Maestro
It had felt like love.
How many visits had there been? He couldn't remember their very first meeting: he didn't know anypony who was capable of recalling the day of their own birth. Some of the earliest follow-ups would have been lost to the fog which almost inevitably closed in over the first few years of life: at best, Snowflake could bring back fragments, fleeting impressions triggered by familiar scents and sights, often gone as quickly as they had arrived. But after that...
One, perhaps two in a typical year. Looked at in that regard, it might not have sounded like much. But his first friend
my only friend
had possessed an exceptionally busy life, one where the calls for his services were bound by neither clock nor calendar. Simply to spare a few hours for a single foal could take extraordinary effort, and then you had to include a simple four-word fact: unicorn visiting Las Pegasus. He couldn't cast the cloudwalking spell, and that meant he had to pay for the enchantment every time. He would trot across the vapor with Snowflake, humorously grumbling about the disorientation and how the amount of time required to stop waiting for the inevitable plummet was also the exact duration required for the spell to start wearing off. And the colt, for whom clouds were forever tacky to the touch, making him feel like he was forever on the verge of sinking, had been able to relate.
One foal granted time under Sun. One out of -- hundreds? Thousands? For most midwives, it would have been little more than an exceptionally good day: you did the work, you basked in a little personal pride, and then you retired to bed while hoping not to fail tomorrow. For somepony as busy as Doctor Gentle, it would have been reasonable for Snowflake to have become lost in the shuffle, even as the only capless pegasus birth the stallion would ever see. But he'd kept coming back. He wanted to see how that foal was doing, to talk about his life. To give the colt somepony he could speak with and in time, somepony he would write to. A stallion he told things which had been shared with nopony else, the first to learn of the plan which so many others had regarded as if it had been proposed directly by Discord, minus one crucial talon snap.
And if it had been anypony else...
"Do you truly believe it's possible? To fly through strength alone?"
They are taking a trot together along the outermost rim of the Spiral. It's among the least populated sections of the settled zone and at this time of day, it gives them something which almost approaches privacy. The colt relishes those moments when it can almost feel as if it is just himself and that lone friend, the times when he can look up and not find feathers obscuring just about every view.
He is crippled. He knows it. In the event that he ever manages to momentarily forget, there are those in his class who will be sure to remind him. A few of those, the leaders in the race, are just starting to find the sky. They also take the time to inform him that he never will.
His parents refused ground, wanted him to have the most normal life possible. But he isn't normal. He never will be. (It will turn out that in so many ways, he never was.) And on ground, there would have been those who shared his handicap. Two-thirds of the population. In that sense, there would have been company.
But those ponies never could have flown at all. While he had still been in the womb, he had possessed the same potential as any pegasus. And at the moment of his birth, it had all gone away.
There are no earth ponies or unicorns in this part of Las Pegasus, not as permanent residents. A small community at ground level around the outer rim of the Spiral, just beyond the eternal shade from the clouds -- and that's it. Reach the vapor, and you live among those who can either already fly or know they someday will. All except for him.
In more populated areas, he looks up, and the everyday sounds of normalcy come across as mocking laughter.
He's been quiet for a little too long: he often is. He is small (although his height will soon begin to increase) and his handicap has made him shy. But his friend is waiting for his answer.
"Yes."
A long pause. It's only in the discussion: they continue to trot, and it means they are now moving past a house where the most expensive aspect goes all the way to the edge of the street. It's among the colt's favorite places in the city, especially since the owner never bothered to put up any fence.
"This may not mean much to you," the unicorn finally says, perhaps aware on some level that his response may mean just about everything. "But from the experience of my own life, I can say that the first step in reaching a goal is to set it --" he briefly pauses again, smiles "-- and I think you already know that. But the second is just as vital. To believe it's possible. After all, if you don't truly feel you can accomplish something, then you won't give it your best effort. In that sense, faith in oneself is as important as anything else. You believe it can be done, Snowflake. Do you believe you can do it?"
He closes his eyes. Trots within the coolness of the stallion's shadow, feels his own path veer slightly to the right, and the new touch against his hooves comforts him.
"Yes." Even when his parents don't. Even when nopony does. Nopony except --
"That's the most important part," the unicorn softly says. "The third, of course, is optional for the unfortunate: to have somepony else who believes in you and supports your efforts." The colt can hear the smile. "Fortunately, you already have that requirement filled. Please update me in your letters, until I can visit again. And don't be afraid to include what you might see as the boring parts."
The colt smiles. Stops, basks in the sunlight of a warm spring day. The support.
There's a little bemusement in the stallion's voice. "You're aware of what you're standing upon, correct?"
"I stay out of the flowers," he softly replies. "It's just... this part. The owners don't mind..."
"One of the rarest sights for any pegasus city," the unicorn quietly notes. "Imagine the expense involved in importing the soil required for a lawn. And to make it bloom, when the Effect is so far out of range... that requires true dedication. Do you like it, Snowflake?"
"Yeah." He likes it more than just about everything.
"Why?" As questions go, it's a casual one.
"It just..." The colt doesn't have the words. There is no way to describe a feeling of comfort which reaches his soul. "...feels right. It feels better. I just like standing here."
Soil pushes back against his hooves. Soil offers a place to be. Soil is... right.
The adult moves, comes onto the imported ground. Stands next to him, takes an audible breath.
"To me," the stallion says, "this smells like home." Wryly, "Except for the flowers. Nothing can make Trotter's Falls produce these flowers."
