//------------------------------// // Second Chances // Story: A Wake of Mist and Flame // by heliopause //------------------------------// The Palace’s southern gate never looked so inviting. Today’s excursion had been one of the longest he could recall—they were usually back much earlier—and it had been filled with errors from start to end. Celestia’s Fairy Tears bouquet still there, arranged in its decorative wall sconce, now gently mocking him with the first pinpricks of light leaking from the petals’ edges. They probably had under an hour of life left before they wilted and died, giving off a dazzling light show in the process. Celestia wrapped the flowers in a spell and carried them up the stairs to the royal chambers. Why had she cut them this morning? It would be one more mystery he would never solve. Handing in his resignation was the best option, all things considered. Instead of firing him, Celestia had used today to show him his limitations and give him the opportunity to resign with dignity. And if he left the service, he wouldn’t have to explain himself to— ”P-Princess Luna,” he stammered. For here she was, standing before him in the Royal Suite: the one pony he had hoped to avoid. He froze, uncertain what to do as the midnight alicorn blinked back at him. Before he could react, Celestia charged forward. “Dear sister! How are you this evening?” Luna flashed a wan smile. At least she wasn’t in one of her moods. “I am well, Celestia. In fact I—” “That’s wonderful,” Celestia said. “Do you know, I just got back from Grandgait, and there’s a new rumor there that you enjoy turning ponies into spiders!” Darrilon tried to merge with the wall behind him. Whatever good humor Luna had evaporated, and the chamber seemed to darken. “Celestia, why dost thou persist in spreading these scurrilous rumors? My reputation is but newly mended, and yet here you are tearing its cloth anew.” “Me? I didn’t say anything. It was… it was the Solarian Captain!” Luna glanced over at him, and he found himself paralyzed, although whether it was the start of some foul spell, or simple fear, he couldn’t tell. But just as quickly Luna dismissed him with a tiny snort, and returned her accusing gaze to meet her sister’s smirk. “Honestly, Celestia. You lack even the scintilla of maturity necessary to take responsibility for your own childish pranks.” She gathered her dignity and sauntered from the room in a cool and elegant four-beat gait, but couldn’t resist a parting comment. “That you are the elder sister is an accident of birth and nothing more.” Once she was gone, Darrilon found he could once again speak. “Ma’am, I… I…” “You’re welcome, Captain,” said Celestia. She had saved him. That had been his last hope, that he could somehow patch things up with Luna. But when confronted with her face to face, he froze. He had been unable to even begin an apology, and Celestia had had to come in to rescue him. His post outside her door stood waiting for him. To take up that post felt like an admission of defeat. “Ma’am, about today, I…” She turned and looked at him, expectantly. Unable to meet her gaze, Darrilon glanced out the window. But it was full dark out, and he only saw his own reflection, a white stallion floating in a sea of infinite black. The trials of the day had taken their toll on his coat and mane. His mark, his precious kite shield reflecting a quarter sun, seemed sullied by the dirt and grime. “If I could just have one last chance. A chance to prove myself.” Celestia’s expression softened a bit as she seemed to take pity on him. She floated the bouquet of Fairy’s Tears over to him, and he took them, puzzled at their ultimate meaning. “These flowers are for somepony special, Captain. I need you to deliver them for me. Can you figure out who they’re meant for?” Darrilon had no idea. But it didn’t matter. She was giving him another chance! A test, a puzzle for him to solve. Celestia looked over at the official hourglass, measuring out his remaining shift in grains of sand. “If you take your post, Captain, and think it over, I’m sure it will come to you. In fact, I’m certain the Captain of the Solarian Patrol has all the clues he should need to solve that riddle before his shift ends.” So, if he could figure out who the flowers were meant for before the hourglass ran out, he would keep his position. It was his very last chance. A thin lifeline indeed, but Darrilon would take it. “Very well, ma’am. Will that be all for tonight?” “Yes, Captain. There is one last thing I need to take care of, but I won’t require your assistance for that. Good night. And… good luck.” Celestia closed her door, leaving Darrilon effectively alone at his post. The light inside her chambers switched on, leaking out from under the door and puddling over his rear hooves. Darrilon resisted the urge to pace. He had about thirty minutes before his shift ended. Thirty minutes to figure out who the flowers were meant for; thirty minutes to come up with an answer and save his