Seven thousand two hundred ticks of the grandfather clock signalled the passing of the second hour, announced just a fraction of a second later by the merry chime. It did little to comfort Twilight Sparkle. In fact, it did quite the opposite: knowing that she had wasted almost two hours in a spare room – when she would have been enormously more productive at the library – with probably the most unpleasant, grating and otherwise irritating pony in Canterlot.
Prince Blueblood.
It had all started out so well, too.
Of all the royalty she knew, pony or otherwise, he was probably least deserving of any royal title, much less being let anywhere near government. In theory, he wielded as much power as Celestia or Luna, though blessedly only in theory. Every day, tabloids included articles on the latest of his activities or behavior, which was to say nothing of the actual news.
“No.”
“I thought I said–”
“You did,” Blueblood interrupted, his tone curt and his tight frown brokering no argument, “but that doesn’t change the fact it is wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.”
Trying her best to remain calm, Twilight Sparkle glared at him while wearing a strained smile. “Then what’s the problem? If it’s just a mistake–”
“The numbers look fine. The i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed, but that’s not the issue. I’m nothing less than stunned as to how you cannot see the larger picture.”
“Then please, tell me.”
He snorted his contempt. “It’s even more incredible that you only seek my approval now, considering you wouldn’t hear a word of advice since you first had the idea. Why is that? Afraid I’ll ruin it?”
Her scowl deepened; the thought had crossed her mind. “Just tell me. I’m not in the mood for this.”
The chair scraped against the floor as Blueblood stood. “If you had wanted to know my thoughts, you should have asked for them sooner. I have neither the time nor the will to sit around waiting for you to make up your mind.” He walked for the door, paying no heed to Twilight’s further protests. ”Good day to you Princess.”
But despite his intent, Twilight wasn’t prepared to let him go. She had done too much work, looked up too much information, just to be told she would have to wait. She teleported in front of him with a bright purple flash, barring the exit. If being polite earned her nothing, perhaps a plea would work.
“Blueblood, I know you are busy, and I know you have other things you have to do, but for the love of harmony, please... Just give me a couple of words, or something I could look to improve.”
Blueblood studied her impassively for a moment. “Funny you should speak of harmony.” He sighed, and rubbed at his brow. “Very well, let me see it again for a moment.”
With a smile, Twilight passed him the paper.
“Start over.”
The sound of the papers ripping in half, then into quarters was like a knife into Twilight’s heart. She gaped as the pieces fluttered to the floor, not even noticing Blueblood stepping around her, nor the door closing behind him. It took a half minute before she finally found her voice, then she vented her frustrations in one long scream.
→ ↔ ←
Contrary to what most ponies believed, Princess Celestia did not have what could be called a regular schedule. Regular would imply that there was some semblance of order; some pattern to the day. In truth, her schedule was little more than an utter mess, barely cobbled together into a manageable order. For a while, Celestia had even entertained the idea that Discord had personally engineered her schedule to get back at her, if only to dull the boredom of the endless meetings and ribbon-cuttings.
Despite all of this, there was one exception to the schedule; one thing which was unusually different, which is to say normal. Everyday from twelve to one, Celestia had an hour to herself. Not an hour of time where she might be called upon to give a little extra help, but an hour only to be broken by true emergencies. Over the many years she had ruled Equestria, the hour had come to be known by many names: lunch, tea time, cake consumption, reading hour, or, in one particularly trying decade, happy hour.
What it was, regardless of the name, was simply a chance for Celestia to unwind. It did not matter if it was over a piece of cake, a cup of tea, or a beaker of gryphonic whiskey. All that mattered was the chance for rest and relaxation. Today, she had brought out the old haggard teapot which had been an anonymous gift from several hundred years prior. Years of practice had given her a good eye as she tapped a few tea leaves in: just the right amount. Boiling water came next, surrounding the leaves with scalding heat to draw forth their flavour.
A sound twinkled in one ear as she waited for the tea to steep. Despite the designer’s insistence, her room was only nearly soundproof, not entirely so. Celestia dismissed the noise as nothing more than the castle staff – harmony knew they didn’t need her to start complaining – but was forced to take back her opinion when the door slammed open, and Twilight stormed in.
Frazzled hair? Check.
Scowl? Check.
Agitated short steps? Check.
Celestia sighed as she finished her evaluation. Twilight had been taking on many new duties as a princess, and it finally seemed as if one had gotten to her. The heads of two Royal Guards poked around the doorframe wearing sympathetic expressions. One of them even mouthed an apology. Celestia gestured gently that it was fine. The door closed, leaving Celestia alone with the ranting Twilight.
Just as in her younger days, her former student had an interesting temper. Twilight was quite tolerant most of the time, but when she reached her limit, or something prodded her the wrong way, she tended to explode a little more violently than most. Experience had taught Celestia just to let Twilight unload, regardless of whether she listened or not, then ask her questions. Anything else was like throwing leaves at a hurricane to stop it. So, instead,Celestia brought out another teacup and reached for the tea.
“Are you even listening to me!” Twilight snapped, finally realizing her audience of one was paying more attention to pouring a drink than the faults of a thrice addled pig headed idiot.
“Perhaps, but perhaps not. Do you remember if you knocked?” Celestia countered.
It took a second for her mind to catch up with the question, then Twilight blushed.“No, I didn’t,” she admitted meekly.
Celestia took a sip of her tea and offered the other to Twilight. “Than why don’t we start from the beginning again now that you have gotten it all out of your system. Sugar?”
“Yes please.”
“Cinnamon too?”
Of all of Twilight’s weaknesses, none were more potent than cinnamon with her tea. She knew it too. “Yes...” Twilight said with a huff.
By the time they spoke again, they had drained the dainty tea cups twice. “What had you so worked up earlier Twilight?”
The young alicorn held up the five sheets of torn paper as though they were explanation enough. Celestia had only started to lean in for a look at what they said before Twilight yanked them away.
“Blueblood tore it up!” Twilight exclaimed. “He tore it up and told me to start over.
Celestia sighed, giving her head a little shake. “Twilight, he tore up what?”
Twilight let her take the pages, digging the edge of her hoof into the ground as she explained what happened. Years of ruling had left Celestia a fast reader, though she still examined them close enough not to miss of the fine details, half listening to Twilight. When she had read the end, Celestia looked up at Twilight. “Now in your own words, describe this education reform.”
“You see, princess–”
“Just Celestia,” she interrupted with a motherly smile. Old habits died hard.
“Anyway, I started thinking about this idea a while ago in Ponyville. I’ve been tutoring a few foals there in a variety of topics.”
“Mhmm,” Celestia hummed into her tea. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders, was it?”
Twilight nodded. “Sweetie Belle in particular needed some help with her magic, and I’m happy to say she’s made significant progress on that front. But the thing is, at the time I thought it was just her... I mean, not to belittle her, but Rarity isn’t exactly the best teacher.” She paused, frowned, then shook her head quickly.”No, that’s not it. It’s just that Rarity is sort of... Oh, what's the word.”
“It’s alright, I understand.”
“I thought it was just Sweetie Belle who was magically underdeveloped for her age, but it’s almost all young unicorns in Ponyville. I know Cheerilee tries her best, but she has neither the time nor the resources to instruct them on even the basics. But it doesn’t stop there. I took it one step further and checked all the towns in the area. Do you have any idea how many meet the average?” There was no pause to let Celestia answer. “None. Every town or village I checked was chronically far below the national standard.”
“And you thought to propose a bill to fix the issue.”
“Precisely, I...”
A raised hoof stopped her. “I have no doubt the math and finances work out, but what did Blueblood have to say?”
“Well... That’s just it. He barely said anything, only that I was missing the larger picture and I’d have to wait to hear the explanation later.” Twilight took another sip of her tea. “I tried to press him for an answer, and then he went and tore my work into pieces!”
Celestia looked down at the tea leaves swirling at the bottom of her cup. “I see.”
Twilight mistook the answer for something it wasn’t. “It was completely irresponsible and out of place for him to do that! If he–”
“Twilight.”
Just a single word calmly spoken was enough to stop her.
“Twilight,” Celestia repeated. “If I may offer a piece of advice, understand that Blueblood is not secure just because of his station. Many others seek his support deceptively, try to subvert his wishes, or attempt to manipulate him, just as you will eventually experience. Despite his faults, however, he is extraordinarily talented politician and is somewhat of an expert of ushering through difficult bills.”
“But that still doesn’t explain why he tore up my work?”
“I have two theories.” She paused. “Well, three actually.”
Silence.
“Well?” Twilight asked.
“Do you really want to hear them?”
“Of course.”
She pursed her lips. “Firstly, Blueblood was returning the same kindness you showed to him.”
“Celestia!” Twilight protested. “How are we even remotely comparable?”
“If I am to be completely honest, Twilight, you did nothing more than waste his time.”
“No I–”
“Didn’t?” Celestia finished. “Twilight, by your own admission you hardly spoke a word to him for two hours, and virtually nothing if you discount the first and last few minutes. I can hardly approve of what he did, but why he did it is another matter altogether.”
Twilight sighed and rustled her wings. Though she loathed to admit it, what Celestia said was true. “So what is the second one.”
“He wants the lip service, and he knows that without his support, you might not be able to muster the votes to pass the bill.”
“But it’s a bill for educational reform. A good one.”
“It’s nothing to do with the bill,” she interrupted. “You are new to government, and ponies will be looking to play on that. You will get some support, but unless your idea was truly revolutionary, you will need to convince ponies to vote for it. Managing to secure Blueblood’s support would guarantee a good portion of that vote.”
“The third?”
“Oh. Blueblood has been replaced by a changeling aligned with Discord seeking to impair every aspect of the government–”
“Princess...”
“– to allow for the influx of whales to overtake our land thanks to snowmelt from the shift in the orbit of the moon.” Through it all, Celestia maintained a steady expression as if she were discussing the weather, daring Twilight to challenge what she had claimed.
Twilight fought a losing battle to suppress the smile at the absurdity of it. “I get it, Celestia. I just...” She sighed. “Why did you have to ask Blueblood to help me? Couldn’t you have found time later this week, or... Or anything?”
“I know you wanted my help, but sometimes that isn’t how things work out. He just has a little more flexibility with his schedule right now, that’s all.”
“What should I do then?”
“It takes a strong pony to take a stand for what they believe in, but it takes a stronger pony to try and cross the fence to mend the rift.” She tapped her chin. “Why don’t you think of this as a test.”
Twilight studied Celestia’s usual soft smile carefully, then scowled. “I’m beginning to think this whole thing was always supposed to be a test.”
In a look of which Twilight had come to hate, Celestia cocked her head innocently. “Was it?”
→ ↔ ←
It was a small blessing that Blueblood had not shredded her pages, but merely torn them. Mending spells were difficult enough even at the best of times. While it was somewhat straightforward to urge a vase back together when the shards all formed the original shape like a puzzle, paper was not. Paper fibres were not nearly as rigid or constrained, and forcing them to return to their previous position more often than not tended to make things much worse. It had taken gluing the pieces to a sheet of card, like some first grade art project, before Twilight felt comfortable using the spell.
Exactly ten minutes early, she arrived at the room where she and Blueblood had worked the day before. Each page of her proposal was laid out before her as she combed over the details, looking for the slightest problem which he would undoubtedly criticize. To her dismay, twice she caught small mistakes, incorrectly copied numbers, and later on – derived from the same values – a calculated sum.
But all in all, it added up to less than a tenth of a percent of the total cost.
It just didn’t make sense.
Everytime she went through her work, Twilight came back to the same conclusion: it worked great, fantastic even. She just could not see what had prompted Blueblood to tear it up. So a little traitorous voice at the back of her mind started to tell her that Celestia might be right. He could have done it simply because she had slighted him. And as much as she loathed to admit it, she had. Were their positions reversed, she definitely would have taken offence.
When the door finally opened, Twilight shot to her hooves, an apology already forming on her lips.
“Blueblood, I–” She cut herself off when she saw who was at the door.
“Pardon me, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” the courteous voice started, “but I’m afraid Blueblood will be delayed today.” Onyx Chalice, one of the castle’s butlers, dipped his head in a polite greeting.
Twilight sighed, falling back down in her seat. “Oh, I see.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, it is rare to see a pony eager to meet Canterlot’s finest Prince.”
“He’s the only...” she trailed off as her mind caught the emphasis.
He kept a perfect straight face.“Well, I am not wrong in claiming that then, am I?”
Twilight hid her giggle behind a hoof. “It’s nice to see you again, Onyx.”
While he was not the head butler, Onyx was certainly among the most senior of them. He had been well into his twentieth year when Celestia had first accepted Twilight as her student. With a talent for handling young unicorns, particularly ones with enormous raw talent, Twilight had come to know him over the years quite well.
The black earth pony’s composure broke as he grinned. “The pleasure is all mine, Twilight. I could hardly miss the chance to see what my favourite cookie thief has gotten up to while I haven’t been around.”
She groaned. “Onyx...” It was a long running joke between them. A very long, very embarrassing joke.
“But what type was it again, oatmeal chocolate chip?” He tapped his chin. “No. It was peanut butter white chocolate chip cookies. Care for me to bring some up?”
“No.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a packed napkin. The smell was incredible. “Then you won’t mind if I–”
With a bright purple flash, the napkin found itself in Twilight’s hoof. “If you’re just going to tease me about it then I’ll...” she trailed off as she realized the napkin was empty.
Onyx held out the cookie on a silver platter. “For you, Twilight.” Even now, she never could follow his sleight of hoof. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“A different prince?”
He laughed: a rich sound. “I’m afraid that is a little outside my duties. Though, if it’s a prince charming you're after, I could see about bringing him up.”
She felt her cheeks heat up as Onyx waggled his bushy eyebrows. He knew. She didn’t know how, but he knew.
“While I would love to stay and catch up, I hear you have quite a few stories to tell, but I’m afraid I still have rounds to complete. A foreign dignitary is arriving a little ahead of schedule and his room isn’t ready.”
Though her smile waned, the warmth didn’t leave her eyes. “It’s okay, I understand.”
He turned back at the door and nodded. “Princess.” Then he was gone.
Twilight turned back to the desk in better spirits than she had entered the room with. After half a minute, about the same amount of time it took to eat the cookie, she flipped forward a few pages and started to write. What started as a few words between lines sprung anew onto a fresh page, then another. The minutes passed quickly as she found a comfortable pace. By the time the door opened again, she had four pages. Not an entirely new idea, but certainly a revised copy.
“I do apologize for my tardiness,” Blueblood said, setting down his bag on the desk. “The receptionist misplaced my order and she had to make a special trip. How that mare keeps her job I do not know.”
Twilight tried her best to ignore his scorn; Sweet Hooves was lovely mare who didn’t deserve even a word of it. “Blueblood, I want to apologize for how I acted yesterday.”
He paused from unpacking his back, but didn’t turn. “Oh?”
The back at her mind started to nag about his tone, but she quashed it before it could grow. “When I work, sometimes I get a little caught up in it all, but I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason.”
“Then would you care to explain to me why?”
Her ears folded back. “Just... The rumours, things I hear from ponies, my friends.”
“It is easy to form opinions from gossip without taking the time to determine just why those opinions are so. To keep them in mind, yes, but to believe it to be true is another. It is the mark of unrefined rabble.”
She ignored the thinly veiled insult. “So will you tell me why you tore up my work yesterday?”
The frown was slight, but it was still a frown. “I suppose I did, didn’t I. You could say I was suitable annoyed that you didn’t live up to the praise others spoke of you.” Twilight opened her mouth. “Though I suppose you have made amends for some of your actions.” He fell silent. “Very well. You may accompany me today on my rounds.”
“I’m... Pardon?”
“Oh, you think I just had free time yesterday? I delayed several meetings with dignitaries because Auntie asked me to help you.”
“I don’t see how–”
“Two hours of your time should be enough, just how you wasted two of mine.”
Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but seeing his expression, decided against it. “If that’s what it takes, fine. But I want your opinion on the education reform later on.”
As Twilight quickly learned, Blueblood was a very sought after pony. Whom he was sought after by was another question altogether, though she found she could neatly group them into the unifying category of “snobbish elites”. They were all after something too, coupling their requests with bowing, scraping and what could be politely called “sucking up”. It was as though they felt Blueblood owed them a personal debt. The third noble soon made his excuses and departed, leaving Twilight and Blueblood in the same hallway they had been trying to walk down for the past ten minutes. Thankfully, they seemed to catch a break, and covered a little more distance without being stopped. That is, until a pair of ponies spotted him, who were oh so different from the last.
By the time they actually reached their destination, even Blueblood seemed irritated at the interruptions. At the very least Minster Honey Walnut – the stallion Blueblood was meeting – was a mark better than either Jet Set or Upper Crust, both of whom nearly epitomized the stereotype of a Canterlot Noble.
Honey Walnut was a golden brown unicorn, who looked liked he had he seen more winters than almost any pony Twilight could recall. The streaks of grey through his chestnut mane were a testament to the fact. The age of the stallion was only reinforced by his mannerisms, which were a throwback to many years past. When Twilight had offered her hoof in greeting, he bent down and brushed his lips against her coronet. The blush on her cheeks was inexplicable when the very idea of somepony kissing her hoof was more unsettling than it was courteous.
“Is everything alright Princess?” Honey Walnut asked. His bushy eyebrows rose to disappear in his mane.
She fought back the blush. “Fine, yes.”
“As I was saying,” Blueblood continued, “Honey Walnut is the current Minister of Environment. I had arranged to meet with him yesterday before I rescheduled.” Twilight figured the introduction was more for the jab than anything else; there was no way she couldn’t know who Walnut was.
“Departing minister actually,” Walnut offered sadly. Twilight’s jaw fell open and Blueblood shared the sentiment, albeit muted. Seeing their expressions, he elaborated. “My wife had a heart attack last month, and you could say it changed our priorities.”
“Is Wish alright?” Blueblood asked, his voice cracking. “If I had known...”
“Well, we like to keep our personal affairs to ourselves, not see them in the gossip rags. In any case, she’s made a full recovery but the doctor could find neither rhyme nor reason why it happened. Just age and stress we were told. The diagnosis also came with a recommendation to try a slower pace of life.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “As soon as I can find somepony to fill my position, we’ll be retiring to our home in Vanhoover, but Wish isn’t the type of mare to take it slow.”
A bark of laughter escaped Blueblood.“Yes, Wish certainly isn’t like that.”
“I’m sorry to hear you’re retiring,” Twilight said. “I’ve always heard nothing but good things about you.”
Walnut dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Much from your friend, Fluttershy, I presume.”
“Why yes... How did you know?”
“I’ve met with her quite often over the years for this or that.” He hummed in thought. “Let’s see... I believe I first met her over.... Concerns, that problems with the Ponyville Dam were leading to erosion and depletion of minerals from the soil nearby. It turns out there was a problem with the dam, and it would have eventually led to a collapse. Fluttershy learned of it from animals who drank water from near the dam.” He smirked at the memory. “She said they thought it tasted funny.”
The story came as a surprise to Twilight. She wouldn’t have guessed that Fluttershy would have contacted somepony from the government, a minister no less, just over a concern. Yet, another part of her mind pointed out that if it was to the benefit of the wildlife around Ponyville, there was little Fluttershy wouldn’t do. The more Twilight thought it, and what their lives entailed, the more writing to Honey Walnut seemed rather plain when compared to making friends with Discord.
“Back to the matter at hoof,” Blueblood cut in, “Am I correct in assuming that your retirement is what you wanted to speak to me about?”
He snorted, and stamped a hoof against the marble floor. “Bah! Always in a rush, aren’t you?”
Blueblood didn’t react beyond raising an eyebrow. “And?”
The eyeroll seemed ill-befitting somepony of Walnut’s age. “Yes, that is why I wished to speak to you.”
“Very well then.” Blueblood turned to Twilight. “If you wouldn’t mind...”
She sighed; she had been waiting for it. “Yes, I’ll wait out here.”
→ ↔ ←
Fifteen minutes passed, and the only ponies who passed Twilight’s post were a pair of Solar Guards who gave her a sharp salute before carrying on, and a maid who didn’t notice her around the laundry cart she was pushing. The maid was lucky Blueblood was inside, otherwise Twilight could only imagine the reprimand he would have given her. When the hall was empty once more, Twilight sighed and stared up at the ceiling. This was not how she had intended to spend her day. She could have accepted tagging along with Blueblood, but not if he was just going to push her to the side as he was now.
Twilight gave her wings a quick flap as an itch became unbearable. It was probably just a feather sitting askew, but she hardly felt like preening in her current mood. If Celestia had asked Blueblood to help her, perhaps even teach her something, then what was the point in his charade. He seemed eager to keep her out of his work. Work that, by all rights, she had just as much of a responsibility to contribute to. The duties of the crown were meant to be shared.
It was bad enough that he seemed to be skirting around the issue, even ignoring her all but blatant hints earlier. During the meetings with the nobles who intercepted them, he had acted like she wasn’t even–
The itch struck Twilight again. This time, however, ruffling her wings did nothing but make it worse. She opened and held her wings outstretched to stare at the offending spot, readily to pluck a feather if need be. Only, as she focused on the spot, she found it wasn’t so much of an itch as it was a feeling reminiscent of flying. It was an easy decision to abandon her post by the door to find the source of itch, all the more so when a few steps was enough for the feeling in her wings to change. The... Something, guided her five rooms down and then to the door to her left. She stared at it as she contemplating knocking, before a shudder ran through her and settled her decision.
Twilight knocked thrice on the door, and waited. A faint hum she hadn’t noticed abated, and then the door opened. She flinched in surprise.
The slender ruddy red pegasus tilted her head and smiled. Though from Twilight’s position it was more of a frown. She was entirely one colour, from the roots of her mane to the colour of her irises. “Oh heya princess!” The mare was upside down, and alarmingly at ease with the fact.
“Um... Hello there, miss...”
“I’m Paprika,” she answered cheerfully. “Whatcha need help with?” She gave Twilight a confused look at a sudden realization. “And why are you upside down?”
Twilight opened her mouth, and closed it. “Pardon?”
“Why are you upside down?”
“I– I... I’m not,” Twilight said slowly.
Paprika glanced back into the room. The turn let Twilight see the large piece of cardboard taped to the wall with an arrow pointing to the floor. Written below it in large block font upside down was ‘This side up’. She then glanced out beyond Twilight, for the first time noticing the hall. “Ohh...” Paprika flailed in the air for a moment as she sought to right herself. It was only then did Twilight realize what had struck her as such an oddity. A pegasus flying upside down was one thing, but Paprika had been doing so without even flapping her wings. “Well, there goes that theory.”
“How!” The word burst from Twilight's mouth unbidden.
Paprika brought a hoof to her chin in thought. “My theory? Well, if what just happened is evidence of--.”
“No!” Twilight practically shouted. “How were you flying upside down?”
“I wasn’t flying though.”
“Exactly!”
“But you just asked if I was flying.”
“Upside down,” Twilight confirmed.
“Well, down is relative, but on the upside...”
“Upside?”
“Down,” Paprika said, grinning widely.
Twilight blinked, and stared at her for a moment. “Really?” she deadpanned.
Paprika giggled and spun about in the air. “What can you do for you Princess?”
“Well, you could start by telling me how you are flying like that. Seriously this time,” she quickly added.
“I wasn’t–”
“Floating then?” Twilight said in exasperation. “Does it really matter?”
“Let me just fetch my notes then, they’ll help me explain.” Paprika turned and with one flap of her wings she glided across the room. Just as earlier, she still floated through the air with them closed.
Mystified, and taking the open door as an invitation, Twilight stepped forward.
When Paprika turned around and saw Twilight coming in, her expression changed to one of panic. “Princess, wait!”
The cry came too late.
When Twilight stepped fully into the room, all her weight lifted from her joints, and her hooves left the ground from the force of the gentle walk. Then she panicked.
For most pegasi – or other winged races – when suddenly faced with no ground beneath their hooves, their natural instinct was to open their wings and flap. If a cloud was thin enough that they would fall through, a pegasus would flap their wings to climb back up. In the same way, Twilight had unfurled her wings and flung them in a downwards stroke. Seemingly without gravity’s pull, a feeling not entirely different from free-fall, the stroke was excessive. In the space of a heartbeat, she shot upwards and collided with the ceiling. One wing clipped the modest light fixture and skewed her recovery stroke into a spin. Gravity lurched and pulled at her and every loose item in the room, sending up a cloud of miscellaneous objects. Another bump; another angle.
“Twilight!” The world inverted itself, then tumbled from the continuous roll. Between the fourth and fifth bounce, Paprika smashed bodily into Twilight and wrapped her legs around her barrel. “Close your–” they bumped off the wall. “Close your wings! Stop fighting it!”
“What!?” Twilight shouted.
Paprika gritted her teeth and jabbed a hoof into the base of Twilight’s wings. Her wings snapped shut to protect her sides, and Paprika quickly shimmied her grip upwards to keep them from opening again. It took a moment of careful readjustment with her own wings, but Paprika managed to stop them, leaving them floating in air.
“Twilight?” Paprika said softly.
“Err... What even was that?”
“I promise I’ll explain everything to you, but I need you promise to stay calm and wings closed.”
Twilight breathed deeply, or as deeply as she could while being clasped in a bear hug by Paprika. “Alright.”
She let go of Twilight slowly. “Don’t fight it. Right now up and down don’t matter.”
