Whispers

"Hey, getting cold hooves again?" Silvermane muttered to the jittery colt at her side, nudging his shivering form when he refused to look up at her. Hardly the warmest of nights indeed, but it wasn't that. She frowned and looked to the dwindling line ahead; it was almost their turn, and he picked now to hesitate? "'Tis a... little late to back out now, dear. We talked about this, and thou didst agree rather wholly before."

"Nay, mother. I'll be fine," he replied in a shaky voice, knowing full well he sounded anything but. He continued to look away, in any direction but toward her inquisitive eyes, which certainly didn't help his case. "... I mean, I am fine."

"Yes, evidently so," she whispered with nil sincerity, tilting her head and arching an eyebrow at those empty words. All that confidence she'd watched... she'd helped him build, slowly and steadily, those past months? Gone. For whatever reason, it just wasn't there. This came as a surprise to the world-weary mare, for the boy's performance thus far had already evidenced his knack for 'fillychasing.'

Darn well should have, too. In her youth, she had been quite the fair catch herself if the proverbial line of colts who strove for her attention was any indication, and never once had to wrestle down an anxiety attack before going out with one. Had the allure been her looks? Hairstyle? That cute little eyelash flutter she had spent agonizing hours perfecting, only to use a grand total of twice?

All moot in her eyes. The boy was definitely her own, and wore all of her merits proudly whether he knew it or not. Plus, he had just that slightest dash of soft-spoken maturity, an appeal no doubt culled from his father - and one she'd had a major thing for back in the day.

In fact that weakness, along with a few smooth words and a fifth glass of champagne was pretty much the reason she had children.

An idea quickly came to mind as she shook her head to wipe the nostalgic grin off her face. The kid was upset about something, and what better way to coach it out than with a little prod? "... Tell me, kiddo. How many parties hast thou recently attended?"

"Two, this month past," Arcanus replied without thinking, sighing as he looked up at her. He'd been to at least a dozen since this whole ordeal began, but few of them merited more than a passing yawn. And besides, didn't she-? She'd proofread his reports to the princess, hoofpicked his entire wardrobe of formal attire and had even been his personal coach on the proper etiquette for 'fillychasing.' Of course she already knew. Yeah, expository banter to provoke reflection, nothing new there.

Silvermane nodded, gradually raising both eyebrows to imply... "Elaborate, please?"

"... The former," he drawled without a trace of enthusiasm, "Wedding of Sir Darkwater and Lady Flashsong. I learned not to drink the beer first, dancing is not for everypony, and..." he let that hang, but one look into his mother's eyes and the huge grin she was wearing made it clear there was no avoiding this. "Lady Flashsong's youngest sister, Lady Roselyn, doth wear lipstick in the flavour of iced coffee, and is an... aggressive kisser."

He found that with the memory, the giant smile on his mother's face had effectively spread to his own, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't suppress it. The benefit of hindsight really did let one laugh at even their most embarrassing memories. He took a moment to breathe deeply, carefully choosing his next words before beginning again.

"The latter, masquerade ball," he said, more jovially this time, "I wore a simple, hoof-crafted mask, adorned with silver plating and an emerald... and then a particularly drunk stallion mistook me for a filly." He looked away and shuffled uncomfortably, cursing the faint blush spreading across his cheeks and praying no one else heard that part. "After... escaping, I spent the rest of the evening alone, and departed soon after."

"And didst thou learn anything?" Silvermane asked. The persisting silence saw her throw on a guilty facade that might have been convincing, were it not for the little smirk. "... Well, aside from never again taking my advice on mask preference."

"That," Arcanus added with an equally unconvincing frown, "and that 'alluring little filly' is not a compliment I am particularly comfortable receiving."

"Nonsense, dear," Silvermane giggled. "It sounds most endearing. Kinda cute."

"Perhaps for you, madam. As it stands, stallions are decidedly not my... interest-"

"Neither was wine, ostensibly," she said, emphasising that last word with a sly wink. "Yet thou didst give that a shot."

"Madam," Arcanus muttered, becoming increasingly and uncomfortably aware of just how crowded the line was - and how many sets of ears were close enough to hear this. Also, did she really have to mix formal and colloquial speech mid-sentence? "Two things. There is a reason I drank wine with her highness, and I have certainly not developed a fondness for it. And... might I ask exactly what are ye implying?"

"Nothing, dear," she chuckled, covering it with a cough when the boy's eyes showed no sign of amusement. "Nothing! Just loosening thy nerves. So, didst thou at least have fun?"

