Guiding Him Down a New Path

by Sai-guy

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character
Length: 21697

We want our little colt to surpass anything we could accomplish; that’s why we named him Rising. But how can he if he still hasn’t gotten his cutie mark?

I do everything I can to bring my son up right in the short time I have with him. I try to have an impact on his life, but I can only make do with shore leave and letters.

I raise my little Star mostly on my own, hoping he’ll be a good stallion one day. The times I look at him and see his father, I know I’m doing a good job.

We want him to surpass anything we could accomplish; that’s why we named him Rising.

[Guiding Star] [Squall Line] [Rising Star] [Gabriella]

Published 2014-07-14 02:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-25 01:08:22 UTC

Flight-and-Fight Response

From the deck of the Dancing Leaf, Squall and I watched the approaching griffons. They were a mercenary couple and their chick, who sat on her mother’s back. I didn’t particularly like having to hire mercenaries, but this voyage was going past the Strait of Maressina, and I didn’t want to lose six of my crew to the Scylla.

I appraised them as they prowled up the dock towards us. They weren’t armed, but then, if my information was correct, that made little difference in how dangerous they were. A few faint scars crossed their chests and flanks, which explained why the dockworkers shied away from them. A cursory glance certainly made them seem hostile, but I knew why they stared down anypony who came near them. They were wary in the same way I would be if I had to bring my son with me to a new port.

I considered myself lucky because Squall wanted to stay home to raise Rising. But for those mercenaries, without both watching one another’s backs, the one who stayed behind would likely end up a widow. I really felt bad for them, but I’d already done my best to help… but maybe there was another option.

Now was time for business, though, so I put on my game face and recalled all I knew about griffons’ customs. I had the position of power here, so when they stopped in front of me, I waited for them to incline their heads before I followed suit.

“Calm skies for your hunting grounds,” I said, beginning the Equestrian translation of their traditional saying. Try as I might, I couldn’t manage the pronunciation in their tongue.

Their crests raised. Apparently they hadn’t expected me to know it. There was hiring mercenaries, then there was earning their loyalty. I strove for the latter as I did the former.

“Und may ze clouds hide your movements,” they responded, brows furrowing. It seemed my lack of wings rather threw the traditional response off.

“Welcome to my ship, Gregor, Gertrude.” I wanted to ask them about their child, but I didn’t, as that wasn’t part of the protocol.

Gregor stepped forward, apparently to speak for the family, and said, “We thank you for ze invitation of work — few ponies actually trust us. Und your knowledge of our customs is a pleasant surprise. Ze ship, she looks sturdy und fast. Mine wife und I, we will take ze job, I think.”

He looked back to Gertrude, who said, “Yes, it seems like a good choice. I trust that ze allowance for putting our chick into ze boarding school is still part of our contract.”

I nodded. “It is, indeed. But, I would like to make a second option available to you. My wife, Squall Line, very much loves children, and she’s always wished for a girl… I propose that your daughter stay at my house, under my wife’s care, while we are at sea. Of course, the funds originally proposed for her lodging and so forth will get redirected to your paycheck.”

They turned to one another and began conferring in Griffonian, a harsh language if ever there was one. I turned to Squall, whose mouth hung open. It quickly turned up into a smile. I hoped, for her sake, that they would take the offer. It didn’t hurt that it would make a nice lesson for Rising.

They turned back to us, and Gertrude spoke up. “Your wife, she is big for you ponies. She seems almost as strong as us, so she will do to raise Gabriella.”

Squall snorted. Oh no, they’d gone and done it. I raised a hoof, but it was already too late.

“Almost as strong as you?”

Gertrude tilted her head. “Yes, strength is a compliment here, no?”

My wife looked over to me. “I have to teach these griffons a few things. I’ll come right back, okay?”

Squall turned her attention back to the griffons and pointed at Gertrude. “You, me, wingpower battle. Now.”

I sighed and had to resist bringing my hoof to my face. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Even some of my crew had turned to watch the exchange.

Gregor reached up onto his wife’s back and took Gabriella down. “I think I like this pony. She has — what is ze word? — ambition, und she shows no fear. I think she will be a good influence on you, Gabriella.”

The chick stared down at the deck as her mother and Squall took off. They made sure to cross out farther into the bay and then took up positions about ten or so body lengths from one another and began hovering with their hind legs dangling high above any of the masts in the bay.

What happened next made me glad to be a unicorn. Sure, being able to carry things in my magic was nice, but earth ponies managed just fine without it. No, what I counted as unicorns’ best gift was the ability to actually see leylines. Usually, they’re just there, doing mundane little tasks, but when something like this happened, no flowers or art or even the sunset matched their beauty. Thousands of the invisible magic appendages shone before me, making both of them seem like giant shimmering butterflies whose wings almost reached the water.

Watching the leylines of those two extend as they prepared blew me away. Seeing how wide they spread made my horn hurt just thinking about it; covering that much area was purely the realm of the pegasi — and griffons, I supposed.

The one beside me spoke up. “I offer my sincerest of apologies if mine wife harms yours. I fear Gertrude can sometimes be — how do you say? — excitable.”

I tried not to snort. “Oh, don’t you worry about Squall. I’m just worried about where I’ll find new mercenaries if this ends badly.”

Gregor eyed me with something like disbelief. I wasn’t entirely sure, though; I had trouble reading griffons, what with their beaks and all.

What could only be described as a flash of magic drew my attention. Gertrude had opened the “fight” with a huge gust of wind, sweeping Squall back a couple body lengths. The two rules for a wingpower battle were simple: if you could still move the other competitor, you were still in the game, and you weren’t allowed to move forward from where you were pushed.

That Gertrude had pushed my wife back at all impressed me, really. But I knew Squall’s magic; it slowly built towards being unstoppable, and this was only the beginning. She would bowl that poor griffon over like a storm front.

Gertrude’s leylines sunk into the bay below her, and those loops flattened a bit to catch more water. If only raw power mattered, my wife definitely had the power to win. But unfortunately for Squall, Gertrude fought smart. Air moved much more easily than thousands of gallons of water, so she had anchored herself in the bay. That was a very good sign for me; I liked my mercenaries to have a good head about them.

The leylines around Squall and Gertrude’s bodies brightened past their typical level in flight. The halo of crimson energy surrounding Gertrude expanded two, maybe three, times faster than Squall’s, which matched her eyes’ orange color. Every flap of their wings saturated more of each loop with thrumming energy, sending the invisible glow out a hoof’s length or two farther.

Squall slid backwards through the air, her face scrunching into a scowl. As Gertrude pushed her more than half the length of a ship from where she’d started, I wondered if my confidence had been overconfidence.

I glanced over at Gregor and Gabriella without turning my head. While she looked down and off to the side, her father kept his sight trained on the fight. His head jerked back and forth in an unsurprisingly bird-like way.

When I looked back, I saw that both their pairs of wings traced out contrails as they pulled the water from the air, and the wind grew to a dull roar. It seemed the fight had drawn quite the crowd. Horseshoe Bay rarely saw fights, and more often than not, the ones that happened sent everypony fleeing from sea monsters. So for this one, ponies from other ships and all along the docks had stopped to gawk. Though, with both of their leylines filled halfway with power, the wind, and the waves, I couldn’t blame them.

As I watched along with them, I noticed a wake forming beneath Gertrude where her leylines met the water.

I found the difference between Squall’s magic and Gertrude’s clearly displayed as the fight dragged on. While the griffon’s magic flared at each attack of wind, it dulled between them. Squall’s only continued growing brighter, expanding, grabbing more air with each flap.

“Come on, Squall, I know you can do it!” I yelled above the wind.

“Yes. I. Can!” She let each word out explosively, accompanied by a flap and flare-up of magic. It passed a point I hadn’t seen her reach in years and reminded me of when we’d first met.

As Squall slowed to a stop, the scowl from her face migrated to Gertrude’s. The right side of my mouth curled into a smile, and Squall glanced down to me, a similar expression covering her face. I nodded once to her.

Muscles and leylines straining, she poured it on, each beat of her wings condensing a small, briefly lived cloud with a wump. Gertrude squawked as the wind became a torrent, and the lulls in her magic’s strength led to her slipping farther and farther back. The repeated forced retreats sent up waves until she reached the shore. With no more water to cling to, the current of air sent her tumbling. She caught hold of a roof as she passed it and steadied herself then climbed onto it, panting.

I turned to watch her husband. Griffons could sometimes act strangely over matters of honor, so I lit my horn just to be on the safe side. Hypocritical of me? Maybe, but mercenaries were known for their violent tendencies regardless of species.

Gregor snorted when he saw me. “Guiding Star, do not be afraid. Your wife won ze battle by overwhelming strength. However! I vant to test myself against her.” He scanned the sky. “I have a most interesting challenge for her.”

I definitely understood that. Squall and I competed as often as we could — not nearly enough in my opinion.

When his wife got back to the ship and started watching over their daughter, he took off like a bolt towards Squall, who was on her way back. As he got to her, he gestured with his talons, and I caught something about lightning and hitting.

I found myself liking this idea significantly less. It sounded like either of them could get seriously hurt.

“Squall, please, you don’t have to do this!”

“Guiding,” she called down, “it’s okay. This nice griffon explained the rules to me, and they’re simple. I just need a few minutes.”

Celestia, there was no stopping that mare when she put her mind to something.

I could only watch as Gregor and Squall took up positions about a ship’s length from one another in the sky. Apparently, griffons always went first; Gregor’s magic reached out and raked through the air, clawing at it and pulling a charge back to him. While I couldn’t see the electricity, from the hairs in my mane lifting towards him, I knew the potential for Squall getting hurt was high. Ice ran through my veins as I saw the leylines from his talons extend all the way to my wife, and a split second later, the flash of lightning blinded me. The crack of thunder laid my ears flat against my head.

When my vision cleared, I saw Squall patting at her chest, where a patch of her coat had been scorched a darker grey. I sat heavily and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. She was okay.

She was okay.

I had to remind myself that enough electricity to kill me only hurt pegasi. They’d never survive thunderstorms otherwise. Faster than anypony could possibly think, her magic had moved to cut the shock down to a minimum, taking a sizeable chunk of the magic she’d spent the last few minutes building.

“Ow…” Squall coughed then shook herself again. She started again, stronger this time. “Well, that was quite the attack! I don’t think I’ve ever seen any pony pull lighting from thin air before — I know I can’t.”

She made a show of looking around for storms to harness for herself. There were no clouds. “So, you probably thought you had a pretty good chance, what with there being nothing for me to use. That’s where you’d be wrong, though. I have more than I could ever need.”

She tucked her wings to her sides and dove, plummeting towards the waves. As she approached the water, she made no effort to slow, only letting her magic spool out behind her like streamers in the wind.

I couldn’t watch as she hurtled towards the bay, but I still felt the burst of cloudwalking magic and heard the tremendous splash. I glanced back to see the deluge Squall had kicked up vaporize and recondense under the guidance of her magic.

Celestia, it always boggled my mind how pegasi just did magic like that without thinking. Some unicorns put in decades of study to do even half that with clouds. But Squall didn’t even pay attention to the huge cloud forming over her head. She stood on the surface of the water, looking out at Gregor, who had followed her most of the way down.

“You see,” she said, “I usually get called to break storms up, but I know how to put them together, too.”

She grinned like a cat who’d caught a mouse, and the cloud darkened to almost black. “And now, it’s my turn.”

Squall leapt from the water into the cloud and disappeared from sight. After a few moments, the cloud started to rotate, picking up speed. Meanwhile, Gregor hovered in place, eyeing it. I did too, and I saw it begin glowing the color of Squall’s magic as she rebuilt her strength.

I supposed that dodging was against the rules, so I stood and picked up a life preserver in my telekinesis. I briefly considered the irony, given that Squall’s cutie mark was one, but I pushed that to the back of my mind. I guessed Gregor was about to be in a rough spot.

Squall burst from the cloud, lightning crackling between her primaries, and pointed at Gregor. The flash blinded me again, and the thunder almost knocked me off my hooves. My ears rang while my vision returned, and I searched the water for the griffon. When I spotted him, twitching, a few yards from my ship, I rushed the life preserver to him and called my crew to haul him aboard.

