Chapter 11
Upon returning to the small, cosy tea room, Gosling found Blueblood and Raven hunched over the table, a bottle of wine between them, and both of them appeared to be working. There was no sign of Luna or any of the others. As Gosling stood looking at Blueblood and Raven, Celestia sat down. It was just the four of them in the room together.
“The most common attack angle is his age,” Raven said as Gosling seated himself, “but Blueblood has a plan to counter that and silence the press.”
Gosling leaned forwards and his ears perked, showing his interest. Celestia rang a bell and Gosling startled a bit. Leaning over, he touched Celestia, who was still somewhat damp. She was warm to his touch, her pelt was velvet against his frogs, and her sides were still bellowing from her laughter.
“Gosling, forgive me for being so blunt, but have you had your bit mitzvah?” Blueblood turned his weary gaze upon Gosling. It had been a long day and it showed on Blueblood’s face.
“Nephew, what are you planning?” Celestia asked before Gosling could reply.
“I plan to use political correctness and the fear of cultural discrimination against the press,” Blueblood replied. He opened his mouth to say more, but Raven butted in.
“Blueblood’s plan is really quite simple.” Raven took a deep breath and let everything out, all in one go. “As you know, there is some discrimination against the first tribes. They have preserved a different way of life, a different way of doing things, they have different cultural standards. By first tribe standards, a colt is an adult at the age of fourteen, when he’s had his bit mitzvah. They go by sevens, as I am sure you know. The ages of seven, fourteen, and twenty one are all milestones in their lives, and each comes with a special celebration. Equestria’s own laws are based upon those of the first tribes, which is why we allow military applicants in at the age of fourteen.” Raven sucked in another deep breath. “Blueblood is going to suggest that any insulting remarks about Gosling’s age are really just discrimination against the first tribes with the hope that the press will turn on each other in a frenzy of political correctness. Nopony will dare say anything out of the fear of being labeled as a bigot.”
“I don’t like this.” Celestia’s lips pressed into a straight line. “I do not agree with this at all. This feels wrong somehow. This is encouraging my little ponies to turn upon one another, to potentially do harm to one another.”
Gosling’s gaze turned hard and he focused his eyes upon Blueblood. “Do you think it will make a difference?”
Hearing Gosling’s words, Blueblood’s eyes widened. The prince leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and let it out in a huff. Blueblood glanced at his aunt, then his eyes lingered upon the wine bottle. He tapped on the edge of the table with his hoof, blinked, then nodded.
“Political correctness has reached fever pitch. Many of the media outlets are obsessed with it. Everything is spun for political correctness. Public shaming for being politically incorrect has shown to be quite effective. It has even made the nobles heel”—pausing, Blueblood blinked—“although, I must say, most of the nobles are quiet, well mannered homebody types. They stopped being a real problem quite some time ago. It fell out of fashion to be scandalous.”
“We have to do something,” Raven said in a pleading voice. “We have to do some kind of damage control. If we can silence the press about Gosling’s age, that will be one less angle of attack.”
“This feels wrong.” Celestia lifted her head high and glanced at the door, hoping that tea would soon arrive. “But it isn’t my decision to make.” Celestia turned to look at Gosling. “This is your call. I will leave this choice with you, Gosling. Only time will tell if this is a poor decision or a stroke of genius. Choose wisely. This affects your future… and do try to think about how this might affect others.”
“I’ve already sent a dispatch to the First Tribes Anti-Defamation League,” Blueblood admitted in a small voice. “I used a discreet messenger and sent a message to somepony I trust who works within the agency. We’ll be hearing from them soon, I think.”
“That’ll help me make a well informed decision.” Gosling’s neck bowed, almost as if some great weight was pressing down upon him. He stared down at the table and his ears splayed out sideways, making him look weary.
Truth be told, he was weary. It had been a long day. Before Gosling could stop it from happening, a yawn escaped. He looked up and saw Blueblood staring at him. It was impossible to read Blueblood’s face, it was just a blank mask that offered no emotion—no tells. Blueblood was playing the game, at least at the moment.
“Only a few of the major players weighed in on the issue,” Raven said as she lifted up the wine bottle in her magic. She took a pull, her cheeks bulging, and swallowed. Wiping her mouth with her foreleg, she continued, “The really big papers are probably doing more digging. They’ll weigh in with their opinions. We’re bound to have some supporters in the big outlets, and tomorrow, a lot of the smaller publications will also have their say. I think that the small, independent outlets will be our finest allies.”
“The morning edition is also when you’re expecting the worst to happen,” Gosling said to Raven, unable to summon his game face. He worried that she might start twisting his ears, which were still tender from earlier. “If the smaller publications are kind to us, I say we need to start giving them exclusive access. Make friends.”
“That’s a dangerous game.” As Blueblood spoke, he tugged the wine bottle away from Raven. “A very dangerous game indeed.” He took a drink of wine and then belched while pounding his barrel.