"I..." Arcanus began, taking the time to convince himself of the fact before working that magic on the mare who knew him best. It wasn't hard. He knew it all too well - as awkward as those nights had been, they had been an incredible learning experience. Uncomfortable? Yes. Pushed the comfort zone? Yes. Kinda... fun? Heck yes. "I enjoyed myself, indeed."

"Then what art thou so worried about? What is so different about tonight? Is it not just like all the others?"

Just like all the others, Arcanus went over the words in his mind as if trying to find a fault he already knew was there. Sure, it was nice that some confidence had been talked into him, but he had to ask himself a question: did his old mother even remember where they were? Just like all the others, indeed... if not for the minor fact that it was a high profile debutante ball, not just some aimless party where all the colts went to drink.

Tonight was to be the unveiling of Lady Stella of the House of Artois - heiress to an established and respected family among the gentry and peerage alike. Guests were only admitted by personal invitation, which his mother had conveniently arranged. Without her, he wouldn't even be on the guest list.

"Talk to me, kiddo," Silvermane prodded. Even in the darkness of the starry night sky, she could see the tell-tale signs of her son's analytical mind going to work - focused eyes, rigid stance, and staring blankly at the moon for whatever reason.

Arcanus watched in silence, as the dull patch etched onto its surface - the lunar sea - echoed its tragic story. The story that should never have happened, and the fall of a mare who deserved better. Disgraced, defeated, and imprisoned to bear the ravishings of time upon her body, soul and public image. Hard to believe that was already three months past, but such was the passage of time.

He returned his gaze to his mother, watching as she stepped forward to introduce herself to the doorman. As was the case with all those held in widespread esteem, from gods to mortals, respect brought rumour and with that came conflicting rumour. The fair lady Stella was famously inconstant among the upper class youth, with others arguing that she was merely indecisive and restless, and thus appeared picky. Others still decried both camps as petty gossip spreaders.

The point was, Arcanus had to concede his apprehension toward sharing a building let alone the dance floor with the illustrious - and as of tonight, eligible - Lady Stella. As he recalled, she had opted to attend her own debutante without a partner, which awkwardly conformed to both rumours while confirming neither. Heck, his own feelings for her were one big question mark. He didn't know what to believe. He hadn't even met her yet!

Tonight, for better or worse, that could very well change.

Silvermane turned back to him, noticing he'd come down off his star-gazing high. Oblivious to her son's internal monologue, she decided a little teasing was in order. "Finished? Thinking about Lady Stella, I take? I'll bet she's a looker."

"Nay, mother..." he argued half-heartedly as the blush returned in all its unwanted glory. "Besides, I have yet to even see the lady."

"Such is the appeal, dear. Surely, thou wouldst wonder whether or not she is cute?" she... well, stated a little too flatly to really count as a question, knowing all too well she was right. Her son, the cutie mark-powered super speed reader, was himself an open book before her.

Arcanus looked to the floor. He certainly was wondering whether or not she was cute. In fact, on every conscious level he was mixing and matching various combinations of eye colour, mane styling and body shape, and the possibilities did little but psyche his expectations further. Denile was futile.

"Chin up now, dear," Silvermane said, literally encouraging it with a hoof. "Thou hast conducted thyself most becomingly, and of that, I am proud." She motioned for him to follow as the doorman ushered them inside the manor. Slipping into a jarringly informal tone, she added: "Now, get in there and sweep the fillies off their hooves. Remember, thine old mother's watching, so put on a show for these old eyes."

"Very well," he muttered, unconsciously following behind and completely disregarding her... odd phrasing. No more worrying about tonight. She was right. He would get in there, drink a beer or two, and enjoy himself - whatever happened! Still, one unresolved matter nagged at the back of his mind... "One thing, though?" His mother nodded. With little more than a smile and raised eyebrow, he asked the most obvious of questions: "... 'Kiddo?'"

*******

"Introducing the fair Lady Silvermane and her eldest son, Sir Arcanus."

Arcanus looked around in wonder, coming up behind his mother and the usher as the three entered the massive hall. Thick cylindrical columns in a jet black pigment lined the walls, the chessboard pattern of the floor alternating between a rustic combination of deep orange and polished brass. Four crystal chandeliers hung high above the hall, enchanted flames within bathing the room beneath in a hot silver glow. He could already feel the warm air, thick with the scent of so many ponies, cling to his coat as the sound of indistinguishably mixed chatter filled his ears.