I looked out to my wife, who stood atop the cloud she’d created. She fought to keep a smirk from her face and lost. She had gone a little overboard with that display of force, and I loved it when she did that. So much raw power… and she was all mine. It made me feel alive just watching her.

I gasped. Idiot, I was being an idiot, standing here like a romantic fool while probably losing two hires.

I turned back to them and saw Gertrude working some of the cramps out of her husband’s wings while he grimaced. Their chick hid behind her mother’s feline legs, only her head and tail poking out. She shrank back even farther when Squall landed beside me, and I groaned internally.

Oh, buck me straight to Tartarus. This could only end in tears and Squall trying to hug that poor chick into paste. Already, Squall’s expression crumbled from elation to concern. From there, it was a short trip to the waterworks.

“Squall, dear, go to my cabin please.”

She nodded mechanically and left at a slow walk but nearly broke out into a gallop before reaching the door. I heard her choke back a sob as she wrenched it open and rushed inside, slamming the door behind herself.

I turned back and found them conversing in that coarse language of theirs. As I walked up to them, they quieted, and I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry for that. My wife can also be rather excitable.”

“Ha! Do not apologize,” Gregor said. “I wanted a good fight, und I found one. It gives me stratagems to consider for the future, no?”

Gertrude nodded. “Und we think now more than ever zat your wife should raise Gabriella in our absence. She will be a good influence… if she can get over zat strange aversion to exposing ze children to violence you ponies have.”

She helped her husband up to all fours, and he looked from my cabin’s door to me. “If you promise to talk to her about zat, we have a deal. Mine daughter must grow big und strong.”

“I’ll talk to her about it and explain how our cultures are different in that respect.” I held out my hoof to him.

He grasped it with his talons and shook. It was a strange feeling to say the least. Each claw that curled around my fetlock pressed down with a distinct line of pressure, very unlike when a pony went for a hoofshake and completely different from being grasped with the uniformity of magic. It felt like he needed to consciously avoid crushing down like a vice to snap my bones.

Predators’ instincts must be hard to fight.

I shook with Gertrude next, just wanting to get back to Squall. “Maybe we should finish this tomorrow when you two are in a little better shape. That sound good?”

“Same time und place, yes?” she asked.

I nodded.

“We shall see you tomorrow, zen.” She and Gregor turned. “Come along, Gabriella.”

She slunk off between her parents, tail hanging limply between her legs. It seemed that not all griffons were so enamored with thoughts of violence. That’s something else I’d bring up with Squall.

I hurried to her, and when I got into my quarters, I found her lying on our bed, head beneath her wings. She trembled, twitches running through her wings, and I heard sniffling.

My ears wilted. It felt like somepony had bucked me in the stomach, seeing her like this. There was nothing I could have done, but still, it felt like my failure.

No — I realized — I could have chosen to comfort her instead of talking to the griffons, but I’d chosen them over the mare I’d married.

I flopped down beside her and wrapped her in a hug, burying my face in one of her wings. “Celestia, I’m so sorry, Squall. I should have come for you right away. I shouldn’t have—”

She shifted around and hooked her wing behind me, dragging me in for a kiss. I admit, on a list of ways I like making up for things, making out would rank fairly high.

After a couple minutes, we pulled back, and I saw one of the mysteries of life. For some reason or other, the coats of pegasi were able to pretty effectively repel water except for their own tears. Dimly, I remembered something about their magic passing through itself, but that couldn’t matter less to me right now; poor Squall’s face was still tear-streaked. I leaned in and kissed the tears away.

I traced a hoof through one of the black streaks in her mane. “Better?”

She nodded, only a tiny motion. “I’m okay. It’s just… she looked so scared of me. She had to hide from me! I beat up her parents right in front of her! How am I supposed to take care of her now? Will she even—”

I put a hoof to her lips and hushed her. “Squall, you’re just going to talk yourself back into crying. Just listen to me. Those griffons want you to act that way to teach their daughter.”

“But!”

“But you don’t want to do anything like that in front of a kid. And you know what? I don’t think she wants that either. I could be wrong, but we’ll have Rising figure that out for sure.”

Squall laughed a bit. “Yeah, he’ll probably find out in the first hour or so.”

“That’s right. And then if I’m right, we just need to do a little rebranding. It’s not attacking with lightning; it’s the art of electric arcs. It won’t be making mini-tornadoes and wind gusts to rip things apart; it’ll be painting with all the colors of the wind or something.”

She smiled faintly and pulled me into a tighter hug. “Thank you. When you put it like that, it does sound a lot nicer. I mean, so long as she learns it, does it matter what I teach it as?”

I shrugged, the weight of her hooves on my shoulders making the motion seem much more personal. Smiling, I rested a hoof on her cheek. “I just want you to be happy. Will you be, doing this?”

She nodded and covered the back of my hoof with hers, nuzzling it. Her coat tickled against the frog of my hoof. I kissed her softly, and she sighed when I pulled back.

“I have to go pick up Rising now.”

With a snort, I said, “If you don’t hurry, he’ll probably walk to the library again.”

I stood and helped her up. Pegasi weighed so little when they wanted to.

“Then I’ll make sure I swing around from that side to make sure I don’t miss him.” She stretched each wing out, one at a time, popping a few joints in each. “Oh yeah, that’s good.”

I just watched in appreciation. “You want a wing massage tonight?”

She smirked at me. “You want a wing massage tonight.”

“Mmm, guilty as charged.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling anyways. I cast off in two days — we both knew how this ended.

She walked to the door, opened it, and paused, looking back over her shoulder. “See you soon, my Star. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And then she left, swatting the door closed with her tail, and I sighed. Dear Luna, this day had already been like something out of a dream, what with my wife fighting mercenaries, winning, and them liking that.

I got out a small notebook I kept in addition to my captain’s log. In it, I had some bits of knowledge I’d picked up about the other species, little facts that I hadn’t seen in any of the books about them. You never knew when something like this could help when you traveled as many places as I did.

I flipped through it, found the section I had for griffons, and wrote, “Their mercenary types take losing graciously?” Below that, I added, “Their culture as a whole?”

I’d ask around and see if those ideas held any water.

But then I felt a sizzling sort of light from my left, and I heard the soft sound of a scroll settle inside my cabinet as its enchantment delivered a captain’s message to me. Back to work, it seemed.

As I began reading the message, I wished Squall good luck telling Rising that he’d have a temporary sister — who’s a griffon.

Author's Note

Thanks to my editors: SaiKimura and Cynewulf.

Bon Voyage

As I flicked the door closed with my tail, I had to keep myself from sighing. I knew that Guiding would hear it with those sharp ears of his, and I didn’t want him to worry any more for me than he already was. Let him think he’d made everything better.

I took wing and headed for the library.

He actually had made it better, though. It was just that things weren’t completely alright. The way that chick had stared at me with those wide eyes haunted me. It had been a long, long time since I’d been looked at with fear like that. I wasn’t a bully! I was just strong and didn’t always stop to think. And then things like that happened, and I ended up looking like some sort of overgrown monster in front of a kid.

I hit my forehead with my hoof a few times, thinking about how stupid I’d been. Guiding had warned me, but I’d just ignored him like an idiot. I was lucky they were griffons — if they’d been ponies, there’s no way her parents would let her stay with me.

Oh Celestia, what if I’d done that in front of my little Star?

I felt tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, and I saw some of the clouds ahead of me darken.

I wiped my eyes and shook my head, forcing a smile onto my face. This negativity was getting me nowhere. I was still going to take care of Gabriella, after all. Plus, Guiding had given me a wonderful plan to train her, and I’d see my little Star soon.

The library was only a couple minutes’ flight away by now; I could see its roof among the others and its decorative carvings on the upper level. I laughed. It was quite a relief that Rising wasn’t pointing out how it was called a relief for the hundredth time. I swear, that colt would read random pages from the dictionary for fun one day and a fantasy novel the next. It didn’t make looking for him in a library very easy; he could be in any section, really.

I made a quick circuit of the building and looked in each of the windows. It was still a bit early for him to be here, but it didn’t hurt to check. After a couple minutes of searching and finding neither hide nor hair of him, I winged my way off towards his school, which was only a few blocks away. Some nice city designer had been kind to the bookish foals and put the library right next to the school.

As I made the short flight there, I scanned the ground for Rising’s telltale red and green. Finally, I spotted him arriving at the other side of the street the school was on. I smiled and swooped down to scoop him up.

“Whoa! Hi, Mom!”

“Hello to you, my little Star!”

He fidgeted in my forelegs. “Mooom, not right in front of the school…”

I nuzzled him too, and a faint blush shone through his coat. I smirked as I flew back to the library. “What, Mom isn’t cool enough to love you?”

“No, y— I mean yes.”

I laughed as I turned over to backstroke through the air, letting him sit on my barrel. “Oh, and going to the library almost every day is cool?”

He nodded. “It is since I started doing light shows about the books!”

I blinked. Since when did he do that? “What do you mean, Rising?”

He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face as his horn glowed, and a caricature of a pegasus joined us in the sky. It was the same red color as his magic, and the proportions were a bit odd, but it was clearly a pegasus. This was a fairly common type of magic to see… from teenagers.

Rising was nine.

I stared at the little thing for a few moments, collecting myself. The way he’d said it sounded like he did this pretty often, so this wasn’t a fluke. Things like this made it hard for me to believe that our son was going to just end up taking over the business. Still, thinking about things like that wasn’t exactly what I needed to do right now; I had to figure out how to tell Rising that we were going to have a house guest while Guiding was away.

As we passed over the edge of the library’s roof, I flipped back around and placed him down. His eyes were still closed as he kept the little figure flying in a circle around us.

“Star, think you could make a griffon?”

He looked up at me, and the caricature of his flickered and died. “Uh, yeah! I made one last week, I think. Let me just…” He shut his eyes again, and the tip of his tongue poked through his lips as he lit his horn.

A vaguely griffon-shaped thing appeared in the air between us. The tail definitely looked like a pony’s, and the front legs were little more than sticks, but the beak looked pretty close to correct.

“Hmm,” I said, looking at it, “that’s pretty good, but you might want to get a little better.”

Frowning, he tilted his head and blinked up at me. “Why?” he asked as the griffon-thing vanished.

Here we go.

“Well, because one is going to be living in the room across from you till your father gets back, starting the day after tomorrow.”

He stared up at me.

“Surprise!”

He sat down and crossed his forelegs. “There’s a griffon in my grade. Nopony likes him.”

“Oh, Star, you know how your father feels about someone not getting a fair shake because of who they are.” I sighed. “He’d be disappointed that you’re acting like this.”

He looked down at his hooves. “Sorry…”

I put the tip of my hoof under his chin and made him look up at me, then I gave him a smile. “All you have to do is give her a chance. She seems like a nice griffon to me.”

He grasped my hoof to stand. “Yeah, I’ll give her a chance. Dad can count on me!”

Beaming, I offered him a hoof bump, and he accepted. “That’s what I like to see, enthusiasm! Now, let’s go learn about griffons!”

He jumped up and followed me through the rooftop entrance usually reserved for pegasi.

As it turned out, going to the library had been a bad idea. Far too many of those books had been about how warlike griffons had been in centuries past. It was hard to find much of anything about the last few hundred years of peace.

That was probably why, as the griffons walked towards the ship, I heard Rising say, “But they have claws!”

Guiding raised an eyebrow, looking at our son. “Yes, and?”

“And paws too!”

Guiding sighed. Smart as Rising was, nine was nine. “That’s not what I meant, Rising.”

We both agreed that bringing him down to the docks was important. It helped broaden his horizons by exposing him to others who spoke, acted, or were just biologically different. He was sure taking these griffons better than he had reacted to seeing his first sea serpent, which was with open-mouthed terror. It was good progress.

My husband looked to me, probably wanting a little backup.

I tousled Rising’s mane then turned his head to look up at me. “My little Star, your father is doing business with these people, just like that dragon last fall. Don’t you remember how that went?”

He hopped into the air. “He let me play with his fire! We even sculpted it!”

I scooped him up with a wing and placed him on my back. “Yes, he turned out to be quite nice even with all his claws and spines. Now, look on the wife’s back. What do you see?”

