//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Choice // Story: Melancholy Days // by Zurock //------------------------------// "You don't need to walk so far behind me," Princess Celestia courteously recommended. James picked up the pace of his steps until he was striding by her side. He had been following several steps behind her as they traveled down different castle corridors, with high ceilings, and exquisite carpets, and posted guards. "I'm sorry, Princess," he apologized as he caught up and matched her speed. "That's quite alright," the Princess said with crumbs of laughter. She let the footsteps and hoofbeats dominate the soundscape for a minute while her sideways glance searched him. The only hint of expression on her was a tiny smile which never faded. At last she casually asked, "It hasn't been terribly long since we last spoke, but how are you?" With no guesses as to the Princess's true aims, nor predictions about the direction this was headed, he answered the only way he could: "I'm fine, Your Highness." "I hope so," she replied. "After such a transition, the first days are undoubtedly the hardest." "If I may ask, Princess, what makes you say that?" James requested, subtly curious. Princess Celestia gazed off into the past and explained, "When my sister at last returned from her long banishment, all of Equestria had changed from what she had previously known. So not only did she have to rediscover her place amongst ponies but she had to do it in a new world where she herself had only ever been an old ponies' tale." She looked emphatically at him. "It has been quite a challenge for her." "Sister?" he mulled. Some mythical knowledge that he had gleamed from Twilight's books quickly jumped to the forefront of his mind. "Nightma- I mean, Princess Luna." "Yes," Princess Celestia confirmed. "What you face is similar in its own way." "In its own way," James repeated warily. But he shook his head, saying, "Your Highness, if I may say, Princess Luna was coming out of some... one thousand year exile? That's not quite the same thing. I mean, for as many similarities as there might be, there are big differences." Nodding with agreement, the Princess told him, "Yes, that is very true. Not the least of those differences is that you are not her and she is not you. But, to you, does that mean her experiences couldn't apply?" "Maybe," he muttered, but after a moment of thought he formed his opinion, suggesting, "I suppose it's possible. Learning is a matter of drawing out what you think is useful from the lessons of the world and then applying it. So maybe there could be something useful I could take from her experiences, something to learn, even with our differences." Suddenly remiss, he tacked on his forgotten formality, "Erm, Your Highness." "Good insight," she commended. Her voice then shifted from praising to perspicacious; a teacherly tone that tried to inspire answers. "Is that all, though? My sister's experiences are a resource to be mined?" James tarried on responding, unable to decide if her question was some manner of test or if the sheer honesty and encouragement in her voice indicated only some kind of knowledgeable altruism. With hesitant reserve, he gave what he thought would at least be the most forthright answer: "I'm sorry, Princess. I don't think I see what you're getting at. I don't know Princess Luna." "That's quite alright," Princess Celestia laughed, greatly amused by his having thrown in an unnecessary and formal apology. Then, still guiding, she continued, "What I'm getting at is: could there be more to what you two might share than just what you could learn from it? Is there something more to be gained?" He thought, but he couldn't offer an answer. When his silence became clear, she said, "You've been focused inward. Tightly controlling what can come in from the outside. That's alright. Some answers, and some comforts, do come from inside, and not always immediately. But if you'd like you could speak with my sister. I think you both would enjoy it." The suggestion of adding another complication onto this whole mess of things he almost wished would just disappear was immediately distasteful to him and, dry of commitment, he mumbled, "Perhaps..." "Perhaps," repeated the Princess curiously before she returned to silence. They rounded another corner and thereafter stepped through a doorway into a small, lightly decorated room. There was a simple table with quills and paper, a dim, ashy, and unlit hearth, some bookshelves, and more than one comfortable looking spot to set down. It was a lounge or study of some kind. The far wall was composed entirely of folding glass doors behind heavy, drawn back curtains held in place with thick golden-colored rope; a windowed wall to the outside from which the carved balustrade of a balcony could be seen and the delicately amber sunlight streamed in at an angle. Princess Celestia did not stop upon entering. She magically opened the doors to the balcony, stepping out onto it with the man. The platform was perched low on one of the castle towers but it still gave them a view over a swath of Canterlot. Standing side by side, a few paces apart, they looked down upon the city. Again, the contrary harmony of the city called out to James. The place breathed complete reconciliation with all things. He looked at the Princess, who stared out over the rail, and it felt like she was waiting for him to offer a thought. There wasn't a pressure that came from her; no rigid spirit of authority which haunted him for answers nor a demanding demeanor which expected specific details. Only some unseen eagerness that looked forward to whatever he had to say, whether it was an old idea or new. Since he had arrived in Equestria there had been this image in his head of who this Princess was. A picture had come to him which represented her being. It had been distorted at first, blurred by his overwhelmed senses after having had jumped dimensions, but each day that had gone by had tweaked that image a little bit more. He had been learning about her from many sources: pony, and book, and experience. And as he had gained those insights he had made adjustments which steadily had brought that picture into focus. Only upon meeting her now again he saw that it was a narrow and wrong image anyway. What this Princess was... was something different. Loosening up, his excess formality seemed to fall right out of him. The respect in him changed to one not based in response to authority but rather relaxed camaraderie, like meeting a warm stranger in a homely bar whose enticing talk and