"Wouldst thou look at that," Silvermane said unspecifically, as more of a voiced thought than actual address. She breathed deeply and revelled in the glamorous atmosphere, letting memories of her youth spring to the surface. She wasn't that old yet, was she? "Hey, check it out," she whispered, motioning across the dance floor to two unicorn fillies who seemed to have taken a spontaneous interest in her son. "Just in the door and already turning heads."

Arcanus followed her hoof toward the two figures, squinting as he adjusted to the light. He rolled his eyes, but kept good humour and returned the girls' smiles with a nod of his own. One wore a deep green coat complimented by an ocean blue mane and black eyes. The other shone with a scarlet coat and sported an unstyled, lengthy crimson mane that flowed almost to the floor. "Mother, those are my friends."

"Then what art thou waiting for? 'Twould be a thoughtful conceit to introduce us, would it not?" she followed up smoothly, immediately dragging Arcanus across the door toward the girls. "Forgive me, young dears. I am told ye are both friends to my son here?"

"We sure are! Name's Moonthistle-" the green filly chirped, winking at Arcanus for effect. The red girl roughly jabbed her with a hoof and leaned in close to whisper sharply in her ear, most of which Arcanus failed to make out besides the occasional 'Lady Silvermane' and 'darned airling.' "I, uh... I mean, 'tis an honour, Lady Silvermane."

"Thou soundest a most vibrant young lady, Moonthistle," Silvermane laughed with an air of nostalgia, before turning to the other girl. "And thou wouldst be?"

"Aurora of the House of Borealis," the scarlet filly said with impeccable formality and a flawless bow, as if addressing the princesses- princess, herself.

"Lady Borealis, the baroness?" Silvermane mused, signalling the polite young lady to rise. "... Mother of the famous knight and bodyguard, Lady Belphegor?"

"Indeed," Aurora said, with a modest nod to hide the slight scowl. Her flat tone was neutral, almost mechanical, the kind one would descend into after retelling the same story to twenty different people. As usual, her sister got the spotlight. "My sister's reputation doth precede her. She hath indeed made a becoming name for herself."

"No doubt so, but if hearsay proves trustworthy, then thou art no slouch thyself," Silvermane said coolly, quickly throwing on a tactful smile. This girl's golden eyes told a tale, and as a mother of three boys with the eldest harbouring an obsessive desire to be better than the others, she knew all too well what that tale was. "Thou wouldst be the famed Red Mare, with the fastest gallop in the kingdom."

"I am humbled, but fear I can no longer perform to that level, my lady," she admitted, despite her lithe form looking no worse for wear in Silvermane's eyes. The older mare opted to quietly concede the point; the little smile the younger girl was wearing was a dead giveaway on its own that the compliment hit all the way home. "'Twas a long time ago, and my priorities in life have since shifted in favour of a decidedly more... intellectual career."

"So, ye study magic under the tutelage of her highness, alongside my son here? Then what matter doth bring you here tonight?"

It was a safe bet, as until recently the eldest son of Silvermane had expressed approximately zero interest in venturing beyond the confines of his study and out into the social world. In fact, the only reason he'd even done so at all was by royal order. Of course, not that it hadn't been hilarious to watch him freak out in delight after his first taste of life - like a foal adamantly refusing to try the strawberry custard, then one day caving in and falling in love with it on the spot.

Regardless, that was rather off track. His tutelage under the princess was his only real exposure to other ponies, so if he'd met these girls anywhere, it would have been there.

"Indeed, we do-" Aurora began, as a unicorn waiter picked that moment to approach with a table balanced precariously before him. "Oh, ye are most generous. A drink?"

"Figures, only wine..." Arcanus grumbled as he sniffed at the glasses, but nonetheless plucked two from the floating tray and passed one to his mother. Moonthistle shook her head with a grin and instead began to rummage through her saddlebag.

"In answer to your question, Lady Silvermane," Aurora said, sipping modestly from her glass. "We do indeed research magic under Princess Celestia's guidance. In fact, our special talents all compliment the field most conveniently..." she trailed, motioning toward her cutie mark - a single band of white flames coiled around into a figure-eight pattern.

"And as for why we're here, just having a few drinks," Moonthistle quipped innocently without looking up, "Couple of laughs, maybe fish up a colt or two..."

"Ahem," Aurora forcibly cleared her throat, sparing Silvermane a polite smile even as the older mare giggled and waved it off. "Address the lady properly, 'thistle." The rant she had worked up derailed spectacularly, as the forest coated filly's obliviously unabated search brought a far more pertinent point into question. "... Why did ye bring that saddle bag to a debutante ball of all places anyway?"

