Ms. Glimmer and the Do-Nothing Prince

by scifipony

30 — Public Nightmares Part IV: Conception and Decision

"Are you ill?" Singe asked me in a newly contrite voice, having realized I'd suffered a PTSD episode, perhaps deciding I was more than just a fluff-head new royal and may have capital-R Reasons for behaving weird.

Brawler kept walking to the window, but waved a leg in negation for me. He said, "Just a little morning sickness. Nothing to worry about."

Singe froze up.

I heard wings flare with a snap. I shot my gaze to the door, where Streak stood shocked. That lasted an instant, though. She took advantage of the high ceiling, grinning ear-to-ear, as she swooped to my side. "Morning sickness? Do tell, Grimsy. Who's the sire?"

"I am not pregnant." Well. Not for sure until I drank a certain potion...

The prince whinnied and stopped so suddenly, his slippers, well, slipped. He continued toward the window, scrambled, and chose to land on his stomach rather than smack the glass nose first.

The other night, it was tasting the beure verte and not understanding the cliché about etchings. A few other things, like talking sometimes about being filled up and and sometimes not, maybe, that made me think bipolar. Common enough a malady amongst Carne Asada's brighter lieutenants, possibly leading to a more crooked profession that profited unruly behavior. I knew that royalty grew up in an elite bubble; he might not associate with the common rabble, but surely he had to have read some popular literature. Maybe not the romance novels I indulged in, but, I mean, really?

"If that's what it means, um—" he said, standing, facing me. Was that sweat beading? "Um..." He coughed. "I didn't grow up in Canterlot. Where I come from, we use, tiny hooves trotting." He laughed. "Nothing to worry about, right, Starlight?"

Starlight? I blinked, then squared my shoulders and hips. "PTSD. I've a few horrors in my past, but I've got a handle on it again. No worries." Being flawed served my purposes. It kept everypony on notice that I was evil; it kept me in check.

I repeated, "No worries, but I'm going to need everypony's help. You see, the world ends in 600 days."

That I suddenly saw the whites of the prince's eyes, I thought he might be about the spook, but he cantered over, circled me. "Starliiiight."

Every other pony froze, even Streak who had fought Celestia, had had all the hair burnt off her hindquarters, and heard the princess explain the ramifications of the curse.

"Not PTSD. That." I pointed at the frigate. "The Golden Stag. A village obliterated. Monsters increasingly attracted to Equestria. Culminating 600 days from now. This time, however, if ponies die, it won't be because I didn't do everything—no matter what!— I could do to prevent it."

I trotted toward the door, Proper Step rushing forward to open it, the prince clattering behind him. "No word of this leaks or there will be a panic."

"Fodder for nightmares," remarked Brawler when I met his blue eyes briefly. I passed into the hallway, where a castle guard met us.

"I need to speak to Celestia's lieutenants—captains, staff, whomever is in charge of that frigate outside. Where do I do that?"

"The Rose Conference Room?" the purple pegasus guard asked hopefully.

"Make it happen," I ordered. I assumed that's how a princess said those things.

With a gulp, he flew off and moments later more guard galloped up to escort us.

I continued, "Understand, the Golden Stag claim the Everfree Forest as their domain. That's less than a league south of Canterlot. Proper Step, your father's not with Celestia, is he?"

"No."

"Get him. Wait." He stopped and brown eyes regarded me. "I want Mi Amoré Cadenza. She's a flapping alicorn! Celestia asked me to beat the pegasus out of her. So be it."

Now that my chargé d'affaires had galloped off, I remarked, "I should have asked him what else I need to know."

"The stalker, really?"

"Half your age, twice as mature," I muttered. He wisely kept silent.

The guards led us to the university wing, where the keep that housed the throne room abutted the original College of Equestria. I'd been in the throne room twice, once being unexpectedly coronated, and the second closing Day Court. Had I not been preoccupied, I might have noticed the galleries at the top level, four stories up. Four stories of spiral stairs opened up into a solarium with rose-colored glass. Large gem-like facets revealed pegasi placing fluffy cumulus clouds that gathered into the higher elevation around the peaks.

I stood blinking, looking up.

