I kept walking.
Magick’s annoying words ran through my head. Reflect on what I’ve done. Reflect on what I’ve done? I’ve done nothing!
How many “Princes” and “Princesses” had come before me? Was Princess Cadence serving a similar purpose? Why would any pony ever agree to such a thing? It was madness. Stupid, senseless madness.
A couple on a brisk walk in the fall night air steered well clear of me as I stormed down the street with no particular destination in mind. My steps took me to one of Canterlot’s larger parks and I went down the pathways illuminated by tall, ornate street lamps. I passed a unicorn wrapped in a scarf perched on a bench reading a book, her horn lighting the pages. A trio of earth ponies crossed paths with me, talking excitedly about the Canterlot Symphony’s performance earlier that night.
Why, the whole idea was absolutely idiotic: set up a pony to save Princess Celestia the trouble of dealing with uprisings by making ambitious ponies not want to be royalty? Excellent, because of course nopony wants to deal with the biggest jerk on the face of the planet, let alone be related to him. Stupid, stupid, stupid plan. There had to be a better way. For Sun’s sake, why not simply let the ponies depose Princess Celestia? Let Equestria be torn about by civil war and unrest, friend turned against friend, lovers parted, foals raised under a shadow of chaos and uncertainty and death. Foals and families and the future falling prey to that shadow. Maybe we’d had too much peace and we needed a reminder.
If what Magick said about belief in Celestia was true, then we would get that reminder as the Princess’ power waned and all her spells started to come undone.
I could only keep up the vitriolic ranting in my head for so long. Eventually it fell quiet. My feet took me through the city, past the galleries and shops long since closed, across dimly lit alleys and light leaking through closed blinds, through the low thrum of music and clinking of glasses at late night bars. Around me ponies went on with their lives, oblivious to everything outside their own tiny spheres.
I found myself near the military district, knocking on a door.
My father opened it and stared in surprise. “Blue? What are you doing here? Well don’t just stand there son, come in, come in.”
I sighed and hung my head as I came through the doorway. “Sorry father, I should have sent a messenger first but, well, I found myself in the area.”
“No need to be so formal about it. Your mother and I hardly get to see you enough as it is, not since Princess Celestia told us about what happened to your...” my father hesitated over how to say it, “other parents. We were sure surprised to hear you’d inherited royal magic as the result of their last wish.”
“Oh,” I said. So that was the story they’d been told. Two royal unicorns dying on a battlefield make a desperate wish and cast their magic into the aether, and it latches onto me.
My father wrapped a hoof around my shoulders. “No matter what you’re still our son. Doesn’t matter where your magic came from.”
“Do you mind if I stay here for the night?” I could not face that mansion again.
“Oh, well, of course," he said, surprised. “I’ll go make sure the guest room is in good condition. In the meantime you should go let your mom know you’re here. She’s in the living room.” He paused to mull over my sudden arrival. “You’re not in any sort of trouble are you? You look tired.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Two ponies at home, living happy and comfortable lives, and me.
A new day and a clear mind.
After breakfast I said goodbye, but instead of calling a carriage I walked through the city again and got lost in the morning routine. Pegasi flew in from Cloudsdale early to get a head start on the day’s weather patterns. A stallion sang a bright tune under his breath while trimming the hedges around one of the shops.
The sound of my slow hoofbeats was covered by the world around me. Aspiring students struggled to carry all of their supplies without spilling them over the white flagstones. Two guards stood like statues in front of one of the gates to Canterlot Castle. A businessmare glanced at her watch while she stood in front of a coffee shop and a colt scrambled past her, dragged on by a pack of excited dogs on leashes.
Canterlot was vibrant, alive, living in blissful ignorance on top of forgotten history packed like so much dirt under the alabaster stones on which ponies tread.
I was moving faster now, trotting down the lane. Smartly dressed ponies put out tables and chairs in front of cafés right in time for the early bird pegasi to sweep down and land gracefully in the open seats. On the path two fillies ran after their parents, jumping as high as they could to reach saddlebags their father held suspended in the air, just out of reach. Laughter.