Moonthistle at last broke away from her bag, with a beer bottle and opener grasped firmly in her jaw and a look of triumph in her eyes. She quickly seized both objects with her magic, deadpanning at Aurora. "To carry these, duh."

Aurora placed her hoof upon the bag and rustled it a bit, frowning at the resulting dishevelled chorus of metal shuffling against metal. "Soundeth rather more like a toolbox to me..."

Moonthistle grinned sheepishly. "... 'Kay, a tad more. Ever find thyself thinking 'gosh, this'd be so much easier if I had a screwdriver?'" That grin twisted into a gleeful smirk, as though she'd just discovered an unknown land. "I made a list."

"Prithee, Lady Silvermane," Aurora appealed needlessly, bowing her head and missing the elder mare's obviously unoffended smile. "Forgive my acquaintance, for she hath all the tact and sense of an inebriated rabid bear. We are here to honour and bless the emergence of Lady Stella in a respectful manner. A glass... or two of wine may be complimentary, but we are decidedly not in the habit of 'fishing.'"

A sense of nostalgia crept into Silvermane's smile as she saw so much of herself in these fillies and their light-hearted bickering. They were practically a two-stop trip down memory lane, a sort of hypothetical "past me versus even further past me" scenario. On one side - the uptight, ostentatious aristocrat she once was. What she was raised to be. On the other - the easygoing funlover she eventually became. What she grew up to be.

Honestly? Although she'd never admit it, because bless this poor girl, she was trying so hard, she really did prefer the laidback demeanour of Moonthistle to the obsequious flattery of Aurora. She found it more endearing and, ironically, more respectful. It felt like she was being addressed on a personal level by someone who cared, rather than as just another elite by someone who feared or was told to blindly respect.

Some ponies in their world wore monocles, boasted expensive tailored attire and/or spoke in an eloquent 'the-world-is-too-boring-for-me' drawl, but that didn't matter. Deep down, they were all ponies. Some just had rich parents.

"It is most fine, dear. It soundeth as though ye are here for much the same reason we are," she said, watching as Moonthistle popped the lid from her beer bottle and wasted no time tossing it back. Subtle as it was, she caught the affectionate smile the girls would occasionally share, or the fact that their eyes held no signs of genuine malice. Despite their seemingly habitual verbal playfighting and humorously contrasting personalities, one thing was certain.

Only the very best of friends. Not a trace of actual hostility to their bickering at all, even if the two didn't fully know it. It was the stable 'truce' she sorely wished her children could ease into. Now, to make Arcanus and Prism - and in time, young Locke - appreciate that.

"Well, I believe I have hogged your attention long enough as it is, and I'm sure y'all have some catching up to do," she concluded, winking at her quiet and rather isolated son, "so I'm gonna go mingle. Well met, fair Aurora and Moonthistle. Do call me if thou dost need me, kiddo."

"So... how's it going, 'canus?" Moonthistle teased with a sly smirk just after Silvermane was out of earshot. "Been up to much?"

"Indeed, dear," Aurora added, pincering the apprehensive colt from the other side both literally and figuratively as he shied away. "We have scarcely heard a word from you, in... what is it, going on two weeks now? What have you been doing?"

"I, well..." he fumbled, sipping from his drink again to stall for time while he formulated an explanation that would do his absurd predicament justice. The taste of wine in exchange for another ten seconds to think? Good trade. "After the final exam, her highness pulled me aside and requested I... take some time to myself to..." his mind raced to come up with the right words, "... conduct intensive research-"

"To study love, we know. Her highness hath already informed us," Aurora said offhandedly. "That would be what your mother meant by 'the same reason we are.' It soundeth a busy curriculum, indeed," she added sarcastically.

Arcanus raised an eyebrow at the envious vibe, and in the moment, actually felt the urge to stand up for himself for a change. "I would hardly deem it a simple task, Aurora. Two ponies do not just meet and fall in love, save for in particularly unimaginative narrative. Due to this, and other..." he looked away, "... circumstances, I have yet to meet with much luck."

"Can't see why, silly colt. Don't forget, thou art quite the cutie," Moonthistle mused before Aurora could say anything, deadpanning at Arcanus like a teacher would a grown stallion who had forgotten his times tables. She leaned back to indulge herself in another mouthful of beer, making a point to slowly trace her tongue around the bottleneck suggestively.

Arcanus merely smiled and avoided taking that bait. Moonthistle was no doubt an... attractive young lady who professed great interest in him, and she represented an instant out to this little game the princess had thrown at him, but... no. He would not entertain the idea of courting a close friend.