Like home...
And the next words stay with the colt for the rest of his life. They echo during the lonely workouts, they push him through the pain, they serve as a shield against the loneliness and the growing feeling of isolation. They give the colt something to live for.
"Visit me someday, Snowflake," Gentle Arrival requests. "When you can fly to me."
They are words of love.
...he might have never tried at all.
Canterlot was getting closer. The spires of the place were beginning to resolve in his vision: he was perhaps a few minutes away from moving into fully-controlled weather again. He often had trouble detecting that: his feel for techniques was as weak as his magic. There were pegasi who could detect borders simply by crossing them --
-- I'm not --
-- no.
Denial was another kind of shield. It was also impetus, that which steadily propelled him towards the city, flap after impossible flap.
He loves me.
But Fluttershy loved him.
Loved him as a brother.
(They had connected during that first meeting, and it had been just that: a connection between two ponies who had a friend in common.)
(Two ponies who shared something else.)
(Ponies who hadn't known.)
He never would have done that to --
Two adult mares in two days: one could not lie to him, the other would not. And Fluttershy was fully capable of lying, although most of her falsehoods came out when she could no longer stand to be within a crowd and typically concerned having just seen somepony she really needed to speak with: the fictional entity would inevitably be standing just outside the nearest exit. It didn't mean she was good at lying -- but in her case, the hesitations and stammers produced by the nerves surrounding a poorly-constructed tale were the same as those found in her normal speech: combine that with the way her mane tended to obscure her features, and most ponies had a lot of trouble in reading her. You needed a lot of experience with Fluttershy before you could reliably figure out when she was trying to get away with a bluff, and entering a card game against her was truly ill-advised.
She could lie. But she didn't lie to him. She had been there, in Trotter's Falls. It had happened. All of it had happened, and so much of him understood that. If he had been willing to hear the true core of his own thoughts, he would have picked up on the screaming.
She had been there, and it had happened -- but there was also denial, the last desperate gasps insisting that it couldn't have happened that way. That something must have been misunderstood.
There was somepony else involved in this. Somepony he had to speak with. The other side of the story, the right side, something which was getting closer with every flap of lifelong-broken wings.
Fluttershy had told Snowflake everything. And in doing so, she'd told him where to go.
The majority of ponies who were asked to think of Canterlot would likely imagine the palace. However, there were a number of studious types who might picture the Archives first, while devoted shoppers would send their inner vision to the Heart and its many exclusive stores. There were probably even a few whose foremost thoughts went to the Tangle, although they generally weren't ponies you wanted to meet: many things could be found in those narrow winding streets, and more than a few had been purposefully lost.
You pictured Canterlot, and you imagined stability and wealth, leadership and protection. You didn't think about prisons.
Snowflake was vaguely aware that there were cells under the palace: somepony had mentioned it to Fluttershy, and she'd passed it along to him. But those were supposedly for elite prisoners: say, the commander of the army which Equestria just happened to be at war with. (It had been a long time since the last war, and Fluttershy had been under the impression that those cells had been vacant a lot longer than that.) A prison under the palace: it was a strange concept, until somepony had further explained that it could also be thought of as keeping those you truly needed to negotiate with at a very small, extremely enforced distance. But it wasn't used.
Many ponies, asked to picture a prison, would instinctively shiver as phantom cold soaked into their bones, for Tartarus was said to be chill. Dark, damp, cold -- and with all of those qualities fully proof against pony magic. But for the average citizen, Tartarus existed more as concept than location. It was supposedly the final destination of the worst the world had to offer and given that, nopony wanted to think about the place for too long -- let alone what might be confined there. When it came to oaths, you swore by the Princess and you cursed by Tartarus. Something bad in your life which had clearly escaped from the pit was Tartarus-freed: anything which needed to be put there was Tartarus-chained. It was all the regard most ponies gave it, lest their thoughts approach the border and grow cold.
Tartarus was the prison -- but Tartarus was for monsters, including those who turned out to have been clothed in pony skins. For the more conventional sort of criminal, along with those who were awaiting their trial, there were other options.
Ponyville, while atypical in many ways, still used the solution of the typical small settled zone: a few holding cells built into the police station, and any overflow during the tri-annual drinking festival slept it off among the basement-held minutes of Town Hall meetings: having those papers for sole reading company could sober somepony up in a hurry. There was also a small courthouse for minor matters, and Scootaloo had spent a lot of time listening to damages for civil judgments being brought against her. But anything beyond that, and the matter went to Canterlot.
Snowflake had been summoned to that much larger marble courthouse: his one-and-so-far-only call to jury duty. (It had also been his lone trip into the capital. He didn't like traveling: every new settled zone was a place which had no experience in dealing with him, and Ponyville's steadily-increasing population meant he still inadvertently startled somepony every few days.) It hadn't taken long for multiple opposing teams of attorneys to decide that none of them wanted to risk discovering his opinion on any matter, just in case somepony so intimidating wound up spreading that opinion around through, say, holding still for a while. Snowflake presumed motionlessness to have been a threatening act, because it was the only thing he'd gotten the chance to do before dismissal.
But a courthouse, simply through existing, implied the existence of a prison. And he'd never really thought about that before.
It has to be a mistake.
It wasn't.