Twilight looked around the room in sudden understanding. “We’re levitating... But sustained self-levitation is not possible. Well, not easily at least. The forces would have to perfectly counteract each other perfectly and you would still need a static point of origin. Even gravity reversal spells don’t work like this...”
Paprika giggled. “Is this really levitation?”
Twilight raised her hoof limply before her. Unlike any levitation she had felt before, there wasn’t the tell-tale feeling of pressure holding her up. It wasn’t levitation, but weightlessness. She jerked about, looking for floating objects before Paprika grabbed her again.
“No wings,” she warned. The she let go.
“Paprika, it’s just... Weightlessness is something that ponies have been trying to achieve for years. How did you...”
“Princess...” Paprika trailed off suddenly, looking uncomfortable. She shook her head, and her infectious smile returned. “Nevermind. It’s just pegasus magic.”
“Pegasus magic?”
“How do pegasi fly?”
“It’s widely known that wings of a pegasus would be unable to lift something the size of a pony. It’s part of their magic...” It clicked.
Paprika nodded.
“Wait, are you saying that pegasi fly by magic themselves weigh less?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. No one knows. Why do you think I’m doing all of this?”
“You don’t know?”
She gestured to the desk covered in various devices and gadgets. Twilight couldn’t even put a name to half of them, and the ones she could were cutting edge and on her wish list. “There’s never been the equipment which could let me do and measure this.”
“But you are doing it, how could you not know?”
“Because it’s instinctual. When you were first learning how to levitate something, did you understand how levitation actually worked? Don’t you still have to make assumptions to fully explain how levitation works?”
Twilight was silent in thought. “Point taken. But surely you have some theories.”
“Well, yes. One of the first theories I had was it, in essence, nullified mass. Items affected by the field still have the same momentum though, meaning it couldn’t be that simple. Not to mention how air friction and wind would play on it. The field could instantaneously normalize upon a collision with an item, averaging between the two, but I need a lot more time and work to even considering proving that.” She spread her wings and gently drifted to the floor. “Oh, could you come down here too?”
The last part went unheeded “Anything else?”
“It could reduce the pull of gravity on an object. The problem is, in lower power experiments, things affected by the field fell at the same velocity as those that weren’t.” She picked up a notebook from the floor and flipped through pages randomly. “I mean, I’ve been trying different things and there seems to be more depth than just one thing. Maybe it’s both of them, or more, but until I isolate them and can repeat the experiment, I can’t be sure.”
“Still, this... Paprika this is incredible! Do you know–”
Paprika looked up, and was shocked to see Twilight hadn’t moved. “Princess,” she interrupted, “you should probably get down here.” Paprika interrupted.
“Pardon?”
“Get down here.”
Twilight kicked her legs, but barely moved, beyond flipping her on her back. At the very least, the cardboard sign was right side up now. “Uh, give me a moment.”
“I don’t mean to rush you but if you could hurry...” Paprika licked her lips nervously as she glanced at an egg timer on her desk. “Oh.”
Twilight followed her gaze. “Oh, what?”
The egg timer rang once, louder than any egg timer had business being, then stopped. Twilight glanced back up– down at Parika, puzzled. It rang again, and just as before, it stopped.
“Twilight!” Paprika shouted, her ears folding back against her head, “Get–”
It rang a third time, then it fell silent. Nothing happened.
Twilight looked at the timer, then back at Paprika. “Huh,” she said. “What was–” Suddenly gravity resumed control and Twilight fell. “Ow,” she groaned into the floor. She grunted when a spoon which had been caught on the light fixture decided to fall on her head.
“Sorry,” Paprika said sheepishly. She offered Twilight a hoof. “I only designed the experiment to last for a few minutes at a time, and still give you time to get down after the timer rang. I estimated the time by looking at how the field would hold up with two ponies. With a second pony, the field... Well, fell, pretty well when I predicted. Sooner actually, considering you didn’t come in at the start.”
Twilight pulled herself up. “I should have known better to barge in on an experiment.”
“And I should have told you sooner.”
“It’s fine,” she said with a sigh. She glanced around the room, noting the rather peculiar choice in decor. White canvas sheets were stretched along every wall. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the canvas.”
“It’s something I’m trying till I can get a better space,” Paprika answered. “One part of my tests involves disorientation and whether or not I’m able to orient myself correctly in a full saturated field.”
“Well, that would explain some of it, but aren’t there other features you could use, like the light fixture or desk? And full saturated field?”
“Like I said, until I can get a better space. And as for ‘full saturated field’...” She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. “Well, I’m using that till I can come up with better terminology. I’m largely working from scratch here, so I’m kinda making it up as I go.” Paprika wandered over to a corner of the room and poked at a white box a few times before lifting the lid to reveal a complex mechanism.
“What’s that?” Twilight asked. She hadn’t noticed it before, and looking around, she found one at each corner of the room.
“This,” Paprika said, pulling a crystal from its slot, “is what projecting the field. A friend of mine helped me design them. The four of them together balance the field.” She dropped the spent crystal into a bin by the desk.
Something clicked in Twilight’s head. “So when I came in and started flapping my wings...”
She nodded. “Yeah, you kinda messed with the field little. It tried to compensate... And... Yeah. If they had been calibrated, then it could have compensated properly. But without anypony to help me, it’s a little hard to do that.”
Twilight saw an opportunity and took it. “So, could you say you need help?”
“Well, it would be nice.”
“Could I help?”
“Maybe, but–”
She clapped her hooves. “Excellent!”
“But–”
Paprika’s protests were lost on Twilight. “Ever since Star Swirl the Bearded first theorized it, ponies have been trying to create true gravity nullification spells for years! This is the closest thing I’ve ever seen or read about to one, and trust me, I’ve read a lot of old spellbooks! Even the opportunity to help you develop one would be amazing!”
Paprika’s concern gave way at Twilight’s enthusiasm. “Alright princess, you can help me.”
“So, what can we start with? Is there– ” Twilight’s mind caught up with her mouth, and her grin turned to one of sheepishness. Again, she found herself internally cursing Blueblood’s stubbornness.
“Remembered something?” Paprika asked slyly.
“Yes... I would love to stay, but I already have something going on. I can drop by later if that’s fine with you.”
“I’ll be here all week, so you don’t have to worry... At least until I move elsewhere anyway. Just don’t rush in next time, alright?” She offered Twilight a hoof.
Twilight bumped it with her own and chuckled. “Alright.”
→ ↔ ←
The arrogant voice of Blueblood greeted Twilight before the door had even closed behind her. “Oh, so that’s where you went.”
Twilight sighed and leaned her head against the doorframe to find patience. She turned to face him. “Sorry Blueblood. My curiosity got the better of me.”
He stopped in front of her. “You do remember the terms of our agreement, correct?”
“Of course.”
“Then that’s a few minutes added onto it. It would seem your bill will have to wait till tomorrow.
“Really?” Somehow, she wasn’t even surprised.
“I have an unavoidable visit with the minister of finance which will take up the remainder of the afternoon. Holding you to your promise would be impossible otherwise.” With that, he walked off, expecting her to follow.
She did, but with a barely audible sigh. It wouldn’t change anything to try and protest his decision.
“So who did Honey Walnut–”
“Walnut departed a few minutes ago. We’ll be taking the matter of his replacement with auntie later. I was speaking to Lady Rosaceae before you came out.”
Another noble. “What did Rose...” She paused, grimacing at her pronunciation. “What did Rosaceae want to ask you?”
“Lady Rosa, if it is easier.”
“Right, Lady Rosa.”
“She intends to run for the position of crown advisor. She was looking for my endorsement; nothing more.”
“Does she need it?”
Blueblood stopped mid-step to look at her. “You are aware of how our government operates, correct?”
She winced; he had her. “I do, but before I became an alicorn I never really had much ambition for politics except as Celestia’s student. Consequently, I didn’t pay as much attention to the process of being appointed to such positions as I did their duties when I was studying. Maybe after a few more years, I would have, but then I got my wings...”
“And you were given a station above them.”
She hated how he made it sound, but it was true. “Yes. So?”
He started to walk again. “The position of Crown Advisor technically does need the endorsement of royalty, however the endorsement is not limited to a single selection. Twelve ponies already have it and time yet remains before the window closes.”
“What did you think of Lady Rosa? Will she be given an endorsement?”
“We’ll see. I’m awaiting one final document before I make my decision. A servant should be along with it any moment.” He hummed in thought. “Tell me, Twilight, what Royal Duties have you taken up?”
“I... I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“While I have heard from auntie about your cutie map– ” if she hadn’t been listening closely, she would have missed the disbelief in his voice, “ – I haven’t heard of anything else outside of token and ceremonial duties.”
She wasn’t going to take the bait, however much he was trying. “While I offer help with friendship problems at my castle as a form of court, and travel when the cutie map asks it, I won’t pretend that it isn’t something that anypony could do with the right experience and practice. After all, I may be the Princess of Friendship, but friendship isn’t exclusive to me. It’s a duty that I share with my friends. I’ve spoken to Celestia and Luna about it before, and yes, I don’t have much in the way of traditional royal duties. Sure, I oversee and prepare the odd event, but nothing regular. I want to take on my fair share of responsibilities, but I can’t afford to make needless mistakes.” She fixed him with a glare. “That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to learn.”
Blueblood was silent as he walked, judging her with his eyes. Then, he relented with a nod. “There may be hope for you yet.”
She blinked, taken aback. “Um... Thank you?”
He started to walk again, not even waiting for her to catch up.
Supper at the Royal Table was not what most ponies thought it to be. While it was true the odd day would warrant a train of butlers emerging from the swinging doors, carrying silver platters bearing the most incredible of delicacies, those days were special occasion. In truth, in spite of the high ceilings and pristine decor befitting the finest of restaurants, meals at the Royal Table were more like those found at a refined diner.
If a meal was to be ready quickly, then the kitchen couldn’t wait until the Princesses made their mind on an order. Ingredient preparation took time, doubly so for more elaborate dishes. Similarly, if the kitchens wanted to satisfy ponies’ cravings, then they couldn’t just put forward a single choice. Special requests were allowed, but otherwise royalty ate the same as any of the Castle staff. It certainly didn’t bother Twilight; it meant the meals were filling and easy on the stomach. Minestrone soup was something the kitchens did extremely well.
“Sister.”
Celestia looked up from one of her hayburgers at Luna, “What?”
They stared at each other for a few seconds before Luna rolled her eyes. “It is easy to see where Twilight gets her eating habits from.”
Twilight didn’t dare look at the splotches of ketchup and relish on Celestia’s cheeks. She didn’t need to make the comparison herself. The soup was far more interesting than the burger eating habits she most likely picked up from her mentor. Her eyes flicked up, then back down. Absolutely more interesting.
“Oh come off it,” Celestia said, taking another overzealous bite of the burger. “It’s rare for the kitchen to make hayburgers. I’m allowed to let my mane down once and awhile.”
Luna turned halfway in her seat, looking for a servant. “Ah. Tingle Dress, would you be so kind as to fetch my sister’s trough. It seems it might better suit her.” Tingle, a baby blue pegasus, smiled good humouredly from her spot by the door, but otherwise made no move to fulfill the request.
Celestia frowned, then shook her head dismissively. “It’s not that bad.”
“Any worse and I’d have moved your bed to a barn.”
She paused. “We don’t have a barn, Luna.”
Luna leaned forward onto her hooves. “Well, I’m sure Granny Smith wouldn’t mind if we borrowed theirs.”
With an exaggerated flourish, Celestia summoned a napkin and wiped her face. “Happy?”
Luna hummed and cocked her head. “The resemblance to a swine is even more uncanny now.”
Twilight didn’t know what bothered her more: the fact that Luna and Celestia squabbled like a pair of unruly siblings at times, or that no one outside the castle staff – and they were extremely tight lipped – would believe her if she told them. At the very least, their squabbles certainly made for lively dinner conversations.
“Are you still mad about...” Celestia gestured with her hooves, moving them in a little circle.
Luna’s eyes narrowed and her voice dripped sarcasm. “Now why would I ever–”
Twilight clapped her hooves together loudly. “So!” she exclaimed. “How did your day go Luna?”
She turned slowly, and raised an eyebrow. “I was sleeping, Twilight.”
Her ears folded back against her head in spite of her strained smile. “Oh, right... So what’s your plans for tonight then?”
“Nothing particularly out of the ordinary,” Luna answered, pausing to take a bite of her hay, lettuce and tomato sandwich. “Inducting new members into the Lunar Guard is liable to be the highlight of my night.”
Twilight latched onto the new topic. “Oh, how many?”
“Three. One pegasus and two moorie.”
“Moorie?” Twilight asked.
The acknowledgement sounded halfway between a grunt and a vaguely decipherable word. “I still forget you call them bat ponies this day in age. Their names are Thistle Down, Glint Wing, and the pegasus Fairweather.”
Twilight’s head tilted at the first name. “Thistle Down?”
“A parrot does not become you, Twilight,” Luna teased.
The comment earned an amused smirk. “But...”
“Yes, a bat pony by the name of Thistle Down. Do you know him?”
She nodded. “Assuming it’s him, I’d consider him an old acquaintance. We first met at the playground when I was a foal: before I was Celestia’s student. Me being myself back then, I was there reading, or at least until I was until he stole my book away from me so I would play with him and his friends.” That day had ended with Twilight begrudgingly admitting she had had fun.
“Hmm...” Luna hummed. She didn’t seem to have anything more to offer, and went back to eating her sandwich.
“So how was your day, Twilight?” Celestia asked, finishing off her last burger. The napkin quickly followed to stifle the coming comment.
Twilight sighed, losing her smile. “Good up until my meeting with Blueblood.”
“Did you take my advice?”
She nodded. “I did, but to say it worked entirely wouldn’t really be true. If I didn’t know better, I would say Blueblood was trying to waste my time, instead of just inadvertently doing so.”
Celestia sipped her water. “Did nothing good come of it?”
Twilight looked down into her bowl of soup: cream of mushroom with a hint of pepper. “I wouldn’t quite say that much.” She sighed again. “It just wasn’t the most efficient use of my time.”
After Blueblood gave Twilight a near complement for expressing her reasons for wanting to learn, she had hoped the remainder of her time with him would be different. It wasn’t. In fact, if anything, he pushed her to side even more, forcing her to wait in silent hallways or, even better, small windowless waiting rooms. The meetings and conversations he involved her with, two of them, were with the most aloof ponies she had ever met. They had been beyond even the point of satire.
“Celestia told me what happened,” Luna said, reclining in her seat. “I cannot say I’m fond of how Blueblood acts, but it is not my place to dictate how he should.”
“Surely you could talk to him.”
She rocked left then right. “Talk, most certainly, and talked in the past I have. But to dictate, to order, no.”
“Do have any advice for dealing with him at least?” Twilight asked.
“For all his talk, verbal maneuvering and wordplay, he is very direct,” Luna replied. “Don’t bother with trying to ease into a subject; he’ll only take away the point you’re trying to make. Nothing more, no matter how it’s delivered. He acts as he receives in that way.”
Twilight set down her spoon. “So... Get to the point when talking with him?”
She inclined her head. “Correct.”
She nibbled on her bun as she thought it over. Surely there was something she had missed in their conversations. She was fairly confident she hadn’t been beating around the bush, so what could it have been? Her mind drifted through their earlier conversations. “Would either of you be familiar with Lady Rosa?”
The sisters shared a glance. “Yes,” Celestia said, “why?”
“Well, Blueblood met with her today. Apparently she is looking for an endorsement to be a crown advisor. And, well, I was wondering what sort of pony is she?”
“A mare forged in fire and iron,” Luna said darkly.
It was not what she had expected to hear. “What!” Twilight exclaimed.
Celestia sighed and pressed the flat of her hoof to her forehead. “What Luna means to say is Lady Rosa was a blacksmith at a very young age.”
Luna stifled a giggle. “Is that not what I said?”
She ignored her sister. “She was just barely a mare before circumstances led her to Canterlot. Not long after that, she won her title.”
“What do you mean by won?” Twilight asked.
Celestia flicked her hoof. “Just a figure of speech. Lady Rosa was instrumental in coordinating and enacting the rescue and relief efforts during the Clovenshire Landslide. She was very much deserving of the title she received thereafter, and there is some talk that she should have been knighted. As for her personality... I would say she is proud of her roots, but tempers it with a strict patience.
The doors to the dining room opened. “As Twilight seems to thought fit to start this conversation without me,” Blueblood said as he entered, “then let me also add that Lady Rosa is young and inexperienced. She too often speaks from her heart rather than her head.”
“A pleasure to see you, nephew,” Luna said in greeting.
“Yes, I am sure,” he half mumbled. “For the matter of Lady Rosa’s endorsement, I feel there is no reason to discuss the matter.”
“But you said–” Twilight started.
“I said ‘we’ll see.’ Not probably, not maybe, and definitely not yes,” he said sharply. “I can scarcely approve of someone so young, so inexperienced for such a weighty role. I was willing to give her a pass if her actions made her stand out from her peers, but nothing less than that.”
“Being too young is a reason? How old is she?”
Blueblood gave her a once over. “About your age I suppose,” he said pointedly.
Twilight’s jaw fell open at the slight. Her expression tightened and a retort started–
“Blueblood!” Celestia shouted, rising from her seat. Her brow was furrowed crossly. “Could I speak to you in private for a moment!”
He shrugged indifferently and followed her off into a side room leaving Luna and Twilight Sparkle alone.
“That... He...” Twilight sputtered, fuming at the insult.
Luna frowned. “I’d be the first to admit, even for him that was too far.”
“You think!”
“I suspect something happened since you last saw him,” she said. “Let us wait and hear his explanation.”
But, after a few minutes of waiting, it was only Celestia who returned. “Blueblood sends his apologies, but he won’t be joining us again tonight.”
“What was that all about?” Twilight cried.
“Suffice to say we caught him at a bad time.”
“Dare I ask how?”
It was rare for Celestia to let the weariness brought upon by her age show, if only for a moment as the expression flickered across her face. “You’ve grown up in Canterlot, so you are obviously aware of arranged marriages.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” It was a topic which anypony in Canterlot would have heard of.
“Despite my best attempts to crack down on the practice by ranking houses of old nobility, there is only so much I could do without overstepping my bounds. Fear of disownment is a powerful tool parents use to convince their son or daughter to do as they are told.” She shook her head in frustration. “It’s only worse when the parents treat their offspring as little more than a resource to be bought or sold for the right price.”
Twilight’s frowned. “Are you saying...”
Celestia nodded. “A couple made a rather passionate attempt in convincing Blueblood to wed their daughter. As it turns out, the same daughter whose filly had been kidnapped.”
Luna gasped, her eyes wide with realization. “You don’t mean they’re connected!”
“What’s connected?” Twilight asked.
“One of the Royal Guards’ current investigations was into a missing foal case from a minor noble house,” Celestia said, “but there wasn’t much turning up. The mare whose foal went missing: that was the daughter they were trying to wed to Blueblood.” Celestia looked down at her empty plate.
Luna continued where her sister left off, a scowl darkening her features. “In our time, bastard foals were a scandalous affair to be swept under the rug. No pony would dare make a fuss over an extra foal showing up on the doorstep of an orphanage far away with convenient timing. Today, the same does not hold true, but some ponies occasionally still try it.”
“Apparently, they said a little too much. As he had overseen the investigation, Blueblood connected the dots and realized it was her parents who had abducted the foal, who then spun their daughter a tale of sympathy and sorrow. They promised her a fresh start as a princess of Equestria.”
“Wordplay,” Luna said. “I take it that’s the reason for his mood?”
“That and the disgusting absurdity of the whole scenario.”
“I don’t quite understand.” Twilight cut in. “Wordplay?”
“Hanging somepony with a noose of their own making is hardly enjoyable to start with, but to do so while trying to shield their daughter and the foal without committing to anything adds another layer on top of that. According to her parents, Blueblood is arranging to discuss their union at a later date. He’s actually using the time to find the foal, arrange the arrest, and working the legal paperwork to ensure that her parents actions don’t reflect back on their daughter’s future.”
A thought struck her. “Is that why you haven’t told me the family name?”
“Though I loathe to keep it from you, yes.” Celestia hesitated before continuing. “Unless you think it would do some good.”
“No, I understand. The only way to be sure I won’t mention it in passing is not to tell me in the first place. But then why tell me everything else?”
“It’s a very sad state of affairs that it does little to narrow things down, unless you repeated all of it. So, could you pardon Blueblood’s behavior for at least the time being?”
Twilight leaned back, not quite mollified, but close enough. At the very least, she was relieved that Blueblood wasn’t one to tolerate that sort of foul conduct. “I’d still like to revisit the subject Lady Rosa’s endorsement. Meeting her would be nice too. Do you know where I can find her?”
“Raven should have her address,” Celestia said, referring to her secretary, “but why don’t you take the rest of the evening off, Twilight. Speaking with Lady Rosa can wait until tomorrow.”
It was some reluctance that Twilight agreed with the suggestion. “Fair enough.”
“Well,” Luna said, rising from her chair, “we must be off.”
“Using the royal ‘We’ again, are we?” Celestia asked.
She turned back with a sly smile. “No, we have somewhere to be. You did promise after all.”
It took a moment, but the memory returned with a groan. “Right,” Celestia said, her ears folding back against her head. “That.”
→ ↔ ←
Celestia had been kind enough to lend Twilight her old quarters: the room from when she had been Celestia’s student. Though, calling it a tower instead of a room wouldn’t have been much of an exaggeration. Twilight dropped her bags by the door with a sigh, and flew over to the bed to flop down on it. It had been a long day, stretched longer by the pains of dealing with Blueblood. He had this way of slowing everything down to a crawl, dragging on with his pompous–
Twilight buried her head in a pillow to try and block the memories. It was done for the day. The last thing she needed to do was to dwell on it. She lowered the pillow and took a look around her old quarters. It had been a long time since she had last come here; a long time since she had been in Canterlot for a reason other than duty or an event. As she lay there, she struggled to figure out what to do for the rest of the evening.
Reading up on a few of her old favorites was out; most of the books had been moved to her castle, or were little more than ash thanks to Tirek. Her gaze drifted around the room to the tables with orderly arranged science equipment alongside the telescope. She was hardly in the mood to run any science experiments, and it was definitely a little early to try out the old telescope by the window.
Her eyes settled on her old desk. It would be a good use of her time to work on the education reform, but she just didn’t feel motivated to. Beyond getting the files from her bag, she would have to check the quills, refill the inkwell, and find some new paper. The reform could wait till morning anyway. With a sigh, she rolled over and looked elsewhere.
Her gaze drifted around the room, before it settled on the view of the city through the window. She smiled as a realization struck her: it had been a while since she had visited her parents.
If there was one thing Twilight could claim over the other princesses, it was her size. It was easy to be envious of Celestia and Luna, or even Cadence for that matter. Their figures seemed to lend them an almost swan like grace at times. Meanwhile, Twilight was entirely average size for a mare, if not a hair on the shorter side. And most of the time, she was quite happy with that fact. Whereas the other princesses would almost instantly be recognized, all it took was a light cloak to hide her wings, or a hat for her horn, and at a brisk trot nopony recognized her. Or at least, nopony recognized Twilight till she was already past. The busy streets of shops and vendors soon gave way to more quiet roads of houses.
The house her parents lived in – and the one Twilight grew up in – was a little bit of a trot away from the castle. In a city where the closer to the castle one lived, generally the more expensive it was, a house next to the castle often cost more than what most ponies would make in their lives. Those homes were certainly well beyond what her parents could afford. Still, they lived much closer to the castle than stood to reason, but the house had been a gift. Night Light’s brother never really saw the need of the family home he had been given when he had officer quarters at the castle and a flat elsewhere in the city.
It was a relatively modest house, with a low fence encircling the small yard out front. The architecture was rather conservative, the marble so custom to Canterlot just about the only thing really different than houses you might find in any other city.However, Twilight could look up and down the street to see similar houses – in fact several of them were identical – but it was only this one she identified as home. The softer decorations, such as the recently painted shutters, the garden, and the cobblestone path leading to the door, were all her family’s touch.
Twilight knocked on the door.
“Coming!” A mare’s voice called from inside.
Twilight greeted the opening door with a smile. “Hi mom,”
Twilight Velvet started, shocked for a moment, before embracing her daughter in a hug. A tight hug. “Oh honey! It’s so good to see you.” She pulled away, holding onto her daughter’s shoulders. “What’s the occasion?”
“Occasion?”
“For visiting us, of course.” Velvet chuckled as her daughter shrunk away. “Relax Twilight, I’m just teasing you.”
“I feel bad that I’m not able to visit more often,” she admitted.
Velvet touched her daughter’s cheek. “So long as you try when you’re able, neither I or your father are going to hold it against you,” she said. “You are a princess after all.”
The words didn’t quite settle the flutter of guilt in her chest, but it was close. Truth was, she probably could visit more often. “Thanks mom.”
“So, how are things with you?”
Twilight sighed, and her expression fell.
“Oh, bad day?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“Well, why don’t you come in for supper. Spinning Top and Starbuck are over, and it would be no issue to set up another place setting.”
Spinning Top and Starbuck were longtime family friends, and Twilight could scare remember an age when she hadn’t known them. Starbuck and Night Light had met at work at the Royal Observatory, quickly becoming fast friends. As such friendships go, Spinning Top was introduced to Velvet, who quickly bonded.
In spite of having known them for so long, Twilight hadn’t been expecting there to be company and suddenly didn’t feel so confident. “I wouldn’t want to intrude; I mean I’ve already eaten...” She trailed off at the disbelieving expression her mother wore.