"Arcanus?" Aurora cut in, drawing both their attentions back to her. "Love needeth not be a complicated matter. To be honest, I would consider attempting to 'research' its inner workings a fruitless and superfluous endeavour..."

"Heh, inner workings..." Moonthistle quipped childishly. "Phrasing-"

"We talked about this, 'thistle. Devise your own jokes," the scarlet mare chided smoothly like it was part of what she was already intending to say. "As I was saying, Arcanus. In spite of my feelings, and your apparent lack of romantic... prowess, your mother believed in you enough to let you try a hoof at Lady Stella."

Arcanus opened his mouth to reply, to call that out as being obvious, but... his mind went to busy work and no sound came out. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it actually was possible that the location and occasion of this party was mere coincidence. After all, his mother's words were far from forgotten: "Just like all the others."

Was he actually here to go for one of the highest profile eligible fillies in recent years, or was it just another party with dozens of fillies he could choose from? Outlandish and ridiculous as it was, the former was more likely. His crazy old mother would be the type to reason that the solution for his lack of success was to raise the bar. The real question was... was it crazy enough to work?

"So, my ladies..." Arcanus began, putting those thoughts aside for the moment, "Might I ask what ye two have been doing in my absence? How fair your studies?"

"Not the best," Aurora admitted immediately with guilt-ridden eyes, having abandoned her uptight demeanour of earlier. It was the look of a filly put on the spot about their overdue homework. "We have an interpretive essay due at next convention, and here I am doping up on wine when I could be putting some serious thought into it. How did ye talk me into this, Moonthistle?"

"Relax, silly. That's the end of the week," Moonthistle assured somewhat smugly, jingling her beer to accentuate the point. "Thou art here to loosen up and enjoy thyself. Introduce thyself to a colt... or filly, if that's thy thing."

Aurora prepared to scoff at the notion when Arcanus pre-empted her. "Free topic choice, or didst her highness assign to you a prompt?"

"A vague topic to say the least - the history of magic," Aurora confirmed, "I opted to focus on unicorn magic and its impact on the economy, specifically that of agriculture. Seeing as how we can replicate and automate area-wide labour. Lord General Ixion's writings on the subject provide a deep and well-informed perspective..."

'Tis a flattering way to describe 'closed-minded unicorn supremacy,' Arcanus figured in closed mental quarters, wisely keeping it that way.

Lord General Ixion - the Duke of Canterlot, Commander of the Royal Canterlot Military, and a damn near giant of a stallion widely considered the most powerful pony alive short of the alicorn sisters. He was famous for his strict disciplinary practices and high expectations of his subordinates, and equally infamous for his reputed disdain for non-unicorns.

"Meanwhile, I just went with something awesome," Moonthistle said plainly as though the ability to harvest an entire crop at once or enchant a self-winding clock wasn't fantastic enough for her. Evidently, it wasn't. "At first, I wanted to write about the Eight Dragons of Tartarus-"

"What's there to say about those beasts, dear?" Aurora said. "I think her highness is looking for a rather more mature outlook on this, as opposed to... fodder for the villains in some colt's comicbook."

"-which is exactly why I didn't!" Moonthistle finished without missing a beat. "They don't really affect us, so I'm stumped. Any ideas, 'canus? ... 'canus?"

Arcanus didn't hear her, or if he did, mere words failed him. His mind was being spoken to in a voice that transcended language, rendering him a blankly staring fool as he gazed intently toward a small crowd that had just entered the hall. More specifically, his attention was held by the petite, incredibly cute pegasus filly in the simple golden dress. She enticed him the way a naked flame would a drunk moth, rendering everything else in a hall little more than a blank silhouette.

"So that's what she looketh like? Cute," Moonthistle said knowingly, giving an appreciative whistle "Think loverboy's seen her, too?"

Arcanus's mouth flapped up and down as he fought to find his voice. He had a pretty good idea who 'she' was, but he had to know for sure. "W-who..."

"I would presume as such," Aurora replied to Moonthistle, ignoring Arcanus's question. She was enjoying this just as much as her mischievous friend. The two came up on either side of the enamoured colt, each placing a hoof on his shoulder and urging him onward. "That would be Lady Stella. Now, do be a gentlecolt, would you?"

"I..." whatever words had Arcanus beyond that were gone, as his eyes spoke far greater volumes about where his mind was as they roamed the girl's lithe form and appreciated every last detail. Deep blue, extremely well-kept coat... thick violet mane sculted into place by a gold band, hanging heavily over the right side of her face to expose a perfect view from the left... and alluring, yellow eyes.

