The Seven Ages of Pony

by ObabScribbler

Age 2: The Schoolboy

Age 2:
And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.

----

The aspect of longevity most ponies fail to grasp is that one must unstick oneself from time a little to prevent oneself from going mad. To an ordinary pony a year is a very long time, five years is too long to plan for and eighty years is a lifetime. To an alicorn, eighty years is comparable to eighty seconds in our lifetime. I know with great certainty that, provided no-one seeks out the darkest of dark arts to kill me, I will live forever. That sort of realisation is not one that can be accepted easily. One must change the shape of one’s mind and store it away inside as a fact to be recognised and acknowledged but not allowed near the forefront of the brain. I tried to explain this to a close friend once long ago and the best I could come up with was that most ponies are aware of the existence of hydras but fear of hydras is not something they think about 100% of the time. I think he understood. He was a very clever pony and understood most things I fumblingly tried to explain the nuances of alicorn existence to him, spurred by his nodding and noises of comprehension. One also develops other methods of coping with an eternity of life. Companionship was always a key facet for Luna and I; the knowledge that there was somepony else out there who not only understood but shared our unique perspective on the nature of existence, time and mortality. Without her, eternity stretched before me, vast and lonely. My mind recognised that if it was to stop itself tipping over the edge into insanity in her absence, new coping methods would have to be developed.

Canterlot had long since thrived into a bustling city the day I decided to open a school in it. No, not just a school. My school.

“A school, your highness? But there are already plenty of schools - one per district in fact.”

The Canterlot City Council stared back at me with the polite dismay one might exhibit if at a refined dinner party the host vomited up frogs whenever they spoke.

“Not an ordinary school,” I corrected softly. “A school I shall run myself.”

This, of course, was met with much muttering and knitting of brows. The council ran most day to day parts of the city and tended to think of themselves as the ones in charge, while I was more of a figurehead with one hoof in the past. They thought I wasn’t aware of this and I was content to let them think it.

Mostly.

“Are you sure, your highness?” asked the same stallion who had already spoken. He had beetling brows that blended so well into his brown coat it seemed that his whole forehead was one giant frown. “Would you even have time for such an endeavour?”

“I shall make the time,” I replied, keeping my tone even and velvet. “This is not a snap decision, Councillor Inkwell. I have been planning this outreach for some time.”

“Outreach?” queried a mare with a beehive mane-do that flopped slightly into her eyes. She looked so much like her mother, a previous council-pony with whom I had spent many years in boring meetings, that for a moment I couldn’t decide on her name.

“Indeed, Councillor Wishful. While you are correct that Canterlot does indeed have many schools, the same cannot be said for all parts of Equestria. I have been receiving visits from ponies who hail from our more far-flung towns and villages about ... “ How could I best phrase it? Unicorn fillies and colts of such unusual magical strength they accidentally caused spontaneous combustion, earthquakes and other disasters? “Untrained youngsters of magical persuasions who require schooling their geographical areas simply cannot provide.”

“Are you suggesting that they come here?”

“Why not?”

“How would they pay for their schooling?”

“My dear councillor, they would not have to.”

Her beehive nearly fell off her head in shock. “Are you suggesting a school comprised entirely of scholarships?”

“The royal coffers shall cover any costs needed, and yes, that is exactly what I suggest. My school will not be a large one. I intend to take in only the most talented ponies in Equestria and nurture them as the future generation of magic-users.”

“To what end?” asked a grey unicorn stallion with a mouth like a twist of wire.

“The betterment of our country, Councillor Silk Spell.” I allowed a hint of steel to enter my own voice. His wiry mouth twisted down. “Our foals are our future, whether they come from Canterlot, Trottingham, Gallopville or even the Everfree Forest. All ponies are equal in unified Equestria, as you well know.”

