The Perilous Gestation of Swans

by kudzuhaiku


Chapter 57

As Blueblood hurried off to look after some last minute security concerns, Celestia took a deep breath so that she might calm herself. For her, this was the most important event in a long time, perhaps even more important than the royal weddings that had taken place in Canterlot. This was Luna’s restoration, her return to fine form. Even with the recent disturbance, Luna was getting better, even if it was slow, gradual improvement. All signs pointed to some major change, some massive shift in power, and Luna’s recovery was paramount.

Luna’s stars were aligning; Twilight Sparkle had become a princess; Shining Armor was now a prince; Trixie Lulamoon had been restored and was recovering herself. These were good signs, but also fearful ones, because with every day that passed, the threat of danger grew greater. Wars were breaking out, major conflicts. The great nations of the world neared collapse and almost all of them were being ripped apart from within—yet hope abounded.

“Princess… can I bend your ear for a moment?”

Whirling about, Celestia faced her beloved former student and just behind dear Twilight was Trixie Lulamoon, who shied away from eye contact. Lost in her thoughts as she was, it took Celestia a moment to recover her senses and she stood there, aloof, distracted, and without response to Twilight’s question.

“That was a pretty important security briefing, wasn’t it?” Tail flicking, ears pricked, Twilight had bright, clear eyes that twinkled bright with keen intelligence. This mare was still the starry-eyed filly attending her first day at school.

Celestia blinked and Twilight was a filly once more, a wiggly, over-eager little chatterbox that had a million questions to ask but no time to listen. Getting Twilight to slow down and listen had been the first major accomplishment—proof that Twilight had the right temperament for bigger, better things. When she blinked again, Twilight was a grown mare once more and Celestia shook her head to clear her vision.

It was happening again.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked while she cocked her head off to one side, which caused her forelock to spill off to one side of her quizzical face. “Big night, I guess. Great big bunches of distractions. In some ways, this is more important than the Grand Galloping Gala.”

“It is, Twilight, it is.” Having found her voice, Celestia composed herself and transformed into a regal, noble alicorn that bore the weight of the world upon her withers.

“Trixie and I had a quick talk and she’s too afraid to say what’s on her mind, so I offered to talk to you, princess to princess. We both think that you should be the one to speak to Sumac about the concerns raised.”

“Why is that, Twilight?”

“Because…” Twilight let out a soft, almost amused wicker. “You’re the one who wants something from him. And this is kinda important. Maybe more than kinda. So since this is something that you want from him, you should speak to him yourself. Directly.”

“Twilight—”

“Forgive me for interrupting, but I’ll be super-blunt. Trixie is a real mess right now. She’s got a lot on her mind and not just the wedding tonight. She’s not okay… not at all. The abduction and everything else weighs heavily on her mind. A number of personal, private issues have left her on edge. And to be quite honest, the last thing she needs is the additional stress of trying to coerce her son to keep a secret of this importance. Especially since you protested the use of magic to simplify things. So… speaking princess to princess… I’d say this falls on you. You want to do things the hard way… then you get to be the one doing the hard work. You’re not passing this off on us.”

Adorable little Twilight had become a bit ruthless and this pleased Celestia a great deal. So much so that she smiled. “Very well, Twilight. I shall go and have a chat with Sumac.”

“Whew!” Twilight huffed. “That went better than I thought. I’m feeling lightheaded. I’m going to find me some tea or something. Be seeing ya, princess. Thanks.”

With that, Twilight departed, coaxing Trixie along beside her with her wing.


The illusion of perfection was difficult to maintain when one’s mind was heavy with thoughts and the knowledge of this gave Gosling a greater understanding of Luna. Secrets had to be kept, but now, with more souls knowing this secret, he was left jittery for reasons he had trouble putting into thoughts or words. For the first time, he had a strong understanding of why Celestia and Luna hadn’t told him, because he too, was feeling the anxious apprehension that came with others knowing.

It was almost too much to bear.

On top of it all, some poor colt was getting dragged into this for reasons that Gosling had trouble grasping. Sorcerer powers and magic senses. If anything, magic made things more complicated. Magic was trouble. A headache. Things always went wrong with magic, you could count on that, and most of the time, if magic was involved, things went wrong in the most spectacular of ways.

Frustrated, angry, and unable to express himself, he kicked the floor.

“Trouble, Goose?”

He did not turn around to face his friend, but stood in silence, stewing. “You were there, Seville. This is getting out of hoof. Sometimes, I really hate magic.”

“So says the pony married to two magical pony princesses.”

“Talked to Hotspur and Hush?” Gosling asked, ignoring the friendly swipe from his friend.

“Yeah.” This was accompanied by a bobbing nod that Gosling did not see. “Those mugs will be working security tonight. Hush’ll be invisible and Hotspur will be dressed up in ceremonial armor. He’s gonna freeze his balls off with all that metal.”

Turning about, Gosling cast his worried gaze upon his friend and managed a cocky half-smile. “Twilight will be here. I could arrange for another dance.” He knew he struck paydirt when his friend’s face darkened and Seville’s stare fell to the floor with an almost audible clatter. For a moment, Gosling almost pressed the issue, but changed his mind. “I have to meet with the earth pony Confessor. Want to join me? Might be a story.”

“Sure, Goose. I’ll be glad to come along and make sure you behave.”

“Why I oughta…” Gosling grinned a reckless grin and his eyes turned warm, bright, and merry. “This is a historic moment, Seville. We stand on the brink of greatness, you and I—”

“And I’m positive that you can find a way to mess it up, Goose.”

Throwing his head back, Gosling laughed and much of the tightness in his withers began to melt away.