tales invited passing friendship. Without thinking too deeply about what he was saying, he idly told the Princess, "... You're not who I thought you were." "Oh?" she giggled. "Quite honestly, I thought the same thing about you shortly after we first met." Then, clearly intrigued, she asked, "So, who did you believe I was?" Crossing his arms, James gazed down in thought. "The boss, I guess. I mean, maybe it would be better to say that you're in charge in a way that... hm..." He took a moment longer before solidly saying, "You don't lead in a way I would have expected." "Did you believe I would lead by force?" Princess Celestia asked with utter honesty. "No, not at all. I mean, that would have been a bad sign straight up," he replied. "Domination typically doesn't last, you know? You apply force, then at some point, inevitably, you're just going to get force back. There definitely are times that require a forceful leadership... times for something harder... something strong... like, standing up to make a tough decision, come what may, but that's not the whole of it," he reasoned. His mind searched through all he knew; his personal history, world history, and more, and he opined, "A good leader, like, an actual good leader, is as much an inspiration as a decider. And... well, I guess that's where your choice came from. From just trying to set the example. I'm just... surprised to see it in this matter, I think." "This matter?" she asked. "Me," he pointed to himself. Now greatly enthralled, she responded, "I see. And how do you believe I should have handled your coming?" For a moment it felt like she was interviewing him all over again, with her peppering of questions. But it was so cordial and removed from tension that the feeling quickly passed. He said, "I guess... with more caution, really. You were awfully quick to trust me." His surprise at that decision was one thing that hadn't dimmed with time. And it wasn't quite a good feeling of surprise either, despite what it meant for him personally. "I would have thought you'd quickly and strictly come down against me. You certainly had every reason to. To be worried about what I could be. To be suspicious about what I could bring. And one life versus that possible risk to Equestria? Why chance it?" Though it was rhetorical, he answered the question himself, "I guess I get now that you chose a road of leading by example. That by taking a stand for trust and compassion you're setting the example for all those who look up to you. It's just... that was a really huge risk to take." "So I should have not trusted you then?" Princess Celestia remarked in amusement. With a thin smile, James rolled his eyes and replied, "I'm using myself as an example. You know I mean it all in a broader sense." "I know," she confirmed with laughter. But then she soberly followed up, "I did take your arrival seriously. Very seriously. It only didn't take me long to come to a final judgment." Her response was blended with both a cool relief and a somber nature which left no doubt in him about how gravely she must have considered the matter. But it escaped his imagination how she could have reached such a decision so immediately, and he asked her openly, "Why? How was it a quick decision?" "Why do you believe it was?" the Princess instantly returned, once more joyfully smarmy. Now James felt the first taps of frustration with her mirror of questions. He didn't have an answer to begin with, which was why he had asked her, but now he almost didn't want to continue this line of thinking, if only from some gurgling, twisted sense of spite. He tried to circle his way around her question, asking, "What if somebody else had come through who wasn't like me? Somebody with darker thoughts but a brighter appearance? Somebody ready and willing to slyly take advantage of the situation?" "That was one of the risks, wasn't it?" Princess Celestia stated. Then, with a clarity of mind, she at last explained to him, "If I hold every outsider in contempt maybe I do protect Equestria from foreign dangers. But as you said, what example am I setting then? Maybe in place of a poison seeping in from outside I would be delivering one on the inside. "I am not flawless," she suddenly asserted with a lowered head, not in shame, but with unavoidable regret. "Like any pony, I make the choices that I feel are the best I can make and then I must deal with the consequences. If somepony had come with evil intent I hope I would have had the wisdom to perceive it, just as I was able to see within you the goodwill and strength of character to make the choices... perhaps in time... that you think will be the best for everypony and not just yourself. I believe also that, again perhaps with time, you will handle the consequences of your choices and not run from them." He was silent. "Did you prefer when I asked questions?" she chuckled, breaking the stillness. "I'm still not sure it's the decision I would have made," he said as he drew a heavier breath. "I mean, good intentions are a far cry from good actions." "Yes," she agreed. Something cold took her and she withdrew slightly, saying in a dim voice, "It's a matter of trust. Trusting in others. Trusting them to work with even more others to turn their good will to good acts. Believing in others. One pony cannot alone bear the world on their back." James again caught something hidden behind her eyes. Some deep matter far gone but far from forgotten; locked away; unspoken. "I learned that lesson long ago," she stolidly told him, "and it's why I now share many responsibilities with others, and hold on to so much faith in them to complete those tasks." "... like Twilight," James realized. "Yes." Again, a soft stillness betook them. Minutes passed, watching the small movements in the city below and feeling the tickles of the slowly dancing high winds as the sun trotted a few more inches in the sky, scattering a dusky red. The man had things he perhaps wanted to say but never quite settled on a way to express them. The wisdom in the Princess was easy to see now and he presumed that her outlooks and attitude, while not matching his, was merely what happens when one lives so many lifetimes in one place. For the first time, her choices finally made sense to him. Princess Celestia didn't take long to collect herself from her brooding. She waited for him, eager for anything more he might offer. When enough time had passed without comment from him, she tried to ease things along and asked, "How do you feel?" "What?" he uttered with a start. "You were right to point to the differences between