//------------------------------// // Chapter 14 // Story: The Perilous Romance of Swans // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// While there was some tension in the air, Gosling had to admit this was a far nicer experience than the first press conference. Official correspondents were bitter, jaded, and not at all impressed with being around the royals. These correspondents seemed a little bit shellshocked to be here, hanging out and having a swanky party. Most of them were nervous. For many, this was an event that could make or break their career. He stood beside Princess Celestia as she spoke to a junior reporter, a rather polite unicorn stallion that wore glasses with thick, soda bottle lenses and a battered trilby hat. Gosling observed that there were some rules in place. While she was talking with one reporter, the others stayed back at a respectful distance. When the bespectacled reporter was finished, he bowed his head, said, “Thank you,” and backed away. As he was backing away, another moved in to take his place, but did so without running or appearing to be in a hurry. One had to approach to ask a question, but do so in a polite manner without trampling others. This reporter, also a unicorn, was a mare. She had aged young, her eyes were a bit red, she had enough bags under her eyes to go to the Crystal Empire on an extended vacation, and her back sagged a bit. “Princess Celestia,” the reporter said, “I was hoping I could ask a few questions that in no way relate to your consort.” “I would be delighted,” Princess Celestia replied, glancing at Gosling as she spoke. “I was wondering,” the tired mare began, “about the rising trade crisis. As we develop as a nation, our factory workers, in particular, those that work in fabric mills, demanded better wages for their work to keep up with the cost of living. Increased wages will mean that the cost of our goods will go up, which will in turn hurt our standing on the world market. Our exports will feel the sting of rising costs.” The mare paused and took a deep breath, then asked, “What plans are in place to deal with this issue?” “Oh my,” Princess Celestia said to the reporter. “Well, to start, we’re going to have to accept that we’re going to lose certain types of manufacturing jobs. If wages are raised and the cost of our exports rises, and no buyer purchases them, those jobs are lost. The market determines job availability. I think many of our factories and much of our manufacturing sector will have to be repurposed to focus upon speciality goods and offer things other nations are ill equipped to make.” “Most of the city of Manehattan is dependent upon the manufacturing of fabric, as it directly contributes to the city’s fashion industry. What will replace it?” The reporter’s pen scratched over her notebook and she never took her eyes off of Princess Celestia. “Well, I think we can still make fabric in this country, but we shall have to move to full automation in clean, modern factories. As for what comes next, I don’t know. I believe the market will decide where we go. With Princess Twilight Sparkle’s education reforms and her war on illiteracy, our workforce is becoming more and more educated. So anything is possible. I believe we shall have a technical boom, but other analysts insist that we’ll manage with specialised manufacturing.” “What about relaxing environmental restrictions so that we might increase our steel manufacturing and other forms of polluting industry?” the reporter asked. Gosling felt his eyes glazing over, but he somehow looked interested and alert as he stood beside Princess Celestia. A part of his brain hated him at this moment as he realised that he was going to have to start paying attention to all of this stuff. Princess Celestia cleared her throat. “The environment is a difficult juggling act. Industries must be held accountable for the pollution they create. We cannot leave this land bleak, barren, and poisoned. We’ve already seen some of the consequences of doing that.” “Thank you,” the reporter replied as she scribbled some final words into her notebook and then closed it. “My name is April Greenleaf and I’m a reporter with Enviro-Conscious News. It was a pleasure to speak with you and I am relieved that you plan to protect our land.” The reporter turned to face Gosling and smiled. “You… you just keep being charming and I think you’ll be fine, handsome. Just remember to think green!” The reporter bowed her head and began to back away, smiling as she retreated. The entire room froze and let out a collective gasp as Princess Luna entered the hall. The Princess of the Night was holding an oversized mug of steaming coffee and she wobbled as she made her grand entrance. Just inside the door, she paused, took a sip of the muddy brew, and then with a lurch, she took off to be with her sister. Following along behind her, Spike waved at the reporters who snapped his picture. Behind Spike, a somewhat angry looking Twilight Sparkle returned to the fray, and she cast her critical, downright hostile gaze upon any reporter that strayed too close. Twilight Sparkle’s animosity towards the press was the stuff of legend. Twilight was not a hateful sort, by all accounts she was kind, gentle, she was the Princess of Friendship, but she had an open loathing of the press. “Oh, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said to her former protégée, “Twilight, do come here… I have somepony I want you to meet.” Twilight, who appeared glad for the distraction, made her way over to Princess Celestia, with various reporters scattering out of her way like chickens. As she moved, her head turned from one side to the other, her eyes darting to and fro as she kept an eye on the various members of the press, as if she was just daring them to do something stupid so she would have an excuse to lay into them. As Twilight drew near, Princess Celestia smiled. “Twilight Sparkle, this is Gosling.” Celestia looked down at Gosling, her eyes gleaming with inner warmth. “Private Gosling, this is my former student, Twilight Sparkle.” Drawing herself up to her full height, Twilight began to study Gosling. Feeling her eyes upon him, he snapped to attention and under her critical eye, he felt self conscious about his somewhat disheveled state. Rigid, he stared straight ahead, not quite sure what he could do to leave a good first impression. After several tense moments, Twilight stepped closer to Princess Celestia, placed her wing alongside her mouth, and whispered to her former teacher, “You selected him as breeding stock, didn’t you?” Both mares began giggling and Gosling, who remained at attention, staring straight ahead, felt