“Though you act the part as a studious filly,” she started, “you’ve never had the appetite of one. I wager you could polish off a bowl of two of macaroni and cheese. It’s Grandma’s recipe.”
It was a near thing, but Twilight couldn’t stop the questioning gurgle of her stomach. Grandma’s recipe for macaroni and cheese was something of legends. “That does sound good...”
Velvet smirked knowingly. “I wager it sounds a little more than just good.” She turned and stepped back inside.
Twilight pulled the door shut behind her as she entered, and smiled as she stood in the entryway. The house hadn’t changed much since she was a foal, save for a few odd things here and there. The table by the door still had the crack in one of the legs from the time her brother had slipped on the carpet and slid into it, while chasing her around the house.
The dining room was very much the quintessential dining room; as customary as they come. A few cabinets storing the fine china stood along the walls, framing the carpet and table. The old wooden table could comfortably fit six ponies, and squeeze in eight. Her father sat on one side of the table, while across from him sat Starbuck and his wife, Spinning Top. Starbuck was a stocky emerald green unicorn, with a wavy grey mane. An accident with a heavy cart had left his muzzle almost imperceptibly crooked. Spinning Top an earth pony with a cream coloured coat and a two toned, red and yellow mane. A fondness for sweets left her just a little plump.
“Princess!” Spinning exclaimed, practically jumping up from her chair.
Twilight grinned sheepishly. “Just Twilight please, Spinning. You’ve known me since I was a foal.”
Starbuck snorted. “I told you dear.”
Spinning grumbled, and whacked him on the shoulder. “She is still a princess now; it is polite.”
“Twilight was never one to stand for tradition,” Night Light said. A deep fear suddenly sparked in Twilight at the conspiratorial grin he wore. “She’d rather–”
“Dad, no,” Twilight interrupted.
“As I was saying, she’s never been one to stand for tradition. She’d much rather sleep. One time during... Gosh, I can’t even remember the occasion now. Anyway, it comes time to rise for the Equestrian anthem, and Twilight’s fast asleep leaning against Celestia, clutching Celestia’s tail like a teddy bear. There’s was a lovely full page shot in the newspaper the next day.” The table broke out into chuckles. “We still have the paper if you want to see.”
Twilight felt a blush adorn her cheeks. “Thank you for that Dad.”
“My pleasure.” Twilight was sure it probably was.
The timer in the kitchen rung, and Velvet rose from her seat. “I’ll get it.”
“So how are things going? Any new monsters or villains? ” Night Light asked Twilight.
“That’s a little specific don’t you think?” Starbuck commented.
“If I’m not vague, she keeps things from us. She tries to keep us from worrying.”
He inclined his head. “Point.”
“No bugbears this time,” Twilight said. “Just paperwork. I’ve come up to Canterlot to do some work.”
“Who’s watching your castle?” Night Light asked.
“Starlight. Knowing her, she’s probably happy to have the castle to herself.” She rubbed the back of her head with a hoof. “I suspect there might be a few renovations in the interest of relaxation by the time I get back, but she could really use the rest. Spike too. Things haven’t let up since Thorax became king of the changelings.”
“Backtracking for a second,” Starbuck said, “is the castle in Ponyville yours?”
Twilight cocked her head in confusion. “I don’t follow.”
“Well, do you own it? The one in Canterlot is owned by the crown, not anypony specifically.”
She had to stop and give it some thought, recalling the conversation with Luna the one time. “Last time I checked, it’s a little up in the air,” she admitted. “There isn’t really a precedent for buildings sprouting up from the ground. In some ways, the concept of ownership is somewhat problematic.”
“But didn’t the rainbow power create it?” Spinning Top asked.
“Yes.”
“And weren’t you one of the ponies who wielded it?”
“Again, yes, but that is assuming that we were the source of the magic, not just the trigger,” Twilight explained. “For instance, when I was the element of magic, it wouldn’t really be accurate to say that the element of magic was mine in a legal sense. So far my research into the rainbow power suggests anypony might be able to wield it under the right circumstances. The magic ‘choosing’ somepony further complicates things, as should it mean the chosen ponies own the castle?”
Spinning scrunched her muzzle in puzzlement. “Chosen? So the magic is sentient or something?”
“Nopony knows. Same sort of situation as the elements of harmony actually. Which brings me back to the initial problem. If I could be considered the owner for having created it, the deed would be split six ways with my friends. The crown doesn’t really have a hoof in it’s creation beyond me occupying it as a princess. And if it...” A realization struck her. “Huh.”
“What?” Starbuck asked.
“I just realized Carrot Top might have claim to the castle too. She’s a farmer in Ponyville and she bought the land the castle’s on for some crop experiments just before it all happened. I’ll have to talk with her when I get back to Ponyville.”
“So who compensates her then? You, your friends or the crown?” Starbuck asked. “I don’t think the Rainbow Power has any bits to give her.”
Twilight stopped, then she covered her eyes with a hoof and groaned. “Alright, that’s it. I’m going to figure out who owns what when I’m done here.”
“So what are you doing here?” Velvet asked as she came back into the room bearing the dish of pasta and a warm baguette. “It’s not like you to drop in unannounced.”
“I had been working up at the castle today, and with my evening free I thought I could use a little break. I’m working on an education reform to help foals who fall below the national thaumaturgic average due to circumstantial factors, such as lack of access to proper facilities or instruction. Thanks mom,” she added as Velvet scooped her out a helping of macaroni and cheese.
“Well,” Night Light said, “my first thought would be ‘it’s about time’, but how are you going to pull it off?”
“I’ve worked out the funding,” Twilight offered. “Some other parts of it still need refinement, though, so the details aren’t quite set in stone yet.”
“No, I mean how are you going to make sure you cover everything and integrate it with what's already there?”
Starbuck nodded with growing confidence. “I think I get where Night is going with this. This about that thing in the paper the other week?”
“What thing?” Twilight asked, looking between Starbuck and her father.
Night Light looked to Velvet. “You can probably tell it better than I could.”
Velvet continued to serve as she talked. “Fancy Pants made a donation to three elementary schools and a secondary school in Canterlot last week so they could purchase equipment to help teach magic. It was quite well received until one reporter raised a question. She asked him about why he didn’t think about donating to Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns instead. He said, ‘The only time I’d even think about donating to that place is if they were raising money to tear it down.’ ” Velvet gave Twilight a wry smile. “Suffice to say ponies are not happy about it, some even going as far as to say that the schools should reject his donations.”
“Understandably!” Twilight declared. “The school helps hundreds of foals develop their talents.”
“It’s unfortunate that I agree with him.”
Twilight gaped unabashedly at her mother. “Why!”
“I wouldn’t come on quite as strong as Fancy Pants did, but the public schools do suffer horribly because of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns... Well at least when it comes to magic. There's this attitude that any foal who can’t pass the exam is obviously second rate and not worth the time. No one will quite say it, and some ponies don’t intentionally act that way, but it’s how it is.”
“The entrance exam is a little strict,” she admitted.
“It’s more than a little strict,” Velvet said. “Mess up the exam, you’re out unless you pay the retesting fee. Not suited to their brand of testing, you’re out. Can’t meet the certain index of strength, you’re out. The whole school needs to be restructured to allow for a broader range of talents. You were so close to failing to entrance exam, even though you knew more about magic most third years students at the time.”
The test, as Twilight had learned in hindsight, was to cast some form of magic on a dragon egg: Spike’s egg. Few things were as resilient to magic as dragon eggs, to the point they were all but impossible to carry with magic. Even before she was an alicorn, it would have been near impossible for Twilight to draw forth enough magic without a surge. At the time of the test, she had incorrectly assumed that there was a certain spell to hatch the egg, and that the point of the test was to hatch the egg. The only problem was dragon eggs tended to diffuse any complex spell into its base elements. The real purpose of the test had been to draw forth as much magic as possible, the adjudicators basing on their decision on how the egg reacted. Using enough power, regardless of spell, would have hatched the egg.
“Even if I had that time, I could have taken the test again, or tried again next year,” Twilight said.
Night Light cleared his throat. “Honey, we’ve never told you this, but coming up with the money to have you write the exam in the first place wasn’t exactly easy. If you had failed, there’s no way we could have managed to pay the retesting fee. We were so worried that you would be heartbroken when we had signed you up. And the test is a practical test, not theory. Think of all your unique experiences and practice in your first year. Could you have passed the next one without them?”
To that, Twilight didn’t have an answer. She toyed with a macaroni noodle with her fork trying to figure it out.
“The school is great in what it teaches,” he continued, “but it’s better suited for practical ponies to learn theory than those who know theory to learn practical means. As a unicorn, you’d get a better magical education in Manehatten than here if you didn’t make it.”
“If I had failed that test, what would have happened?”
Her parents exchanged a sad look. “We’re not sure,” Velvet said. “We could have seen about getting a private tutor, but that could have cost more than we could afford. Especially considering your understanding of theoretical knowledge limited our choices.”
The knowledge troubled Twilight more than she cared to admit. She knew that the exam had been an important point in her life, for it marked her start as Celestia’s student, but she had always assumed that being a normal student of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns to be the alternative, even if she was a little delayed. To hear otherwise changed things. It was hard to imagine how different her life would have been.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
“Wonderful pasta, Velvet” Spinning Top said.
“Changing the subject subtly, are we?” Starbuck quipped. He winced as she rapped his shins.
“Starbuck!”
“Thank you Spinning,” Velvet said. “But yes, perhaps we should pick a different topic. Are you working on this reform by yourself dear?”
“Blueblood unfortunately,” Twilight answered with a sigh.
“And that explains the rough day.”
“Blueblood, really?” Starbuck asked. “How is Celestia expecting you to make something actually worthwhile implementing working with him?”
“If it gets bad, I’ll press Celestia on it,” Twilight said. “I’m not about to let him ruin the reform.”
“Enough of this talk of work,” Night Light said with a dismissive snort. “I think all of us hear enough about politics without having to talk about it.”
“Too true,” Spinning Top agreed.
“So how about hoof ball then? Canterlot is doing awfully well this season.”
Starbuck hummed through a mouthful of pasta. “That reminds me, I know somepony who can get us tickets to the finals if Canterlot makes it that far.”
“Really!” Night Light exclaimed. “That’s fantastic.”
Spinning Top mouthed something at Velvet who snickered in response.
“How about you Twilight?”
Twilight cocked her head. “Hmm?”
“I could see about getting you tickets if you want.”
“I don’t mind watching hoofball, but it’s Spike who loves the stuff,” Twilight admitted. “Spike, Discord, and a couple of ponies around Ponyville get together to watch the matches. If you could get two extra, I’d come, but Spike would appreciate it a lot more.”
“How’s the sweetheart doing?” Velvet asked.
“He’s keeping busy. He and Starlight really get along, and he’s been keeping in touch with Ember and Thorax. I’ve been thinking about school too.”
“Finally taking my advice?”
“Sort of,” Twilight admitted. “Agewise, he’s not much younger than me, but he’s a dragon. Dragons mature slower than ponies, so I have to look at different groups. I’m fairly confident Spike wouldn’t have much to learn from school, but then there’s the social aspect of it all. Then, on top of it, I’m having trouble figuring out what grade would be appropriate to enroll him at.”
“Why not look at something else then,” Spinning suggested. “If you’re just wanting him to meet more ponies, there’s all sorts of clubs or activities you could enroll him in. It doesn’t just have to be school. They also are often broader age groups too.”
“I’m still looking, but I’m not sure.”
“Then why don’t you ask him? No sense in enrolling him in something he has no interest in.”
“I probably should,” Twilight admitted. “I’m still need to figure out how to bring up the topic.”
“Oh, and why don’t you ask if he’d want to come stay with us for a week,” Velvet said. “It’s been far too long since we’ve seen him.”
Spike had a rather interesting family arrangement. Publically, he called Twilight Velvet and Night Light mom and dad, given the role they had in his upbringing. But while Celestia had been a little vague on the details the last time Twilight had asked, technically Celestia was Spike’s legal guardian. She had no idea whether that extended enough for Celestia to be considered his mother. Twilight suspected Spike knew the exact details a little better, but kept them to himself due to the fuss some ponies might make. Ever since he had left Canterlot, Celestia had entrusted Twilight to make decisions in her place.
“I’ll talk to him about it,” Twilight said. She stopped, recalling something. “If there’s that hoofball championship game coming up– “
“Probably coming up,” Starbuck cut in.
“-- probably coming up,” she continued, “how about he comes up then? It gives you a bit of time to get ready, and it will be a fun week for him.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Night Light exclaimed.
“I agree,” Velvet said.
The rest of the meal passed pleasurably, the conversation turning to Spinning Top’s quilting and later the new constellation Luna had set up in the sky. Once everypony had finished their meals, Night Light collected their plates and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned bearing a rhubarb and pear crumble and ice cream. Twilight feared that by the time she got back to Ponyville, the number on the scale wouldn’t be to her liking.
Though the anti-fogging charm needed a little juice, Twilight as happy to see the spell on the mirror was still in place after so many years. The hot shower had been precisely what Twilight’s neck and shoulders had needed after the late night hunched over the desk working, but it made the relatively large washroom closer resemble a sauna. For whatever reason, the exhaust fan was still broken despite numerous requests over the years to get it fixed. In fact, it probably never had worked.
Twilight had scarcely finished straightening her tail before she heard a knock at the door. “One minute!” she shouted. With a few quick twists of the towel, and a couple of quick spells to finish drying off and straighten her mane, Twilight answered the door.
A pale beige coated mare greeted her with a smile: Celestia’s secretary, Raven Inkwell. Her mane was every bit as black as her name suggested. “Good morning, princess. Did I wake you?”
“No, I was just in the shower. I was up a little late last night.” After Twilight had gotten home from her parents’ house, she had looked into touching up her proposal for education reform. Her parents’ words had made her consider her ideas from a different angle.
Raven smirked “At least the sun was still down when you went to bed this time.”
The comment drew a blush to Twilight’s cheeks. “I... I wasn’t that bad.”
She fixed Twilight with a disapproving look. “You and I both know that’s a lie.”
It was painfully true, so painfully true. As Celestia’s student, Twilight had spent far too many nights awake till the sun rose working on projects of one nature or another. Often it was Raven who was the first to find Twilight had spent the entire night awake, as she came to collect the filly for her lessons with Celestia. Those lessons had often turned into lectures about why sleep was important for growing fillies, even though Twilight would frequently deduct sleep to be an unnecessary waste of study time. She had even penned a nice little book now in the restricted section of the library about the eldritch horror of “super caffeine”.
That would be the last experiment Twilight was allowed to run regarding sleep and how to prevent it.
“Fine...” Twilight sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “Is there something happening today?”
“Seeing as how you have a few things going on today, or so I was told, I took the liberty of preparing a schedule.” She offered Twilight a piece of paper from her clipboard. “I’ve tentatively arranged for you to have breakfast with Lady Rosa. It was the only time she was available today.”
“She’s busy?”
Raven shook her head. “Not terribly. She was up this morning at four to start working. Anyway, after breakfast you have a few hours free ‘till your next appointment.”
“Thanks Raven.”
“My pleasure Twilight.” She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a slip of paper. Twilight took it and stole a quick glance. It was brief directions. “That’s where you’ll be meeting. Breakfast will be served in forty...” Raven stopped to check her pocket watch. It was a truly ancient thing; passed down between each one of Celestia’s secretaries. “Forty-two minutes.”
Twilight nodded. “Alright.”
“Oh... And Twilight?”
“Yes?”
“Celestia mentioned what you’re trying to accomplish here, or at least start. If you are looking to take up more responsibilities, I know some ponies who would serve you well as a secretary.”
“I think I’m fairly organized, or at least I’m not that busy yet.”
“It would be easier to start looking for one before you get so busy that you need one.”
The idea was attractive in that respect, though Twilight wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of somepony else conducting her schedule. “I’ll consider it. Spike generally helps me schedule, so I think I can manage for the moment.”
“If it works for you, I won’t criticize it,” Raven said. “I’m afraid I must be off now. I have the enjoyable task of trying to rouse Celestia after she slept in.”
She giggled. “Well, best of luck with that. You have my approval to use whatever method you see fit.”
A part of Twilight worried as Raven trot off with a spring in her step, but much of the morning was already gone and there was plenty of work to be done. The first event on the schedule, clearly highlighted, was breakfast with Lady Rosa. The only issue was, she couldn’t put a location to the name: Firefield Grotto. She knew it was in the castle gardens, from the directions on the slip Raven had given her, but nothing more. Perhaps she had just forgotten, but she couldn’t quite place her hoof on what seemed so strange.
→ ↔ ←
The Royal Gardens consisted of several elaborate and expansive areas of the castle grounds. While more frequently used by the princesses for pleasant walks, the gardens often served to host diplomatic discussions with ambassadors for other nations, or garden parties by the affluent elite. The remainder of the time, they were a common place for the castle staff to have their breaks. With the Equestrian government ever expanding as the population bloomed, rooms used less critical functions were shifted elsewhere, often to the subterranean levels. The castle dungeon had long since been renovated for other purposes, but they made for very dreary break rooms.
The gardens could be roughly divided into five sections: the maze, the banquet field, the statue garden, the gardens proper, and the conservatory. Each were frequently used, some for pleasure others for business. The directions Raven had given her took her along the outer few pathways of the hedge maze. It was unspoken but common knowledge that the maze also served another purpose; elicit romantic meetings. There were several stories, all plausible, about why Celestia had it grown. The two most popular: it had been built as a gift for young nobles to escape prying eyes of their peers and parents, or for Celestia and an unknown suitor. Needless to say, the latter was normally followed with rather scandalous guesses.
Twilight suspected the maze just to be a shortcut though, and was proven correct as the directions led her towards the statue garden. She was nearly starting to wonder if Raven had played a joke on her, when she heard a gentle rasp of stone on metal. A quick glance down at the note confirmed the sound and her destination to be in the same direction. The statues gave way to a few trees, then a clearing.
And a dragon.
A slate grey dragon stood on his hind legs, smoke pouring from his nostrils. His glowing fire-red eyes seemed to look over the whole clearing at once without focusing in any one place. The pillar he stood on rose up and split, letting him lean one arm on a ledge while the other held an oversized hammer at his side. It was only after a moment of staring that she realized the dragon was a statue which formed an elaborate chimney to a forge. Granted, it was probably the most lifelike statue of a dragon Twilight had ever seen, but it was still a statue. She was glad that the dappled tawny mare working at the anvil hadn’t seen her little blunder.
Twilight ran her hoof through her mane then cleared her throat. “Lady Rosa?”
“One sec’ princess,” she replied without even looking up. Her body shielded what she was working on from Twilight’s view. “Dammit,” she muttered. With a sigh, she placed what she was working on into the furnace, then turned to face Twilight. “Yes?”
Twilight’s initial impression of Rosaceae was very off from the imagery ‘lady’ suggested. Rosa was a large soft-tawny earth pony who’s dappled appearance came from the large splotches of soot and ash across her body. Her silver mane was tied back into a tight ponytail, and was slick with sweat. A few wayward strands framed tired pale blue eyes, but what stood out the most was her physique. Lady Rosa’s wiry build would barely have looked out of place on Big Mac.
“I take it you are Lady Rosa, right?”
She bobbed her head, taking a moment to brush back the few strands of her mane which had come loose.“You can drop the Lady, though. Makes me feel old.”
“Just so long as you don’t call me Princess.” Twilight answered.
“Your highness?”
She grimaced. “No.”
“Your grace, your eminence, your majesty... Am I getting warmer?” Rosa asked with a teasing grin.
Twilight’s ears flopped down, and she harrumphed. “How about I start calling you Granny Rosa.”
Rosa loosed a short bark of laughter. “Not a fan of the title, huh?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “It gets tiring after the first few... hundred times.” It was downright ridiculous at times. Ponies insisted that they address her as princess despite her protests, as if it was her name.
Elsewhere in the castle, Celestia sneezed.
Rosa held up a hoof, chuckling. “I like you, Twilight, and trust me, I get it.”
The hoof bump left Twilight’s hoof just as dirty as Rosa’s was. Twilight casually scrubbed it against a flagstone when Rosa turned to the forge. “Do you know anything about this statue?” Twilight asked. “I’ve never been in this part of the gardens.”
Rosa tossed her head towards the statue. “Him?” she asked. “Went by the name Firebrand.”
The name ticked Twilight’s memory. “Firebrand... Wasn’t he responsible for most of Celestia’s and Luna’s regalia?” That, and most of the throne room’s metalwork.
“Last time I checked. Some ponies wanted to build him a statue. He didn’t. This was a compromise.”
Twilight glanced up at the statue. The fact it was a compromise which sacrificed nothing spoke volumes of the sculptor’s talent. “The books I’ve read never mentioned if he was still alive.”
“Maybe, though he’s probably sleeping.” She turned to Twilight. “So, this about me seeing Blueblood?”
“Well... yes. The topic of crown advisors came up and I wanted to meet you. Not just everypony looks to be a crown advisor.”
Rosa leaned up against the table and arched an eyebrow. “This an interview then?”
“No,” Twilight admitted. “I’m still too inexperienced to be making that call, but it’s a good opportunity to observe the process and see what the ponies who want the position are like.”
“Well, that’s one take on it... Blueblood said anything about me then?”
It was a question Twilight had anticipated, and one she had prepared for, but it would seem no amount of practice would let her keep a straight face and feign ignorance. Rosa clearly recognized her expression as what it was, but the reaction was not one Twilight expected: laughter.
Rosa carried on for a few more seconds before noticed Twilight’s confusion. “Twilight, I know you’re new to politics, but it’s hard to believe that you don’t know about Blueblood.”
“I... I don’t follow.”
“Why in the world would I want an endorsement from Blueblood? That’s like a fire extinguisher getting the endorsement of an arsonist. Only ponies Blueblood would endorse are ones which could further his agendas, or to prop up one of his followers.” She shook her head. “Nah, I’m glad to hear... Well, know that.”
“Then why did you see him in the first place?”
Rosa’s smile fell. “That’s something I’ve been trying to figure out. It’s no small secret I get along well with Luna, so I asked for Celestia’s endorsement instead. I figured that way ponies would see it as a bit fairer. But I’m guessing somepony went and changed it on me.”
“Do you mean maliciously?”
“Eh? Oh. Yeah. I mean, it could be a mistake, but I certainly wouldn’t put any money on it.”
It was a sad truth that underhanded and subversive politics were alive and well in Canterlot. “Be that as it may,” Twilight said, “the fact it’s a crime to tamper with government documents would discourage some ponies.”
“True,” she admitted.“But, you’re forgetting one thing about ponies like them: it’s not a crime if you don’t get caught.” She turned and took a peek inside the furnace. A throaty laugh bubbled up at the sight. “Finally!
Twilight craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of what it was. “A... Sword?”
“Commision piece for Luna,” Rosa explained. “It’s been awhile since I’ve made one. She supplied the metal, but I’ve never seen anything like it. It needs to be hotter than it has any right being before I can work it.”
There was a slight blue tinge to the metal in spite of it glowing from the heat. “I can’t say I recognize it either.”
“Well, I think I can make it work.”
“Do you need any help?”
“Not much with this, but do you know how to sharpen edges?”
“Yes, though I hardly make a practice of it.” Her laboratory equipment at time had instruments which needed to be sharp to reduce noise in collected data. Learning how to properly sharpen to a high precision had been far less wasteful than buying a new set each time.
Rosa gestured at the table set up, towards a set of chisels, knives and other tools. “If you wouldn’t mind sharpening some of them...”
“I can do that. ” Twilight picked up a couple of the tools, examining the ones which were most in need of maintenance. Her eyes drifted down the table, and fell upon a knife so different from the other. It was immaculately crafted, with fine lines through the hilt and blade, and a slight but gentle curve as it tapered to a point. The metals gleamed to an almost mirror polish, and the small pommel was sculpted into the image of a roaring dragon.
“Like it?”
Twilight looked up at Rosa, whom had an amused look in her eyes. “It’s incredible.”
“It’s one of my graduate pieces,” she explained.
“Where did you graduate from?”
Rosa laughed; the sound suited her. “Graduated my great-grandfather’s expectations. He wouldn’t leave me alone with his forge otherwise. Unlike my parents, he saw smithing as an art. He spent a couple of years teaching me the finer points of shaping metal, and some less than common techniques too. He was a crotchety old bastard, but dragons his age usually are.”
“You learned to smith from a dragon?” She paused as she connected what Rosa said. “Wait, your great-grandfather was a dragon?
Rosa smirked. “To the first: yes. It’s also why I’m using this forge instead of the ones in the guard tower.”
“Why’s that?” Twilight asked.
She disappeared under the table for a moment, and came back up with a burlap bag. She tugged out a translucent orange crystal of sorts, and tossed it to Twilight without a word.
There was something vaguely familiar about the piece, but Twilight couldn’t quite place her hoof on what... it...
She dropped the shard with a shriek, and scrambled back a couple of steps. “Fire elemental shards! You’re using fire elemental shards as fuel!”
The look Twilight got was half confused, half amused. “Yeah, and?”
“They burn almost hotter than an elder dragon’s fire!”
“When they burn,” Rosa added.
“Exactly!”
“Mind passing me one over?”
Confused, Twilight did so, standing well back from the little shard as she levitated it to Rosa. But to Twilight’s horror Rosa accepted it with her bare hooves. “Rosa!”