yourself and my sister," the Princess said. "She was returning, even if it was to something new, but you're leaving something behind. So... how do you feel?" Irked at again being brought such a question, especially after she had basically asked it only a little while earlier, he responded using the same line, backed with unnecessary gruffness, "I'm fine." "That's how you ARE, if you say so," she expressed clearly, not doubting him. Still, she pushed, "but how do you FEEL?" It was only her great discernment and understanding that saved her from pushing his ire in the wrong direction. It never felt to James like she was working against him. It was more like every step she took was in the same direction he was going, even if the things she said or asked weren't what he wanted to hear. She made the question different somehow. Still seasoned with an understated harshness, but also with great difficulty, he admitted to her, "... I'm still figuring that out." "I see," she accepted. Taking a few sure-hoofed steps, she turned slightly and edged closer to him so she could look at him more directly. When he picked up his eyes enough to catch her's, she told him soundly, "You're not alone." James turned away again. A cloak of resentment started to envelop him and his words fell out like stones, "I suppose you're going to tell me to go talk to Twilight." "Would it matter if I said it to you?" Princess Celestia inquired intentionally. "Would it matter if I asked you to? Would it even matter if, as the authority of these lands, I commanded you to? You've told me what you think a leader is." She pressed just a faint bit closer to him. "The choice will always be yours," she said. "But more importantly, it will always be yours because even if I were to vainly command you to do things, I cannot command you to feel things. Regarding the weighty matters that trouble you, it is in nopony's power to make you feel things you do not want to feel. But... do understand what your options are." Rather than respond, he rested against the uncomfortable silence, not willing to turn back towards her. But she offered no further words. Eventually, feeling pressured to move things along, if only to get beyond this topic, he quietly remarked with some resentment and a noticeable amount of sarcasm, "So... Twilight has all the answers, huh?" "No. She does not." The Princess spaced herself away from him again, taking in the cityscape. "But she is ever the student. Learning is what she does best. And if there is something to be learned then she may help. Speak with her... if you choose." He had peeked at Princess Celestia when she had unexpectedly contradicted him but then he had swiftly resumed looking away. After she finished speaking, he stewed in thought before he could merely mutter an undetermined, "Perhaps..." "Perhaps," the Princess again repeated him with a deliberate curiosity. They shared a quiet moment longer on the balcony, resting above the yawning city as the sun's light cascaded down between scattered alleys and lanes. In time, Princess Celestia turned and walked back inside. She idly perused some books while politely waiting. James never needed to check to see if she had gone completely; there was an unmistakably bright presence to her that left her proximity never in doubt. Since she wasn't leaving he decided there was nothing for tiring his legs standing on this balcony and he joined her inside. He sat himself on the floor atop a carpet with a firm, sturdy pile and next to some assorted pillows where he waited to see what more she had in store for him. But the Princess was simply happy he hadn't upped and left. Returning the book she was inspecting to its resting place, she said to him, "Maybe that's enough of these stronger matters for now. Thank you for indulging me, though I suppose you probably felt you had to." She found her own place to set herself down and with an avid inquisitiveness she offered, "Perhaps there is something you'd like to ask me? Anything at all, if you'd like." He thought for a moment. It might be a nice escape. Then, with all the suddenness of a balloon bursting, an odd, offbeat, but curious thought popped up in his head and he couldn't resist pursuing it. Picking up some levity, he asked, "So... you're immortal, right?" In time, Twilight wandered out of the main hall, down the steps, and to the front of the castle grounds where she walked aimlessly. The details of her newly given assignment were already disappearing from her head, forgotten. Only her worries over her older assignment, guardianship over an alien, held any weight inside of her. She couldn't keep herself from fretting. Plagued by fears that she had been saddled with a task beyond her capabilities, she wrestled with her panic as she thought about how her failings were now being brought before the pony whom she respected the most and she wasn't even there to try and defend herself. What made the terror and anxiety all the worse was that no matter how much she dredged her memory, searching for a point of failure, she could never confidently determine what she should have done differently. James had been thrown onto her already existent responsibilities. She had slotted time for him where she could but had always felt okay leaving him to mostly manage himself, but maybe she should have curbed her other tasks and focused on him more? Yet sometimes he had seemed to ache to be alone, and other times he had joined in quite willingly and almost enthusiastically; she couldn't tell if more engagement would have helped or hurt. She could also sense that something was wrong with him, a nagging worry that had rumbled inside whenever she had seen how he behaved alone, but he had rebuffed all attempts to address it. Should she have pressed him harder? He had responded so angrily when she had tried to approach it; how could she have acted more without having made things worse? Instead, when it all came down to it, she had just given up and walked away. She was a failure. That's all that Princess Celestia was going to hear. No matter what he tells the Princess, the royal pony is going to discover that she had left him alone to do whatever he wanted, spurning her duty of observation, and then had abandoned him in the face of his problem, spurning her duty of guardianship. His problem? She knew it was there but she didn't even know what it was. Surely the Princess would see it too and be disappointed that she had failed to address it. And then the Princess would figure out his troubles and solve them instantly with some sage advice or a powerful spell before swearing