From his higher vantage, I was sure that he’d be able to see the chick, who stared around at everything from her mother’s back. I could be a clever pony when I wanted to be… if I had a couple days to work on a plan.

We very neatly mirrored the approaching mercenaries, given that female griffons were larger than their male counterparts, like I was bigger than Guiding.

“Oh, she’s got a little filly on her back.”

“Remember, griffons call them chicks,” I said, “but anyways, now look at us.”

They were almost to us by now, only a single ship away. I wondered if my little Star’s brilliant mind could piece together what I meant before they got to us. Peeking over my shoulder, I watched him look back and forth between us and them, his face scrunching up in thought.

“Oh,” he said as they reached the gangplank. “Ooh!”

Ah, that’s my colt!

The family waited for a couple of dockworkers, a unicorn and earth pony team, to climb aboard with the last load of cargo, then they headed up. Personally, I would have just flown over.

We had discussed the details of Gabriella’s stay yesterday, so luckily, her parents had dropped the formalities. Guiding and I greeted them, and I motioned for Rising to do the same. He nodded, turned, and walked the couple steps to the end of my back. I flicked my tail out into a sort of makeshift slide, and he slipped down to the deck. Meanwhile, Gabriella hopped off her mother’s back and landed between them.

After they’d said their hellos, Rising and Gabriella both stared at each other, but when my husband cleared his throat, Rising’s head whipped around to stare at him.

“The cargo is all loaded, and the tide turns soon. It’s almost time to set sail,” he said as the dockworkers came back out of the hold.

Rising had long since gotten used to how this went, so he reached up and hugged Guiding around the neck. It occurred to me that the next time this happened, he probably wouldn’t need to reach up at all. He was pretty tall for somepony without his cutie mark, and Guiding had always been stocky.

A squawk flattened my ears, and it took me a split second to realize that it was the griffons talking to their daughter. I was sure what they were saying must have been touching and heartfelt, but it was killer on the ears.

As if connected by some sort of magical bond of parental bond, we all bent and nuzzled our respective children at the same time. I smiled and chuckled to myself, wishing there were somepony to take a picture and capture the moment.

Then it was over, and Rising walked to the gangplank, then the griffons sent Gabriella along with him and waved. I stayed with my husband for a moment longer and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I love you, dear,” I whispered. “Have a safe voyage, and hurry home. I’ll miss you.”

He pressed his forehead against mine, the sounds of the docks fading away till all that mattered was the sound of our breaths mingling. He didn’t say anything, but I knew. It killed him to leave us like this… and the same went for me.

His lips barely touched the end of my nose, then he pulled back just like the tide was about to. I heaved a sigh that only shook a little before I went over to Gabriella and my son. We walked down the ramp together as Guiding shouted orders to his crew.

I found I just didn’t want to fly, not then.

A unicorn stowed the gangplank away after we got off it, and we stood on the dock, watching as the unicorns magicked the mooring lines off the bollards. In short order, the Dancing Leaf cast off, leaving us waving to our loved ones. I found it touching that the griffons joined Guiding and the rest of the crew who could spare the time to wave.

But it couldn’t last. After only a few minutes, they had to attend to their duties, leaving the railings, the port, and their families behind.

I turned to look at my son and my new charge. “Well,” I said, “it’s time to head home.”

Author's Note

Thanks to my editors: SaiKimura and Cynewulf.

A Day in the Life

As we walked home, I couldn’t help but notice Rising glancing at Gabriella’s wings and up at the pegasi above us. I could guess what question was burning in his mind: why isn’t she flying? I would guess that it was for the same reason I wasn’t. Sometimes, your heart just wasn’t in it, and having your husband or your parents leave certainly would put you there.

At the speed we were going, it would take us about half an hour to get home. None of us talked. I, for one, was too caught up in my thoughts of Guiding and keeping a close eye on my son and my new charge. It was hard not to think of her as a daughter who I could fly with and teach about clouds and making and breaking storms and—

I cut off that line of thought. We would do all that, but it would be with her as a student. Besides, it made me seem like I wasn’t thankful for my wonderful little Star.

His question was definitely eating at him by the time we were halfway home, so I motioned at Gabriella a couple times with my head, prompting him to ask.

“Hey, um, Gabriella?”

She looked over at him as we continued down the street. “Yes?”

“So, I was sort of wondering why you aren’t flying. I mean, pretty much the only time my pegasus friends aren’t flying is when they have to sit at their desks.”

She looked back and up at me. Maybe she thought it was a strange question since I was walking too. But then she kept looking around at the other ponies on the street and the pegasi in the air, taking a minute before answering.

“It vould be rude. At least, zat is how it is seen in Griffonia. Flying around others who can’t, unless you have a good reason, is disrespectful.” She looked up into the sky. “It does not look like zat is how things are here.”

What she just said was hard to wrap my head around. It just didn’t make any intuitive sense. I flew around Guiding and Rising and all my earthbound friends. They’d never given me any flack for it.

I guess my confusion must have shown because she started to elaborate.

“Where I come from, ze only ones who can’t fly are ze old und sick, and we do not want to hurt their pride. It is an old tradition, und only ze very rude ignore it.”

When she put it that way… I shuddered a bit. Not being able to fly was pretty far up my list of things I didn’t want to think about, and the same could probably be said for any pegasus.

I shook my head. No use dwelling on it, not when I had a friendship to foster. I reached down with a wing to nudge Rising towards her, and he bumped against one of her saddlebags. “You two are going to be together a lot for the next month or so. Better start making friends early, right?”

It didn’t take much more coaxing to get them to start talking. Star had always been one to make as many friends as he could. They went over all the typical kid things like who was older — she was by a couple years. They also went over what games they liked, but there wasn’t much overlap; however, checkers and skipping rocks came up. And when Rising asked what books were her favourites, he almost tripped because she said she didn’t like to read.

I wondered if that was going to be a problem. The way he looked at Gabriella when she said that made it seem like it was either going to be a deal-breaker in their friendship or it would be a life goal for him to change that about her. How serious he looked almost made me burst out laughing.

When we got home, Rising took off for his room upstairs, no doubt to get some of his favourite books. I stayed back with Gabriella, who went off to take a look around the downstairs. She went around the left side first, and I followed to show her the kitchen and dining room, then we went around to the right. On that side, we had the sitting room. I pointed to the door at the far end of it as we walked.

“That’s the guest bedroom. You can leave your things in there.”

She nodded and slunk towards the door. “Thank you very much, missis Line.”

I followed after her. “Oh, no need for that. Just call me Squall; everypony does. Well, everyone,” I amended.

We went into her room, and she looked around, heading for the far side. It was a simple affair, a bed with a nightstand, some drawers, and a body-length mirror. After placing her saddlebags under the bed, she flapped once and landed on the bed. She curled up and laid her head on her crossed talons.

“Nice und comfy. Everything is vunderbar!”

I went to sit beside her. “I’m glad you think so! Make yourself at home. Stay awhile!”

She scooted farther away and kept an eye on me as I sat. It felt like something just hit me in the chest. Ponyfeathers, she was skittish around me.

The sound of hooves coming down the stairs let me know Rising was on his way a few seconds before he appeared in the doorway, three books floating in his magic.

“Rising, could you give us a bit of privacy? We girls need to have a little talk.”

His ears flopped back, and he frowned. “Okay, Mom.”

As he walked towards one of the couches to sit, he closed the door behind him with a burst of magic. At the click of the latch, she turned and gazed up at me with her big golden eyes. “Talk?”

I sighed and lay down on my back. It seemed like the least threatening position I could put myself in. “Yes, talk. Really, I need to apologize for what I did to your parents the other day, right in front of you no less. If I could take back the violence, I would, but I can’t. What I can do is try to regain your trust and be a supportive caregiver while they’re away. If there’s anything, anything I can do to make this better for you, let me know, and I’ll be sure to do it.”

Gabriella looked at me for a long while, completely silent. Had I said something offensive or somehow scared her again?

“I am sorry, missis Line… Squall. I have never been apologized to by an adult before. A griffon vould never apologize to someone younger. It simply isn’t done.”

“Well,” I said, rolling to my side to face her and spreading a wing, “we do things a bit differently here.” I smiled.

Gabriella eyed my wing then looked back into my eyes. She fidgeted and began to rise only to settle back down.

I sighed, a slight frown crossing my face. “Okay, not ready for a hug yet, then. I hope we can make it to that point soon, Gabriella.”

I rolled off the bed and stood. “But for now, I think I’m going to have to let my son read at you. Yes, I mean ‘at.’” I raised my wing closer to the door to my mouth, cupping it towards her. “If you fall asleep, just tell him that his voice is soothing, and he’ll buy it.”

I dropped my wing and pushed open the door. “Rising, come on in. You two have fun while I make some lunch.”

He rushed past me, five books floating over his head. Hadn’t there only been three? I facehooved. He must’ve gone and grabbed a couple more while I talked to Gabriella.

I sighed, and it turned into a laugh as I went into the kitchen. Two children in the house… I smiled stupidly. Guiding had outdone himself. This had to be the best present I’d ever gotten, and it wasn’t even for any special occasion. I’d really have to do something nice for him when he got back.

But I was getting ahead of myself; he wouldn’t be back for a long time, and I had lunches to make.

One of them would be less fun than the others… One of the things Gertrude and Gregor had been adamant about was their daughter eating meat or fish at least once a day, preferably twice. To that end, they had given me the names and addresses of the two stores in the city that sold them. I’d had to go once this morning, and I was not looking forward to going back every day.

At least I didn’t have to do much to prepare it, just pop it in the oven, lemon and pepper to taste for the fish, spices for the meat.

From the icebox, I took out the fish I’d bought earlier, and I tried not to look into its dead little eyes as I put it on a lightly oiled tray. I’d be sure to wash that one twice when it was done. Then I put it in the oven to bake. With that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, a nice eye-free salad was definitely on the menu for Rising and me.

As I tossed a salad together, I listened to my little Star’s high voice. It certainly wouldn’t be that way much longer, a year or two at most… And by then he’d have found his calling and probably given Guiding a bit of a shock.

While he could usually see pretty clearly in these sorts of situations, my husband’s heart was too set on Rising following him into the business. I just couldn’t see that happening. He could parrot back information about ships and how to move cargo effectively, but that’s all it was. He knew it by memorization, not by heart. I knew how to cook by memorization, but that’s not what I knew by heart. My cutie mark was a life preserver, not a whisk or something, and I couldn’t see Rising’s being a shipping crate. Our little colt was made for bigger things — I could tell.

But he’d never get to them without good meals to let him grow big and strong. I set the table, and then when the smell of fish made me wrinkle my nose, I took it out and called them for lunch. They rushed in, washed up, and dug in. Lacking any sort of subtlety, Rising and I didn’t look at Gabriella as she started eating.

After a minute or two of silence, things started to feel wrong. Rising always chattered during meals, and though it made them take longer than they should, it was normal, and I liked it. We needed something to talk about.

“Gabriella, after lunch, would you like to show me what you know about making clouds and lightning?” I asked, making myself look at her. Though, I did try to avoid seeing that fish.

“Yes, missis Squall” — I smiled — “I will. Mine parents hoped for us to start right away.”

“Can I watch?” Rising asked.

“Of course you can… if Gabriella wants you to.”

I looked over to her and found that she was staring at me, fork halfway to her mouth and seemingly forgotten. Apparently that suggestion hadn’t gone over well.

“Never mind, Rising. Maybe some other time.”

“Aww… alright.” After another bite, he sat up straighter, his ears perking up. “Oh, now I can make chapter three look really good! I’ll show you when you’re done!”

He gobbled up the rest of his lunch, then, at my nod, he rushed off, his book already floating over to meet him. Gabriella and I finished a couple minutes later, and I sent her outside to get ready while I cleaned up.

When I got outside, I had her show me what she could do from a bunch of different standpoints like flying and making wind, clouds, and lightning.