He made a noise that might have been agreement but could easily have been wind. “Even so, your majesty, such an undertaking would be taking away from -”

“From what, councillor?” I asked so softly that had they all not be attuned to me, they would have missed it. Luna used to favour shouting but I preferred a gentler approach; a steel resolve lined with silver on my tongue. I had laid out my plans in a document given to all the councillors in advance of this meeting. This was supposed to be just for them to qualify any details from that. Instead, they seemed hung up on the mere idea of what I planned. Their intrinsic snobbery bothered me. “This is a personal project of mine. You will see the financial outline on page 83 and the logistical explanations on pages 34 through 44.”

“Yes.” A small blue pegasus with a shock of white mane that seemed sculpted of pure cloud raised her hoof. Her eyes were fixed on the document, which she had been leafing through since the start of the meeting. I saw with some satisfaction that she had made her own notes in the margins. “I did have a question about that.”

“Yes, Councillor Quick Bolt?”

“Under faculty.” She tapped the page. “You intend to recruit from outside Equestrian borders?”

“I intend to seek out the best teachers I can, wherever they are.”

“So … non-ponies then? Griffons? Zebras?” She raised her eyes at last, fixing me with a hard green stare. “Dragons perhaps?”

Internally I stumbled. Externally I retained my poise. I had a lot of practise at that. Griffonstone and Zebrica were on my list of places to venture for teachers. After all, what use is a special school for gifted students without specially gifted teachers to guide them? Dragons, however …

“Perhaps not dragons,” I replied.

Councillor Quick Bolt nodded minimally.

“Zebras and griffins living in Canterlot!?” thundered Councillor Inkwell. “Preposterous! We cannot allow that, your majesty!”

“I would have thought networking with our neighbours would be a very wise course of action, Inkwell,” Councillor Quick Bolt answered before I could. “Do we forever want to be known as ‘the country that attracted Nightmare Moon?’ I think that an outreach program that incorporates all classes, races and nationalities could be very beneficial to Equestria. It might even open up trade possibilities with some of our more … intransigent neighbours.”

“What, Minotauria?” snorted Councillor Inkwell.

“Among others.” Councillor Quick Bolt snapped her document shut and tapped her forehooves together. “Princess Celestia, while I do think there are some bugs to be ironed out in your plans, I believe they are not only workable but a genuinely good idea. You have my support.”

“Thank you, Councillor Quick Bolt.” I looked around at the other gathered ponies. “And the rest of the council?”

Councillor Wishful pushed her mane from her eyes and sighed. “I do see some benefit in this venture, though maybe not as many as my colleague.” Her eyes slid to Quick Bolt but couldn’t hold her stare for long. “You have my support too, your majesty.”

Gradually, one by one, the councillors nodded their assent until only Inkwell was left. His brows beetled so hard that I could barely see his eyes anymore.

“My princess,” he harrumphed. “Since I am clearly outvoted, I will also support you in this endeavour. Though I will say now that I do not think it is a good idea, nor do I think it will succeed.” He folded his forelegs and refused to meet anyone’s gaze. I heard him mutter in what he thought was an inaudible huff: “It’ll fail within the year anyway.”

I nodded politely at him, as I had with all the councillors before him. “You have my thanks, Councillor Inkwell.”

The meeting fell to more mundane topics, the highlight of which was the repair cost of a water fountain in one of the richest districts. I pointed out that repairs to a decorative feature were less important than repairing pipes for drinking water to less affluent areas, which was met with varying degrees of assent. No matter the generation, somehow the elite never change.

Finally the meeting ended and everypony disbanded. I made my way to the exit.

“Princess?”

I looked around.

“A word, if I may?”

“Of course, Councillor Quick Bolt.”

She drew level with me and touched down, folding in her wings with the elegance of an aristocrat accepting a drink at the Grand Galloping Gala. “Simply Quick Bolt is sufficient, if that behooves you, Majesty.”

“It does indeed. What can I do for you?”