to never leave such a responsibility in her hooves ever again. But... maybe it was a bit presumptuous to think that James' problem could be completely exposed without his assistance, by her or the Princess. After all, it was so hard to get inside his head sometimes, even for matters that he wasn't working to keep others out of. While she had always felt something off, like the sense of distorted balance that pervades a tilted room, she didn't remember any of her friends having mentioned feeling the same worry about him. Though... they didn't see him all that much. But Spike had never mentioned anything either, and her assistant had been around. This man's problem was so hidden... but was he trying to hide it? And why? None of her thoughts led anywhere constructive. She was so aggravated she could blast a hydra to stone. This was impossible! How could she be expected to watch over him if she couldn't help him, and how could she be expected to help him if he wouldn't trust her as a friend, and why would he ever trust her as a friend if she didn't respect his wishes and give him space?! Every solution was its own problem. She sat down on the edge of a deserted walkway, the emptiness the perfect echo of her despair. An uncountable amount of time passed, the minutes ticking by unrecognized by the melancholy unicorn, before she was snapped out of her grim misery by a buzzing overhead. Somepony called her name. She looked up to see Rainbow Dash dropping out of the sky and, not far off, Applejack was racing down the walkway to catch up. "Hey, Twilight!" the landing pegasus greeted. There was a low, tapering disappointment in her manners. Presumably whatever she had found when she had zipped off into the city so eagerly had left her discouraged. "Really figuring everything out, huh?" she remarked upon the sight of the unicorn's unmistakable introspection. "No...," Twilight droned, "I'm not... really sure what's going on..." The reply confused Rainbow Dash and the freshly arrived Applejack, and the two exchanged befuddled looks. "It's just going to be like... some dumb raccoons or something," the pegasus said. "Oh. You meant... Hamestown," Twilight realized. "I'm sorry, I was... I was thinking about... something else. I'll check the library later, I mean. I..." Her sentence died. "Uh... everything alright, sugar cube?" Applejack asked, troubled. "You got that 'up a racetrack without a saddle' look on you." "Yeah, I'm fine," the low unicorn weakly let up. But she winced. There were those words again. She heard the words echo in HIS voice once more. They repeated, harsh and strained, in the canyon of her mind. What was she doing? These were her friends. This is what they were here for. "No... no, I'm not fine," she admitted, ashamed. The echo binding her broke. Her two friends pulled close. Rainbow Dash rested a hoof on her and tried to get her to raise her head while asking, "Twilight... what's the matter?" "I think I really messed up with my assignment to monitor James," Twilight moaned sadly. "Say what now?" squeaked Applejack with a tremendous amount of surprise. "I was assigned guardianship over him so that his transition into Equestria would be smooth and seamless, but what have I done? Interrogate him repeatedly about his world, let Pinkie Pie throw him a party (which was a mistake that had to be fixed on the fly), and then barely anything more except let him hide away in the library and dig through books. And I'm certain something is bothering him badly but I can't figure it out because he won't speak to me about it and now he's talking with the Princess so she's going to find out what a failure I've been!" It all seemed to spill out of the unicorn at once, like pressure exploding out of the bottom of a can. The squashed sentences wandered away from her, lost in the same way she was. Rainbow Dash and Applejack tried to navigate her jumbled words as best they could. They didn't catch every specific detail that rolled out of her but the gist of it was clear to them, and the pain she was in was even more glaring. As the pegasus stammered, looking for the right place to begin, the farm pony improvised her speech. It started in a crawl but built up speed as she naturally slide into what she wanted to say: "Well... Beanstalk always struck me as... mighty fidgety and quiet-like. Something always going on behind his eyes, you know? Little worrisome at first, in more ways than one all things considering. But after awhile I figured it was only natural. Heck, you fall out of the apple tree and land in an orange basket and see how fast you warm up. Certainly wouldn't be in a hurry, I reckon." She clicked her tongue, blasted through the past few days of hers memories, and then mentioned, "You know, I kept telling him he should get out and look around town some. Not stagnate. Thought that would be a good way to get his hooves wet, do some slow acclimatin' while he was getting used to everypony. But I didn't really let it bother me none because... well, because I didn't hear anything from you, sugar cube, so I thought you had it in hoof." "Yeah, Twilight," Rainbow Dash suddenly found a hook in, "how come you never came to us about any of this? I thought after the party that we were kind of in this together." "I don't know! I don't know...," Twilight lowly wailed. "I guess I thought... that I was handling it on my own just fine and I didn't need anypony's help. But somehow everything slipped out of my grasp without me realizing it." A strained sigh wheezed out of her and she nearly sobbed, "Once the Princess hears all about it, she'll end her mentorship for sure." "Now maybe this is just me," Applejack kindly interjected with an ounce of good-natured humor, "but that don't strike me as an awfully princess-like thing to do. Are you sure you ain't maybe getting your tail in a twist over nothing substantial there?" "But... but, the assignment in Hamestown," Twilight tried to object. However something in her voice had begun changing. "So far away but so simple... she could have just informed Fluttershy and sent her, but she wanted me to go. Couldn't she be... sending me away?" It was half-like she herself didn't believe what she was saying anymore. Rainbow Dash shook her head at the absurdity. "Nah, I'm with Applejack on this one. Maybe it is a little bit much to send all of us but what you're saying doesn't sound like the Princess at all," she declared. With a little bit of cockiness, she added, "Besides, when has she ever left something to us that she honestly thought we couldn't handle?" The confidence flowed from one pony to the