I didn’t know what I was expecting to find, but I sure didn’t get it. Griffons do a lot differently from us ponies. When I asked her to fly a bit for me, she didn’t take off and start hovering like a pegasus would; she went and landed on the roof, looked around for a moment, then glided off to a thermal and rode it up to soar high above the city. Putting Gabriella through her paces showed me her ability to soar far outstripped most if not all pegasi’s. I shook my head as I watched this little eleven-year-old who could put even dedicated endurance fliers to shame. She was also really something in sprints. Really, she had almost no middle ground; for her, it was either a burst of energy or what I thought of as just lazing through the sky.

Seeing her do the other things I wanted to check was enlightening as well. I didn’t think she could carve out a working cloud if I put her in a room full of fog, but she pulled lightning from empty air better than I could — which is to say, she managed to do it at all. She said she’s not very good for a griffon, though. Remembering what her father hit me with, I suppose I would have to agree.

Watching her left me with a couple of questions about training her. The most important one was: where do I even start? I knew, from talking with her parents, that they wanted me to teach her attacks, but I wondered what counted. I could have fun showing her how to make hail, which definitely hurts if it hits you.

Since finding out what she could do had taken a good portion of the rest of day, I’d sleep on it and come up with a training plan tomorrow. While they were in school, I’d have plenty of time to think on my shift down at the bay. Being a rescue pegasus in what is usually a pretty safe place was almost always boring, and it gave me lots of time to think about how to help ponies.

I sent Gabriella inside, where my little Star was undoubtedly waiting to show her not only chapter three but the fourth and maybe fifth ones as well. Meanwhile, I had a few chores to do before it was time to make them supper.

As I passed by the sitting room a few times, I saw lights and the sound of my colt’s voice. I noticed that it was often interrupted by Gabriella’s questions and occasional laughter. From what she asked, it seemed that griffon tales were rather more grim than ours. Seeing as I was in the middle of cooking a bunny for her to eat, I could understand why…

Once supper was over, Rising went off to write in his journal, which was in a book identical to the one Guiding used for his captain’s log. He always used it when his father was at sea, and then they compared when Guiding got back. He didn’t have much to write about other than practicing his magic to make the story more interesting for Gabriella, so I tucked him in to bed soon after. I gave him a kiss and a wish for a good night’s sleep without asking for Luna to visit his dreams like some ponies had started doing. She must have had more important things to do than visit a little foal’s slumber, as nice as that sounded. And besides, the chances that she would visit his were so low that it was best not to get his hopes up.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to do anything to put Gabriella to sleep; I found her already curled up on her bed, just like a cat. I wished I had needed to do something, though. I felt almost cheated out of getting to help.

I sighed and went up to my cold, lonely bed. Was it wrong that I wanted my son to have a bad dream and hop in bed with me? It was, definitely, was my last thought before I fell asleep too.

Author's Note

Thanks to my editors: SaiKimura and Cynewulf.

The Waiting Game

Though I wished I could have another full day to help Gabriella get used to living with us, I still had to send her off to school with Rising. He gave me his usual goodbye hug, and he told me his plans for the day, but Gabriella only nodded once and thanked me. She seemed… “reserved” would be a nice word for it, but it felt closer to “detached.”

As I went through my day, keeping watch over the harbor, it occurred to me that maybe she acted like Guiding, only letting a few really close friends know how she actually felt — and then only in private. I just had to become somepony she trusted.

It became abundantly clear that she really needed somepony like that. When Rising got home, he told me about how, when Gabriella met up with him at recess, everypony he hung out with drifted away.

That was just awful. Worse, I knew it wasn’t only something that happened with the foals; lots of adults, who should know better, shied away from her kind. They weren’t ponies, but they weren’t monsters. We shouldn’t treat them like they had a disease or something. Guiding got more up in arms than I did about making sure that we treated everyone with respect, and we both made sure to raise our son right. But I could do more than that; I could lead by example.

So, I made sure to train Gabriella where everypony could see us, right in the middle of the park. We got a lot of weird looks, and a good number of ponies gave us a wider berth than they needed to for the gusts we made. I mean, other pegasi ran more extreme training routines throughout the park, and nopony avoided them as much as us. I planned to keep going to that one spot until everypony got used to us.

Later that night, my little Star continued his tradition of not quite getting the point of a logbook by telling me what he wrote in it. His friends had never disappointed him before, not like this. I made sure to point out that, only a couple days before, he’d also been a little hesitant to befriend Gabriella, and his father and I had needed to talk him up to it.

To his credit, though, he sure tried his best to continue fixing his attitude towards griffons. The very next day, he tried making friends with the one in his class, Iron Claw. Rising had heard that a couple of nice ponies had adopted Iron at a young age, which explained the name to some extent.

When my little colt approached him, Iron flew off before Rising could even talk to him. Way back in my memory, I saw foals running and flying from me, and more recently, a griffon chick cowered. I preferred to think of myself as intense or enthusiastic, but sometimes I just ended up scaring ponies, so I knew how he felt. Though, I couldn’t imagine my little colt doing anything to get that reaction.

That night, a mailbox enchanted to let us send letters back and forth with Guiding — one of his few indulgences — activated. We always waited for him to send the first letter since the first few days he had to load up cargo from the other ports on the way. In his message, he told us how much he missed us and how the trip had gone so far. They had set out to deeper waters earlier in the day, and they would hit the weather-pegasi-driven trade winds after a few more hours’ sailing. He also said that he’d take letters from Gabriella to her parents.

Rising responded like usual, telling his father about what he had learned in school and his friends. Then, he asked me if he should get Guiding’s advice for how to talk to Iron Claw. I was right there, but if he wanted to ask his dad, I knew Guiding would love to tell him how to approach the situation. So, that went in his letter.

Gabriella didn’t want to write to her parents, and I understood that. It was weird at first, when we started writing to him. Rising was barely old enough to string a sentence together, let alone write it legibly, so I always had to help. And it had felt strange, writing love letters to him. At least, that’s how it had started out. But by now, it was a part of normal everyday life. As I wrote what had to be my hundredth letter to Guiding, I thought Gabriella would warm to the idea like I had.

When I went to pick them up from school the next day, I couldn’t find them right away. After a few minutes of searching for him and not yelling at the teachers — I was talking at a reasonable volume for the situation! — I found them behind the school. As it turned out, Guiding gave Rising very good advice… but about eight hours too late; Gabriella had already figured out how to fix the situation. By the time his response had come in the next day, Rising had talked to Iron thanks to her intervention. Just like Guiding thought, Iron Claw saw Rising as another one of the “cool foals” who would make fun of him. And just as Guiding wrote, Gabriella managed to convince him otherwise.

So, that left me with another griffon in the house for the weekend — Rising invited Iron for a sleepover. Granted, he had guests over often enough anyways — the little social butterfly — but usually I got some sort of warning. I couldn’t blame him, though. Sometimes, you needed to make a big gesture to impress somepony and gain their trust. Really, I brought this on myself, bringing him up like I had. And besides, I really liked having a full house. The more, the merrier, I always said.

Iron Claw’s adoptive parents, an old earth pony and pegasus couple, brought him over for the weekend, and things went pretty well, considering Rising, Iron, and Gabriella hadn’t really ever played together before. They relaxed around each other by the second day and looked pretty tired. I’d heard them whispering late into the night. But after a bleary-eyed morning where they all nearly fell asleep at breakfast, Iron had to leave.

We fell into the rhythm of everyday life with Guiding away. We got a letter every few days from him, and Rising went to his friends’ homes to play pretty much every other day and even went to a cute-ceañera. He got a little pouty when he had to explain what they meant to Gabriella, so I had to give him the time-honored speech about how the late bloomers are the most beautiful. Gabriella absorbed this for a while, watching us quietly, then very calmly and respectfully said we ponies were an odd bunch for letting our rears guide our lives. I couldn’t figure out how she managed not to sound insulting, but I chalked up good portion of it to her accent. As a nine-year-old colt, Rising was obligated to start making butt jokes, and we all ended up laughing together. All in all, that day had gone well, I’d say.

That night, Gabriella even admitted that I cooked terribly. I wasn’t a chef by any means, but I’d thought I cooked at least decently. Apparently there was more to cooking meat and fish than throwing it in the oven. Now, I wouldn’t let “terrible” describe anything about me, so I resolved to get better. I planned to talk to the griffons who sold me Gabriella’s food and get their input. Celestia help me, but I planned to become the best meat-cooking pony in Baltimare, not that it would take much effort — I could probably count my competition on my primaries.

On one of the days Rising accompanied Gabriella and me to her training, he talked to me while she practiced making clouds. Gabriella had avoided him in school for the past few days. That seemed really odd to me since they got along so well at home. As we watched her pull together another cloud, he commented on how her leylines seemed weaker than the week before. He hadn’t needed to tell me; though I couldn’t see that directly, most of the progress I’d made with her seemed to have eroded. I needed to keep a better eye on her and figure out what was going on. I told Rising to leave the worrying to me.

Of course, that had the very opposite effect, which I should have seen coming. Only a couple days later, my little Star came to me about something she had told him. He willingly let out that Gabriella would have preferred going to the boarding school. Though he clearly wanted to avoid telling me what else she’d said, I needed to know to help, and he, as always, spilled secrets like a drunken pony with a full mug.

Bullies. Celestia-damned bullies made her lose sleep at night.

He said he planned to tell the teachers the next day. It was cute that he thought that would work. Cute, but wrong. No, the bullies would find a way; they always did. The only ways to deal with bullies were to beat them up — which was unfortunately against the rules — or to find a group of friends and cling tight. Sometimes the two went hoof in hoof.

The day after that little talk, Gabriella caught up with me while I patrolled the bay. That she had voluntarily flown here scarcely mattered once she told me how she’d carried Rising home after his stunt.

My little Star had issued an ultimatum, and it had gone poorly. I sent her back to him then rushed off to get somepony to take over my shift. Somehow, I still got home just before her — I usually don’t fly too fast, but my son needed me.

A while had passed since the confrontation at recess, but I could still tell he’d cried from the hitch in his voice and how he kept sniffling. Haltingly, he told me how he’d gathered everypony together at recess and said that anypony who wouldn’t be nice to Gabriella and Iron Claw was no friend to him.

Those sort of things always worked in the books, he explained. Gabriella shook her head and laid his on her shoulder. I think my heart melted a little, and I wrapped my wings around both of them. Having two children in my embrace felt so right… like we were a family. Then we all wrote to our loved ones while eating from a tub of ice cream. Ice cream’s true reason for existing, after all, was to make sad ponies happy.

Guiding responded that same night, saying how he felt sorry Rising had to go through his friends abandoning him. But most of his letter said Rising should expect to lose the ponies who didn’t really care for him and he should probably be a lot more selective with his friends. It seemed a bit… harsh to put it like that, but considering how many ponies Rising considered his friends, maybe some tough love was exactly what he needed. Guiding’s letter ended on a positive note, though. He said to focus on his remaining friends all the more, as only they truly mattered. Even better, they had entered the home stretch of the voyage, leaving only a week till we met again.

In that remaining time, Rising spent most of his free time with Gabriella and Iron Claw, who occasionally accompanied us to Gabriella’s training. He helped her get a better idea of how to shape clouds, which she still struggled with after about a month of work — despite cloud-shaping interesting her more than lightning or wind.

Rising talked so much about how they used their leylines for pretty much everything, and that always confused Gabriella, who came from a land with no unicorns. I tried to get them to go to bed earlier, but they both seemed so interested, and I hated breaking up a good conversation between friends.

One offhoof comment from me about how he could explain easier if they could just see the leylines at work had an unexpected outcome. Rising came up with a surprise for Gabriella and Iron Claw. Honestly, it surprised me too. I guessed he must have worked on a spell for a while, as he told Gabriella and Iron he could let them see their leylines while they practiced. Then he just did it. It was unheard of — at least to me. Then again, I’d never gone for higher education. Maybe somepony somewhere used this for something, but I’d never seen the veins of energy running over their bodies and flicking from their wings.

While they trained — very distractedly — I kept an eye on my little Star’s flank. If this didn’t earn him his cutie mark, nothing would. I mean, it was a spectacle. At least three or four pegasi crashed into trees. Meanwhile, Rising seemed to think nothing of it, just suggesting ways to blend their usual methods of calling lightning with pegasus ways.

His cutie mark never appeared. It made about as much sense as Princess Twilight badmouthing friendship.

