My name is Britannia, Captain of the Royal Equestrian Expeditionary Force, and a mother of one. Just like any mother does, I love my son, even if he is not my real son. Which is probably why seeing his room so empty like this is so hard. Was there really this much space in here? It feels like it was only yesterday I would find myself stepping on something sharp and telling my son to clean up after himself. Now all there is in here are three boxes in the middle of the room, labelled ‘clothes’, ‘literature’, and ‘work’.
It all started a week ago, after my son made an appearance at the Boston Tea Party, as I requested, and made a big scene. After picking a fight with Prince Blueblood and hurling a caviar platter into the face of Sir Fancypants, America retreated back to his room and refused to make an appearance for the rest of the night. After issuing several formal apologies and paying the fine for assaulting a Prince on my son’s behalf, I chased after my son to have a word with him about his behaviour.
“Honestly, when are you going to grow up and act your age?” I asked him. Looking back on it, I perhaps should have been easier on the boy, but I was still rather angry about the night’s events. “Do you have any idea how this incident is going to affect your future?”
“You mean your future, don’t you?” he asked from behind his bathroom door. “That’s all you care about, after all. ‘America, be a good boy and smile for the camera!’ ‘America, cancel your plans. I need you to sit with me and do nothing for thirty minutes!’”
His words hurt, but at the time they only served to fuel my building rage. “You know that I do all of that for you, America! You’re becoming a stallion now, though you certainly don’t act it, and you need to consider your future!”
“How can I, when it’s all planned out beforehoof?!” He opened the door suddenly, and his glaring eyes met mine. “I’m not a little colt anymore! I don’t need you keeping tabs on me all the time, telling me what to do, and who to meet!”
“Clearly you do, given your performance tonight.” He stormed past me and lay down on his bed, his back turned to me in defiant silence. “Do not ignore me, child! If you’re truly not a colt anymore, as you claim, then you should take responsibility for your actions!”
“Fine! I’ll go up to the Princess tomorrow morning and apologise. Happy?”
“That won’t be necessary, as I have already apologised on your behalf-”
He turned around and let out an undignified groan. “There! That’s what I mean! Stop pampering me already, and let me take care of myself for once!”
“I was-”
“I know, you were looking out for me! You’ve been doing that ever since you took me in!” He paused for a moment before averting his gaze from mine. “You’ve always looked out for me, and I’m grateful, I really am. But you won’t always be there for me, and… I just want to start being my own stallion already. I want to show you that I don’t need you running my life anymore, and that you can start to focus on your own life again.”
I was taken aback by this revelation. Was that really what was causing this drastic change in his behaviour? The night that my friend Italy found him in the street, when she was on her way to purchase some spices for an important dinner with the Princess, I offered to take in and raise the poor boy. I missed that dinner, and I have missed many other important dates and opportunities since that day, and many exciting expeditions… but I never regretted a single one.
Was that really the reason why he had acting that way?
…
No. I knew it wasn’t just that. He was turning twenty soon. Just as he said, he was no longer a colt. He was becoming an adult, and yet I was still asking him to tag along with me wherever I went. I was still making plans for him, and taking responsibility for his actions.
Even tonight, I ordered him to cancel his plans to ‘hang’ with his friends at the theatre in favour of this tea party. Whilst the latter was clearly more of value as far as his future and his social status were concerned, it was not my choice to make.
I knew what I had to do.
“Mother?” My son gives me a concerned look, and walks up to nuzzle me. “It’s okay, mum. I’m only going to be down the road.”
“I know.” I feel silly, shedding tears like this in front of my son. Even when I had been poisoned by the dreaded basilisk, I never once allowed my troops to see me cry. Now, I can’t stop it, no matter how hard I try. “I guess I just never made arrangements for when this day would come… I wish you luck in your ventures, America.”
He picks up his last three boxes with his magic and turns to leave the room. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I follow after him and stop as we reach the chariot waiting outside. “I’ll make you proud. You’ll see,” he says with a grin. “Hay, I might even become more powerful than you one day.”
I chuckle at his little joke… Although, it may not be a joke. I’ve seen the potential in this boy. And it would not surprise me in the least to one day see that happen.
With one final farewell, and a quick peck on the cheek to make him cringe, the chariot takes off, leading America to his new life, completely free from me, where unknown wonders are sure to await him.