I galloped.
The envelope was still sitting on Magick’s desk and the sands in the hourglass continued to flow upward. My arrival did not disturb the Headmistress, who was bent over a letter with a quill and ink. Not until she finished the sentence did she drop the plume into the inkwell and look up.
Maybe you were expecting some huge turn of events to make me change my mind, but in the end all I was thinking about was ponies going about their everyday lives.
Magick made no comment about my return. She acted as if nothing had happened. “Prince Blueblood, could you summon your dragon please?”
I blinked. “You can’t possibly mean that illusion I conjured up years ago? No, never mind, of course.” It was better not to question.
The spell was so easy I flinched in surprise to see the creature swimming in the air. Its golden whiskers drifted in rhythm to some invisible force and its curious eyes of blue flame burned bright. The snakelike dragon perched on the edge of Magick’s desk, as regal and intelligent looking as Celestia’s own Philomena.
Magick rolled up her letter. “If you would be so kind, hold on to that spell. This is correspondence to Princess Celestia regarding the entrance exam to her school.” The ethereal dragon turned its head and I watched Magick hold the letter out. It opened its mouth and spit cerulean flame, burning the letter to a crisp from top to bottom. Not even ashes remained.
I gaped.
Magick waited. “Give it a minute.”
True to her word, a moment later the dragon curved its neck backward as if preparing to take a bite out of Magick’s desk. Its head shot forward and a rocket of flame erupted from its mouth. The flames swirled into a circle and burst, revealing a rolled scroll with the golden C seal on it. Magick caught the document as it fell.
I held the magical link to the dragon. It yawned of its own accord and ignored my demanding voice directed at Magick. “You’re telling me I could have been doing this the whole time? What was that?”
“A direct line of communication to the Princess. If you are asking about the particular quality of magic, it exists in the realm of sending, opposite teleportation, and it is common to dragons. Usually it’s used on scrolls, but it will work with anything you can burn – minus the living, of course. To them it just burns.”
“So I could send letters to you, or anypony else I know?”
“For you, with practice that is likely possible.”
“Why does the spell take the form of a dragon?”
“He can hear you, you know. It’s not uncommon for higher level spellcasters to have a familiar: someone who chooses to aid them. Philomena is not just the Princess’ pet, you know. As to why yours is a magical phenomenon, that is a mystery even to me.”
Magical phenomena encompass a wide variety of creatures, including windigos, ghosts and timberwolves. They are sentient. The key difference is magical phenomena are not born from breeding, but from incredibly concentrated magic or emotion. Call them spirits, if you will.
I was startled. “Oh, erm, I suppose I should say thank you, then,” I told the dragon. “For this and the time before.”
The magical creature waved its spaded tail as if to say it was no big deal. I felt the link sever itself and the wisps of purple and gold outlining the dragon’s form dispersed into the air and disappeared.
I was still immersed in wonder at what had happened when Magick passed me the envelope. “This is for you.” Inside was a writ from Princess Celestia giving a certain Prince Blueblood unrestricted access to the Canterlot Archives. “As of now you are the true Prince of Equestria, and I free you to do whatever you wish. Should you require guidance – which I’ve no doubt you will – you may contact me via your familiar.”
The school master let out a long breath. Weariness slipped into her voice. “I know my ways are harsh, and I wonder if things might have turned out differently for you had it been Princess Celestia who took you under her wing. Perhaps it is for the best. These days trickery and deceit are almost nonexistent in the Princess’ repertoire. She would not know a Changeling if it was her closest advisor.”
Magick sighed and regained her strict composure. “Before you go, I have a task for you. I mentioned the entrance exam earlier, and I am one examiner short of four. Would you mind taking that place next week?”
I agreed.
Not once did Magick bring up the reason I returned to her office. She knew I was going to come back for one reason or another. Her ability to know how events would fall into place was uncanny. Before I left, I had to know.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Or perhaps the more appropriate question is: who were you?"
"A pony," she said. "A pony, just like you used to be."