other and slowly Twilight collected herself. The rasher, more impulsively developed possibilities in her thoughts began to collapse under the weight of their own ridiculousness, no longer propped up by her downhearted imagination. The simple support of their friendship opened doors in her mind, revealing things she already knew but couldn't focus on. Warm, and with a growing smile, she said, "You're right, Rainbow Dash." "Of course I am," the pegasus insisted. "When have I ever been wrong?" "'Bout half the time you flap your gums," Applejack teased, giving her friend a pleasant slap on the side. She turned towards Twilight with a more serious, but still eased, attitude and asked, "So, about Beanstalk... what is this problem that you were going on about?" "Yeah," Rainbow Dash chimed in, "he didn't seem that off on the train. I mean, a little goofy, but that's fine by me. Better than other things he could be." "I don't really know what's bothering him exactly," reiterated Twilight. Her turnaround in mood hadn't changed her opinion on that. "I'm certain it's there, though." The impatient pegasus fluttered up slightly, ambitiously asserting, "Well, let's go wait for the Princess to finish with him and then grill it out of him!" "No!" Twilight called out spontaneously. She quickly brought herself back in line and explained, "I mean, I've already tried asking him about it and he just gets very... upset and defensive. And... I feel like we'll just overwhelm him if we all descend on him at once." Rainbow Dash teetered her head thoughtfully, still bobbing in the air. She had confronted James once before with her own strong suspicions and mistrust, not long after he had arrived, and she remembered how unexpectedly collected he had been in response. So him having been 'upset' by only some prodding from Twilight felt a little strange to her on one hoof. But on the other hoof, it reignited some or her suspicion. Like the others, she tried very hard to keep suppressed the dark memory of his violence that they had witnessed shortly after having rescued him at the start of all this. But unlike the others she could never completely rule out that side of him, even after she had begun trusting him. She couldn't let go of her conflicting ideas about how he might handle pressure. Still, though... Uneasily, she said, "I'm, uh, not trying to bring up a sore subject or anything but he does seem like a pretty tough guy. Maybe all jumping on him at once about it is EXACTLY what we should do? Like, just really throw it in his face? He could probably handle it... (I hope.)" Mostly she was trying to address her own fear of letting her friends confront him alone. There was some cautious humming from her friends but Twilight eventually came out shaking her head. "No. Not now, anyway," the unicorn resolved, elaborating, "We're leaving for Hamestown tomorrow morning and I presume he's staying here in Canterlot. I don't want to risk provoking him and not being able to solve it before we have to head off. Besides, we should at least wait until we know what the Princess is speaking to him about." "Well... if that's what you think is best," Applejack yielded gently, "we'll let the matter rest a spell. Just don't go forgetting that we're here to help you with it, yeah?" There was a nod of similar sentiment from Rainbow Dash. Twilight bowed her head. When she looked back at them, a softness befell her eyes and she stated sincerely, "Thanks, you two. Really." The farm pony brought a leg around her in a grand hug. "Aw, no thanks necessary, sugar cube! What're friends for?" When the moment of fellowship passed, Rainbow Dash drummed some enthusiasm up in her voice and said, "So, that Wonderbolts thing was a bust, which means we still got an open evening ahead. Applejack and I were coming back to find the others." "See if they wanted some grub, maybe," the orange pony appended. "Oh, well, they did go to get something to eat but I don't know where exactly," Twilight told them. "They're probably somewhere close. We all arrived a little famished I think." A flick of consideration passed through her and she suddenly encouraged them, "Why don't you girls go and join them? I think I'll head to the castle library and start pulling some books instead. After all, if I keep saying 'maybe' or 'later' then I might never get to it at all!" "Or at least very long lived," James added. "One thousand years ago, with sending Princess Luna to the moon and everything." Princess Celestia tilted her head at the interesting, unexpected question. "I have been around for quite some time, yes," she responded with an ingrained curiosity. "Why do you ask?" "Just curious, I guess," he answered. "I mean, people rarely live for more than a hundred years, and that's if they're really good about taking care of themselves. So... meeting someone who's actually lived way longer..." He shrugged a shoulder. It tickled the Princess's intrigue. One of the things she loved most about getting to meet so many individuals was observing their uniqueness. Witnessing the different things that drew their attention, or understanding how their concerns differed from others. "Nopony has ever really asked me about it before," she commented. "It makes sense in a way," said James. "If you've always been around for them, and their parents, and their grandparents, and so on... then you're kind of a constant. It's 'just the way it is.' Questioning it would be like... asking why the sun rises every morning." The stylish depiction of the sun on her flank jumped out at him and he mused, "Okay, maybe... maybe that's a bad example here. But still... even that, how the ponies react so ordinarily to somebody who has been around for so long, it's just kind of interesting, I guess. Nothing like that back home." Eager to draw more out of him, the Princess inquired, "And what are your thoughts on the matter?" He gave her a bit of a knowing look and lightly jested, "I thought it was my turn to be asking the questions." "I apologize," she returned with equal humor. "And... what is your question?" Although he had meant his comment as a silly quip, poking fun at her still contributing to the conversation mostly in guiding questions, he had accidentally created a diversion in his thoughts. He wasn't particularly interested in being the inquisitor here, tweezing information out of her through precision questions. It was only that he found the topic at hand to be interesting to discuss leisurely, especially with one who could offer opinions from experience he couldn't find anywhere else. She had certainly read his feelings, though; it