"Ms. Glimmer?"

I shook my head. "Does Princess Celestia meet here with her military advisors?"

"Yes."

"She's lived a thousand years—"

Brawler interrupted. "My Aunt? 1,042 years—"

"I pointed to the sky."Why do I look up and visualize a squadron of griffons carrying a load of rock to dive bomb us? And she doesn't? Is there a more insecure room in the castle?"

"Pegasi or night wing guard are posted, depending on the time of day."

"Still," I huffed.

The horseshoe table looked quarried from a single slab of grey-veined white marble. White gilt chairs offered silver brocade cushions and I sat in one. They matched the sideboards and cabinets. Blackboards mounted on casters offered the only contrast, that and the pastel-colored pieces of chalk in the tray. Marble and crystal chandeliers hung down. Sun streaming at an oblique angle through the rose-colored windows cast shadows and bounced light, tinting things every shade of pink.

A few minutes later, Cadance trotted in the north entrance, followed by Shining Armor. She had a happy gait, saw who waited, then slowed, looking suddenly tired. Her eyes locked on the prince, who had taken up pacing. When she looked at the floor, I realized he still wore his slippers. Her facial emotions went through a panoply of anger, interest, and calculation. Only when she came close did she look aside, then sketch a curtsey.

"Come closer," I said.

When she did, I kicked her lightly below the right knee.

"Hey!" she cried, hopping back.

I grabbed her in my magic as she veered away, tapping her right rear leg with the edge of my brass.

"Ow, ow!"

She glared at me and backed into a chair, sitting with a thump.

"That's two kicks. Consider yourself lucky."

Behind me, the prince sniggered.

The princess jumped up, pain forgotten, glaring.

I clapped my hooves together. "Oh, right." I circled around them until they faced each other and they turned their necks to look at me. I tapped her shoulder and she flinched, expecting worse. "You are the Princess of Love. Not Lust. Not Avarice. Got that?" I pointed at him. "Blueblood isn't going to marry you, got that?"

I looked him in his blue-eyes, which gleamed in glee, then said, "You apologize to her for the prank you pulled on her."

"What?"

"You heard me. Maybe richly deserved, but very rude."

Both of them sputtered, glaring at each other. I clopped a hoof on the black and white checkered marble floor.

"Then you explain how royalty works in Equestria. And the both of you—" They looked at me. "Grow. Up."

Hostile eyes followed me as I trotted over to Shining Armor, who gave me a worried look. He bowed. "Ms. Glimmer."

"Starlight," I corrected. "She's your filly-friend from school? Stop waiting and help her overcome her confusion, so she can figure out what she's princess of. Hold still while I cast your daily spell."

As I completed the task, calculating that I wound the escapement codicils to almost 23 1/2 hours, he said, "Um, that could be a problem considering the spell you just had to cast."

Undressed as he thought about being, he had a solar cutie mark. That she might consequently see. I chuckled. "Some mares prefer romance—'

"No, no," he said, face coloring, "Not what I was implying!"

"What was your subconscious implying, exactly? You might want to reflect on that quickly, maybe even own it. You will be dealing with consequences soon."

Somepony knocked on the doorframe from the south wing. "Princess?"

My gaze shot over. An older Clydesdale earth pony with a blue peaked cap and shoulder shingles, each with a star on them, stood there, raising a hoof to yawn. Bright red fur was tempered with a close-cropped strawberry blond mane and tail. "Oh, you. My apologies, Ms. Glimmer. I assumed 'princess' meant Celestia, considering your proscription against ponies using the title when addressing you. An obvious mistake." He yawned again. "I'll take my leave." He turned tail.

"'The Golden Stag obliterated a village,'" I said.

He turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want to explain?"

"The princess has the situation well under hoof. By your leave."

He trotted to the stair spiraling down, and I followed. Nonplussed, I asked, "Did I grant you leave? I don't have to, do I?"

"Trivialities can be discussed during regular hours." He waved a hoof behind him, not getting the hint.

