The next several days of the trip were, thankfully, without similar incidents. Though the encounter with Galahad had left her sore, by that evening, when Night returned from his poker escapades, Velvet had recovered enough that she thought she might try out the ship’s fitness center, among other things. While Night was at first concerned once he learned what had happened to her, in the end he couldn’t stop her from heading out the next day in search of something to get her blood pumping.
She tried to pace herself so that she didn’t complete her itinerary too quickly. One day, she ran a few miles on the ship’s set of treadmills; she swam a few laps in the pool—an odd feature, one she didn’t question out loud—on another. She climbed the rockwall, tried the yoga class, and attended a magic performance at the Grand Galloping Saloon. The magician reminded her a bit too much of Canterlot snobbery, but she supposed it was all part of the act.
In her downtime, she returned to her room where a familiar sight always met her: the table by the window and the unfinished letter that accompanied it. Even if she ignored the question of how to start it, she had no idea what to put into the letter. It wasn’t because she had nothing to say; rather, it was because she had too much to say.
At least, she tried to convince herself that was the reason. It was more a reason and an excuse. She needed something to explain her stutterings, or lack thereof. Otherwise… well, otherwise, what would that mean? That she couldn’t talk to her daughter? If a letter was so hard, what about being with her in-person? Would it prove just as difficult? Was this a sign that something had changed within her, or between them, which only showed itself in her inability to write?
She tried not to think about those questions, busying herself with the Regent and what it had to offer. But eventually she ran out of things to do. Sometimes she thought about the pegasus and Galahad. It was a welcome break without an answer. She hadn’t seen them since the incident. How were they? Maybe she shouldn’t have left as she had.
And anytime she was in her room, the blank paper taunted her. The questions soon followed.
Finally, on the sixth day of the voyage, she’d had enough.
She woke early but wasn’t hungry. Bingo night had run late previously, so Night didn’t stir alongside her. The thermostat attached to the window told her it was a cool day. She dug around her suitcase for the scarf and coat and pulled both over her body.
Because she wasn’t hungry, she let herself wander around for a bit. In time she reached the main deck, but rather than stay in the lounge, she kept going until she was outside, on the ship’s bow.
The sun had yet to fully rise, and a thin blanket of ocean fog made everything look cool and gray. She came to the edge of the deck and stopped, looking at the silver sky, the waves rolling back and forth, the clouds that looked like they were about to cry. In the distance she could make out an archipelago of southern Equestria, populated by lush green hills, rocky coves, and sandy beaches so white they seemed to pierce through the fog. The riverboat was traveling so slowly, so comfortably, that as Velvet looked at the land and sea, they seemed to hypnotize her.
It occurred to her that this was the farthest from land she’d ever been. She’d never thought she’d travel this far, on a riverboat to the sea.
“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Velvet jumped.
Frigid Waters.
She was wearing a black-and-white dress with a shawl wrapped around her head. That was the only thing about her that had changed. She still wore her frown and her eyes still held that immense displeasure for anything. Velvet hadn’t even heard her approach.
“What?” she asked dumbly.
Frigid didn’t appear any more displeased by that. She joined Velvet in looking over the edge at the white beaches. “Look at that,” she said, raising a hoof. “Untouched land. Pristine, almost. You wouldn’t see something like that in most of Equestria these days.”
“Well, I’m sure there are nice resorts. In fact, there’s one near Las Pegasus—”
“I’m not talking about resorts. Don’t be daft.”
Velvet bit her tongue. Better to let old mares say whatever they had to say.
“Those beaches aren’t like resorts. You can tell at a glance, they’re nothing alike. No buildings. No towers. No huts, even, at least not yet, and also not yet: no roads, train tracks, landing strips for balloons or blimps. How long do you think that’ll last? How long do you think before some tycoon gets it into his big head that those beaches ought to become a coastal city? How long before they’re another port, and how long, do you think, before another Equestrian Regent sets off on another maiden voyage?”
Velvet didn’t answer. She hadn’t expected Frigid to be so… well, she’d say ecologically conscious, but she wasn’t even sure that was what Frigid meant.
She thought she might continue, but Frigid stepped away from the edge, scowling. “Heard there was a griffon kid aboard. Isn’t that a surprise? That one would ever be allowed.”
“You say that as though a griffon is some kind of wild animal,” Velvet said before she could stop herself.
Frigid didn’t protest. She just shrugged. “I’m old enough to remember when our relations were poor and the frontier was violent. There’s a reason why Griffonstone was isolated for so long. A good reason.”
She looked directly at Velvet. Something about her scowl dropped away. “But to think that a griffon could be on a boat with ponies… I’d never thought to see that in my lifetime. How’s your chest?”
Velvet started. “How did you—”
“I heard about it. It may be a big ship, but word gets around. Especially when there’s a tiny predator on board running into ponies.”
“He’s just a kid.”
“Sure. A kid that could tear you apart if he got angry enough.”
Velvet called upon all of her Canterlot social prowess to avoid shouting at Frigid. “If you came here just to talk this way about somecreature neither of us even know—”
“I didn’t, actually. I wanted to talk about you. Specifically why you’re on this trip.”
Another abrupt conversation change. Velvet supposed that was to be expected with a mare like Frigid. She just wanted to command conversations as she saw fit. But if it meant that the heated topic would be avoided, by all means. “It’s our vacation.”
“Ah. A vacation away from, what, exactly?”
“Why do ponies take vacations?”