was evident in how she slyly smiled as he helplessly shrugged another shoulder when unable to come up with a follow-up question. Pushing through, he regained his footing, saying, "I can't say I've ever really thought too deeply about immortality... again, it's never been a real thing. What would there be to consider, outside flights of fancy?" His own words triggered a realization in him: "Though... other people have certainly had a lot to say about the idea through the lens of fiction. Lots of stories where it's an element. And surprisingly, lots of thoughts both for AND against." "Ah, interesting," she remarked. She leaned herself forward. Already James could see the next leading question forming in her throat and the inquiring shine in her eyes. But with a dash of deliberate, cheery mischievousness she instead stated, "Tell me about them." "Oh. Ah... well..." He mulled as a quiet moment passed. "There's a lot that's appealing to the idea of never running out of time. Life is short. There's more to do than can be done in one lifetime." There were so many things that had been left unfinished, the world over. What would some people have traded to have the time to meet all the goals they had set for themselves? He proposed, "Immortality would remove one of the biggest cosmic restrictions someone has. Having that infinite time would open up a lot of personal possibilities." Princess Celestia immediately asked, "And, if you had that infinite time, what would you use it for?" He smirked at her again leading the way with questions, but as long as the topic was easy and enjoyable then acceptance had rolled its way into him. This was a much more comfortable road of discussion anyhow. "I don't know," he admitted to her, "mostly because, again, I've never really thought much about it. I can understand why the thought of all that time would appeal to someone who is more... ambitious than me, I guess?" The reel of his life played back before him. Places and events in his time had moved along from one thing to next as had felt right and logical, one after the other as they had come, not according to the precalculated movements of a master planner; a life lived very much in the present. "I don't really have... I DIDN'T really have any specific plans. Just happy, regular days and warm, safe nights. Maybe eventually marriage and children, or whatever." In a single instant the train of thought became discomforting and almost suffocating. He saved himself by whirling it around, asking her, "Better question: what have you done with all these years that you've been given?" "I have been blessed," the Princess breathed with profound veneration. "What I have wanted with my life has always been right before me," she continued, directing a hoof towards the balcony. Her pointing seemed to reach out beyond the city, stretching to every place Equestria over, and it reached deeper than any home, touching every heart of every pony. "But, to answer your question more directly, it has never been a matter of time. My role is not to fulfill a completable task or to finish something that has been started. It goes on. It must be lived every day. For however long, or short, that I live." James grappled with her response, having felt genuine surprise at first but then quickly understanding her position. It described, after all, the kind of leader that she was. Impulsively he commented, "I suppose that's something else that can be put in the positive column for immortality: never having to be parted from something you love." But again a stifling uneasiness pinched him as the words ran from his mouth to his ears. He hardly had to lock eyes with the Princess to tell she had another leading question all ready to go. Another hook prepared to try and pull out more from this miserable mental path. Jumping to cut her off, he hastily hopped tracks, "What probably drives most people to cherish the notion of immortality is just fear of death, I think. But I'll be honest, I've never understood that perspective well." She studied him a moment and reasoned, "You do not fear death." "Yeah, exactly, I guess," he nodded from an uncertain place. "Something about... ending, and the finality of it, really gets to some people. But not me so much. I don't know if it's because I've had to be ready to face it before or... maybe just the impetuousness of youth; it feels unnatural to be worried about dying so young. I still have way more days ahead than behind." "Even though you have no specific plans for those days?" she rhetorically asked. "Well, I... huh." It was a fair point. Nothing to regret dying before, but also nothing specific to live for either. Why the fearlessness, then? Apathy which didn't care to see what tomorrow brings? Or maybe, contentment which simply was happy with what yesterday had? "Do you think... I mean, I've always had it pretty good in my opinion, as far as life goes. I feel pretty confidently I could say I've tasted real happiness before. So, do you think that has something to do with it? Like, 'if it happens, it happens. I can't complain.'" A certain amount of understanding radiated off the Princess, as well as a strong sense of familiarity. "Regrets are very powerful," she directly told him. "And very controlling. The pain and remorse can cling on to the deepest parts of you. And while that can spur you on and drive you to accomplishment or betterment, it can also deny rest or peace. So, yes, if you can master your regrets it can help you be at peace." He could feel her retrospection. Feel her inward gaze fixated upon something old. It had been so clearly leaking out in bits and pieces since seeing her again. If a person is built from their limited lifetime of experiences... what is someone so long-lived built from? "... What about you?" he asked in nearly a whisper. "Do you fear death? Not so much, because of your lifespan? Or MORE, because of it?" Following a flooded silence, her words came out very choice and deliberate: "I do have regrets." "And not the time to address them?" "Time is not everything," she said in tender solemnity, "and occasionally... it's nothing." Though almost afraid it would be too intrusive a question, James asked, "... Was it some pony that you lost?" The distant and pained memories, the scars of something unpleasant, didn't disappear from her, but still Princess Celestia smiled at him with a safe degree of comfort. "Many wonderful ponies have passed in my time," she said securely to him. "I suppose... that is one of the grievances that those humans who are against extended life have?" "Yes, definitely," he