The warning went unheeded. “There’s one thing that most ponies forget about these things,” she said as she lay it onto the table. With a flourish, she drew the poker resting on the edge of the furnace. The tip came away cherry red, and she lay it against the shard as Twilight’s shout strangled in her throat.
And nothing happened.
“The ignition point is stupidly high,” Rosa explained as she returned the poker to the furnace. “They may burn hotter than dragonfire, but it takes dragonfire, or at least a well stoked charcoal furnace before they burn. If you have a special forge like this one, it’s barely worth fretting over.”
“I see.”
“And as for great-grandad being a dragon, it’s really not that big a deal. Only thing I get from him is a couple of scales here and there, a love of warmth, and...” she pursued her lips and blew a small gout of fire. “That.” She smacked her lips a couple of times. “Makes my mouth taste like ash though.”
“You’re a hybrid?”
In a world of many races and species, marriage outside one’s own kind was almost an inevitability, even if uncommon due to cultural and physical differences. Offspring of such unions were even more infrequent, displaying characteristics and magic of either parents. But the unique traits usually died out within a generation or two at most if the races didn’t intermingle any further. It was particularly rare to hear of traits surviving several generations, with a few exceptions.
Rosa stopped, then gave a disgruntled snort. “Yeah, if you think of it that way. But go back far enough, and I’m sure you can find another race in your family tree. Five generations back and you’re looking at a pool of thirty-two. Ten, and you’re looking at a thousand or so.”
“Still there are very few dragon-pony hybrids. They’re about as rare compared to hippogryphs, as hippogryphs are to ponies.”
Twilight couldn’t quite place the expression Rosa wore, guarded as it was. “And why do you think that is?”
“Different lifespans, cultural differences...” She hummed. “Neither of those would explain the low numbers though.”
“How big is a dragon?” Rosa asked with just the right amount of emphasis.
“What do you...” Twilight trailed off as her mind started to connect the dots. “Oh.” She suddenly felt all too warm as she blushed all the way to the tips of her ears at the mental picture. “Oh,” she repeated, this time more of a squeak than anything else. The blush doubled as Rosa cackled.
“I’m not saying you walked into that one but...”
She sighed. “Yes, I suppose I did.”
“You pretty much got it right, except maybe for diet, but I’m betting you were thinking something a little different. It’s hard to start a relationship knowing that one of you will still be living when the other’s bones have turned to dust. That’s what Great-grandpa said at least.” She snorted, and gave her head a dismissive shake. “It doesn’t exactly make for cheery conversation, does it?”
“No, I don’t mind,” Twilight confessed. “It’s actually similar to what Celestia has said about her age.”
“Really? How did you coax that out of her?”
“It’s a bit of a funny story, actually. I must have been about twelve, and I was determined to find Celestia a special somepony for heart and hooves day that year. There were flowcharts, lists, and diagrams about who would be the perfect match. I even had Cadence help me plan the date.”
“Oh, Cadence must have loved that.”
Giggling, Twilight nodded. “I want to say it was the sous-chef who won our selection, but I really can’t remember. It all went just about as well as you’d expect. Once it was all over, Celestia took us aside and explained to us why she didn’t have a special somepony. Even with everything she sees, the best of Equestria even, she still has to steel her heart against time.”
“So, has she ever been married?”
“That was my next question for her. Her exact words were: ‘I’m as flesh and blood as any other pony.’ ”
“Hmm...” Rosa was silent for a few seconds, then gave Twilight a conspiratorial look. “Makes you wonder if Princess Celestia’s ever hooked up with a dragon. There’s certainly features a mare her size could appreciate.”
“Rosa!” Twilight exclaimed sharply.
“What? I was just thinking it must get tiring being taller than everypony.”
She sighed, and rubbed her temple with a hoof. “Sure you were.”
The two fell into silence after that, Twilight turning her attention to the grindstone, while Rosa tended to the forge. Twilight had to admit, there was something very soothing about the work. There was a rhythmic pace to the motions, serenaded by the scent and sound of the fire, and the chirping of the birds in the trees. The noise of the city did not even reach this part of the gardens.
“Say, Twilight,” Rosa said after ten minutes.
She didn’t look up from the straight knife she was working on. “Hmm?”
“Is it true you’re working on an education reform?”
Twilight lifted the knife from the wheel, and set it down on the table. “Where did you hear that?”
“News travel fast.”
She nodded. “One more focused on magic, but yes.”
“Huh. Didn’t hear about the magic bit.”
“I’d still be happy to hear what you think.”
Rosa continued to tap the hot metal as she spoke. “I don’t mean to sound self serving, but formal education can be a bit of a bust for some professions.”
Twilight caught on quickly. “Traditionally, safety has been a large concern for teaching trades like smithing. It’s part of the reason why some trades have never been adopted by schools.”
“And it never will be, but that’s fine,” she blurted. “But it’s ridiculous that school is the only avenue considered. Apprenticeships are rare enough in Equestria.”
“I think I know of a few ponies in Ponyville in apprenticeships.” The first that came to mind was Bon Bon taking on Twist as an apprentice confectioner.
“Well... In the minotaur capital of Crete, they started a program just to match apprentices with masters. That was two hundred years ago. Now, it spans their entire country. Meanwhile in Equestria, there’s nothing. Word of mouth and searching are the only way apprentices find somepony willing to take them on. The ponies you know, they know each other, right?”
“Yeah,” Twilight admitted. She made a mental note to look into other countries’ education arrangements when she had time.
“To top it all off, there’s no place which really teaches how to integrate magic jobs not taught at school. Plus, I’d have to figure out how my magic fit in. When you can handle molten metal, things are a little different.”
Twilight found herself nodding, but stopped as she retook what Rosa said. “You can handle molten metal? Really?”
With a roll of her eyes, Rosa grabbed the glowing sword with a hoof. “Tada. Surprised you didn’t notice earlier.”
“I know dragons are capable of bathing in lava, but I’ve always presumed it was due to their scales.”
“Eh, something like that anyway.”
“Surely you’ve experimented.”
Rosa shrugged. “I’m not exactly in a rush to figure it out. If it’s something which is always ‘on’, it’s all good. But if it’s not, I hardly want to be swimming in lava when I figure it out.”
“You don’t even know that much?”
“You’re the expert on magic, you tell me what it is.”
“Hmm...” Twilight went silent for a minute. “Assuming your magic is the union of dragon and earth pony magic, it may be possible that your thaumatic field exists with both in some sort of synchronization. With the usual foci absent in your, the dragon magic may be, in essence, graffed to your skin by the earth pony magic.” She didn’t notice Rosa’s eyes glazing over. “The combination of the fields might result in a Quiche disruption though, rendering a natural equilibrium state impossible. So to be safe, I would lean towards it being a matter of concentration on the subconscious level. But–”
“Ah buh buh buh,” Rosa exclaimed, holding up her hoof in protest. “Seriously, Twi, not all of us know as much as magic as you do. Slow it down, dumb it down, and give me the short version.”
“I think it’s a matter of concentration, but it is governed by your subconscious instead of actively having to focus on it.” She shrugged. “I could be wrong, but I’d have to do some testing.”
“Well, Vert could probably help you there better than I could.”
“Who?”
“The colt who is late bringing breakfast along.”
Twilight cocked her head. “You sound annoyed.”
Rosa snorted and went back to hammering the unfinished sword. “When you were a filly, and running late when you were around the kitchens, why were you late?”
Twilight saw the point Rosa was trying to make. “Cookies and sweets.”
She nodded. “I’ll be right pissed if he’s spoiled his appetite.”
Five minutes later, the sound of a squeaky trolley gave way to a set of hooves. The trolley, almost comically overburdened, shook as it crossed the cobblestones, but every platter was still in place.
“Vert, you took your sweet time,” Rosa exclaimed. “You had better not have snuck any cookies.”
“I didn’t, honest!” a young voice protested. “Chef didn’t have it ready yet.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed, sounding unconvinced. “I might check with him later, but for now, be on your best behaviour. The princess is here.”
Vert’s head darted out from behind the cart, followed by the rest of him, and Twilight instantly understood what Rosa meant by “helping her better”. Vert was just like Rosa, only decisively more of a dragon. At a quick glance, he was a cloud-blue pegasus, but only if one’s eyes did not linger for more than a second. Vert’s face was more angular than a pony’s, and he had scales under his chin and neck, and around his startling draconic eyes. He had feathers along the leading edge of his wings, and a claw at the elbow, but no primaries or secondaries, just the leathery skin of a dragon’s wing. His forehooves were decidedly equine, with a set of very stubby claws, but his rear legs were built after a dragon.
But what Twilight missed in her analysis was Vert’s smile fading into a scowl. He huffed. “Take a picture, it will last longer.”
“Vertiginous Vapour Brontide, what did I just say!” Rosa exclaimed.
“But she was staring at me!” he protested.
Twilight spoke up before Rosa could respond. “I was Rosa, and I’m sorry for staring at you, Vert. I’ve never met a pony like you, but you look very similar to Spike.”
“Spike?” Vert scrunched his muzzle, then brightened. “Is he a dragon?”
“Why yes. I hatched him from his egg, and he’s lived with me for years. He’s a little brother to me.”
“That’s so cool!” he exclaimed, his annoyance already forgotten. “I’ve never met a dragon before. Is he here in Canterlot?”
She couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “No, Spike’s in Ponyville right now, but he comes to Canterlot frequently enough. He’d probably be happy to meet with you.”
“Yes!” he crowed. “What’s Spike like? Does he like comic books? Oh! Maybe I could make him something.”
“Vert,” Rosa chastised, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her voice.
But he didn’t hear her. “Yeah, I could probably make him something. But what to make?” Vert’s train of thought was derailed when Rosa blew a tongue of flame across his snout. He yelped and rubbed the side of his leg across his nose. “Why?”
She chuckled. “You’re thinking aloud again.”
He blushed. “Oh.”
“I'd be happy to answer your questions, Vert,” Twilight said, “but why don’t we don’t we do it over breakfast. I’m sure we all must be a little hungry.” She wandered over to the cart, and lifted one of the lids to reveal several slices of pound cake with gems baked into them. “Gemloaf?” She and Rosa looked at Vert.
He squirmed under their gazes; one amused, the other annoyed. “I haven’t eaten any of it. They just gave it to me.”
She set the lid back down. “Well, why don’t we save that for dessert then.” Underneath the next platter were much more appropriate omelettes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Half an hour later, Twilight and Rosa sat beneath one of the trees, watching Vert work enthusiastically at the forge making nails. The task would familiarize him with the forge, and make him realize that the bulk of smithing wasn’t crafting fancy gadgets and gizmos, but basic work and repairs. Nails were all but guaranteed to sell or have a use somewhere, even with them being mass produced.
Rosa patted her stomach. “Shame you can’t eat gemloaf. That was awfully good.”
“And here I thought you didn’t want Vert to have any sweets. Come to think of it, you’re probably the one who ordered some.”
“Guilty.” She sighed. “It just feels wrong not cutting Vert a little slack, he’s been through a lot for someone his age.”
They were silent. Across the clearing a Lunar guard emerged from the treeline, evidently looking for Twilight the way he brightened when he saw her. She signaled or him to wait. “Vert’s an orphan, isn’t he?” It was a bit of a rhetorical question. What Rosa had said, and something else Twilight couldn’t quite put her hoof on, tipped her off.
“Yeah,” Rosa said plainly. “He was bounced around from orphanage to orphanage till he ended up with nowhere left to go but a spartan room in the castle. It wasn’t behavioral problems, but the fact there’s nowhere really designed for somepony like him. The princesses caught wind and try to right the wrongs, but by then he had closed up to everypony. I was Luna’s last option, and as luck would have it, it worked.”
Twilight looked at Vert in a newfound light. “You adopted him? That’s–”
“I didn’t,” she interrupted, “and that’s the problem. I’m no social worker, or some motherly saint. I’m a long ways from being ready to have kids, but Luna told me I was the last pony who might be able to draw him out of his shell. She said it was because I was like him, but all I knew how to do was make him my apprentice. I’m scared for when that’s not enough.”
The guard on the other side of the clearing gestured for Twilight to finish up. She stood, levitating her saddlebags over. “Rosa, while I don’t claim to be a physiatrist, I’ve read a lot of books on the subject. All of them make one thing very clear though: no two ponies are the same, and the answer is often different for every situation. Whatever you’ve done, it’s obviously working, and that means everything. Heck, you just said that you were the last option they had. What does it say when you’ve managed where everypony else failed him?”
“It means it’s just a matter of time before I mess up,” Rosa said glumly.
“Then you mess up,” she answered. “So what. You mess up, and you get over it together so you don’t mess up again. Maybe you’re too close to Vert to see it, but I think he respects you far more than you realize. I’m sure being like him might have helped at first, but it’s who you are that w0uld have made the difference. And if he’s really opened up to you, it would take a lot more than a mistake to ruin what you two have.”
Rosa was silent, then chuckled slowly. “Figured you were made a princess for something after all. Thanks, Twilight.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
That got another laugh out of the mare. “Hey Vert,” she shouted, “come say goodbye to Twilight!”
“She’s leaving?” he asked, a hint of panic colouring his voice as he ran over.
“Sorry Vert,” Twilight said, “but I suspect the guard needs me for something.”
“But I’m not finished yet.”
The two mares shared a look. “Finished what?” Twilight asked.
“And weren’t you supposed to be working on nails?” Rosa asked.
“Well, I made a mistake... I bent one of the nails, and I was trying to... But it gave me a really cool idea! I wanted to give it to Princess Twilight.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you Vert,” Twilight said, to which he blushed, “but why don’t I stop by tomorrow and you can give it to me then. That way, it gives you some extra time to work on it.”
He brightened, his ears twitching happily. “Ok. Bye Princess!” Then he darted back over to the anvil. Rosa just dipped her head, then followed his lead, albeit at a normal pace.
Twilight trotted over the guard, who bowed halfway. “Princess,” he said, “It is imperative you come with me at once.”
“Why, what’s the matter.”
He broke into a trot, and she quickly fell into step. “A guard has stolen from the crown,” he explained. “Princess Luna requests your presence in dealing with the matter.”
Hearing that Thistle Down had been arrested for theft did not sit well with Twilight. It was hard to imagine the cheerful bat pony from her childhood willfully committing a crime. Not only that, but the severity was hinted at by the urgency of the guard which had come to fetch her. It was enough that Twilight had asked the guard where they were headed – a banquet hall – and teleported them there.
While the disoriented guard stumbled over to stand with his comrades lined up against the wall, Twilight looked around. On her chair at the head table, Luna looked down upon the bat pony in chains before her. Twilight’s heart froze in her throat as she recognized him as Thistle Down.
The years had been kind to Thistle Down, even with his legs joined by manacles and chains, his wings bound, and a heavy collar around his neck. The once gangly colt had grown into a lean stallion, more appropriately filling out his frame. However, his messy grey mane, golden brown eyes, and his dark artichoke green coat were just as Twilight remembered it.
“You called for me, Luna?” Twilight said, breaking the silence which had dominated the room since she entered.
“Yes, I did,” she answered. “Last evening you told me you knew Private Thistle Down as a colt.”
“I did, but what is even going on here?”
“Thistle Down stands before us, having stolen from the crown for his own gains.” The declaration was sound and with no uncertainty.
“How can you be sure?” Twilight asked. “I have trouble believing Thistle would do something like this.”
“It does your character well to defend your friend,” Luna said, “but time changes ponies. You’ve had little contact with him, correct?”
“I saw him from time to time in passing, but not since I moved to Ponyville.” After she said it, Twilight realized the sour taste it left in her mouth. She had drifted away from a friend, even if he hadn’t been as close a friend as Moondancer. Part of her even wondered if this could have been prevented had she given him more heed.
“Time, circumstances, cause and reasoning can all change overnight. But what of years?” Luna asked. “Regardless, there is little doubt he was responsible. Among other things, the tome was recovered from his possessions.” She laid a hoof on a bag next to her, which Twilight recognized with a start as one of the bags the Archive Guard used for transporting dangerous texts.
She could hardly believe it. “Thistle, did you really?”
“I would ask you to hold your tongue for the moment, Twilight,” Luna commanded.
“But...” Twilight wilted at the stern look Luna leveled her way. The pleading glance Thistle shot her way did nothing to help.
“While theft is an issue which might usually result in a fine and disciplinary action if it was unintended, this is a different scenario. For the culprit to be one of my guard is something I will not stand for. That Thistle Down stole from a royal is unforgivable.” Every word Luna spoke carried her full condemnation.
Thistle’s ears lay flat against his head, and his wings shifted anxiously. “Princess, I never–”
“Be silent!” Luna shouted. “There is testimony against you, and you confessed.”
“But it was–”
Again Luna cut him off, but the words echoed in Twilight’s mind. But it was... Did that mean Thistle had stolen something? Though it had been long since they had spoken, she couldn’t imagine him stooping to such a level. Perhaps his joining of the Lunar guard had been a way for him to gain access to the archives? With a shake of her head, Twilight banished the thoughts before they dominated her mind. It wouldn’t do to fall into that trap. She jerked upright as she realized Luna was speaking to her.
“Pardon?”
“I had you called here, Twilight,” Luna said, “because it is against you the crime was committed.”
Twilight looked in shock at Thistle Down who seemed to shrink as he weakly shook his head. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“You see, the ancient tome Thistle Down stole was one formly in your possession. The spells inside could have easily been twisted and turned against the good of Equestria.”
There were several books in her possession that Twilight could think of which could fit the description. Since her castle had grown, it was reasonable enough to hold onto more dangerous materials, albeit not for public viewing. “Which one?”
“A Filly’s First Guide to Telekinesis, Second Edition.”
Her thoughts screeched to a halt. “...What?” There had been many answers she could have accepted, but that had not been one of them. She would have even accepted Rola’s Guide to Everfree Cooking, simply due to the dangers of improperly brewing briarbrew berries. But it wasn’t even that.
“A Filly’s First Guide to Telekinesis,” Luna repeated. “You even told me he stole the book from you over supper yesterday.”
The whole picture Twilight had been building in her mind collapsed. A vein in Twilight’s temple throbbed as her anger grew. “Luna...” she growled. “Are you telling me that you arrested Thistle because of the book he took from me when he was a colt?"
“Yes.” Luna replied simply.
“First off, I wasn’t a princess then; I was a filly.” The volume behind her words increased as she spoke. “Secondly, he was only trying to get me to play with him and his friends! And finally...” she paused to take a deep breath. “It’s a foal’s magic book!” she roared, her wings quivering upright with anger.
Through it all, Luna’s expression remained unchanged. Then a guard snickered and froze as all eyes in the room fell on him. Everything came undone in an instant.
“Everypony for themselves!” Luna shouted. She disappeared in a flash of teleportation and a trill of laughter.
In the seconds before Twilight could react, the guards stormed from the room like children giddily fleeing their parents before bathtime. Most went for the doors, some the windows, and a few followed Luna’s example. Laughter echoed as Twilight let fall her half formed telekinetic grip without a target. She slumped to the floor, rubbing the bridge of her muzzle with a hoof. It had all been a prank, one very successful prank.
“Dammit Luna,” she muttered. She should have known, especially after Rainbow and Pinkie roped her in to pull a prank on Luna last month.
“Soooo...” Thistle said, breaking the silence. “A little help.” He offered up his chained forelegs hopefully.
“I’m guessing you didn’t have any part in this?” Twilight asked as she pulled away the manacles.
He rubbed his fetlocks when his hooves were free. “Unless you count me being chained up as part of it. I’m guessing this is their version of an initiation.”
“So the Lunar Guard does this with every recruit they get?”
“Hey, you were the one who told Luna about it,” he countered.
“You have me there.”
He grinned and offered a hoof. “Still, it’s nice to see you again, Twilight.”
Her frown quirked into a smile. “Likewise.”
“Err... One moment.” He ran over to where Luna had been sitting, and fished the book out of the archive bag.. “Princess Luna was right about one thing, I never did give back the book.”
Twilight accepted her old book, only to pause as she noted its condition. Pages were dog eared, there were a few stains along the edge of the book, and the cover looked heavily worn. None of the books she still had from her childhood looked anywhere near bad. “What happened to it?”
“My sisters happened.”
She cocked her head; Thistle’s sister, Glamour Steel, was a batpony like him. And it was sister, nevermind the plural. “But isn’t your sister–”
“Oh right,” he cut in, “you haven’t met them. Well, dad remarried... Must have been a year after you became Celestia’s student. There’s me and my sister, but now my step-brother, two more sisters, three little unicorns and another batpony filly as well.”
The timeline made sense. There had been fewer and fewer afternoons at the playground as she entered magical kindergarten. Twilight and Thistle Down still saw each other around Canterlot, but more in passing than long enough for anything more than a brief conversation. Still, she was delighted to hear Row Moon, Thistle’s father, had found somepony. His wife had died in an accident when Thistle was just a yearling. “So what’s it like being a big brother? You always used to complain about being the youngest in the family.”
He chuckled. “I suppose I did. It’s kinda fun, but a lot of work. Anytime I come home from the guard, the youngest are asking for rides. It’s not getting any easier as they grow.”
Twilight put a hoof over her mouth and giggled. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright.”
“Yeah.” He sighed and scuffed his hoof along the marble floor. “It’s been nice seeing you, but I’m supposed to report to the captain before my shift this afternoon.”
“Oh, ok.” she said sullenly. Suddenly, a memory forced its way to her mind’s eye, of the time she had turned down the invitation to Moondancer’s party, forgoing the opportunity for something she thought was more important with little thought for Moondancer. “Thistle, wait!”
He stopped and turned. “Yes?”
“I was planning on visiting Donut Joe’s this morning. Would you like to come with me?”
“I’m supposed to be working.”
“Oh. And here I thought the captain wouldn’t like to hear me going out into the city without a guard.” She sighed dramatically, and let her ears droop. “Oh, well...”
Thistle stared at her, then shook his head incredulously. “Laying it on a little thick there.”
“A bit.” That was the point.
“My boss really isn’t going to be happy.”
“I can handle any complaints. Besides, I’m technically your boss’s boss. Well, one of them anyway.”
He started to reply, froze, then chuckled. “I suppose you are.”
“Soooo...” Twilight intoned hopefully.
“Fine, you win.”
→ ↔ ←
Donut Joe’s could easily have been frozen in time for how much it had changed over the years. Joe readily admitted to being a fan for the classics, and modelled his cafe after decor from years past. It had always been Twilight and her family’s favourite place to go for a treat in Canterlot. A few bits would get you a pleasant cup of coffee and a remarkably tasty donut. He had even turned down an offer to supply the castle’s banquets with some of his pastries because it would have meant changing how he ran his shop.
The owner himself was behind the counter, icing a few donuts which had come straight from the fryer. He glanced up as the bell over the door rang. “Morning Twilight,” Donut Joe called. “What is it today? A break from work?”
“Something like that.” She turned to Thistle. “You ever been here before?”
Thistle shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”
“A half dozen donuts and two glasses of chocolate milk, Joe!”
“The good stuff?” Joe called over his shoulder.
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll be over in a minute with it.”
“Still have a sweet tooth, I see,” Thistle commented.
“Yeah, and it hasn’t been any easier to avoid the stuff since I became a Princess.” Catering at royal events always seemed to be primarily focused on sweets. Just once, she would like to see a nice mix of salads.
“Also, what did he mean by the ‘good stuff'?” he asked as he followed Twilight to the booth in the back corner. It would give them as much privacy as the place could afford.
She set her bags on the floor, and sat down opposite Thistle with a grin. “Discord’s chocolate milk.” He suddenly looked very wary. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“It’s not going to turn me into something is it?”
Twilight giggled. “I wouldn’t put it past him, but this is one of Discord’s few level ventures. He even agreed to follow some rules for selling it if it meant he could.”
Donut Joe trotted from behind the counter, levitating a tray behind him. “Got you two jelly filled, two chocolate dipped, and two apple fritters,” he said, putting down the plate. “And here is Discord’s chocolate milk.” Each of the mugs were near frosted.
“Thanks Joe.”
He nodded. “Call me if you need anything.” He retreated to the counter to take care of a couple of ponies who had just came in.
The mug of chocolate milk bubbled and steamed ominously. Neither did anything to reassure Thistle. He stared at the liquid with unease. “Are you really sure this is safe to drink?”
“Yes, Thistle,” Twilight deadpanned. “Just try it already.”
He took the mug in his hooves, and brought it to his mouth. It wasn’t the flavour of chocolate milk which greeted him, but strawberry kiwi. “What the heck?”
She laughed. “You thought Discord wouldn’t do something to it?”
He sniffed the drink, then took another sip: hot chocolate. “So the flavour changes every time?”
“Yup. A glass will never repeat the same flavour either, so if you taste something you like, keep drinking.”
“Is that why you call it the good stuff?”
“No, that’s what Discord calls it.”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. And trust me, determining if he could actually name it that was an absolute nightmare of legal paperwork.”
Thinking, Thistle took another sip. Blueberries. “So, you could you say it was rather... Chaotic.”
Twilight blinked, raised a hoof, opened her mouth, and held the pose for a second. Then she let her head fall on the table with a groan. “Of course.” She raised her head enough to let it drop again. “Of. Freakin’. Course.”
“Just because he’s reformed doesn’t mean he isn’t still the god of chaos.”
The line sounded rehearsed. “Who’d you hear that from?”
