The Stormmaster

Primrose died in late spring. She had just returned home from the market. She was sixty-two. Her body was found on the day of her death by her neighbor.

The funeral was held at her home, attended mostly by her daughter’s friends and coworkers. Primrose had been a quiet mare in a time when the rest of her generation was vying for a place in the history books as matriarchs of noble lines. Her friends were solemn, old-looking ponies who mumbled their profound sadness without shedding tears. They did not indulge in long speeches or idle chatter, though many left flowers on their way out.

“Princess,” they said politely when it came their turn, and bowed before they went out into the late afternoon.

Snowdrop sat at the familiar little dinner table. About a dozen weatherkeepers stayed with her. Primrose never thought of herself as important enough to require a painting. It should have meant nothing to Snowdrop, but it was all she could think about.

My children aren’t blind. Their children won’t be blind. They’ll want to know what you looked like.

She knew that Princess Luna was still waiting. If she did not make time now, Snowdrop was sure to meet her old friend in a dream that night.

“Snowdrop, I…” Cumulonimbus trailed off when Snowdrop turned her head to face her.

“You have to go, I understand,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. That goes for the rest of you too. You can leave whenever you want. I appreciate you being here with me. I could not ask for a better team. But you each have your own business to attend to.”

When they were all gone, Snowdrop heard Princess Luna’s soft steps behind her. The two guards remained at their post on either side of the door.

“How are you, Snowdrop?” She asked gently. “Is there anything I can do? You rarely ask favors of me, though I am your friend.”

“It’s not all about you, Luna,” Snowdrop said. Her voice sounded strange in her ears.

“That was very disrespectful,” Luna said seriously. “I am a Princess of Equestria. You would not speak to my sister in that tone, would you?”

“I would never need to say it to her,” she replied. She put her head down on the table and closed her eyes. She wished Luna would go away. The change she had felt in the Colony had taken hold of her old friend. Anger always lurked just below the surface. She spoke more formally, and would often invoke her royal status even in casual conversations.

“Do not think that you will always be excused for your irreverence,” Luna said. “I have been your friend since you were a filly, but that does not make us equal.”

Sensing the imminence of disaster, Snowdrop chose not to answer. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed into her hooves.

Princess Luna inhaled sharply. The spell had passed, and she was gentle once more. She put a wing on Snowdrop’s back, but the pegasus cowered into the cloud.

“I will leave you be,” she said shakily. “Snowdrop…”

Fortunately for the princess, someone else ran into the house at that time. The guards tackled him as soon as he passed the threshold.

“Hey, let me go!”

It was a young stallion from the Cloudsdale Reserve. Snowdrop could hear the rattling of his buttons. He had a slip of paper in his breast pocket.

“Hello Princess,” he said sheepishly. He might as well have been greeting a drinking buddy.

Luna was not impressed. She gestured to the guards, who immediately dragged him back to the door.

“Snowdrop!” He cried. “I am here with good news! Hey! Let me in!”

“You came at an inopportune time,” Luna said sternly. “Do you not know what has happened here? Have a look around! Does this look like a house of celebration?”

“Luna, it’s okay,” Snowdrop said, wiping away her tears as best as she could. “This might be important.”

“Let him go,” Luna said after some thought. “Speak, soldier. What is your news?”

He reached into his pocket and took out the paper. It was a very large sheet, and must have been expensive. It had been folded many times to fit into his pocket.

“This is a petition signed by four thousand three hundred seventy five from the Cloudsdale Reserve, eight hundred and twenty seven citizens of Cloudsdale, and matriarchs of four Noble Families. Snowdrop, with your permission, we would like to nominate you as the next mayor of Cloudsdale.”

Snowdrop sensed the eyes on her. The soldier’s expectant, the guards’ puzzled, and the princess’ scrutinizing.

“This is unusual,” Luna said. “Snowdrop is a peasant by Cloudsdale’s own rules, and she is not an officer in any military. Is it not the responsibility of the Noble Families to select a mayor from their ranks?”

“It was,” he explained. “But since Mayor Fairweather resigned, an overwhelming number of citizens are in favor of promoting the Stormmaster. Snowdrop, you’ve done a lot for Cloudsdale; more than most mayors we’ve had in the last hundred years. I and many others believe that you are what this city needs.”

The giddy smile slowly left his face as he watched Snowdrop. She did not speak, and her face did not give any silent consent.

“Well?” He said slowly, giving the guards an uneasy glance. “Snowdrop, this will be great for you! Don’t take these numbers at face value. There are more than four Noble Families willing to accept you as an equal.”

“What about Alpine Breeze?” Snowdrop asked. “She is your superior; what are her thoughts?”

“She…” Glancing at Princess Luna’s face, he hesitated. “I… I should not comment on her opinions. I cannot, I mean. So will you do it?”

“You are asking a lot of me,” Snowdrop said. “Leave that petition here. I will think it over.”

“They are considering the candidates tomorrow,” he protested. “You must act quickly! Snowdrop, this is a great opportunity! If you would excuse me saying, I would agree to this in a heartbeat if I got this offer!”

“Then you are a fool!” Luna declared. “Leave now! You have outstayed your welcome!”

The guards grabbed him once more and threw him into the street. He dropped the petition onto the floor, perhaps as one final act of defiance.

“Please leave,” Snowdrop said softly before Luna could say anything. “I want to be alone.”

“Mom, I don’t like her.”

“She has always been your classmate,” Snowdrop said. “You should get over your old hostilities. You know, Cumulonimbus and I were not always friends.”