confirmed. There wasn't a more repeated negative theme in immortal fiction that he could imagine. "To carry on when everything else, and everyone else, passes on. To be unchanging in an ever changing world. There are even stories where immortality is explicitly laid upon someone as a punishment." "Am I really unchanging?" she suggested. "I don't know," he rubbed his temple, "I guess not if you're implying you're not." "Forget what I imply," she directed. "What do you believe?" With a bit of a resigned sigh, he put his mind to work and shortly concluded, "I've still learned and experienced new things even after becoming a grown adult, and I've known even older people who've kept up the same. So, if it doesn't stop when 'growing up', there's no reason to believe that should stop past a natural lifespan either." But that didn't feel conclusive enough. That was a very selfish way of thinking about it. Most lives inevitably end up intertwined with others' and that was the true heart of the concern. He started to say to her, "But... I mean, the real fear of it is not... being unchanging, but that... that the losses in life compound. Others that you care about... go. And you never want to feel..." Word by word, his voice gradually succumbed to silence. This had started as such an intriguing topic but every path he had taken had somehow turned back around... His strength to continue waned. Immensely understanding, the Princess said, "And it's plain to see why some would feel that way. Nopony is immune to loss. But to believe that those losses should be enough to stop one from carrying on... that assumption comes from a false place." "How do you deal with it?" James weakly questioned. Her horn lit up with a glow like sunlight and a heavy album was drawn from a nearby bookshelf. She held it low before herself, tilted to the side so that the man might also see it while she cycled through the pages. It was filled with drawings, paintings, and occasional photographs, of many ponies with a seemingly infinite diversity. Some of the pictures were quite aged and well taken care of, and all were arranged with pride in this assorted scrapbook of love. "I have known so many incredible, talented, fascinating, and admirable ponies over the course of my life. I will never forget a single one of them and I will always miss them," she resoundingly insisted, but continued, "but I do not dwell forever on their departure. Or let the grief hold me back. How many more inspiring ponies are out there to meet? How many amazing ponies have yet to even be born? I want to meet them all." A fresh page came up that had a relatively recent photograph of a young, eager unicorn filly with sparkling, wide eyes. Beaming, the tiny horse gazed upon her newly stamped starburst cutie mark with ready pride, all the while earnestly looking forward to something yet to come. The Princess let out a fond, joyful breath upon seeing the picture, and she told James, "Like this one here. My faithful student. If I had let my past losses frighten me from making new friendships, I would never have met Twilight Sparkle. Even though as time marches ever on I find traits in others that repeat, she, like all ponies, is still unique in her own ways and she is a special spirit that I'm proud to have the chance to know." Somewhat uncertain, he asked in confusion, "You... replace the friends you lose?" "Replace? No. I'll never let go of the best of what all my little ponies have given me," she clarified. "But I can't let the sadness that comes with their passing paralyze me. I don't want my heart to be so closed, and love is not so limited a resource. I can't forget the unrestrained happiness I've felt from all the friends I've met and I know future friends can provide even more. Always remember that if you don't give up then the losses and pains, even added up, do not outweigh the joys and gains." The Princess turned her scrapbook fully towards herself, easing through the pages again with a great warmness. James sat low and quiet before eventually saying, "Well... that's a profound thing to think about. Coming from someone who has actually lived it anyway." He felt her eyes fall upon him again. "I'm not immortal, though. So I think it doesn't really apply to me very much." "It doesn't? Or did you want to say it couldn't?" she replied, yet again firing out a leading question. He once more stared at her in a deliberate way, quipping, "You really like the whole 'speaking mostly in questions' thing." "Do I?" "Yes." "Are there other ways to get answers?" "Yes." "Such as?" At this point he knew enough to stop. He only bobbed his head, rolled his tongue across the front of his teeth, and snorted a small laugh. With the daintiest sort of pride in her silly victory, the Princess held her head up before explaining, "I think questions are the only form of speech that always invite a response." "Well, you ask too many questions and you'll start inviting other things as well," he remarked. "Oh, you seem more amused by it than frustrated," she smiled back. "Frustrated in an amused sort of way, maybe," he retorted, upbeat, to the delightful grin of the Princess. "So, is this what happens when you live long enough to collect all that knowledge and wisdom? You get really coy and cagey?" "Of course not," she responded, then with a sly wink, "that comes from something else entirely." "Which is?" he asked, fully expecting her to respond with another teasing question. She did not let him down. "Would you say it's more valuable to be given an answer or to understand what is the right question?" James juggled with his hands, stating, "And that's the trouble with really wise types. Give them a question and they'll somehow get away with answering 'yes' and 'no' simultaneously." "Or, perhaps, does the trouble lie in you believing that you need either a 'yes' or a 'no?'" she queried. He waved his hand like he was brushing away dust, a sort of innocent 'stop that' motion. But with her continued insistence on this approach he was being slowly reminded of something. A past element pushed more and more to the front of his mind. For the Princess's part, she could immediately tell that there was some story bubbling up in him, just on the edge of spilling over. She leaned in to demonstrate herself a willing audience and encourage it out of him. After only an instant, he gave up resistance with a sigh. He looked away from her slightly and started to spin his short tale: "Growing up, I always used to get really upset with my dad because whenever I went to him for help with anything he would never give me a