“About half the officers in training and personal experience. Discord’s idea of helping out with training was reversing gravity in a room at random and replacing the ceiling with ten hooves worth of jello.”
“How is that even remotely related to training?” Twilight asked.
“Quick thinking,” Thistle deadpanned.
“Well... He’s not wrong.”
A disgruntled noise was all the acknowledgement she received
There was something satisfying in the shared discontent. Despite his reformation, Discord was exhausting to keep up with at times. She lifted her mug in preparation for a sip. “Discord isn’t one to–” She froze in shock at the mismatched yellow eyes staring back at her from the mug, and remained frozen as Discord extracted himself from the mug.
“And here I thought it was rude to talk about people behind their back,” he said, wringing the chocolate milk from the tip of his tail. “For shame, Princess. For, shame.”
Twilight place a hoof on her chest to calm her racing heart. “Discord, what are you even doing here?”
He pointed up at his ears, both of which were enveloped in flames.
She groaned. “I mean, how did you find us?”
“Using my patented tracker of course!” he declared, whipping out a small box covered in flashing lights and several tangled wires.
“How though?”
“Are you asking me how it works?”
“Yes, I– No. No, I am not.” Twilight quickly amended. Discord was to Pinkie Pie, what Pinkie Pie was to science. Her laboratory couldn’t withstand another attempt to understand Discord, let alone his magic.
Thistle tapped him on the shoulder. “Pardon me, Discord?”
Discord turned. “Oh? Don’t I know you from somewhere?” With a snap of his fingers, a magnifying glass appeared. It levitated in the air for a moment, before discord’s eyes grew a set of arms which grabbed the handle, followed by a set of wings. The eyes flew around a nervously shifting Thistle, examining him closely, before popping back into place at the sound of recognition. “Oh yes, I remember you, you’re that trainee who actually managed to avoid the jello.”
“No, you dunked me right after,” Thistle shot back.
“Trust me, I was doing you a favour.”
“How? I was scrubbing jello out for hours!”
Discord prodded his muzzle with a finger. “Exactly. How would your other batty friends felt if you were the only one who didn’t?” He turned back to Twilight. “Anywho, I must be off. Things too due: see two ponies.” With another snap of his fingers, he shrunk and teleported atop Twilight’s head. With a graceful leap, he dived into Twilight’s chocolate milk. Almost as an afterthought, an envelope appeared on the table with a pop.
Twilight sighed, and placed her hoof against her forehead. She knew that the envelope was the real reason Discord had stopped by. “Thank you, Discord,” she said, sarcastically. She gathered up the envelope and dropped it into saddlebags. Neither of them noticed the mare who chose that moment to pay their bill and depart. Nor how she had been watching the pair from the corner of her eye.
“What was that?” Thistle asked.
“I don’t know, and honestly I don’t really care at the moment. Discord will be Discord. That aside, what was that he was saying about avoiding the jello?”
“That’s thanks to Milly, Strat and Dew.”
“Who?”
“My younger unicorn siblings,” Thistle explained. “They’re all trying to learn new spells, but they’ve been making a mess of the house. We’ve gotten pretty good at handling the worst of it, so Discord’s stuff seems only a little worse.”
“And how are they doing now?”
“Burning the curtains.”
“I... Pardon?”
“They managed to turn the barbecue lighter into some sort of fire breathing... Thing, before I left for work. The day before that, they managed to tear a hole in the water pipe.”
An idea struck Twilight, one which would work well with her previous plans. It would mean a bit more work for her, but she was fairly confident she would enjoy it. She brought up the old battered magic book from her bags, and pushed it across the table to Thistle. “Here.”
Thistle took it with some confusion. “Why are you giving it back?”
“Because I want you to have it.” She held up a hoof, stalling the coming protests. “It’s obvious it has been through a lot in your family, and it probably means more to you than it ever did to me.”
“Err... Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’d also like to give your siblings some magic lessons.” Twilight knew that this was where the protests would really begin.
“That’s really not necessary, Twilight.” Thistle said. “You’re a princess and you’re probably are plenty busy anyway.”
“And as a princess of Equestria, it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of my subjects. That includes foals miscasting spells and hurting themselves when I have the capacity and time to teach them.”
“It’s not that bad...”
“‘Burning the curtains’, was it?”
Thistle sighed and hung his head. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”
“Know when to fold,” Joe commented, ambling over. Thistle snorted. “Do either of you want anything more? Saw that little stunt Discord pulled, so I’d be happy to put it on his tab.”
Twilight caught herself before she could answer no. “Actually, could you box up these ones,” she said gesturing to the untouched donuts, “and another couple dozen donuts to go.”
“Twilight, you really don’t have...” he trailed off at the look Joe gave him. He sighed resignedly. “Right.”
→ ↔ ←
The box of over two dozen donuts was not nearly as light as Twilight had expected, but exactly as ungainly, so it was with some gratitude that she accepted Thistle’s offer to carry them. She made a note of the way he balanced it on his back with half unfurled wings; she would have to give it a try next time she picked up some books.
“So,” Twilight started, “do you still live down nearby the park?”
Thistle laughed, “That place, no; we’d be tighter than peas in a pod there. There’s already eleven of us. No, Mom and Dad found someplace a little larger. It’s by the Bloomfield Greenhouses.”
“I have to admit, I’m not sure I could handle having eight siblings. It was always busy enough around the house with just myself and Shining.”
Thistle shrugged, and stumbled as he nearly lost the box of donuts. He smiled sheepishly before replying. “It’s all what you get used to I guess. I mean, yeah, finding some quiet time can be hard, but there’s always something going on. It’s kind of exciting.”
She hummed in thought. “You know, I’m sure there’s–”
“Yes, I’m sure there’s a book somewhere on it too,” he cut in.
“What? I– It wasn’t...” Twilight stammered till she noticed the cheeky grin Thistle wore. She harrumphed. “You know, if it wasn’t for the donuts, I’d find a nice fountain to throw you in.”
“Maybe all the guards should start carrying around a box of donuts then. It’s apparently the only thing which can stave off an alicorn’s wrath.”
She couldn’t help the giggle. “Perhaps I’ll have to ban donuts then.”
He gasped in mock horror. “You wouldn’t! How would we ever protect ourselves against your tyranny!”
“Anyway,” she said, smiling, “I was going to say there’s probably some similarities between families which correlate in the size of the family and size–”
“An experiment was my second guess,” Thistle interrupted again.
Twilight froze, letting him get a few steps ahead, then let a throaty growl bubble up and caught up to him. “Give me the donuts,” she demanded.
“Why?” His voice was so irritatingly full of innocence.
“Because you are just asking for a date with fountain.” She moved in closer, and he shied away. “And I’m sure I can find a book on the matter. Or perhaps I could conduct an experiment on how many times a bat pony has to be dunked to learn some respect for the scientific process.”
“I don’t think that’s really necessary.”
“And why is that–” Twilight’s breath left her as a shoulder drove itself into her side. The world inverted itself again and again as she went tumbling in a mess of limbs. When she stopped she found herself looking into the face of a pale fuchsia mare.
“Oh my goodness!” the mare cried, pulling herself up. With the moment and space, Twilight could see she was young, just barely old enough to be called a mare. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness! Princess Twi– I... I didn’t mean... It wasn’t– Too...” She rambled, near close to tears.
Thistle gave the mare a none too friendly tug on the tail, giving Twilight the room she needed to get her legs under her and rise, and glowered at the mare. “What in the world were you doing!” he demanded.
“I was just–” she fumbled on the ground, casting about for something. “It’s just...”
Twilight took a moment to look over the mare. Besides her pale fuchsia coat, her mane was a slate grey, and on it the blue cap of the Equestrian Postal Service. The blue vest with white trim gave her away as a courier, as did the shoes on each hoof. She was fervently looking for something which had fallen under the watchful gaze of Thistle. Twilight caught his eye, and shook her head slightly. The last thing the mare looked like she needed was a harsh reprimand.
“Pardon me,” Twilight said, placing her hoof on the mare’s shoulder.
The mare practically jumped at the contact. “Princess! I’m so sorry–”
“Please, just call me Twilight.”
“But I–”
“It was an accident,” Twilight interrupted again. “You don’t have anything to worry about.” She noticed the parcel on the ground, the plain brown paper wrapping slightly scuffed, but no worse for the wear. “Are you looking for this?”
For a moment, the courier forgot her apprehension and worry. She boldly snatched the parcel from the air, and practically embraced it. “Oh thank goodness!” she cried. “I thought I lost it.”
The transformation took Twilight by surprise. “Important, I take it?” she asked, struggling not to smile.
“You have no idea, Twilight. This is a priority parcel with platinum level insurance. If I were to lose or damage it, I...” As if a switch were thrown, the mare suddenly remembered who she was talking to. “Oh, I– Um... My name is Pepper, princess.”
“Well Pepper, just be a little more careful next time you're delivering. Nothing is so important to risk injuring yourself. It was nice to meet you, though.” She offered a hoof.
Pepper hesitated, clearly fighting a battle between deciding bowing and taking Twilight’s hoof, before she decided on the later. But as she brought up her own hoof, her eyes widened at the sight of the ruined shoe adorning it. Whether it had been too much wear on something old, or if it had caught an edge, the rubber sole was practically shorn from the shoe, and the laces had snapped.
Pepper gasped in horror. “Oh no, no, no, no! My boss is going to kill me!”
The streets of Canterlot were both older than those of other cities and constructed differently. Though the city council tried to keep atop the repairs, maintenance was a never ending job. Odd cobblestones, gaps in mortar, or missing stones were somewhat of a rarity, but common enough that they were expected. Couriers, who spent much of their time running through the city streets, wore rubber soled and faux-leather shoes to protect their hooves from such risks. With the shoe broken, Pepper couldn’t easily run with just three, undoubtedly not supposed to do her route without a set for safety reasons, and would have to return to the office to fit a new set. The priority delivery would be late and Pepper responsible.
Or that would have been the case if not for a spell Twilight had learned in her third year as Celestia’s student. Within a few moments, the rubber had reattached itself, and the broken lace was pieced back together. Twilight
Pepper’s eyes went wide as she turned her hoof this way and that, examining the repair, then she threw her forelegs around Twilight. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Ack! I–” Twilight quickly shifted her stance. Pepper wasn’t as light as she appeared. “It’s nothing. Just be a little more cautious in the future, alright?”
Pepper released the hug, and gave a nod. “Right. Thank you Princess.” She hesitated, once again, clearly fighting the temptation to bow.
She sighed affably. “Priority delivery, right?”
“Oh. Right.” Pepper took off at a dead sprint, letting up only to look back and wave.
Behind Twilight, Thistle snorted.
“What?” Twilight asked.
“I wished you had given me a little time to question her.”
“Oh, don’t give me that. It was a...” There was a familiar weight missing from her haunches: her bags were gone. “Thistle!” She spun in a half circle. “Where–” She stopped when she saw a yellow pegasus holding her saddlebags, waiting for the opportunity.
The mare set them down in front of Twilight. “I missed what happened,” she said, “but I figured these were yours.”
“The cutie mark?” Twilight asked. Like many ponies she had her cutie mark embroidered on the flap of the saddlebags.
She nodded. “The cutie mark.”
“Sorry about the trouble, but thank you for returning them.”
The mare bobbed her head. “Happy to help.”
With that, the few onlookers started to disperse, content that there was no spectacle to be had. A few ponies did dip their head in greeting as the passed, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary.
“See Thistle?” Twilight said. “All just an accident.”
“Right...” he intoned skeptically.
Something didn’t feel right. “What was with the attitude, Thistle? Pepper was downright apologetic.”
“I’m a guard, so it’s my job to protect you,” he explained sourly. “I should have seen her coming, and it’s just a little too convenient for her to have tripped up right as you passed.” Oh, so it was like that. “The captain would be furious if he found out what–”
“No.”
The simple refusal caught him off guard. “I–”
“No,” Twilight repeated. “You do not get to act like that.” She had seen several ponies, Shining Armour included, fall into the mindset just after joining the guard.
“But it’s my job.”
“And a job doesn’t make the pony. Sure, for some ponies the guard is their home, but even then you shouldn’t let it become your everything.”
“The drill sergeants sure think otherwise.”
“You know they do it mostly for show, right? To make ponies really think about what they are signing up for.” She paused. “Actually, come to think of it, I was surprised to hear that you joined the guard. You never really struck me as the type.”
The way he shied away was proof enough she had hit the nail on the head. “It isn’t like that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I... Could we please drop it?”
“I’m only asking because I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. It’s just...” The reason never came.
“Why did you join the guard, Thistle?” She asked the question in a soft voice.
The noise of the street was the only sound which passed between them for a long ten seconds. He sighed. “I think... My mom. I never really knew her besides fragments and pieces, but I knew she was in the guard. Lieutenant Lucet Tethys ..” He fell quiet, as if he didn’t want to give voice to what they both knew. “I guess I’m looking for a way to know her.”
“And do you really want to be in the guard?”
The laugh was short and mirthless. “I’m still figuring that out.”
“But for right now... You’re not a guard, Thistle, just my friend. And you will be even when you put your helmet on. Just don’t lose yourself to some strict act, even when you have to deal with couriers bumping into me. Besides,” she said, lightening, “you can hardly pull off the big grumpy guard that well.” She puffed up her chest, and did a poor imitation of the stony face guard.
Thistle sighed one last time, but with a smile. “Alright. You can cut that out now, I get it.”
She pulled a face as she let the expression go. “I honestly have no idea how you manage that.”
“Bit of training, but it’d be harder for you anyway. You’ve always worn your emotions on your sleeve.”
The two continued to chat as they made their way to Thistle’s place, on lighter topics, unaware of one small change. If either of them had bothered to check Twilight’s bags, they would have found her education reform proposal and Discord’s letter missing. Both had been quickly slipped out when Pepper had Twilight’s full attention.
Magic, for Twilight, had always been a subject near and dear to her heart. While it was her talent, a talent did not necessarily make it one’s passion. But for her, it was. Magic was something she pursued with every fibre of her being. There was always something to learn, or some new height to reach. And as she had grown from a filly into a mare, and reached the edge of known knowledge, she had discovered that you could forge forth and advanced the field one step at a time. Yet, even at its extremes, the true core of magic had its root in the fundamental basics. Twilight found herself reminiscing as she watched Thistle’s siblings struggle with the same mistakes she had made when she was their age.
Stratus, Dew Drop and Mill Prance – from eldest to youngest – were the trio of unicorn foals Thistle had spoke of. Their individual issues were unique, despite their similar age and closeness. When they heard Princess Twilight Sparkle would be giving them magic lesson, they all reacted the same way: enthusiastically. At first they had been like babbling brooks of excitement, but as time passed, they focused on their magic.
For Stratus, the cream-white filly with a fluffy blue mane, it had been a matter of power. She was timid; nervous about putting power into a spell. Her technique was satisfactory, and her concentration almost perfect, but without power, only the most masterful mages could hope to hold together a spell and not let it decay into a lesser state. Stratus’s hesitance was enough that Twilight suspected there was something more to the aversion. Perhaps there had been an accident which she had yet to mentally overcome. If it was, nopony else might know about it and Stratus could be afraid or embarrassed to volunteer anything.
Mill Prance, or Milly as they called her, suffered in the area Stratus excelled most in: concentration and maintaining focus. Milly’s spells were almost perfect... at first. Unaware, her spells would always destabilize. She got too caught up in watching what she did to focus on what she was doing. It wasn’t a particularly rare problem for a young unicorn to have, especially as the youngest of the three, and it was a problem that was simple enough to fix. With a few gentle reminders now and again, Milly’s concentration greatly improved. Or, at least, the same spell was a whole lot less interesting the twentieth time.
And then there was Dew Drop.
Twilight’s shield was quick to catch the bolt of magic before it could blast the picture frame. She sighed, and turned back to Dew. The last thing the family needed was property damage at her encouragement.
“Do you know what went wrong, Dew?” Twilight asked.
He cocked his head. “I think...” He held the position for a second, before shrugging. “I got nothing.” The colt was a pale shade of blue, certainly not white or grey, but pale all the same.
Twilight suppressed a sigh. “Then what did you feel when you lost control of the spell?” She knew exactly what went wrong, but he needed to fully understand before he could correct it properly.
“Well, it felt like it was going to drop it. So I tried to fix it like you told me...”
The spell Twilight had them practicing was telekinesis: one of the first spells most any unicorns learn. All three of them had indignantly protested that they knew how, even Stratus, but Twilight wasn’t looking for them to lift a book, or a small rock. Practice items for foals just starting out had one thing in common: they were rigid and light. So naturally, Twilight had gone for the exact opposite by selecting something that was hard to lift and relatively dense: water. In theory, it would also be difficult for them to cause unintended damage, though Dew was trying his best to turn that idea on its head.
Water was a fluid, and to levitate a fluid, a telekinetic field had to be consistent. Focusing on a couple points, like a unicorn could with something solid, would only cause the water to fall to the floor. The trio had quickly learned how difficult it was mere seconds after trying it for the first time. Each of them had had varying levels of success.
“I told you to fix it by focusing on maintaining an even field,” Twilight explained, “not by ramping up the power. You see, the telekinetic field is a highly reactive–” It was an abrupt realization which stopped her: her audience wouldn’t understand a technical explanation.
“Neeerrd,” Thistle hummed, picking up on the change. He had busied himself by helping his youngest sister, Cinder, build a tower from soft pastel coloured blocks while Twilight gave the trio the lesson. She was an adorable thing, just barely old enough to walk with coordination.
Without even looking, Twilight drew up a ball of water and propelled it towards him. A strangled cry and Cinder’s delighted giggle let Twilight know she had been right on the mark. “Picture a seesaw. If you want to balance it, you put identical weights on either end. Similarly, a magical field should also be balanced. Now, if the seesaw has weights on either end which aren’t identical, it will lean one way or the other.” She paused briefly to let him think it over. “There are two ways to balance it. You can either add more weight to the lighter end, or take off weight from the heavier end. But keep in mind, if you add too much weight, the seesaw will break.” She didn’t want to give him the answer in its entirety, so she waited for him to connect the dots.
She could just see the moment when the realization struck. “So, I’m only putting weight on?”
“If we’re still referring to the analogy, yes,” she confirmed. “Maintaining an equal field isn’t just about strengthening weak points, but also relaxing points which are too strong . If you only focus on increasing power, you’re going to lose control. And control always comes before power. Always. Many of the most complex spells that you can find are so complex, not because you need a huge amount of power, but because they require control beyond what many unicorns are capable of.”
Dew turned thoughtful, even humming idly to himself.
“Princess?” Stratus asked, while her brother was distracted.
She turned. “Yes, Stratus?”
“So you’re really good with magic and everything, right?”
“Yes, but I still feel anypony can accomplish what I can with enough practice.”
“I don’t think that is what she means,” Row Moon said, smiling fondly. He sat on the couch alongside his wife, and Thistle’s mother-in-law, Willow. The navy blue stallion had aged since Twilight had last saw him. What once was a jet black mane had started to grey, but it was still more pepper than salt. Other than that, he had grown a little leaner, but still Thistle’s stature. The two were obviously related at a glance.
“Stratus, sweetie,” Willow said softly, “just ask her.” Willow was a grey-white mare with a pale green mane. She leaned against her husband’s shoulder, eyes half closed. That she looked exhausted and a little ruffled was understandable; she was very very pregnant with twins.
Stratus shuffled her hooves. “I mean, you must be really good at casting spells. Could you show us how it’s done?”
“Stratus...” Willow chided gently.
She blushed and ducked her head. “It sounds selfish though.” Her mother just raised an eyebrow. “Um, could you show us some tricks?”
Twilight chuckled, now understanding. “I’d be happy to show you where practice can lead you. Just give me a little space.”
The three foals quickly cleared a circle, eager to see Twilight at work, while Row Moon and Willow pulled themselves upright on the sofa. Thistle murmured something to Cinder, who quickly latched onto the top of his head so she could get a better view. Satisfied with her audience’s arrangement, Twilight lit her horn.
Practice, patience and study always paid off with magic, as the ceilings you could reach grew. The very first time Twilight had lifted a ball of water, it had all been splashes, dropped water, and a hole in a bedsheet when she had made the very same mistake Dew had. But with years of practice, she could do more.
So much more.
Twilight drew water from a bucket in a stream, leading it through the air until a smooth ring rotated about her. It was so very nearly flawless, but she wasn’t done there. Two smaller rings split off from the first, floating parallel to each other. Then, she split the rings apart. Carving water was even more difficult than simply lifting it in simple shapes, but she could manage something simple. Each of the three rings became sea serpents, which weaved and twisted about the others as they spun about her, before breaking free around the room. They danced about, forming figure eights, celtic knots and other winding shapes before she froze them dead in the air. To the watchers, they were statues, with barely even a fluctuation in Twilight’s field. After a few more seconds, they jumped into motion, twisting ever so tightly until became one. Then they surged backed into the bucket at a furious rate, not producing so much as a splash.
Twilight took several quick deep breaths as she finished. Though seemingly simple compared to more elaborate spectacles such as illusions, Twilight felt that using water would be the best way to get the point across considering they had just been using it themselves. What she wasn’t expecting was the flabbergasted looks of Thistle’s family. “Oh... I...”
With a yank on his ears, Cinder sent Thistle stumbling forward. He barely managed to stop himself from headbutting Twilight’s chest, but not from placing his forehead against it, letting Cinder meet Twilight’s eyes. “Again, again!” she cried, hugging Twilight’s muzzle with her short forelegs.
Row Moon came a second later, and pulled Cinder away by the scruff of her neck. She reached longingly for Twilight, whimpering longingly, before her hooves found the floor. Thistle hurriedly distanced himself, his ears burning.
“Something the matter, Thistle?” a voice asked teasingly from the hall. He blushed even brighter at the question.
“Ventum, I swear...” he growled.
The pink filly, more of a teenager, shrugged her shoulders. “Well, if that’s–”
“Ventum,” Willow cautioned her sternly.
She furrowed her brow and sighed. “Fine.” She grumbled audibly to herself as she continued down the hall and out of site.
Twilight cocked her head; feeling out of the loop. “Umm... Did something happen?”
“I– Yeah,” Thistle admitted. He ran a hoof through his mane. “I may have teased her when she brought her coltfriend over to meet us.”
“Turned right red like a cherry, she did,” Row added.
“As if you are any better,” Willow chimed in, accusatorily. “The pair of you had her right worked up.”
“I’ll make it up to her, mom, don’t worry,” Thistle said.
“You had best. You went too far this time.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m trying to get her a pair of tickets to the Coloratura concert coming up.”
A look of surprise crossed Willow’s face before she smiled. “She’ll forgive you for just about anything if you manage that.”
Though she could have spoken up about knowing Coloratura, Twilight felt that perhaps she had given enough. More charity after the magic lessons, donuts, and taking care of the trio’s latest problem might start to seem insulting. Maybe if Thistle couldn’t find tickets she would bring it up.
“Still, I think we are forgetting something,” Willow continued. She looked Twilight in the eye. “That was absolutely marvelous, Princess.”
A slight blush coloured Twilight’s cheeks; she had never been good at taking praise.
“Princess!” Cinder cried in agreement.
A bouncing wheat-gold blob suddenly blurred into Twilight’s view. “That was absolutely, incredibly awesome,” Milly shouted as she pranced around Twilight. The other two foals vocally agreed, and Twilight soon found herself in the center of the little circle as Stratus and Dew joined in with Milly’s enthusiastic display. Twilight shot Row and Willow a pleading glance that sent both of them into laughter.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Row Moon said, once he had finally calmed down. “Twilight has to leave in a moment, and I need to speak with her about your spell from yesterday.” The three begrudgingly stopped with disappointed murmurs to let their father speak.
The trio’s spell had turned out to be far worse than a wayward come-to-life spell like Twilight had expected. Instead of animating the worn barbecue lighter, they had summoned and bound a fire elemental to it instead. The difference was at least an order of magnitude more dangerous.
“What is it?” Twilight asked.
“You said to keep feeding it charcol...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that really all we can do?”
“Without being properly trained to banish it, there isn’t anything that wouldn’t be riskier.” Elementals were raw primordial beings, practically forces of nature. Even as an alicorn, Twilight wouldn’t stand a chance in a contest of raw strength without some deciding factor, like being bound to a lighter. Even then, it would be closer to a toss-up than she dared risk. To anger an elemental was to gamble with your life, while appeasement was usually the best option to placate them and keep them from burning anything valuable.
“Can’t you get rid of it?” Row asked.
“Here, not safely. Lady Rosa will be over as soon as I can send her –” she hoped, “– and she can bring it back to the castle where we can properly deal with it.” It was a gamble, and Rosa might not be thrilled about such and interruption, but nopony was better suited for the task. Being fireproof, even if partly, would certainly give her a leg up.
“Lady?” Willow exclaimed. “You never mentioned anything about that!”
“Oh... I –,” Twilight rubbed one leg against the other. “It’s not the most polite way of putting it, but Rosa... is not what ‘lady’ would suggest. She’d probably be more bothered if you treated like one, than if you didn’t”
“Still...”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Willow. Just as soon as I can find her, she can pop in, gather up the elemental and get it back to the castle. Besides, she probably won’t want to linger considering what she’s dealing with.”