It took some time to find: he wasn't particularly good at asking for directions, and for a pony of his build to inquire where the local jail was... there were citizen reactions and after the second one, he quickly realized that the only variation might be the exact direction of desperate escape. But eventually, he spotted a Canterlot police officer, managed to find enough words to explain that he was just trying to visit a friend. The earth pony stallion was then gracious (or paranoid) enough to lead Snowflake directly there, and that was something which took a while.
It was effectively located behind the city, far enough around the curve of the mountain as to be fully blocked from Ponyville's view, and there was no residential district of Canterlot which could gain so much as a glimpse. This was deliberate: the prison was too large to be covered by a single shield dome, but multiple unicorns were maintaining castings over high-risk sections: the mingled glows did harsh things to the local atmosphere's hues and presumably would have lowered a few property values.
The air above the shields rippled in waves. It tilted, felt as if it was cascading over the ground structure. Approaching the prison from the ground, even in daylight, gave Snowflake the sensation of walking up to a grey-tilted aurora borealis -- one which was on the verge of tipping over.
Perhaps the prison had been a castle once and if so, he didn't understand what it was doing here: every bit of history he knew said there had only been one palace in Canterlot, and the sisters had directed its construction. But there were the ruins in the Everfree, and there was... this. Harsh stone, dark grey which lacked any highlights at all. It was made of sharp angles, some of which were severe enough to qualify as spikes: a factor which didn't prevent it from having a few actual ones. Spires had been repurposed to serve as guard towers, and defenses designed to keep everypony from getting in were now dedicated to preventing ponies from getting out.
It rested not only in the shadow of the peak, but it was partially nestled into a huge hollow in the stone. The general impression was that something had sharpened a giant knife against the whetstone of the mountain and in doing so, worn away the world. And that couldn't be right: it was more likely to be the smoothed-out aftermath of an earthquake, rockslide, or the strongest lightning strike ever known. It was just that... something about it didn't feel natural, and he couldn't isolate the reason for that reaction. He just knew looking at it made him feel...
...weak.
The palace, for all its size and mass, was a welcoming place. (This occasionally became literal: Fluttershy had told him that both Princesses held Open Palace sessions, during which anypony could freely approach and speak to royalty -- after standing in what inevitably turned out to be an extremely long line.) This structure, uneven and teetering without ever moving, certain portions looking as if they were on the verge of falling off... it was trying to turn away any who approached. It was rejection as architecture, and perhaps that was what had carved a hollow into the world.
"It's your first time," the officer said, and the words were not unkind.
Snowflake tore his red gaze away from the sharpest spire, managed to focus on the deep blue earth pony.
"It's the tremble," his guide continued. "That little vibration in your knees -- and don't be ashamed of it: just about everypony reacts the same way, unless they've been inside. You're not a pony who's been to prison and you haven't visited before." A little sigh. "It's hardest on the families. I've helped a few kids find their way here, and -- some of them just stop. They start crying, and they do it right about where you're standing." He briefly looked up, at the places where shield energies clashed with the air. "It's meant to do that, I think. That you'll just look at it, and once you see it, you'll do anything to never be inside. But all of the children push on, because that's where their parent is, and they want to see the pony they still love. Sometimes it's their sibling..."
Snowflake's eyes slowly closed.
"It's better inside," the officer gently told him. "It really is."
He nodded. It was something to do.
"Who are you here for?"
It was another piece of strangeness. He'd known Doctor Gentle from the moment of his birth, and he'd always had a term which seemed to apply to the relationship: my first friend. But that didn't include the truest aspect of the relationship between the unicorn and so many of those he'd brought into the world. The part where it was so much like being part of a family.
It has to be a mistake.
"I..." He swallowed. "...I guess you could say it's for my uncle."
It was somewhat better inside.
Colors were brighter, doing their best to soften the stone. There were phonographs in the public waiting areas, playing what was probably meant to be relaxing music. A few prisoners worked in the visitor processing section, and did so alongside the prison's own officers: there was even some friendly chatter.
But it was easy to spot which ponies were the prisoners. Every unicorn had a restraint precisely fitted to their head: all of the pegasi trotted about with bound wings. Fur had been stained with the harshest dye known: alternating stripes of bright yellow and orange around the barrel, something where removal required either three days of dedicated scrubbing or, as his guide told him, a few minutes within a corona -- and the spell which took that dye away was only taught to those who worked for the prison. Unauthorized castings were the most sought-after part of any escape plan, and anypony who helped the fugitives might gain a restraint of their own.
"This is part of the minimum security section," the officer had said just before leaving to resume his shift. "You're seeing the ones who can be trusted a little, where we're hoping they never come back after their release." He'd shrugged. "Sometimes we're even right." One last pause, and then "Do you think you'll be okay from here?"
No.
"...yeah."
"Good luck."
And then it was Snowflake and the line of visitors waiting to go in. It wasn't a long one, and it had far too many children in it.
Some of them turned, when his shadow fell over them. Stared. A few shivered, and he wished for some way to make them feel better. To perhaps become smaller, if only for a little while. To show the younglings that there had been a time when he had been so much like them, only weaker. More frail. Barely clinging to life...
He's the reason I'm alive.
He mustered what little strength he'd seemed to retain.
"I'm just visiting," he whispered to a trembling unicorn filly. "And I'm... I'm scared too."
She didn't say anything. But the trembling stopped.
The line advanced, visitor by visitor. Some of the ponies ahead of him seemed to have been there several times: they were just about waved towards the heavy door, slipped through the gap while it was still opening. Others fumbled speech and tears as they tried to explain who they were there to see, and almost broke down during the why.