“I would like to aid you in your school project with more than simply a vote in a council meeting.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “There are some pegasi in Cloudsdale and other places who have exhibited … odd tendencies of late.”

I frowned a little. In all honesty I had envisioned the school as a purely unicorn project, since those were the fillies and colts I had heard about, but her words gave me pause. “Odd tendencies?”

“Exhibiting talents one might have expected more in unicorns or earth ponies.”

“Such as?”

“Talking with animals and understanding their responses, for example.” She cut her eyes at me. “And potion brewing.”

I raised my eyebrows at her. “Potions? In Cloudsdale?”

“Some young pegasi have moved into ground-bound towns and picked up … skills unsuited to them.”

“Unsuited?” I said carefully.

She sighed brisky. “To speak plain and honest, they’re developing special talents one would expect to see in unicorns and earth ponies, not pegasi. They are even receiving cutie marks for these talents. At present I am unsure as to whether this would still happen if they had stayed in purely pegasi settlements but the idea is moot. Mixing pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies into single villages and towns is having some unforeseen results. As leaders, I feel it is our duty to safeguard these ponies - both from themselves and from the reactions of those who do not fully understand what is happening in our unified land.”

I sensed there was more to her words than she was saying. “Have there been negative ‘reactions’ as you put it?”

She allowed a silence to percolate between us before responding. “Wing clipping. I have come across several incidents of it. Sometimes by parents of those who develop non-pegasus cutie marks. Some of the ponies who were interviewed communicated that if their offspring insisted on acting like ground-dwellers, they decided to make them … resemble ground-dwellers more. In one particularly bad case, the afflicted colt’s family went further and sheared his wings off at the shoulders.”

I was appalled. I realised my mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. “That is unacceptable - ”

“It is the product of old ways meeting progress, Princess. A new world cannot be achieved without sacrifice.” Quick Bolt closed her eyes briefly. “Even if we may truly wish it could be. This is why I support your idea of a school for exceptional and unique young ones to learn about their talents. I believe in it at its core. Education is a far better tool to aid progress than lawmaking or force.”

I considered her words behind a stoic mask. “Very well then. If you would write up your proposal as an addendum to my own I will look it over.”

She nodded and respectfully withdrew.

I considered her words as I returned to my chambers. Pegasi developing the skills of unicorns and earth ponies? I wondered whether the same was true of other fillies and colts. Earth pony fillies with a talent for runes, perhaps, or unicorns born with a love of heights and weather manipulation?

A new world cannot be achieved without sacrifice.

It was with a troubled mind that I retired the sun that evening and raised the moon. I traced the outline of my sister with my eyes and wondered what she would say about such a fundamental change in our little ponies.

“What would you think?” I said aloud, as if I expected an actual response.

A new world cannot be achieved without sacrifice.

I turned away from the moon and quietly set about amending my plans.

Comments

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

A new world cannot be achieved without sacrifice.

That is true, unfortunately....

[RK_Striker_JK_5]

It's good... although a meddling council is not something I've liked before. Sorry, old memories of otherwise good fics that are ruined by playing up the worst fanon stereotypes of Canterlot. For this fic, it's not so bad.

[Freglz]

Wing clipping.

That is... disturbingly realistic. Although I must wonder what became of this addendum to the proposal.

A bit of unwarranted editing advice; recognise and avoid redundant words.

“Are you sure, your highness?” asked the same stallion who had already spoken.

"Who had already spoken" is unnecessary if you've already mentioned the speaker is the same person.

Sorry.

Good chapter, by the way, and I'm not sad to see that I was wrong about the Ginger Root storyline.

[FanficReader920]

Wow, what an origin story for Celestia's school.

[Skywriter]

Immortality seems great for a while, but then I remember that there was this awkward social encounter in Disneyland four years ago that I'm still beating myself up over. I'm only in my 40s and already sometimes I think I have too much baggage to bear--and this from a relatively uneventful life. I don't know how immortals would even manage it.