis plain enough that if thou wouldst do all of this simply to avoid a few petty inconveniences, then thy fear of dirt is not so crippling as it seemed.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “That is very good to hear.” It seemed that I had avoided my terrible fate, even if it required that I cover myself in the very substance that I was trying to avoid. That paradox was not entirely lost to me.
“Now...” Mother’s gaze swept over the ponies gathered around us. “If thou couldst cease making a public spectacle? We do have to start on our journey to Fillydelphia eventually if we are not to be late for the conclave.”
I looked around as the ponies around us snickered and whispered to one another. I had a feeling ‘twould he a long time before I heard the end of this incident. “'Twould be best if I cleaned myself up—and quickly.”
Mother frowned at me. “Aye, 'twould.”
Gale giggled and shot Mother a wry grin. “Now now, 'tis naught but a little mud, Sunbeam. Thou shouldst hardly be so distressed by it.”
Celestia smiled with obvious mirth. “Sometimes we do need to get our hooves dirty in order to get things done, or so I remember being told by a certain grand vizier.”
Mother let out an exasperated sigh.