The Perilous Gestation of Swans

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 5
Chapter 20
Chapter 56

Chapter 1 Author's Note

A Darkness Softly Creeping is very helpful reading.

So are the events of quite a number of stories within the Weedverse. Honestly, I'm a bit worried about releasing this story, as it requires so much extensive knowledge of everything that has taken place that brings us here.

So for you, Constant Readers, I thank you for keeping up with me this far. And for you, the new readers, those just joining us, I hope you stick around and become acquainted with us. Much discovery awaits you. Thank you for giving this a read, and I hope it is a satisfying tale.

Suffice to say, this will be a story about pony politics, but also about love, positivity, and renewal. Mostly, it will be a story about friendship under the most trying of circumstances.

Again, thank you for allowing me to entertain you.

Chapter 1

Cadance, I’m worried.

There was a pause as Celestia’s eyes lingered upon the final words of her message. Out of the whole communication, these words stood out, and she knew why. These words were eerily similar to the words that, how long had it been? Time was funny after all of these centuries. These words mirrored what she had said to Cadance, the very same words that had set all of these events into motion.

Cadance, I’m lonely.

Baring her heart to Cadance had been the first step towards healing. It was only now that Celestia could look back on everything and begin making the pieces fit. She had been sick, with grief, with heartache, and with Luna’s return, Celestia had found that her confidence had been shaken. She had been stricken.

But now, she had rediscovered her marehood, her long withheld feminine needs. She had reclaimed her equinity. With Cadance’s help, she was now more than a beautiful alabaster statue with a crown mounted upon it. She had reclaimed her sense of self, she was starting to acknowledge her own wants and desires after years of self-deprivation done as punishment. Self-punishment. Self-exile. With Luna gone, she had tried to make her suffering mirror Luna’s. Guilt and grief had consumed her. It had hollowed her out and left her empty, a shell of her former self.

Cadance was making it all better though, because that was what Cadance did. Competent Cadance, Crystal Empress. Green flames ignited around Celestia’s horn, and she inhaled, her expression one of absentminded worry. After a moment, she belched out dragonfire, and her scroll, her message to Cadance, ignited, then vanished in a fiery jade-green conflagration.

With the letter gone, travelling along the aethereal spectrum known as the Infernium, the source of dragonfire and other magical flames, it was now time to go. Her sister and her husband had encountered a powerful darkness elemental, a terrible, dreadful foe that Gosling had apparently somehow talked to death. Tucking her wings against her sides, Celestia’s head bobbed once, her horn flared with golden light, and then, she vanished.

The waiting room was filled with pale yellow and green tiles, with pale green walls, and florescent lighting that could only be described as murky. There were no windows in this small, cramped waiting room, and the furniture, well, the furniture was difficult to describe. Wooden planks with cushions covered in rough looking industrial-grade fabric. Hospital-grade? It was abysmal.

Other than herself, the room’s only other occupants were two stallions, and her sudden appearance had scared them both. They were huddled against one another, shivering, and staring at her, which left Celestia feeling a bit out of place. Oh, and guilty for startling them. Startling little ponies was Luna’s schtick, and Celestia found that she didn’t have the stomach for it.

“I’m really very sorry,” Celestia said, offering an apology. When that didn’t seem to help, she sighed and began to think of what to say so that she might reach them. With her ears drooping, making a conscious effort to not look so intimidating, she tried again. “Look, right now, I’m no different than the two of you. I’m worried about my loved ones… my sister and my husband. Just like you, I’m scared.”

After blinking, she looked down at the two stallions sitting on the hospital-grade waiting room sofa, with its rough hewn-timbers and scratchy looking fabric. One was a unicorn that she thought she might recognise, a student of hers perhaps, and the smaller of the two was a pegasus that looked just a little feminine. Just by looking at them, Celestia could see that the two of them were deeply in love, and it would be stark-raving obvious even to a blind pony.

“You could sit with us,” the pegasus said, and he patted the cushion beside him.

“Why, thank you.” Glad for a chance to break the ice, Celestia sat down beside the pair and then tried to make herself comfortable upon the dreadful furniture.

The pegasus, though the smaller of the two, seemed braver, or at least a bit more social. He turned, while still pressing up against his mate, and said, “My name is Hazy Breeze. This is my husband, Soprano Summer. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It is a pleasure to meet both of you,” Celestia replied. “You both look very worried.”

“We are!” Hazy Breeze’s face became quite animated as his fear just melted away. “Soprano is beating himself up over this, and says all of this is his fault.”

“How is this his fault?” Celestia asked as she turned to face Hazy so that she might see him better. “This is no one’s fault, these sort of things just happen.”

Taking a deep breath, Hazy filled his lungs in anticipation of telling Celestia everything. “Soprano and I adopted our little Moon and she has some separation anxiety issues. Her parents didn’t want her because her magic was unstable and dangerous.” Reaching out one wing, he placed it upon Celestia and continued, “After we became her parents, we had to make the agonising decision to send her to school or school her at home. We had an opportunity to send her to your school… Soprano nixed the idea and put his hoof down, because he was worried that our little Moon might think we didn’t want her anymore, and he didn’t want to hurt her. So, we kept her at home and did our best to homeschool her. Soprano is a music teacher in Canterlot’s public primary school, so he has some teaching experience.”

“Your reasoning seems sound enough.” While Celestia spoke the words, she saw Soprano’s ears droop with relief, but the worry, fear, and doubt remained in his eyes. “You had no way of knowing that this would happen. There’s no need for blame, little unicorns have magical accidents. Sometimes, big unicorns have magical accidents.” With a gentle smile, she thought back to a time when a big unicorn had themselves a magical accident with a Want-It-Need-It spell and a doll.

Accidents most certainly happened.

“I’m terrified of making mistakes,” Soprano confessed in a low, strained whisper and his gaze fell down to the floor. “There is so much pressure… if I make a mistake, I won’t just be a bad parent, I’ll be a gay bad parent and I—”

“Let me stop you right there.” Celestia, reaching out with her magic, turned Soprano’s head towards her and looked into his eyes. “Canterlot and Ponyville are two remarkably tolerant cities. I have worked very, very hard to cultivate diversity and tolerance in the heart of my empire.”

Soprano Summers gazed into his monarch’s eyes, nodded once, and then in what could only be described as a foalish manner, he responded, “It’s better than most places, but the bigotry is still here. Canterlot is the most political city I’ve ever lived in, and in some ways, the most bigoted. Everything is politicised. If you are a bad parent, you aren’t just a bad parent, anything and everything about you that stands out becomes the cause, the reason.”

“Really?” Hearing this left Celestia feeling troubled, and very much so.

“It’s true,” Hazy said in a breathy, feminine voice that was little more than a shy, hesitant whisper. “Soprano and I have both experienced it for ourselves.”

“I shall have to address this.” Celestia, feeling unsettled, could feel the prickles of anxiety creeping up her neck. “Thank you for telling me this, both of you. I would like to speak with both of you about this later, under better circumstances. This cannot stand.” Irked, the big white alicorn clucked her tongue a few times, and not-so-hidden fires blazed within her eyes.

Hazy pulled his wing away and the little pegasus stared up at the much larger alicorn beside him with unabashed adoration while remaining pressed up against his mate. After a time, he looked away, blinking, and with a sigh, he rested his head against the neck of the unicorn beside him. Together, the three ponies settled in for the long, long wait, each of them hoping to see their loved ones.

The doctor was a bespectacled earth pony mare that looked quite tired. She was wearing a doctor’s coat in a gaudy floral print, and her glasses were connected to her collar with a fine silver chain. A shock of blazing red mane spilled down her muzzle, and she tried blowing it away from her face several times when she entered the waiting room.

“Hi,” the doctor said in perhaps what was the most nasal voice to have ever existed in all recorded history. One ear twitched, rotating as the tendrils of red mane slid back down over her muzzle. “I have good news. Your loved ones are recovering. They’re all in one room because the angry, scary blue one refused to give up the foal or be reasonable.”

Heaving a sigh, Celestia’s head bowed.

“Moon Rose is suffering from some pretty severe frostbite, dehydration, and thaumaturgical fatigue. She’ll be fine with a little love and time. We were able to save her ears, her nose, and everything else.” The doctor took a step forwards and gave the two stallions a reassuring, kind smile.

“And what of the angry blue one and the ever so pretty black one?” Celestia asked as Soprano and Hazy hugged one another.

“The blue one will be fine,” the doctor replied in her claws-on-a-chalkboard nasal whine. “The black one had his face stitched up a bit. He might lose his ears. We don’t know yet. We’ve had to remove all of his feathers from his wings and we had to do extensive debridement to the frozen, dead flesh. He’s having a poor reaction to the medication we gave him to deal with blood clots. We don’t know yet how much damage the cold did to his eyes. We’re having to treat him like a burn victim.”

Taking a deep breath, Celestia tried to keep her heart from exploding through her ribcage and she hoped that Cadance would hurry. Equestria’s few healers were elsewhere, in places where they were needed. Another deep breath was required, then another, and then Celestia felt the soft touch of a wing as it came to rest upon her. Looking down, she saw Hazy smiling up at her, a worried smile that could only be described as maternal.

“Princess Cadance is coming,” Celestia said to the doctor. “She is a powerful healer. Once she arrives, I want her to have full access to Prince Gosling and I want her briefed on everything that is wrong. She is to know everything.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The doctor bowed her head. “Come with me if you want to see them. Moon is asleep, and so is Prince Gosling. Princess Luna remains awake and is in a foul mood. Be advised.” The doctor made a gesture with her hoof and nodded her head in invitation.

When the two stallions rose from the couch, Celestia followed after them.

With her wings, Celestia pushed both of the stallions into the room, insisting that they go first. They were quiet, shy, and cautious. While Celestia stood in the doorway, she saw her sister’s head raise from her pillow. Luna’s mane was not in its usual, ethereal state, no, it was all loose strands of blue, purple, and silver spilling from her head and neck. This was not a good sign, not at all, and seeing it made Celestia worry.

Once inside the room, she approached the bed, walking just behind Hazy Breeze and Soprano Summers. Gosling’s face wasn’t visible at all, and was covered in white bandages. Seeing it made her heart skip a beat, and she didn’t like what she saw. Tucked between Gosling and Luna was a little filly, and her face too, was covered in white bandages, but her eyes were visible, or would be if they were open.

What was supposed to be a routine run for asset recovery had not been routine at all.

“We have recovered your daughter,” Luna whispered in a voice as silken as velvet. “We now keep her warm and safe. She is a treasure.”

“Thank you,” Hazy whispered back.

“We are very tired, and We are injured. Please forgive Us if We do not rise to greet you.”

Celestia was almost overcome with all of the thoughts in her head. Luna was speaking better, settling into an almost modern pattern. She was worried, terrified, and hoped that Cadance would arrive soon. Hearth’s Warming drew ever-nearer, all of Equestria was in a state of dire peril, she was pregnant, and she was starving.

At the moment, she would gladly go to war for some pickled strawberries.

“Thank you, for saving our little Moon Rose,” Soprano said to Luna in a scratchy, husky whisper. The tall unicorn was trembling, and his gaze kept falling upon his daughter while he tried to focus on Luna. “I’m real sorry that your husband got hurt… I feel bad… I wish… I…” Stammering, the stallion fell silent, not knowing what to say, while his gaze remained on Moon Rose, who was sleeping.

“When he wakes, We shall tell him of your feelings,” Luna replied.

The muffled clatter of hooves filled the room when a nurse entered. A short stocky unicorn mare, she pushed past Celestia, unconcerned about such things as shoving past alicorn royalty, and she began changing intravenous drip bags, of which there were quite a few. While the nurse was working, she looked up at Celestia and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, can you make some heat or something? Can you do more than just stand there? Some radiant warmth might be nice, but not too much.”

Shocked, startled, Celestia’s mouth fell open, and she heard faint snickering from Luna. Shaking her head, she complied with the nurse’s request, and cast a radiant heat spell. After a few seconds of concentration, her horn throbbed with golden light, which filled the room with a sunny, summery glow. In his medicated slumber, Gosling sighed and Luna’s eyes squinted as she tried to protect herself from the light.

After everything that her sister Luna and her husband Gosling had done, the least that Celestia could do was act as a portable space heater. With the nurse still watching, Celestia moved closer to the bed, spread her wings, and manifested her inner life-giving radiance. She wasn’t a healer, not exactly, but she could exude energies conductive to life when necessary.

“Alas, there is no means for Us to shut the blinds so that We might sleep,” Luna mumbled as she lay her head upon the pillow and closed her eyes. “Keep watch, dear sister, I fear what Moon Rose may gate in with her current state. If anything peculiar begins to happen, wake Us at once and do not hesitate.”

Sweating—from fear, heat, or anxiety, she did not know—Celestia settled in to stand guard, along with two very worried parents. The night, what was left of it, would be a long one. It was just another night of crisis in a long string of nights of crisis, such were the nights that had been plaguing Equestria as of late.

Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

The room was now very, very crowded and the ponies inside of said room had to be on friendly terms with one another. Intimate, friendly terms with one another. Little Moon Rose sat in the only available chair, holding Flurry Heart. Flurry, a yearling, was almost as large as Moon Rose was, but her mental state was far, far younger. She cried and sniffled a lot, but Moon Rose, who was now fully healed, held on to Flurry like a sister.

Hazy Breeze, Soprano Summer, and Shining Armor all stood together in the corner, near the chair. Shining, who had gone off to visit the vending machines, had returned with a bag of beet crisps, which he was eating even now, and he held a steaming waxed paper cup full of coffee. Luna was near the window, supporting Cadance, who had been left quite weak, her legs wobbling like a newborn foal’s. Beside them, Sleet stood, staring at her son, silent, her face wrinkled with worry.

Celestia looked her niece in the eye, and she heard Cadance say, “Maybe he won’t notice.”

To which Celestia responded: “You think that Gosling won’t notice his wings… the very thing that he is most vain about?”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be upset,” Cadance replied, sounding very foalish and weak, due to how her voice quavered. “I thought I had more control. I didn’t know I was going to surge again, like last time. At least he didn’t become an alicorn.”

“No,” Celestia remarked, “he just got the wings.” Casting a glance down, she looked at Gosling’s naked, exposed, featherless wings. The radius, the ulna, and the humerus had been extended… considerably. His carpometacarpus was now longer, thicker, and heavier—it had become very much like her own. The flesh was pink, new, and completely smooth. Dense, heavy muscles bulged beneath the taut flesh.

“When his feathers grow back, he is going to violate every single public indecency law in existence,” Luna muttered, more to herself than anypony else.

After licking her lips a few times, Cadance shook her head and replied, “Those laws, they’re all very silly. I don’t even see why we have them.”

“Because, silly, pretty pegasus ponies created the necessity for them.” Try as she might, Celestia found that she could not tear her eyes away from Gosling, and she kept trying to picture what he might look like when he had feathers once again. “Cadance, darling, what have you done? He is never going to shut up about his wingspan now… when he has feathers once again, I suspect that his wingspan will rival my own. Do you have any idea how much anarchy you have unleashed upon the world, my dear, darling, devoted Cadance?”

“Um… er… uh… um…” Cadance shuffled around on her hooves a bit, smiled, and looked her aunt right in the eye. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Auntie?”

“We are concerned that he has not yet awoken.” Luna reached out one wing and tickled Gosling’s snoot. “If he does not awake soon, We shall be forced to take drastic measures and tickle other places.”

“Give it time, Luna. The medicine they’ve given him was quite strong.” Leaning over, Celestia was relieved to see that Gosling’s face was now unblemished once more. Looking up, she saw Sleet staring not at Gosling, but her. Blinking, Celestia suffered a rare moment of feeling self conscious about herself.

Sleet said nothing, and her continued silence was powerful.

“Once he wakes, we can go home,” Shining Armor said as he crunched on a bright red beet crisp. His snacks had stained his lips red and turned his tongue purple. “You know, this public hospital is going to get quite a boost out of this. They treated a princess and a prince and nothing went wrong. I think it’ll be good for them. You can’t beat something like this for community relations.”

Lifting her head, Cadance gave her husband a peculiar, cool stare, but had no reply, no remark. The pink alicorn glanced at the blue alicorn beside her, and then both alicorns, pink and blue, stared at Shining Armor, who was too busy eating his crisps to notice that he was being stared at.

“Why was my son put in danger?” Sleet asked in a grating, almost growling voice.

Luna had an almost foal-like reaction, and she ducked behind Cadance, only to peer out from behind the pink alicorn’s neck. The muscles in Sleet’s neck quivered, and the corner of her eye twitched while her wings jittered against her sides. Her arctic blue eyes blazed with emotion and her tail swished from side to side, whipping against her flanks.

“Sleet, I must ask that you do not blame Luna.” Cadance, her head high, looked down at the much smaller pegasus mare. “Gosling is a soldier, it is his job to go into danger. Without him, this would have ended in a very different way.”

“Gosling is better at dealing with the public than We are.” Luna’s voice was little more than a shamed whisper. “We feel safer and more secure among the public with him. He is charming, and was able to put Moon Rose’s parents at ease with his grace and wit. Also, We had no way of knowing that such dangers awaited inside.”

“It is part of Gosling’s job to look after assets that the Crown holds valuable.” Shining Armor, still crunching his crisps, swallowed and then crammed a few more in his mouth. After chewing a bit, he swallowed again, then added, “Sleet, I know this is hard. It is every mother’s worry when her sons or daughters go into battle. Being angry about it doesn’t help though. Holding any resentment will only belittle all of the hard work that Gosling does to serve both Crown and country. It’ll create a rift between the two of you. Trust me, I know.”

Hearing this, Sleet’s anger melted away and her face sagged as her whole body slumped. Almost right away, her eyes flooded with tears, and her barrel began hitching. Cadance, reaching out with one wing, pulled the smaller pegasus closer, and began comforting her daughter’s nanny.

“This life he’s chosen,” Sleet said in a strained voice that was on the verge of cracking. The mare shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and leaned up against Cadance. “I worry… which bite of his food is going to be poisoned? He can’t ride a train no more, every train ride he’s been on has ended with disaster. An assassin somehow managed to make her way into the castle and she tried to kill him… if it wasn’t for Hush, I wouldn’t even have a son right now. And poor Seville… Seville, he got stabbed… my son’s best friend got stabbed trying to save him. I’m having trouble accepting all of this… I thought I would be okay with it, but I’m not… I’m not.”

Reaching up with his foreleg, Shining Armor wiped his muzzle, then took a sip of coffee from the steaming waxed paper cup. Then, he cleared his throat, took another sip, and said, “Gosling made a choice and now he lives with it. Being a pegasus, Gosling is vulnerable and he accepts that. Your son is distressingly mortal, Sleet. He’s also incredibly brave—”

“The papers call him foolhardy,” Sleet interjected.

“Well, that is a matter of debate.” Shining Armor’s face was graced with a relaxed, easy-going smile, and he beamed at Sleet. “It is my opinion that Gosling is far, far more aware of the risks in a given situation than he lets on. Your son, he’s not stupid, not at all, and I think that he plays the best game he can with the hand that he’s been given. He gambles, Sleet, and I know how difficult that has to be for you, but again, this is his choice.”

“The Four Aces have been a winning hand so far.” Celestia saw Sleet’s eyes open and confusion clouded the small mare’s face. “The Four Aces… it’s a poker hand… Gosling is the Ace of Spades, Hush is the Ace of Clubs, Seville is the Ace of Diamonds, and Hotspur is the Ace of Hearts.”

“Each are so aptly named,” Cadance remarked, and she stroked Sleet’s back with her wing. “Seville shows so much promise as a public relations agent. This is his genius at work.”

“At least the Ace of Clubs is hard to beat.” Sleet sniffled a bit, then somehow managed to smile. “I think I would lose my mind completely if it wasn’t for Hush.”

Celestia, her gaze settling upon Gosling once more, said to Sleet, “We have something in common…”

With much majesty and dignity, Prince Gosling sneezed himself awake when feathers tickled his nose. His body was heavy, his mind was kludgy, and he had no idea what was going on. Somepony was hugging him, squeezing him, and it didn’t take him long to sort out what was happening. His mother was smothering him, as she was wont to do.

“Ma,” Gosling croaked, “equinal space, Ma.”

“You shut up, Gossy!” Sleet snapped in a voice that cracked with relief. “I squirted you out of my equinal space!”

Ears ringing, Gosling heard laughter, lots of laughter, so he himself laughed to join the crowd. His vision was blurry and he had some trouble seeing, but it was clearing up. Blinking, squinting, Gosling began trying to take stock of himself. His face felt whole, his lip didn’t feel split anymore, and his wings felt… weird, so very weird.

How long had he been out?

“Water…”

Within seconds of speaking the word, Gosling felt a cup pressed up against his lips and he pushed his muzzle against it, an involuntary jerk because his body was just desperate for water. It dribbled down his chin, soaked his muzzle, and poured into his mouth, almost choking him. Gulping, he fought to clear his mouth and breathe at the same time. Sputtering a bit, his lips flapped together when the cup was pulled away from him.

A second later, the cup returned, this time with a straw. At last, Gosling was able to drink and get his fill. Wrapping his lips around the straw, he sucked in a mouthful of water and then eased it down his parched, leathery throat. It hurt to swallow, but he didn’t care. More water was gulped down, and each swallow was accompanied by an audible sound. While he drank, his mother rubbed his throat with her hoof, and that helped out quite a bit.

“Mistah Goose?”

Still drinking, Gosling’s eyes darted around until he saw a flash of pale pink. After a few blinks, he focused enough to see the face of Flurry Heart, who was sitting on the bed beside him. He wanted to talk to her, but he continued drinking, consumed with a painful need for water.

“Uncle Goosy-Goose, I was scared!” Reaching out, Flurry placed her hoof against Gosling’s foreleg, then added, “You drink, Uncle Goose. Don’t choke!”

If he didn’t die from thirst, he would die from cuteness soon enough.

“I made a new friend, Uncle Goosy,” Flurry said, babbling as though there was nothing wrong. “Moony is nice. She gives good hugs and she told me a prince rescued her. We had chocolate together and I think we’re besties.”

Almost coughing, Gosling pulled his lips from the straw. “That’s great, Pink Pint. It’s important to have friends.” When the tickle overcame his throat, this time, Gosling did cough, and he felt his mother whack him against his back. At least it wasn’t Flurry whacking him, because she could snap his spine.

Lifting his head a bit, with stars in his vision from coughing, Gosling had a look around the room. There were a lot of faces that he knew, and the room wasn’t very big. After several long seconds, his gaze settled on Moon Rose, the filly he had rescued. Grinning, because nothing could stop Gosling from grinning, he gave her a charming nod, then turned to look at Luna.

“I done rescued me two good lookin’ ponies. I deserve snuggles! Maybe I can get kisses from them both, eh? Eh? Heh!”

Rolling her eyes, her ears twitching, Luna let out an indignant snort and her lips pressed together in a straight line as she struggled to remain silent. Cadance began giggling while poking Luna with her wing, and Flurry Heart laughed even though she didn’t quite know what was so funny.

Celestia, perhaps knowing that this was something that would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later, lowered her head down near Gosling, kissed him once, which made Flurry giggle even more, and then in a whisper she said, “Gosling, darling, we need to talk about your wings… please don’t freak out, Cadance was able to fix the damage, and everything will be better in time, Gosling...”

Author's Note

And that's all the material I have for now. All of this was part of the first chapter in its original incarnation. I felt it was too busy, had too many characters, and too much going on. So, I broke it into three parts and these past two chapters have seen some extensive changes to the tone and mood.

Further updates might take a while, as I have other stories that need work.

Chapter 4

Try as he might, Gosling could not bring himself to look in the mirror, even with the cloak covering his body. To say that his spirits were dampened would be an understatement and with his current funk, he wasn’t looking forward to the holidays, at all. He was inconsolable—even the promise of bigger, better wings once his feathers grew back did nothing to make him feel better—there was only the cold, hard reality of now. And right now, everything sucked.

Of course, he did not regret his actions, only the consequences. Saving Luna and Moon Rose was something that he would do again, even knowing the outcome of such an act. Right now, he looked very much like a plucked bird, and to make matters worse, some of the patches of his beautiful, dappled pelt were gone as well, lost to frostbite. At least Cadance had fixed him.

But as long as he was bald, patchy, and featherless, Gosling was going to be in quite a funk.

“The cloak suits you, Gosling. It’s quite dramatic.” Turning his head, Prince Blueblood cocked one eyebrow and tilted his head as he studied Gosling. “You know, if you do not feel up for this, we can postpone this meeting until later.” Reaching out with his mind, Blueblood dimmed the lights a bit, hoping that it might help Gosling not feel so self-conscious about himself.

“Thanks, Blueblood,” Gosling replied in a huff. “And no, no postponing anything. I feel fine. Physically, I can serve as the Lord Mayor.”

“Good.” Saying the word felt hollow to Blueblood and he drew in a deep breath while trying to settle his own thoughts. What to say next? What to do next? How did he make his friend feel better? With a slow turn of his head, Blueblood’s gaze followed Gosling as he crossed the room, reached a chair, and sat down.

“So, what’s this about you being my assistant?” Gosling asked.

“Oh… that.” Thankful for a distraction, something other than trying to make Gosling feel better, Blueblood lept at the chance to answer Gosling’s question. “The Ethics Committee approves of my relinquishment of power and my vacating of my various positions. Raven is going to be allowed to keep her job as Celestia’s assistant, much to the relief of everypony, and I am allowed to be your assistant, with a few caveats.”

“Such as?” Now sitting, Gosling pulled his cloak around him, and his muzzle extended out past his hood.

“As your assistant, I can give you advice, but I cannot specifically tell you what to do,” Blueblood replied.

“Why is all of this so complicated, anyhow?” Gosling asked, cutting in just as Blueblood was about to continue.

Blueblood, who had been about to say something else, reacted in a swift manner to the change of topics. “In the wake of Nightmare Moon, there was a careful pruning of the branches of power. It led to the bureaucracy that you see today. It started off as a buffer, to prevent corruption from untoward influences at the upper echelons of our government. I suppose it worked for a time, but it took on a life of its own and it is now very difficult to remove. We can’t have too much authority concentrated in one area, and we have to be careful of influence. I might say, become infested with some dreadful brain parasite, or be under changeling mind control, so me suddenly telling you what to do would be a warning sign, rather than me suggesting things for you to do.”

“That makes sense,” Gosling replied.

“As awful as it is, the bureaucracy works. During the changeling invasion of Canterlot, with so many under mind control, the upper levels of government and the lower levels of government had an effective barrier between them. It saved us, it saved our city, and it greatly slowed the takeover of the changelings. They could not penetrate so many layers of bureaucracy.”

“I see.” Gosling’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s why you couldn’t hold all those positions of yours and be in a relationship with Raven. It’s the… uh… dissemination of power to keep it from being collected all in one place, and thus, making it harder to hold sway or influence over key members of our ruling body.”

“Correct.” Quite pleased with his student, Blueblood grinned. “You’re starting to sound like a prince, Gosling.” The established, older prince looked at the younger, inexperienced one and felt a growing sense of pride. Gosling was an apt pupil who had learned much in a short time. He had taken to politics in much the same way as say, a duck took to water. Or a rubber duckie took to bathtime.