That night, I wrote to Guiding in private about it. Even though I knew he’d be back any day, I felt like I needed to say something. I’d never worried about Rising’s future, since I saw so much potential in him, but now… That was the sort of thing I would have expected from somepony who’d already had an illusion-related cutie mark for years.

It was pretty late after I sent the letter and went to tuck him in to bed. But I found his room empty, so I went looking for him downstairs, thinking he was probably reading quietly to Gabriella while hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble for staying up late. I found them together like I expected, but he wasn’t reading. The two of them lay curled up on her bed, sleeping, and one of her wings covered him like a blanket. It reminded me so much of how Guiding and I slept that I had to put a hoof to my mouth to stifle whatever sound decided to come out. It escaped as some combination of coo, gasp, and sob. Looking at them, I couldn’t help but think about how close they had grown over the past month or so. If they spent too much more time together, I might end up with hippogriff grandfoals! I went to bed smiling at the silly, strange thought.

Once news of Rising’s spell got into the school, some of his friends trickled back to him. But Rising used what I think his father would call his “social capital” to help Gabriella and Iron Claw make some new friends. If they were the type who would leave when times got tough, I wasn’t sure if the gesture would really help, but then, some friends seemed better than none.

When I woke, I saw a letter from Guiding had come in overnight. He would finally get back later that day — after school got out, too. We could talk about Rising then, he said. I’d have to keep myself from pulling my mane out while on patrol. The last few hours of waiting definitely took the longest.

I had a long day in front of me.

Author's Note

Thanks to my editors: SaiKimura and Cynewulf.

With Great Power…

The speck hovering among the clouds, watching over the bay, must be my wife. Cadence, she was a sight for sore eyes — even as just a dot.

Still, we were, by my reckoning, an hour-and-a-quarter out. I had responsibilities, though, so I tried putting my thoughts of being wrapped in her powerful wings out of my mind.

From his position in the air above the Dancing Leaf, my lookout called down some observations, and I issued orders to my crew. Then, I turned my attention downward. When we’d left, my charts had been a couple months out of date. Between the winds, tides, and occasional sea monster attacks, the local branch of the Cartographers’ Guild faced a constant battle to keep track of the shifting sand bars. They put out new charts like clockwork every four months, but more than three months later, they were as accurate as a blind pony’s dead reckoning.

The port authority usually sent out ponies to help bring ships in partially for that reason, but they’d stopped bothering with that for me and a few other unicorn captains, those of us who had a way to compensate. I didn’t usually think about my cutie mark, but Squall’s letter had it on my mind. A sextant, for my keen eyes. Since I’d gotten it, they’d only gotten sharper, as I learned new spells to improve them. They all had their place, some for seeing at night, some for magnification, but probably the hardest one to dig up and master let me get away with never needing to sound for depth.

To be honest, casting spell wasn’t that hard, but it placed a huge mental strain on its caster. When I lit my horn, my leylines spooled out through the focus of my vision. They fed visuals back to me, letting me see everything they penetrated. Through the deck, the cargo, the hull, and the water, I could see the sand below, and bedrock passed into my vision whenever it cropped up high enough. I just tried to avoid looking through ponies — it made me want to puke.

I grabbed the wheel and navigated by hoof. For the most part, unicorns could only control a single type of leylines at a time — trying to do more was like trying to move all your limbs in different patterns all at once. It was possible if you trained for it, but it was far easier to compensate other ways.

After a few minutes, I needed to rest my mind, so I looked up. Not wanting to recast the spell, I let my leylines sweep up, my vision blurring and curving. I leaned on a railing — that nauseated me like no storm could. Shaking it off, I searched for Squall again.

Gone. Probably picking up Rising and Gabriella, given the time.

Rising and Gabriella burst from the schoolyard as they caught sight of me.

“How close is Dad? How much longer?” he asked, bounding alongside me.

“Und mine parents, they are close, yes?” Gabriella kept up easily, her talons clicking on the cobbled streets.

I smiled and quickly nuzzled them as we made our way down the street. I wasn’t taking them home; we were headed straight for the docks. All through my shift, I’d watched as the Dancing Leaf approached. By now, they were only about half an hour away, maybe less, and I told them as much. Luckily, we took twenty minutes to get to the docks if we ran. Rising had, of course, timed us before.

We drew some odd looks as we dashed down streets and around corners. Rising panted as the docks came into view, but Gabriella and I still breathed evenly.

“Keep going. I’ll see where they are,” I said before taking off. A great headwind blew at me, which helped me ascend effortlessly, and I spotted Guiding’s ship. We still had time. They were almost here, but still needed to dock and tie off and all that good nautical stuff.

A crack from below drew my attention. A second and a third followed it, and I finally placed it: rope snapping. Ice gripped my heart as a wall of shipping crates gave way. It felt like everything went in slow motion as the crates tumbled towards the crowded street.

“Look out!” I screamed.

Light blazed below me, and my body tingled. A sea of red surrounded the boxes, and they reversed direction, rocketing off into the sky.

Dear Princesses, that magic hadn’t been used on me, and yet I’d felt it… and it had felt incredibly familiar. I twisted to find Rising — it was not hard. A corona of power surged around his horn, and his eyes shone a hot white, which hurt to even think about. How he shook and trembled hurt more. His forelegs buckled, and he tumbled to the ground, his horn still shining.

Dimly, I was aware of all the unicorns clutching their horns, but I only cared about getting to my son. As I dove, Gabriella shook him.

“Star! Rising Star, stop! Ze danger has passed!”

I slammed to the ground and pulled him to my chest. “Mommy’s here. It’ll be alright. I’m here…”

“Good,” he mumbled as he slumped against me, the light mercifully leaving his eyes and his magic fading. “Did I…?”

“Everypony’s safe. You did great. You did so great,” I said, stroking his mane.

His eyes closed, and his muscles relaxed. He must have passed out.

After a few moments, Gabriella asked, “Squall, is Star okay? What happened? I have never seen him lift anything weighing more than himself — how did he manage it?”

I didn’t get to answer before the ponies in the street crowded us, pushing and babbling and thanking us, which I would usually welcome, but when my son was unconscious, I found it a lot less fun. Looking around, I saw mostly unicorns and earth ponies with a smattering of zebras. That meant we could ditch them.

I turned to Gabriella. “We’re going. Now.”

She nodded, and we took wing. I cradled Rising against my chest. I had only one place in mind, and as Gabriella and I rose into the wind over the rooftops, we rushed to the Dancing Leaf.

Baltimare erupted with light. I and all my unicorns staggered under the onslaught.

“What in Tartarus—?” I knew that magic beneath all that raw power. “Rising!”

Oh Celestia, what had happened to him? A moment later, I got my answer, as a tangled web of his leylines flew off into the sky. They bled magic, pouring it out into the world from their severed ends.

I felt like I’d been bucked in the neck. I crumpled to the deck, a strangled cry dying in my throat.

It shouldn’t have been possible. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have had that much magic to give — he’d just be a shriveled husk of a foal. Princesses, not my son too… It was like Dad all over again.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until my tears were brushed away, and it took me another moment to realize it had been a claw to do it.

Gregor stared at me, his crest raised. “Captain Guiding, what is ze problem? Some of your crew collapse, and you begin to cry. Are we under attack?”

“N-no. My son… his magic…” I swallowed and shook my head, a tiny motion.

Gertrude pointed off into the sky. “Zat is him, no? Ze one who looks like you, as I remember.”

Turning, I saw Squall flying towards us, carrying our son in her forelegs. She was still functioning, so by some miracle, Rising must still be alive.

“Thank Celestia,” I said, slumping against a railing.

Gertrude tilted her head. “I still do not understand this custom of thanking your princesses when they have done nothing. We do not thank our king unless he has…”

She trailed off as I glared at her. This was not the time to discuss cultural differences. This was time to either celebrate or call EMTs. I stood, biting my lip as Squall and Rising, and Gabriella too, approached the ship.

Seeing her face let me finally breathe again. She kept checking up on him as she flew, and you don’t check dead bodies, not like that.

When Squall got to the railing at the edge of the ship, I opened my cabin’s door and asked, “How is he? What happened?”

She landed and passed our son to me. I took him in my magic and cringed. His body seemed fine, but magically, he was a mess. His leylines were tattered, broken off, or even missing. As I carried him into my cabin and laid him on my bed, a new one bubbled up from inside him. I shuddered. Magical overload, it had to be.

After Squall explained what had happened to me, it confirmed what I’d assumed. That had been Squall’s guess too.

Gabriella looked between Rising and her parents, almost fidgeting. They nodded to her, and her head whipped towards me. “Will he recover? Star will be okay, yes? He is… a good friend to me.”

I nodded. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine. He’ll probably wake up in eight, maybe ten hours, and feel like he’s got the worst hangover ever. Not that I have any personal experience with this, but from what I understand, it’s one of those things that if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.”

Squall laughed once. “Yeah, this is the sort of thing you hear happened to your cousin’s friend’s niece who lives in Canterlot. Nopony ever thinks their filly or colt will put out over thirty thaums in a single spell; that’s the sort of thing that pretty much guarantees entry to—”

My eyes went wide at the same time as Squall’s. “Out. Please, get out now. This room is about to get very, very cramped, or my name isn’t Guiding Star.”

“But I want to stay with Rising!” Gabriella said, scooting closer to him.

From the side of the room, a whine and a green glow filled the room.

“After,” Squall said. “We just got extremely busy with higher education.”

A rush of displaced air preceded an old unicorn stepping into the room. “Highest education, actually, both in literal and metaphoric senses. Canterlot nobles and their height restrictions on Cloudsdale and Los Pegasus, you understand.”

From what I remembered of my history classes, those had been lifted over three centuries ago. More importantly, what types of leylines were those, surrounding him? I’d never come across any like them in my life… but they felt like déjà vu.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Stop Watch, head professor of Chronomancy at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, unicorn of the fifteenth order, and, as always, the first recruiter on scene. I must say, you made a good decision to send him to us; he graduated a full year-and-a-half early!”

I had to keep my jaw from dropping, and Squall’s wings flared out. Fifteenth order? I was only a fifth, on track for sixth by forty. That stallion couldn’t have been much over sixty, could he? With time magic, though…

He smiled widely at us widely, too widely. “I’ll see you in six hours four minutes nineteen seconds, when you make your decision. I’ll bring the paperwork by hoof! Tootles.”

His head whipped to the side, and he stared at the wall. We all turned to look at the spot, but there didn’t appear to be anything special about it. “Oh yes, this was unpleasant. Earplugs?” he asked.

I regarded him for a couple seconds before catching Squall’s eye. She shrugged with her wings, and I turned back to face Stop Watch. “Thank you, but I think we’ll be fine.”

“Your ears won’t be thanking you, but suit yourselves.” Another burst of magic later, he disappeared.

The griffons stared at us. We stared back. Gertrude opened her beak and, after a second, said, “Zis is not normal, I take it.”

“No,” Squall replied, stretching the vowel. “It’s really not.”

Gertrude picked up Gabriella. “We will give you privacy. Best of luck go with you.” Gregor echoed his wife’s sentiments. As they opened the door and walked out, Gabriella looked back over her shoulder, crestfallen.

Her father and mother stopped and looked to the side. “Another not normal thing approaches, Captain Guiding,” Gregor said.

I let out a long, slow breath and ran a hoof through my mane. As reflexively as turning my head to look, I extended some of my leylines through the wall in the direction Gregor’s head pointed. Outside, a bunch of magic, which felt a lot like what Rising had done earlier, hurtled towards us.

A vaguely pegasus-feeling ball of leylines touched down onto the ship’s deck. A moment later, the griffons squawked as a slim unicorn shoved past them. That guy sent warning signals through me; something about this stallion was off. Even with his spell released, his mix of leylines was very odd — it definitely felt almost like a pegasus’ blend. A burst of his magic swung the door closed, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“I am Weight Class, a unicorn of the eleventh order, as you are no doubt aware.”

Princesses preserve me! I thought my ears were going to bleed. His damned voice was the worst thing I’d ever heard, and I clearly remembered the screams of a six-headed monster that had been struck by lightning. Was this why nopony ever saw him?