Snowflake used the time to consider his words. To wonder if any words would work. And before he could find anything, the spell-protected desk was in front of him.
The pegasus mare harshly looked up. Openly evaluated him as a potential threat, allowed her eyes to roam across every bulge of muscle, paused as she reached the wings. Forced herself to go back to his face.
"First-time visitor?"
"Yeah."
"Who are you here to see?"
He had to force the words. "Doctor --" and stopped. No, somepony wasn't going to be registered in prison under their honorary title. "Gentle Arrival."
Which was when she stared at him.
"Your name," she ordered, and he provided it.
The mare got up from her bench. Left the processing area through the back door. And for twelve minutes, nothing happened. Nopony took her station. The three ponies who were still behind Snowflake in the line began to fidget, and then started trying to find ways of invisibly blaming him. Several workers and prisoners just stared at him, wondering what he'd done. Perhaps trying to figure out whether somepony was about to try arresting him.
And then the mare came back, flanked by a surprisingly slim brown unicorn mare, a pony wearing armor not of gold or silver, but what appeared to be brass. Her body seemed too small to hold up the metal, was almost lost in her own protection -- and the sheer force of her regard nearly drove him back.
She nodded, exactly once.
"Let him through," the armored mare stated. "He's on the list."
The list. It might have been a compilation of ponies whom Doctor Gentle had delivered, in which case, the time required for permission would have been used for reading part of it. It also could have represented the ponies whom his first friend knew to live in the general vicinity, those who would have the least trouble visiting. Either way, Snowflake was on it and since it seemed to grant him permission, he accepted that without question or true thought. There was too much else to think about.
The pegasus silently pointed him towards the heavy door, and he forced stillness-stiffened legs to shuffle in that direction. The unicorn watched him go, and then went directly for the nearest message canister.
A short distance beyond the heavy door, there were multiple rooms designated for visits. Many of them were painted in bright colors, some of them hosted toys, and quite a few had a parent playing with their child for the appointed hour, as best they could with horn or wings bound. The one earth pony prisoner he saw was more prone to simply nuzzling, and did so under close watch.
But he wasn't led to one of those rooms. He was checked for magic. A very nervous guard told Snowflake to spread his wings, looked beneath them for contraband. Then he was ordered to hold still while they shifted through feathers and had it not been for the doctor, it would have sent him out of the prison on the spot. Instead, he felt every muscle go tight: something which, held over the course of three minutes, nearly caused a few injuries on its own.
Two guards found him to be carrying nothing more than a multitude of scars, and so they passed him through, with a third accompanying him. The door closed behind Snowflake just in time to cut off the first of the whispers.
They went past the bright areas. Corridors briefly got them within viewing distance for one row of cells: Snowflake glimpsed soft mattresses and wide bookshelves. Passable scents wafted from a huge kitchen.
But they were still moving through the structure. Back and down. They had started at ground level, and now they were traveling under it. That didn't bother Snowflake: unlike the vast majority of pegasi, he'd never suffered the slightest degree of claustrophobia. Scootaloo could barely stand to enter his basement, needed a steady stream of bluster just to get down the ramp: Snowflake found it comfortable
because I'm not
and it served him well here. It was just that... they kept moving. And as they did, colors dimmed again. Air became still, carried a strange sort of weight. Sounds seemed magnified: a single drip from a faucet pounded against Snowflake's eardrums like the harshest of kicks.
On the upper levels, there were a few windows. Ponies talked, and some even played. But as you went down, that level of normalcy was left behind.
Hues faded, and a distant shout rippled his fur. Somepony cursed, and then they cursed the world.
Another stop. A space between doors, and he was checked again.
He wasn't claustrophobic. But he knew about weight. Just about every pegasus recognized that air had mass: you pushed against it to fly, and everything which took place afterwards could be seen as swimming within the ocean of the sky. Ponies laughed, danced, lived at the bottom of a giant well, one where the pressure of everything above them had been present for their entire lives -- and as the greatest of constants, that pressure was ignored. It had occasionally made him consider what it would be like to escape that ocean, to fly above the surface -- but he was prone to strange thoughts. As a colt, he had wondered what happened to those who entered the shadowlands after dying at birth. Whether they would be newborn foals forever, or somehow aged normally. If they could just choose their age. If they would be... whole. And if death restored what had been lost...
He'd thought about it and as the years had worsened everything, he'd thought about it often. But he'd never done it, for he'd loved his parents, and... it also would have hurt his friend.
Down and back, over and over, the temperature dropping all the while, moving deeper into the levels guarded by earth and rock. To where grey ended and black began. Into the wounded heart of the injury done to the world.
And finally, there was one last door. It had two windows: one at the typical eye level, plus another for those who might have been hovering -- and the distortion of the glass told him that door was just about as thick as his own body.
He could see a short hallway. At the end, there were closely-spaced iron bars going from floor to ceiling, with just enough width between them for a snout to pass through. And at the far right edge, the briefest hint of warm mauve.
"Before you go in there," the guard said, "I want to make a few things clear."
Snowflake silently waited.
"You're doing this at your own risk," that guard continued. "If anything happens, you can call for help, and I'll do whatever I can. It doesn't mean anypony can get you out in time. Do you understand?"
It was one of the occasions where the word sufficed. "Yeah."