“So, you still exist as the Spymaster, at least, off of the books, but hold no other official position.” Gosling began to chew on his lower lip, he blinked once, and his head tilted down to the piles of paper strewn out over the polished granite table. “And if you ever start telling me what to do, rather than suggest to me what to do, I should be concerned about your mental integrity. I’ve also reached the unsettling conclusion that I can’t just tear apart the city’s bureaucracy, because it keeps us safe from outside influence.” From within his hood, Gosling heaved a weary sigh of resignation.

“It pains me to say it, but the impenetrable bureaucracy of Canterlot was our hidden ace against the changeling takeover.” Blueblood’s eyes narrowed, though he did not realise his expression had changed, and a cruel, keen smile spread over his lips. “We also have many spies now embedded within the bureaucracy, listening to gossip, looking for dissent, and many of these agents are buried. To just remove the bureaucracy would undo much of our carefully constructed defenses.”

“I get it,” Gosling replied while he tugged on his cloak, pulling it around his body. “Say, speaking of changelings, can I get a report about our, uh, special guest that we have staying in our special guestroom?”

Blueblood’s grin became shiver inducing. “You sure can… Prince Gosling…”

With one crisis over, the next one could begin. Or maybe it already had, Celestia didn’t know. Upon returning from the hospital, Gosling had thrown himself into his work, and Celestia was fine with that. It was better to have him focused and working than brooding and self-pitying. This was something that only time could fix, so it was important to keep Gosling distracted until time passed.

“Professor Inkwell,” Celestia said to one of her most senior instructors. “Report?”

“Nothing is getting done,” Professor Inkwell replied, smiling up at Celestia. “The little ones are too excited for the coming holiday. The older ones are only too happy to snog one another beneath the mistletoe. There’s lots of hot new romances breaking out all over, lots of sloppy first kisses, and even the teachers are getting into the holiday spirit. I fear that productivity has frozen over for the winter.”

“Good… good,” Celestia replied, distracted. “Prepare those awful, banal assignments, the ones that look important but aren’t., you know, the Twilight assignments. Ease into holiday mode. Appear tough on the students, but give them the slack they need. It’s been a rough, rough year and an even rougher fall. I’ve been worried about the stress. Professor Inkwell, I want this year’s holiday gala for the school to be extravagant. Spare no expense. Dip into mine own coffers if necessary. I want a gala so fabulous that it is the only thing ponies will talk about until spring. I want it pushed into the very forefront of the public consciousness.”

“Worried about dissent, dearie?” Professor Inkwell asked.

Sitting back in her ornate high-backed chair, Celestia rested one hoof upon the table before her and nodded. At the other end of the table, Raven was scribbling down something, but Celestia did not know what. Head down, her gaze fell to the carpet, which needed replacing. Along the wall was a worn down patch that she had spent many long hours pacing upon, going the length of the long room.

Past Raven, in a massive fireplace, a well-stoked fire blazed, crackling and spitting out cinders. Over the fireplace was a magic mirror that held many, many secrets. On the mantle were photographs of the Royal Family, many of them taken by Seville Orange. The room stank of tea and desperation.

This was the place where Celestia did her best thinking. She loved this room, even though she hated it sometimes. It just wasn’t long enough for proper pacing. On the walls, painted portraits seemed to watch the meeting, their eyes seemed to have the uncanny ability to follow those who moved about the room. It was important to hate the room you loved, just a little, as it prevented you from spending too much time in it, and this was why Celestia had never redesigned the room to compensate for its flaws.

“Dearie, if you don’t mind me asking, what is this year’s theme for the gala?” Professor Inkwell asked as she lifted up her steaming cup of tea.

“I don’t know yet,” Celestia blurted out right away in response, and even she seemed shocked by her own abruptness.

“Dearie…” Professor Inkwell leaned forwards, and the old, wrinkled mare smiled up at Celestia. “Do you need to talk about what happened?”

Ears twitching, Celestia looked down at the old mare looking up at her, and she could feel her insides twisting into knots. Talking about it would make her feel better, but she wasn’t sure if this was right. Professor Inkwell was one of her most senior associates, one of her most trusted accomplices, and the old, maternal mare was also… her friend. The white alicorn swallowed and there was an audible gulp.

She poured herself a bit more tea, adding some to a cup already half-full, added honey, and splashed in a bit of heavy cream. Some of it sloshed over the sides, unnoticed, and nopony could be bothered to care. Was this just a professional friendship? A relationship based upon educational interests? Already, the questions in Celestia’s mind were distracting her, robbing her of her concentration, and depleting some of her precious, much-needed confidence.

At the end of the table, Raven’s quill had stopped scratching.

“The pressure has become a bit much,” Celestia said in a low whisper, throwing caution to the wind. “I am far more shaken by recent events than I care to admit. Mister Mariner’s gambit, Queen Chrysalis’ successful infiltration of Ponyville, the changelings attempting to murder Mister Teapot and others because of the threat they posed…” Celestia’s voice, which had become a bit shrill, trailed off and she shook her head.

“It was a clever attack, that’s for sure, designed to hit us in all of our weak places at once,” Professor Inkwell remarked. “They took the sorcerer, tried to kill our heroes, and they hit us real hard when we were already reeling from everything else that had happened. But we prevailed. Why do you suppose that is?” The old mare’s smile vanished, and she became Professor Inkwell, with her stern, hard, unyielding gaze focused upon Celestia with all of the intensity that the nonagenarian could muster.

“Because anypony or anything trying to kill Mister Teapot is inviting disaster upon themselves?” Raven replied, her body trembling as she tried to hold back her most inappropriate snickering. She covered her mouth with one hoof, coughed a few times, and went silent when it was clear that Celestia was in no mood for laughter.

Professor Inkwell harrumphed a bit—she did not smile—but she did glance at Raven with an eyebrow raised. After a moment, the old professor turned to look at Celestia and said, “Young mares these days, so squirrelly. Little Raven never did get over her troubles at laughing at inappropriate times, and what a troublemaker she was in class—”

“Hey!” Raven cried. “You leave my school record out of this!” She coughed again, became serious, and she pointed her hoof at the old mare. “There are some ponies you just don’t mess with, Equestria has some great and mighty heroes!”

This time, the old mare did smile. “And do you know why that is, little Raven?”

“Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me, Professor Inkwell.” Folding her front hooves together, Raven became prim and proper, a student ready for the lesson.

Pointing a hoof at Celestia, Professor Inkwell beamed. “Her.” The wrinkly old school marm’s ears struggled to go erect, and her head bobbed a bit while her nostrils flared. “Princess, you are loved. You inspire the very best in your heroes and the defenders of your realm. Even if they don’t always agree with you… they will always be there for you. As bad as things are, and let’s be honest, things are pretty bad right now, are they not? You have those who are loyal to you… the nobles of Canterlot. Your heroes. Your protectors. Never mind your detractors, the neigh-sayers, the tongue waggers, and the playground bullies.”

“Professor Inkwell…”

“Yes, dearie?”

“I have an idea for this year’s holiday gala,” Celestia said, taken with a moment of inspiration.

“I’d love to hear it, dearie…”

Author's Note

The first three chapters were originally were all part of a single prologue, of sorts, and this is the chapter where the story really starts. I like the chapter, I like the split aspect of it, and I feel that we really get inside of the heads of the ponies involved.

As stated, this is a story about friendship, and it is here, in this chapter, where we see a friendship or two realised for what they are.

Chapter 6

The mare beside Gosling was a big, warm, wonderful creature made of sunshine. She also smelled like vanilla. No, she reeked of vanilla, as if she had been soaked in it. He sniffed, feeling euphoric, then he began to stretch himself, extending his hind legs, and going tense until starbursts appeared in his vision. After his stretch, he relaxed and enjoyed his headrush while filling his nose with the scent of vanilla.

“Is that some kinda perfume or something?” Gosling asked while he pressed his snoot into the warm, somewhat sweaty flesh of Celestia’s neck. “Every time we do what we just did, I keep smelling that. Are you trying to turn me on? It’s working.”

“Gosling, darling, it’s time we had a talk about one of the many peculiarities of alicorn anatomy.” Celestia, laying on her back, started to roll over onto her side, but then couldn’t be bothered. Reaching down with her front hooves, she began to rub her own stomach.

“You’re made of edible vanilla cake?” To test this theory, Gosling began to nip at Celestia’s neck, his hard, flat teeth pinching tender folds of flesh, and his antics caused Celestia to squirm beside him, her hind legs wiggled, and he could hear static-crackles while she moved against the sheets. His ears perked at the faint, soft sounds of Celestia’s needful, breathy whinnies.

“Gosling”—it now sounded as though Celestia was having some trouble speaking—“what you are smelling is castoreum… alicorns have anal scent glands, and no, I don’t know why. When we do what we do, with all of that heat and friction that happens back there, those scent glands get heated… and... mmm, Gosling…”

He stopped nibbling on her neck and began to ponder, causing Celestia’s whinnies to become those of frustration. After a brief time, Gosling could only reach one conclusion, which he said aloud. “So, every time your sister comes in and smells vanilla, she knows I’ve gone spelunking where the proverbial sun don’t shine.”

“Well of course she does,” Celestia replied, sounding frustrated and needy.

Beneath the sheets, it was hot, humid, and the smooth, sheer fabric clung to Gosling’s body, but mostly to the naked, featherless, sweaty flesh of his wings. He lay there, on his side, his muzzle pressed against Celestia’s long neck, breathing in the scent of vanilla, and enjoying the moment, not minding at all that alicorns had some anatomical peculiarities.

When the neck nibbles did not continue, Celestia snorted, and then resumed talking. “I’ve always seen it as some kind of specialised scent and territory marking. Like right now, Gosling, you absolutely stink of vanilla, and not at all like hot, sweaty, freshly plowed plot. For anypony familiar with alicorns, it would be a clear, undeniable marker that you are mine. And just for the record, you are mine. Well, and Luna’s too, should she ever choose to have you.”

“Yous is dirty, dirty filly, sharing your sister with me.”

“I know.”

“Sunshine, I’m really sorry, but I need to go check up on her. I’m gonna go shower and then see if she’s okay. That whole darkness elemental thing… I… I don’t think I’m okay after that—”

Leaning over, bending her neck, Celestia kissed Gosling on top of his head, on his white patch, cutting him off. “Go be with her for a time, and then come back to bed so that I might warm you. Wear your cloak, it’s cold.”

“I love you.” Gosling tucked his accent away, instead sounding like his most cultured self. “The Sun has been put to bed, and now I have to go and check up on my Moon.”

“Just remember one thing, Gosling,” Celestia said as Gosling began to free himself from beneath the covers.

“What’s that?”

“The Moon also smells of vanilla…”

The stone stairs up to Luna’s aerie were freezing. Gosling, wrapped up in his cloak, fought to keep his teeth from chattering, as he was now particularly vulnerable to the cold due to having no feathers. He was nervous, like a colt on his first date, and he was always nervous when he climbed the many steps to Luna’s aerie.

It was impossible to know which mood Luna might be in, so each of these visits were perilous as well as being a potential time waster. Climbing all of these stairs, he might find that Luna wasn’t in the mood for company, and then back down he would go. Gosling swore, as he often did during this climb, that the tower had become somehow taller. It was possible. Most of the castle was vast pockets of extra-dimensional space, and with Luna’s raw magical power, she could make these stairs as long as she wanted.

He glanced at a statue as he passed, knowing what secret it held, that it was one of the many guardians installed throughout the castle. The golem wasn’t moving at the moment, but it had changed positions since the last time he had passed. Huffing and puffing, Gosling got his nightly calisthenics as he continued up the stairs.

Luna was in her chambers, just as Celestia had said she would be. Gosling stood in the door, staring, the roaring, crackling fire in the grate reflecting in his eyes. Sometimes, the fire burned, and other times, Luna left her aerie freezing. The balcony doors were open, allowing the freezing wind to enter, but with a flash of Luna’s horn, the doors shut with a gentle click.

With the doors shut, the room became a sweltering furnace, and Gosling didn’t mind. He continued to stand in front of the door, feeling awkward, out of place, and out of sorts. Why were these moments always so difficult, and why didn’t he know what to say? Luna was just standing there, staring at him, and she seemed to be awash with dark shadows.

“You came for Us… for me,” Luna said in a weird voice that came from all around the room and not from her mouth.

For a second, Gosling was tempted to go for the obvious innuendo, she had left the door wide open for it, but he swallowed his immature, coltish words. Instead, he just stood there, staring, watching as the fire consumed the last bit of the chill and freeing the room from winter’s grasp.

“Through the darkness, you came for me.” Luna began moving, her slender, graceful legs making smooth, perfect strides, and her silver-shod hooves made no sound when she crossed over the stone tile floor. Pools of darkness spread around each hoof as it touched the floor, and in the seemingly liquid darkness, silver stars twinkled, shining in the void-puddles.

“Of course I did, I love you. I made vows to you, remember?” Gosling felt his mouth go dry, and his lips too. He knew better than to look into the pools of darkness on the floor, but he found himself doing so anyway, and it made his head feel swimmy. He knew from experience that Luna was deep in the dream realm right now, and the body he was seeing wasn’t quite real.

The black pools were deep, and the many twinkling stars seemed to stretch into forever.

When he saw Luna smile, he shivered and let out a sibilant hiss at the sight of her pointed, nightmarish teeth. Long, extended canines were visible and they seemed to glow with their own inner light. Tendrils of darkness extended from her, reaching for him, and for a second, Gosling wondered if he was dreaming.

“We could reward our devoted servant,” Luna said, her voice almost sultry. “We could give you wings… would you join Us in our nightly crusade?”

“Wings?” Gosling asked.

In reply, Luna spread her wings, but they did not have feathers, they were leathery, membranous, and bat-like. Tendons creaked and shadows curled around her moving wings like heavy, clinging smoke. Long, curved claws extended from her wing-thumbs that protruded from the central knuckles of her wings.

“Like a nocturnal pegasus?” Gosling felt his blood run cold, and he wondered just how much power Luna had. She was old, ancient, and terrible.

“No.” Luna’s voice was almost teasing, and stretching out one wing, she pinched Gosling’s cheek between her thumb and central knuckle. “The Gift of Night, Gosling. Just let Us bite down upon thine neck, and allow Us to suckle for a time. We shall then allow you to partake of Our essence.”

“Is yous vamping me?” Gosling took a step back, but it was no use, his backside hit the door behind him with a thump. He wasn’t sure how he felt about becoming a vampire, and Luna was looking at him with hungry eyes. A thousand questions filled his head, strange questions, worried questions, like why did Celestia allow her vampire sister to continue to exist, and would he have married Luna had he known the truth.

Whimpering a bit, Gosling watched Luna’s orange tongue lick one of her fangs. Having wings again right away was tempting, and becoming an immortal Lord of Darkness held some small appeal, but the idea of drinking blood made him queasy. He began to wonder how Luna appeared in the sunlight, and even more questions arose in his mind.

“We dost desire some of your vanilla-scented goodness,” Luna said in a seductive, breathy whisper as she leaned her head down, and her snoot was now inches away from Gosling’s. She sniffed, inhaling, and then a low chuckle could be heard from all around the room, rising up from the darkness, the living, dancing shadows.

“And We has Us some questions,” Gosling said, picking up on the Royal We, and noting that his spooky, scary wife had some nice minty fresh breath for being a damned creature of the night. “These wings you’re promising, will they be sexy wings?”

“To some,” Luna replied.

Gosling almost said the words ‘bat pony,’ but caught himself, knowing that no matter how much Luna might tolerate him, that would get him slapped across the room and lectured. “I dunno about this becoming a pegasus of the night. I will follow you into darkness, but I’ll not become the darkness.”

No sooner had Gosling spoken the words than the illusion all around him melted away, most of it. Luna was still radiating dream magic, but she looked more like her normal self now, and she had a teasing smile upon her face. He was about to say something, but Luna caught him off guard with a swift, soft peck upon the lips.

Pulling away, Luna said, “We had you going.”

“You did,” Gosling admitted. “And I was kinda tempted too.”

“You would, indeed, follow Us into darkness, and you’ve proven that.” Turning away, Luna began to walk over to the fireplace mantle, reaching out with her magic and pouring herself a drink from a heavy, ornate crystal decanter. “Thou art also getting braver, Prince Gosling.”

“Well, you keep showing me all those awful horror movies.” Licking his lips, Gosling watched as Luna lifted her glass to her muzzle, and he wondered what she might be drinking. He was also curious what sort of dreams Luna might cause if she drank too much. “Luna, why… why would you try to scare me after everything that just happened?”

Pausing mid-drink, Luna turned to look at Gosling, she swallowed, and pulled her glass away. “Because now is the best time to do it.”

“What?”

“Think of it as inoculation.” Luna took another drink, swallowed, and then refilled her glass. “A vaccination against heart-sundering fear that can kill little ponies like yourself. We have been grooming you to deal with terror. We show you movies, We come and scare you in the dark of the night, We terrorise you while you lie dreaming.” Smiling, her glass full once again, she continued, “And We have no doubts that Our campaign of terror is what allowed you to push ahead through that awful nightmarish encounter. You live, because We have made your heart stronger against fatal horror. ”

It was now, at this moment, with these words, that Gosling realised just how smart Luna was, how subtle, and how so very alicorny she was. He also knew that she was one hundred percent correct and that he had no conceivable means of refuting her statement. She had been grooming him, preparing him, training him for some crisis, perhaps worried that she might become Nightmare Moon once more. In hindsight, there was perfect clarity.

“Yeah, well, you just go right on scaring me,” Gosling said, more than just a little in awe of the mare who stood drinking in front of him. The knowledge that he was still alive because Luna had been preparing him for just such an encounter burned in his mind, standing out from all of his other thoughts.

“Oh, worry not, for We shall…” Then, Luna threw her head back, and booming, echoing laughter filled the room. With a flash of magic, she summoned another glass, and poured Gosling a drink, which she offered him. “Come, drink with me, mine husband, for thou art worthy.”

Author's Note

The Sun and Moon get equal time. :heart:

Chapter 7

All good things must come to an end, and this was a night that could not last forever, no matter how much Gosling desired for it to happen. The liquor that Luna had given him was strange, laced with lavender and anise, and several glasses had completely floored him. Now, he was stumbling along beside Luna, as she led him back to bed.

There was a lot that Gosling wanted to tell her, perhaps because of his current inebriated state, and even more important, there were a lot of things he wanted to hear from her. However, talking was a bit difficult at the moment, just because there was so much he wanted to say. He feared that, if he tried to say anything, it would all come spilling out in a jumble.

“We besties,” Gosling said, and there was a heavy slur in his voice. A lot more threatened to spill out, more than just words, the contents of his stomach were currently petitioning for parole and early release. Feeling brave, and too far gone to feel stupid, Gosling gulped and then continued, “I just… just wanna really be your friend… Luna.”

Stumbling, Gosling couldn’t feel his legs, any of them, and he wondered if he had frozen again. He didn’t take a tumble though, because his bestie caught and held him up with magic. Warm, tickly magic spread around his body and mingled with the pleasurable feelings of his drunkenness.

Drunkenness? No. After a moment of internal debate, Gosling confessed to only being somewhat lit. He wasn’t drunk. Nope. A drunk Gosling might try to make a move on his bestie, a drunken, stupid move that might ruin everything, all of his hard work, and he would never allow that to happen. No, he was lit Gosling, or perhaps sloshed Gosling. Could rubber duckies float in a bathtub full of booze?

There was so much to say, just so much to say, the words were pressing into one another inside of his head and forming mush. For a second, Gosling saw a mental image of a long, slender letter poking in and out of a round letter, and he was shocked by the sudden alphabetical obscenity. He blinked it away and knew it was better to pretend that it hadn’t happened.

Held aloft, Gosling was flying, and he was pretty happy about this. Yes, this made him happy, he was flying beside Luna, hovering in the air, close to his bestie. So happy was he, so delighted, that he began to sing, yes, he began to serenade his bestie, just because she was bestie.

“You are my Moonshine… my only Moonshine… you make me haaaaaaaaappy… when skies are… dark?” He blinked, confused, as the song had gone to a strange, unknown place. “You’ll never know, Blue, how much I love you… please don’t take my Moonshine away.”

And then, as if to punctuate his magnum opus, his Spoony-Goosy-Swanny Song, Gosling spewed all over the floor.

Mouth dry, Gosling fumbled around in his empty bed. Nearby was a glass of water and a few aspirin. The heavy drapes were closed, keeping the sunshine out, and somepony had been quite thoughtful of his needs. Oh goodness, did he have needs. He needed to be asleep again, and needed to reclaim his memory of going to bed last night.

Rising from the bed, Gosling felt naked. He took a moment to consider the current state of his wings, feeling repulsed by what he saw. It ached, it was a pain that he could not reconcile with, and it left him unhappy. Turning his head away from his own body, Gosling focused upon taking his aspirin and getting a drink.

Without his magical pegasus feathers, he didn’t know how to take care of himself, how to be himself. He had never been in this position before. Sticking out his tongue, he licked the aspirin from the bedside table, picked up the glass with his fetlock, and then he drank down his pills. Flicking his tail, he let out a whinny and got his mind straight to face the day.

There was work to do. This was a terrible job, but it was his job. His interview had been disguised as romance, and his marriage was little more than a fancy job contract. As Prince Gosling, he held one of the worst jobs in Equestria, a thankless job, but like any other job, it had to be done. Putting down the glass, he turned to head for the shower, and in his head he wondered how he would turn his beloved country away from anarchy today.

Breakfast was… a bran muffin and some coffee. This wasn’t breakfast, but he couldn’t complain. He wanted something hot, salty, and greasy, like scrambled eggs with shredded coconut, ginger, and pineapple. Oh, and cheese, lots of cheese, but what he wanted and what he got happened to be two very different things.

Celestia was at her school, looking after the needs of her students. He suspected that Luna was sleeping, but he didn’t know for sure. Of Cadance and Shining Armor, he had no idea what they were up to, but they were around. His head ached a bit, but not too bad, not so bad that he couldn’t deal with it.

“Sir, Prince Blueblood is waiting for you, Sir,” Kibitz said to Gosling in a subdued, hangover friendly voice. “A word of warning, Sir, the prince seems out of sorts this morning.”

“Well, that’s two of us,” Gosling replied. “Make sure I’m supplied with coffee, Kibitz.”

“Right, Sir.” The older stallion offered a distinguished nod.

“Thanks, Kibitz, I couldn’t do this job without you.”

“Oh, I am aware of that, Sir, but I am amused to hear you say it.”

Blueblood’s study was almost claustrophobic. Oh, it was a large room, or had been at some point, but now it was so full of books, boxes, and other bric-a-brac that it was almost impossible to move through. The Brat Prince, as he was known, had his own filing system, his own means of chaotic organisation that Gosling couldn’t make any sense of.

In the middle of the room, there was a large table that had all of Equestria etched upon it, burned into the massive oaken beams of its surface. Beside the table, Blueblood stood, frowning, a deep, deep scowl causing his face to wrinkle. Beside him was Shining Armor, also scowling. The two princes looked worried, and Gosling could tell that this was going to be a rough day at work.

“What’s going on?” Gosling asked as he drew nearer the table.

“This,” Blueblood sighed in reply, gesturing at the things laying atop the table.

Stepping around various obstacles, Gosling joined his fellow princes at the table, and Shining Armor held up a photograph for Gosling to look at. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, Gosling squinted and tried to make sense of what he was seeing in the bright over-saturated colours of the photograph that Shining Armor held in his magic.

A girl, a human girl, Gosling knew her through his intelligence briefings; Sunset Shimmer. She was pointing with her finger at something near her feet, at a cluster of bright blue flowers that was nearby. Try as he might, Gosling had some trouble figuring out what he was supposed to see, and he felt the first pangs of frustration.

“What am I looking at?” Gosling asked.

“This,” Shining Armor said in a flat, controlled voice, “is Sunset Shimmer. This photo was taken by one Pinkie Pie, the one beyond the mirror. The blue flowers near Sunset’s feet are poison joke.”

“Say again?” Gosling’s groin clenched with so much force that his words came out as a squeak. Right away, his well informed mind began putting together everything he knew, which was extensive, considerable. Poison joke acted as a filter for raw magic, bad magic, or corrupted magic. It worked especially well to counter Grogar’s corruptive influences on the thaumasphere.

“Poison joke is growing in the world beyond the mirror.” Shining Armor licked his lips and both ears trembled. “Sunset Shimmer brought magic to that world, or woke the magic that was dormant in that world, we can’t tell for certain. That’s beside the point, though. Now that there is active, living magic, the corruption has spread from this world to the next. Twilight received this last night, Sunset sent it to her, and she passed on copies of it to us.”

“This can’t be…” Feeling lightheaded, Gosling eased his backside to the floor and sat down. “No, this can’t be.”

Saying nothing, Blueblood let out a stifled groan and one hoof clopped against the floor.

“The poison joke was encountered at a place called Camp Everfree. A rather disturbing series of magical events took place there.” Shining Armor lowered the photograph down to the table, and placed it atop a pile of others. “Some of the campers have become sick with curious, debilitating ailments, and Sunset Shimmer gave a very thorough report of everything to my sister, Twilight.”

All of a sudden, Gosling felt sick to his stomach.

“Grogar can spread to anywhere that magic goes,” Blueblood said while he tapped one perfect hoof against the stone tile floor.

“We don’t know that for certain.” Shining Armor’s words lacked firm conviction and he made no effort to look Blueblood in the eye. “There is so much we don’t know about the world beyond the mirror, other than it is a very peculiar place.”

Sitting on the floor, Gosling could feel his muscles quivering, and his stomach was doing some impossible gymnastics. His eyes fell upon the stack of photographs and he wondered about what he might see if he looked at them. On the mantle, a water clock dripped, it was an annoyance, but Blueblood insisted on being annoyed, because it kept him from lapsing into complacency.

“What of the Tarnished Teapot beyond the mirror?” Gosling asked, and he saw that his words left both Shining Armor and Prince Blueblood looking quite troubled. After speaking, he wondered why he had never heard anything about that world’s Tarnished Teapot in any of his briefings.

“Events beyond the mirror reflect those in our world, but there are variations.” Blueblood, scowling, turned away, and he stared into the crackling, spitting flames in the fireplace. “In that world, Trixie Lulamoon is a girl in what they call high school. Just recently, she stole a car, a sort of autonomous wagon that exists beyond the mirror, and she foalnapped… kidnapped a young boy named Sumac Apple. She is now a wanted criminal. In her own words, she said she wanted to rescue Sumac from a cruel and unjust system of foster care.”

Gosling felt his throat tighten.

“She is now part of a criminal gang,” Blueblood continued. “She was joined by a nice girl named Lemon Hearts, and a girl from a wealthy family that goes by the name Twinkleshine that Trixie rescued from a place that promises to cure homosexuality, as if such a thing were possible—”

“What does this have to do with Mister Teapot?” Gosling demanded, his frustration becoming unbearable.