“Let me make friends with them.” Gosling lifted his head and rested his forelegs upon the table. “Let me do what I do… deal with all sorts of ponies as part of my day to day job as a communications specialist. I do a lot more than just occupy the telegraph bench.”
“We have ourselves a go getter,” Raven said, sighing as she spoke the words.
“I know it is early to bring this up, but we need to start planning for a gala.” Blueblood grimaced, his jaw clenching and his body shuddered. “This wine is awful. Oh stars, Raven did you just try to poison me with a cheap and fruity Merlot?”
“A gala,” Celestia said, rolling her eyes and then glancing at the door once more.
“A gala so your consort can announce his intentions.” Raven ignored Blueblood’s dramatic theatrics and offered no reactions when his eyes rolled back into his skull and he went still, appearing to be quite dead in his chair. Looking Celestia in the eye, Raven said, “‘Tis a pity that Blueblood has died, but in death, he will have stiffness I craved from him in life.”
“Hey!” Blueblood whined in a nasal voice as he jerked his head up. His face turned red as the ponies around the table all started to laugh. “You never had it so good!”
“Blueblood, with you, I can never tell if it’s half full or half empty—”
“Raven!” Celestia covered her mouth with a hoof and tried to withhold her laughter. A tear rolled down Celestia’s cheek. “Must you you two be so awful to one another?”
“We have to stay in top form,” Raven replied, blinking her wide, innocent looking eyes at Celestia. “He’s my sparring partner. He gives as good as he gets. We have the perfect relationship.”
“No thanks to Cadance,” Blueblood grumbled.
“Cadance brought you together?” Gosling asked.
“Yes,” Blueblood and Raven replied together.
“But we cannot reveal our relationship due to complications.” Blueblood scowled and shook his head. “So I am forced to act the part of the elusive, out of reach playboy, the rich, snobby jerk that no mare is good enough for.”
“And I must remain the devoted secretary that is married to her job.” Raven lifted up the wine bottle and began guzzling down the contents.
“I don’t get it,” Gosling said, shaking his head.
“Conflicts of interest, professionalism, a variety of issues,” Blueblood replied with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “It isn’t easy being a royal. Shining Armor didn’t understand it either, not back then, but he understands it now. Our lives are not our own.”
The door to the room opened and Blueblood watched with a wary eye as an old mare came into the room, pushing a tea trolley in front of her. The sweet, fragrant, nose tingling scent of tea and cinnamon filled the room. Gosling’s head whipped about and a pendulous ribbon of drool dangled from the corner of his mouth as his nostrils flared.
“Oh, yuck!” Celestia yanked a napkin from the trolley as it drew nearer and began wiping Gosling’s face, trying to scrub the dangling, swinging string of slobber away.
The old mare sighed and shook her head. “Pegasi. Such visceral creatures. Get them excited and they start drooling.”
“Or you find them in the birdbath,” Raven said in a knowing voice.
“That’s tribalist!” Gosling retorted as he tried to pull his muzzle free from Celestia’s efforts.
“I’m married to a pegasus,” the old unicorn mare said as she turned her wary, weary gaze upon Gosling. “After being married to him for almost forty years, I can make a few safe assumptions about pegasi.”
Gosling, now free of the napkin, stared at the old mare, or tried to, his eyes looking down at the cinnamon buns piled up on a tray. He licked his lips and tried not to drool, as that would just be embarrassing at this point.
“Some part of him is always real happy to see me and he drools.” The old mare set the teapot out on the table. “Some part of him is always drooling.” The mare began setting out teacups, creamer pots, and sugar bowls. “Almost forty years in, and he still tries to show off his wingspan every chance he gets. What is it with pegasi and their wingspan? I never did get that.” The old mare blinked. “And mirrors… why is it that a pegasus can’t pass a mirror without puffing up and showing off their wings to their reflections?”
Gosling’s face darkened and he slumped down in his chair. “You wouldn’t understand.” They just wouldn’t understand the age old question, ‘who’s a pretty pony?’ It was a question, perhaps the question, that might provide the meaning of life.
The old mare lifted up three cinnamon buns off of the tray, placed them on a plate, and set them in front of Gosling. She hummed to herself as she finished serving tea, her head bobbing, and then her eyes went wide as she remembered something within the tea trolley’s lower cabinet. Grinning, she opened the cabinet and pulled out whole bunch of little quartered sandwiches. She set the platter down upon the table, bowed her head, and then began to wheel the tea trolley out.
She stopped at the door, turning her head so that she could look at Gosling and Celestia. She cleared her throat and smiled when she saw that Gosling already had half of a cinnamon bun in his mouth.
“My mother told me not to marry him. She said he was too flighty. ‘Pegasi are too much like birds,’ she said.” The old mare’s ears stood up straight. “She said to marry a good sensible earth pony or another unicorn. I’m glad I didn’t listen to my mother. He’s been my best friend and the love of my life. He preens those wings of his for me. He struts for me… he makes me feel like a princess. It’s worth the drooling and trying to pull him out of any water that he finds.” Smiling, the old mare pushed her way out the door, which closed behind her with a click.