Aye, he had seen gorgeous filles and mares - and, dare he say it, some colts - but this one seemed... different. A cut above the rest. The jewel in the crown of thorns. He loathed to use the word, but... special. He had to meet her! The rational side of his mind - that condescendingly cynical voice of reason - fought tooth and nail to point out how presumptuous, idealistic and downright cliche the notion was.

And, for once, he tuned that voice out. If love at first sight was unimaginative, then the hay with imagination!

"... Talk to her?" he mumbled incoherently, as his mind caught up with the reality. And, predictably, all his self-conscious thoughts and critique made themselves apparent once again. Meeting her would involve taking the initiative to talk to her, and that just wasn't going to happen. A girl like that could have anypony she wanted in that entire hall, and how could he compete with that? What would they have in common? What would he say? Going by the rumours, she was everything he was not - social, outgoing, accustomed, relaxed and carefree. "I... do not think I should..."

“Exactly. Do not think, just do. We never know unless we try,” Aurora interjected in answer to his thoughts . “As a lady myself, I can freely admit that we find a certain... endearment to the soft-spoken politeness of a true gentlecolt. Conduct yourself with strict pace, think before you speak, and that society girl will be nothing short of enamoured.”

“Without the superfluous prose,” Moonthistle muttered, never one to mince words, “-that meaneth ‘get over there and say a few charmingly awkward words and she’ll be all over thee.’ Better hurry up, though. She might not be alone over there forever,” she added as mock incentive, the suggestive tone and sly wink by no means going unnoticed. “I know I’d go there. In fact, if thou art not going to, perhaps I should..?”

Aurora glared at her.

“Kidding!" Moonthistle raised her forehooves defensively, before clearing her throat and striking an oddly heroic post. "This is thy night, ‘canus. Whatever thou dost choose, we are behind thee ‘til the end.”

Aurora raised an eyebrow. “What a... remarkably lucid thought to have come from thee, ‘thistle...”

“Full eight hours of sleep, silly,” Moonthistle said, poking her tongue out and dropping the pose. She regarded Arcanus for a few seconds, watching him stare off into the distance. "Stalling? We know thou hast already made up thy mind, anyway."

Arcanus sighed, but covered it with a self-therapeutic laugh... and then a real smile. Heh, they knew him too well. The slight furrow in his brow, coupled with his intense yet blank stare at nothing in particular, were the signs of his mind going to work. His fault for being predictable though, but he knew they were right. He would always have these two and their amusingly conflicting expressions of encouragement to fall back on, and now he appreciated the moral support more than ever.

With an overly dramatic deep breath, he rose a hoof to signal another waiter while rolling his neck back and forth to psyche himself up and loosen any remaining doubts. One more glass of... ych, wine would be another concession to make for the greater good. Worst case - he went home emptyhoofed, no different to when he first walked into that hall. Best case..?

*******

"M-Madam..."

Lady Silvermane - respected, honored, and darned tired mistress of the manor, found her concentration broken as that slurred word reached her ears, accompanied by a hymn of what sounded like lazy shuffling. With a smile, she removed her monocle and quickly filed her place with a marker before retiring the book to the table. Although she already knew who it was, a single look to the door confirmed it: swaying back and forth with a stupid drunken grin and glazed over eyes was her eldest boy.

"Star of the night hast returned in one piece. How faireth thine evening?" She had made her own modest departure from the party hours ago, after having met a whole ensemble of the peerage including aforementioned Ladies Borealis and Belphegor.

The inebriated colt briefly returned her smile with a mock salute, before staggering toward the smaller of the two couches and folding himself unceremoniously - known less formally as face planting - over the lime green cushions.

"... Over the moon, huh?"

"Nay..." Arcanus responded listlessly, voice muffled by the squishy velvet enveloping his muzzle and thus sounding more like a yawn echoing down a wind tunnel. "But... over the... the couch soundeth a better idea..."

"I am sure it no doubt must," she said with a quiet sigh. The boy was halfway plastered, and pretty much unreadable. The smile he'd been wearing - and may still have been wearing, if his face wasn't obscured - didn't necessarily mean he'd scored big, flopped, or anything in-between. However, there was an air of solemn dejection on the proverbial breeze, and his incoherent mumbling was clearing up exactly zero.