“Mister Teapot was a young man who dropped out of school. He was quite unlikeable in school, he was bullied, he was ridiculed, he was hated, and he was the town’s pariah.” Blueblood, still staring in the flames, cleared his throat, but couldn’t seem to continue, he just stood there, shaking his head, and after several failed attempts to speak, he gave up.

“You spoke in the past tense.” Gosling felt an unwelcome prickle travel up his spine, and he focused an intense stare upon Blueblood.

“Yes, I was, in fact, speaking in the past tense.” Blinking, Blueblood turned away from the flames, his pupils were tiny, and he gave Gosling a sad, worn down stare. “Feeling that there was no hope to be had, that there would be no place where he would be welcomed, Tarnished Teapot hung himself from a tree on the edge of town. He was found by a student named Maud Pie.”

“She… she…” Gosling knew this story, at least from this world. “She didn’t come in time to save him, did she?”

Both Shining Armor and Blueblood shook their heads.

Ears drooping, Gosling rested his head down upon the edge of the table and let out a sigh. Mister Teapot was Equestria’s greatest weapon against Grogar’s corruptive influence, he was the destroyer of dark artifacts, and in Gosling’s eyes, he held a fanatical, dangerous loyalty to Princess Celestia.

“So, are we to assume that Grogar creeps into a world where he will find no resistance?” Gosling asked, trying not to think of everything that had just been said, hoping to focus on something other than the dark words and the pall they brought with them.

“Oh, I am positive that Sunset and the others will find a way to resist him, if this is truly the case,” Shining Armor replied. Perhaps trying to cast away the chill that had settled into the room, Shining smiled, a weary, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless, and he drew in a deep breath. “Sunset Shimmer is an alicorn beyond the mirror. She has ascended. Where there are alicorns, there is hope, even if they exist in human form.”

“Yes.” Blueblood’s agreement sounded dry. “Indeed. Alicorns were engineered to save worlds, so there is hope.”

“What about me?” Gosling asked, realising that he had heard nothing about himself beyond the mirror.

Shining Armor and Blueblood glanced at one another, and then each of them focused upon Gosling. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Gosling thought about the feel of the wood against his fuzzy chin, and he wondered what his mirror counterpart might have done to make both Shining and Blueblood stare at him so.

“What’d I do?” Gosling, eager for relief from the painful words spoken earlier was eager to know what had happened.

Shining Armor’s ears fidgeted, he blinked a few times, then he cleared his throat and said, “Vice Principal Luna was discovered to be having a relationship with an underaged police cadet. It’s caused quite an uproar, and Luna insists that she has done nothing wrong.”

Blueblood, turning to look into the fire once more, he muttered the words, “The newspapers call you Officer Handsome and you’ve been offered a number of prominent modeling contracts.”

“Oh, really?” Gosling lifted his head.

“Damnit, Blueblood, there’ll be no living with him after this.”

“I know, Shining, I know.”

Author's Note

A pebble is dropped into a pond, and the ripples flow.

Chapter 8

The day was off to a dreadful start, but that didn’t mean that it had to be a bad day. Sure, the morning intelligence briefing was awful, and his wings had no feathers, and all of Equestria was falling apart, but that was no reason to be depressed, right? He had been faced with the tangible evidence that Grogar had infected another world, bringing his hate and apathy with him.

Wrapped in his grey woollen cloak, Gosling made for a dramatic figure as he approached the Director of Staff, a pony named Purple Party. For being the Director of Staff, and having a name like Purple Party, this particular pony wasn’t much fun at all and Gosling wasn’t too keen on having to deal with him.

A far more accurate name might have been Party Pooper.

The unicorn, a fastidious individual who was, indeed, a very purple pony, went rigid while Gosling approached. He also pulled off his golden-rimmed spectacles and began polishing them, even though they were already spotless. Gosling almost extended a wing to wave hello, but then caught himself before committing the awkward act.

“Greetings, Mister Party...” Gosling slipped into his most cordial voice, the one that Celestia had coached him on. “I was wondering, how go the preparations for the Winter Moon Festival?”

“Sir, those have been given low priority. No real preparations have been made. We’ve been very busy with other things.”

“Whaddaya mean—” Gosling caught himself, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Excuse me, Mister Party, but what do you mean by that? I thought I had made it clear that the Winter Moon Festival was to have its return this year. Why haven’t my requests been satisfied?”

“I sent planning agents out to test public opinion, and for whatever reason, ponies have very little interest in standing out beneath some pavilion on the longest, darkest night of the year, waiting for the midnight hour, and freezing their… ears off.” Purple Party’s face was absolutely blank at the moment, and he slid his glasses back on.

“So… you went against my wishes, you ignored my request to restore a festival that Equestria hasn’t officially celebrated in over a thousand years, you ignored my attempt at an inaugural return of a festival that celebrates my wife. Did you not understand that I am trying to revive public interest?”

“Resources are limited and I commanded my staff to focus on more important things—”

“THIS IS AN IMPORTANT THING!” Gosling bellowed, losing his cool and his composure in an eyeblink. “This is Luna’s self-esteem and well being! This is her acceptance, this is restoring her to her proper place in society as one of the ruling heads of Equestria, one of the Royal Pony Sisters, of which there are TWO! The whole point of having the festival this year was to remind ponies that it exists! I wanted to surprise her and make her feel good about herself, you pompous, purple party pooping piece of—”

“Prince Gosling!” Hotspur’s barking voice cut into the conversation, and the armored pegasus approached, his steel-shod hooves ringing against the stone tiles of the floor. “Mister Party, leave us at once.”

Purple Party, realising that now was a very good time to make an exit, did so, fleeing from Gosling, who stood there, panting, his sides heaving beneath his cloak. Eyelids twitching, nostrils flaring, his tail whipping from side to side, Gosling watched the stuffy unicorn make a hasty retreat.

“Don’t count on having your job for long, ya schmuck!” Gosling hollered while he stomped a hoof down upon the tile for emphasis. All of his frustration, all of his terror from the other night, all of his anger, his rage, and his fury all became too much to hold in, and the first few tears began to fall while Gosling’s knees banged together.

“Gosling… Goose… ya alright?” Hotspur asked as he moved to Gosling’s side.

“No… no, I am not alright… I’m sick of ponies acting like Luna doesn’t exist or isn’t important… do you know what this does to her?” Gosling, frustrated, realised he couldn’t even wipe his eyes, because doing so would reveal his naked wings. “I am tired of the castle staff treating me as if I wasn’t important. They don’t take me seriously.”

“Yeah, well, yous shouldn’t yell at them.” Hotspur’s armor clanked when he took another step closer to Gosling. “I’ll throw my rank around, and I’ll get some snow-lazy privates to set everything up. Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea, we bucketheads’ll do this, and it’ll be good for morale. Screw that guy.” With a turn of his head, Hotspur glanced in the direction that Purple Party had retreated.

“Thanks, Hotspur… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s Watch Captain Hotspur, ya mug.” Looking worried, Hotspur nudged Gosling with his wing, and began herding him along. “Come on, let’s get yous someplace private so yous can get sorted out.” The captain placed one wing over his friend’s back, and began leading him away so Gosling could have a much needed private moment.

“Equestria hasn’t celebrated the Winter Moon Festival in over a thousand years,” Gosling said to Hotspur as he was being lead away.

“Yeah, but we has Nightmare Night.” Hotspur shrugged, but kept his wing planted on Gosling’s back. “Things change, Goose.”

“Try to imagine an Equestria without a Summer Sun Festival.”

Hotspur’s gait faltered for a moment, but he recovered. “Point taken, ‘nuff said.”

“Ponies worship Celestia… and I can’t help but feel that a lot of Luna’s problems are because she doesn’t get the worship she needs. She needs restoration, Hotspur. I’m the Confessor of the Pegasus Pony Tribe. Quiet Knish laid a heavy load on my back and I’m breaking beneath it. Sometimes, I can actually feel my spine being crushed. I don’t know how to lead ponies back to Luna and I’m trying everything I can and then assholes like Purple just have to make everything worse!”

At this point, Gosling burst into tears and began weeping. Hotspur moved with new purpose, hustling his friend along, and he pulled Gosling’s hood over his head, hoping to offer whatever privacy he could. When the hood was up, Hotspur wrapped a wing around Gosling’s neck, and pulled him into a sidelong hug while they walked, not caring what the other posted guards might think or say.

Through a pair of tall, wide double doors, the two friends made a hasty exit.

Moving at a swift, majestic canter, Princess Cadance held Flurry Heart above her head and hurried down the hall. Approaching the door, she slowed, spread her wings, crossed her eyes, threw the door open, and made a magnificent entrance that did… absolutely nothing. Flurry giggled a few times, but then stopped.

“Mama?”

Looking up, Cadance saw Flurry looking down at her, and then together, the two of them looked over at Gosling, who was sitting in a chair, looking miserable, while Captain Hotspur stood beside him. Her attempt to cheer Gosling up had been a failure, a bad one, she had bombed. Lowering Flurry a bit, she moved into the room proper, and shut the doors behind her.

“I’ve sort of heard what happened,” Cadance said to Gosling and she dropped Flurry into his embrace. “Here, take one of these and call me in the morning.”

“Hiyas, Mistah Goose!” Flurry beamed, blew an enormous spit bubble, and waggled her ears at Gosling while she got comfortable in his embrace.

Using her magic, Cadance did a lot of things at once. She stoked the fire, added a log, conjured up an entire tea service from the kitchens, set to work making tea, and enchanted a chair, which dutifully came running over on its four legs, so she could sit down. There was no harm in a little showing off, and the sound of Flurry clopping her hooves together with joy was good medicine.

“I am going to help with the Winter Moon Festival.” Cadance folded in her wings, sat down, and made herself comfortable. “I’ve decided to spend Hearth’s Warming here, in Canterlot, with family.”

“What about the Crystal Empire?” Gosling asked.

“Oh, they don’t celebrate Hearth’s Warming, and it means nothing to them. They vanished before it became an event. They just don’t see what the big deal is, and attempts to make it a holiday have been met with lukewarm interest.” Studying Gosling, she didn’t like what she saw, the cracks were showing, and he was looking a little under the weather, understatement though that might be.

Flurry Heart, content to be with her uncle, rested her head against Gosling’s neck and beamed with a smile that was pure sunshine. Gosling, who needed comfort, held her close, and rested his chin atop her head, mindful of her long, sharp horn. Hotspur remained close, and stood rigid, almost as if he was a statue rather than a pony.

“What do you want from a Winter Moon Festival, Gosling?” Cadance asked.

“A Summer Sun Festival at night,” he replied, squeezing Flurry and making her coo.

“Let’s be honest, that’s not going to happen.” Cadance kicked her hind legs a bit until she was comfortable, she tucked her wings a bit more against her sides, and she looked Gosling right in the eye. “But that doesn’t stop us from making an attempt. I think Auntie Luna would be happy with the attempt.”

“I’ve got lazy, good for nuttin’ privates wasting away and waiting out the winter,” Hotspur said. “We can put them to work, and we can even yells at them to make them work harder. We can make ‘em earn their salt.”

Amused, Cadance found herself smiling while she nodded. “Since it is nighttime, and dark, I say we set up a fireworks display so big that they’ll see it in Ponyville. I can see it now… we’ll wait until the moon reaches the highest point in the sky, and then we’ll light everything up with fireworks.”

“Can we fire cannons?” Gosling asked with a hopeful, pleading look. “Just blanks…”

“Hmm.” Cadance began rubbing her chin with one wing, wondering what she could get away with. Only Celestia could approve such a thing, but Cadance was confident that she could wheedle permission from her aunt. “I think we’ll be able to fire cannons. Let me get back to you on that.”

“Can we shoot Purple Party out of a cannon?” Gosling looked even more hopeful.

“Again, let me get back to you on that,” Cadance replied, fighting to keep from smiling too hard. With her magic, she began pouring tea and making everything perfect. Her smile became a frown when she thought about how Gosling was going to hold his teacup, he was going to have to put Flurry down, and he was clumsy with his hooves. For a brief, terrible moment, Cadance felt guilty that she had been unable to restore Gosling’s feathers or fill in his many bald patches.

Her healing, as powerful as it might be, had limits.

There was a sniff from Gosling, and that snapped Cadance back to attention just in time to see him sniffing Flurry’s mane. Little Flurry was blowing yet another spit bubble, a big one, and even though she would never, ever admit it, Cadance was proud of just how large a spit bubble her daughter could blow. She was almost as good as her father. In time, she might even surpass his spit bubble blowing mastery.

“All this pressure, it’s getting to me again,” Gosling said, his moving lips causing Flurry’s ears to flicker. “I need help. I shouldn’t have yelled at Purple and now I feel guilty and bad. Nopony takes me seriously, they treat me like I’m some colt or something. And the papers, the papers are really, really getting mean and they rip apart everything I do or try to accomplish. I can’t seem to win.”

Cadance heard Gosling sniffle a bit, and he lifted his head up to look at her.

“When I went to visit those foals in the Weeping Sister Hospital, the papers wanted to know why I hadn’t gone and visited our wounded soldiers instead. When I went and visited the wounded soldiers, the papers got snippy and wanted to know why I was spending all of my time being a public prettyboy and not getting any real work done. When I work and don’t show my face for a few days, they want to know why I hate the public so much that I can’t come out of the castle… I’m tired of it, Cadance… I’m sick of it. I feel like I’m going to go off on somepony and Mister Purple Putz, he just… he almost pushed me right over the edge.”

“Purple Putz!” Flurry blurted out, her spit bubble popping, leaving Gosling’s neck slick and shiny with drool.

A maternal scowl appeared on Cadance’s muzzle for an eyeblink, then was gone. She let this one slip, and she didn’t feel the need to scold Gosling or Flurry, not with Gosling’s current state of mind. Sitting in her chair, she tried to think of the best way to help Gosling deal with his current predicament, this rough state of affairs.

This was something best solved over steaming cups of tea.

Author's Note

Next chapter: the AV club follows Celestia around her school.

Chapter 9

Princess Celestia strode down the hallway, and the caravan followed. Following her just off of her left, what she felt was her ‘good side,’ was Seville Orange, wearing a body mount that held a motion picture camera. Behind them was most of the Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns Audio Visual Club. Students of all ages and sizes, ranging from those who were about to graduate with degrees to those just starting their academic career tagged along, some carrying film, others carried bags with gear, tripods, everything that was needed.

They were getting good hooves on experience, which Princess Celestia prized. She felt her students learned best by doing. As an extra added bonus, working as a porter to haul around heavy gear also counted as physical education credits, which was just what these nerdy little eggheads needed.

Stopping near a drinking fountain, Princess Celestia turned to face the camera with a broad, beaming smile upon her face, and she gave her well practiced speech that she spent all of two minutes practicing.

“We’re always pioneering new methods of teaching here at my school for gifted unicorns, because this is more than a school, it is a social laboratory and fertile ground for change. The new methods we develop here get sorted out and refined. The things that work undergo meticulous peer review and then are tested in other schools all across Equestria. We lead the way and we provide the foundation for the future of education.”

Her warm, beaming smile intensified, until it seemed like the sun was shining indoors.

“Of particular concern for parents and the gracious nobles of Canterlot, approximately sixty percent or so of our students find the pony that they are truly in love with and will spend the rest of their lives with here in my school for gifted unicorns. I understand that these are anxious times, trying times, but certain values never fade, go out of style, or pass away. Here at my school for gifted unicorns, we focus upon the values and the relationships that will secure our future.”

Lifting his hoof, Seville made a cutting motion to let Celestia know that he was done filming, and Celestia heaved an enormous sigh of relief. Several of the students began snickering, a few laughed, and after a moment, Celestia joined them, though a far more restrained smile was upon her face.

“So corny,” Celestia said, and her students laughed even more.

“But true,” a filly on the cusp of adolescence replied. “My mother sent me here with the hopes I would find my future husband. She’s going to be really disappointed though, I think.”

A nearby colt began to chortle, and his face turned red. “Because you keep kissing fillies.”

“Yep.” A manic gleam could be seen in the filly’s eyes, and her sides heaved when she brayed with laughter.

With a gentle look in her eye, Celestia gave the filly a nod, and then she looked at all of her students, the entire caravan of shutterbugs. “Sometimes, we have to tell parents one thing while we do another. Your teachers and I, we work very, very hard to create a safe, nurturing environment for all of you. There are times when parents are a little too caught up in the values of the past, and are unwilling to adapt or change to deal with the future. While you should always love and respect your parents, it is important to keep an open mind and think for yourselves. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Princess Celestia,” Most of the students said in unison.

“All of you are part of a brave new future, one where we focus on individualism.” Celestia’s voice was soft now, calm, and she was pleased to see little ears straining to listen. “Princess Twilight Sparkle and I both are conducting studies on programs that will produce exceptional individuals that can and will think for themselves. Hopefully, this will be part of the solution for the stagnation that our society faces.”

“Because we need change,” a tiny colt said.

“Yes, because we need change.” Celestia smiled at the colt and her ears perked when she heard his bashful, adoring squeak. “Now, class, can you tell me, what are the three tenets for emancipation from our current, stagnated ways?”

Again, the class responded as one: “The rise of individuality, the courage to resist fear, and the open-mindedness to accept new ideas.”

“Very good.” Celestia gave her students a nod. “I’m so very proud of all of you. Come, little ones. There is much to do and much to accomplish with the time that we have left. Hurry along, little ones, and follow me.”

Little Moon Rose wasn’t any different than an average foal, she had all of the same wants and needs, hopes and fears, all of the fragileness a filly her age was bound to have. Gosling pitied her for her plight, having such an extraordinary talent of exceptional ability. Standing near a window, Gosling watched as Flurry Heart and Moon Rose played together. His mother was having a quiet conversation with Hazy Breeze and Soprano Summer while the two foals played.

He was uncomfortable with the idea that she was an asset, but he understood the necessity. Like Sumac and the other ‘assets,’ she was a potential weapon, and potential weapons could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hooves. Or claws, or tentacles, or whatever. Lots of foals grew up as assets, but some slipped through the cracks.

Twilight Sparkle, who had a talent for magic, had grown up as an asset, a protected, sheltered asset. But Starlight Glimmer, who also had a talent for magic, she had not. Starlight, left unattended, had almost been the end of Equestria. The exact details were still unknown, only Twilight knew all of the relevant facts, and Twilight wasn’t talking due to the arrangement between her and Starlight.

Gosling wasn’t sure he liked the arrangement and was of the opinion that the Wardens should drag every single one of Starlight’s secrets out of the folds of her grey matter. Or maybe they had, and he hadn’t been told. He did, however, keep his opinions to himself, and a part of him respected the arrangement that Twilight had made, that of a promise kept in exchange for a lifetime of servitude and restitution. So far, Starlight was holding up her end of the bargain, and she had made herself an indispensable part of Equestria’s defense.

Moon Rose, sweet though she might be, could grow up to become a terror, and Gosling didn’t know how fair it was, how moral it was, or how ethical it was to interfere in her life. This was a part of leadership that he wasn’t comfortable with. Magic made things difficult, if not impossible. There was very little in the way of checks and balances for magic, though improvements were being made.

Unable to reconcile his own feelings about magic, Gosling instead chose to focus on the things he could understand and comprehend, like learning how to run the city of Canterlot. With a turn of his head, he glanced out the window upon his beloved city, and it was his city. He loved it, he adored it, and he was now a slave to its many imposing needs.

“You look thoughtful, Gosling.”

His mother’s words startled him, Gosling hadn’t been expecting to hear his name, and he let out a low, startled whinny. Ears pricking, standing straight up, Gosling turned his head to look at his mother and said, “I was just thinking about my city.”

“That’s quite a thing to say, Gosling, that you have a city.” Sleet gave her son a half-smile.

“This is the heart of Equestria.” While speaking, Gosling’s face became solemn, and his eyes narrowed into a focused, almost predatory stare. “So long as the heart stays healthy, the body lives and prospers. It’s a big responsibility and I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just glad I have good teachers.”

“That’s a hard lesson,” Sleet said while both Hazy and Soprano focused their attention upon Gosling. “Especially for a colt your age. Colts your age think they know everything and listen to nopony.”

“If I were to do something that stupid, millions and millions of lives will suffer for my mistakes.” Gosling could feel the weight of his crown even though his head was bare. “The entire world would suffer for my stupidity. It scares me, Ma, that I might make a mistake that causes misery on a scale I still have trouble understanding.”

“The fall of King Roan.” Sleet shook her head and her vivid blue eyes looked sad.

It was a story that Gosling knew all too well, and his mother had told him many, many times before bed. It was a cornerstone of his First Tribes heritage, the folly and danger of turning the magical age of fourteen and having your bit mitzvah. A long, long time ago, King Roan had celebrated his fourteenth birthday, had his bit mitzvah, and was crowned king.

Seven days later, he was dead, and his kingdom was embroiled in a terrible war that lasted for almost a full century, or so the story went. Upon reaching adulthood, that magical age of fourteen, King Roan had decided that he knew everything there was to know, and he ruled with an iron hoof. For a total of seven whole days. To try and quell the chaos and the violence, his own mother had poisoned him, and she herself as well as penance for what she had wrought upon the world.

Turning about, Gosling walked away from the window, and went over to where the two fillies sat playing together on the floor. He sat down, shifted a bit, then laid down on the soft, fuzzy rug, and in no time at all, he had situated himself in the pony-loaf position, secure beneath his cloak.

“Come, gather round little ones, and let me tell you the story about the fall of King Roan…”

Lunch was a welcome time, a celebrated time, and for Gosling, it was the first time he had seen Celestia this day. She was a little late, but nopony faulted her, and she made a graceful entrance. Lifting his head, he gave his wife a hopeful look, and Gosling’s eyes were eager as they looked upon the white alicorn.

The regal princess crossed the room, bringing light and warmth with her, as though she was a living sunlamp. She came to where Gosling sat in his chair, halted, and wrapped her wings around the two of them to form a small private space where she could greet him properly, and she did. Oh goodness, how she did.

Gosling leaned into the kiss with all of the enthusiasm that a colt his age could muster, and even remembered to angle his head off to one side. Inside the fortress of Celestia’s wings, the air grew hot, humid, a summer's day in miniature. The one twinge of bitterness to the kiss was the fact that Gosling kept his own wings tucked to his sides, as he did not dare touch his princess with his wings in their current naked, hideous state. But, oh how he longed to touch her, to spend time with her, to preen and pluck with her.

“Slurpy kisses,” Flurry Heart said to everypony present at the table. “Yucko.”

“Flurry, hush.” Sleet reached out with her wing and gave the foal a tickle, making her laugh.

“It sounds like somepony traipsing through a bog!” Blueblood said with all of his usual dry, cutting snark. “Really, some of us are hungry and have a schedule to keep!”

To silence Blueblood, Raven leaned over and kissed him, but it was a somewhat modest kiss, as Raven lacked wings to create a privacy barrier. Flurry watched for a moment, as did Moon Rose, and after a few seconds, little Flurry turned away with her tongue sticking out, much to the amusement of her mother, Cadance.

Shining Armor, not a shy pony, leaned over, grabbed Cadance, and got in on the lunchtime smoochy-smoochy action. Cadance, surprised, let out a muffled squeal of protest, but then warmed to the idea, so much so that she became the aggressor. Cadance raised her wings so they could have a moment of privacy to themselves, and giggling could be heard from behind them.

At the far end of the table, Soprano looked hesitant but hopeful, and then in a moment of sheer nerve, he grabbed the much smaller pegasus beside him, and before Hazy could respond in any meaningful manner, Soprano kissed him—no little peck, no chaste touching of the lips, but a passionate, affectionate lip-lock.

Nopony batted an eye—nopony cared. Not one disparaging eyebrow was raised, there was no snarky comment, no mean spirited barbs, nothing. Laughing with relief, Hazy raised his own wings, but did little to hide the ‘slurpy kiss’ that happened, and the two stallions were free to be themselves, without fear, without shame, without repercussions for their actions.

Moon Rose, who sat watching the ponies that she called her mother and her father, let out a happy sigh, thankful for the moment of acceptance and tolerance. Being a good filly, she sat with her front hooves resting on the edge of the table, with good posture as was befitting any proper Canterlot filly, and she waited for lunch to be served.

Author's Note

:trollestia: - :heart:

Chapter 10

It was funny how lunch could make everything better. Well, lunch, friends, and family. Wrapped in his cloak, Gosling made his way to Domestic Services, off in search of Purple Party. A little chat was needed, a little clearing of the air. Gosling thought of his relationship with Hotspur, who was trailing him while he walked. Sometimes, Hotspur was his guard, and at other times, his friend. The ruddy red pegasus was getting Eloquence & Elocution lessons to help sort out his speech, not that there was anything wrong with a Broncs accent.

After a nice meal, Gosling was eager to get things done. The afternoon held promise and he had a full agenda. After clearing the air with Purple Party, Gosling would spend the rest of the afternoon dealing with city related issues, approving budgets, settling disputes, ensuring public safety, and he felt as though he might be ready to tackle the education budget today, which was a real monster of a task.

One thing was for certain. All of this highlighted his need to return to school, which was going to happen. He was in over his head and he knew it, it could not be argued. Without the help of aides, seasoned advisors, and ponies that actually knew what they were doing, Gosling would have fallen on his face quite some time ago. The only thing he brought to the table was a fresh perspective, and he wasn’t bogged down by partisan politics. He was neutral, he was the tiebreaker, he was the decider.

Some of the decisions he had to make scared him a great deal.

“I still have my doubts, Cadance.” Celestia, who was sprawled over a sofa in a most unprincess-like manner, wiggled around while trying to find a comfortable position. “The events of the fall have left me shaken. Adventus has left me with an extreme feeling of unease. The current political situation has me jittery. I’m not having panic attacks, those seem to be better, but I am still plagued by doubt.”

Cadance, her mane done up in a careful bun, leaned forwards a little in her chair, and gave Celestia a thoughtful look. Her pen moved, writing down a few words, and her lower lip protruded somewhat, a sign that she was lost in concentration.

“The bad dreams are getting worse, and Luna has assured me that they are not her doing. They’re just the garden variety naturally-occurring bad dream. I keep seeing bad outcomes… bad ends… from all of the things that threaten us. And yet, there is a feeling that, as a nation, we haven’t been this strong for a while. The turmoil has been good for us. The ranks of the Stiff Upper Lip swell like never before. It… it is a very confusing time and I cannot make sense of my own feelings about it.”

“Hmm.” Cadance turned over a fresh page in her notebook, lifted up her glass of water, and took a short, quick sip. “Closer to home, how do you feel about Gosling and Luna?”

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked.

“Don’t be coy,” Cadance replied.

With an almost foalish expression, Celestia eyeballed her niece while fidgeting on the sofa, trying to find the ever-so-elusive comfortable position. “Very well, Cadance. I’ve found that I have some… feelings about them? That sounds worse than it is.”

“Jealousy?” One of Cadance’s eyebrows lifted.

“Not in the way you think.” Laying on her stomach, Celestia stretched out her neck and rested her head on the plush, overstuffed arm of the sofa. “I find myself a little jealous of Gosling at times—”

“Jealous… of Gosling?” Cadance’s expression became one of intense surprise as her professional mask broke. “That is not something I expected, at all. Please forgive my sudden interruption.”