→ ↔ ←
Unfortunately, Lady Rosa had not been in the first place Twilight checked – the forge – or the second, or the third. It took several sets of directions from three different ponies to find Rosa, and by that time, Twilight was late for her meeting with Blueblood. She made up some of the lost time at a gallop through the halls, even if it wasn’t the most regal way to travel. She slowed as she neared the last corner to where she and Blueblood were supposed to meet, and took a moment to straighten her mane and catch her breath. The last thing she needed was a snide comment about her looks from Blueblood. When her breathing was calm and easy, she stepped around the corner.
And found Blueblood not even a pace in front of her.
“You know,” he began, before Twilight could curse her timing, “I do understand wanting to look presentable, but it’s best to refrain from doing so if it is at the cost of being late. Being late is disrespectful to the other party rather than just embarrassing to yourself.”
It was telling that even though he had just started, he had already moved onto insults thinly veiled as advice. “Well, you have my apologies,” she answered, “but I was going to be late whether I stopped for a moment or not.”
“Doing what?” he asked. “Not lost in a book, I hope.”
It was all Twilight could manage to answer politely. “I had to speak with Lady Rosa. Three foals in the city managed to summon and bind a fire elemental to a lighter. I wasn’t about to risk transporting it to the castle when she was better suited for it than me.” Rosa had actually been delighted when Twilight requested her help, and Vert was all too eager to assist.
From Blueblood’s wide eyes, he obviously hadn’t been expecting that reason. He rocked his head slowly as he thought it over. “Well... Credit where credit is due; that is most definitely a good reason for being late. I trust you spoke to the foals as well?”
She nodded. “A quick magic lesson, otherwise, they’d probably summon another before the week was out.”
“Good, I approve,” he said. He ran a hoof through his mane. “Now seeing how we both are quite busy, perhaps it would be best to get straight to the point.”
“Oh? Oh!” Twilight exclaimed when she realized what he meant. “So are you finally going to tell me what you find wrong with my proposal?”
“Of course. You honored your end of the agreement, so I see no reason to deny you any further.”
“What about those few minutes?” she asked. “I thought you told me I had to wait.”
“Because,” he began, pointedly, “I predict by the time you actually let me get to the point, those few minutes will have already passed.”
Twilight winced . “Right, I’ll be quiet now.”
He didn’t start immediately, letting silence grow for a few more seconds. “The problem with your proposal is that... As far as I understand, the intent differs from the actual results it will produce.”
“And what would my intent be?”
“That is a question I hope you can answer. Making assumptions based on what other ponies tell you is a poor way to understand a pony.”
“No, please, tell me.” Twilight persited. “Because ever since I became a princess, I’ve been getting real tired of playing word games, ponies speaking for me, and being baited for specific answers.”
“Very well, but I’m sad to say, word games will probably remain a distinct part of being a princess. Or they will be until such a time where you no longer have the power and influence to make changes.”
Twilight just tapped her hoof in impatience, refusing to acknowledge what she knew to be true.
“You, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Blueblood said, pointing with a hoof, “decided to improve the current state of magic education within Equestria with an education reform.”
That was it? “That’s it?”
“Yes, why?”
“Honestly, I was expecting you to say more.”
Blueblood chuckled. “Perhaps you were thinking I’d confuse intent with what caused you to write it. You're not the kind of pony to design a bill with malice or ill-will as the root of its intent. You genuinely want to help ponies.”
There was one thing which stopped Twilight from taking the compliment with a smile, the “however” that just hovered at the edge of what he was saying. “But there is something more, isn’t there.”
He nodded. “It is a matter of experience, not being able to understand the effect your bill would have on ponies, and not fully grasping how to make your intent your reality. Those are qualities you sorely lack, qualities which would be ideal if you were trying to pursue this approach.”
Again, he returned to the near-insults to make his points. “What would you suggest then? I spent years as Celestia’s student, some in her school for gifted unicorns, many more in and around politics of Canterlot, and by this point I’ve travelled to many parts of Equestria and seen so much.”
“Being able to lead and able to govern are two very different things. As a pony, you are able to take charge, make intelligent decisions and resolve conflict. Those are all things which are great for a leader to have, yet what experience do you have governing?”
“During my lessons with Celestia, I–” Twilight bit back a scream of frustration as he waved a hoof to cut her off.
“Celestia is a fine teacher, and an amazing leader, but she is terrible at governing without experience.”
“How can you say that!” Twilight exclaimed. “She’s been ruling Equestria for well over a thousand years, at least!”
“Because, experience does not make one innately good at something, it just makes one experienced at it,” Blueblood said. “Celestia has been ruling Equestria for well over a thousand years, just as you said. She is an experienced ruler. However, she has made more than a thousand years worth of errors, mistakes and missteps in that time. At the extreme, there is at least one conflict she is partly responsible for.
“Yet,” he continued, “She is a smart mare and, critically, she knows how to learn from her mistakes. She may be a wise ruler now, but it was only because she had the opportunity. Without it, she would do no better than anypony else.”
“But she is an excellent teacher, Blueblood.”
“What did she teach you?”
“Everything I could possibly think of.” She remembered her friendship lessons. “Or at least she tried.”
“Everything... I don’t think that’s true, not for a minute. She might have taught you much for the role she was grooming you for, but governance... If she did, she taught it poorly.”
“But she did teach me about governance. She taught me a great deal about how it functions, how bills are signed into law, how–”
Once more, Blueblood interrupted. “So she taught you about governance, not how to govern.”
“I disa–”
Again. “Does reading a book on how to fly make a pegasus a wonderbolt? Does being told how to cast a spell make a unicorn Starswirl the Bearded? Theory will only take you so far.”
“Since you seem to know so much,” Twilight asked with some bite, “what would you have done different?”
“I would have seen you attached as an assistant through various departments of government, and followed through by sending you along to the places their governance reaches to live as the residents do. Cycle through every couple of weeks, and at the end of several months, you would have a better understanding, and appreciation for governance, along with experience and how it affects the ponies it touches. Couple that with case studies, and broader lessons on Equestria, demographics and population”
Twilight couldn’t find a rebuttal which would stand. “That... Actually would have been a good idea.”
“It’s not as though I’m an unthinking unfeeling machine, princess.”
“I never said that.”
“‘So then I’m a boorish oaf?”
That would be a little more on the mark, though still not polite to say. But the fact he was putting words into her mouth was another thing entirely. “What? I didn’t...”
“It is certainly something, because what is obvious is you don’t particularly like me.” He didn’t give her any time to formulate to answer. “Please understand, Twilight, if I have seemed hostile to you over the past few days, it has nothing... Nothing, to do with who you as a pony are. It’s because of what you, as a princess, are capable of doing with your power when you have so very very little experience wielding it in this role. If I have to be abrupt, harsh and unsupportive in the most absolute sense, I will, if only to prevent you from ruining something which would take years to mend.”
His explanation would explain a lot, but something about didn’t quite sit right with Twilight. Maybe it was from all her time around Applejack, but it felt as though there was something more he wasn’t saying. Just what, however, she wasn’t sure. It could just as easily have been something he wasn’t saying as it could have all been a lie. Still she had to play the part of a placated princess if only to ease the tension between them. Maybe it was just that his personality wasn’t really one she particularly envied. He wore the trappings of his position like a suit, while she stumbled over the coattails.“You could stand to be a little more polite about it.”
“Well, perhaps you will have a shorter life in politics than you realize if that’s you feel. Now, regarding your reform, perhaps it would be easier to show you the problem. Do you have the bill with you?”
“You tore it up,” she deadpanned.
He held out his hoof. “And you put it back together, if rumors are not mistaken.”
She sighed, and reached for her saddlebags. But the proposal wasn’t there. She quickly ran through the morning in her head, and grew frustrated when she realized that she hadn’t opened her saddlebags anywhere. If she hadn’t taken it out anywhere, it meant that they were likely lying on her desk in her room. With a defeated sigh, she closed the bag, not even noticing the absence of Discord’s letter. “I... I think it’s back in my room,” she admitted. “I must have forgotten it there this morning.”
“I see. Well, perhaps it’s for the best,” Blueblood said. “When you find it, take some time and give it some thought before you come find me. I suspect you will hardly need my input in the end.”
Twilight narrowed her eyes. “What is with that? Why can’t you just tell me what you find wrong with it?”
“Because, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of all of this?”
“Do you mean to tell me this entire thing has been just a lesson?”
He snorted in amusement. “If you want to call this a lesson, by all means. I’m just trying to make a point, and you’ll better understand if you’re the one to reach it. If you’re looking for somepony to talk it over with, Luna is taking tea in the garden.
Well, at least it was better than last time they had parted. Twilight figured that she might even take his suggestion; she owed Luna a bit of a talking too if nothing else. “Thank you Blueblood, I’ll try to keep what you said in mind.”
Twilight sat and scowled at her teacup, refusing to meet Luna’s gaze. The prank had been the last thing on her mind when she had entered the gardens, until she noticed the laughter in Luna’s eyes. The very corner of Luna’s mouth quirked and trembled, even as they debated which variety of tea to have. It only got worse when Twilight noticed the two bat ponies standing guard similarly suppressing laughter. Even with their stony expressions, royal guards had their own little tells and breaks in discipline.
“How about Rooibos?” Twilight suggested. “Celestia should have some stock from Zecora. She makes a wonderful blend which is nice with tea biscuits.” With Zecora’s almost encyclopedic knowledge of the plants of the Everfree, the zebra was capable of making and selecting better teas than anypony Twilight knew. Even Celestia, save for a few varieties of imported teas from the west, had to yield to Zecora in that respect.
“Oh that sounds lovely,” Luna said in a coy tone.
She dumped the tea leaves into a pot, and followed them with boiling water. “How has your day been?”
“Since we last spoke? Hmm... Well, this morning I was doing some research into ancient magic tomes, so I suppose I could continue that. Buuut, I seemed to have misplaced the tome I was studying.”
Twilight sighed slowly. It wasn’t going to end until Luna got what she wanted, and she knew exactly which tome she meant. “Fine!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “You got me! Happy!”
Luna’s half smile broke into a grin full of teeth. “Quite.” She threw her head back in laughter: loud, unrestrained laughter.“Oh by the stars!” she cried. “You looked so worried, and then– then so angry!” One snicker escaped the leftmost guard, but if Luna heard it she chose to ignore it. Twilight could only grumble under her breath as Luna laughed. “You have my apologies, but it was simply too good an opportunity to pass.”
“In retrospect, it was a good prank,” Twilight admitted. “But perhaps next time, could you not make me think dangerous spells had been stolen. You had me worried we had a crisis on our hooves.”
“Trust in me that I would push a prank of that nature no further,” Luna said. “Furthermore, were it truly a dire situation, I would handle it differently.” The words were a relief to Twilight, even though she knew in her heart that Luna would never go so far for a prank.“Tell me, what of Thistle? We’ve not seen hide nor hair of him since we departed. Was it too much for him?”
“Thistle?” Twilight couldn’t help but giggle. “Knowing him, if you had asked, he would have gladly helped. Maybe thrown in some cheesy fake dialogue about his nefarious plot being foiled.” It was an easy role to cast him in in her mind’s eye. “As for where he went, I asked him to accompany me into the city.” She told Luna what they had done, and about the fire elemental. Luna watched, nodding along, only interrupting to ask the odd question. By the time Twilight finished, they were both on their second cup of tea. “Considering he was reluctant to accompany me into the city, Thistle will probably show up for duty soon.”
“Good, we had hoped to properly initiate him this night,” Luna said. “It wouldn’t be right for him to miss his own party. Still though, it does beg the question... You, dear Twilight Sparkle, seem to enjoy his presence a great deal. Perhaps I should start looking for somepony in the guard too...”
The insinuation was clear, but Twilight wasn’t falling for it. As she opened her mouth to reply, a stroke of daring struck. “If being friends with a member of the opposite sex in the guard has to have romantic inclinations, than what does that say about you and most of the Lunar Guard? What role do they really serve?”
The comment caught Luna by surprise, and the two guards spared an incredulous glance back at Twilight. Then, Luna roared with laughter, pounding a hoof on the arm of her chair. “Well met Twilight. I would never have expected such a riposte out of you.” Just as quickly as it had struck, Twilight’s courage departed, and she blushed and ducked her head. “Still,” Luna continued, “if you wish to play that game, you must be able to hold your convictions.”
“Umm... Yeah,” Twilight stammered. She quickly cast about for a new subject, and settled on one which had dominated her mind in recent days. “Luna, what do you think of Blueblood?”
“In what sense? What we talked about over breakfast yesterday?”
She sighed. “I don’t know... A general sense. We met briefly today to discuss the education reform, and I came away not knowing what to make of it or him. One moment he seems to be harsh, overly critical and almost pig-headed, but the next he makes rational points, argues with sound logic, and gives vague compliments.”
“I’m afraid I know little more than you,” Luna admitted. She swirled her teacup idly. “Even though this is my home, I know him in barely more than a professional capacity. Maybe as an acquaintance. We might eat the occasional meal together, or end up chatting as we both wait in a room, but he isn’t one to let ponies close. As far as I am aware, Celestia is the only one who can claim that.”
“Huh,” she uttered.
“What I can tell you is the tabloids make it seem like he is the next coming of Tirek, and that is laughably false. Though why my sister chose to make him a prince over somepony else, I do not know.”
If it hadn’t been so quiet, Twilight would have sworn she misheard Luna. “Wait, what!” Twilight cried. “Celestia made him a prince!” She had always assumed that he had inherited the title. In fact, nearly every publication she had ever read seemed to hold that view as truth. The news shocked her almost senseless.
Luna furrowed her eyebrows. “Why yes... In Equestria royalty aren’t born, they earn their position. I thought you knew this.”
“I did, but I thought... What about Flurry Heart? Isn’t she a princess?” she demanded.
“Yes, technically of the Crystal Empire, not Equestria. Though I am sure with time and guidance she will come to inherit that mantle too.” She hesitated, then frowned. “Maybe that has changed in our absence too.”
“But... I– Ughhh,” Twilight groaned; she buried her face into her hooves. “I don’t know what to make of it all.”
“Then don’t make anything of it,” Luna said. She took a sip of her tea. “There is a time for hindsight, and there is a time for action. Blueblood may have been made a prince for some reason, but what matters now is that he is a prince and your peer.”
“It’s... Difficult to seem him as one.”
“Maybe that is your problem then. Perhaps you invalid his opinion or reasoning because of what you think of him or his actions, not the words themselves.” The words seemed like an echo of what Blueblood had said to her, albeit in a different manner from a different source. That the words seemed to sink in lent even more weight to Luna’s theory.
“I guess...”
“Setting aside that for the moment, did you end up reading the book I sent you?”
It was an old magic book, nothing as striking as Starswirl’s work, but interesting all the same. Twilight couldn’t recall exactly when it had begun, but she and Luna had taken up correspondence over older magic. With Luna’s absence for a thousand years, she handled and controlled magic in a manner alien to how Twilight had been taught. Yet, a thousand years ago, magic had been taught in that manner. For Twilight it was a chance to look back; for Luna an opportunity to move forward.
“Yes,” Twilight answered. “There’s a part I was wondering about, Diamond’s fifth theory: the one about the rate of heat decay for subset spells of the second order. I was working through a derivation of the formula and I ended on something similar to the modern version of it – Wrote’s version – but there were a few extra terms left over.”
Luna nodded sagely “Diamond’s fifth theory took many years before it gained traction amongst the mages of my time. To them, the concept appeared correct, but there were complexities to it and flaws in related formulas which discouraged its use. Eventually the fifth theory was tentatively adopted, but for all but the most scholarly and well-versed, it was too difficult to understand.”
Twilight reached into her saddlebags and brought out her notebook. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “There,” she said, passing the book to Luna. “The top one is the Wrote’s version, and the bottom the derivation from Diamond’s.”
She was silent as she examined Twilight’s writing. “Would you happen to know the more general form of the formula?” Luna asked. It took a page turn to answer the question. Luna frowned. “Ah, yes, I was afraid of this.”
“Of what?”
“The main problem of Diamond’s theory was that it was ahead of its time and inaccessible to most. Wrote made his own version, the one you call the modern version, and he did so by taking Diamond’s formula removing normally negligible factors, and rearranging the equation to make it easier to work with. Now, Wrote also made a more general version, including some of what he had originally removed, but it was written from the less complex modern version.” Luna looked up from the notebook. “Do you have a quill?”
“Of course.”
Luna scribelled an addition on a fresh page and showed Twilight. “I suspect this is the true general form of Wrote’s equation.”
It took a quick read and a moment of comprehension to arrive at the same conclusion Luna had. What she had written was identical to Diamond’s fifth theory, save for one additional term, but in the format of Wrote’s equations. “That’s incredible! Do you know what this would do for magic!”
“Precisely nothing,” Luna said. At Twilight’s evident disbelief, she continued. “Would we really be the first ponies to discover this if it took that much work to put together.
“I– No... of course not.”
Luna closed the notebook and offered it back to Twilight. “In my time the path of the mage was a calling that few chose. Over time, however, more and more ponies found their calling learning magic. It would be a wondrous thing, except that in the pursuit the process has been diluted. Knowing how to cast spells has become the objective, not knowing why spells work as they do.”
The true meaning of her words evaded Twilight. “I don’t quite follow.”
She pointed to the notebook. “Why isn’t this the first equation ponies think of?”
It wasn’t difficult to see why: there were too many terms, differentials, integrals and additional mathematical concepts involved for truly minor details. “Most ponies find it too complicated.”
Luna nodded. “Instead of learning broadly how the theory works, ponies instead taught a different formula for each case. Simplified versions for each case. So instead of one general formula, they are taught many formulas as though they are unrelated to one another. I would not expect ponies to fully understand the true general form of Wrote’s entirely, but they should at least understand what it means.”
“Are you saying that ponies should understand the more complex form?”
She nodded more firmly. “Yes, they should.”
“Playing devil’s advocate here... Most ponies have no need of the more complex form.”
Luna tapped her chin with a hoof. “What is the saying I heard...” She brightened. “Ah. When all you have is a hammer, it is easy to see everything as a nail.”
Twilight cocked her head.“I mean, I’ve heard the saying, but I don’t understand what hardware has to do with this.”
“I didn’t either until the other day. But as an example, take teleportation... Define what it means.”
The definition came easily to her. “Teleportation is the act of moving a living or nonliving object from one point to another.”
“How many spells are there for teleportation?”
“Well, the one I use moves me from point to point. It’s commonly known as blink teleportation.”
“And is that the only way to teleport?”
“Well, no, but...” A glimmer of realization struck her. “No, but it’s the only way most ponies think of teleporting.”
“Indeed,” Luna said. “Consider another method of teleporting, such as the idea of folding space... Even if it is more theoretical at this point than reality. Its theorized advantage comes from the ability to teleport long distances with a minimal increase of energy needed. Yet, when it comes to teleporting long distances – a screw if you would – ponies can’t help but hammer away at it with blink teleportation. Developments are made not in making folding space teleportation possible, but making blink teleportation efficient enough to be applied over long distances.”
“It’s not that I don’t think ponies shouldn’t be learning as much as magic as they can, but teleportation isn’t really a spell most ponies have a use for.” Twilight explained.
“The same applies elsewhere. At any level above the most basic, magic is predominantly taught to produce results, not understand.”
It was like with Thistle’s siblings. So eager to learn that they did not take the time to think. Ponies were wanting the ends without understanding the basics. “I see your point,” she admitted. “However, changing the curriculum too much may be something for a later date.”
“Indeed. Now, I was intrigued by what you sent me in our exchange... Quantum mana hybridization was it?”
“Yes, it’s a new theory a unicorn couple investigating the crystal empire are working on.”
For any guard, whether they belonged to the Lunar, Solar, Archival, Municipal, or any of the other many divisions, all learned the neutral ‘guard stance’ they were so famous for. Were in not for their steady breath, and the gleam of awareness in their eyes, they could have been wax mannequins. Yet, as the two Lunar guards proceeded to listen to their charges’ discussion, the gleam was gradually replaced with a glazed stare. To them, Luna and Twilight might as well have been putting random words together and calling them sentences for all the sense they made.
→ ↔ ←
“No, no, no, no!” Twilight cried, her head swinging one way then the next as she looked through her room. She dropped the couch cushions and galloped to her bed to peer beneath it.
The meeting with Luna had brought some ideas – slight modifications – she wanted to add to the education reform. A brief trot through the castle had brought her back to her room, and the desk which she stored her work in. The only issue was, the education reform was not there. Nor was it in her bags, or set aside on another table. Short of tearing out the furnishings, there was nowhere in her room left to look. Perhaps a servant could have set it elsewhere, but there were too many problems for that theory to be possible.
Every time Twilight ran through the day in her mind, she came back to the same answer: she had no notion what could have happened to the document.
The heavy pounding on the door interrupted her panic. Still, she didn’t stop looking. “Yes?” she called.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle!”
It was the bafflement in not recognizing the voice, not the declaration itself, which caused Twilight to pause. A stern looking batpony awaited her when Twilight opened the door, her deep moss coloured coat a stark contrast to her sharp silver eyes. The mare stiffened as she snapped a salute. “We have not yet been introduced. I am Captain Rift of the Lunar Guard.”
“Um... Good afternoon Captain Rift. Was there something I can help you with?”
“Anything urgent planned?”
“No, I... What is this about?”
“The question, princess.”
“Not really, but why–”
“Then come with me.” Rift turned and started slowly, waiting for Twilight to catch up. “We have a problem.”
Twilight spared her room one more glance, before summoning her bags and heading after Rift. “You’re being awfully brisk, captain.”
She grunted noncommittally. “Private Thistle Down reported in a few minutes ago from his trip with you into the city. He brought with him a set of courier shoes.”
Twilight scowled. She should have known he would try to investigate it further. “I told him not to worry about her. It was an accident, not intentional.”
Rift shook her head. “With all due respect Princess, you’re too trusting.”
“I like to see the best in ponies.”
“And it’s our job to see the worst,” she snapped back. “Those shoes Thistle brought in, princess, had traces of a fast acting wear spell on them; a very strong one. The courier is not responsible, as her magic did not match the residual signature, but the fact is somepony cast the spell so she would trip right as she neared you.”
Twilight’s mind blanked, and then alarm bells started ringing as she mulled over the implications. “The education reform, somepony...”
Rift nodded tersely. “The guard received a tip a few minutes ago from a reputable source. Your education reform will be the subject of a special evening edition of the Canterlot Chronicle.”
“Will they give it back?” Twilight asked hopefully.
The mare chuckled humorlessly. “Oh, they’ll give it back, just as long as it takes to make a copy to publish. To them, it’s easily worth any legal stonewalling they might have to do, or fines they have to pay. One way or another, everypony in Canterlot will have heard of it by the day’s end.”
Had anyone asked when she had first written it, the news would have been disappointing. Sort of like spoiling a surprise for something which wasn’t polished to perfection. It was odd then, that after everything which had happened, she found the idea worrying. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Damage control now, princess.” She hesitated. “The other appropriate parties are being informed as we speak at Princess Celestia’s request. Did you have anything planned for the next few hours?”
“No... I...”
“Good.” Rift said. She turned sharply down another hall, so quickly that Twilight had to trot to catch up. “Nothing to cancel then.”
Twilight took a few quick breaths; Rift’s long gait was as effortless as she made it seem. Perhaps exercise would need to move up the list when she got back to Ponyville. “Who is going to be there?”
“I suspect all royalty, Celestia’s secretary, the education minister and the press secretary. Naturally, myself and Private Thistle Down will be there, if only for a moment to explain what happened.”
“Would you like me to teleport us there?”
“No, we are close. Though, that is another matter I would like to speak with you about. Teleporting makes it very difficult for us to guard you, so I would ask for you to refrain from doing so unless it is an emergency.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Twilight offered.
“See that you do.”
Rift seemed content to remain silent, save at Twilight’s prompting. Even then, it was only the answer. Rift didn’t even attempt to turn any exchange into the conversation. Though she was turning out not to be the friendliest of ponies, it was easy for Twilight to understand why Rift was a Captain in the first place. If focus on duty was a desired trait, than Rift had it in spades. Still, it was unfair to make the judgement so quickly after having met her, especially considering the conditions under which they met. It could turn out that she was more approachable on her off-hours. At least, she was certain Shining had never been like Rift was.
The castle halls gave way to narrow service corridors, ones which tended to be away from the eyes of the public. Captain Rift stopped at a door, and held it open for Twilight. Inside, sitting around the round oak table, were ponies she had met and ponies she had yet to meet. In the former category were Celestia, Luna, Blueblood and Raven. In the latter category was Dill, the minister of education, and Spanner Twist, the castle’s press secretary.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle, as promised,” Rift said.
“Thank you, Captain,” Luna said.
“Now that we are all here, may we begin?” Dill asked. He was a stout yellowish-green earth pony, with bright yellow accents through his otherwise similarly coloured mane.
“Of course minister,” Celestia said. “I assume you’ve all been informed of the circumstances surrounding how Canterlot Chronicle got hold of Twilight’s proposal.” Various statements of confirmation echoed through the room. “Would any of you have any questions?”
“Just one,” Spanner said. “You said a pony took it from Princess Twilight?” He was a slate grey unicorn with a trim peach mane. From his head to hoof, he maintained a very groomed appearance with nary a hair out of place.
“Yes, by using the distraction to remove it from her saddlebags.”
“Do you know what they looked like?”
“Private Thistle,” Rift commanded, at Celestia’s prompting nod.