She looked to the little table next to her own couch, sliding the slightly bloodied handkerchief aside to seize the water glass - which thankfully still had a little water in it. Night Watch had talked her into keeping one nearby if she was going to insist on sweating herself half to death next to the fire while reading. Besides, everypony knew staying hydrated before bed was important, doubly so if your son had replaced half his blood with liquor.

Fighting the pain and laziness, Arcanus forced his stiff neck just high enough to see why she was nudging him. He still had that out-of-it grin on his face, and that immediately got Silvermane thinking - was he drunk to the point of blatant idiocy, or was he only just drunk enough to be really happy about something? Either way, the boy regarded the water the way a near-drowning victim would air, and quickly went to work. A good sign no matter what.

"So, might I ask why thou hast rendered thyself in such a state?" she nigh demanded, the formal and stern choice of wording coming across more like an interrogation. She sighed and closed her eyes. Really drunk and upset, or slightly drunk and exhilarated? She rephrased: "I mean, why art thou drunk?"

"Girls."

"Girls," she repeated, like that explained anything. "Might I ask which girls these would be?"

"Ye know. The girls," he clarified, surrendering his unsteady grip on the empty glass as his mother took it from him. "I had a drink, or... I forget, with the girls."

"Right, of course. Moonthistle and Aurora," she nodded, at least somewhat relieved. One part of her mind didn't feel comfortable with her poor, impressionable little boy getting drunk and who knew what else with a bunch of shallow wealth chasers or harlots. But, speaking of consorting with the female collective... "Moonthistle's a lovely girl, isn't she?"

"Not going there, mother... too weird." Arcanus waved a hoof at the insinuation. Had he considered it once? Absolutely. In fact, the first time he'd seen her following his royal charge, his eyes had bugged out like he'd never seen her before. The awakened possibility of romance in his mind somehow completely altered how he perceived her. But, that was before they had actually become friends, and since then his fleeting attraction to her had done what most fleeting things did - disappear. "She would, though."

"Fair enough," Silvermane conceded with a laugh. "So, didst thou meet Lady Stella, or another girl that captured thine interest? ... I mean interest, interest?" she teased, making no effort to hide her gossiper's grin.

With no sense of shame or modesty, and with the most hilariously goofy smile, Arcanus dreamily whispered one word: "Stella..."

"Bingo!" Silvermane chuckled, flexing her forehoof out and quickly snapping it back in. It was a technique she had picked up from her youngest son's repertoire of popular youth expressions, tricks and witticisms - known colloquially as the 'hoof pump.' "So thou didst meet her?"

Arcanus looked at her directly, still smiling but with an oddly... distant, somewhat serious look in his eyes. This odd combination of expressions made the internal paradox clear - he was modest about the story, but obviously wanted to talk about it. "One could say that..."

*******

Arcanus cautiously approached the pegasus girl, carefully working his way around into her line of sight as though she were an irascible beast. He sighed internally as the group around her picked that moment to disperse - as a girl's friends always did. Unspoken phenomenon as it was, he found it an awkward mix of blessing and curse. It not only made getting her alone a breeze, but also robbed him of his last excuse to retreat if his nerves went south.

Still, it was now or never. Never before had Arcanus felt more self-concious - at least, not since his first meeting with Princess Celestia. Still, he ignored that, and edged in just close enough that she could hear him over the obfuscating ambiance of the party... "M-my fair lady... may I ask of thee for thy name?"

She turned her gaze on him in an instant, smiling warmly... and somewhat flirtatiously. Her gaze darted back and forth across his body, never once settling on anything but his eyes after she'd had her fill of whatever it was she was assessing. "... Stella," she said with a subtle nod, even forgoing her title and with nary a trace of that stuck-up nobility girls of her station often had. "Haven't seen thee around here, before. I like that."

Just past introductions, and already at a loss for words. Arcanus mentally kicked himself. Ironically, her voice being as sweet as he'd imagined had caught him off-guard. It had all the makings of a royal, but there was a certain undertone to it. Perhaps strength, or confidence, as though she was no stranger to... well, strangers hitting on her?

Still, the most amazing girl in the universe had just addressed him, and he had to remember how to speak again - and fast. "I... tend to keep to myself." Good. Stick to the truth, and keep it simple. He could get through this. A few deep breaths couldn't hurt either. "I... usually do not commit to such occasions as this, but tonight I made an exception."

*******

"Laying it on thick," Silvermane whistled, but obviously as proud as any teacher would be of their student's progress and initiative. She had settled down again, and was lounging lazily on her cushion awaiting the continuation of a tale she knew was building up to something. "Though, I would have added something... direct, yet charmingly dopey. Like, say... 'I am not disappointed by what I see.' Thy father roped me in with that one."