“She’s my sister…” Celestia’s speech was soft, but not quite a whisper. “I’m her big sister… her protector. Her guardian. I’m supposed to be the one that makes things better. But… Gosling… he… is… better at it than I am. And sometimes, I hate him for it. There, I said it.”

Cadance sat there in stunned shock, unable to respond.

“Why can’t it be me? Why can’t I be the one that makes Luna feel better? Why can’t I reach her? It bugs me! She’s my sister! Do you have any idea how long she and I have been together? I can remember Luna being born and thinking to myself about all of the ways my life was going to change. I’m supposed to be the big sister, the pony that knows her better than anypony else… but the proud peacock just comes swooping in and the next thing you know, he’s a better friend to her than I am.”

“I’m not sure it’s fair of you to say that—”

“But it is true, Cadance!” Celestia’s long, perfect ears drooped until they rested against the sides of her face. “I feel terrible about being jealous over it, because Luna is happy and I want Luna happy… she’s happier now than she’s been in a long time… before the fall even. Now, I understand that friendship can’t cure mental illness, I get that, and I can maybe accept that Luna is bipolar, that she waxes and wanes with her moon, but her moods haven’t been this stable since… well, I can’t even think of a time, it’s been so long. The mania she suffers isn’t as bad and her depressive states, she doesn’t seem to sink quite so low.”

“That’s good.” Cadance smiled and was about to say more, but Celestia kept going.

“Why couldn’t I have been the one? I’m her sister, Cadance… this feels like failure.”

“This has been bothering you for a while, hasn’t it?” Cadance asked, and when she spoke, a strand of her mane slipped free of her bun, only to spill down the side of her face.

With a half-hearted nod, Celestia let out a sigh. “It’s worse than I’m letting on, to be honest. Sometimes, it… it really just eats at my insides. I’ve been angrier lately, losing my temper more, and I understand that I am naturally more aggressive in my current state, but this has been a huge factor in how cross I’ve been as of late.”

“Well then, Auntie, we need to sort this out…”

Purple Party seemed a little nervous, but that was to be expected. The stallion was almost hiding behind his desk. His office was small, cluttered, and crowded, making it obvious that he had been doing this job for a very long time. On the walls, pictures of foals had been hung, a life measured in photographs. Standing in the doorway, Gosling took all of this in with a few sweeping glances, and then he focused on Purple Party himself.

The unicorn was doing his best to act as though nothing was wrong.

“I wanted to apologise,” Gosling said, using his most gracious, most well-practiced voice. “It was wrong of me to holler at you, even if you disappointed me and let me down.” He heard a hard swallow from Purple Party, and the stallion’s jaw began moving up and down. “Something you’d like to say?”

“Am I going to lose my job?” Purple Party asked.

All of the anger from earlier returned, but Gosling held it in. No apology, no admission of failure, no promise to do better or make it right. Nothing of what Gosling expected. With anger came disappointment and the sensation of his ears being on fire. He wanted to rant and rave, he wanted to shout, he wanted to make Purple Party understand just how much he had screwed up.

“I’m six years away from retirement and a pension.” Mister Party’s words held a fearful quaver.

A great many terrible words almost spilled out of Gosling’s mouth, a military-grade chastisement, a real dressing down. But he bit his tongue, and the sudden pain snapped him back into focus. He looked away and looked at a picture of a filly on the wall. She had braces and her mane was done up in pigtails. Why were they called pigtails, anyhow?

“It’s funny,” Gosling allowed himself to say, “for a pony so worried about their job, you’re really lousy at doing it. You were given a simple set of instructions, and you ignored them completely.” While speaking, Gosling’s eyes focused upon a sun medallion, hung from a hook on the wall, an icon of faith. Seeing it gave him a mental pause and both of his eyebrows rose.

Purple Party was hardly even breathing at the moment.

“Say, tell me… how do you think your beloved Sun Goddess feels about you hating her sister? The tenets of her faith state that forgiveness and mercy are the two great ideals. So, let me tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to forgive you, even though you don’t deserve it, and I’m going to be merciful. You can keep your job, but I’ll never, ever have need of your services.”

In a very calm manner, Gosling backed out of the room, giving Purple Party a parting nod as he did so, then turned around and walked away with his head held high. Hotspur shut the door, leaving Mister Party in his office, alone. All things considered, Gosling felt rather proud of himself for how he had handled this.

Wiping her eyes, Celestia felt better after a good cry. She was laying on her back now, spread out in the most undignified position one could imagine, with one hind leg propped up and resting on the back of the sofa, with the other hanging off of the side. There was nothing regal about her state of repose—and Celestia was fine with that.

Resting on her stomach was a bright red box made of waxed cardboard, and inside, there was a perforated cardboard tray. The box had been full of chocolate covered cherries, twenty-four of them, the really good kind with the bourbon syrup. With Cadance’s help, she had destroyed it.

Cadance, sitting in her chair, had a smear of chocolate on her upper lip, and her fuzzy chin was sticky. Not that she cared. For she and her aunt were examples of the most majestic of all creatures; the pregnant, foal-bearing alicorn. After the intense heart to heart, sustenance had been needed, and Celestia had a stockpile stashed away.

“I need a soda,” Cadance remarked.

“Cadance, darling, gas.” Celestia made a dismissive wave with her hoof.

“I don’t care.” Cadance sniffed. “I’m a princess. Shining Armor thinks it is the funniest thing ever and no matter what I do, I can’t even begin to match the epic grossness that is my daughter, Flurry Heart.”

“You make a fine point.” Closing her eyes for a moment, Celestia scratched her stomach with her hoof, which caused her leg hanging off of the sofa to begin twitching. “Drinking a soda would mean getting up from this position, and I just got comfortable.”

“Relax gravity a little bit and go nuts.”

“Cadance, darling, you’ve become so practical.”

“I had a fantastic teacher.” Cadance concentrated, and with a pop, two bottles of Cadance~Cola appeared, conjured up from the castle cellars. With practiced-ease, she popped the caps and passed one bottle to her aunt. Already, Cadance could tell that one bottle wouldn’t be enough, the twelve ounce bottles were perfect for little ponies, not full sized majestic alicorns who bore the the weight of an empire upon their withers. With a sigh, she knew that she would need to conjure more.

Holding her bottle of Cadance~Cola, Celestia stared at the pink, bubbling liquid and appeared to be lost in thought. The scent of bubblegum and cotton candy perfumed the air, the signature scents of the effervescent pink soda loved by millions. As the sofa creaked beneath her impressive bulk, she rubbed her own belly a bit more, trying to rid herself of a growing cramp.

“I have never felt more beautiful than I am right now,” Celestia announced, and she radiated all of the splendour her reclining form could muster.

“Me too,” Cadance agreed.

“We are beautiful.” Celestia stuck out her tongue and made a silly face.

“We are sexy.” Cadance nodded in agreement and then she began trying to lick away the stickiness from her chin. “Auntie…”

“Yes?”

“It’s another alicorn… I can sense it.”

“Cadance, darling, Sleet deserves a raise. Do it now, before you drop this news on her.”

“I know.” After a moment, she added, “I will.”

Author's Note

This might need a few more edits. A fresh upload might happen later. For now, have a 3:10 AM chapter.

Chapter 11

This part of Canterlot Castle was most certainly not the dungeons and calling it such was a bit of a no-no. Oh, it might have been the dungeons at some point in the very recent past, but it had been renovated, repurposed, and given a new name to reflect its many changes. It was now the residence of their very special guest. It was one of the most secure places in all of Equestria, built to purpose and guarded by the Royal Pony Sisters themselves.

The walls were lined with sheets of thaumaturgical-infused plumbum—making it nigh-impossible for teleportation to work here—and crystalline fibre sandwiched between panes of dense glass. If one did somehow teleport here, one would find themselves in a soupy state, squished between two panes of glass. The most amazing informational factoid about this place was the cost, which was a Crown-guarded secret.

The system had already been tried and tested by an unwitting volunteer, an infiltrator.

Gosling was walled in on all sides by Celestia’s Immortal Solars, unicorns of exceptional skill, loyalty, and bravery. They were trusted by Celestia, and he trusted them as well. What choice did he have? Being a kind, decent sort, he waved at one of the free roaming changelings, and was rewarded with a wave in return. The free roaming changelings were not the enemy, so what harm was there in being nice to them?

There was a group of older students from the school down here, and Gosling guessed that they had to be studying biology. He knew from listening to his wife that there were lessons right now about thaumaturgically charged chromatophores and how they functioned as illusion projectors. Celestia had plans—big ones—that involved growing the thaumaturgically charged chromatophores on specialised sheets of chitin, and then using it as a projector screen. Things like movies and moving images could be shown in a projected three dimensional field, offering unparalleled realism. And this was just the first step. Later steps involved armor applications and military improvements once all of the bugs involved were ironed out.

Blueblood was already down here and was chattering away with a group of unicorns wearing clean, spotless white lab coats. The prince was animated, excited even, and none of his dry, cutting snark seemed present. Being the Spymaster, this was Blueblood’s baby and he had sunk a great deal of his own fortune into the project to make it happen.

“How is the Bossy Bug?” Gosling asked, and he was rewarded with a great many snickers from everypony except the Immortal Solars, who as a collective entity, had no sense of humour. Or so the rumours went, anyhow. “This is only my second time down here, and my first time down here since completion. I’m a little nervous.”

“Prince Gosling, it is wonderful to see you,” a unicorn mare said in a voice that could only be compared to claws being dragged down a chalkboard. She blushed and the cola-bottle-thick lenses in her glasses fogged over. “Hello, nice prince, could you sign my slide rule?”

“Maybe later,” Gosling replied, fighting back a smile.

“Oooh, that means I get to talk to you later!” The mare’s blush intensified and her glasses fogged over completely. “Oy vey, I’m schvitzing from my schplitzing, oooh my Ma warned me about this happening. I need air! Oy, air is needed, before the wheezing and the panting and the full-body schvitzing begins.”

Unable to stop himself, Gosling began chortling, understanding all too well the embarrassment that came with having your Ma’s warnings come true. Others too, began to laugh, and the merry mood was welcome. It was reassuring to find one of his own down in the depths of Canterlot Castle, and Gosling intended to sign her slide rule, once his wings grew back.

“Our guest is having issues adjusting,” another unicorn said to Gosling, answering his question. “We’ve been unable to make any progress in removing, uh, the, uh, hex that Discord placed upon her. With a lot of work, we’ve been able to advance her age, just a bit, but, uh, the, uh, moment that she is sarcastic, mean, or otherwise behaves in the manner that she is accustomed to, her age begins to regress and she goes backwards, uh, retreating through, uh, various life cycles.”

“It is quite traumatic for her.” The unicorn now speaking was obviously a student and appeared to be even younger than Gosling. “With the manifestation of any sort of hostility, she immediately regresses back to an infantile state. This leaves her frustrated and feeling vulnerable, meaning she is far more likely to lash out in a hostile manner.”

“And nothing can be done to help her?” Gosling asked.

“Well, no,” one of the unicorns replied, “Discord has powerful magic and he refuses to withdraw his punishing hex.”

“There is still some debate about if it is a hex or not.”

“Well, of course it is a hex, what else could be?”

“An emotion triggered transmogrification placed upon an emovorous creature with an unstable mood—”

“Preposterous!” The unicorn now speaking pushed his glasses up his muzzle in an act of aggressive, hostile nerdery. “You’ve just described a hex!”

“Did not!” another retorted. “A hex implies malicious intent and Discord is reformed! He’s clearly trying to offer her a compelling reason to behave! This is a transmogrification that will cease to be an issue once she gets her hostile, unchecked emotions back under control!”

“So says the pony whose IQ is below average room temperature!”

“And you live in your mother’s cellar in a room stained orange with Cheese-Doodle dust!”

“Property is very expensive in Canterlot!”

“That’s enough!” Blueblood commanded as his lip curled back in a sneer. “Both of you!”

It was cold down here, or maybe Gosling was missing his insulating feathers. He pulled his cloak around him tighter, but still felt the chill. The students and scientists were all glaring at each other and Blueblood right now. That was the thing with Canterlot Castle; Celestia’s older students took up positions here, working in various places, gaining much needed experience to put on their résumé.

Wait, there was one who wasn’t glaring or bent out of shape, and that was the young mare of the First Tribes that wanted him to sign her slide rule. She was gazing at him with some kind of distracted, worshipful adoration. The tip of her snoot was moist—glistening even—from her heavy breathing and she had chapped lips. Gosling began to feel disturbed and without realising that he was doing so, retreated behind one of the Immortal Solars just a bit.

“I think I’d like to see our guest now,” Gosling announced, and in doing so, caused Blueblood’s ears to perk. “The welfare of our guest is of utmost importance to me. I want to make certain that she is being treated well, with kindness and generousity.”

Nodding his head, Blueblood replied to Gosling, “Very well, but I must warn you… she bites!”

The room almost looked like a nursery and it reminded Gosling that he would be a father soon. It was spacious enough, well furnished, and sitting in a chair, surrounded by stuffed animals, appearing to be holding court was a teeny, tiny version of Princess Celestia. But Gosling wasn’t fooled, not even for a second. He put on his best smile and reminded himself to be charming.

“Hello Chrysalis,” Gosling said in his silkiest voice.

“Queen Chrysalis!”

Gosling exchanged a glance with Blueblood, then returned his attention to their guest. “Queen no longer. With your surrender, you forfeited any titles, ranks, and or positions.”

“And you promised to keep me safe!” Chrysalis spat as her disguise melted away.

“We have.” Blueblood’s eyes narrowed.

Chrysalis, in very foalish manner, beat her front hooves against the small table. “I was not protected from Discord!”

In the most polite manner that he could muster, Gosling took a seat at Chrysalis’ table, and he was careful not to knock over or bump any stuffed animals. Some of which may or may not be changelings, or so he had been warned. It was cold, cold enough to be painful, and he wished his cloak was thicker. Chrysalis was eyeing him, sizing him up, and Gosling could see the cunning in her eyes.

“I came to make sure that you are being treated well,” Gosling said to the changeling across the table. “For my own peace of mind, I need to know that everything that is being done is done with your consent. I want to make certain that you are reasonably happy. I am also here to listen to and address any concerns that you might have.”

Eyes narrowing, Chrysalis asked, “Why would you even care?”

With a sigh, Gosling realised that some consideration was needed when he answered this one. He chose honesty, knowing full well that Chrysalis would know if he was telling the truth. “I was tasked with the responsibility of overseeing the integration of changelings into our society,” Gosling began. “It is a massive project of governance that is intended to teach me how to be an effective ruler. I have to delegate responsibility and maintain strong leadership through what is sure to be a trying and unpopular act of governance—”

“So they are setting you up to fail?” A smug sneer appeared on Chrysalis’ face.

“I don’t feel that way, no.” Gosling’s response was patient and careful. “But they are throwing me to the political wolves to see if I can fight. And fight I will. I want changelings given equal rights and opportunities. I want them recognised as full Equestrian citizens now that they have been freed from your domineering influence.”

“I couldn’t keep them safe, and neither will you,” Chrysalis spat and her face took on a sour expression. “I lost them, one by one I lost them, as my hold over them was either broken by powerful magic or stolen away by those damnable bumbles!”

“Ah yes, bumble jelly.” Blueblood looked both worried and disgusted. “Completely wipes a changeling’s brain and turns them into willing, obedient drones for Queen Bumblina. We’re working on the issue and we hope that our allies, the breezies, might be able to help us.”

For a second, Chrysalis appeared to be hopeful, but then masked herself with contempt. Gosling studied her, taking advantage of everything he had learned from playing poker and other bluffing games with Raven and the others. Chrysalis was used to hiding her real face behind a disguise and was terrible with hiding her tells. The cold, calculating former Queen of the Changelings did have some emotions, some feelings for her former subjects. Subjects? Slaves? Gosling gave the issue as much consideration as he could while he studied Chrysalis’ eyes.

“It is in your best interest to help me, Chrysalis,” Gosling said while he stared at the yearling sized changeling.

Scowling, Chrysalis did not respond.

“Are you happy here?” Gosling asked, falling back on his whole purpose of coming here.

“What’s the alternative?” Chrysalis demanded as wisps of green fire danced along her body. “What choice did I have? That stupid, mouthy foal was right!”

“Well, there is an alternative,” Blueblood said in a dry deadpan. “You could get captured by our enemies, who will then cut you apart, harvest your organs, and have everything they need to craft an elixir of revival. Our intelligence indicates that this is what was planned for you. They have one of Grogar’s horns, you see—”

Her lower lip quivering, Chrysalis stared at Blueblood in wide-eyed terror.

“—and you foolishly gave away your position when you offered to bargain with them for Sumac.” A cruel, terrible smile spread over Blueblood’s muzzle and his eyes had a malicious gleam. “So, in a sense, Sumac saved your life. You are here, alive and whole of body right now because his silver tongue robbed you of your confidence. Sumac Apple scared you by telling you the truth. Such an honest little colt, that one. It’s taking an entire army to raise him right and bend him against his natural inclinations now that he is maturing a little, but the investment in time and ponypower is already paying dividends.”

“You’re monsters!” Chrysalis hissed.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Blueblood clucked his tongue while shaking his head.

“Blueblood, don’t be an ass.” Gosling refrained from licking his lips and revealing his nervousness. “We’re not monsters, Chrysalis. We’re doing everything we can to protect you from those who wish to harvest you—”

“Only to save yourselves!”

“Yes, but by saving ourselves, we are also protecting the changelings… and every other sapient species that will join our cause.” Gosling leaned forwards a bit, wishing that he could somehow reach the troubled soul across the table from him. “I am trying to be your friend. I am trying to make the best of this awful situation. Our mutual interests have become entwined. I don’t care that we were enemies in the past, I am trying to help you now.”

“My needs are met here,” Chrysalis admitted in a low whisper, “but I am not happy.”

Sighing, Gosling nodded. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Talk to me, Chrysalis, so that I might help you…”

Author's Note

Good pony, bad pony.

Chapter 12

For most ponies, their work day would be winding down, nearing its end, and all that would be left would be the final slog. Gosling was not most ponies. His work day began when he woke up, and came to an end when he closed his eyes to go to sleep. This was the brutal schedule of everypony in the royal family. There was always something that needed to be done for their beloved country.

Kibitz, who walked beside him, began to read from the planner. “Princess Celestia wants you to spend more time with Moon Rose and her parents. She feels that a certain level of trust needs to be inspired and she believes that you are good for the, how shall we say, ‘asset program.’ I am inclined to agree, Your Majesty.”

“Kibitz, we’ve been over this, don’t call me that.” Gosling gave the pony beside him his best goofy grin in an attempt to destroy Kibitz’s composure.

“Very well, Sire.” Kibitz returned Gosling’s smile and added, “I see you’ve been practicing your best birth control smile, Sire. Should you desire to be foal free in the future, I believe your current expression will be adequate.”

“Yous is a funny pony, aren’t yous, Kibitz?” After a moment, Gosling continued, “I hate thinking of them as assets, but what else are they? The Crown would be irresponsible if it didn’t keep track of exceptionally gifted individuals and we’ve already seen what happens if one slips through unnoticed.”

“Indeed we have, socially-minded Sir Gosling.” Kibitz gave Gosling a good-natured smile and then returned his attention to the day planner. “Starlight Glimmer, Sir. Proof that one gifted foal, if left unattended, can bring down a nation. Our nation, in this particular instance. Princess Celestia is wise indeed to apply your charm and wit within the asset program.”

“You really think so, Kibitz?”

“I do,” he replied, “along with charm and wit, you bring a certain… how shall we say… sincerity. A certain earnestness. You have an honest and sincere desire to look after the individual because you care about their well being, and not about what they might possess that makes them an asset.”

Touched, Gosling nodded and pulled his cloak tight around him. “Thank you, Kibitz.”

“Don’t mention it, Gosling.” Kibitz sighed, rolled his eyes, and then looked at Gosling once more. “Sir, Mister Purple Party begs to see you. I just remembered it. Do you think you can spare a few moments? I am almost certain he wishes to apologise and we have a priority to maintain good relations with the castle staff.”

“Yeah, I’ll do the right thing,” Gosling responded, and his ears splayed out sideways.

“Good. Remember, Sir… one good deed can be the salvation of a nation.”

“Yeah, hey, no pressure, right, Kibitz? No pressure at all. Ugh.” Gosling reminded himself that one irked pony was an asset for the Ascendancy, or a wagging tongue for the press. There was, indeed, a mess here in need of a clean-up.

“You’ll find Mister Purple Party in the north wing retreat lounge.”

“Okay, I’ll go meet him there,” Gosling replied with a nod.

“Little Miss Moon Rose is in the north wing diplomat’s parlour.”

“Right.”

“Sir, one last thing.”

“What’s that, Kibitz?”

“Your heart, Sir…”

“Yeah?”

“Is in the right place. That is all.”

The retreat lounge was a small secluded hideaway, a place to go when pressures or stress became overwhelming and one needed a quiet moment. It was a small, cosy place, and the one in the north wing was Gosling’s favourite. He considered it his. Celestia favoured the west wing retreat lounge, Luna was rather fond of the east, and the south retreat lounge was just a few doors away from Blueblood’s study.

The south retreat lounge was pretty much a liquor storage closet that stank of depravity and sadomasochism.

Guards saluted as he passed, and Gosling gave them a nod of acknowledgement, not wishing to reveal his wings in their current state. It was cold and drafty in the castle, there were a lot of spaces that were not heated, it was impossible to heat a space this large. Without his feathers, Gosling had no natural protection from the cold, which left him miserable.

The door was ajar and Gosling did not slow as he approached. His fatigue, such as it was, he kept that from showing. If he was going to deal with this pompous prick, perhaps it was time to take a page from Blueblood’s playbook and play cutthroat. Or maybe follow Luna’s example… he could be cold, imperious, and mysterious if he had to be. Or perhaps, following Celestia’s example might be wise, and he could be—

“Confessor…”

Gosling’s entire train of thought derailed and he froze just inside the door. Purple Party didn’t look so good and even though Gosling was more than a little peeved with the unicorn at the moment, he felt a pang of sympathy. There was also the matter of being called ‘Confessor,’ as that title carried certain connotations and expectations.

“Confessor, I have erred,” Purple Party said in a low, phlegmy voice.

At that moment, Gosling knew that he didn’t have the luxury of being anything other than himself. All of the thoughts about the different ways to approach this situation just fizzled out and he stood there, looking rather dull and vacant. After the train crash, Gosling’s brain scrambled to recover and regain his noble bearing.

“I can’t offer any excuses, only an explanation,” Purple Party said to Gosling with his head bowed down low. “I was used to a certain level of autonomy… like the Head Maid or the Head Butler. I have done this job for years with nopony to answer to.” The distraught unicorn drew in a shaky, shuddering breath, blinked a few times, and bowed his head a little lower.

“Go on.” Gosling’s own breathing was shallow and he struggled to keep his own emotions in check.

“When I found out that you were placed in charge of the castle staff, above me, I began to worry a bit, but I told myself that you were just a pony in need of something to do, some responsibility for your new position. I convinced myself that not much would change. But when you started giving me orders… I began to resent you.”

“I see.” Gosling, recovering a bit, began to study Purple Party, looking for any evident tells, and his own face was now a blank mask of authority.

“I convinced myself that you had no idea what you were doing, and I chose to defer to my own many years of experience.” Purple Party swallowed, looked Gosling in the eye for several agonising seconds, and then, turning away, he closed his eyes. “Confessor, as a pony of the First Tribe, I held onto my biases and my beliefs… I let them interfere with my job, and for this, I am truly sorry. I beg forgiveness… not just as your employee, but also as your devotee, Confessor.”

This was now wide open sky, an unknown and scary place for Gosling. These were unknown horizons, new territory, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He was still learning, still training for this, he was still getting instruction from older, wiser sorts that knew everything there was to know about this. The fear was almost paralysing.

“The shunning,” Purple Party said in a low voice that began to gain volume. “It can be hard to go against the very thing that you were raised from birth to believe in… I made a very foolish choice and I regret it!”

“I understand.” Gosling’s own emotions became a confusing jumble and he didn’t know what else to do or say. Even worse, he didn’t understand the rules. He was a pegasus, and Purple Party was a unicorn. He was the Confessor for the Pegasus tribe, but Purple Party was approaching him as a devotee. The inter-tribal moment of faith became a jumble of intense confusion, a real tangle of a mess that Gosling didn’t know how to sort out.

“Confessor, I request a chance to atone for my slights, and to earn forgiveness for my sins. I beg of you, give me a chance. I am willing to resign if that is necessary, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I am sincere.”

“I will not accept your resignation.” Gosling’s own words surprised him, and he stood there, blinking a few times, trying to figure out what had just come out of his own mouth. The tongue was a wicked organ, full of betrayal, deceit, and lies, or so his mother had said many, many times when he was growing up.

“Confessor?”

“No,” Gosling said, still amazed at his own mouth. “There is no way that you are getting off that easy. There will be no resignation, no running away from the problem.”

Purple Party lifted his head, looked Gosling in the eye, and then just stood there, confused.

Squinting, Gosling peered into Purple Party’s eyes with great intensity, as if he was trying to look into the unicorn’s soul. The regret was real, Gosling could sense it, and his own senses—his pegasus observation powers—told him that he would find no resistance in Purple Party. Gosling set his mind to work, trying to find a means of restitution that was fair, just, and clever, or maybe just fairly clever.

“This position that has been bestowed upon me, being head of castle staff, I’m supposed to learn responsibility from it. I have free rein to do whatever I feel is necessary, and I’ve avoided getting involved because honestly, the whole thing is intimidating, scary, and there is just too much to learn, along with everything else that I have to figure out.” Gosling was surprised by his own honesty, and by how good it felt to confess his own shortcomings.

His ears pivoted forwards, facing Purple Party, and Gosling continued, “I need to take this responsibility seriously, and to do that, I need to learn how to do this job.” He paused for a moment to think about everything he was saying, and to study Purple Party’s face. “For your lapse in judgment, I am going to promote you, Mister Party, to work as my instructor. You are going to teach me how to do your job. You are going to teach me everything there is to know as the Director of Staff. You will teach me everything about the day to day operations of this place, and all of your many years of experience will be put to good use.”

“Confessor?” The purple unicorn looked quite confused.

“But,” Gosling added, “as punishment for your misdeed, you will take on all of this new responsibility, but you will not see an increase in pay. You will suffer my hard-headedness and all of my wacky antics.”

“Confessor, that seems remarkably fair.” Purple Party gulped and then averted his eyes. “What about the Winter Moon Festival?”

“Are you willing to help me?” Gosling asked. “I mean a real, sincere desire to help.”

“Confessor, I think that would be a natural starting point to begin your tutelage in staff management.” With a few rapid blinks of his eyelids, Purple Party returned eye-contact with Gosling, and gave him a timid, but hopeful smile. “I should very much like to atone for my failures.”

“And I would very much like to be your friend,” Gosling replied. “So, let’s put all of this behind us, do our best to forget about it, and concentrate on doing good work together.”

“Thank you, Confessor.” Purple Party bowed his head and let heave a sigh of immeasurable relief.

“Go home,” Gosling commanded. “Get some rest. We’ll start tomorrow. Talk to Kibitz about the schedule.”