He surveyed the room, his eyes barely noticing Squall and only briefly stopping at me before his gaze settled on my son.

“He’s the one!”

Weight Class stomped to my bed. “This one managed a full-cast gravity reversal with amplification. But it was sloppy and wasteful. As the head professor of Gravitasmancy, I can attest to that. In a single class, I could improve his form ten-fold.”

His nose rose towards the ceiling as he preened, and my eardrums welcomed the brief reprieve.

“But not only that, no, for gravity manipulation is something that any old pegasus can do, and my field is so much broader than just that. In my upper-level classes, I pass my mastery of the other fundamental forces to my students.”

I furrowed my brow. I didn’t like how he kept emphasizing himself. Aside from it feeling like having ice picks driven into my skull, I got the distinct impression that this stallion couldn’t be more self-absorbed if he tried.

Another bunch of leylines appeared in the room, and for a second, I thought that they had come from Weight Class. But they felt completely different — I actually recognized this type.

“Hello,” a warm alto voice said. “I’m Decibel Level, head professor of Audiomancy at CSGU. Your foal is very talented and will most likely attend, so I cordially welco—”

Weight Class scowled and talked even louder, his shrieking, grating voice drowning out the rest of her message. “This mare is nothing compared to me, only an eighth order. Little wonder she didn’t bother saying it. And that field is so pathetically light that she needed to cross-train to even make that.”

Squall and I looked at one another. Even she knew that practically all unicorns trained in more than one field of magic. That explained his weird leylines; if he was eleventh order and refused to train in fields other than his, that meant he had over ten thousand leylines devoted to Gravitasmancy — over eleven thousand if he was completely neurotic and hadn’t even gotten two thousand through using telekinesis. He struck me as the type of insane purist who would have avoided that, too.

“As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” he continued, forcing our ears down once more, “my field encompasses all the fundamental fields. Most unicorns erroneously believe otherwise, but I straighten them out. In my highest class, I reveal the secrets of true alchemy, not that fakery, potion-brewing nonsense the stupid zebra do.”

I briefly considered murder. Everything I’d suspected about him from the beginning seemed true, and then he only added to it with racism. I ground my teeth as he stared at me, probably expecting shock about his revelation of the deeper nature of his magic.

“Get off my ship. Now.” He was lucky I didn’t buck him in the face to get him on his way. Squall snickered, and my ear flicked back to her.

His head tilted to the side, and it took him a second of glorious silence for him to think of what to respond. “Excuse me? You can’t tell me wh—”

“No, there is no excuse for you, and I can tell you what to do. I am the captain of this ship, and on it, my word is law.” I stepped closer to him and shoved my face in his. “Get off my ship.”

I shot my hoof out to point at the door as I opened it with my magic. I made sure to just barely miss hitting him in the face. He blinked and stumbled back almost to the door then glared at me. From my side, Squall took one stomping step towards him, her wings flared out, ready to fight.

Weight snorted and turned up his nose then walked out past the griffons still outside, pointedly ignoring them.

Motioning with my head, I called them back in. After all that, we needed some agreeable company, and given which disciplines of magic remained, I doubted we would get more visitors.

“We listened in,” Gregor said.

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the door. “If you vould like, we can dispatch him — free of charge!”

Squall burst out laughing, and after the older griffons joined in, even I chuckled a bit. It was a tempting offer.

Gabriella seemed to be the only one not laughing. She stood beside the bed, staring towards my son’s flank. My eyes widened. I poked Squall right in the center of her life preserver cutie mark, which I found strangely appropriate.

She turned, and we both joined Gabriella in staring. My son had a cutie mark — but I could only wonder how I’d missed it earlier. This was a huge moment.

Gabriella looked back to us. “What does it mean?” she asked, gesturing at the image.

Its center was a shooting star with two smaller ones breaking symmetrically from it, but they faced upwards rather than down.

Smiling, I said, “Star cutie marks have historically been associated with magic, and that’s only increased with Princess Twilight’s ascension. I can’t really say I’m surprised.”

Squall raised an eyebrow. It seemed she had a different take on it. “There’s that, but they’re also… well, rising. Maybe —” she grimaced “— it could mean it’s for gravity magic.”

“For all of your sakes,” Gregor said, “I hope zat is not ze case. Could it simply be zat he will continue ascending through ze ranks of magehood?”

“I like your idea better,” Squall said. “Let’s go with that one.”

“You are welcome, but I must admit my ignorance of protocol in this situation,” Gregor said.

Gertrude looked between us. “Congratulations of some sort are in order, I would expect.”

“Mother, Father, there is no true protocol for this. You can do whatever you wish. Though, there is traditionally a party.” Her gaze seemed stuck on the floor as I swore I caught a hint of blush through her white face feathers. “I would like to stay for it, please. He has become my most cherished friend.”

As her parents conversed, I recalled how a griffon messenger had delivered a summons to them about a week ago.

It sounded like there was a lot of negativity in what I overheard from them, so I spoke up. “We could probably pull together a cute-ceañera in a few days.”

“Atch, zat is no good. It was only though a binding contract zat we gained more time; without one, we have already stayed too long. I am sorry, Gabriella,” he said, turning to her.

“But— but he stood up for me when I needed him. Am I not honor-bound to be there for him?” She backed up a bit to sit closer to Rising.

I saw Squall go to say something, but I shook my head at her very slightly. She nodded once and frowned before turning away. This was between them, and I felt like bigger, nation-sized forces drove it.

Gabriella’s parents went and sat beside her. Placing her talons on her daughter’s shoulder, Gertrude sighed. “You are right. Normally, zat would be a valid excuse, but our king is less lenient now. Were it not for ze strange sight upon our arrival, we would be on our way now. Gabriella, we must go.”

Gabriella stared down at the floor between her paws, her wings drooping. “Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.”

“Captain Guiding Star, it has been a pleasure working for you,” Gregor said, nodding at me. “But now we must go. Calm skies for your hunting grounds.”

I gave the response, keeping an eye on Gabriella. Her gaze kept returning to my son as she said, “Good bye, Squall, and thank you. Living with you and Star was… nice.”

Gertrude nudged her daughter and motioned to me with her head.

“Oh, and I am sure I would have liked you as well, Mister Star.” She perked up, her head feathers rustling. “Could we return here later, Father?”

He looked eastward out one of my windows, toward their homeland. “No… I do not think zat we will. But come — we have dallied too long, and we must fly.”

I frowned. Their situation seemed to have gone bad, and I had no idea how to help.

As they walked from my cabin and Gabriella cast one last glance back, Squall called out. “Wait!”

They stopped, and her mother stuck her head back in over her daughter’s. “Yes? What is it?”

She pointed at my enchanted mailbox I used to communicate with my other ships and them. It took me a second, but I got her drift, and I picked it up. I didn’t look forward to getting this sorted out, but it had to be done. I found the leyline which seemed to have the closest destination and then, screwing up my eyes, cut the others. I’d have to find some way to alert everypony to the temporary breakdown of communications.

“Take this. You can write to him. Be pen pals!” Squall said, beaming.

I levitated it over to Gabriella.

“I… Thank you. I will write as soon as I am able. Good bye!” With a glimmer of tears in her eyes, she turned and fled.

Squall took a half-step after Gabriella, her hoof hesitating in the air. Then she bit her lip and rested it on our son. As much as I would like to see the griffons off, I had to stick by Rising.

I cringed as another leyline oozed from his side and started snaking up to his horn. Along with the tattered stubs of far, far too many of his other ones, it was just like looking into an open wound. For the first time ever, I felt glad Squall couldn’t see them.

I turned to her and tried to put his condition out of my mind. “Come on, Squall. Let’s get him into his own bed,” I said, reaching for him with my magic.

I stopped short an instant before I could grab him. I didn’t know if that could hurt him or not, and remembering back, I hoped I hadn’t accidentally injured him before. Was this like how you’re not supposed to move a physically injured pony?

Deciding not to risk it, I picked him up by hoof and, thanks to Squall crouching, placed him on her wide back. She moved her shoulders, settling him more comfortably over her withers, and I could only appreciate her strength and the way her muscles rippled beneath her coat.

Squall sighed. “As good as it was having Gabriella, I missed you. And I think we missed ‘hello.’”

I nuzzled her cheek. “Hello, dear.”

“Mmm, hello.”

The nuzzle quickly turned into a kiss, one that only barely began making up for lost time. When we pulled away, we both sighed at the same time, and Squall laughed.

Together, we headed out, and I looked up for my first mate, Wind Whisper, who I found about halfway up the mast.

“Family emergency!” I shouted to her. “Keep up the good work.”

I didn’t need to check her work; I wouldn’t have given her the position if I wasn’t confident in her abilities.

We left, the calls of support from my crew ringing in our ears.

I needed to get home so I could finally think.

Author's Note

Thanks to my editor, Cynewulf.

Ancestry

I woke with a small hoof pressed against my side. I knew without opening my eyes that it belonged to Rising. My next thought was how it was crushing my bladder.

I nuzzled my son then got up and went to relieve myself. When I returned, Squall was hugging Rising and smiled at me. I smiled back; the sight embodied all of what I wanted from life, my loved ones happy and together.

“Trade you,” I said, and Squall climbed out of bed. As she passed me by, she kissed me goodmorning.

I sat beside the bed and watched my son’s barrel rise and fall, wondering when he had gotten so big. He’d certainly been smaller when I’d left, not even two months ago. Then again, he hadn’t had a cutie mark either.

It drew my gaze. He’d be overjoyed; nopony could fully contain their emotions when their cutie mark showed up. But as I looked at it and thought of the story I would have to tell him. It reminded me of his great-grandfather’s.

I shivered.

Then he moved, stretching out for comfort, and he yawned. “Ow,” he said, drawing it out with the yawn. He brought his forehooves to his head and closed his eyes tighter.

I nuzzled his cheek. “Good morning, Rising. You had a big day yesterday. How do you feel?”

He groaned. “My… everything hurts.”

That didn’t surprise me. He looked a lot better after a good night’s rest and Soothing’s ministrations, but he still didn’t look healed. I levitated over the vial she had given us and unstoppered it.

I slid a hoof behind his head and tilted it upward. “Drink this,” I said and put it on his hoof.

He took a sip from it, all there was, really. The effects only took a few seconds to kick in — the biggest benefit of healing magic was its speed. He slumped back, limp, and sighed.

“Wow, Dad, what was that?” he asked, eyes still closed. Then, he gasped, and they shot open. “Dad!”

He wrapped his forelegs around my neck and hugged me tightly. I patted him on the back. “Hello to you too.”

He pulled back. “Whoa, that wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“If you mean saving a dozen ponies’ lives, not even a little. Why don’t you go to the bathroom? We’ll talk at breakfast.”

His brow furrowed as his lower lip stuck out. “You don’t have to tell me to use th— Never mind! I’m going!”

He squirmed out of bed and ran for the bathroom. It figured, given that he’d been out for about sixteen hours. I got up and followed him out, making my way to the kitchen, where Squall was making cream of wheat.

“You didn’t tell him about his cutie mark?” she asked. “I thought for sure I’d hear—”

A whoop came from the bathroom. “My cutie mark! I finally got it!”

I shrugged. “I figured he’d like a nice surprise when he saw himself in the mirror. Sounds like he enjoyed it to me.”

Rising bounded into the room, beaming ear to ear. “Mom, Dad, look! When did I get it, after the spell?” He stopped for a second. “Oh, come on, I slept through it.”

He pouted, and Squall and I laughed a bit. That was some serious mood whiplash, but foals were always spirited about their cutie marks.

“You know, Rising,” Squall said, “you’ll be able to read all about it in the paper today. You probably made the front page with something like that.”

Rising oohed and aahed, twisting around to look at his cutie mark and probably daydreaming about being in print. Meanwhile, Squall added some cinnamon sugar to the pot and deemed it ready, so I doled it out. No need to get a serving spoon dirty when perfectly good telekinesis would suffice and save on dishes.

Between bites as we ate, I said, “Rising, the papers aren’t the only ones who’re interested in you.” At that, it occurred to me that we’d probably end up seeing reporters before too long, but I shrugged it off. There were more important things to discuss.

“Really?” he asked. “Who?”