"Whatever he says to you, whatever he does -- we don't control any of that. We can't."
He's my friend... "Yeah."
"There may be an interruption. He has ponies coming down at least twice a day." And before Snowflake could even think to ask, "But you're his first formal visitor, at least when it comes to the list."
The first? Snowflake supposed it made sense: the mission had been classified, and so news of the incarceration hadn't spread. But some of his had to work in the palace --
"-- you're clear on all that?"
"Yeah."
"Twenty minutes. No more."
Snowflake nodded.
The door was exceptionally heavy, and not very well-balanced. He had to help the guard push.
The grumbling warmed him, for it was familiar. A stallion who insisted on visiting old patients needed to do a lot of things on the go, and one of those was studying. He had read to Snowflake from boring journal articles, simply because they were boring and having two laughing at how dreadfully uninteresting they were seemed to make them better.
But even when alone, the unicorn sometimes grumbled to himself as he read. He liked to bounce ideas off others and when there was nopony else around, there were worse ideas than setting up an echo.
"Ha-be-as cor-pus -- of course half of this is Griffonant: a society which sees lawsuits as a means of advancement is going to dominate the terminology. They could at least allow a pony to defend himself in Equestrian --" and then aging ears registered the hoofsteps, raised and rotated.
There were grey flecks at the edges of those ears now. More around the muzzle. But the head came up quickly and when those kind orange eyes saw him, they became bright with something very much like youth.
"Snowflake! Sun and Moon, Snowflake...!"
And then that inner light was coated in moisture.
Snowflake galloped forward, pulled up just short of the bars as Doctor Gentle pushed forward, as much as that cruel spacing and the horrible restraint on his head would allow, something which made a ticking and tapping sound as all of their eyes closed, multiple tears falling to the stone floor while the two nuzzled, the nuzzle meant for family.
They stayed like that for a while, and more tears fell. A few soaked into paper.
"I knew it," Doctor Gentle stated. "I knew that you would come. You, out of all of mine... that you would be among the first to learn, and the first to seek me." He pulled back a little, managed a smile. "Well, it was simple common sense, realizing that Flutttershy would most likely tell you first. But for you to come..."
"I had to." Snowflake blinked his own tears away. "I had to see you."
His first friend sighed, and the sound was a wounded one. "I only wish you weren't seeing me like this." His head briefly bowed, and the clockwork on the restraint ticked along. "Well, allow me to at least clean up for company."
His head went further down, and began to nose along the many tomes. Clearing more space to stand. And it hurt to watch, for Doctor Gentle had been a pegasus colt's first experience with unicorn magic. His first friend had read to him and no matter how boring the article was, the silver light would make the pages dance. That light was buried, locked away, restrained...
...but some of it was still in the orange eyes.
Doctor Gentle glanced up, chuckled. "Yes, reduced to colthood. It has been a rather awkward transition. One seldom realizes how much they do via corona until its use is denied."
"What are you reading?" Because the books took up nearly a quarter of the little cell, overflowed the shelves and shored up the pillow on the thin mattress.
"Law books. I've retained attorneys, but all things considered, I thought it best to raise a hoof in my own defense." It triggered another smile. "After all, who would understand the case better than the one at the heart of it?" Which was accompanied by the familiar, beloved twinkle in his eyes. "And really, how difficult could something be if lawyers do it?"
On any other day, Snowflake might not have laughed. Certainly not if the words had come from any other pony. But his soul was floundering, and desperation expressed itself as mirth.
The older stallion straightened, and his eyes were still twinkling -- but that light faded as his tone softened.
"She told you?"
"...yeah."
Lightly chiding, "Snowflake..."
"...yes."
Doctor Gentle sighed.
"What did she tell you?"
He swallowed. "Everything. Or... what she said was everything. That's part of why I came. I wanted to see you, but... I also wanted to hear what you had to say. Because there's at least two sides to every story. I wanted yours."
He loved his near-sister. (He didn't want to think about why.) He loved his first friend. (He always had.) The two had been brought into conflict, and he didn't want to pick a winning side. He wanted --
-- fix this.
You can say something which makes this better. I know you can. You always did.
You can't be what she said you are. You're here in front of me, and even in this cell, with that horrible restraint, you're... normal.
You can make me normal again. You just have to say the right words...
The unicorn slowly nodded, briefly reared up somewhat and glanced over Snowflake's broad back. Visibly winced on the landing, just ahead of the gasp.
"Doctor?" Snowflake knew what pain sounded like.
"A lingering effect from the misadventure," the elder told him, adding the dismissive, uneven wave of a right forehoof. "It's being treated. And regardless, it's a subject for later. Right now... I want you to know how proud I am." (And the words warmed him.) "That you decided you wanted to hear me -- it is a mark of maturity. Moon's light... when I look back at all of mine -- you're just a little younger than Fluttershy. She was eldest, and you so close behind. One of the first, and so in that sense, you could be expected to be among the first to reach adulthood. But that's more than age, Snowflake. It's also perspective. Some become adults long before leaving school: others pass of old age without ever getting there. You are an adult. It is something which requires its own level of strength. And you've always been so strong..."
The stallion came a little closer to the bars, arranged his body so that every line of direct sight through the lower window was blocked by his visitor's bulk. Smiled.
"Have you ever wondered," Gentle Arrival whispered, "just how strong you truly are?"
Snowflake's soul froze.