“Right, thank you again, Confessor.”

Gosling stepped aside and watched as Purple Party exited the room. The stallion retreated, looking as meek and submissive as possible, and he also looked quite relieved. Sighing, he wondered if he had handled this well, or if he had just made a colossal mistake. Only time would tell. With this arrangement, with this solution, Purple Party’s ego had been appeased and his sense of equinal value had not been diminished.

But had he done the right thing? Gosling contemplated this conundrum while standing in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular. An even more important question formed in his mind: Would Celestia be happy with this arrangement? He had just mixed faith and secular duties. Had he crossed a line? Broken a rule? Doubt began to gnaw at the back of his mind and he began to second-guess himself.

All of this would have to be settled at another time, because for now, he had to look after Moon Rose.

Author's Note

Discuss!

Chapter 13

Luna appeared to be nervous, out of sorts, and this made Celestia worry. It also appeared that Luna had not slept, thus further increasing the worry that Celestia felt. It was a big sister thing, one tended to worry about one’s manic-depressive little sister when she had not slept. She also seemed distracted, out of sorts, and fretful.

“Luna, you look a little blue…”

Upon hearing these words, Luna’s head made a slow turn towards her smirking sister. Celestia saw Luna blink—a lot could be said with a single blink—and one ear quivered like a flag waving in the breeze. The other ear stood rigid, defiant enough to resist gale-force winds. When Luna’s nostrils flared, Celestia chuckled.

Before Luna could say anything in response, Gosling entered the room, and Celestia watched as her sister began what could only be described as a near-nervous meltdown. Luna hustled, no, ran towards Gosling, causing the colt to freeze in place, and Celestia wondered what was going on. Luna was acting like… a filly. Yes, Celestia thought to herself, my little sister is acting just like a filly. Remaining where she was, she gave Luna space so she could be free to be herself.

“Gosling…” Luna came to a swaying halt and her horn glowed with a glittering blue light. Something shapeless popped into existence beside Luna’s head, and then she stood there, just staring at Gosling, appearing to be baffled by her own actions. “We read a manual on knitting and We found it was very complicated.”

Saying nothing else, Luna yanked off Gosling’s cloak and dropped it to the floor, causing the pegasus to whinny from embarrassment. Before he could protest, she lifted him into the air while he let out a wickering cry of alarm, and then pulled something over his head. While Gosling fussed in a foalish manner, Celestia realised that Luna was slipping a black and blue sweater over him, sliding it down his neck, putting his forelegs through the sleeves, and then sliding it over his barrel.

When everything was done, Luna began to survey her work, and Celestia saw the all too troubling sign of Luna’s protruding lower lip. One sleeve was longer than the other and the sweater was a lumpy, lopsided, misshapen mess. Celestia found herself taking a step closer, but then made herself stop, knowing that the situation right now was volatile. If she was careless, she could be the one to set Luna off, and there would be fireworks with the tears that were certain to come.

“You made this for me?” Gosling said in a low voice.

“It looks awful,” Luna murmured, “let Us take it off.”

“No.” Gosling’s tone was firm. “Put me down, Moonshine.”

Lower lip trembling, Luna did as Gosling requested, then stood there, pulling and tugging on the sweater, trying to make it somehow look a little more presentable. “It was most difficult. We made it from the finest, softest wool that we could find so it would not irritate your bare flesh. Why must all of Our hard work look so terrible?”

“I like it.” Gosling leaned in and pressed his muzzle against Luna’s neck, which caused her to jump in place. “It’s soft and its warm. I’ve been freezing all day.”

“But it looks dreadful—”

“I don’t care. Thank you, it was very nice of you to do this. I think it looks fine for a first effort. It was very considerate of you to do this for me. Thank you, Night-Wife.”

“Are you actually going to wear it?” Luna asked, sounding both incredulous and a bit flabbergasted. She was also blushing and her cheeks had the same purple-red shade as beets.

“Yeah,” Gosling replied. “If you go through the trouble of making me a sweater, I’m going to wear it. That’s all there is to it.”

Celestia’s heart grew wings and began to flutter around inside of her barrel. She blamed her sudden rush of emotions on hormones, and then began wiping at her eyes with her soft, downy wings while staring at the two ponies necking before her. Luna was stammering now, her lips were flapping together and her mouth was moving, but no words seemed to be coming forth.

Then, with sudden, almost raptorial movement, with a rush of wings and the rustle of feathers, Luna pulled Gosling into a hug and held him close. Luna’s eyes were closed and Celestia, who knew her sister well, saw relief on Luna’s face. The sweater could be fixed with a little magic, but Celestia would speak to Luna about that later, in private, when the emotion she was experiencing wasn’t quite so raw.

“Come on, you two, let’s go to dinner,” Celestia said when Luna began to pull away.

The dining room was small and not the one Gosling expected. There were many dining rooms, enough so that he still got lost on occasion. This one had no windows, but had a fireplace. He had no idea how the chimneys worked in the castle, and liked to imagine that vast sections of endless forests had to be chopped down to get enough firewood to fuel all of these cosy, crackling fires.

Pausing, he looked at the table, which was small, round, and intimate. It seemed they were dining alone this evening, with nopony else. Just the three of them. For some reason, Gosling always felt more self-conscious when dining alone with Celestia and Luna, though he could not say why. Even more so now without his wings. Without his wings, he lacked his usual, graceful means to pull out both Celestia and Luna’s chairs for them.

Before he had the chance to think much about it, Luna seated herself, and then so did Celestia. Blinking once, he realised that he was making a bigger deal of it than those two were, and with a sheepish grin, he sat down at the table, slipping into his chair, which was wood, with no padding. These types of chairs were slippery against his sleek pelt, and he didn’t much like them.

“I understand that you made a friend today, Gosling.”

Startled, Gosling looked over to his right, at Celestia, and he failed to hide his feelings. “Yeah I did. Were you spying on me?”

“Of course.” Clucking her tongue once, Celestia smiled. “I would be remiss if I did not keep a few eyes and ears on your progress as you acclimate to your expected duties.”

This made sense and Gosling nodded. “And do you approve?” He saw that he now had Celestia’s full attention, and he knew her well enough to know that she was thinking, no doubt sizing up the situation to offer advice, or to choose her words with great care. With the small, cosy room and his sweater, Gosling was warm for the first time today.

“It is not what I expected, not in the slightest, but I must confess, I am pleased with the outcome. You and Mister Party found a common ground and a reason to work together. He is a very proud pony that has had decades to become set in his ways. I sort of figured that the two of you would bang heads together.”

“So this was a test—”

“Of course it was, my silly little bathtub toy.” Celestia sniffed. “And I had contingencies set in place to make sure that everything would get smoothed over should things go awry.”

“You have turned an enemy into a useful ally,” Luna said, interjecting her own thoughts.

This was a conversation that Gosling did not want to have. He turned away from Celestia to look at Luna, then back to Celestia once more. Both were close enough to touch, they were within reach, and he rather liked this dining arrangement. It felt more like a family dinner, which he craved. Some of the tables in the castle could be used as runways.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked.

“Fondant potatoes, that dish you like,” Celestia replied, “and a delightful cassolettes bouquetière.”

“Uh…”

“Creamed vegetables with asparagus spears and cauliflower florets,” Luna said, offering up an explanation.

“So, stinky pee, later,” Gosling remarked, giving no thought to his words. His ears perked when Luna began chortling, and when he looked over at her, she had covered her mouth with her wing. When he turned to face Celestia however, he discovered that she was giving him the look. Well, since he was already in trouble, there was only one thing left to do.

“That messes with my plans, see, I was thinking that yous and I could mess around with watersports later. Ya know, a little pegasus rain play, and turning our pee into clouds. But I dunno if I wanna do that with stinky pee, ‘cause that’s just foul.” Grinning, Gosling was proud at how much deeper he had dug his own grave, and he took immense satisfaction from how much Celestia was shaking, trying to hold back her laughter.

“Gosling dear, do you enjoy the sunshine while it’s raining?” While speaking, Celestia gave the brave pegasus her most saucy wink.

“Yous a dirty girl.”

“You have no idea.” Luna, still tittering, struggled to say her next words. “From what We understand, Gosling, once you have worn out her grassy meadow, you like to roll her over to play in the mud.” Still hiding her muzzle behind her wing, she added, “Ah, the blessing of youthful enthusiasm and near-instant recovery.”

“Yous both are dirty girls.”

“We hast accustomed Ourselves to modern hygiene standards.” Luna sounded a little embarrassed. “Our downdrafts are no longer considered acts of war nor aggression and We no longer clean Our teeth with urine.”

“How ‘bout them good old days?” Gosling’s cheeks bulged as he held his breath for a moment, and then he let it out in a huff. He rubbed his naked, featherless wings against his sides and delighted in the sensation of the soft, fuzzy wool in contrast to his own thick pelt. Now, Celestia was snickering, and much to Gosling’s relief, Luna started laughing again, though it sounded a bit like nervous laughter.

Well oiled hinges made no squeak when the meal was wheeled into the room. The server was a unicorn, as most servers in the castle were, and he looked a little tired, as though he had endured a long day. He was quiet, but polite, and kept his ears down in a submissive manner as he drew nearer the table.

“Reme, forgive me for mentioning this right now, but your daughter turned in a brilliant paper in class the other day.” As Celestia spoke, the fatigued unicorn perked up and he began to smile.

“Merci beaucoup, votre Altesse.” Reme bowed his head, but kept eye-contact with Celestia. “You are very kind, it makes my many years of service here meaningful, knowing that all of my hard work for my daughter’s education is paying off.”

“She’s talented at chemical, electrical, and mechanical engineering. Why, she’s a triple threat. I expect great things from her in the future.” While Celestia spoke, Reme began putting the food on the table and making sure that everything was perfect. Turning her head, Celestia focused on Gosling. “Tuition fees are waived for castle staff, Gosling. Many of the workers that look after our every need do so to provide a future for their foals.”

Gosling nodded, feeling as though there was a lesson somewhere in all of this.

With the food on the table, Reme bowed his head to both of the princesses, and then to Gosling last. “Bonne nuit, vous tous.” Then, pushing the cart before him, the server headed out of the room, humming a cheerful tune while he made his exit.

When the door shut, Celestia said, “That reminds me… speaking of gifted students, Gosling, I need to talk to you about something.” Staring at Gosling, Celestia began serving herself in an absentminded manner, loading down her plate with as much food as could possibly fit.

“Yeah?” A whole mess of fondant potatoes landed on Gosling’s plate, and he eyed them, hungry, ready to destroy them. He was glad they were eating in private. Next came the creamed vegetables with the asparagus spears and cauliflower florets. A little dribbled over one side because Celestia was careless and Gosling pretended not to notice. At least none of it landed on him or his sweater.

“I have two students,” Celestia started to say as she began to sprinkle black pepper over her plate with reckless abandon. “Administrative assistants. Secretarial sciences. Both are exchange students, twins, a brother and a sister from jolly old Liverypool. They are fantastically brilliant, but they have reached a stage where they must do, rather than just be taught. Raven says they are ready to work.” The white alicorn’s nostrils flared and for a moment, her tablemates both feared she might sneeze.

In close quarters, such a thing could be devastating and there might be no survivors.

“I’m going to assign them to you, Gosling.” Then, her nostrils still flaring, Celestia shoveled in an enormous mouthful of food and began chewing with great gusto. Smacking and licking her lips, she waited for Gosling’s response while a little sauce squirted out from the corner of her mouth.

“Okay,” Gosling said, distracted by the white sauce dribbling down from the corner of Celestia’s moving lips and he wondered if it was an intentional act to throw him off guard. He didn’t care if it was, and his hormone-addled adolescent brain burned with frenzied, feverish fantasies favouring frantic, frenetic face-fronking. Now, he was far too warm, and his naked, featherless wings wished to be released from the confines of his sweater.

“Good!” Celestia smiled, causing even more saucy gravy to run down her chin. She was startled by a sudden thump from beneath the table, which caused everything to bounce and rattle. “Gosling, are you okay? You suddenly looked pained.”

“I’m fine,” Gosling squeaked as he hunched over, clutching at his lower torso. “Tell me more about my future assistants, if you please…”

Author's Note

Chapter 3 of The Sun Also Surprises. Why yes, it is a callback. The boomerang returneth, huzzah!

Chapter 14

There was a very pretty pony in the mirror, yes indeed. Gosling admired himself in the somewhat fogged over bathroom mirror, adoring his own reflection, and admiring his own perfect wings. Turning them at the joint, he angled them forwards, revealing the topside of his feathers to the mirror, and then turning them at the joint once more, he angled them backwards, revealing their downy undersides. Back and forth he turned his wings, reveling in their perfection.

There was no pegasus more pretty or perfect, not one.

It was too bad that this wasn’t real. Gosling knew that when he awoke from this pleasant dream, his wings would be hideous and naked again. Still, there was no reason why he couldn’t enjoy this for what it was, and so he did. Wolf-whistling at himself, he then began to make kissy-noises at his own reflection, as one might do with a beloved parrot or pet bird. It was ridiculous, but Gosling was a ridiculous pony. What he did in his dreams was his own business. He was free to be himself, and he had no shame for his self-love.

Sure, vain ponies were annoying, and Gosling knew this, even accepted it, but he also knew that he was the real deal. When he announced that he was pretty, Gosling wasn’t being vain—no, he was stating a fact. Surely, stating an undeniable, established fact couldn’t possibly be considered vanity. His self-adoration was interrupted by the bathroom door opening, and Luna entering the bathroom.

She snorted, because of course she did, and then stood there, shaking her head while rolling her eyes. Gosling gave her something to look at, swaying his head from side to side while waving his extended wings about. Pegasus ponies had their own language of love, an avian one—it was showy, expressive, and sultry. And Gosling? He might just be the most expressive avian orator who had ever lived. At least, he liked to think so. Tilting his head back, he let out a warbling cry to attract the attention of his mate, hoping she would answer him in kind.

“We leave you to your own devices in Our dream realm, and this is what you do.”

“Well, yeah.” Gosling grinned and nodded, then gestured at the water faucet over the sink. “Wanna turn on the water and make this dream a little damp? I’ve been working on a new plumage display. I bet I could get your juices flowing—”

“No!” Luna’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, saucy cockrel, We have come to you seeking your help.”

“Do you have a sexy problem that requires my sexy services?” Gosling asked.

“Yes, actually.” The corner of Luna’s right eye had a slight tic to it, and she appeared nervous. “Your… unique abilities will be an asset. We need the prettiest pegasus in all the realm.”

“Ooooh, recognised.” Gosling swayed from side to side. “Mmm, mmm, mmm! Good looking!”

“There is a young pegasus in Cloudsdale that needs your help, Gosling—”

Ears perking, Gosling gave Luna his full attention, because this sounded serious.

“—for We are very worried about him. It has come to Our attention that he is suicidal and filled with despair.” Luna now had her composure, and her eye had stopped twitching. She took a step closer to Gosling, who was now holding still, and then stood there with her muzzle inches away from his own. “He is a little younger than you, a member of the First Tribes, and comes from an ancient bloodline.”

“So what’s the problem, exactly?” Gosling asked. “And how can I help?”

“The problem is, he’s gay,” Luna responded, looking Gosling in the eye. “He thinks there is something wrong with how he is, when there isn’t. He feels much pressure to continue the family bloodline. In a few weeks, he’ll be celebrating his bit mitzvah and will be seen as an adult. This terrifies him.”

“Okay, what can I do?” Gosling asked, wondering how this was a sexy problem that required his sexy services, his ever-so-valuable sexpertise, as it was.

“We require your help to craft an erotic dream,” Luna deadpanned, her voice heavy and flat as a cast iron comal. “We doth require the Confessor for the Pegasus Pony Tribe to put on a saucy plumage display for this young pegasus. We need for you to convince him that it is alright to feel this way and that he is not doing anything wrong. More so, We need for you to convince him to seek help for how he feels.”

“I see.” Gosling stood there, unmoving, and realised that he couldn’t feel Luna breathing on him, which was disconcerting. The dream realm had its own rules and peculiarities. “So, what am I supposed to do, exactly?”

“Your dream aspect need not molest him in his sleep.” Luna’s voice was a flat, controlled monotone, revealing no emotion, no amusement, there was nothing. “Flirt with him. Make him feel special, appreciated, the way you flirt with Us, mine sister and I. Just be thyself.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Gosling’s eyes narrowed and he studied Luna’s face, hoping for some slip, some revealed detail that might tell him the truth. She nodded, and somehow, for some reason, Gosling was not reassured. He drew in a deep breath, then remembered that he didn’t need to breathe in this realm. The sooner he remembered all of the little details about this place and its quirks, the sooner he would be able to assert more control here. “Okay, fine. I’ll do as you ask. Just tell me whatever it is that you have planned.”

Stepping away, Luna opened the bathroom door, and beyond it, there was an endless expanse of beautiful, twinkling stars. The entire universe awaited beyond the yawning door, a beautiful, perfect, inviting place that stretched out forever in all directions. She blinked once, revealing a moment of annoyance, slammed the door shut with an ear flattening bang, and then opened it once more. This time, it opened into a blank, bare, gleaming white featureless hallway filled with more doors.

“Yous was distracted by my sexiness, wasn’t yous?” Gosling asked.

“Only for a fraction of a second,” Luna admitted in the faintest of whispers. “Now We intend to use it as a weapon in our arsenal. Come, let Us slay a dragon known as Despair.”

“Fine.” Gosling snorted. “I can do a sexy dance to save a life and I am secure enough in my masculinity to do this. Let’s go and kick this dragon’s ass.” Folding his wings to his sides, he cast one final glance at the pretty pony in the mirror, knowing that he would miss his wings in the waking world.

Luna stepped through the door and Gosling followed after his best friend.

Weird memories of going shopping lingered in Gosling’s mind. Shopping and fabulous clothing. Not quite awake, he lingered in the nebulous expanse that existed between the dream realm and the waking world. Oh, and closets… changing rooms? His eyelids flickered as his brain tried to process what had taken place. So much had happened that it all felt like days had passed.

He and Luna had taken a troubled colt shopping and got him to try on new things. But every time the colt would disappear into the changing room to try something on, he wouldn’t want to come out again, because he was afraid to reveal himself. So Gosling had to talk him out, he had to be lured out of the closet, the changing rooms, over and over again, each time that something new, something bolder, something more flamboyant was tried. Reassurances had to be made, kind, soothing words, along with everything that had happened, filtering through a surreal experience that could only seem to happen in dreams.

At some point, it broke into a song and dance number, where Gosling had to fall back on his extensive knowledge of show tunes, with him and Luna wearing magnificent feather boas and sequined dancing shoes, explaining that if the colt was gay, that would be okay. Gosling could feel himself rising into the waking world, but he fought to remain asleep, to sort out these jumbled memories.

He himself, had faced accusations of being gay, accusations which had troubled him, made him feel guilty, confused, and ashamed. Because of his love of culture, of music, of art, of theatre, of show tunes, and with Skyfire’s accusations, pretty much everypony that was anypony thought he was gay, as all of the available evidence seemed to suggest. Gosling realised that he was still living under the burden of this, beneath this shadow, that he still had troubling feelings about everything that had happened.

The barriers, the walls he had built because of these issues, they broke. Shattered. Every brick that had been added to the walls he had constructed gave way—the thorn left in his own mind was expelled, along with all of the anguish and the angst. As he hovered on the edge of consciousness, he saw a dark blue shadow drifting away through the flashes of colour that danced on the inside of his eyelids.

As Gosling began to rise to the surface, his mind made the realisation that Luna hadn’t saved just one troubled mind this night, but two, being the clever, knowledgeable, and experienced mare that she was. With the sudden flood of relief and joy, his consciousness surged, demanding release into the waking world. His eyelids fluttered, and the shackles of sleep tore free from him one by one…

With a powerful, trumpeting snort, Gosling awoke, sandwiched between two heavy mares. He lay on his side, warm, toasty, and his head sunk deep into the pillow. Luna was pressed up against his back, she clung to him and had one foreleg around his neck. The other was digging into his back, because where else could it go?

His belly was pressed up against Celestia’s back, and it was like lying on a sun-heated rock. A radiant, almost searing warmth came from the big white alicorn whose sides rose and fell like a blacksmith’s bellows. She was still asleep, still dreaming, and Gosling could hear faint murmurs coming from her trembling, sometimes flapping lips.

“Of course I want an apple…”

One ear of Gosling’s flickered, the other was buried into the pillow. He blinked a few times, thankful that the room was dark. The dawn would be soon, and the dawns of winter were some of the most glorious of them all. His mouth was dry and he needed a drink. The last precious memories of the dream began to recede into the depths of his waking mind.

“Little Apples and Oranges should not fight,” Celestia murmured in a soft, worried voice. “Brothers and sisters should behave, or else, the wooden spoon it shall be.” Her sleep-spoken words were punctuated with a snort.

Celestia’s mane passed through his body and something crackled just inside of Gosling’s nostril. He didn’t even flinch, knowing that it was harmless. Extracting a foreleg, he ran it down Celestia’s side, slipped it beneath her rumpled wing, and allowed it to come to rest on her stomach.

There was life in there—she had assured him of that—and the very idea of it terrified Gosling, but also intrigued him, it left him filled him with an almost foalish sense of wonder. When Celestia’s mane passed through his skull and wavered through his eyeball, there was a most peculiar tingling sensation that almost felt like a tickle—it was what he imagined flying through the aurora borealis might feel like.

“No, Twilight, world domination is not permissible as a school project, stop that… don’t make me tell you a second time.”

Hearing this made Gosling lift his head and he squirmed between the two solid bodies pressed up against either side of him. He needed to get up, he had to get up, and he didn’t want to squash Celestia, so he chose to clamber over Luna instead. While crawling over, he kissed her on her cheek and thought about saying ‘thank you’ to her for what she had done.

“I am Sleipnir of the Sassgardians,” Celestia moaned, “and I challenge you to a battle of wits.”

That made Gosling pause and he did so beside the bed. Sassgardians?

Author's Note

Again, a callback to The Sun Also Surprises, chapter three.

Expect a lot of callbacks. You're welcome.

Chapter 15

Sprawled out on his back, sunken into a fluffy down-filled comforter, Gosling reached out and touched Celestia, who sat on the bed within foreleg’s reach. She was warm to the touch and she smelled of citrusy, floral soap. His touch made her feathers fluff, he saw her primaries spread just a little, then contract. Seeing this, a worried groan escaped Gosling’s throat, and he wondered what was wrong. She looked happy, clean, and perfect, as one tended to be when coming out of the shower.

Bucking his hips a little, Gosling flopped his body closer to Celestia, then prodded her again with his hoof. The bed creaked from his movement while he wiggled his croup and his withers to get him closer to the big white alicorn sitting on the bed beside him. Sliding his body over the comforter produced a tingle-inducing amount of static electricity in his sweater, and when he touched Celestia again, he gave her quite a zap.

“Hey, hey yous, what’s on your mind, Sunshine?”

“My mane,” Celestia replied in a teasing voice as she turned her head and angled it down to look Gosling in the eye. If the zap bothered her, she showed no sign.

“Oh, a wise guy, I see how this is.” Laying on a comforter as soft as any cloud, Gosling looked up at the alicorn looking down at him. Reaching up with his hoof, he booped her on the nose, and could feel the soft, smooth velvet of her snoot against his frog. His touch lingered, he reveled in the feeling of her breathing against him, and he looked into her eyes, trying to find signs of trouble.

“Oh, but I am wise.” Celestia continued her teasing and avoided Gosling’s question. “I am wise, I am beautiful, and I am—”

“I think yous has a flaw,” Gosling said, teasing back.

“And what terrible, tragic flaw would I have, Prince Peacock?”

“I think yous is allergic to stupid, Sunshine.”

“Oh, really… do you have any evidence to support this claim of yours, Prince Peacock?”

“Yous break out in sarcasm at the slightest exposure.”

“Hah!” Feathers fluffing, Celestia laughed, a real laugh, not just some polite chuckle. “That explains why I am so sarcastic with you!”

Not expecting the sudden reversal, Gosling laughed, but also gave Celestia the stinkeye. He also applied light pressure on her snoot, booping her once more. He felt her lips pucker up and press against his frog, and the light peck tickled him, causing him to shiver. Reaching up with one foreleg, she took his fetlock into her own and gave it a squeeze.

“This is nice,” Celestia whispered, “just being able to talk… to tease… to play around. I have missed this. All of this just highlights how lonely I was, and sometimes it is difficult to think about.” Relaxing her other front leg, she collapsed down upon the bed beside the sprawled out pegasus and rolled up against him.

“You still ain’t told me what’s wrong.” Gosling stared up at the ceiling now, but failed to notice any details. When the fire crackled, popped, or made a sound, his ears twitched. In between the various announcements made by the fire, he listened to the sound of Celestia breathing. Realising that she probably was not going to tell him, he changed the subject.

“That civil war that happened”—Gosling paused for a moment and engaged his mind—“you didn’t get involved. You didn’t pick a side when that happened. Why?”

“A history lesson this early in the morning, Gosling? Really?”

“I has me the hots for my teacher.” Gosling rolled his head around and slid it over the comforter to be closer to Celestia. “I’m also kind of curious. The book I’m reading has a lot to say about both sides, but it has no opinions from you, and I’m about ninety-nine percent certain that you wrote the book.”

“It’s a simple matter of practicality, Gosling,” she whispered, and then she let heave a colossal sigh.

“Yeah, well, I’m stupid, explain it to me.” For a second, he was shocked by the demand in his voice, and he worried if he sounded too aggressive. There was still the lingering fear of upsetting his princess, of offending her, of not offering her the respect she deserved, even when he was on her back, clinging to her, and working to relieve both of their frustrations.

“Gosling, this is a very difficult subject matter—”

“Past the pretty words, I am sure there is a point.” The edge. Gosling had a keen awareness of it and he was skirting it now. The fear increased just a little, as he approached the edge of princess versus pony. Laying on his back, he did not see her biting her lip, or the pain on her face.

“I knew that I would have to live with both the survivors and the victors,” she said, releasing her pent up confession in a low, slow exhale. “If the Separatists won somehow, there would need to be peace afterwards. By not getting directly involved, I left myself on the table as a bargaining chip. It was a calculated move on my part, and I have no doubt that it saved many lives in the long run. I had to let my foals go to war with one another, brother versus brother, sister versus sister, entire families became divided and the entire nation of Equestria tried to tear itself apart.”

“As we say back home, that’s uglified.”

“In the aftermath, when the Separatists signed a surrender, because I didn’t get involved, because I didn’t take sides, because I did not come out and say who was right and who was wrong, it was easier for them to integrate back into society. The Monarchists did not have the smug satisfaction of knowing they were right. They did not have the means to tell the Separatists that they were wrong. Because neither side could claim to know my preferences, both sides were forced to settle their differences. Equestria was sorted out and the wound healed with a surprising quickness, unlike our previous civil war, where I foolishly took a side and caused many lives to end.”

“That’s rough, Sunshine. It’s one of those consequences of immortality that nopony thinks about.” Gosling sighed and snuggled up a little closer to his mate. “The Separatists wanted a separation of faith and governance… I don’t understand the reasoning behind that. They wanted you to continue to be their Sun Goddess, but not their princess.”