He would be taken again. Celestia’s thoughts plagued her while she lingered just outside the door. With each abduction or attempt, the problem would grow worse. Word would spread of a sorcerer. Wizards with a penchant for power would find him irresistible. Equestria’s enemies would grow bold. Rogue alchemists would want to chop him up and process him, because a great many things could be made from the assorted bits and giblets of sorcerers.

The alternative was locking him away in some place of secluded safety. What sort of life was that? It was more than doing what was right for him—there were those around him to think about. Already, the changelings had come to Ponyville, and a harpy invasion as well. This was only the beginning and with time, others would grow bold as well. Celestia had seen it with her own eyes. She had witnessed the long march of history as it progressed, and never once had the world ever been kind to sorcerers.

It was the worst sort of blessing, one that suspiciously appeared to be a curse.

This was a problem with no apparent solution, no easy answer, there was no way of knowing what to do. If the colt lived free… trouble would come knocking. If locked away somewhere—such as the former queen known as Chrysalis who was secured in the bowels of Canterlot Castle—Sumac would be somewhat safer, but at the cost of misery. This conundrum worried Celestia, because she didn’t have an answer.

She was expected to have answers to everything.

Individual liberty and the rights of the individual were thoroughly modern concepts still taking root in society. For most, this was a phenomenon that had begun to take hold just this century and in Celestia’s eyes, was something still well within its infancy. There was a time when the right thing to do was clear and well-defined; seize the colt for the good of all and lock him away. The needs of one versus the needs of many and all that. It was something that Celestia struggled mightily with, because things had been more or less the same for untold generations and then all of a sudden, there was a big shake up that made all of society stand upon its collective head.

Now, doing the right thing, the necessary thing, had become distasteful at best, and a crime to be answered for at worst. Of course, this was her fault—she placed all of the blame for this misguided notion upon herself—because she had seeded the idea in the students of her school on a whim. It was, for all intents and purposes, a psychology experiment run amok and now, all these decades later, she couldn’t be sure if she liked the outcome. Stuffing the djinn back into the bottle might prove excruciatingly difficult.

But all of that was the past and Sumac… what to do with Sumac was the future.

Already, there were those who protested that such a powerful asset be left with a Lulamoon of all ponies, and that surely, a better family could be found for guardianship. Blueblood had quite a list of dissenters and had the paperwork of those who had lodged inquiries and requests. Alas, the Lulamoon name was mud and that wouldn’t change anytime soon, at least not this generation. Perhaps the next generation would be kinder… that is, if the family had a next generation.

Ensuring the family had a next generation would require meddling to the highest degree at this point, because Trixie Lulamoon was about to settle down with two mares to form a family. This was—at most—a complication, and a minor one at that. It was something that she was certain that she could fix; she owed Trixie that because the little blue mare had suffered mightily and would continue to suffer because she was a sorcerer’s guardian.

Shaking her head, she prepared for a fine theatrical performance as she pushed her way through the door…


A joyful expression was difficult to muster, but Celestia did her best, and she pranced as though the world wasn’t on fire. Light, airy, she almost bounced with each step, acting in defiance of gravity. Hyper-focused, she ignored everypony in the room and went right for Sumac, because acknowledging anypony else might break her rigid concentration. Cracks might show. Her real feelings might be revealed.

As for the sorcerer himself, he was sitting on a comfortable couch, minding his own business, and the poor little dear had no idea that the crushing weight of a terrible secret was about to be dumped upon him. He was cute, his mane was in dire need of combing, his pelt needed a brushing, and his befuddled, bespectacled face showed signs of having just woke up.

She didn’t like how thin he was; years of hard living, too much walking, and chronic deprivation had left him slight. But as slender as he was, there was a hardness to him that most foals lacked. He had, in fact, walked the length and breadth of Equestria. Those stubby little legs had seen some miles. This colt had strolled through monster-infested wilderness and had come back to civilisation intact, whole of body.

Brushing aside the pleasantries, Celestia got right to the point. “You and I need to have a private chat.”

“We do?”

The colt was now pleasantly confused and Celestia desperately wanted to hug him, because some foals were at their most adorable when bewildered. Sumac was certainly one of them. His glasses were askew and the fine hairs of his cheek were still matted flat from sleep. He was looking up at her, she was peering down at him, and there was so little fear to be found. Sumac was going to be a disturber of the peace, of this there could be no doubt. He lacked the fear that would keep him in line.

She offered up a nod of reassurance. “We do.”

“What about?” he asked, as if he was haggling over price, aloof as ever.

“Private stuff.”

For the first time, real fear could be seen in the colt. “What kind of private stuff?”

“Sorcerer stuff… and that is all I will say in front of the others.”

“Oh.” There was a loud gulp and Celestia could see the lump sliding along the thin, fragile skin of his throat, right about the spot where his frail little neck had been broken. “Sorcerer stuff. I thought I made it clear, I’m not joining the guard. I want to be a wacky wizard that can’t remember anything, a crackpot inventor that constantly gets exploded into hairy bits, and maybe a mortician. But I plan to keep my options open. No guard duties though.”

Celestia felt the grift magic slam into her like a freight train, an attempt to disarm her. Now, she struggled to contain a laugh; this was no mere mundane humour, but the colt’s words carried the crushing bludgeon of magic with each syllable, and his mouth had uttered many syllables. He was sincerely funny, he had a sharp wit to him, but the added magic would be downright devastating to most ponies. Sleet was snickering and sounded as though she was having trouble breathing. Lurking laughter threatened to tear Celestia apart and it became a contest of wills to hold everything in. His magic was far too strong and Celestia surmised that this potency manifested early in his life as a defense mechanism of sorts.

For a moment, the lightheadedness of fighting back the laughter was almost too much to bear…

“Come away with me, Sumac, so that we might talk.”