"Well..." Arcanus led her on with a knowing smirk. His vocabulary and ability to form a coherent sentence had returned to him quite easily, and any evidence he was depressed or upset about anything had vanished. His mother's more hopeful theory had proven true - he was happy about something, and the proof was right there in the story.

*******

"I see it was an exception worth making," he added. Even as she giggled, he regretted it the moment it was out there. Something about it at the time just seemed so cheesy, he wouldn't be surprised if she just excused herself with a false smile of regret and sought a sharper colt more attuned to social subtext elsewhere.

Which, of course, wasn't what happened at all.

"Oh, thou dost flatter me," she giggled, waving off this colt's cute sense of forwardness as they shared a 'we-both-know-it's-true' look. She then abandoned the regal articulation and switched to one more befitting of a commoner. "So, whaddya do?"

Arcanus cleared his throat and, with every ounce of willpower he had to keep his nerves in check, bowed modestly: "Discuss it over a drink, if it would interest thee?"

*******

"Sly colt," Silvermane muttered intentionally loud enough to be heard. "Get the young lady tipsy, and-"

"Nay!" Arcanus shook his head in mock outrage the suggestion he would be so dishonourable... and succumbing to the faint flush in his cheeks. "'Twas not the intention at all-"

"But thou dost not deny something happened..?" Silvermane pried further.

"... I'm getting to that," Arcanus whispered, keeping his eyes to the floor. Still, his own excitement began to build as he recalled the story... so he could justify speeding things up a bit. His mother wanted something? Then something she would get.

*******

All in all, their conversation had lasted roughly twenty minutes and two drinks each. They had moved from the bustling hall out onto one of the balconies surrounding the estate, settling beneath the moon's incandescent glow with an unobstructed view of the beautiful garden and all its adornments. It was here they had come to talk about a great many things. As it turned out, Stella was an avid painter, enthusiastic reader and had taken a keen interest in her father's philanthropic work.

Correction, *she** talked. Arcanus had mentioned his studies, but for the most part kept quiet to admire the girl's serene voice and how her mane seemed to - ugh, cliche - glow in the moonlight. And, as though she just knew of the nervous boy's predicament, she picked that moment to drop heart-fluttering bomb of the evening.*

"Arcanus, can I tell thee something?"

"Sure."

"Most other colts," she gave an aside glance at nothing in particular, "... and fillies, if I'm in the mood, just try to boast and impress me. It's all about them, and their ego, and how great they are. What they claim they can 'do for me,' not realising their claims were *never** about me. But, I must hoof it to thee."*

'Hoof it?' In hindsight, Moonthistle could have had a field day with that phrasing, but Arcanus's mind was far too preoccupied with the... heat of the moment. Everything about the girl seemed to change, become more... passionate. Like she was bearing some kind of secret. "H-hoof what... to me?" he choked out.

The beautiful girl cupped his scorching cheeks in her hooves, leaning in close and bringing his eyes to hers. "For making this evening so much fun? I've really enjoyed myself tonight," she whispered in a sultry tone. Arcanus scrunched up his eyes, and seized up as he felt the unmistakable sensation of a kiss grace his cheek. "We should do this again, if thou wouldst honour me?"

Arcanus knew the answer to that question on instinct alone, but conveying it with words couldn't possibly do it justice. The look in the girl's eyes and that gentle smile made it clear she already knew. He settled for an unstable bow, fighting hard to keep his jelly-like legs upright long enough so that he could collapse without witnesses.

*******

"Did I not call it or what?" Silvermane exclaimed like a hyperactive filly learning to skip. "Thou hast swept a filly off her hooves-"

"'Twas just a kiss, madam..." Arcanus dismissed his mother's smirk, but wasn't far removed from one himself. In review, his last moment with Stella before she had been forced to return to the dance and other social obligations had been a kiss of all things; as far as last impressions went, he could have done a heck of a lot worse. But, he had to keep things realistic. "It is not necessarily indicative of anything..."

"'The greatest feats blossom forth from the simplest of beginnings, one step at a time,'" Silvermane quoted from the blurb on the back of her book, The Rose of Crimson Thorns. Arcanus was about to laugh at the cheesiness, but to his surprise his mother proceeded to do it for him. "Trashy romance novel, to be honest. Flat characters, predictable premise, uninspired dialogue, even less inspired title, violet prose... but at least it keeps the old eyes working."

"How inspiring..."