“Democracy became a central issue… and before the actual war broke out, I did everything I could to achieve compromise. I tried to set up a system of governance similar to what we have now to satisfy the need for democracy, but the Separatists wanted me stripped of power completely.” After a pause, she added in a low, pained whisper, “I understood their reasoning, to an extent. Not everypony believes in the same way or shares the same faith. There was some bigotry against the First Tribes, for the perceived power they held. The Separatists wanted an entirely secular, democratic government for the sake of fairness for all.”

“I see,” Gosling responded, and he knew there would be a lot of thinking before he could digest all of these words. Understanding this, knowing this, it would make him a better leader, a better ruler. He did worry though, about his roles as a prince and as a Confessor intermingling. There had been problems in the past, which meant that there could be problems in the future. It was something to be mindful of, and Gosling could feel his awareness expanding.

“Later, there will be an oral exam, my ever-so-eager student. Be prepared…”

This was going to be a busy morning. Pacing in what he felt was his retreat lounge, Gosling tried to control his nervousness. He was getting two new assistants, and then he would begin his day, getting a briefing with Blueblood, and then meeting with Purple Party. Each second that passed felt enormous, as though his day was falling behind. There was so much to do and accomplish.

Breakfast sat like lead in his stomach, and his sweater clung to his body, keeping him quite warm, almost comfortable even. Looking about, he decided that he wanted to remodel this lounge, and why not? The other retreat lounges had their own distinctive feel, and Blueblood’s was a glorified liquor cabinet. He wanted this place to be classy, but Gosling wasn’t entirely certain what classy was. Being a poor pegasus from the inner city had some disadvantages. What he called classy, others called ‘tacky.’

Maybe Purple Party would have some advice, or could suggest a decorator.

Hearing hooves, Gosling almost hiccuped as he turned to face the door. It was exciting, this was exciting, and something about having ponies almost his own age to help him out was appealing. They would grow together, gain experience together, and when he was in his prime, so too would they be. It was an ideal arrangement.

Raven entered first, followed by a gangly filly, and bringing up the rear was a colt every bit as gangly as the filly. Gosling blinked, the pair of them could be identical twins, but one was male and the other female. Still, it was shocking to see them. Both had eyes that were the same shade of gold, they had dull brown pelts with dingy grey dapples, coal-dusting, it was called, and their manes were a dark, matte bronze that held little to no shine.

They both looked like consummate professionals already. The filly had her mane pulled back in a tight, severe bun, and the colt had his mane pulled back into a ponytail and wrapped with a black ribbon, a common Grittish style. Neither of them smiled, both wore round, wire-frame glasses, and they moved in a rigid, starchy manner. Raven however, was smiling wide enough for the three of them.

“Beans, Toast, this is Prince Gosling.” Raven bowed her head, causing the twins to do the same, and then she continued, “Prince Gosling, these are your two new assistants, Beans and Toast.”

Grinning, Gosling let his inner scamp out. “How do I tell which is which?”

Raven’s mouth fell open when the colt replied, “Coz I have the beans, I do, two of ‘em.”

Unable to stop himself, Gosling laughed, and was joined by the filly, who had to be Toast by the process of deduction. She had a quiet, reserved laugh, but laugh she did, and she might have laughed harder, had she thought it was appropriate. After recovering from her shock, Raven began to laugh too.

“I think the three of you are going to get along famously,” Raven said, chuckling.

“We’re at your disposal,” Toast said in a voice that held a soft, dignified sounding accent, “and we’ll do anything you ask of us just so long as you don’t separate us. We don’t like being apart, it puts us in a right state, it does. We work together, we stay together, and we give our best effort, you guessed it, when we’re together.”

“We thank you kindly for letting his happen. This is our life’s dream, so it is.” Beans took a cautious step forwards and held his head up high. “We’ve done a lot of work to get here and we wish to prove ourselves.”

“Raven, are they cleared for briefings and stuff?” Gosling asked, curious, and he watched her nod. “So, they can follow me around and do everything I can do, unsupervised?”

“Gosling, darling, these two have been put in charge of supervising you.” Throwing her head back, Raven let out a hearty, domineering laugh and her eyes glittered with mischief.

“Yous is a funny mare, Raven.”

Raven’s laughter came to a sudden, abrupt halt. “I wasn’t kidding, Gosling.” The unicorn mare leveled a stern, commanding gaze on the pegasus prince. “Beans and Toast aren’t normal foals. They’re Jumpers, twins with synchronised magic that can merge their spells with the same ease as breathing. It boosts their power output by a magnitude. They are your last line of defense in times of trouble. They are your bodyguards. Both of them have been given a specific set of instructions to ensure your safety at any cost. Should a crisis arise, you need to listen to them and trust their training. They’ve learned combat magic from Princess Celestia’s Immortal Solars.”

Blinking, Gosling’s head turned and he looked over the twins, both of whom were now grinning in the most terrifying way imaginable.

“I can cause a living creature’s constituent atoms to relax their bonds with one another,” the colt said in a cheerful, dignified voice. “I call it making a problem go away.”

“And my pyrokinetic powers haven’t been successfully measured.” Toast’s head tilted off to one side and her ears angled forwards. “That’s coz they’re not done developing yet. But when I get my knickers into a twist, I can turn steel into a gas. Princess Celestia says I show promise.”

Locking eyes with Raven, Gosling asked, “Is this for real?”

In response, Raven nodded. “After the, uh, previous security incidents, Princess Celestia wants to step up your security.”

“You’re talking about that day that Seville got stabbed.” Gosling shuddered at the memory, then looked at the twins. “Alright yous twos… no calling me prince. I’m just Gosling. We’re gonna work together as a team, as equals. I need to attend to a briefing, and I guess you’ll do whatever it is that you do.”

“Take notes?” Beans asked.

“Yeah. That. Perfect.” Gosling nodded at the door. “Let’s go, it’s gonna be a long day and we’ve got a lot to get done.”

“Have fun, you two!” Raven said to the twins. “And remember, it is perfectly okay to creep out Prince Blueblood! You have permission!”

Author's Note

Next chapter: Blueblood's discomfort.

Chapter 16

Blueblood’s study was almost cramped with ponies when Gosling arrived. There wasn’t much free space left to begin with and the number of ponies present almost made the room feel claustrophobic. Luna was here, drinking coffee from a humungous mug emblazoned with the words, “Blue and #2.” Held in her magic was a pair of knitting needles, some violet yarn, and an amorphous mass. Shining Armor was sitting in a high backed chair, reading the newspaper, Blueblood was standing near the table in the middle of the room, and Seville was beside him, quiet, and calm.

Right away, Blueblood took notice of the twins, and he recoiled in visible horror, his lip curling back from his teeth in a snarl of disgust. Gosling turned to look at his assistants, and found they were paying Blueblood no mind. Looking at Blueblood once more, he could see that his friend and mentor was shaking.

“Ugh, they’re just so… creepy—”

“Blueblood, give it a rest,” Shining Armor muttered from behind his newspaper.

“No! Never! Look at them! They finish each other’s sentences—”

“Blueblood, if you please,” Luna interjected, sounding annoyed.

“If you hurt one, they both feel it—”

“Is that true?” Gosling asked as he turned to look at Beans and Toast.

“Honestly, Blueblood, you need to give it a rest,” Shining Armor said again.

“What if one of them masturbates?” Blueblood asked without shame.

“Blueblood!” Luna, Shining Armor, and Seville all said at once.

“Creepy!” Blueblood bellowed and his eyes rolled back into his head as he shuddered with revulsion.

“No creepier than some middle-aged has-been asking if my sister and I can feel each other have a wank.” Beans leveled a cool stare on Blueblood, who was now squirming about.

“Touché.” Blueblood’s eyes narrowed.

It was Luna who began chortling first, which caused Blueblood’s face to turn purple-red, and then Shining Armor joined in. Somehow, Gosling kept a straight face, but it was difficult and he had to fight to keep his lips from betraying him. Neither Beans nor Toast were laughing, and they hovered near Gosling, glaring at Blueblood in the sort of way that only outraged twelve-year-old professionals could.

“Are we done?” Shining Armor asked. “Can we get to work? Can we behave like responsible adults who run an empire?”

“We can,” Toast replied, “but I has me doubts about this malodorous pervert, so I do.”

After taking a sip of coffee, Luna cleared her throat and then began speaking. “We need to discuss the E.U.P. I.E.A.—”

“Alphabet soup for lunch, Moonshine?” Gosling asked, and he was relieved when he saw Luna smile, rather than respond with anger. “I haven’t read anything about this yet, so I’m lost. I know what the first part means though, because I paid attention on orientation day when I joined the guard.”

“Nothing has been written about it yet.” Shining Armor folded up his newspaper and put it down on top of a tall stack of books beside the chair. There was a teacup also on the stack of books, with dried out rings inside of it.

Clearing her throat once more, and perhaps sounding a bit impatient, Luna proceeded to keep going. “The I.E.A. is the Individuals with Exceptional Abilities act—”

Gosling said nothing about calling it the ‘I.W.E.A.A.’

“—and it is a proposal that would allow the swearing in of exceptional individuals as regional constables, granting them powers of detainment and arrest—”

“Waitaminute,” Gosling yammered out, “you’re talking about… a… a… registration of supers act, like in the comic books!” He turned to look at Shining Armor and continued, “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Shining Armor replied.

“You expect the public to take this comic book stuff seriously?” Gosling demanded, and he saw Seville glance over at Shining Armor.

“Yes.” Shining Armor sounded confident and collected. “We have ponies getting cutie marks now for being superheroes. Individuals with exceptional abilities are becoming more and more commonplace, and we already have established heroes who should be recognised as heroes, and not vigilantes.”

“Like, uh, whatshisface, Mister Teapot, when he called himself ‘Captain Equestria’ and he put that bag over his head and proceeded to open up a can of whoopass on the streets of Manehattan, beating ponies with that shield of his.” Gosling’s head bobbed up and down in excitement. “It ain’t right that he was sued for that.”

“Actually, the specific incident that is being cited happened in the city of Fillydelphia,” Seville said as he gestured at some thick folders on the table. “An eyewitness gave specific, explicit testimony about a chocolate brown pony who stepped out of the elevator wearing a hockey mask while a robbery was taking place in a department store. He announced himself by saying, “Ding, first floor, housewares and homemaking,” then began beating said robbers bloody with a collection of cast iron cookware, spatulas, spoons, forks, and knives. The witness also said that it rained toasters. One victim was beaten with a soup can in a sock.”

Beans grinned. “I’m keen on that idea.”

Seville continued, “After the savage beating took place, one of the robbers had to be hospitalised, and a spoon had to be removed from a rather… unfortunate location—”

“How does a spoon become lodged up one’s nose, anyhow?” Luna asked, interjecting her question into Seville’s dialogue. “We are confounded by such savagery, confounded… but intrigued.”

“Right now, there is a legal inquiry and the judge is seeking the help of the Wardens to determine the identity of the chocolate brown pony wearing a hockey mask. Look, everypony in this room knows who it is.” Seville looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each pony present in turn.

“No doubt, Mister Teapot gave a thorough warning to the robbers that by the end of the encounter, somepony was getting something shoved up some orifice. He’s very polite about that, and ponies know exactly what they’re in for when they pick a fight with him.” Blueblood closed his eyes and shuddered. “Savage!” Opening his eyes, he gave himself a shake. “Who in their right mind picks a fight with a pony wearing a hockey mask? Really… we need better IQ testing in public schools.”

“Indeed,” Luna agreed in a dry voice.

“Are we really going to do this?” Gosling asked, having some trouble believing this was real. The mere fact that ponies were getting cutie marks to be superheroes was troubling, because that meant that other ponies might be getting cutie marks to become supervillains. Not every pony fainted or fled from danger, certain deranged ponies ran right for danger, and Gosling knew quite a few of them. He was one of them, in fact, and he had led what many called a suicidal charge in the defense of Ponyville.

“I think that it might be wise to test the waters,” Shining Armor replied, and he began rubbing his chin. “Our big cities are unsafe. Dangerous. Crime is becoming a major problem, and our available police just can’t keep up with everything. Not every pony gets a cutie mark that is suitable for police work, and departments are hesitant to hire those with marks they feel aren’t job related.”

Nodding, Blueblood remarked, “And that’s a real problem, the perception that cutie marks make you capable. A lot of ponies cannot get past that notion.”

“Look, I know it seems far fetched,” Shining Armor began, “and I know that a lot of ponies will talk about how this is too much like comic books, but it is a valid idea. We have ponies with amazing abilities, ponies like Rainbow Dash, who I know for certain is dressing up like the Mare-Do-Well and taking trips to our major cities. The police departments are finding thugs trussed and tied up in front of the police stations, and eyewitnesses have seen a blindingly fast flying hero that matches the description of the Mare-Do-Well. The captured criminals don’t want to say who it was that beat the stuffing out of them. Nopony wants to admit that some little mare beat their ass.”

In Gosling’s ears, the only sound was that of a pen scratching over paper, and he realised that one of his assistants was, in fact, taking notes so that he could go over them later. He looked around the room, uncertain, trying to read the faces of those present. Manehattan was his home, and he knew how rough it was. The crime families were a fixture in the city and they kept the crime under control. They ran the city. Removing them caused anarchy and chaos, as evidenced by past events in the disturbing history of the city of Manehattan.

Eyes narrowed, he studied Luna’s face, trying to read it, trying to see past the stern blue mask. Shifting his weight from his left side to his right side, he became aware of the fact that the silence had grown long. His gaze shifted, going from Luna to Seville, and he hoped for some kind of guidance, but none seemed forthcoming.

“So,” Gosling began, breaking the silence that had consumed the room. “I take it that, as individuals of exceptional ability, as this comes from the various articles of militia, where it says that we can call upon individuals of exceptional ability during times of crisis and conscript them into the E.U.P. Only I take it we’re making this a voluntary conscription into active service?”

“That’s the idea,” Blueblood said, and then his cheeks puffed out as he huffed out the remaining air in his lungs through puckered lips. “After a brief training session, we enable them as regional constables, grant them the power to detain and arrest, making what they do legal.”

“Of course, some of them will have to change their methods,” Shining Armor said. “There is a masked mare in Baltimare called the Schoolmarm. She beats local thugs into submission, lectures them, and paddles their backsides raw with a yardstick. We’ll need to discourage this sort of behaviour, even if some ponies might deserve it.”

“Like Blueblood here,” Toast quipped in a dry deadpan.

This made Blueblood scowl, but nothing was said, though there were some snickers brought about by the witty barb.

“Look, we have criminals with cutie marks that aid them in their deviant lifestyle of crime.” While speaking, Gosling thought of Flam Apple, a most peculiar case presented by Twilight Sparkle. “If we’re getting ponies with cutie marks that compel them to be superheroes, it stands to reason that we’re going to get some real bad customers that are going to be supervillains. What do we do about those? How do we keep common ponies safe when we have individuals of exceptional abilities working on both sides? I’m not against this idea, but I want assurances that common ponies will somehow be protected with all of this going on.”

“How many of those common ponies will still be hurt when there are no heroes to protect them at all?” Shining Armor asked. “All it takes for evil to flourish is for ponies like Tarnished Teapot to sit back and do nothing, or worse, be prevented from doing what they do best.”

“Not everypony is as careful or mindful as Mister Teapot.” Luna glanced over at Shining Armor for a moment, then turned to look at Gosling. “After a battle, he begins patching up the injured, friend and foe alike, doing what he can to preserve life.”

“A redeeming character quality, to be sure.” Blueblood’s eyes darted to where the twins stood behind Gosling, he shuddered once, and then made himself look at Luna. “I’m with Gosling on this issue. I’ll support it, but only with a well laid plan and assurances that the common ponies will be protected somehow. Even if it means that the Crown assists them. If they become injured or otherwise crippled during a fracas, we owe it to them to have them looked after, visited by a healer, or otherwise compensated if they can’t take legal action to help them achieve fair compensation.”

“If the four of us can come to a consensus, all that will remain is taking it to Celestia to get her approval.” Luna’s face was one of near-maternal worry. “I agree, before we commit to anything, we need a means to make certain that common ponies are protected. If we protect our heroes from legal action, then we must give bystanders a means to achieve compensation for injuries or property damage.”

“Yeah, that too.” Gosling found himself nodding. “This will be an expensive Crown-funded program, no doubt. Can we sustain this with our current state of affairs?”

“I don’t know,” Blueblood replied, being honest. “Everything is still unsettled after the Mister Mariner incident. Even with the price freeze Celestia enacted on everything in the realm for the next year, funding is in short supply.”

“The price freeze is mighty unpopular,” Seville muttered. “Ponies are idiots.”

“Seville, they’re allowed to be idiots.” Shining Armor’s words were soft spoken, but also firm. “And we’re allowed to protect them from their idiocy, even while they bleat and protest about it. Some of the smarter ponies even make good points about the price freeze, but all of those have to do with short term gain versus long term stability.”

“We’re off topic.” Jaw muscles clenching, Luna raised her head high. “So, do we begin working towards the creation of the I.E.A. or not?”

“Yes,” Gosling said, without hesitation. “We should focus our attention and begin planning.”

Blueblood nodded. “I think so, yes.”

“This is my baby, so you know how I feel.” Shining Armor trembled in his seat, unable to contain his excitement. “A lot of good can be done with this, if we tread carefully.”

“Then we are in agreement.” Raising her coffee cup, Luna smiled. “Let wisdom and caution guide our way forward…”

Author's Note

Eventually, from this meeting, a group of heroes would come about...

Chapter 17

Gosling was no stranger to hustle, but at the moment he was taking it to a ridiculous level so he could meet with Purple Party on schedule. No doubt, there was a lot to do and very little time to do it, because that was the natural order of things. Beans and Toast galloped along behind him, keeping up with his swift pace with no trouble at all on their part.

“Cor, that Prince Blueblood is a tosser,” Toast muttered while her hooves clattered against the marble tile floor. “What a right git.”

Unable to help himself, Gosling began to chortle. The twins belonged here in this place, and in time, he could see them becoming part of the family. The great big dysfunctional family that lived within this cuckoo’s nest known as Canterlot Castle. As the trio went in one direction, plenty of ponies were going in the other direction, and some of the passing guards saluted.

“I understand that you have a lot more royalty back home,” Gosling said to the twins, making an attempt to be conversational. “With no alicorns, there are only tribal monarchs.”

“Right,” was Beans’ soft reply. “All we do is bicker though, there is nothing but fighting and nothing ever gets done. None of the various royal families ever agree on anything and more and more they are relying on parliament to run the country.”

“Parliament is no better.” Toast’s voice was firm to the point of being a bit abrasive. “The earth pony parliament doesn’t want to talk to the pegasus pony parliament because they feel the pegasus ponies have been a bit too lax with the weather, and the pegasus ponies feel that the earth ponies are a bit too lazy and aren’t farming like they used to. Meanwhile, the unicorn parliament has turned our markets into an anarcho-capitalist nightmare and I fear we’re heading towards our own Mister Mariner incident back home on the isles.”

“Yeah.” Beans’ head bobbed up and down as he kept pace beside his sister. “You royals know how to get things done, which is why we want to stay here and become citizens.”

“You mean you don’t want to go home and fix everything that is wrong?” Gosling asked.

Toast snorted. “That’s an impossible task. I want results from my hard work. I’d rather stay here and work with royals that actually get things done. Prince Blueblood, he might be a tosser, but he’s a hard working tosser, and I’d be just as proud to be his assistant as I am proud to be yours.”

Thinking of everything that had been said, Gosling didn’t know how to respond.

Purple Party appeared to be a nervous wreck, and Gosling could tell after just one glance that the high strung unicorn hadn’t slept well. Guards shuffled around the room while various members of the castle staff entered and exited. In the center of the room was a massive map of Canterlot Castle, a magical map that displayed all manner of relevant data about all sorts of things.

There was a stopped up toilet in the barracks, for example, and a leaking shower in the north wing’s guest quarters. The pilot light on the trash incinerator that serviced the south wing had gone out. But none of this was as impressive as the sheer scope, scale, and size of the map, which left Gosling flabbergasted every time he viewed it.

“Sir,” Mister Party said with his ears held low, “there is a lot of work to do and we are a few weeks behind schedule. The castle needs to be decorated for the holidays. Some of the work has been done, but we are woefully behind schedule due to quite a number of circumstances beyond our control.”

“What’s the problem?” Gosling asked.

“Why, everything,” Mister Party replied.

“Well, start somewhere.” Gosling glanced at the map, a bell rang and there was another stopped up toilet, this time close to Blueblood’s study.

“Well, to begin with, there is the issue of actually decorating the castle, Prince Gosling. That’s an impossible task unto itself—”

“Over a thousand rooms,” Beans said in a soft voice, “sometimes even more, depending upon the current configuration. Over a hundred miles of hallway, but this can jump to well over two-hundred and fifty miles of hallway, again, given the configuration.”

Hearing this, Gosling let out a low whistle.

“Yes.” Mister Party gave Beans an appreciative nod. “We lack decorations—”

“Don’t they store decorations in some closet somewhere?” Gosling asked.

“Well, a few special trinkets,” Mister Party replied. “Most of the decorations are auctioned off after the holiday and the funds collected go to various charitable agencies, and all of the usual widows and orphans. Because of the budget crisis, we haven’t purchased much in the way of holiday decorations. I’ve had ponies hard at work trying to figure out how to decorate the castle with our available funds.”

“And no doubt, my unexpected request for the Winter Moon Festival messed things up.” Gosling began gnawing on his lip and he stared at the ginormous castle map.

“Sir, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Mister Party said in hushed tones.

While staring at the map, Gosling began to wonder, how was the Goose going to save Hearth’s Warming? The castle needed decoration, but funds were limited. They also needed more ponypower, so more work could be done in less time. It occurred to Gosling that he was going to need a holiday miracle to make this happen, and to get the Winter Moon Festival kicked off.

“Hang on, I’m either getting an idea or those scrambled eggs at breakfast are giving me gas!” Gosling blurted out, and it was Beans that began chortling while his sister gave him the sort of dirty look that only a disgusted sibling could give. “When I was a foal, my Ma and I made our own Hearth’s Warming decorations.”

“Sir, the castle staff are in short supply and time is short.” Purple Party narrowed his eyes and gave Gosling a calm, collected stare.

“Ah, but we have an untapped resource,” Gosling said to Purple Party with a crazed glaze in his eye. Reaching out one hoof, Gosling tapped the school wing of the castle, which made the map flicker. “We have all these foals, all these powerful little unicorns, and some of them are bound to be artsy-fartsy types. If we supply them with wagon loads of dried elbow macaroni and a ton of glitter, we’ll have our decorations. Even better, we’ll turn the little horn heads loose upon the castle so they can help the castle staff. We’ll sell the idea to Celestia as a hooves on experience.”

“Oh… oh my…” Mister Party gasped.

“And we’ll conscript the home-ec students as well, and those who take cooking classes, we’ll wrangle up anypony that might be remotely useful to our cause, and we’ll put them to work. Decorating, cooking, and preparing.” Gosling pulled his hoof away from the map and focused his gaze on Purple Party. “Now, I want to make it clear that I am in charge.”

“Sir, of course.” Mister Party nodded.

“So, if I do something crazy, I want to offer you some assurances that any consequences will fall upon my neck, and not yours. I’m not going to have you suffer for my goofball ideas.”

“Sir, goofball ideas?” Mister Party’s entire body quivered with dread, and the corner of his left eye had a frightful twitch to it.

“Hundreds of miles of hallway.” Gosling shook his head and let out a long, shrill whistle. “How much time is wasted just getting from one place to another?”

“Well, some of the unicorns on staff know how to wink to get from one place to another,” Mister Party replied.

“Yeah, but all these students and these other staff members, they’ll need a way to get from here to there as fast as possible.” Gosling returned his attention to the map and began to study it in earnest. “I think chariots will work—”

“Sir! Chariots?” Purple Party appeared as though he might faint. “Chariots… in… the… hallways?”

“Battlefield tactics.” Gosling’s eyes roamed over the map, looking for a strategic central staging area where he could send his conscripts out to do battle. “We need to drop our troops off, fresh and ready to go, with no fatigue from long marches.” Staring at the map, a plan began to form, and Gosling nodded his head.

“Oh… my…” With a loud gasp, Purple Party tumbled to the floor, his delicate sensibilities unable to take another word of Gosling’s plan, because he fainted.

Right away, Toast went to his side and began to look after him. Reaching into her saddlebag, she pulled out a towel—a big fluffy looking towel—rolled it up, and placed it beneath Mister Party’s head. Lifting her head, she gave Gosling a concerned look with one raised eyebrow.

“He’s out cold,” she reported, “and he clonked his gobbletyknock on the floor. He’s going to have quite a lump.” While Toast was speaking, several concerned maids came over to check on Mister Party. “When he recovers, he’s going to need a cuppa, so I reckon.”

“Right.” Gosling huffed the word out, then took a deep breath. “Let’s go and get Mister Party sorted out…”

Princess Cadance was giving him a strange look and Gosling wished that she wasn’t. He didn’t know why he was the target of the strange look, and to be honest, he didn’t want to know. Exhausted, Gosling just wanted a bit of a breather before lunch. Flurry Heart was yammering away to his mother, Sleet, and Moon Rose was having a quiet moment with her parents. Luna, awake during the day, was knitting in total silence, having said nothing to anypony in the room.

With a huff, he collapsed down upon a fainting couch and rested his head on the single arm. He had been all over the castle this morning, running to and fro. Without his wings, he was forced to walk everywhere he went, having to take the long way like some ground-bound schmuck. At least he was warm, and he was thankful for his soft, snuggly sweater.

It appeared as though Luna was hard at work on the second. Her tongue was sticking out and a look of supreme concentration could be seen on her face. Her ears angled out over her eyes, rigid, together, and her nostrils quivered with each click of her long, pointed needles. To say that Luna was focused would be an understatement.

Cadance’s eyes glanced over at Luna for a second, then shifted back to Gosling.

Closing his eyes, Gosling did his best to relax a little, knowing how important it was. In silence, he focused on his breathing, and the rigidness of his ears relaxed a little. Everything was fine. Other than a huge lump on his head, Purple Party was fine and was expected to recover. Beans and Toast were excellent helpers, and they were doing fine. He wasn’t in hot water with either of his wives, and that was fine.

“Nana Sleet, will Luna have foals?”

Suddenly, things were not fine, and Gosling opened his eyes as every muscle in his body tensed. The sound of knitting needles clacking together had ceased. Moon Rose’s soft whispers to her parents had gone silent. Cadance was snickering, and Gosling’s ears bounced with each one of her giggles. He heard his mother’s sharp inhale and felt the need to make his own.

“Where they come from?” Flurry asked before Sleet could answer the first question.

Panic was plain to see on Sleet’s face while she gave Cadance a pleading stare, but the cotton candy alicorn was too busy tittering to do anything to help. Gosling lifted his head off the arm of the fainting couch and looked at his mother. If Cadance didn’t step in, Sleet would spill the beans for certain, Gosling was positive of this.