Turning her head away from the door, Celestia looked over at Gosling. Lowering her head, she leaned over and kissed him upon the cheek, then sat up, her affectionate gaze never leaving him as he gobbled down his cinnamon bun.
“Stuff like that always makes me feel better about life,” Raven said as she levitated herself some sandwich quarters over. “It makes me feel better about all of the bickering and fighting. It makes everything worth it.” Raven’s stomach gurgled and she crammed a whole quarter sandwich into her mouth.
“This is why we do what we do.” Looking disgusted, Blueblood wiped away some mustard from the corner of Raven’s mouth.
Raven swallowed and as Celestia poured herself some tea, she looked over at Gosling, who was working on his third cinnamon bun already. “Tomorrow, I need you on active duty again. Be ready by dawn. Be well rested. I’m putting you to work. We can’t have the press thinking that we have another lazy, roustabout prince just lounging around the castle.”
Mouth full, Gosling nodded.
“Don’t worry, I won’t work you to death, tomorrow is just for show. But I need you in armor and ready to make deliveries. It will be good to make it appear that you are working. Prepare to have every eye in Equestria watching you.”
Gosling nodded again.
Leaning over, Celestia kissed Gosling on the cheek a second time, unable to resist being affectionate. After hearing the old mare, Celestia was in a loving mood. “But the only eyes that matter are mine, never forget that, my little cockerel...”
Stats
Page generated in 0.036 seconds
Total duration
1,040 users online
1,559,044 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Heh nice!! Loving the rapid chapter updates!!
Uhh.........you doing alright there kudz?
7153769
Um, channeling my inner pegasus?
7153463 They'll all be too busy being on fire.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2014/7/14/674826.jpg
No I'm the prettiest boy!
I understand! I understand everything
Gotta say, I was skeptical about the first tribes thing-- but i love how it's all coming together :)
Also, for the little it's worth--someone, years ago, said that in their headcanon, Silver Spoon was "pony-jewish"... I've always kinda held on to that, so I love how you're developing your (completely unrelated) idea.
Bit Mitzvah was definitely worth a face-hoof :)
7153770
Just checkin.
I'm just adoring these characterizations, I can't say it enough.
Keeping them out of bird feeders is another issue with pegasi, I bet...
img13.deviantart.net/b641/i/2012/366/3/c/get_out_of_my_bird_feeder__by_mattings-d5px3me.png
Someone's going to take a shot at him, aren't they?
And I do mean the kind that leaves red, sticky jam running down the coat.
Speaking of bits, from the writing rate the author appears to have taken theirs in teeth and is running with it.
And he's always had fun with pegasi antics.
The only worry I have on this one is that bit mitzvah. I'm guessing you're using it as a universal for both the bar mitzvah (boys) and bat mitzvah (girls). The worry is that some may not understand the combination and assume you're making light of the tradition.
I honestly like what you've done. I'm just glad that BB didn't ask if he'd had his bris yet....
7154068
I was thinking 'bridle bit.'
In the first draft, it was Barn Mitzvah, which just seemed bad.
7154082
Yeah, that would have been baaaaaad. (Sorry, my Welsh slipped there.)
Now Gosling, this isn't a runway.
7153770 Laughed at that. That reply comment with that avatar of yours. Perfect.
My Grandmother used to raise peackocks, let it be known they are all prissy, stuck-up, showoffs that have zero shame.
Pegasi behaving like birds is one of the absolute best things to come out of this fandom.
Also, I'm really loving your rate of updates. Just... please don't burn yourself out.
7153772 ooh! Marshmallows, anyone?
7154261
To be fair, peacocks are magnificent bastards. They KNOW they looks good.
You can usually avoid it by refusing to apologize. Apologies are considered confessions of guilt and reason to continue attacking, these days.
Bwahahaha, lost it
Hmn, this First Tribe thing might be something worth trying, but it's hard to say.
I can't even. I have lost the ability to even.
I definitely like this pegasi = birds idea.
Oh gosh I love the kismesis-type relationship between Raven and Blueblood. I need more.
oooohhhh!
heh.
7154015 Due to the high rate of using food as ammunition in Equestria (when you're a super strong earth pony, everything is a weapon) I have to ask if you mean blood or actual jam.
Bluey & Raven slinging each other off and this talk of pegasi birds reminds me of this rude parrot toy I got from a local nick-nack shop, press it's stomach and it hurls 1 of 6 insults at you. My favourite 'Who's a pretty Polly, who's a pretty Polly, not your lardass, heh heh!'
Edit:
7153777
The fact she looks fried chicken sitting on a plate (shadow) and that I am a black man makes this perfect for me.
7337317
Oh my gosh, that's awesome! I want one.
7702999 Posted a video of him on my previous comment, sorry for bad camera, my phone is 9 yr's old.
I imagine the diamond dogs would have aa parallel to your pegasi. "Who's the goodest boy". The goodest boy shall be proclaimed king of doggos.
Get them excited and they start drooling.
I don’t think so. They are still pretty racist.