solution. He'd never show me the answer. He'd do absolutely everything he could to avoid solving things for me. He'd always try to show me the next step in the road so I could take it myself, but he'd never just give it to me. So... don't think for a second that I don't know what you're trying to do." "Ah, so you do understand," Princess Celestia said grinning. "Well, yeah, but... what I'm trying to say is... you know, be careful," he warned dimly. "Cause while I do understand NOW, for a long, long time the only lesson I had learned from the experience was: never go to my dad for help, cause he won't." She pulled her head back with some surprise, giving great consideration to what he had said. Stuck on something, she asked him for verification, "But you know now that's not true?" "Yeah. I mean, he's my dad, I'd love him forever anyway. But I did get older and wiser and figured out what he was doing. And when I had to go off and live on my own and be my own man, I especially realized that, in truth, he loved me and would do anything for me. And that's kind of what he had always been trying to do... risk frustrating and alienating a little boy that he loved so much just so the squirt might learn something really valuable." But a doubtful darkness lingered inside James, draped in shades of regret. He told the Princess with caution, "Just... be careful. Cause no matter how it turned out in the end, there was a real count of years there that... no matter how much I liked my dad in general... my actual honest opinion of him was that I couldn't rely on him for anything." He was almost startled with how she actually seemed to weigh his words with some value. There was something in it all that she could relate to. Again, as had been happening all day, a history flashed behind her eyes while she pondered. With things having reached the point they had now, James felt there was no reason, not even politeness anymore, to hold back. He interrupted her musing, earnestly accusing her, "All this... stuff going on in Hamestown, that you're sending the others to investigate... you KNOW something." She glared back at him, not with a hostile suspicion or guilt under threat, but more intrigued by how precisely he had picked up on it and by where he might take it. He continued, "You know something you're not giving up about it. You didn't tell the girls everything." "I didn't?" she lead him on. "Okay, that makes it obvious. What aren't you telling them?" It seemed like she would respond, but he could see the way her eyes rose up like she was about to ask another question and he forcefully jumped in first, "You're going to say something wishy-washy like, 'Do they really need to know?' But I'm not asking about them. I want to know what you aren't telling them, and why." The Princess nodded. Slow, but certain, she answered, "I believe there are things there that will be more important for them to discover for themselves." "But isn't that dangerous?" protested James. "I mean, sink or swim, sure, you're going to get many who rise up and get things done out of necessity but... sooner or later... somebody is going to drown." Her words poured out, motherly, gentle and strong: "I have faith in them. I do not say that because I want to blind myself to the dangers or risks that they take. I do not enjoy seeing them at risk, no matter how much it lifts my heart to see them overcome it. I have faith in them because I must; because I've seen them tested before and they overcame. Because it's for the best of all that I accept that I cannot always guard them against every risk they'll face and," she gestured to herself while repeating her earlier words, "one pony alone cannot bear the world on their back. Like any pony, I make the best decisions I can. And I hope they are the right ones." They quieted again while the Princess gave one final glance to her scrapbook before putting it away. She observed the silenced man who, despite having had grown easy enough to converse with her honestly and openly, was still steeped in doubt with tenser, hidden things within. Her long, long years of life had left her with a highly tuned judge of character that she always trusted just enough, and after today she felt safe that she hadn't see anything that betrayed her initial assessment of him. Out of the ether he had come, from a land of dark possibilities bearing what could be wicked portents. But their first conversation that night had given her a sense of immediate relief. She had seen then, as plain as the sun to her, that someone who lives somewhere thick with potential darkness will, quite naturally, be able to carry a light. Pleased with there being no change in her judgment of him and feeling more safe than ever in his being attached to her faithful student, she offered, "If you have such concerns for what they'll face... why don't you go with them?" "What?" he said, doubtful he had heard her suggestion correctly. "Surely if you're prepared enough to expect the unexpected, they could benefit from your assistance?" she pressed with her trickiness at full play. "That's not really how that would work... and... I hardly know anything about Equestria anyway so what would you expect me to even contribute?" he objected heavily. "Besides, you were more than willing to send them without me so you already believe they don't need me. And don't give me any kind of detailless 'I trust you' thing about it." She nearly laughed at how much he seemed to rally against it, saying to him, "I hardly believe you'd go to the trouble of intentionally sabotaging their efforts." She also added with an honest if cheeky smile, "And just so this is clear, I do trust you." "Intentionally sabotage...," James whispered before asking, "and what about accidentally?" "Even better that you seem to know enough to expect that too!" the Princess joked. But when it was clear how grave he was being about it she immediately sobered up and revealed seriously, "I know there are other reasons you don't want to go." Rising up to her hooves, she said, "I won't make any demands of you. The choice is yours, and it's important to me that it remains yours. You'll be welcome to stay here in the castle while they're away, if you should like. But please, do give the matter some consideration." Looking away again, and with hushed words, he responded, "Perhaps..." "Perhaps," the Princess repeated with curiosity yet again. She turned and walked out of the room, but briefly she stopped at the door to say only, "You certainly do like to leave a lot of possibilities forever open. When do you choose to close any of them?"