“Why do ponies take vacations? But you’re no ordinary pony, Twilight Velvet.” Frigid’s smile seemed… well, frigid, but something akin to amusement was also there. “Mother of Her Royal Highness must have its perks.”
“Less than you’d think,” Velvet muttered. “Why do you bring this up? You don’t strike me as the type who’d want an autograph.”
“You’re not wrong.” She was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I’m just surprised that you’re on this boat. Not exactly a luxury liner befitting a new member of royalty… well, not quite the traditional member, but you understand.”
“Why do you care?” It came out more acidic than Velvet wanted. She bit her lip and forced herself to look at the beaches again.
Frigid shrugged. “Call it an old mare’s curiosity. Or meddling. They’re the same when you get to my age. And you stop giving a darn way earlier, believe me.”
When it was quiet again, Velvet realized that Frigid had no intention of leaving—not until she received an answer. Velvet supposed there wasn’t much harm in giving one.
But then she found out alarmingly quickly that she didn’t have one with her. Why was she on this riverboat? It was something Night suggested they do, but there was more to it than that. The Regent presented something to her: an opportunity, but for what?
“I guess…” Velvet felt silly, but tried to push through. “I guess I just… wanted to get away for a time.”
Frigid nodded as though this was completely normal. “Away from the spotlight. I can relate.”
“Sure, I guess. I mean, if that’s how you look at it.” Velvet blinked. “Wait. What do you mean, you can relate?”
Frigid barked out a laugh. It was mirthless, but strangely also without bitterness—a hollow sound one made when they saw fit to fill a space. “It might not be the same, but thanks to my husband and his exploits, I know a little about the curse of the limelight.”
Frigid returned to looking at the sea. The wind picked up a little. “Ten years ago, one wouldn’t have thought a pony could open business with the griffons, the Changelings, or the dragons. Anypony who thought they could were considered as crazy as those who believed in old prophecies—including that of Nightmare Moon’s return.” Here, she looked pointedly at Velvet. “Cobalt was one of those ponies. Did he tell you about his restaurant business?”
“I believe so…”
“I won’t get mad if you say you weren’t listening. It’s dull sometimes. But, look. He thought that the way to peace with those creatures might be the same way as to their heart: through their stomach. The restaurant world laughed at him, said that there was a bigger chance of Princess Celestia abdicating than him setting up a restaurant for dragons. Nopony believed him when he said it could be possible with just the right factors.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Of course I did. I’m his wife. What else am I supposed to do, call him crazy and lock him up? No, I believed and supported him, and when he started getting the documentation needed to push his restaurants into those lands, I dipped my hoof into my inheritance to keep ourselves afloat. Cobalt would never admit it, but we were in the red for a few years. It was only through luck and favors he never had to close things.”
“Yes. He told us about how much you helped.”
“Did he?” Frigid raised her eyebrows. “I suppose I never kept it a secret, but he never mentioned it to me…” For a moment she trailed. There was a splash of color on her cheeks that faded when she cleared her throat.
“Last year, it finally happened. With ambassadors making relations between our nations easier, Cobalt was able to jump on his idea and start his very own international restaurant business.”
“You must be really happy for him, then.”
“Ecstatic,” Frigid said dryly. “It only took a decade and many sleepless nights. Optimism doesn’t pay the bills, but some ponies have nothing else to keep them going.” She paused, then added in a demure voice, “I suppose that’s what I love the most about him.
“But my point,” she continued, “is that it wouldn’t have been possible without certain factors. Namely: a new, pony-friendly Dragon Lord; a reformed Changeling race; and a griffon friendship ambassador who answered directly to one of the teachers at a certain School of Friendship—which has a group of six ponies who once bore a set of powerful artifacts, one of which belongs to a certain alicorn princess, who recently ascended to become the most powerful pony in Equestria. I suppose I should thank you.” Frigid looked at her. “You must be so proud.”
Her tone was murky, but Velvet believed she didn’t sound necessarily sardonic or mocking. She was just stating the truth. “Do you have any kids yourself?”
“I do. Two, in fact. One’s a train engineer for the Equestrian railway system. The other works in Manehattan as an accountant.” She scrunched up her face. “I didn’t expect either to fall into their line of work, but I guess that’s just how life is.”
“Yeah,” Velvet said quietly, “I guess…”
Around them, the ship was beginning to awaken. Some gulls flocked to the posts and squawked at them.
“Ten years ago,” Frigid said. She sounded almost whimsical. “Ten years ago, none of this would have been possible. But all it took was a year for things to align for Cobalt. For the world to reach out with a long stick and change everything. Now he’s bought us two tickets for this silly riverboat thing. But I suppose I’ll entertain the trip a little while longer; Celestia knows he deserves it.” She paused, then added, “All in a short period of time. Makes you wonder.”
“Makes me wonder what?”
“What else will change. How quickly. If Equestria will be ready. If we’ll be.”
She fell silent again. The wind stampeded against her shawl, exposing a mane colored light-lavender and lily-white. Velvet’s heart skipped a beat. It was like looking at an older version of herself.
“Maybe we’ll call those beaches something like ‘Maretime Bay.’” Frigid snorted. “But maybe even that’s too much for the world.”
And for some reason, she must have thought that was all that needed to be said, for she turned and trotted away before Velvet could reply.
Velvet looked across the edge at those beaches again. But the riverboat had traveled too far. They were blurry smudges in the fog.