job. He started by reviewing every member of the palace staff. He had, in the practice of his normal duties, committed to memory a list of every pony who worked at the castle, both day and night shift. Most of them he was able to dismiss because he couldn’t imagine any plausible interest they could have for a bouquet of flowers, no matter how exquisite. Of the ones remaining, not many would have the knowledge to recognize the Fairy’s Tears as something out of the ordinary. Groats, the palace gardener, knew, of course. But he had been there and had seen the Princess cut those blossoms. It was a minor inconvenience for him, at most. Darrilon couldn’t see how Groats could be the answer. If Celestia wanted to annoy her gardener she could choose a dozen more effective ways. He made it through the entire roster without finding a clear suspect, so he started to go through to the ponies on the admissions list, the ones who were scheduled to visit today. Could it be that some pilgrim needed an inspiring gift that would spark them to become a great artist, perhaps? It didn’t make sense. Celestia had said, “it will come to you,” and implied that he already had enough information to figure it out, if he could only put it all together. Think! Only a few minutes remained before his shift ended—and his career with it. Perhaps he really was getting too slow for this job. His skull felt like it was filled with leftover pudding.  He must have missed somepony while working from memory; he needed to take notes. Rummaging through his saddlebags, he pulled out the Trottington light show invitation. Now if he could just find a quill— The bouquet of Fairy’s Tears burst into a euphonic chord of light. His time was up. Ember Snap, coming to relieve him for the night shift, appeared at the top of the stairs. Her eyes were wide, dazzled by the magic flowers he was holding, and her usually sarcastic mien now showed a puzzled smile as she came up to him for their ritual changing of the guard. It will come to you. Oh, Celestia. He held out the flowers to Ember, who looked surprised—and impressed. “These are for you,” he told her. And then he figured it out. Celestia had planned it all down to the last detail. He thought he knew her, knew her tricks, her little manipulations—but she was still, always, one step ahead of him. What did he have? He had a day off, a bouquet of flowers, and tickets to a show. All day long, he had been worried that Celestia was going to fire him, when what she was really doing was setting him up on a date.  “Captain Darrilon,” she said, “I had no idea you were such a romantic.” Darrilon coughed. “Neither did I.” She made a show of signing the duty roster. “You know, with our schedules the way they are, we never have a chance to hang out and talk.” He scuffed his hooves on the floor and looked down at the semicircle of light he was standing in. Celestia had laid her traps and snared him perfectly, but now it was his moment. He thought about Whitewater and the decision she had to make. Was Celestia somehow watching him, even now? She had delivered him, here, to this one perfect moment. He could still say no, and walk away. He took a breath. “Actually, Ember, my schedule’s changed. I have next Tuesday off.” Her face brightened. “Really? I’ve heard Trottington has this amazing new light show. But the tickets are impossible to get.” Darrilon laughed. Ember peered at him oddly, but he couldn’t help it.  “As it happens, I have two tickets to Tuesday’s show. Opening night. Would you care to join me?” Ember twirled the Fairy’s Tears bouquet around, casually creating a spectacular interplay of shadows on the walls and ceiling. “I’ll be looking forward to it all week.”   After he had signed out on the duty roster and before he collapsed into bed, Darrilon had one last task. He had to inform Thistlefell she’ll be covering for him on the best job in Equestria. Darrilon tried to remember the last vacation he’d taken, but it must have been before he made Captain. Thistlefell would be overjoyed when he broke the news, of course. That poor mare. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. With the long day behind him, and his day off to look forward to, Darrilon felt a lightness of spirit he hadn’t known he’d been missing. This whole day had been one misstep after another: jumping to conclusions, making hasty decisions, worrying over nothing. It wasn’t like him at all. He should have been able to see what Celestia was up to, except that he’d been off-stride ever since this morning, when he found that grey hair— Darrilon froze as a terrible thought occurred to him. Could she be responsible for that? He wouldn’t put it past her, and the curiosity burned at him. He turned back to look at Canterlot Castle, counted the windows up the tower to find Celestia’s room, and saw her light was still on. “Did you do that to me?” he wondered aloud. “Did you plant that grey hair on my hair brush, just to rattle me?” The light in Celestia’s window winked out.