From his place alongside the door, Thistle stepped forward. “Err... Yes,” he answered. The armour was a good fit on him, but it was apparent he felt desperately out of place. “The suspect is a yellow unicorn mare with an auburn mane and a cutie mark of three flowers. Unless I missed it, she was the only pony who had any contact with the bags.” The image of the mare so kindly offering Twilight her bags back flashed through her mind.
“What were you doing in the city with the princess? Isn’t it customary for two guards to accompany royalty on official business?”
“Well, yes... That is to say...” Thistle was struggling to find a satisfactory answer.
“It was a personal trip,” Twilight cut in. It didn’t seem fair to let him struggle, especially when his answer would probably seem unsatisfactory. “I wanted to catch up with him.”
“Catch up?” Spanner parroted. He eyed Twilight skeptically.
“We were friends when we were foals, and it’s been years since I had seen him. And actually, by the time the courier pony crashed into me, I was investigating what turned out to be a summoned fire elemental.”
“But what–”
“Spanner, that is quite enough,” Celestia interrupted. “It’s not unreasonable for Twilight to be use to protocol as of yet.”
He sighed, but relented. “Of course, princess.”
“If that is everything...” She looked around. “Captain Rift, Private Thistle, thank you for your time.”
Rift and Thistle bowed, taking the dismissal for what it was. “Princesses, Prince.”
Blueblood waited till the doors had shut before speaking for the first time. “First and foremost... Twilight, I expect you’ll see at getting some tamper proof saddlebags before the week is out.”
She sighed and rubbed her horn. “Yes, I can see how that would have been useful.”
“What would have been useful for me,” Dill spoke up, rather irately, “is knowing you were working on an education reform. Now I’m going to be dealing with questions about how this fits into the budget.”
“Minster,” Blueblood said, “the idea was more conceptual than you realize. Unless you want to be informed of all ideas down to changing chalk colours, it’s reasonable to expect a degree of autonomy when coming up with ideas. Doubly so as a member of the royal family.”
“Pages, does not sound like a simple concept to me,” Dill shot back, stressing the plural.
Blueblood straightened his collar. “Twilight Sparkle is a very thorough mare, and I was assisting her with developing it further. If I had thought it prudent, I would have brought it to your attention, Minister.”
He harrumphed but said nothing further.
“What’s done is done,” Luna said. “We may bicker over details, but it does not change the fact that the reform, work in progress it may be, will be published for all of Equestria to see. I suggest we focus on what we are to do.”
“Press conference?” Spanner suggested tiredly.
“I fear so.” Celestia said. “It would be better to be proactive rather than reactive and let speculation spread.”
“Princess Twilight will be holding it, I presume.”
The idea of a press conference was not foreign to Twilight, but she knew this would be an opportunity of a different nature. There would be no softball questions, or topics which if poorly explained were worth more of a light-hearted laugh than a scowl. “I’ll do it!” Twilight declared.
“Are you sure?” Luna asked.
“Yes. The reform was my idea after all. I know more–”
“No, I’ll do it,” Blueblood interrupted.
“Excuse me!” Twilight cried. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes I am.”
“I agree with Twilight, Blueblood” Celestia said, “it is her work.”
“I would agree if this was about presenting her proposal... But this is about handling the reaction to it.””
“I don’t see how it could be anything other than presenting the idea and answering questions” Twilight said.
“It’s been a very slow week for news lately.” Blueblood turned in his seat. “Isn’t that right, Spanner?”
Spanner groaned with weary realization. “Yes, and I see where you are going with this.” He rubbed at his temples. “The press has been pushing my office for a story, and now that they’ve got something, they’ll make it into one. Otherwise it would have probably slipped away on the back pages.”
“So, this isn’t a matter of it being her work,” Blueblood said. “This is a matter of experience in handling the response. I don’t feel comfortable leaving it to Twilight.”
“I disagree,” Twilight said. “I’m confident that the bill is thorough enough that there’s not going to be any room for misinterpretation, or nothing that I won’t be able to clarify.”
“Just curious,” Spanner started, “but could the bill be feasibly introduced in its current state with minimal fuss?”
“Well...” Twilight hummed in thought. “If you give me a minute, I could quickly write down what methods the bill would be using to improve magical education.”
He shook his head. “No, no, no. I mean, legislatively, would it be considered ready to be signed into law? There being no large financial details absent, for instance.”
“Oh. Well in that case, yes. I’d consider the bill ready.”
Spanner sighed. “Look, I know you won’t like this, but Blueblood should be the one presenting it then. This isn’t us informing the public about a new bill we are proposing. They know everything about it, if it is really that ready.”
“I still don’t see it,” Twilight said. “Ponies will want answers about the bill. Maybe clarifications, and discussion about it, but certainly not ‘damage control.’”
“There’s a big difference between saying ‘I am going to fix the plumbing,’ and saying, ‘I’m going to fix the dripping kitchen faucet by shutting off the water to the building’. With your bill being so specific, you're going to have trouble passing the bill off as a draft, or a work in progress. And if something which needs to be changed is brought up, they may pass it off as backpedaling due to public pressure, or that you missed something. One has you lacking conviction, the other, you being incompetent. Neither would reflect well on the crown or you, especially as the new princess.”
The worst part of all was that she couldn’t deny his points. “Be that as it may, I still believe I can handle it.”
“Is the proposal really that bad?” Dill asked Blueblood.
“Hardly,” Blueblood said. “If I were to take a random document from your desk, and give it to the press out of context, would they find fault with anything?”
“I see your point.”
From her place at the table, Raven cleared her throat. “Unless anypony has any other suggestions, it would seem that we all agree that either Princess Twilight or Prince Blueblood should handle the press conference.”
“I believe so, Raven,” Luna said.
“Well, with neither of them willing to back down, perhaps it should fall to a vote?” She looked to her left. “Spanner, what do you think?”
“Blueblood,” Spanner said. “There’s going to be other chances for Princess Twilight to present the reform, and I’ve seen these turn ugly real fast.”
Dill nodded in agreement. “Aye.”
Celestia sighed. “Provided Twilight is the one to present the finished proposal, Blueblood.”
“Though I still am not certain,” Luna said, “I feel in this situation, Blueblood’s experience at handling the press outweighs Twilight’s familiarity with her work.”
Raven looked to Twilight. “Any objections or arguments.”
Twilight frowned and glumly looked down at her hooves. It would seem Blueblood would have the opportunity after all, and not for the wrong reasons. “Nothing more than I’ve already said.”
By the evening, Rift’s predictions had come to pass. The city was ablaze with the story of the reform, and nopony was more eager to learn more than the various newspapers, magazines and news agencies. They were clamoring over each other to be the first to etch out critical details. The Canterlot Chronicles were the first to break the story, but now, with the full document published in the paper for all to see, they were all on a level playing field. In spite of this, however, the quick turn-around in the crown calling a press conference stalled idle speculation.
Despite her disappointment in being outvoted by her fellow princesses, the education minister, and the press secretary, Twilight was still committed to making sure the press conference went as smoothly as possible. Perhaps it was because she didn’t entirely disagree with Blueblood’s reasoning that she was handling it fine. Though she would loathe to admit it, there was a sort of relief knowing she wouldn’t have to stand in front of all those ponies. Being backstage was much easier on the mind in that regard. It took a simple enchantment to let her see through the curtain so she could watch the proceedings.
The preparations hadn’t taken them long, and ponies were already waiting for the doors to open long before they actually had. It had been another half an hour before Blueblood stepped onto the platform to a barrage of shouted questions and flashing camera lights. He stood there, enduring it for a minute, before he finally spoke.
“Before we begin, I would like to make one thing very clear.”
The ponies before him were silent. He scanned the crowd, meeting the eyes of each pony there.
“In the past decade the royal family of Equestria has expanded from two ponies – myself and Princess Princess Celestia – to five by appointment, and two more by relation. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was the first when she ascended, Princess Luna was the second upon her return, and Princess Twilight upon her own ascension so recently. By relation, there is Prince Shining Armour and Princess Flurry Heart.
“But there is one thing that hasn’t changed: the privacy of the royal family is a right just as much as it is for any pony. And enforcement of this right will be treated just as seriously as any other law.” He looked over the crowd imperiously. “The document printed in the Canterlot Chronicles was not intended for public distribution, and was stolen, not found. The guard has a suspect whom we’ll be investigating and prosecuting to the fullest extent of the law in the coming weeks. Yet, as this is the first time in many years, if the pony comes forward voluntarily the punishment will be limited to twenty hours of community service, and a pardon for the crime once completed.”
Murmuring broke out amongst the crowd, but nopony stepped forward. Twilight noted at the back of the room, one of the guards’ horn lit up with a spell.
“Oh, and might I add that the punishment for this crime is a two thousand bit fine and up to six months in prison?” Blueblood added.
The murmuring became conversational, but still Blueblood stood waiting. Still no response came.
“No?” he asked the room. “If that is truly her decision, then I see no point in stalling–”
“Wait!” came a mare’s cry.
It was took a long few moments, but eventually, a yellow hoof was raised shakily amidst the crowd. Ponies turned, looked, and gasped. Twilight was among their number when she saw it was the same pony who had offered her back her bags. “Um... it was me, Prince Blueblood.” It was scarcely more than a whisper, but it made its way through the stunned silence of the crowd.
“Oh? Are you sure?”
“Yes...” The mare admitted. Her ears were plastered back against her head, and her eyes could only spend mere moments meeting his gaze, and she could scare look elsewhere but the ground before her hooves. “If I could, I would take back everything. But now...”
Blueblood regarded the mare carefully. “Well then... Guards, arrest her.”
“What!?” She shrieked. Evidently Blueblood had discussed it with the guard beforehand, because before the mare could even think to flee or move, they had descended around her. She shrank in on herself.“You said–”
“I said you would be pardoned for the crime of stealing the education reform,” he answered sternly, “nothing about the manner in which you stole them. Assault on royalty by proxy, use of magic with the intent to cause physical harm, destruction of government property... There’s quite a list for what you did. I can so readily dismiss the theft of royal documents because it is merely a drop in the bucket.”
“But... But– I only took the documents!”
“Really...” Blueblood intoned skeptically. “Sergeant Icarus, would you please scan the signature of her magic.”
“You can’t do that!” the mare cried.
“Oh? And why not? As a confessed criminal, the scan can be performed without a warrant.”
The mare paled, and started to shake.
Sergeant Icarus turned back to the stage. “It is a match.”
“Then please escort our guest to the holding cells, Sergeant.”
The mare was stunned into silence as they cuffed her hooves, and broke into sobs as she was led from the room. Scarcely a pony moved; they were frozen into shock at what had become of one of their colleagues.
Blueblood began in a conversational tone, building with each word. “Assembled press of Canterlot, Equestria and beyond... Let me make one thing very clear: the crown will not stand for violence of any nature as a means to acquire stories. That means any story any time, any place. Offenders will be granted no clemency and will be made examples of. And examples will continued to be made until the point is understood. Furthermore, if a publication willingly and knowingly conducts business with ponies who use violence to break news, or dare to encourage it, they will be held as conspirators to the crime.” He pointed to the door the guards had escorted the mare through. “Consider your colleague your one and only warning.” Murmuring broke out amongst the crowd, and a few cameras went off in flashes of light.
“Yet, you gather here today to press for details on this stolen document as if you have some right to know,” he continued, his tone growing irate. “As if you are not taking advantage of the assault on royalty to understand. There is–”
One of the reporters in the crowd spoke up. “You were the one who called for–”
“Excuse me,” Blueblood said, glaring at the reporter, “did I ask to be interrupted?”
“No, but–”
“The next pony to interrupt me will be removed from the room and have their press pass revoked.” All talk stalled. “As I was saying, as this is your idea of journalism, I will treat this press conference with the same respect. I will not tolerate any nonsense.” He scanned the room. “You will speak when called upon, not sooner. Now... Questions on the education reform?”
Hooves went up. Blueblood pointed towards a mare in the front row.
“Shimmering Circus with the Manehattan Press. I–”
“I really don’t care what your name is or who you’re with,” Blueblood said.
“Pardon?” the mare asked, taken aback.
He rolled his eyes.”Oh sorry, would you care to give me your life story first? The question, please. I have better things to be doing.”
Twilight silently fumed that he was able to get away speaking to a pony like that.
The mare rallied. “Well... The bill mentions hiring additional instructors to teach. Where will they come from, and how will they be certified?”
“Canterlot possesses the most prestigious school of magic,” Blueblood explained, “which, along with a few other select academies, will conduct proper training and ensuring certification is met. With a broader skill set required, the instructors will be justly compensated for their work and travel.”
More ponies raised their hooves. “You.”
A stallion this time. “Will the Cloudsdale Flight Academy be one of these institutions?”
“The point of this bill is to reform magic education, not flight education. I thought that would have been made abundantly clear what with the full document itself.”
Murmuring broke out at this, and Blueblood stared aimlessly at the crowd, wearing a bored frown. He pointed a lazy hoof. “Green hat.”
“Will Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns see any change?”
“Perhaps a refresh of the facility. Some of the equipment is a little worn down.”
Another question. “Will there be any considerations given to metropolitan areas?”
“Nothing more than small changes,” Blueblood stated. “The facilities which fall into that category, like the Manhattan School of Magic or Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, already see a considerable amount of financial support. This is before considering the frequency of donations that such schools attract.”
More hooves raised. “Prince Blueblood, in your own words, could you describe the purpose of the bill?”
“Of course,” Blueblood said. “In smaller towns and villages, there is neither the facilities nor instructors to properly teach unicorn foals magic. With no access to formal education, it is no wonder that foals and adults who live there are almost chronically behind the national thuamatic average. The purpose of the bill is to extend the reach of the proper facilities, such as Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, to these locations.”
In a nutshell, it was almost word for word how Twilight had originally described the bill to Celestia.
A mustached stallion near the front was selected next. “Forgive me if this question strays from the bill a bit, but what was printed in the Canterlot Chronicles has annotations which are quite different from what you’re telling us.”
“The bill as I know it, is what we are discussing.”
“As you know it...” the stallion said. “Do you mean to say that somepony else is working on it with you?
“Working on it? Yes. With me... less so. The bill you’ve all seen was Princess Twilight’s copy.”
The murmuring broke into a racket, yet the mustached stallion preserved. “Would I be wrong in concluding that the annotations are hers, while the body of the bill is yours?”
Twilight’s blood froze. She could see what was coming; the words which would form on his lips that she was powerless to stop. Every action, every word exchanged with Blueblood came back to her in a flash. Then, it had seemed out of character, but now it was all an act: a way for him to do what the nagging doubt at the back of her mind had warned her about. Sowing doubt, making her uncertain in her own work... It had all been a setup.
“Yes, it is mine,” Blueblood said. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure why Princess Twilight put her name on it when she copied my original.” He shrugged. “She probably thought of it as a school assignment. Then again, considering it was stolen,” he stressed, “she probably had more research left to do.”
“And where is she?” a mare near the back asked.
He chuckled mockingly. “The solution to fixing our countries stagnant magical education is so obvious, yet she insisted on devoting more time and resources on research. So, to answer your question, probably at the library reading yet another book.”
Backstage, it took all the guards effort to keep Twilight from bursting out on the stage, and one guard more to keep up the silence spell. She struggled fiercely, but their saving grace was that in her rage Twilight wasn’t thinking. She could have teleported or torn away the curtains with telekinesis, but the thoughts running through her head dominated any semblance of rational thought. All she cared about was correcting his lie.
Now, regardless of how much work Twilight had done on it, Blueblood’s name would always be tied to bill in a significant manner. Because the truth of the matter was ponies were buying it. It was so easy to see that they were convinced by his story. She was the inexperienced newcomer, while he had been in his role for a long long time; for as long as it had been since Celestia had made him a Prince. And despite what ponies thought of him, experience was experience.
In the midst of the turmoil of her mind, an errant thought emerged. What would happen if the prince was no longer a prince? After all, if Royalty could be made then surely they could be unmade. If Blueblood was going to claim her work as his own, she would remove his ability to, and Equestria would be better for it. In a court of peers, there was bound to be enough support with how he acted. With that, Twilight relented, letting the guards usher her out towards the door and into the hallway beyond. There, she waited.
While she had a plan, she wasn’t willing to let his actions slide without confronting him first.
→ ↔ ←
Twenty minutes passed before Blueblood finally emerged into the hallway. He sighed, then straightened his collar. It was remarkable then how he almost missed Twilight’s glare boring holes into him from five paces away. Twenty minutes was a long time to let anger and frustrations fester.
“How dare you,” Twilight practically hissed.
Blueblood looked over, wearing a bored expression. “Pray tell, what makes you say that?”
It was the wrong choice of words. “You had nothing to do my reform, yet you just told everypony that you wrote it. And don’t pretend you didn’t.”
“You’re right, I did,” Blueblood answered. “I took ownership of your work.”
The sudden rush of anger stole the words from her mouth. A hoof to the gut couldn’t have accomplished it so perfectly.
“Have you ever stopped to think why I did?” he continued, staring down his muzzle at her.
“Because it’s the easiest way to make it seem like you did work!” she screeched. “It’s the easiest way to make it seem like you still serve some purpose after all these years!”
“No, that’s not–”
“Don’t you dare try to deny it!” she shouted. “And what little work you did credit me for, you made it sound as though I was some naive filly!”
“So, who is shouting and raving here?”
Twilight produced a noise halfway between a strangled scream and groan. “Fine! You’re better than me at wordplay. You’re better than me at being a deceitful, lying, boorish pony.” She spat each word with venom. “But I don’t really care, because in the end you’re just a fraud.”
Blueblood was not without sharp words of his own.“And you are most definitely a naive filly if you think that you’re going to get anywhere with nothing but a hope and a smile.”
“So was this all meant to be a lesson? I’m ‘supposed’ to learn something from all of this and graciously give you thanks?” Twilight’s features hardened. “No, I’m sick of being tossed to the side and told to accept it with a smile.”
“Then why–”
She stomped a hoof, cutting him off before he could start. “I am not finished Blueblood! I’m tired of watching you getting away with everything you set your mind to! You do nothing for Equestria that couldn’t be done by anypony else in a heartbeat. But if it was only that, perhaps... Just maybe, I could forgive you.” She squared up to him, and took a deep breath. Her earlier anger was dulled, but her thoughts were more measured and felt right. “You represent the worst excesses in Equestria, and you abuse your position endlessly just to stoke your ego. You’re cruel to ponies over small honest mistakes even when they are trying their best, and you act as though the entire world is yours to command. To this day, I wonder what possessed Celestia to make your a Prince, because Equestria would be far better off without you. And if the title was stripped from you now, I’d sleep a little better at night. I just hope one day you can see what you’ve accomplished as clearly as I can and how vile a legacy you’ve left behind.”
Silence.
There was no retort, or any sound which could constitute a response. Blueblood just regarded her silently, with a blank expression and an emotion behind his eyes Twilight couldn’t place. It bore effortlessly into her soul. Something in her gut twisted as the rush of anger faded from the release, revealing something hidden beneath.
“Princess Twilight,” Blueblood started, “I believe I shall take my leave. You may do as you wish.” He turned to walk away, but looked back over his shoulder. “I just hope they show you the same kindness you showed me.”
She wanted to say something more, but the words just remained lodged in her throat as he walked away. All she could do was watch until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Even then, she starred; her thoughts were muddled and confused. She had expected something more: for Blueblood to put up a fight. Instead, he had just given up. It was almost as if...
The sounds of a strong trot towards her caught her ear, and she turned to face the new pony. Pain erupted from her cheek and stars filled her vision as a hoof caught her across her muzzle. She tumbled to the floor, her shoulder bearing the weight of the fall. It took a moment to realize someone was shouting.
“Get up!” came the roar of a familiar voice. It was one Twilight had heard many times before growing up, but she couldn’t place it over the ringing in her head. She struggled to her hooves, ready to give the stallion a piece of her mind. Yet, when she saw who it was, she could only numbly watch.
Onyx Chalice panted from the effort of the strike. “Twilight...” The butler’s face was flushed red, and he positively bristled. “I– I expected so much better of you. What gives you the right?” he spat in a hoarse whisper.
“I...” Twilight was at a loss. “You mean Blueblood?”
“No, Princess Celestia... Yes I mean Blueblood you daft sod-muncher!”
“Onyx, do you know what he did?”
“I don’t care what he did! You do not speak to him like that!”
It was one thing to hear somepony defending Blueblood, it was another for the defense to come from somepony she knew and trusted. Twilight felt her temper rise. “He claimed ownership of my work! He had no part in it, or any right to do so! He insisted that it was his in spite of the name on the reform! How was any of what I said unfitting?”
“Then why did he do it? Surely you must know why if you’ve said all that,” Onyx snapped.
“He’s not a good pony!” she cried. “You can scarcely read a magazine that even tangentially mentions him and not figure that out.”
He shook his head. “Are you any different than those rags that prattle on about him? I have worked here for thirty-two years now, Twilight, from before he was brought in as a colt. Not once have I ever seen one hint of this ‘vile legacy’ you claim.”
“My proposal is good, Onyx. If–”
“I don’t care if it was the next elements of harmony! You. Do not. Speak to him like that.” He reinforced the words with prods to her chest. Then, he spun on the spot and started to walk away. “Good day to you, Princess.”
Twilight stared after him long after he had disappeared. It didn’t make sense. Onyx was a good pony. Blueblood was not. So why was the former defending the latter? It didn’t make sense. It made no sense. The thoughts kept looping in her head, demanding her full attention and paralyzing her mind. She would have spent minutes frozen if the shout of a stallion hadn’t rattled her from her confusion.
“Princess Twilight! Princess Twilight!” Twilight turned to see a bright blue stallion trotting towards her. He wore a neat beige vest and saddlebags which were good repair, but clearly well used. A notepad and pencil floated before him in his magic field. “I was wondering if you had any comment on Blueblood’s proposal or the article from the Canterlot Chronicle?” He blinked, then frowned. “Princess Twilight, is everything alright?”
Twilight shook her head to clear her mind and forced a smile. “It’s fine. Just thinking is all. What was the question?” A distant part of her noted that members of the press weren’t allowed in this portion of the castle, but the warning flag went unnoticed.
“Blueblood just finished with his press conference, and I was hoping I could get a comment on his planned reforms.”
“Um... Sure,” Twilight said. She figured this would be as good a chance as any to nip this problem in the bud. “Did you have a specific portion in mind? Because I–”
He gave her no time to answer. “Great. Given your upbringing and education, some ponies suspect that you’d actually endorse the tribalist portions of the bill. Do you?”
She was nearly certain she had misheard him. “Trialist!” Twilight asked in utter shock. “I would never–”
The pencil scribbled as he heard what he let be heard. “Ok. Ok. And what about you own bill for education reform? Is it going well?”
“Well, yes. Would you–”
“What’s your own target for the bill? Would you say your taking a similar approach to Blueblood, or are you taking a more exhaustive approach to improve–”
“I’m sorry,” Twilight interrupted forcefully. “But could we back up for a moment? Who are you?”
“I’m with The Bulletin Report,” he said, smiling. “I’m here covering the press conference.”
The warning bells in her mind were audible this time; too many things weren’t adding up. “That wasn’t my question.”
“Well... You see...” he stammered. The strain for an answer was obvious. “It’s not like that. I’m still somewhat of a new face for interviews, and my boss recommended I lead with our company name rather than my own.” He reached for his bag. “Do you want my card? I understand if–”
“There he is!” came a shout.
He froze. His eyes looked past her down the hall. “Horsefeathers.”
Twilight spun about to see four guards galloping towards her. The newspony – now behind her – broke into a gallop, but made it all of four strides before being tackled to the ground by a pair of pegasi.
One of the guards stopped and snapped a salute. “Lieutenant Holly. Sorry, Princess,” the earth pony mare said. Under the disguise of the armour, she was almost indistinguishable from any other guardmare of the Solar Guard. “We didn’t notice him slipping away from the press group.”
“Is this normal?” Twilight asked, watching the guards who had tackled the newspony allowing him to rise. Though his ears were folded down, he seemed to be cooperating.
“More try than we would like. The punishment is rather light.”
“And that is?”
“We confiscate their possessions and allow them to retrieve them after two weeks. That, and review their pass.” As Holly spoke, Twilight watched the stallion pass over his notepad and bags to the guards on either side of them.
“I thought ponies who trespassed were detained for twenty-four hours.”
“Well, it was, but then we found out ponies were being paid overtime for sitting in a cell for getting the latest scoop. Prince Blueblood figured that retaining their written notes if they had a press pass would be more of a punishment with the news cycle what it is.” She turned to one of the guards who had tackled the newspony. “Ice, what did he have?”
The guard picked through the saddlebags, tossing out items for the unicorn guard to catch.“A press pass, a notebook with quotes from Prince Blueblood and Princess Twilight Sparkle, a newspaper, a few pads of paper with written notes, a scarf, pencils, pens... The usual.”
Holly nodded. “Good. You and Brem escort him to the evidence lockup. We’ll be down with his belongings once I’ve finished speaking with the Princess.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Is there anything else, Princess?” Holly asked, as the newspony was led away.
“No...” She trailed off as something caught her eye. On the front of the newspaper levitating in the grasp of the other guard there was a black and white picture of herself. “Actually, would you mind if I take a look at that newspaper for a minute?”
“Certainly princess.” Twilight took the offered newspaper. “Once you are done with it, give it to any guard with the instructions to bring it to the evidence lockup. I’ll make a note of it. Again, my apologies for not catching him sooner.”