Squall laughed. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to guess? Think about it! Use that wonderful little brain your dad and I gave you!”

I looked at her. She always loved challenging him. So did I, but this time, she’d beaten me to it.

Rising’s face screwed up as he thought, and as time went on, he ate slower. After a couple minutes, he stopped entirely, a bite of steaming cereal halfway to his mouth. He looked up at us, wide-eyed.

“No way… Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?”

Of course he’d guess that — at some point, pretty much every unicorn dreams of attending it. For Rising, that dream would soon come true.

Squall’s wings flared. “Yes! I’m so happy for you, my little Star!”

He blushed. “Wow. Oh wow… That healing potion, it came from there, right?”

“You got a lot of visitors, some of the top professors. That was from Soothing Balm, head professor of—”

“Restauraremancy! I have so got to tell my friends about this.” He stopped, and the food he held fell into the bowl. “Where’s Gabriella…?”

“Oh, Rising… she had to leave right away. I’m sorry.” Squall reached out to place a hoof on his shoulder. “But your father gave her his enchanted mailbox, so you’ll be able to keep in touch. That’s something, at least.”

Rising sagged, his ears wilting. “Oh. I really wish I could have said bye.”

He went silent for a while after that, and we let him be. He had a lot to think about, and it was probably best to let him digest that before tossing even more on his plate. He stared down into his bowl after he finished eating but didn’t get up.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking up.

Squall glanced at me and shrugged. “For what, dear?”

“I stopped you from wrestling with Dad in bed when he got home, and I know how much you like that.”

If I’d had any food in my mouth then, I would have choked. As it was, I looked to Squall for guidance. Nothing about this had come up in her letters, but that didn’t mean something hadn’t come up. Luckily, she shook her head — that got to be a talk for a new day, one where he wasn’t about to have his world shaken.

I wished for more time, but reporters would probably arrive sooner than later, and I felt like there were things he needed to know as soon as possible.

I levitated over the letter Soothing had left for him. “Don’t worry about that, Rising. Your mother and I felt it was a lot more important to be there for you. And speaking of being there for you, this letter is.”

His horn started to glow, but he winced and took it with a forehoof. I broke the seal for him, and he took out the paper inside. He must really have gotten used to reading aloud because that’s what he did with it for us.

“Those here today are truly gifted in magic, more so than many thousands of others. Be proud of this, young mages, but also be wary. I have seen others rise to the same level you have only to stumble and meet unfortunate ends. Caution must be your byword — care, your guide — for the lives of those around you rest on your horns. You have surely felt your own power. You know that others could do little to stop you if you wanted them gone. And so you must be their protectors; otherwise, you will become monsters. One need only look to the vile Sombra to see what a mage of your caliber can become if acting in self-interest.

“As you delve deeper into the arcane mysteries, young mages, as you peruse charts and graphs, spells and formulae, keep your goal in mind lest you lose your way. Your goal, dear mages, is to bring light and hope to those around you, to give of yourself that all might benefit, and, at the end of the day, to know that only you could accomplish what you have. Your reward will be the love of your town, of your city, of your nation, possibly. That is for you to decide. What will you do with your great gifts, young mages? I truly look forward to seeing your successes.

“An excerpt from the first welcoming speech of Golden Dawn, Arch mage 203 to 249.”

Rising lowered the paper to the table and mouthed, “If you wanted them gone.” He looked up to Squall then to me. “Um… that didn’t seem… happy.”

No, it did not. In fact, it seemed like just the thing to bring me to what I had to say.

Squall looked down. “I… think I have to go to work. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

We said bye to her as she left more than a couple hours early than needed for her shift. When she had gone, Rising seemed to shrink. He looked up at me, his eyes big and wide. “Did I do something wrong, Dad?”

I sighed and shook my head before motioning for him to follow me. We went into the sitting room, and I got comfortable.

“Rising, you’re not in trouble, okay?” I put a hoof on his chest. “You are a good pony who did a very good thing. You have a good heart.

“But remember how I said we would talk about your great-grandfather when you were older?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes… I’m not going to like it, am I?”

I shook my head. “Black Star. That was his name, thanks to his mane. He was a lot like you, Rising. Instead of books, though, his passion was flowers. He loved everything about them: eating them, growing them, arranging them, you name it. So nopony was surprised when his cutie mark ended up being a small bouquet of Stargazer lilies. It was actually three, two separating away from one in the middle, a lot like yours.”

I traced the paths of the shooting stars on his flank. “Yes, it was a lot like yours. See, cutie marks are strange things. His — being Stargazer lilies — also represented magical aptitude. Naturally, he stuck to the discipline that helped a florist most. Can you guess what that is?”

He thought for a moment. “Mutamancy?”

“If only. No, alteration was a good guess, but he used Necromancy. Flowers which took months to wilt, flowers which lasted very specific lengths of time, flowers which smelled even better after being cut, these things made him a good florist.” I stopped talking, memories of my father telling me the same things running through my head.

Looking sidelong at me, Rising said, “I feel like there’s going to be a ‘but’ here.”

Nodding, I frowned. “You’d be right. But he always had one issue with the spells he used. The flowers turned black from their use. It made them very popular at funerals and for accents to certain dresses, like his wife’s wedding dress. But it galled him that his magical talent and his floral ones overlapped so narrowly. He tried for years to perfect his spells — until finally, he did.

“Practicing on Stargazer lilies, Black Star made a spell which kept the thing under its effect from changing. The flowers’ pink and white stayed the same, and it looked like he’d perfected his craft. It seemed as if they’d never died.”

“Dad…” Rising said, “this story isn’t going to end well, is it?”

He nuzzled against me, and I knew he wanted to be comforted, but the memories swirling in my head were dark things. Tartarus, I wanted to be comforted. Putting a foreleg over his withers, I pulled him to my side.

“Nopony knows what happened inside his head, Rising, but he snapped. I don’t understand it, and I hope I never do… He was going to have a foal…”

“Grandpa Shining Star?” Rising asked.

I nodded. “While his wife was pregnant, it got into his mind that the next great challenge to overcome was a little bigger than flowers. Towards the end of her pregnancy, he killed her, Rising, and he full-cast his spell into her. He could full-cast—just like you can.”

Rising pulled back, his mouth open and struggling to form words. If I didn’t finish now, I never would, so I pressed on.

“It worked… mostly. Ponies stopped seeing her go out. She stayed around or inside their home all the time. Nopony was too surprised. After all, the foal was due in a month. But then his parents came to visit to help them get through the foal’s birth. Nopony ever saw them again… alive. When his brother, Shooting Star, an archer, came back from his tour with the Guard, and he went to visit and got attacked by his dead parents. He only barely escaped.

“Everything went crazy, and Shooting Star eventually had to… put his brother down.”

Rising shuddered. “He killed him? That… It doesn’t seem real. That couldn’t have happened here.”

Arrow-studded lifeless bodies danced through my mind, and I swallowed hard before responding. “Oh, it happened.”

I felt Rising’s hoof on my shoulder. That by itself took me by surprise — he hadn’t been able to before. But then he nuzzled my cheek and asked, “Dad, are you okay? You look… awful.”

I hugged him to my chest, trying to find my voice again. He was my little colt, and I needed to put the past aside and live in the now.

It was hard to do with the memories so vivid.

“Rising,” I said, swallowing hard, “I’m telling you this because you remind me of him. You’re bright just like him. You’re powerful just like him. And you’re going to dive into the study of magic just like him. Having so much at your disposal can twist a pony, Rising, just like that letter said. I know you’re good because you’re my son, but I can’t guide you down this new path you’re on. From here on, you chart your own course, and all I can do is watch and hope for the best.”

He looked away, shoulders slumped, deflated. “It sounds like you knew him yourself…”

“I do — in a way. Shooting Star shared them with Shining Star in a Link, and he shared them with me.”

He lay down like what I’d said had weight he couldn’t carry, and I supposed it did. I couldn’t stand to see him like that. He was too young to have to deal with something like this, but it needed to be done. Still, I tried to soften the blow.

With a forehoof, I rubbed small circles over his withers. “Rising, I’m sure there are hundreds of ponies in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns who are a lot like him, but none of them do what Black Star did. One bad ancestor doesn’t make you bad; they just make for a cautionary tale. I know you will be a great pony one day. With what you did yesterday, you’re already off to a fantastic start, don’t forget!”

He pushed himself up and turned to look at me, cracking a bit of a smile. “Yeah… I am. And I’m just going to keep getting better and better. I promise I’ll only use my magic to help ponies, and I’ll never ever touch Necromancy again.”

My blood ran cold. “Again?”

He scrambled a couple hooves’ lengths away, ears flattening against his ears against his skull. “I just wanted to show Gabriella magic! I only wanted to show her as many types of magic as I could. She thought it was cool. But I only used a little, some grass in the lawn!”

“Hey, hey, Rising, it’s okay, really. Avoiding it entirely is probably overkill… but it’s comforting too.” I tousled his mane and forced a smile onto my face. “And besides, there are eleven other disciplines I’m sure you can master!”

I stood and waited for him to join me. “Now, enough of this awful stuff from forever ago. Let’s figure out what to say to the reporters who come looking for the colt who saved everypony and write your grandma a letter. Wouldn’t want her to miss your cute-ceañera, now would we?”

He grinned, and my smile became less forced. Maybe I was being superstitious because of his name, but I felt that his star was rising and this was only the beginning.

Author's Note

Thanks to my editor, Cynewulf.

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Comes Great Responsibility

We laid Rising in bed and ate supper in his room. Neither of us could bring ourselves to leave him for too long. I sat pressed up to Squall, relishing her closeness. I welcomed every feather of hers against my side, each of her sighs a soft reminder that I was home.

For a couple hours, we barely moved, both of us listening for a change in our son’s breathing as the sun set.

A knock at the door jolted us from our half-doze.

I looked to Squall. “Were you expecting anypony?”

A hoof rapped on our front door twice more in quick succession.

She shook her head, and I shrugged then stood. Heading downstairs, I thought it might be one of my crew who wondered if everything was okay. As I opened the door, I found a stranger.

The mare at the door came from Canterlot. For one, she actually wore clothes — a crisp, white vest — and a sky chariot was parked at the end of the street, gleaming in the moonlight.

“Hello?” Had she come from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns too?

“Hello, mister Star, I’m quite sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but I had classes throughout the day, and I lack the transportation abilities of my coworkers. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Soothing Balm, the head professor of Restauraremancy at CSGU.”

She hadn’t led with her order — I took a liking to her immediately. And she seemed to already know who we were. “Yes, come in. What brings you here so late? We’ve already been contacted by four other professors.”

“Yes, but I make it a matter of professional pride to visit all the prospective students who get in through magic overloads.” She smiled as she walked in. “So let’s see Rising. Maybe I can help him.”

I nodded, and we headed up the stairs and into Rising’s room. She inclined her head to my wife as she entered. “Good evening, Missis Line. Ah, and there’s the colt of the hour,” she said, looking over to Rising, who lay on his bed under the window, bathed in moonlight.

“Squall, this is Soothing Balm. She teaches healing magic, and she’d like to see about helping.”

“Oh, indeed I would. Your son seems to have done a number on himself. Tell me — did his eyes go white?” she asked, looking at him from a few different angles.

“Well, yes, they did,” Squall said. “You can tell that just by looking at him?”

Soothing looked at me and snorted lightly. “Pretty much any unicorn could. But for a more complete explanation, given the extent of the damage and how long it’s been since he sustained it, I can backtrack to approximately how much magic he used.”

“Wait, ‘damage’? I thought he was just tired! Is he going to be okay?” By the end of the outburst, Squall had pressed her muzzle right up to Soothing’s face.

She put a hoof up. “Don’t worry, Missis Line. This is a perfectly normal part of growing up for a powerful unicorn, which your son is. You mistook magical overload for magical exhaustion. Don’t feel bad; it’s a common enough mistake even among unicorns. Now, I could go on for a semester about the two, but suffice it to say that though Rising must have felt the need to full-cast a Gravitasmancy spell, he lacked the requisite training to do so in a way that minimizes the shock of severing one’s leylines.”

“Besides, Squall,” I said, “don’t you think I’d have brought him to the hospital if it had been dangerous?”