Hazy Breeze whispered a few muffled words to Soprano Summers, but Gosling couldn’t make them out. His mother was taking deep, slow breaths, and Flurry stared at Sleet with wide, expectant eyes. Cadance meanwhile, had done nothing but giggle, and Luna had somehow resumed her knitting. No doubt, there would be a surplus of messed up stitches from this interruption.

“Flurry,” Sleet began, and then the stark white pegasus licked her lips with her vivid orange tongue.

“Foals are wrestling trophies,” Gosling blurted out. “When ponies who love each other very much have themselves a good wrestle, they both get a trophy they get to share.”

“How?” Flurry asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

“Uh…” Gosling sucked in a deep breath, and demanded that his brain keep going.

“Yes,” Cadance murmured, and a look of almost sadistic glee could be seen on her face. “How?”

“Special magic!” Gosling cried out and his voice cracked. “This is a special kind of wrestling that happens between ponies that love one another. Once they have a good wrestle, it sets off a special magic signal that goes and… uh… um…”

“Yes?” Cadance’s head tilted off to one side and the corners of her mouth almost reached to her ears.

“There’s a foal factory in Cloudsdale.” Gosling lifted his head a little more so he could nod. “Once they get a special magic signal, they make a brand new foal in the factory from leftover rainbows and stuff. It, uh, takes a while, but then the pegasus ponies from the postal department deliver the new wrestling trophy to the anxious parents.”

“Oh, neat.” Flurry blinked once and her ears waggled. “When’s lunch?”

Gasping, Gosling fell back, collapsing back down upon the fainting couch and going limp. Cadance’s laughter was almost hysterical, and he could hear his mother laughing too. The both of them were laughing fit to split and Gosling could feel himself sweating. Flurry’s innocence lived to see another day, thanks to his quick thinking.

Author's Note

The marble floors!

Chapter 18

There were a lot of ponies gathered around the table for lunch. It was an intimate setting, with quite a number of ponies and a rather small, short table. Well, the table was enormous, by Gosling’s standards, but there were larger tables in the castle, with more room to spread out. Everypony seemed to be present for lunch.

For the most part, everypony seemed happy, but there was always that one pony. Luna seemed a little sleepy—it was the daytime so that was expected—but she also seemed a little withdrawn and out of sorts. The change had been somewhat sudden, happening at some point between sitting together in the lounge and sitting down at the table.

For whatever reason, Gosling took exception to Luna becoming the Queen of the Mopes. A little ways down the table, Seville was having an animated conversation with Beans and Toast. Celestia and Raven were chatting amicably with one another, with much enthusiasm and head bobbing. Blueblood sat beside Raven, looking miffed that he wasn’t at the center of her attention, and Gosling could not help but wonder if she was punishing him, even now. The hurting never stopped.

Shining Armor and Hotspur were discussing something boring and exceedingly bland, something only the two of them would find interesting. Cadance was looking after Flurry, who kept blowing spit bubbles. Moon Rose was giggling at Flurry’s antics, while her parents, Hazy and Soprano held hooves together down at their end of the table. Sleet was doing her best not to laugh while Flurry exasperated her mother’s patience.

Gosling realised that nopony was paying any attention to Luna, and as usual, she was alone in a crowd. This would not do. He began to peruse all of his usual options, teasing her, distracting her, trying to strike up a conversation, and nothing in particular stood out. Luna was sighing while staring down at her empty plate, as lunch had not been served yet.

Luna had the blues and something had to be done. Gosling chose the deadliest weapon in his arsenal, song. He began to dig through the dusty corners of his mind, looking for something to serenade Luna with, and then his brain, in a helpful mood for once, offered up something beautiful. He wasn’t sure if he could remember all of the words, and he feared he would have to wing it.

It was a good thing he was a pegasus.

Leaning over, Gosling slipped a foreleg around Luna’s neck, which she resisted, and he drew in a deep breath. With half-closed eyes, he gave Luna his most intense look of affection, and in his most practiced baritone, he began to croon:

“Dark moon, way up high up in the sky… oh, tell me why, oh tell me why you've lost your splendour? Dark moon, what is the cause your light withdraws… is it because, is it because I've lost my love?”

“Gosling, cease thy wailing—”

With every eye present now focused on him, and the room having gone silent, Gosling, now sweating beneath his sweater, somehow continued, “Mortals have dreams of love's perfect schemes… but they don't realise, their love can sometimes bring—”

He sucked in a quick deep breath before he kept going: “A dark moon, way up high up in the sky… oh, tell me why, oh tell me why you've lost your splendour? Dark moon, what is the cause your light withdraws… is it because, is it because I've lost my love?”

Luna was trembling now and her eyes were glassy while she stared at the serenading pegasus that had one foreleg wrapped around her slender, graceful neck. She was frozen in place and her ears twitched with Gosling’s every crooned syllable. Flurry’s spit bubble popped, soaking her muzzle in drool, and the little pink filly blinked a few times in rapid succession, taken by the sound of Gosling’s voice.

“Mortals have dreams of love's perfect schemes,” Gosling sang, pouring his heart out to Luna… “But they don't realise, their love can sometimes bring a—”

“Dark moon,” Luna’s voice joined with Gosling, and her ears fell flat against her head. Together, they sang in delightful harmony, “Way up high up in the sky… oh, tell me why, oh tell me why you've lost your splendour? Dark moon, what is the cause your light withdraws… is it because, is it because I've lost my love?”

Somepony whistled—Gosling was not sure who—and then the sounds of applause became a roar around the table. He hardly noticed though, as he was looking into Luna’s eyes, searching for her vulnerable soul. There were all sorts of things he could do at this moment, brash things, romantic things, but everything he thought of felt meaningless, so he continued his soul-gazing into Luna’s eyes, his snoot mere inches from Luna’s own.

He failed to even notice that lunch was being served, so lost was he in Luna’s eyes.

With her napkin, Celestia wiped away any traces of soup left on her muzzle. Lunch had been a simple affair, thick, hearty tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches—an ideal meal for winter, she felt. Eyes darting to and fro, Celestia pulled away her napkin and wolfed down another sandwich, lamenting that she had no tomato soup to dunk it in. Still, it was buttery, crunchy, and cheesy, a wonderful assault upon the senses. Up came the napkin again and with a few dainty dabs, she wiped away the evidence of her gluttony.

There were still some sandwiches left. If they were taken back to the kitchen, they would be gone forever. Alas, the soup tureen was empty. The scent of basil was still strong in Celestia’s nostrils, lingering from her lunch, triggering her appetites, both physical and sexual. Sex with a full belly was possible, but it had to be slow, lazy lovemaking, not so much a screw but a sort of stab-happy cuddle-snuggle.

Long, long ago, when Celestia was younger, ponies called it flapjacking, because laying around in a lazy pile atop one another was bound to create a sticky mess. Ah, times were different then and she missed the parlance of those olden days. Spreading butter over toast had a very different meaning, way back in the day.

Looking about the table, Celestia realised just how many ponies were present—there were quite a few gathered around to share a meal together. She had trouble remembering when there had been this many ponies around a table, together, as friends… as family. Things had changed, and Celestia turned her head to look at the reason why.

Gosling.

He was oblivious to her gaze and speaking to Raven. Smiling, enthusiastic, Gosling was the sort of irrepressible outgoing pony that Celestia prized. Cultured, diplomatic, but not stuffy or snobby. Her eyes darted around the table and she realised that Gosling had made friends, and friendship was easy for him. He didn’t have to struggle to make friends, as had her once-student Twilight Sparkle. For Gosling, it was an effortless act. You put him in a room and in seconds, he was chatting somepony up, or charming somepony, or showing off his wings, as pegasus ponies tended to do.

There was a terrible well-kept secret that Celestia had, and that was the fact that she was an introvert. Oh, she hid it well, she had to hide it, being a princess. She was an introvert that had to strain and struggle to pass herself off as an extrovert. Even while freaking out from being surrounded and overwhelmed, offering a serene smile while screaming on the inside, she had to deal with immense crowds, throngs, and multitudes.

But now, Gosling’s friends were her friends, and somehow, that made it easier, though she could not say why. There was a growing social circle around Gosling that Celestia did not feel pressured from having to be with. They were there. Gosling’s friends became her friends by extension. There was no sweating and fretting about breaking the ice, or thinking of something witty to say, or all of the second-guessing she suffered when trying to get to know somepony.

No.

None of that was a problem now. Gosling did all of the work, all of the heavy lifting, so to speak, and all she had to do was have the quality time that she craved, that she longed for. There was no need to navigate the social minefield, or try to win somepony over. It was the ideal situation for any introvert; a ready made social milieu with no pressure or performance anxiety.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Celestia began to understand why certain ponies that she knew kept extroverted friends, or mates. She thought of Octavia and Vinyl Scratch—two polar opposites, or so it would seem, but now she understood the practical aspects of their relationship. Maud Pie as well, as Tarnish was the outgoing one, though Celestia was not entirely certain that he was an extrovert.

Luna flip-flopped back and forth due to her bipolar disorder, going from extrovert to introvert, waxing and waning, always going back and forth. She was a difficult pony to be friends with, an even more difficult pony to be sisters with, and Celestia wondered what Gosling thought of her as a wife. The marriage had not been consummated and there was a great deal of worry on Celestia’s part about their relationship.

“You know, Gosling,” Celestia said to the pegasus beside her. “It occurs to me that you’ve made a great many friends. Our table is crowded with guests. It pleases me.” When he blinked, she knew that he was engaging his quick mind, trying to discern what was going on. She adored his quizzical expression, and his quick wit, these were parts of him that she found most endearing.

“I’ve actually been learning a lot about friendship,” Gosling replied. “Twilight and I send letters back and forth. She helps me with some of my realisations and she’s broadened my horizons.”

“How so?” Celestia asked.

“Well,” Gosling began, “there is a great big wide world of ponies out there, and not all of them are your own age.” Lifting a foreleg, he gestured in the direction of Moon Rose and Flurry Heart. “I like them both. They’re my friends. My life has been enriched by having known them.”

“I see.” Celestia beamed.

“And then there are somewhat older ponies,” Gosling continued, “like Blueblood and Raven. No offense—”

“None taken,” Raven interjected, and she began to titter.

“Now, I’m still a stupid teenager, and most ponies my age wouldn’t give ponies like Blueblood or Raven a second thought. They’re a little older, and ponies my age, well, we tend to think that adults like those two aren’t so awesome, if you know what I mean.”

“Do go on,” Celestia said to Gosling, trying to encourage him. She was enjoying his dialogue, his wit, and embrace of friendship.

Licking his lips, Gosling smiled. “And then there are the elderly ponies. They get real lonesome and I’ve discovered that they have all of the same needs, wants, and desires that somepony my age has.”

It occurred to Celestia that Gosling was staring right at her while he spoke.

“Some of those elderly ponies—”

“Gosling!” Sleet shrieked in a shrill voice.

“—are stupefyingly hot—”

Oh, Celestia thought to herself, my little pegasus is brazen, I’ll give him that.

“—and they need loving too.” Gosling paused while the ponies around him laughed, and took a deep breath so that he might continue.

For a second, Celestia had a dire worry for her sister, Luna, and she feared her sibling would pull an eye muscle from all that eye rolling. Luna was in peril, grave danger, and Gosling showed no signs of stopping. He was on a roll and Luna was already straining her ocular muscles. Ocular sprains were no laughing matter. As a filly, Twilight had somehow done this to herself and she had been bedridden for two weeks, stricken with eyes that focused in two different directions. And then there was that one mother pegasus in Ponyville that had rolled her eyes one time too many times. It was a risk, a danger, and Celestia wondered if perhaps a public service announcement might be in order. As a mother to her nation, Celestia had an obligation to warn her foals, ‘You’ll roll your eye out.’

“Plus, you have to admit, I found me some good looking old ladies to hang out with.” Gosling grinned, wide and reckless, and his ears twitched like little fuzzy metronomes each time Cadance snorted. “All I had to do was lead them out of the pasture and clean out the cobwebs.”

Unable to stop herself, Celestia too, snorted. Led out of the pasture? Had she put herself out to pasture? Perhaps she had. She was going to have to punish him for the cobweb remark though, and maybe, just maybe, she might have to turn to Raven for a few pointers. It sounded as though Cadance was about to die, and little Flurry was looking up at her mother in alarm.

Just as Celestia was about to say something witty, bringing to bear her centuries of experience and intellect, Luna shouted, “Mine eye!” And then she clutched her face with both front hooves while letting out a pitiful whimper.

It was just as Celestia had feared, and the worst had come to pass.

Author's Note

It hurt me to write this chapter. I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel.

Chapter 19

What marvellous places she must go, Gosling thought as he watched his magnificent white mare recline in graceful repose. Celestia had taken a different form of flight, leaving her physical body somewhat vulnerable. Oh, not that she was vulnerable, being an immortal alicorn, but she could still have things like mustaches drawn on her muzzle and what not.

Something Gosling would never do, as the trust he had established was far too important to squander. He understood the importance of these trips, her flights into the astral plane. Sometimes, they lasted for mere seconds; other times, hours. Time flowed in odd ways, obeying different rules in other realms. In these helpless, defenseless states, she was at her most beautiful, and her majesty was a wonder to behold. Gosling allowed his eyes to linger upon every inch that he could view, and when her eyelids fluttered, his ears perked with interest.

The room was warm, but not from the inferno contained in the fireplace, no. In her current state, Celestia radiated heat. It came off of her in waves, and being near her was like standing in the summer sun. Sometimes, like now, her body was surrounded in a nimbus of fire that did not burn; at other times, she looked as though she was asleep, with no outward visible signs of her departure. Gosling very much wanted to rub his body up against hers and revel in her toasty warmth.

“Grrrr, be a good puppy,” Celestia murmured, her fuzzy lips brushing against one another.

One of Gosling’s eyebrows raised in a classical quizzical expression. He wasn’t aware of who or what Grrrr was, but Celestia growled his name from time to time. Whatever it was, it was playful. After a moment, Gosling turned away from Celestia and focused his attention upon her golden shoes, her crown, and her regalia, all of which had been tossed into a careless pile upon the floor.

It was a well-acknowledged fact of life that Gosling was still young enough to be more curious than was wise, as most colts tended to be. By pegasus standards, he was an annoyance, or if one wanted to be flattering, adventurous. By earth pony standards, he was a hazard, and by unicorn standards, he was almost scholarly. There were things that Gosling just had to know.

Like… what it felt like to be a princess. He had never managed to work up the nerve before, but perhaps… perhaps today might be the day. Gosling was almost certain that Celestia would not punish him—she might even laugh at him. Still, her symbols of office demanded respect, and he was torn between doing what was right, and what was fun.

His Sunshine had long, slender legs, but she had big hooves, and she was sensitive about that. He knew that she fretted sometimes about her physical appearance, bemoaning her big hooves and her dock, which she felt was far too chubby. Her dock was chubby, but he liked it that way, it was far more pleasant to nibble on, to pinch with his teeth, or tease with his lips. Really, what stallion wanted to sample a bony dock? It was like eating a carrot gone wooden. Mares worried too much about their docks, doing silly, sexy tail-lift exercises in the mirror to keep them presentable.

Overcome with temptation, Gosling decided that today would in fact, be the day. With a faint, worried whinny, he went over to where Celestia discarded her stuff and sat down. It took a little effort—he had to use his fetlocks—but he managed to slip the regalia over his head and slide it down his neck. Next, he put the crown on his head, adjusted it a bit, and then stood up. Once on all fours, he stepped into each one of the shoes, which clicked into place with clever latches.

“Oh, hey, I’m a pretty birdy,” Gosling said to himself while he studied his own hooves, now shod in gold. “Yeah… who’s a pretty birdy? That’s right… me. Look at that, I’m a pretty birdy.”

He took a few steps, then walked around in a circle, prancing with high parade steps. Full of himself, he snorted a few times, shook his head, wickered, and then continued to strut his stuff. As he turned around, he noticed for the first time that there were two wide-eyed two alicorn princesses standing in the doorway—one pink, one blue—staring at him. This was not the worst thing he had been caught doing, but it sure felt like it.

“Hey, ladies, how’s yous doing?” he asked, because, what else could he do at this point? They had walked in, caught him in the act, and he was busted.

“You look ridiculous,” Luna deadpanned, and she gave Gosling the sort of stare that only a princess could.

Cadance nodded as her cheeks bulged in an odd way.

“Gold is a terrible colour on you. It makes you look jaundiced. Wear silver instead.” Luna blinked once, breaking the floodgates, and then blinked many times more. Gosling had frozen mid-step, in pose.

“We came to help my aunt.” Cadance’s voice was squeaky, and her sides were heaving like bellows, causing her wings to hitch against the graceful curve of her ribs.

“Jealousy does not become you.” Gosling played it straight as his voice somehow remained in perfect, commanding pitch.

“Jealousy?” Cadance blinked and her sides heaved even harder. She was almost wheezing now, and she was engaged in a mighty struggle to keep a straight face. “Jealousy, you say!”

“Yeah, I make this look good, and you know it. Recognise, Pink-Pint-Mama.”

It was at this point that Cadance lost it, and now the battle was no longer containment, but volume, and she was forced to keep her giggles down to a dull roar. Luna somehow remained straight-faced, but she was showing signs of cracking. With the corners of her mouth trembling, Luna strode forward, took off her crown, and plunked it down on top of Gosling’s noggin, making him twice the princess that she and her sister ever were.

“Keep that safe whilst We join Our sister.” Still somehow straight-faced, Luna kicked off her shoes and pulled off her regalia. With a flash of magic, the regalia was teleported around Gosling’s neck; Luna then spent a few seconds adjusting it to hang over her sister’s regalia, all while Cadance was consumed by the giggles.

Almost as an afterthought, Luna leaned in and kissed Gosling on the cheek, then whispered, “You are a ridiculous creature. What are We to do with you?”

“The only thing that can be done with me,” Gosling responded. “Acknowledge that I’m pretty—”

Cadance had to get the last word, and so she did. “Pretty ridiculous. Recognised.”

Now late afternoon, Gosling sat in the press room, leaning back in a chair while staring up at the ceiling. Sitting on either side of him, Beans and Toast were waiting to be useful, with Seville facing the trio from across the messy, paper-strewn table. Blueblood and Shining Armor were also present, with Blueblood pacing and Shining Armor sitting, not at the table, but rather in a high backed chair in the corner.

“There’s been more crimes against the changelings,” Blueblood said in a low voice, and Shining Armor squirmed in his chair. “Like it or not, the changelings are Equestrian citizens now, and many have become military assets. We owe it to them to treat them with dignity and respect.”

Gosling did not respond, but continued staring up at the ceiling, not having an answer. He thought about Chrysalis and the extreme protection she required. She wasn’t so much a changeling queen as she was a living, moving batch of magical ingredients, just waiting to be harvested by unsavoury individuals.

“How we treat our conquered enemies says a lot about us,” Seville stated in a soft voice. “Can we even call them conquered enemies? Many of them were victims of Queen Chrysalis’ tyranny. What choice did they have? Now that they’ve been freed from her control, we see that many changelings are good and decent folk.”

Shining Armor snorted in disgust, which made Blueblood turn to look at him. Gosling was still staring at the ceiling, and Seville was looking at a stack of papers in front of him. Beans began folding up a piece of paper so that he could practice for his origami school assignment, while his sister, Toast, pulled her embroidery hoop out of her bag to keep herself occupied.

“If we punish Equestrian citizens for this and bring the full weight of the law against them, there will be even more civil unrest.” Shining Armor chewed on his lip for a second, then continued, “I’m not saying that we shouldn’t punish them, I’m just saying that we shouldn’t throw the book at them.”

“So, then, Shining, are they to be second-class citizens who do not have the full rights and protections as say, an Equestrian pony? A donkey? A burro?” Blueblood’s voice was flat, emotionless, but his eyes were flinty and narrowed.

“I’m not saying that,” Shining retorted, shaking his head. “I’m just saying that we need to be real careful that we do not set off more riots. Our cities can only burn so much and everything is so precarious right now.”

Angling his head down, Gosling’s ears pivoted forwards. “I don’t like the sounds of this… justification. Ponies are going to riot, that’s just how it is, and the riots are going to continue for quite some time. This is not a means of justification or an excuse for us to discriminate against a minority group of our citizens. If the law is broken and a crime is done in hate, we need to crack down and bust some skulls.”

Blueblood turned to face his contemporary and fellow unicorn prince. “Look, Shining, I understand how uncomfortable you are with this—”

“You’re alicorn-damned right I’m uncomfortable with this!” Shining bellowed, and things on the table rattled from the force of his voice.

“Shining Armor,” Blueblood said in a stern voice, “you are a better pony than this.”

“I know I am, and right now I’m feeling really disappointed with myself!” Shining Armor shook his head and his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m so angry I can’t stand it! Angry with what Chrysalis did to me… to everypony! And I’m angry with myself, because I can’t seem to be impartial, and Cadance is pissed off at me, and I’m pissed off with her, because I know she harbours some of her own ill-will, she just hides it better, and she’s better at being diplomatic about this whole mess than I am, and sometimes I just HATE how perfect she is, with her breathing exercises and her calm exteriour and her ability to act as though everything is okay even when it isn’t!” Opening his eyes, Shining Armor sat there in his chair, panting, and then he blinked a few times in anger.

Blueblood turned, glanced at the twins, shivered, and turned away.

Meanwhile, Seville was hunched over the table, writing something down on a notepad, doing it the old-fashioned way, with a pen held in his lips. Gosling watched him for a time, then looked at Shining, trying to understand the stallion’s pain. He sympathised with Shining Armor, but he also held him to a higher standard, as Shining was part of the Alicorns’ Husbands Club. It was a rare, exclusive club, and they were still arguing over the shirt designs. Unicorns needed shirts with durable, well-made collars, for obvious reasons, while Gosling found such collars far too restrictive.

Being in the Club meant that one had to be held to an impossible standard.

“Trying to keep things fair for minorities has proven near-impossible,” Blueblood said in a low voice as he paced in an aggressive manner, going back and forth, to and fro. “Give them preferential treatment; the majority grows resentful and hates them. Try to offer them protection, and the majority grows resentful and wonders where their protection is, even though they don’t need it. It seems as though any attempt to level the playing field and keep everything fair is met with gross hatred and belligerence. I have yet to find some means of trying to make things right without offending or upsetting some other group.”

“Try being a poor, First Tribes pegasus pony in Manehattan, and then you get back to me about majorities and minorities.” Gosling’s head made a curt nod, his lip curled back from his teeth. His anger wasn’t directed at Blueblood, Gosling was just angry in general. “Imagine being an Equestrian pony that was somehow not part of the majority, but was looked at and treated like he was one of the outsiders, you know, the ones that live in the tenement down the street, where everything smells funky and the food has that funny, foreign, spicy stink that everypony complains about.”

Blueblood’s eyebrow lifted.

“Now, imagine that one of those minorities, they get special opportunities, special chances, they get a little extra preferential treatment—that’s good, right? They’re poor, they need it, a little helping hoof now and then keeps everything fair and balanced.” Gosling began tapping his hoof on the table, and his eyes were little more than narrowed slits. “Now, back to that poor First Tribes pegasus, and imagine how unfair it feels to him that him and his Ma can’t get no kind of help from nopony, because, hey, pegasus ponies, the privileged majority. No help needed, right?”

“Cor, that sums up the problem right there, don’t it?” Toast looked up from her embroidery and looked around. “Summons up the plight of the common pony quite well, it does. Back home, nopony gets anything, and we’re all left to flounder on our own. They don’t even try to make things fair. You’re born into a class and you’ll probably die in that class. If you try to rise up, they’ll beat you down. If they see you falling, they’ll give you a shove to help you out. Toodle-oo and all that.”

“It’s about the only thing you can count on.” Beans placed a paper crane down upon the table and squirmed in his seat a bit. “As soon as you’re born—”

“They make you feel small…”—Toast picked up on her twin’s sentence—“by giving you no time—”

“Instead of it all”—Beans continued where his sister left off—“‘til the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.”

In his chair, Shining Armor was frowning while rubbing his chin. He remained silent, but was thoughtful. Blueblood continued his pacing. Seville studied the twins; the pen hanging out of his mouth. Gosling looked sullen, out of sorts, and a bit cranky, a far cry from his earlier mood.

It was Shining Armor that broke the silence. “If we can’t find a way to level the playing field and make things fair, perhaps the best we can do is punish them all by the same standard. Perhaps equality will only be found in the justice we dispense. Maybe that is all our citizens will have to look forward to, is that punishment is meted out in fair and equal measure.”

Author's Note

It was Gosling's crowning achievement...

Chapter 21

Gosling, now Straight Key, walked in between two very interesting mares, enjoying their company. There was a lot to be learned here, if he paid attention, if he kept his wits about him. These bodies, they didn’t lie, they didn’t conceal, the emotions of the sisters came out unchecked, unfiltered, and plain to see. Celestia, as Sunshine Smiles, did not have her princessly mask, and neither did Luna as Moonlight Raven.

Being a smart pony, he planned to use this to his advantage somehow, in whatever way he could. The sisters, they hid things, from each other, from him, from others, and it was mighty, mighty frustrating. The wind gave a playful tug against Straight Key’s body and snowflakes danced in whirling eddies around his legs while he kept time with the two mares on either side of him.

“Moonlight?” Straight Key turned to look at the sinister goth girl on his left.

“Yeah?”

Was she smiling? She almost looked like she was smiling. “About that friendly little mount earlier…”

“What about it?” Moonlight asked in a raspy deadpan.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out if I did. I’m young and I do stupid stuff. It was just friendly flirting… schoolyard stuff—but thanks to guard training I know that schoolyard stuff can be harassment and I’m just worried that it bothered you.” Squinting, Straight Key studied Moonlight Raven’s face, trying to read past her passive features.

“I will confess, I panicked a bit at first,” Moonlight admitted, “but then I remembered that you’re my friend, and you’ve been in far more intimate situations with me. You’ve behaved yourself even when I did not.” Snowflakes clung to Moonlight’s mascaraed eyelashes, transforming her into an exquisite creature of winter beauty.

“Like, oh my gosh, the two of you… so cute! I can’t stand it!” Once more, Sunshine Smiles began to pronk around in the snow, and her solidified sunshine mane bobbed and bounced. “You two like, totally deserve to be happy… both of you should like, you know, hook up, it would be like, amazing.”

“Woah, she’s talking again.” This time, a snowflake clung to Moonlight’s eyeshadow mid-blink, and stood out in intriguing contrast.

“She can talk all she wants,” Straight Key said to the mare on his left while the mare on his right pronked around. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, so you could have a nice night.”

“Thank you, Straight Key, that’s really nice of you…”

The Tasty Treat was crowded with ponies, and there was a significant wait to get a table. Had they come in the door as the Royal Family, they would have been seated right away, with some poor customers no doubt being booted from their table, but having come in as commoners… they had to wait like everypony else.

Sitting on the padded bench, Straight Key couldn’t help but notice that Sunshine Smiles was acting in a most peculiar way. She was effervescent, bubbly, but she was also clinging to him. There was something shy about her, she almost seemed reserved when crowded on all sides by strangers. Her behaviour was noticeable and it was almost as if she was scared, but doing her best to hide it.