“There’s something evil about her,” Wintergreen said.

“That is uncalled for.”

“It isn’t!” He snapped. “The way she talks to you, and about you… her tone! Your ears are the best in Cloudsdale! How can you not hear that?”

“I hear it,” Snowdrop said. “Wintergreen, Firefly is young, just like you. I know you feel like you’re all grown up, but the truth is you’re still learning.

“Think of this from Firefly’s perspective. She will be the matriarch of her line one day, and I think she has her eyes on the Cloudsdale Reserve.”

“That little prick doesn’t deserve it!” Wintergreen interrupted, jumping up from his cloud. “There are many ponies who are better than her in every way! I’m better than her! And don’t get me started on those big ugly wings of hers!”

“I’ll excuse you for now.” Snowdrop sighed. “Wintergreen, Firefly is not as bad as you think she is. I teach many children from the Noble Families. They don’t think much of me, and they don’t take my lessons seriously. Of course Firefly does not respect me. But she tries hard to learn what I have to teach. Don’t misunderstand me. My best students are the ones like you, and you are the best of the best.”

“Mom, you don’t have to put up with her,” he said. “She’s your student. She owes you respect!”

“I never cared about respect,” Snowdrop replied. “Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older. It’s so much easier to be lenient with some ponies. I don’t care about their upbringing, or what they become. I simply do what I’m told and collect my pay. I’m not their mother. Let them think whatever they want to think. That’s not my problem.”

Wintergreen was still dissatisfied ten minutes later when he went to bed. His tail scooped out a piece of the railing as he went upstairs.

It was nearing midnight. Snowdrop commanded the cloud to part beneath her, and slid all the way through the floor and out of the house.

There were some things she would never teach except to her own children. Perhaps her bloodline was nothing special, but at least it would have something to set it apart from all the others. Wintergreen should have noticed something unusual about his most recent lessons, but he could not know the true extent of his power until he needed it.

Snowdrop pulled wisps of vapor out of the air, letting them swirl around her like a gigantic skirt.

It’s so easy. Why can’t everypony do this?

That question had been on her mind for years. She could manipulate all of Cloudsdale without raising a hoof. She could even add wind to the sails without exerting her wings.

She opened a corridor beneath an empty street and emerged in front of her house. Without much effort she had flown one lap beneath the city wall. Her vapor gown slithered away, becoming parts of houses and streets and fences. And she knew that she could call upon those exact same vapors for days before they became truly indistinguishable amongst the clouds.

The wedding was held in the heat of summer. While slightly-withered crops baked under a merciless sun, Cloudsdale was just comfortably warm.

Snowdrop wore a new dress. It was several shades of “blue” and made of thin silk. Many of the mares wore similar outfits. The new mayor in full dress uniform was the exception. She was a skittish young mare from one Family or another, and even Snowdrop thought that she would not last half as long as Fairweather. Candidates had been few; it was obvious that the Noble Families had been counting on either Snowdrop or Alpine Breeze.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“I wouldn’t know, Cumulonimbus.”

“Don’t be like that, dear,” the other mare said, leaning her neck against Snowdrop. “She’s a fine pony, isn’t she?”

Cumulonimbus was right. Summer Rain had a musical voice to go with her looks, and keen mind and sharp wit. Snowdrop would have loved her as a friend and a student.

But as a daughter-in-law, she was worrisome.

The problem started and ended in her blood. Wintergreen had little to offer in that respect, but at least he was as pure a pegasus as a stallion from the oldest Noble Families. Purer than some, in fact. And Summer Rain was more than half unicorn.

“You know she can’t live here,” Snowdrop had said more than once. He was always livid when he heard it.

“Who says I want her to live here? Who says I want to live here?”

“Where would you rather go?” Snowdrop asked. “Where do you have to go? All your relations are here, and Summer Rain’s family won’t have her back.”

Snowdrop did her best to smile when she sensed her eldest son looking at her. But he knew her thoughts. At least his little sisters were having a good time. Sunray played her harp, and Woodbine hovered above the long central isle with her basket of fragrant petals.

All troubling thoughts left Wintergreen’s mind when he saw the bride. On her head was a delicate wreath of flowers bound together with silver and gold wire. The collar of her gown was made of swastika-patterned silk all too familiar to Snowdrop. In fact it was Jenny’s work, though even the tailor could not comprehend why a young and attractive mare would wear a pattern from one generation ago. The rest of the gown was high fashion, and nopony ever called the ensemble unattractive. Perhaps Snowdrop was the only one to find the collar perplexing.

“Wintergreen, son of Snowdrop and Sunshower, do you accept Summer Rain of Canterlot as your lawfully-wedded wife?”

Snowdrop stayed in her mother’s house for the night. Nopony knew it. The house was supposed to sit vacant for a year before anything could be done with it.

She sat on her childhood bed. It had been lengthened several times in her teenage years. In the end, Snowdrop had grown to be a little taller than her mother, and a little leaner.

She tried not to think about what her son was doing. Sunshower had taken the girls to his brother’s place. For a month Wintergreen and Summer Rain had the old house to themselves while they built another. It would stand on Cloudsdale’s uppermost level, not that they would be able to use it all that often. With two unicorns in the last generation, Snowdrop had no doubt in her mind that her son would have to leave the city of his birth.

”Snow fell in blocks from the sky. There had never been a storm like that before, and there has not been one since. They couldn’t fly at all, so he ordered his platoon to land. They were all pure-blooded Children of Cloudsdale.”

“And I got the news almost a year later. You were five months old.”