Twilight waved goodbye to them, before unfolding the newspaper to read. It was a copy of the Canterlot Chronicles. The first page was dominated by an image of her waving from her castle’s balcony, and beneath it, a headline with some text. After years upon years of reading and studying, Twilight was a very fast reader. Yet, she needed ten seconds to read and comprehend the fourwords titling the article. She gasped in horror.
→ ↔ ←
Reinforcing the Status Quo,
For many months now, Equestria’s newest Princess has been the subject of discussion amongst many political observers. Princess Twilight Sparkle, to date, has taken only cerimonial or light duties in the government. While she had proven to be every bit the pony Princess Celestia claimed she was in this regard, her opinion and belief on heavier policy, such as finance, commerce and education, remained unknown.
Many ponies argued that Princess Twilight Sparkle would bring a wave of positive changes to Equestria, indicating her role as the Princess of Friendship and the many instances of saving our fair country from certain destruction as evidence. Others worried that her ideals would only serve to reinforce the status quo due to her upbringing. Sadly, it would seem the second smaller group is correct, at least by the education reform the Canterlot Chronicle acquired. This education reform would seek to improve the magical education of foals across Equestria, but falls dreadfully short.
Born and raised in Canterlot, Twilight Sparkle sought admission into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. She ended up not only passing the examination with flying colours, but became the personal student of Princess Celestia as a result. The education reform she authored reflects her upbringing, seeking to reinforce and further traditionalist magic teachings. While the precise nature and the consequences of the bill are further discussed on later pages, in summary, the bill is tribalist (Page 2), would suppress unconventional but accepted magical education (Page 2), would fail to aid foals in high population areas (Page 4), would fail to aid foals in poverty stricken districts (Page 5), and would only serve to further the extremes in magical education which we see today (Page 6). The full document can be read in its entirety through pages 10-15
To the many hoping for reform and progressive governance, it paints a worrying picture. For traditionalists, Princess Twilight is a welcome ally. Yet, in the absence of additional information, nothing can be certain, and what is thought now could turn out to be false in the future. Indeed, there are indications on the obtained bill that changes are yet to be made: annotations written between the lines These annotations are included on Page 7 of the document, and discussed on Page 8 and 9. If the annotations are the views of the princess, she may yet prove to be an ally to progress yet. As a developing story, we recommend all readers follow it through future issues.
→ ↔ ←
Ten minutes later Twilight’s tears were splattering the final page of the article, punctuating the notes written in the margins with pencil by the newspony . Twilight was utterly disgusted in herself. She had accused Blueblood of claiming ownership of her work for himself, and in that respect she wasn’t wrong, but there was the distinct possibility he had claimed ownership because of her. Her bill was about improving magical education of unicorn foals – foals like Sweetie Belle – in places similar to Ponyville. It had evolved with her additions and annotations, but never beyond its original form. Each page of rightful criticism the Canterlot Chronicle gave was completely true, and served to drive that truth home. So, Blueblood was either more of a fool than Twilight had previously thought, or she had attacked him for taking the fall for her. But either way, he had been right; she couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
Over the past few days, her eyes had been opened to different views shaped by experiences not her own. Even her family had shook her to the core with the knowledge of how different her life would have been if she had just failed an exam... Just a foalhood exam. The annotations Twilight had written between the lines were a reflection of those experiences, but they had not changed the heart of the bill. She had been so certain that the bill was going to work that she only thought she was missing some small fact or key number. As a result, she had never once considered if the scope of the problem actually extended beyond what she had declared it to be.
And Blueblood might be paying the price for her folly.
Twilight pounded a hoof on the door. “Blueblood, please!” She knocked on the door again, ignoring the stares of the few ponies who walked past. “I just want to talk to you!” But no answer came, only the dull thump of the wood underneath her hoof.
The words which comprised a language were powerful tools. They were the cornerstone of society – how knowledge was passed on and how ponies communicated with one another. Yet, it wasn’t the words she had spoken that had upset Twilight so, it was the emotion behind them: anger, and the doubt which had so rapidly followed. She would have answers for Blueblood actions, but if she was to have them, then there couldn’t be any doubt.
The crux of the issue was that she was not prepared to condemn Blueblood as irredeemable if there was any reason to think otherwise. He could have taken credit for her bill for himself, but he could have taken credit of it for her. She just wasn’t sure. As the Princess of Friendship she was supposed to bridge divides and reconcile differences. Even Discord, a literal god of chaos who was likely the most singular negative cataclysm to ever impact Equestria, had shown himself worthy of the effort. Declaring Blueblood to be irredeemable would have him sharing a pedestal reserved for the likes of Sombra or Tirek. Her anger was no excuse except for the fact she had used it as one.
But even with the possibility of there being something more to Blueblood’s actions, it did not excuse everything. For instance, his usual way with words left an impression of a mother slapping the hooves of cookie-stealing-foals. It was not a harsh rebuke that could be distinctly recognized as one, but a twisting of gentle words into one. It was patronizing in all the worst ways and hardly respectful of her title or, more importantly, simply her as a pony.
The first challenge would be getting to talk to Blueblood as if he was in there – she knew he was from a maid – he refused to respond. With a sigh, she sat with her back against the door and covered her eyes with her hooves.
Think... She needed to think. She needed a way to get answers from him. Her cheek dully throbbed all the while, repeating Onyx Chalice’s betrayal in time with her heartbeat. He was another pony she would have to have words with. Twilight had once seen the butler tear into a pony – whom had been every bit the pony she had believed Blueblood to be – with such fierce fire that they were crying by the time he was done. But to see Onyx come to the defense of Blueblood, it flew in the face of what she had believed. If–
“– Twilight?”
Twilight’s ears flicked forward, followed quickly by her head, as she realized somepony was speaking to her. Paprika and – she continued looking up – a diamond dog were both looking at her. After a moment she recognized the diamond dog as Spot, an Ambassador from the Seven Burrows.
Paprika eyed Twilight with concern. “Is everything alright?” She had a cardboard box balanced on her back.
Twilight smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
Inwardly the smile grew faker, but outwardly it appeared more real. “Positive. What were you and Ambassador Spot talking about?”
“Oh, well, Spot has been helping me make stuff for my experiment...” she trailed off and looked between the two of them. “You haven’t been introduced yet, have you?”
“I’ve sat in on meetings with Celestia where Spot was present, but no, I haven’t been.”
“Well...” Paprika puffed out her chest. “Spot, Twilight Sparkle. Twilight Sparkle, Spot.” She held the pose for a moment before she broke with a giggle. “There we go, all introduced.”
Spot was a lanky chestnut brown Diamond dog who stood as tall as Celestia on his hind legs. Or would have if his height wasn’t compromised by the slight hunched gait so common to the unusual bipeds. It was easy to see where his namesake came, a single white dot on his forehead, but just off to the side enough to be slightly irritating to those expecting symmetry. He wore a deep blue suit jacket: immaculately styled with golden accents and without a speck of dirt adorning it. Twilight tilted her head imperceptibly as his deep blue eyes found her.
“Oh, Spot haven’t met Pretty Purple Friendship Princess yet.”
The formal diamond dog greeting caught Twilight off guard. “Err... Likewise.”
He glanced down at himself, a twinkle in his eye. “I do not recall being a Pretty Friendship Princess... Or Purple.”
“What– Oh.” Twilight winced as she realized what he meant. “You are a Big Handsome Diamond Dog.” The words out of her mouth, she blushed when she realized how it sounded.
While Spot just grinned a little wider, Paprika broke into laughter. “Oh, so does our Princess have the hots for the ‘big handsome’ ambassador?”
The blush doubled. She was just trying to be polite, but her knowledge of Diamond Dog customs were lacking as was how those customs translated across languages. Maybe she should have made mention of his station instead. Or maybe it was Paprika just poking fun at her. Or both. “No, I–” She sighed. There was only one way this conversation would end. “You know, I think you’d get along with Pinkie and Rainbow just fine. So, was I interrupting anything?”
Paprika shrugged, nearly upsetting the box on her back. “Not really. I was just talking to Spot about my research. He’s been helping me with a few things.”
Twilight looked at Spot and cocked her head. “You’re a scientist too?”
Spot shook his head. “Tinkerer.”
“He’s been making some of my equipment,” Paprika explained. “Spot’s really good at creating complex shapes and surfaces. I’d be paying out the nose if I had some goldsmith make it for me.”
“So you make jewelry?” she asked.
He see-sawed a paw in approximation. “Sort of. Hobby.”
Paprika tipped the box towards Twilight. “Here, take a look. It’s awfully nifty.”
When Twilight peaked in, her jaw dropped. Rarity would have had a fit if she knew something as beautiful as this was to be used in a science experiment. There was clearly the spot to hold a shaped crystal the size of her hoof, but nothing else matched Twilight’s expectations. Six delicate brass arms extended to hold the cage for the power crystal split and swirled about the base in opposite directions. Twelve more gems, each little focusing gems the size of blueberries, were held in their arms supported by a spindly latticework of silvery metal. There was some sort of apparatus at the base, but that was a mess of gears beyond the comprehension of a single glance.
Paprika closed up the box, and picked with her forelegs. “And sorry to run off on you Princess, but I have to get going. I left an experiment running that might accidently sort of spontaneously... Explode, if I forget about it.”
Twilight shook herself from her awe, and grinned. She knew the joys of unwatched experiments all too well. “Don’t let me hold you up then.”
Paprika smiled, and darted away, quickly fluttering through the halls with the package.
“Princess like my work?” Spot asked.
Twilight turned to face Spot. “That was gorgeous.”
“Spot appreciates compliment.”
Twilight shook her head. “No Spot, it’s not just a compliment. I’ve seen ponies spend more bits on art that doesn’t even look quarter as elegant as that. Thousands and thousands of bits.”
He sheepishly ducked his head. “Just hobby, princess. Not uncommon, but there’s limitations.”
“Are all diamond dogs capable of that?”
“Metal work like that? With practice, yes.”
His words piqued her curiosity.“Forgive me for sounding ignorant, but metal work? Do you mean like smithing”
He held out his paws, palms up. The large blunt claw capping the end of each digit stood out prominently. “The magic to cut through rock and soil is in our claws,” he said. “It’s how we dig.”
“Could you explain it to me?” she asked.
“Would you prefer a demn...” his brow furrowed, “Demonstration?”
“That would be amazing if you could. But...” Twilight looked around the hall. The castle staff worked a little too well sometimes; there was not as much as a spoon left out of place. The only thing she could see was a two century old suit of armour, something a little too valuable just to satisfy her curiosity.
“Spot can handle it,” Spot said. He reached for a ball of metal at his belt, losing the cord with a swift tug from a claw, and held it flat between the pads of his paws. The ball was about twice the size of a chicken egg, but there was nothing special about it beyond – judging by the malted bronze colour – it being some sort of alloy.
There was a moment when Twilight wanted to ask what it was supposed to show, before Spot brought his palms together forcefully, flattening it into a plate shaped piece. Like freshly kneaded dough, he rolled it into a long tube before holding it gently at its middle. He crushed the bottom half till it was twice the thickness but half the length as before. With each turn, each shaping, Twilight had to remind herself it was metal he was working with.
He flipped it over and brought his claws to the thick section. Twilight’s eyes bulged when Spot started to peel it like a banana. Except, each time he pulled, he brought not a whole section of metal, but a piece whose tips he rolled between his digits to form petals which he curled back up. The first piece was a flat metallic grey, then a brilliant silver, then copper, gold...
Twilight’s eyes were full of wonder. “You’re separating the metals!”
Spot nodded, but didn’t answer any further. He worked around the tube quickly, pulling alternating metals from the solid shaft. When he had finished all the way around, he took the innermost petals, made of gold, and twisted them into one center point between his fingers. With a few more deft turns of his claw, he passed the flower to Twilight.
The entire process had taken less than five minutes.
She took it reverently, astonished by the delicacy of the work. It was a rose made of many different metals. Yet seconds earlier, she had seen him manipulating it like clay. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“If Princess likes, you can keep.” When she looked at him, she noticed his shoulders were drooping with the effort it had taken.
“What? Oh no, I couldn’t!”
“Those balls are just meant for training magic. Metal is very very soft and meant for it. Spot not that good either.”
Not that good? A thousand questions flowed unbidden into her mind. She silenced them till one remained: how much didn’t she know?It was easy to understand now why her proposal had been received so poorly: it was poorly wrought. Her idea had been founded on improving magical education of unicorns foals in Ponyville, and looking back on it, it never really evolved beyond that point. Even in her later annotations to the bill pending a second draft, it was the same fundamental concept at its core haphazardly modified to cover the other races.
“Twilight?” Spot said.
Twilight shook her head clear of her musings. There would be plenty of time for that later. She concentrated and teleported the flower to her room in a burst of purple sparkles.“Spot, would you be willing to talk more about magic later?”
He nodded. “Will try. However, I’m not much of a scholar.” He cocked his head. “ Is something else bothering Princess Twilight?”
She chuckled weakly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Like a pup trying to hide a torn pillow,” he said, “Acts like nothing is amiss, but feathers are everywhere.
“Blueblood... I...” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I messed up. I was so convinced I had Blueblood figured out that I couldn’t see what he was trying to tell me. It’s not like he was particularly polite about it,” she added quickly, “but still...”
Spot snorted, a sound that sounded halfway between a growl and a sneeze. “He’s far from blameless.”
“What do you mean?”
Spot tapped his ears. “Diamond dogs have very good ears. Prince Pony plays games well, but he doesn’t know when to stop.”
“Spot, what do you exactly do you mean by ‘game?’ ”
He regarded him with a look that she couldn’t place. “The game he believes his station requires of him. Why...” he trailed off and shook his head. “Come Princess, I think we both know what I mean.” Before she could protest, he reached past Twilight and rapped high on Blueblood’s door. “Prince Pony, it’s Spot!” he called. Spot turned to Twilight, and reached down for her hoof, while his other paw went to his vest’s pocket. Holding her foreleg up, he placed a plain gold... No, brass pocket watch into her hoof. He regarded her with a smile, turned and started strolling down the hall.
The door opened a crack.
“Spot, now’s not really the-” Blueblood froze at the sight of Twilight.
“I’m sor–” The glow of his magic around the door was Twilight’s only warning. She threw all her weight against the closing door, only managing to stop it before it could latch.
The door opened enough for a sliver a shadow to look out. “I think you said everything you had to.” His voice was scarce more than a whisper.
“I’m sorry Blueblood. I was wrong to–” She jerked back when the door shut forcefully. Ears lying flat against her head, she knocked again.
“What!” he snapped, leaving the door just wide enough to see a bloodshot eye.
Twilight held up the pocket watch. “Ambassador Spot wanted me to give this back to you.”
Blueblood hesitated. “Is that what he said?”
She examined her shuffling hooves closely. “I wasn’t really ready to talk to you. He insisted.”
There was a pause, a sigh, then the door opened. He levitated the offered watch.“That’s something the two of you share,” he said, walking back into his room towards his desk; the watch bobbing in the air behind him. “You both simply love to meddle.”
Twilight stepped into the room cautiously; the open door was an invitation but far from a verbal one. Where she had been expecting to see some hint of Blueblood’s personality reflected in how he kept his room, there was nothing. There weren’t even any baubles or small decor flourishes to make it more than what could be any other empty guest room at the castle. A bed, bookcases with generic titles, a desk, a carpet... It was all mundane, or as mundane as a room in the castle could be.
The prince himself sat himself at the desk, the tip of a quill dancing visibly over his shoulder. But whatever expression he wore was hidden.
“Blueblood, I want to apologize...”
“No you don’t.”
“I... Pardon?”
“You don’t want to apologize, you want to understand.” He scratched a line with the quill. “An apology is simply a tool for how you intend to get your explanation.”
That was certainly one way of putting it. “It’s not that you’re wrong, but... I do want to understand. In any case, I was still cruel with what I said whatever the reason was. That I did it without first understanding why only makes you more deserving of one. So, I’m sorry, Prince Blueblood.”
He finally turned, meeting her eyes for the first time since she had entered. Both were faintly red-rimmed and bloodshot. “Unlike elected officials, we – the royals of Equestria – are appointed into our positions by our peers. All the same, we still serve our subjects. It’s them who allow themselves to be ruled, and it is them we are supposed to represent.” He rose. “Who do you represent?”
“I–” Twilight hesitated. “I like to represent everypony if possible.”
An eyebrow rose. “Oh? So you’d like to represent ponies who wish to forbid non-equines from Equestria.”
“Well, no, but–”
“Then what about the warmongers? Ponies who think we should expand our lands by conquest?”
“No. Blueblood–”
“Then who do you–”
“Blueblood!” Twilight shouted. “Can you please stop talking down to me!” She took a few short breaths. “If anything, that’s what bothers me most about you.”
“I’m... Well...” He sighed. “I’m sorry Twilight. It comes too easy to me sometimes.”
“Thank you.” She took another breath to calm her nerves. “I’d like to speak for everypony, but I know it’s not realistic. Instead, I’d like to spread friendship and hope to be able to represent everypony, or everycreature, one day.”
“So, change.”
“Change?”
“You represent change to so many ponies. Change in the form of progress moving forward. I know it might not be apparent to you, but you speak from your heart and are remarkable honest, and that’s surprisingly rare in the government. Ponies look up to you and see somepony they’d trust to bring progress, and you act on that trust. That’s admirable.”
The clear praise struck Twilight as almost misplaced coming Blueblood’s lips. “Err... Thank you.”
“It’s also why I took credit for your bill. Ponies need you for what you are, not your mistakes.”
An inkling of a suspicion crept into her mind. “Who do you speak for Blueblood?”
“Well. If your change, Luna is tradition, Celestia is... Well many see her as almost a motherly figure so family I guess. Cadence is a little tricky, but speaking for love does make sense in a roundabout way.”
Twilight couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you’re stretching things a lot to try and make a point. It’s not what I would call them... But,” she said, sobering, “I noticed you didn’t answer my question.”
Blueblood sighed. “I represent whomever it’s the in the crown’s best interest to represent.”
“So, the rich snooty nobles... That’s in your best interest? I sincerely doubt that. I mean, have you even read what the newspapers say about you?”
“In the crown’s best interest, Twilight, not my own best interest.”
“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying...” Twilight let the words hang. “You better not be.”
“How is it wrong?”
“How is it wrong!” she cried. “Blueblood, how is it right?”
“Because some has to,” he snapped.
Her mouth flapped wordlessly. “I... What! Blueblood, are you really that full of yourself? Is your ego really that big? Do you seriously believe for a second that you’re the only one who can handle them in some manner, or that no one would help you if you asked? Celestia would help you in a heartbeat! As would Luna, Cadence, or... Or maybe even me for that matter.”
“I wouldn’t dream of subjecting you to this, I respect you far too much for that.”
Twilight frowned, then a realization struck her. The signs were there, she just hadn’t put them together. “Is that why you were crying?”
“Wh– I...” She could see the answer clear as the day as he strangled back the words.
“Blueblood, please.”
When he sighed, he deflated and practically sunk into his chair. His expression was flat, and the shallows of his eyes were dull. It was the most defeated she had ever seen him. “What do you want me to say? That you’re right?” he offered lamely.
“I don’t want you to say anything! The way you talk... there’s always a catch, some spin or hidden hook that I have to watch out for. Just for once, please, can you speak plainly?”
“About what?”
“This. Or to paraphrase Spot here ‘this game you play.’”
He didn’t reply; not immediately. He sighed. “Do you think I’m deaf? Twilight, I know what ponies think of me. I hear it all the time. From the moment I leave my room till I fall asleep. All the names, insults... If it weren’t for the scant respect I’ve curried, I would tell you they don’t even have the decency to say it out of earshot. But I’ve grown use of it. If it's for the better of others I can tolerate it.
“Now Celestia... She schemes and comes up with delightfully complex plans, but is always relying on other ponies as part of them. Very few ponies who don’t know me would ever want to help me, and those who see pass the veneer respect my requests. But you meddle. You’re not afraid to get your hooves dirty and work yourself to the bone if you feel something isn’t right. So when Celestia asked me to help you – something I very much did not want to do – I made sure you had a less than favorable opinion of me so that you’d never even think of helping me in return. It was the best way to continue my work, so I told myself that I could handle you saying those same things about.” He swallowed. “But I was wrong.”
“Then why couldn’t you simply tell me!” Twilight cried. “Why do you insist on this... this... Emotional whiplash? I still can’t even decide on whether you like, tolerate, or despise me!”
“It’s not that simple!” Blueblood shouted. “If somepony thought me your ally, it would reflect poorly on you.”
“So you admit it then.”
“I would sooner worship the ground you walk on then rebuke you; you’re everything I wish I could be. So yes, and in private I wouldn’t hesitate to admit so, but I’m not you and in the public’s eye I can’t be you. I need to be your rival. You’re the one hope this kingdom has for change, and if playing the villain guarantees your success then I can live this."
“And why can’t Celestia, Luna or Cadence help you? You’re not alone, Blueblood, you just have to let us help!”
He shook his head desperately. “They can’t. Celestia is stuck in the past. She tries so hard to move forward, but memories pull her back. And ponies hold her on such a pedestal that she can barely see the real world from her height. She struggles so desperately to keep up with the new, but it's like sand in her hooves. With time, Luna could, but she is still catching up and stuck observing the world. She has a good heart, but rumor and speculation hang over her head making ponies slow to offer help. Cadence... Raising a child, reintegrating the Crystal Empire, and bringing change to Equestria? No, there’s no way I could ask that of her. It is you. It has to be you.”
Twilight fell silent, thinking. “There’s one thing your missing, Blueblood.”
“And what’s that?”
“It won’t be me.”
Blueblood blinked. “What?”
“ You want me to bring change because of who I am, and in the same breath asking me to take advantage of you. You’re asking me to be a pony I’m not: a pony you’re pretending to be.” Blueblood stiffened as if struck, and Twilight continued. “I can’t speak for the future, but right now, this is who I am. I can’t help you with this.”
“You don’t have to help,” he replied, his ears folded. “You just have to let me act.”
“And just watch you do this to yourself?” she gestured to his current state. “No. So how can I help you? Not this... Act. You?”
“How can you when you just want to tear it all down?”
Twilight’s expression softened.“Blueblood...”
“Just... Look...” He sighed, then straightened. “Nevermind that,” he said with a shake of his head, “Did you at least figure out the problems with your education bill?”
It would have been so easy to press the point and ignore the redirect, but Twilight let it go. She understood him more in the past few minutes than she ever had. There was always later to grill him further. “I did.”
“And what about why there was a problem to start with?”
“My education bill was a product of my own experience and successes. The problem was I didn’t stop and think that what worked for me wouldn’t work for everyone. Ultimately, that even meant I focused too much on problems unique to unicorns.”
“Correct, but I would caution you on the last thing you said there. Just because a problem unique to unicorns now, doesn’t mean that it will never be for others. With magic, we only know what we know. However, we don’t know the limits of what magic is. I trust you recall Paprika’s experiment?”
She nodded. “By all accounts and purposes, true gravitational spells are thought to be near impossible. But that conclusion was a unicorn one, not a pegasus one.”
“If we extend the possibilities to pegasi, earth ponies, crystal ponies, bat ponies, ch–”
“Moorie,” Twilight interrupted.
Blueblood leaned back in his chair. “Bat ponies work fine.”
“It’s the proper name.”
“In their original tongue,” he countered. “Bat ponies is the more common term nowadays.”
“Many still do prefer to be called by that name.”
“I think we’re getting a little sidetracked, but I’m sure you understand the point I was trying to make. Why, Celestia even told me about the time you tried to figure out Pinkie... Pie, was it? Her pinkie sense.”
“I wasn’t able to tell if there was any magic or...” Twilight’s eyes widened. “All of the equipment I was using was for explored magic. If I were to analyze it on the basis of–”
“I’m not saying it is or isn’t, but perhaps a second look could tell you something more.”
The conversation died from that point, leaving Twilight to look around the room in thought of what to say next. It was spartan as the first glance had shown. The only thing lively was a small planter of red roses meticulously maintained, which brought a memory to her mind, an unpleasant one.
“Blueblood?”
“Hmm?” he hummed.
“There’s something which has always...”She trailed off and scuffed her hooves along the carpet. There was no way to bring up the account without souring the mood. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.” It would just be one more thing on the pile of things to ask Blueblood about. She cast about for something more to discuss. “So what exactly do you do in your free time?”
“Work.”
Twilight shook her head. “I’m not buying that. You’re a pony, not a machine.”
Blueblood groaned and dug his face into his hooves. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“This isn’t an interrogation. If you don’t want to answer–”
“Do you feel I owe you that?”
“Well– ” The response died on her lips before what would be a lie could fully form. No, lie wouldn’t quite be right either. The conversation they shared had awoken another possibility and the realization of it shocked her. She took a deep breath. “No, I don’t. I’m just asking as a friend.” His eyes widened. “I know your personal life is not something you’d like to share with everyone, but I’d like to know you better. Please, Blueblood.”
He met her gaze unblinking and expressionless. The seconds passed slowly, and Twilight could feel him trying to find even the slightest indication of a falsehood. Despite the pressure, she refused to look away.
Nearly a minute had passed before he sighed. “... Fine.” He rose from his seat, and strode towards a bookcase. He pulled a couple of books loose, and reached his hoof into the gap left open. There was a clicking sound the bookcase swung away from the wall, revealing a door behind it. Twilight realized that it was the same type of door which connected suites elsewhere in the castle. “Here we are then.”