She put a hoof on Rising’s side. “Of course, right. I was just worried, you know?”

“A healthy respect for powerful magic is exactly what we like to see at CSGU. Hopefully your son has it like you do, Squall. May I call you Squall?”

My wife smiled, her teeth shining in the half-dark. “Absolutely, Soothing! Everypony does.” She looked over to Rising. “But you said you could help him…”

“Of course. I can only do a couple things since this is pretty much the magic equivalent of pulling a muscle, but they ought to help a bit. Not that I couldn’t repair that through magic, but—” She shook her head. “Ugh, I can’t explain this all in one night. There’s a reason restoration classes take seven years after choosing to specialize in them.”

She spread out some of her leylines towards Rising, and I noticed that they felt soothing, like her namesake. When they reached him, they slowed and began weaving through his. I recalled that restoring leylines were some of the few that couldn’t pass through others. My favourite discipline, illusion, passed through everything. Others, like telekinesis, could be one or the other but never both at once.

Her leylines sliced through the tattered ends of my son’s then did what I assumed was the magical analogue of cauterizing a wound. Soothing disentangled her magic from Rising’s, and the glow faded from her horn.

“Thank you,” I said. “That was very kind.”

She smiled. “Oh, I do try. Now, that’s pretty much the extent of what I can treat from a cause perspective, but I can do something to alleviate the symptoms he’ll feel when he wakes up. Just give me a minute.”

Squall looked back and forth between us. “A little help for the one without a horn? What’d you do?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Soothing said. “My bedside manner is a little lacking, being out of the field for so long and surrounded by other unicorns most of the time. When a unicorn full-casts, he or she needs to cut ties with his or her leylines. Even for a unicorn, though, it’s not a normal thing to do, and it usually takes a bit of training to get it right. Rising, here, didn’t so much cut his leylines as… Hm, I’m trying to think of a good analogy you would get. Would you happen to know what rope is like when it snaps?”

Squall grimaced. “That’s what caused this, actually.”

“Oh, sorry… That wasn’t in the report,” she said, wincing.

Then, her horn began glowing again. I felt a different type of magic work its way into whatever spell she was preparing. Two disciplines in the same spell? I really wished I could do that.

“As I was saying, cutting the leylines cleanly is vital. In fact, that’s part of what I’m going to do right now for you when I make a pain-reducing elixir.”

Two of her leylines floated out from her horn, and she worked their ends into a knot. As a sailor, I could appreciate its complexity. I sure wouldn’t want to try replicating it with ropes. The restoration magic ended up inside the other type — creation magic, I realized. Soothing pushed a pulse of energy down them, making her leylines swell. They were entwined in such a way that, as the wave filled them, their increased size pinched the tips off, and the spell completed.

A crystalline vial materialized in the air, and I caught it as Soothing shook her head and exhaled hard. “Multi-school full-casts always take a lot out of me. Can I have a moment to catch my breath?”

“By all means! You could even stay the night if you want!”

Laughing internally, I rolled my eyes. Typical Squall.

“No, I wouldn’t want to impose, and I have classes I need to teach tomorrow… in the afternoon, thank Twilight. Besides, I have a chariot waiting for me.”

Her reference to our newest princess seemed a bit odd; she was more often called on by the younger crowd, but Soothing was clearly at least my age, maybe as old as forty. I supposed it must be a Canterlot thing.

“Well, can I at least get you something? A drink, coffee maybe?” Squall asked.

“Yes, thanks,” Soothing said.

As Squall left to put the water on, I went back to staring at the vial in my grip.

Soothing sighed. “I never liked this part of the job, but, sir… I evaluated your son’s order and yours. It’s honestly reflexive for me since keeping track of students’ orders is part of my job.”

She trailed off, and I looked up from her conjured medicine. “And…?”

“You appear to be a fifth-order unicorn —” I nodded “— as for Rising, here… He’s at least halfway to sixth, given that he full-cast a Gravitasmancy spell. With a more thorough evaluation of his leyline count, I might find that he already makes sixth. In a year, with or without our guidance, he’ll be the one teaching you.”

My son showing me the ropes? My stomach churned. All unicorns’ magic grew through their lifetime, so parents typically outstripped their children for all their life. Granted, magical skills and strength grew at different rates, but Rising definitely wasn’t supposed to pass me just as he hit puberty.

“If it makes you feel better, this is a very common situation for the parents of our students. Magical aptitude strikes semi-randomly. But I did look through your family history — the Mages’ Guild keeps records of these sorts of things — and if you’re worried, you don’t need to be. Our school is dedicated to guiding the students to be model citizens.”

I felt my ears turn back. She could only have meant one pony with a comment like that. It seemed like this situation wanted to tear open every old wound I had even as it added new ones. I cleared my throat and said, “That is very reassuring. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

We fell into silence. As I listened to the water come to a boil, it occurred to me how odd it was to be in the same dark room as this mare. I considered turning on a light, which surely wouldn’t wake Rising, when Soothing spoke again.

“I wish I had this, you know.” She gestured vaguely. “Medical school, a practice, then becoming a professor… I never found time for a family of my own. And look at me now, almost too old to change that, and I’m not even trying.” She fell silent for a moment, staring at my son. Without turning, she said, “If I have any advice to give, make sure your colt doesn’t turn out like me. Making ninth by forty-three wasn’t worth it.”

I nodded. If that was part of the sales pitch, it was a strange one. At the same time, it was probably the best, too, at least in my eyes. It made the choice seem real in that it had dangers of its own. He wouldn’t have to worry about being dashed to pieces on submerged rocks, but societal dangers were no less real and often far harder to avoid.

“Sorry, I can get a touch melancholy at night. Ah, but there’s the coffee.” She drank from the mug Squall brought in then sighed again. “Thank you for your hospitality at this time of night.” She laughed. “Luna would approve, I think.”

She nursed her mug awhile before speaking again. “I’m looking forward to seeing your son in my classes. Memorization is key, but creativity is also vital, as my discipline deals less in power and more in precision.

She looked into her mug and took another sip. “It is very unlike Necromancy in that respect,” she added — almost as an afterthought.

Almost. I twisted a hoof, grinding it against the floor, and let out a breath slowly.

But no, she definitely had the unfortunate Canterlot tendency of being indirect. Couldn’t somepony just talk about the big issues without dancing around them? I hoped Rising didn’t pick that habit up too.

And then I realized I’d already decided.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, that’s very good, Professor Balm. But it’s late, and today has been trying — to say the least. If you have something to say, just say it.”

She sighed and set the mug, which sounded empty, on Rising’s nightstand. “Very well. As his parents, I know you don’t want to hear this, and I know that it’s unfair, but your family history is…”

If she refused to make her point, I would do it for her. “Black,” I said.

“Now hold on just a minute there! My little Star could never be like that stallion. He’s sweet and kind and good!”

I heard the strain in my wife’s voice as she kept herself from yelling.

“Be that as it may, the Guild, and thus the school, keeps records. If a strong pegasus such as yourself pulled together a storm and drowned an earth pony town, it would be a tragedy. But when a unicorn does something similar, it’s usually much more eye-catching and memorable. You must have experienced this for yourselves.”

Squall looked at me, probably thinking about when we’d first really met. My grandfather’s shadow had definitely changed things then, and it still did to some degree.

“The school will place certain limits on what he can study.”

My wife moved to sit pointedly by my side and said, “Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary. We can manage our son.”

Soothing rubbed her temples with her forehooves. “Look, I’m truly sorry about this. I don’t for a second think that an ancestor’s actions are anything to judge a pony by, but the Guild is old, and it has rules, and it’s an integral part of the school. We have to listen to them or else.”

I ground my teeth. They had stupid rules and prejudices, but she had just carried the message, apologetically at that.

She put a hoof up and got both of our attention. “Alright, we’re all tired, I still need to get back to Canterlot, and you two have a lot to talk about after all this. Why don’t we end this while we’re still on good terms, and hopefully we can all have a good laugh about this if I see you for a parent-teacher conference eventually,” she said and offered us a smile.

We nodded. My blood pressure must have already jumped up, so it was definitely for the best.

Squall sighed, which turned into a yawn, and covered her mouth with a forehoof. Once she lowered it, she said, “Soothing, I’m sorry for my tone. Forgive me?”

I joined my wife in apologizing.

Soothing waved a forehoof. “You’re both under a lot of stress, what with having significant life events stacking on each other. It’s… understandable. And thanks again for your hospitality,” she said, picking up her mug.

We walked with her down to the door, and as we stepped outside, she opened one of her vest’s pockets and pressed an envelope into my hoof. “This is for Rising when he wakes.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it,” I said.

Then we wished her goodnight and watched her chariot fly off. I got the strangest feeling of déjà vu as we did… but it came from behind me, back in the kitchen.

A moment later, a burst of magic emanated from what I felt pretty sure was right next to the sink.

Something from hours ago came back to me, and I turned. “It couldn’t be him, could it?”

“Who, dear? What’re you talking about?” Squall asked, cocking her head at me.

“Me to both!”

Stop Watch walked out of our kitchen and down our hall. He sipped a glass of water as he got to us. “What? Time travel is thirsty work. And here’s your application for your son.”

Squall stared at him, brow furrowed, mouth slightly open.

He gave me a sheaf of papers, which I took with my magic. “Couldn’t you have just sent these in the mail? And isn’t this breaking and entering?”

“Yes and no. Your wife so kindly invited me in when I asked for a drink a few w—”

“You! That’s why you look so familiar! He showed up a few days after you cast off and left a minute later. I never even thought to mention it.”

I snorted. Typical of Squall to let some thirsty, old pony in for a drink.

Stop Watch threw me a lazy salute. “And now, I awhen!”

His spell swallowed him up, and he disappeared in a flash. That left me holding everything we needed to get our son into the most prestigious school in the country. Looking at it, I shook my head and let out a breath.

Giving me a half-smile, Squall put a wing over me, and we walked up to our room. Together, we climbed into bed, and we cuddled nose to nose, the application forms and letter lying — most certainly not forgotten — on the kitchen table.

“Guiding, are you okay?” she asked, tracing a hoof over my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of my wife’s breathing, felt it play across my face. It soothed me as I thought of how to put words to what I felt. For all of my adult life, I’d known what I wanted for myself and my family. With my name and my cutie mark, that was who I was supposed to be.

This situation was only different in one way; I knew what I had to do, but it would change everything.

“Squall… we have to send him.”

She kissed my forehead. “I know, dear. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, how is it going to make you feel, not having Rising around?”

I felt her head turn away. Her breath no longer tickled my face. This time, she remained silent for a while.

“I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready at all, Guiding. We were supposed to have years before he left, but now…” Her voice caught. A moment later, her cheek settled on my neck. “Still haven’t said how you feel.”

I stroked her mane and rested my head between her ears. “I’ve always thought he would take after me. He showed a lot of promise in the logistics side of the business, you know.” I nuzzled her ears for a moment. “When has power been good in my family? But anypony can see that’s his calling. I can’t help him any more. He needs that school more than we need him…”

She lay quietly for so long after that I thought she had fallen asleep. Then she stirred and whispered, “I don’t think I can stand how empty the house will be.”

“Come with me,” I said. “I can always use another good pair of wings on the Dancing Leaf, and yours are the best I know.” I ran my hooves over them. I imagine she blushed at my compliment and touch.

“Guiding… you know I’d go anywhere with you.” She sighed. “It’s just… We have so little time — a couple months and the summer — then he’s gone.”

He wouldn’t be here whenever I returned. He wouldn’t be here with me, asking questions incessantly throughout the day. He wouldn’t be here, always trying to make me proud and always succeeding.

He’d be hundreds of miles away, in another city. It seemed like it might as well be another world.

I kissed Squall on the cheek and pulled back from her embrace.

She laughed softly in the darkness, and I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “You’re going to get him, aren’t you, you big mush?”

“Mmm, guilty as charged.”

A minute later, I placed my son next to my wife and lay down beside him. Squall covered both of us with a wing, holding us tightly. Deep down, I knew this was the last time our family would be like this. The next day would change everything.

I wasn’t ashamed to cry myself to sleep.

Author's Note

Thanks to my editor, Cynewulf.