He didn't understand why. He didn't know what had changed. Just that he was looking at the first face he'd ever seen, into eyes he knew by heart. Eyes which held no light at all.
His hooves began to skitter across stone, by a single hoofwidth. Shifting backwards.
"I have," the unicorn whispered. "I know that you hold yourself back. That you, like so many of mine, have yet to explore your true potential. But you, Snowflake, the combination of physical power and what is very nearly the rarest of talents -- did you ever think about the goals you might set for yourself? What you could accomplish, if you were just determined enough?"
The elder's head tilted forward. Put clockwork and metal into the gap between bars.
"I know that if you simply desire it," the stallion softly stated, "you can break this. Apply all the force necessary: my horn will not conduct it. And do so quickly. It takes time for that one to open the door, too much time, and by then, I will be free. Between the two of us, guards and bars will no longer a prison make, and both factors may only be so much debris. Release me, and when we are away from here, I can tell you everything. We might even start with the name of the pony whose essence you were granted -- and that would, with some thought, tell you who donated that which went to Fluttershy: I would hope you remembered that much from your history classes. We can discover what you're truly capable of. We can do that together, with you as my most loyal."
There was another kind of light in his eyes now.
"My dearest, my friend, my hybrid --"
There might have been more, and it was lost in the sound of pounding hooves.
The door opened, and did so much faster than it had originally: the guard barely got back in time. And at the instant he cleared the gap, Snowflake spun, got his shoulder into the weight, pushed, trying to close it even more quickly than that. But it wasn't enough. He was strong (and he held back, he'd always held back) -- but he wasn't faster than sound or light.
He saw his first friend for what was not quite the very last time, and the cruel placement of that window meant he watched the shock of betrayal as it spread. The flare of rage.
He heard the words.
He would hear them in his dreams.
"Snowflake! You would be dead without me! You owe me everything! SNOWFLAKE!"
He was leaning against the cold grey stone of the corridor wall. It seemed willing to take his weight, and he kept waiting for the force of his churning thoughts to grind it into dust.
Denial was gone. Only truth remained. A truth which bore down on him with a weight greater than the world.
It's true.
It's all true.
He...
...I'm...
The guard was watching him from a slight distance. Not approaching, not trying to comfort. Perhaps a partial collapse was common after a visit. There was a chance that this was normal. Breakdowns were just part of the everyday routine. The last typical thing left.
His chest was heaving. He couldn't see clearly. His rib cage didn't seem to know what to do with itself. Ears twisted this way and that, picked up on approaching hoofsteps. Exceptionally heavy ones, not that it mattered. Not that anything did or ever would again.
...please...
And then the shadow fell over him.
It took a second before the implications found their way through the twisting inner chaos, and perhaps that only happened because the moment had its own weight. The guard had backed away. A pony had approached them, on hoof, and the shadow had fallen over Snowflake. He was larger than just about anypony. Having somepony overshadow him on ground level didn't happen...
He blinked until his vision focused. Until he saw the white quietly standing within deep grey.
Larger than just about anypony. But not larger than two, and so he looked up.
Her mane was almost completely still, and the pastel hues were tainted by murky brown. Purple eyes sadly looked down at him, and the weight of their age joined with his own burden, nearly drove him into the floor.
"I know this isn't a good time," she quietly told him. "I know..." The huge body forced a slow breath. "...that there are no good times for this: there never could be. But you're the first to arrive, the first from the list. And I was hoping..."
Her eyes slowly closed, and it seemed to take all the strength in that giant form to open them again.
"...that we could talk."
He was frozen within that corridor, staring up at her. And the warmth of Sun never reached him.
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Has Celestia stopped dying her mane? Wow, she ain't doing good.
Also very glad that DR Gentle is impatient, he could con his way out of jail if he had enough time or self-awareness.
As strong as you are, Snowflake, you know you are standing in front of one infinitely stronger.
And it still might not be enough.
Ha! Gentle is such an arrogant moron that he can't even try to disemble now.
Good to see...
Sheesh, that's rough.
With so little time he could have had Snowflake break him out but all he did was drive him away with the truth. I think Snowflake is going to be having an interesting conversation in the next chapter and hopefully make it back before he accidentally stands up Applejack.
This is going to be interesting. Celestia is still in the midst of the guilt she feels over how she messed up her relationship with Twilight. Snowflake has just had one of the worst days of his life. Both are incredibly vulnerable right now. It’s going to be a conversation conducted whilst dancing on eggshells.
They are going to have to come up with alternative arrangements if Rachette ever visits. Would the revulsion and horror at his deeds manage to beat down her desire to investigate that restraint?
9529123
Yeah I wonder if the mane is a symptom of the prison wards (seems the easiest answer) or if because she's having her own problems about a smaller purple princess. While thinking about it, I realized that I'm not sure we've ever really seen what Twilight and Celestia relationship is like from Celestia's view . We've gotten small pieces of it (her frustration during The Night Before Nightmare, her and Luna discussing Twilight's ascension in Mark of Appeal) but very few scenes involve the two of them together and I can only remember one that was private (didn't go well). Maybe in a coming chapter we'll finally get a glimpse at what the fallout was like at the palace.
Im shaking very hard after reading this chapter.
Good job.
This chapter shake the soul of both the characters and the readers. Gentle is going more insane by the days it look like.