his cheeks grow warm and his ears grew hot. He swallowed and listened to the sounds of Celestia and Twilight having a laugh together. “It’s that pelt of his,” Celestia said in a conspiratorial whisper to Twilight. “And for his size, he has an impressive wingspan.” Responding to Celestia, Twilight shook her head. “I still don’t get the fixation that pegasi have with wingspan… what’s the deal with that?” “Oh, Twilight, there is nothing finer than looking at a nice pair of wings,” Celestia replied. “But why? What is so attractive about them?” Twilight continued to shake her head. Gosling was a neck pony himself. While he liked wings, something about the neck just did it for him. And Celestia had a neck. She had a marble column as a neck… no, she had an alabaster tower for a neck. Princess Celestia was the Princess of Necks. Which boded well for a good bit of necking. Gosling was snapped from his thoughts by Twilight. “The whole wing thing is silly. They’re just wings. I don’t understand them as objects of sexual attraction. They’re more annoying than anything else. They require constant preening to keep them presentable. It gets stinky under there. And you have to worry about overheating as wings tend to act as insulators. I just don’t see the big deal.” “Twilight… what am I to do with you?” Celestia said in a soft voice. Gosling however, took matters into his own hooves. Sometimes, it was better to show than tell. He unfurled his wings, which were a bit out of sorts at the moment, he waved them around, angling them for the best possible display, and then, in a shameless display of raw, primal sexuality, he began to preen himself. He got ahold of a primary with his lips, got it damp, and then ran his lips along its length, leaving the feather smooth, glossy, and somewhat damp, his oily saliva leaving behind an almost rainbow sheen. All around the room, POMF! sounds could be heard as Gosling continued his shameless display. Cameras flashed, capturing the downright pornagraphic imagery of the colt preening, his lips moving over his feathers in a slow, deliberate, almost teasing display of grooming. Sleet, Gosling’s mother, had told her son to never preen himself in public. Nice colts didn’t do that. They did it in private. Good ponies preened in private and never made a public display. Showing off your wings was fine, provided it was done so in the right place at the right time. But preening? Doing that in public was dirty. There were more POMF! sounds as various pegasi, both male and female, reacted to Gosling’s display of unbridled sexuality. There was a supersonic crack as Princess Luna’s wings shot out from her sides with hurricane force and she sprayed out a stream of rich brown coffee from her puckered lips. More flashbulbs popped. Drinks were spilled. Ponies standing too close to pegasi got smacked. POMF! POMF! POMF! The sound could be heard all around the room. Even one of the guards posted near the door reacted, biting his lip as his wings betrayed him. POMF! Several ponies discovered something new about their sexuality, having an awakening. Princess Cadance almost decapitated her husband when her wings sprang from her sides. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in a perfect ‘O’ of shock and surprise. Cadance’s ears pitched forwards as she stared at Gosling’s perverse display. Even Princess Celestia was not immune. There was a thunderous, deafening crack as her wings shot out from her sides and her pearlescent hide was beaded in sweat drops that shone like tiny diamonds. Her eyes narrowed and she too, bit down upon her lip as Gosling dragged another primary through his moistened lips. Looking mortified, Twilight looked confused when her own wings sprang out from her sides. She stared at them in wide eyed horror, her whole body turning a darker shade of purple. Her mouth fell open and she shook her head as she backed away from Gosling. There was a gasp from the doorway. In the door, Sleet stood with Twilight Velvet. She stared at her son for a moment, looking stunned, then covered her eyes with her wings. “Oh, a mother could die! Gosling! Half the ponies in this room are shtupping you with their eyes! Stop before somepony schmears themselves! A pony could slip, fall, and break their neck in that mess!” A low squeak escaped from Gosling’s mouth as he froze, a primary held in his lips. He blinked at the sound of his mother’s voice. This did not go as planned. He blinked again, still frozen. “Gosling, don’t make me schlep you off to a private room so I can potch your little tuchus! Oh, a mother could just die from embarrassment!” Sleet cried in a nasal whine. “I brought you into this world and I can take you out! What have I told you about doing that in public? Oh, I can never show my face again! A mother could just die! Die!” His primary slid from his mouth as Gosling pulled his head back, his movements slow and jerky. He heard snorting, a camera flashed again, and then the sound of Princess Celestia chortling filled his ears. The chortles became giggles as she could do nothing to hold them in, and then the giggles became guffaws of laughter as she lost it completely. Cringing, Gosling could not look his mother in the eye, but he could feel her gaze of maternal disapproval burning into his flesh, like sunlight shining through a magnifying glass and down upon an ant. He stood, looking very meek, his head low, his ears drooping, trying to look as pathetic as possible so his mother wouldn’t get charged with his murder. Celestia was still laughing, she and Luna both, and tears streamed down their cheeks. Twilight was still confused by her own reaction and was having trouble folding her wings against her sides. The room was still recovering. Twilight Velvet, Twilight Sparkle’s mother, walked around from place to place, clearing her throat, the corners of her mouth twitching, threatening to betray her, and she was unable to look in Gosling’s direction without choking. Spike followed along behind her, his sides bellowing as he laughed. Many ponies had gone outside for a breath of fresh air, while others had vanished into the bathrooms. It was best not to think about what the ponies who had gone into the bathroom might be doing. Cadance, a helpful sort, brought Gosling’s mother Sleet a strong mixed drink. After passing the drink to Sleet, Cadance turned, went to Gosling, lowered her head until her lips were inches away from Gosling’s ear, and said, “That was quite a display, Private Gosling. I think you’ve just endeared yourself to the nation, good work.” The ice cubes in Sleet’s drink rattled as she held it in her primaries. “A mother could just die…” she muttered, shaking her head.