He got halfway around the circle of the spiral stair when my targeting matched his position. I levitated him back, but at the landing he did a squirm and kick. He judged the bulb shape of my levitation field correctly. The castle stonework provided a flaw. All that with no horn to calculate vectors, but never discount what an earth pony can achieve with bodily strength. He kicked off the wall, and skidded into the room on all fours.

Amber eyes glared, looked at me, then. "Your Royal Highness?" He stood straight. He bowed.

I huffed. "Strictly speaking, 'Royal Highness' is a correct method of address, and Celestia only granted me leave to kick ponies when it was used. So, I'll not count it as insubordination. I am not Celestia, this much is true. I am not as forgiving."

Another pony, exiting the stairs behind me, said, "Pardon me for saying—" She huffed, bending to her knees to catch her breath. "—but neither are you as experienced— Ms. Glimmer."

I faced a silver-grey unicorn with a purple mane tied into a bun. She wore a grey and white track suit that would have blended like camouflage into her fur were it not for dark sweat stains in all the expected places.

A tan pony in palace livery with a monocle in his right eye followed, also saying, "Ms. Glimmer." Kibitz.

The unicorn mare said, "I am Captain Ice Sickle, Captain of the Army and that is Captain Sky High, Captain of the Navy. Forgive the old colt. He's cranky if awoken early."

"Thank you," he said in a surly fashion.

"You're welcome. You summoned us?"

I looked into her clear blue icy eyes. "The Golden Stag obliterated a village. Do you want to explain?"

The mare sighed. "A distinct possibility. After a generation or so, uneducated ponies forget they live near a menace and treat the wilds as free land. Celestia discussed with us the likelihood of retaliation. Nothing unexpected. Nothing you need worry about."

"Kibitz, who am I?"

Intuiting my request, he said, "Ms. Glimmer is the Earl of Grin Having, Captain of the Third Army of Equestria."

"In training," Ice Sickle pointed out. "As Commander of Equestria, Princess Celestia is our immediate superior."

"And you are the spare," Sky High pointed out, then coughed, "Ms. Glimmer."

"About the protection of Canterlot?" I asked.

"We acceded to Celestia's request and posted an airship—for show. When the princess returns, I suggest you attend meetings when she calls them."

I thought about me thinking her summons the other day as being like impromptu summer school class, and that her requests for breakfast and dinner was snootiness. Misinterpretations. I compressed my lips and lowered my ears. Shoot.

"Let's meet when the Princess returns. Ms. Glimmer." She bowed and walked over to Sky High, swatted him on the shoulder, then talked quietly into his ear as they clopped down the stairway.

"That didn't go as planned," observed the prince, voice dripping with irony.

I growled, but looked past him as I heard more ponies coming up the south stairs. A shadowy pony, Proper Step, brought with him a cornflower blue pegasus in a sailor uniform. He ducked his head slightly, saying, "Ms. Glimmer. Ensign Berrytwist, Commander of the Eagle's Stoop, insisted she was too busy and sent Chief Bent Feather in her stead."

"Ms. Glimmer!" He saluted, touching a wing to his white sailor hat. His voice crackled and sounded like stirred gravel, not at all crisp like his salute or his posture. He had rheumy eyes. Middle-aged, with uneven feathers, chipped brown hooves, and a short cropped salt and pepper dark navy blue mane, he looked like a machine in need of replacement parts. When I nodded, he added, "How may I assist you?"

"The Golden Stag obliterated a village. What's your mission at Canterlot?"

He gulped. "I don't know enough to properly answer your question." He added hurriedly at my frown, "Due to extra duties! We lack a boatswain, triggerpony, and a purser, and our XO keeps going AWOL. We lack critical supplies. Then there's the crew, some I'd rate neither able nor ordinary airhooves, with a few FLOEs including a motorcolt, which I have to separate from the cadets Western Fleet Comm left onboard..."

The frogs of my hooves went cold and I shuddered. This felt very much like when Carne Asada got the bosses of all the eastern city gangs to meet for a summit, having tipped the constables off—a trick I'd taught her to my chagrin. It had been the prelude to an all-out gang war that consumed northeastern Hooflyn.

A prelude.

I growled.

Author's Note:

Changed Ice Sickle from Captain of the Armies to the Army on 3/3/24.