I do wonder what Celestia have to talk with Snowflake. Probably some stuff about keeping the story quiet until the government is ready to announce the full or partial story to the public. Heck, the investigation is probably still on-going and warning the public might cause some of the conspirators to escape if they are warned. But she also might ask his opinion on the whole hybrid thing and how, as one, perceive how things should be going.
I dunno if you did this intentionally, but it's really clever. Presumably he's moving so that the guards can't read his lips, but the window is where all the light in the room is coming from, so figuratively there's no light in his eyes, and literally there's no light reflecting from his eyes. Very little thing but genius.
Dr. Gentle's problem is that he refuses to admit that he did wrong. A common symptom of mental illness.
IMO, a verdict of "diminished capacity" is warranted. He needs treatment, not punishment.
9529453
Ah, papapa, that would bring us no satisfaction. He caused hurt, so he must hurt in return. That is justice, right?
And THERE it is! Right there! THAT is why I DESPISE you.
9529480
No, that is vengeance. A subtle yet crucial distinction.
"the tri-annual driving festival"
"the tri-annual drinking festival"?
"gave Snowflake of walking up to"
"gave Snowflake a sense of walking up to"?
"defend himself in Equestrian -- and"
"defend himself in Equestrian --" and"?
...Well. Gentle Arrival gave Snowflake his side of the story, alright. Very effectively, too, for the amount of time it took.
9529480
Dude, watch One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Besides, I honestly believe that his wife's death drove him mad.
Oooh! Love all the thought that went into this!
The Sky is an Ocean metaphors! So good!
----
Wow. It sounds nice, but given what he's done... WOW. Also, "faith in oneself is as important as anything else", really explains a lot about him?
----
And that title! Dr. Gentle is the guy who led all of this. The Maestro!
9529453
The fact that Gentle hid his true work all this time, as well as this uglier side of him, shows that he was mentally fit enough to understand that what he was doing was illegal. The fact that he feels that he shouldn’t have to obey the law and that he doesn’t feel guilt about what he’s done isn’t particularly unique among criminals, especially among leaders, racists and extremists.
You’d never be able to hold anyone in power accountable if the standard for diminished capacity was simply believing that protecting and pursuing their own goals was more important than obeying the laws.
And one immense white pony who's just had a terrible experience with a loved one meets another. I don't see this going especially well for either.
9529379
The most terrifying thing about Gentle Arrival is that this madness isn't new. He's just stopped hiding it. He was surrounded by his little cult of personality and otherwise for so long that he can't even conceive of anyone reacting negatively to the Great Work. Certainly not his hybrids. They owe literally everything to him. They should be grateful! They are his creations! They will obey him!
So yeah. Gentle's gone full-time mad scientist. The prison's done him no favors, but this level of magic-related memetic disorder was already there during Triptych.
9529865
ICR where, but Batman was brooding about stuff "While robbing a convince store, the Hernández brothers killed 6 people for $34. The Riddler has stolen millions and never killed anyone. But HE'S the crazy one. I'll never understand that ""
Yeah, a lot of criminals just use it as an excuse. "Crazy" not = "legally insane" (As was said about The Joker).
9529534
9529816
Just to clarify, I get that and was using a bit of sarcasm.
Something makes me think we've just found the location of the great nearly war.
So, anyone want to make a quick omake of something smart Gentle could have said?
That prison atmosphere was amazing to read. The security spells creating that gray miasma in the air was brilliant, all the little details made this place feel so real and palpable. It's really sad how almost all the visitors are young children and most of the rooms are dedicated to playing.
If it's not the oldest structure on the mountain I'd be surprised. It strikes me that post-Discordian Celestia and Luna would need to have a place to hold prisoners that had to be especially harsh and intimidating to really stomp down on any attempts at destabilizing early Equestria.
I loved that beautiful thought of breaking through the pressure and flying above it. Hitting that glass ceiling and really seeing what the world could show you. Is it related to the same phenomenon that requires ponies to operate the weather? Can you actually go up there or is it just the same as our upper atmosphere and not recommended? Not actually expecting detailed answers, mostly just wanted to pose them.
The portrayal of the prison was very good. As a former correctional officer (I worked five years in a level 2 facility before finding a better paying job that used my degree), it’s nice to see any non-negative portrayal of the profession. I could see the same reactions occurring in our gatehouse and visiting room. Though a visitor would never be taken back to Seg, it worked perfectly in the story. More of a Hannibal Lecter reveal.
I’m also interested if the Pillars are part of the Verse’s history considering the comments about who’s essence he has. Rockhoof would be a pretty good match considering his determined backstory.
9530597
He could have explained about the chaos pearls while doing some editing, and say that Discord set the entire nation against him as revange, and then followed it up with some spiel about Snowflake overcoming it with the magic of friendship.
I doubt he would think of that; he's been lying about the nessisity of his Work for so long that I'm not sure it'll occure to him.
9530958
I think his best argument would be the "I did it for the children" angle since Snowflake can't really argue against it without being a hypocrite or deciding that he should be dead.
9530993
Not if Fluttershy mentioned his abused daughter.
Oh wow. Now THAT is a hell of a cliffhanger.
If he thought dealing with a smug arsebucket with a God complex was bad, dealing with Celestia is going to be a crapload worse. She ain't even bothering to hide her real mane no more......which means he's going to be told something worse than what Smug Snake said....
9530995
Yeah, but we don't know how much she told him.
9531514
Didn't the narration say she says everything? I can't remember.
