The earth pony colt sat, alone, at a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant. A carafe of water collected condensation beside him, and a basket of bread sat untouched at his other side.
He was handsome enough, she supposed, with a coat the color of ripened wheat and a deep orange mane. She had never been able to figure out why colts tended to have more understated colors, but there it was. Twilight called it ‘dimorphism’. With all the different ponies under her care, it could be hexamorphism. And then there was her sister, and Cadance, and herself... hepta?
Celestia tsked at herself. These word games weren’t resolving anything, and they certainly weren't helping her ponies. She stepped from behind the partition wall, nodded cordially to the maître d', and suddenly that wing of the restaurant was empty.
The colt, fidgeting with his silverware, flicked his ears in irritation. He looked up to discover why his surroundings had gone so quiet, and found himself staring at an approaching goddess. “Ah, uh, y-” he blurted, “y-.. y-”
“Your highness?” Celestia offered, smiling faintly.
“Yes. Yes, your highness!” The younger pony steadied himself with his hooves at the edge of the table. “Pardon my reaction, please. This is a surprise. I didn’t even know you were in Hoofington!”
“Just for the evening, Cinnamon.” She angled her head at the opposite seat. “May I?”
Cinnamon scrambled to his feet, and half-bowed in response. “I’d be honored. Yes. Please.”
The princess laughed to herself, and slid gracefully into the seat. Across from her, the nervous colt fell into his.
“To be frank,” he began, “I didn’t think you’d know my name, your highness. I certainly didn’t know who I’d be meeting.”
“Please, call me Celestia. I am not here in any formal capacity, but at the request of my sister. She’s in the process of resuming her role, and has asked that I address this issue in her stead."
The alicorn filled a water glass and glanced at her companion. He nodded, and she filled his as well. “I did not expect to see you here, either, Cinnamon. As for your name, your sister Foxglove owns the Canterlot apothecary, does she not? I have chatted with her from time to time about her practice, and she often speaks of you. Indeed, we’ve met once before, there.”
He nodded. “I remember it well, y—I mean, Celestia. Uh, have you eaten? Would you care to place an order?”
“Yes, that sounds like a good idea. We can chat while we wait for dinner to arrive.” She sipped her water and levitated a roll so that she could butter it.
“Yes, chat.” The colt peered through the empty restaurant, and waved down the waiter. “Yes. Well, about that. I’m a little in the dark about why I’m here. My parents said that they’d arranged a meeting with someone that they thought could do me some good, and my father let on later that it might help me square away some of my, er, romantic issues.”
The waiter arrived swiftly, presenting both diners with a menu and murmured greetings, and taking their drink orders. Cinnamon ordered a cider, and Celestia opted for tea. Within moments, he vanished again.
“Issues?” Celestia popped a piece of buttered bread into her mouth, and thought while chewing. Finally, she swallowed. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
Cinnamon played with his roll, but still hadn’t sampled it. “Well, it’s his phrasing.” He set it back down on his plate. “See, I’ve been a bit unlucky in love...”
“A bit?” she asked, remembering some of the conversations with Foxglove.
“Well, a lot.” He took a gulp from his water, then continued. “You see, I’ve had a number of dates, and a few girlfriends over the years, but nothing that’s lasted more than a month.”
She nodded, but paused to speak. The waiter had arrived to deliver their drinks, and take their orders.
Some friendly discussion on the house specials resulted in orders of breaded mushrooms, spinach quiche, and raspberry tortes. Just as soon as he had arrived, he was gone.
“Efficient service,” she commented in his wake. “But back to the conversation at hand—you want a longer relationship?”
“Well, yes,” he nodded, lifting the cider mug between his hooves. “I eventually want to settle down and raise a family.”
Celestia smiled to herself, but hid it behind her cup. “What do the mares say when they hear that?”
“Most of them vanish immediately.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it. I mean, I’m not stupid. I recognize the pattern: I tell them, they leave. The question is why.”
“Well, that could depend.” She took a sip, set her glass down, and tapped her hooves together thoughtfully. “When do you tell them?”
“Well, on our first or second date, usually. I’m in no rush, but I like to make sure my plans are clear.” He looked up and met her gaze, his head tilted slightly. “Why, do you think that’s a problem?”
“I’d say it could contribute.” She rested her hooves beneath the table and leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to conspiratorial tones. “You know, it might not be my place to say, but being so focused on the destination might just make the route inaccessible. You need to relax, and take your time.”
“Right. Relax.” He sipped his cider once more. “How long should that take?”
Celestia laughed softly, silver chimes sounding. “Oh, Cinnamon. I can see this might take quite some time.” She found it necessary to dab at her eyes with her napkin, and then set it back down.
“Listen, all that some young mares know is that they have their whole lives ahead of them. Your date? She might not know what she wants, and she might not know who she wants it with. You must be willing to let her make those decisions. If you tell her that you’ve got the whole thing planned out? She may just be scared away as all the other doors suddenly close.”
He shook his head slightly. “I don’t understand.”
Celestia leaned forward once more, and spoke plainly. “They might not want a long-term relationship.”
“Then... why date?” His innocence was refreshing, but frustrating.
“Because they don’t know that yet.” She spied the waiter returning out of the corner of her eye, laden with a tray. “By forcing them to make a decision so early?” She pushed herself back from table slightly. “They may never know.”
Cinnamon’s eyes brightened. “Ah.”
Moments later, a flurry of activity left the pair with their orders, refilled drinks, and a fresh basket of rolls. Again, murmured wishes of a pleasant meal were all that remained of the host. Dinner was served.
Celestia regarded the mushrooms before her, and speared one on her fork. “You’re a conscientious colt, Cinnamon. Caring. At the risk of consonance, kind.” Gesturing with the fork, she then popped the mushroom into her mouth. “Mmm. Very good.”
“As I was saying, though, your sister speaks highly of you, as do your friends, from what I recall of our conversations. My advice to you is this: stop looking for the mare of your dreams. Start looking for a friend.”
He suddenly looked very hopeful. “Well, I have a number of mare friends. Do you think...”
“No,” she replied firmly. Cinnamon’s ears drooped immediately, and she made an effort to temper her voice.
“I think you should just be a friend. If something blossoms from that on its own, wonderful. But the harder you try to make it happen, the less likely it will.” She speared another mushroom, but watched him for a moment. He nodded, and she popped it into her mouth.
“I think I see.” Cinnamon set to work slicing his quiche.
“I will have to get that recipe, I think,” Celestia commented, then continued on the subject at hand. “I admit, I am no expert on matters of the heart, but if you look at it logically you’ll see the truth of it.”
He nodded once more, set his fork down, and swallowed. “I thank you. Sincerely. And Celestia, for someone who is not an expert, you certainly have a very warm heart.”
The princess bowed her head in thanks. “That’s very kind to say.” She spied the torte, and levitated her plate closer. “Tell me, what has Foxglove been up to, lately?”
The subject changed several times that night. Dinner continued, and an hour later, two ponies laughed together as they left the restaurant. Cinnamon made an elaborate bow, Celestia nodded her head, and the two parted ways outside the front doors. Moments later, Celestia returned to Canterlot, but did not yet enter the palace.
Instead, she strolled the streets beneath the glittering stars, and made a few decisions. First, she’d ask Luna to send the ponies with issues on romance to Cadance—Cinnamon had been the fourth colt in need of a filly in as many weeks. Second, she’d send a letter to Cinnamon’s parents about the meeting. He had some odd ideas about marriage. Finally, she’d have to find the time to visit Foxglove.
It had been far too long, and she had to admit she missed the pleasures of dinner, drinks, dancing, and a beautiful mare.