9531225
Yes, how dare that bitch need therapy after a thousand years of the single most stressful job ever concieved of without any real support structure? It's not like real life humans can crack from less pressure over a shorter time frame.
I don't know why everyone needs to jump down her throat when the mistake she made occurred when she wasn't mentally sound, whereas Luna was in as right a mind as she ever has when she told Twilight to pull her head out of her ass for daring to feel bad about her whole life being a lie. Especially given the scale of mistake Luna makes when her head is up her respective ass.
9531528
I don’t really blame Celestia for not being able to hold it together under the circumstances, although that doesn’t really absolve her of the curse she laid on Starswirl or how she has handled her relationship with Twilight in a larger scope beyond that worst-possible way of revealing the truth. Luna though...
I know that she suffers her own demons, and that she feels the burden of guilt for her sister having to shoulder all of that responsibility for 1000 years with no support, but man does it seem monsterous for her to look at these two ponies in emotional turmoil and tell the one with the least blame in the situation to not only drop it, but to do so in a way that invalidates her feelings by implying that they’re just childish stupidity, all so that Twilight can rescue her sister (the one who wounded Twilight to begin with) from her emotional tailspin instead.
Over and over again, Twilight and her friends are sent out on missions that exact a toll, and when she finally hits a breaking point herself, Luna treats it as an inconvenience that should be set aside. I suspect that Luna was simply doing the best she could to get both ponies over it and talking to begin a healing process, and we don’t know the kinds of things that she was saying to Celestia at this time, but even so it really devalues Twilight and her own emotional trauma.
9531865
I'm willing to give her a little leeway, because she either woke up and had the entire mess shoved in her lap five minutes before her talk with Twilight, or spent the whole day trying to make her sister better.
But it's a consistent pattern with her. She sees something she wants, and she takes a shortcut to get it. The shortcut is ill-advised, but she does it because she thinks she can get away with anything. And then taking the shortcut breaks something, and she either fixes it or she doesn't.
Which doesn't make her a bad character, but spending time with her is exhausting. She needs more appearances as a side character, so she isn't stuck being scary or insecure every time she shows up.
When twilight tries to cast the world into eternal night, then Luna can bitch at her for letting emotional issues trip her up.
As for Celestia, I don't blame her for not being perfect, I blame her for not having adequate (or any, in most cases) contingency plans to account for those imperfections.
There's one little detail about about Gentle Arrival's speech that I've been thinking about. He mentions history classes in reference to Snowflake and Fluttershy's donors. Siblings that were either famous or whose deaths were well-known? I dunno. Any ideas?
A very moody and emotionally charged chapter. Snowflake’s mental tug-of-war between what he wanted to believe and what made too much sense to deny was well done. The standout to me was the recollection of his talk with Gentle in Cloudsdale, standing in actual soil, and how it showed why he loved the Doctor and yet, in light of what he had just learned, the scene had a completely new interpretation underlying it just waiting for Snowflake to acknowledge it. Heartbreaking stuff.
I really expected the talk with Gentle to go on longer, but it seems that the bad Doctor has dropped all pretense from his actions. Apparently even his own daughter turning from him hasn’t shaken his ego enough to make him tread carefully when it comes to the rest of ‘his’ children... he still assumes that he’s entitled to their support. That they might be in any kind of crisis due to the truth about themselves never seems to cross his mind, and most painfully it suggests that all of that interest in them and support for them all of their lives was nothing but coldly calculated data collection.
I’m really looking forward to the talk with Celestia and seeing how she’s faring at this time... And of course getting back to Applejack as well.
They repurposed Tirek's castle?
9529241
If he didn't seem so insistent on getting out now (or at least that's what it seemed like to me), he could've tried to work on getting Snowflake to continue to trust him and then popped the "I'm sure you can break this" proposal. Not push too far when the big colt was already reeling from what he's heard.
Or maybe it's possible there was no more time and I'm just playing an overly-idealistic Discord's Advocate. The proposal was still stupid whether it was suggested now or suggested at any point in the future.
9531869
I think most of the "shortcuts" may disappear (or not be quite as...obvious? Not sure what word to use) once she gets a better handle on the current flow of pony personalities in relation to the crown. And once ponies have a better impression on her and them (well, assuming they can ever lower the pedestal that the entire Equestrian mass seems determined to lift up to Sun and Moon despite the protests of the sisters). (although, it does seem like a good time for Luna to have another good win (albeit without all the dangers in A Mark of Appeal).)
The lack of knowing just what Celestia did (and didn't) tell Luna also hampers things because, like you said, it leaves just what she knows in too much ambiguity.
Doesn't that restraint have a bomb in it? Smashing it wouldn't achieve anything other than removing snowflake's hooves and the top half of Gentle's skull.
9755368
The platinum goes off if the restrained unicorn tries to disarm it from the inside. If it were simply smashed and exposed to ambient magic, it would probably take some time to reach magical saturation (and thus detonation).
But we're also told "it has other ways of stopping him". I'm guessing the Sisters accounted for simple mechanical destruction when they built it.
D: Again! I really want to give this pony a hug :'<
Snowflake
9533609
So I have a theory on who the donors might be, tho probably a bit far-fetched. Fluttershy and Snowflake are both pegasi / earth hybrids. Given the timeline and great possibility for dramatic reveal esp in this particular story, my money is on Buttercup and Bright Mac.
9529241
That would be an even MORE interesting conversation. (And more painful, too.)