Meanwhile, Moonlight Raven didn’t seem too bothered at all, other than the fact that she sat on the bench grumbling about the wait. Impatient, she was not used to waiting, and she had made this clear that she found it annoying. After her initial outburst, she contented herself with mumbling to herself about how unfair life was, how bleak and meaningless it all was in true goth girl fashion.

All around them, life was happening. Little foals cried, no doubt ruining what might be an otherwise nice dinner for some. Personal space was violated in the line of those waiting for a table, which seemed to be distressing for Sunshine Smiles. There was laughter while music played, loud voices, and whimpers of pain from those who had dared to eat the hottest curry.

For Gosling, sitting inside of the body of Straight Key, he realised for the first time just how much he missed this. It was a crushing realisation to have, and it caused the smile to flee from Straight Key’s face. Most of his life was spent indoors now, inside of Canterlot Castle. Inside of the most opulent gilded cage ever constructed.

And just to come out, even in disguise, he had no way of knowing just how many of the guests around him waiting for a table were guards. A little niggle of guilt formed when he thought about how much inconvenience he was causing at the moment. Just to come out and go to dinner. One of the guards was Hush, but he didn’t know which one. Everything was a snarl right now, and there were quite a few who were unhappy with the long wait.

He had witnessed the death of normalcy in his life, and this conclusion left him a little sad.

Beside him, Sunshine Smiles now looked frazzled, and she clung to him, trembling just a little, but somehow putting on a good show, acting as though everything was fine. The press of the crowd, the heat coming from the bodies, the salty smell of sweat, the pungent reek of pegasus wingpits, the muffled roar of too many voices all packed into too small a space, it was getting to poor Sunshine Smiles.

The table was intended for two ponies, but somehow, Straight Key, Midnight Raven, and Sunshine Smiles all managed to make do. It might also be the worst table in the establishment, being located right next to the swinging kitchen door, and not the sort of place where one might seat the Royal Family, should one host them.

But they were common ponies, having a common dinner.

Straight Key sat between the two sisters, having what might have been the time of his life. Being unicorns, they did all of the work and he did all of the eating. When a spoon or a fork was put in front of his face, he didn’t question it, he ate it. He was sweating, his mouth was on fire, his eyes were watering, and everything was great.

Everything but Sunshine Smiles. More and more, Straight Key noticed something was wrong with the sunny-maned mare. The cracks were showing, her eyes were darting around, and she radiated more and more manic energy. She was crammed into the corner, she insisted on sitting there, and he watched the way that she watched the crowd pressing in all around them.

“Sunshine…” The word rolled from Straight Key’s tongue, a familiar word, because Gosling already called Celestia by that name. “You’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you, Sunshine?”

The levitated fork and spoon both froze and the mare focused her green eyes on Straight Key. “Like, whatever… I don’t know what you mean.”

Moonlight Raven turned a heavy-lidded and somewhat bored looking stare upon her sister while she chewed up a mouthful of lentils. Straight Key leaned over, getting into Sunshine Smiles' equinal space, and he observed her reaction while she pulled away. These bodies didn’t do a very good job of hiding stuff, or bluffing, concealing, or revealing.

Reaching out a foreleg, he snaked it around the slender little mare’s body, pulled her closer, placed his muzzle next to her ear and whispered, “Time for a little heavy petting and seat wetting—”

“Like, stop that! There’s like, ponies watching and stuff!” Sunshine Smiles voice was shrill and came straight out of her nose. She squirmed, trying to be free of Straight Key’s embrace, but he was much larger and stronger than she was. “Like, oh my gosh, I’m being groped, stop that!”

“You’ve definitely been hiding something from me, Sunshine.” Straight Key’s eyes narrowed and he squeezed the little pink mare even harder. “You’re an introvert, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sunshine Smiles said, sounding frightened and a bit fillyish. “Like, I don’t even know what that word means, I’ve never heard it before in my life.” She was trembling now, and her breathing had progressed to a state of near-panting. “Now, like, let go of me because you’re all sweaty and grody, for sure.”

“You are… you are my little introvert—”

“Leggo, dweeb!” Sunshine squirmed, but for once, she was the smaller, weaker one. “I am not an introvert, I’m not! Like, stop calling me that!”

“She is,” Moonlight deadpanned.

“Traitor!” Sunshine’s eyes narrowed, her whole face contorted while turning purple with rage, and her lower lip protruded into a mean-looking point. She continued to try and pull away from Straight Key, but he overpowered her, hugging her close, and there was nothing she could do about it. When he started stroking her neck to comfort her, she let out a contemptuous snort of righteous indignation.

“This explains a lot,” Straight Key whispered, his lips brushing up against Sunshine’s ear. “You’ve been an unhappy, squirmy little introvert having to play an extrovert princess for a long, long time, haven’t you?”

“No!” Sunshine Smiles continued her futile struggle, but didn’t put much effort into it. “Like, shut up. I’m not talking to you.”

“You’re not aloof, you’re an introvert that is coping with the crowds.” Straight Key’s embrace became less antagonistic and more comforting. “Every day, you put on a brave face and do your best to hide it, because you think of it as weakness.”

“Shut up.” Scowling, her nostrils flaring, Sunshine collapsed into a pout, folded her forelegs over her barrel, and then went quiet.

“She wants to be the ponies’ princess,” Moonlight Raven said in a low, growly whisper. “The perfect princess, perfect in every way, outgoing, cheerful, extroverted, but meanwhile, she’s screaming on the inside and she’s been scared stupid because she’s terrified that you would find out that she’s not the mare you thought she was. You should see her dreams, she thinks you’ll leave if you find out.”

“Is this true?” Straight Key asked.

“Shut up, both of you!” Sunshine resumed eating, taking angry, nippy bites, and she no longer shared with Straight Key, who was still holding her. She filled her mouth with rice, vegetables, and fried, crispy bits, then chewed, ignoring her mealtime companions.

“You’re that shy introverted filly in school that wants to be one of the popular fillies… and those popular fillies… they plan, and they plot, and they’re mean, and they’re catty. I got involved with one of those popular girls… her name was Skyfire Flash, and we both know how that turned out. You’re better off being you. You already have me, and I like the idea that I’ve settled down with that shy, quiet girl from school. She strikes me as the type that really appreciates what she has.”

Sunshine Smiles said nothing in return, but a sweet, almost sad smile did appear, and she kept eating while her eyes watered—from spice or kind words, it was impossible to say. The flickering candles on the table were reflected in her eyes and after swallowing, she leaned up against Straight Key, content to be held.

Reaching out one foreleg, Straight Key pulled Moonlight closer, ignoring how she resisted him. After a bit of scooting together, the tiny, cramped corner nook for two became a cosy spot for three. Moonlight stopped resisting, let heave a raspy sigh, and leaned up against Straight Key. Together, the three resumed eating.

“It’s like, super hard being the biggest pony in the room, and like, having everypony stare at you, and watching every little thing you do, and you just want them to like, stare at something else. It like, totally sucks standing out, being the biggest and the prettiest and the center of attention, and I like, you know, like hate it and stuff.” Raising her spoon, Sunshine fed Straight Key a bite of peas and cheese. “You can’t fit in. You stand out. There’s like, no way to go unnoticed, and it like, totally blows.”

“It must be hard.” Straight Key licked his lips, a bit, but then was poked in the snoot with a spoon loaded down with chickpeas, which he ate.

“I totally don’t have a choice in the matter.” Sunshine Smiles shivered as some of her perkiness returned. “I really am energetic and perky and horny and I can be really outgoing to those who are the closest to me… but it takes a while for me to like, you know, open up to ponies. But like, when I’m doing my job as a princess, I don’t have time to get to know ponies, or like get used to being around them, I just have to rip myself open and bare my soul and I like totally hate it. It hurts, you know? It’s totally like when you get laid, but you’re not ready and nothing is lubed up, and it like totally hurts, but you keep going because you totally don’t want to be a disappointment.”

“Everything is about sex for you, isn’t it?” Straight Key asked while Sunshine filled her mouth with rice and broccoli.

“Introverts can really like sex… it’s just the opening up to other ponies part that is hard to do,” Moonlight Raven deadpanned, answering for her sister, who now had her mouth full. “And then, when you do find that one pony that you can open up to and be yourself, you just wanna do it all the time. It’s not even about the sex, it’s about being close.”

“And it feels good too,” Sunshine added, talking around a mouthful of half-chewed food. “Try this!” She held up her spoon which was loaded down with some of the curried broccoli and she slipped it between Straight Key’s lips before he could say anything in response. “You’re like, my best friend, and I can be like, all open and stuff and act like a total spaz and it feels good to just be myself.”

“Well…” Moonlight Raven let heave a sigh that sounded as though it was equal parts ennui and angst. “You finally know my sister. I think it will be a while longer yet before you know me.”

“Yeah, like, when we’re not being the princesses, we’re like totally different ponies…”

Author's Note

No introverts were harmed during the making of this chapter.

Chapter 22

The city of Canterlot was a magical, breathtaking snow globe of immense beauty. Streams of almost liquid silver moonlight shone down, refracting off of every glistening surface, every snowflake, and pooled in every bright eye. It was a thing of magnificence, a thing of wondrous, fantastical beauty, witnessed only by those who ventured out into the night. Gosling, disguised as Straight Key, found himself left feeling small and foalish by what he witnessed.

Together, the threesome slipped and slided on the ice, with Sunshine Smiles doing it on purpose, squealing with delight while she did a crazy dance to remain upright. Sunshine had fun with an almost foalish, reckless abandon, because there could be no doubt that it felt good to let go.

The fun was interrupted by a pair of approaching ponies, one big and tall, the other not quite so big and tall. Sunshine Smiles pronked to Straight Key’s side and stood there, waiting, still smiling but cautious, while Moonlight Raven strode forwards with confidence. Several of the seeming passersby took an interest in this development, a keen interest with all of their eyes focused on the approaching figures.

“Moonlight Raven… it is always a pleasure to see you out to enjoy the evening.” The larger of the two ponies bowed his head somewhat, while his companion remained rigid and stiff. “And what a fine evening it is. Where are my manners? I haven’t introduced my associate, and I am sorry.”

Straight Key, his ears erect, watched and waited, his own guard training somehow shining through his disguise. Every muscle tensed, but had to be ignored. The whole point of the disguises was to be able to go out, meet ponies, and talk to them. To engage them. To socialise with their subjects and get to know them.

“This is Flicker Nicker,” the pony said, making introductions. “Flicker Nicker, this is Moonlight Raven and her sister, Sunshine Smiles. I am unsure of the identity of the no-doubt fine gentlepony accompanying them.” The tall, dignified pony bowed his head once more, and his smaller companion followed suit, his movements stiff, and some might say wooden.

“This is Straight Key,” Moonlight Raven deadpanned. “And you… woah”—she pointed with her hoof at the colt—“you have the perfect face for guard duty.” Something almost like a smirk appeared on her face, and she made a sweeping gesture with her raised hoof. “Straight Key, this is Doctor Sterling. He’s like… my friend. I guess. Whatever.”

The colt’s scowl intensified into a grimace that made Straight Key’s blood run cold.

“Have you nothing to say, Mister Nicker?” Doctor Sterling’s face became a stern, unyielding mask, but his eyes were merry, vivid, and bright. “You must excuse my companion, we are going out to a concert, and he doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t get music. Or art. Or the equinities in general.”

“Like, swinging a sword is like, no different than swinging a paint brush, and when you’re done, there’s like liquids everywhere in really expressive puddles,” Sunshine Smiles blabbed, trying to make conversation.

Arching one eyebrow, the left corner of Doctor Sterling’s mouth curled up into a fine, aristocratic smirk. “Indeed. I feel the same way.”

“We must be going.” One hoof kicked down and struck the icy cobblestones. “Come, Mister Nicker, we must educate you somehow, or I shall no doubt die of mortification due to my lack of success.”

The pair took off, Moonlight Raven, her hoof still raised, waved goodbye, and Sunshine Smiles watched them go. Straight Key too, watched their departure, and was glad that the little buzzkill was leaving. Something about that face… he dismissed it, shoved it from his mind, and remained resolute to have a good time.

“Who wants cocoa?” Straight Key asked.

“”I like, could totally go for some roasted chestnuts, like, literally, oh my gosh.” Sunshine Smiles leaned up against Straight Key, and whipped his backside with her tail.

“No doubt slapping against your chin,” Moonlight Raven deadpanned.

The Canterlot Royal Observatory was almost deserted. There were a few quiet, withdrawn, nerdy types, which made Moonlight Raven, Sunshine Smiles, and Straight Key stand out all the more. It was a public building, much like a public library, where the ponies of Canterlot could come and use the telescopes. There was an orrery that displayed the complicated workings of the solar system around Terra Prime. Terra Secundus and Terra Tertius were beginning their intricate dance with Terra Quartus and Terra Quintus.

Straight Key noted that Terra Secundus was pulling the sun away from Terra Primus, making its orbit elliptical, and causing winter to happen. Deep within Straight Key, Gosling had himself an almost spiritual moment when he looked at the orrery and witnessed the domain of the sisters: they kept a careful, complicated balance that allowed life to continue.

He stood, unmoving, only blinking when his eyes began to sting, and watched the almost impossible to notice movement of the orrery, in which nothing seemed to move, but perhaps offered the illusion of movement when one stood staring at it long enough. He felt somepony brush up against his side, pressing against him, and he turned to look at Sunshine Smiles, but found Moonlight Raven instead.

“It’s majestic, isn’t it?” she asked in her dull-sounding, gravel-choked voice. “So few come here. So few understand. So few appreciate. Nopony really cares what is going on in the skies up above us. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“I’m sorry, Moonlight, I—”

“Hush.”

Straight Key felt the hairs along his spine stand up when she brushed up against him once more, an almost catlike gesture of affection. Sunshine Smiles was on the other side of the Orrery, and there was an adorable squint on her face while she focused upon the movement of the moon around Terra Prime.

“Like, I have always loved the moon,” Sunshine Smiles said in a low whisper while she watched. “Ponies call it the lesser light, but that’s like totally wrong… I’ve always thought of it like, the more gentler light, because sometimes, like, you know, the sun is like totally too harsh.” She let out a sniff and her tail swished around her hind legs. “The gentler light is like, literally better for romance, it’s like, mood lighting for like really fantastic sex. And speaking of sex, tonight I’m totally going to be the little spoon. It’s gonna be great!”

A single tear ran down Moonlight Raven’s cheek, smearing her mascara—a sign of powerful illusion indeed—and after making its way down her velvet fuzz, it plopped to the floor, leaving behind a black, inky splotch. She pressed up against Straight Key, pushing against him, and her whole body trembled. For a moment, her mouth opened, but no words came out, and Sunshine was too busy studying the moon to notice.

Even though he had been hushed, Straight Key dared to defy. “Moonlight, are you alright?”

“Just shut up.” Another tear rolled down, leaving behind a black streak on her cheek, running parallel to the first. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face against Straight Key’s broad neck, smearing him with runny mascara, which seemed rather real for being an illusion.

“I used to come to this place with Helianthus and together, we’d like watch this here orrery, not even talking really, and I’d watch the planets moving around like hands on a clock, and I was totally like a foal waiting for the clock on the wall in class to say that school was like, you know, over.” Sunshine paused, gulped a few times, and never once took her eyes off of the tiny orbiting moon. “This was like, my clock that I watched, waiting for a thousand winters to pass, and like, near the end, like, oh my gosh, it felt like each year was getting a little longer than the last, until it was like, you know, unbearable and I couldn’t take it any more, and I think I finally like, you know, totally understood how a foal waiting in class feels for those last few minutes to tick away.”

Straight Key recoiled. He could only imagine that the orrery was moving, well, most of it. He was pretty sure that he could see the moon moving if he stared at it long enough. But to use it like a clock? Watching the second hand as it crept closer to the time when the bell would ring? That summed up his experience in secondary school. Those last few minutes were the worst, and some kind of horrible, weird magic made the seconds stretch out. Sometimes, it felt as though the second hand had got stuck and would never move again.

But to watch an orrery and wait for entire seasons to pass like quarter hours? Deep inside of Straight Key, Gosling shuddered. Sunshine Smiles wasn’t smiling, she had a troubled look upon her face, a look mirrored on the face of Moonlight Raven, no doubt, if she were to pull away from his neck and stop smearing her mascara all over him.

Sniffling a bit, Moonlight Raven pulled herself away from Straight Key and peered through the orrery to look at the pony on the other side. After a raspy cough and clearing her throat a few times, she had this to say: “It’s why this place has such a high budget and remains so well funded even though it’s deserted, isn’t it? You kept this place running so you would have a place to wait, right? Every bureaucrat in Canterlot wants to cut the funding for this place, and you won’t let them.”

Sunshine Smiles pulled her eyes away from the moon and focused on Moonlight Raven. After a few seconds, her sunny smile returned, and a merry twinkle illuminated her eyes. “Ya, you know, like, this might have been one of the few times where I actually abused my power. I like so totally threatened to throw a comptroller out of the window about two hundred years or so ago. I was a bad pony, but, like, so was he. That jerk tried to lead a financial revolt against my spending policies.”

“You’ve changed,” Moonlight deadpanned.

“Have I?” Sunshine replied.

“Yes. In the past, the past that I remember, he would have gone out the window and right into the rose bushes.” Something that was almost a smile spread over Moonlight’s muzzle. “You’ve grown more patient as the years have passed.”

“Well, I totally had to be patient.” Sunshine Smiles pawed the floor with one hoof, her ears twitched, and her tail became extra-swishy. “I, like, had to wait for my sister to come back to me, and it like, totally taught me a lot about patience.”

Straight Key watched with a lump in his throat as the two disguised sisters moved to embrace one another, and he couldn’t help but feel that something profound had just changed. He didn’t know what it was, but he suspected it had something to do with these bodies, their sincerity, and their utter inability to hide anything. Quiet, respectful, he remained where he stood so the two sisters could have their space.

Back in the castle, the two sisters were acting as if nothing had happened, and Straight Key was glad to be home. As they made their way to the residential wing, Sunshine Smiles was humming to herself, leading the way, flicking and wafting the inviting scent of mare musk with her tail. Moonlight Raven walked a little behind and off to one side, giving her sister a wide berth.

Straight Key already knew how this night was going to end, and he trotted with a wide, wolfish grin. Tonight was going to be special—a real treat—and all of his anticipation was about to pay off in a big way. Tonight, he was going to be the big spoon, and maybe indulge a certain pony he knew with their mounting fetish.

“Tonight, I’m totally gonna be the little spoon,” Sunshine Smiles said while she cast a sidelong sultry glance over her shoulder at Straight Key. “Your mission tonight is to like, hold me down and overpower me with your big, burly body. Make me feel like the little, helpless mare that I am.”

“I think I’ll be going.” Moonlight Raven paused mid-step, frowned, and then shook her head. “This night was great while it lasted. I had a great time.”

“Stay with us.” Straight Key turned to look at Moonlight Raven, and he saw her eyes widen. “No, I don’t mean like that… don’t you dare! You know me! I’m not like that and I’m not about to let you create drama where none exists! Don’t you even think about ruining this great night we had by starting a fight!”

Scolded, her ears pinning back, Moonlight Raven made a strange sound deep in her throat.

“How about we all watch a movie together—”

“B-b-but the little spoon needs her big spoon!” Sunshine Smiles stammered, interrupting Straight Key. “I, like, totally got a bad case of the squishes when I walk!”

“I know.” Straight Key let out a resigned sigh. “I know. But we should stay together. Drop the illusions, be ourselves again, and spend the night together.”

Lower lip trembling, Sunshine Smiles stomped her hoof. “Fine! But I am like totally owed some little spoon time!”

“And you’ll get it.” Straight Key sighed, winked at Sunshine, and then looked at Moonlight Raven. “How about we watch our wedding? That’s a happy moment.”

Swallowing, her ears perking, Moonlight Raven gave a nod. “Once I turn back to myself, I’ll go set up the projector.”

Author's Note

I'm sorry, I need a moment...

Chapter 23

When Gosling awoke, something was amiss. Opening his eyes, he saw that the room was bathed in the faint light of the projector, which was still on. Luna was beside him, sleeping, looking rather serene, and without thinking about it, he nuzzled her neck with his muzzle, glad to feel her velvety softness. When he realised that he could get away with it, he kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss on the cheek, nothing more, nothing less. Trust was too valuable a currency, something he stored up, something that he treasured, and he wished to keep his deposit safe.

Celestia was gone. Lifting his head, he looked around, and saw no trace of her in the makeshift theatre, Lady Luna’s luxurious lounge. Blinking a few times, he yawned, doing so with as little volume as possible, and then he rose up on wobbling legs, pulling a blanket up with him. He draped it over his body, covering his naked wings, and then began to pull the remaining blankets over Luna. She liked the cold, and would no doubt kick the blankets off at some point, but he wanted her to be warm and cozy, at least for a time.

It was now time to find out where Celestia had slipped off to.

The castle was a different place at night, and it was not as lifeless as one might think. Many sections were abandoned, but other sections were abuzz with activity, preparing for the coming day. Gosling had been quite surprised to discover this, but now, after living here for a while, it did not seem so surprising.

Seeing a group of guards, he approached them, the corner of the blanket draped over his back trailing on the floor behind him. The guards were statues, because of course they were, and remained silent during his approach. When he drew near, they snapped to attention, and there was a muffled clank.

“Have you seen my wife?” Gosling asked.

No answer.

“Big, tall pony, she’s a very pale shade of pink, horn, wings, and can belch the entire dragon alphabet.”

Nothing, not even a snicker.

“Look, the door is right back there, just down the hall, and this is the only way she could have come.”

Peculiar, there was no response.

“Okay, fine.” Gosling drew in a deep breath and then barked out, “Guards, I demand to know where my princess is!”

“Sir, that cannot be answered, Sir.” The guard who spoke had a stony, unreadable face.

“Why not?” Gosling demanded.

Again, he was met with silence.

Realising that Celestia might have given them orders to not reveal her passing, Gosling recalled all he knew of protocol, which was considerable, and then knew what needed to be done. Clearing his throat, he looked the guard who had spoken right in the eye. “What was the last order given to you?”

After waiting for a bit, Gosling realised that there would be no answer, probably because Celestia might have anticipated this and had covered her tracks and had explicitly given orders not to repeat the last orders. If this was true, she was being sneaky, and as old as she was, she could be very sneaky, because it was all part of the game. Sure, she could have just teleported herself to wherever, or winked, or whatever it was that she did when she used magic to travel, but she loved the game.

“Tell me, what were the last words spoken to you?” Gosling asked, trying another angle.

“You didn’t see anything,” the guard replied, staring straight ahead while also somehow avoiding Gosling’s gaze.

The great game had rules.

“Okay, you didn’t see anything, but you did hear something. Which direction did you hear this something go?” Gosling, feeling clever, allowed himself to look just a little smug.

“I heard a disturbance heading down the west passage, towards the central kitchens.” The corners of the guard’s mouth kept twitching, turning upwards, and his eyes glittered with repressed glee. “But I did not see it. Very astute, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Gosling bowed his head. “I’ll be going now. You have excellent ears.”

“Why, thank you, Sir.” The guard let out a snort, and then fought to keep from snickering, something his companion failed to do.

“Carry on,” Gosling said as he trotted away, heading west.

A small herd of terrified ponies stampeded down the hall, but gave him a wide berth. They were messy looking, some were covered in what appeared to be flour, while others were covered in sauces, or whatever goopy thing it was that stuck to their pelts. One mare had the remains of some kind of salad still in her mane. Absolute pandamonium took place as they galloped down the hall, whinnying, wickering, and bellowing.

“Ees horrabool!” one mare cried while she ran past. “She ees like soom ravenoos moonster!”

In the middle of the chaos, Gosling stopped, raised his head, and struck a majestic pose. His prey was nearby, sacking the kitchens, spooking the little ponies that she adored, that she defended, the little ponies she had a solemn duty to preserve. His ears pivoted around, listening to every sound, and in that moment, wrapped in a blanket, standing in his most majestic pose, Gosling looked absolutely nothing at all like a prince.

Even though he didn’t look it, being a prince, he had to protect his little ponies from the ravages of Nightmare Noon. He took off at a calm trot, heading for the kitchens, mindful of the fleeing, spooked little ponies running past, and a part of him wanted to turn around so he could run with them. He denied that part though, resolute, and steeled himself to face the peril that he knew was ahead.

Just outside of the door, Gosling heard a sound. It was an indescribable sound, a sound that he had no means of comparison. There was sucking, slurping, crunching, munching, whooshing, belching, and mixed in with all of these sounds, there were happy little wickers. Somepony was having a good time.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside the kitchen to discover his wife with her head stuck inside of a fridge. The other fridges were open, and appeared to have been ransacked by some ravenous horde. Crumbs were strewn along the counters, and various kitchen implements lay where the kitchen staff had dropped them, fleeing the impending disaster.

“Hungry?”

Startled, Celestia let out a spooked whinny while her head jerked up. There was a screech, the sound of rending metal, followed by an electrical crackle. The fridge was lifted from the floor with no real effort on Celestia’s part, and when she turned around, Gosling could see her horn protruding through the back of the fridge. It was terrifying, seeing how at ease she was with lifting a fridge that was impaled upon her horn.

“Baby, you have a fridge stuck on your head.”

“Gosling!” Celestia’s voice had a strange echoing effect inside of the icebox. “Don’t look at me like this!” Somehow, even with a refrigerator hanging from her head, she was still the most majestic, most dignified, most magnificent creature in all of Equestria, and perhaps the world.

“Too late.” Gosling began to laugh, and he did so knowing full well that Celestia could hear him. From inside the fridge, he heard the sound of gobbling, he knew that she had resumed eating, and with gusto. “Feeling cold?”

“No,” was Celestia’s echoed response from within her makeshift feedbag. While other ponies used a sack hung from the ears, she used a whole fridge hung from her horn. “No, I’m having hot flashes… I can’t get cooled off, I’m sweating while I’m eating, and I can’t stop being hungry.”

“Sounds rough—”

“Don’t patronise me! This is all your fault!”

Ears pinning back, Gosling responded, “So it is. But as I recall, you were quite willing.”

The white alicorn stomped her hoof, which made everything in the kitchen rattle, and the fridge swung from side to side when she shook her head. “Don’t get cocky with me, cockerel!” A loud slurping followed, and then there was a reverberating, echoing belch that had to be deafening within the confines of the refrigerator in which Celestia’s head was stuck. “Mmm, spinach and chestnut dip… that was good.”

“I don’t know if the harvest gold colour of your new crown matches with the rest of you,” Gosling remarked.

“Shut up, Gosling.”

“That avocado trim on the fridge definitely doesn’t match—”

“That’s it, I’m telling your mother!” Her voice had a strange magnification from inside the icebox, which was indeed, harvest gold with avocado trim. The kitchens had not been remodeled or refurbished in quite some time.

“It’s nice that we can have these open exchanges between us, that we’re comfortable enough with each other to see each other during these moments of—”

“Don’t look at me! I don’t feel pretty right now!” There was a gulp from the inside of the fridge. “I’m hot, I’m sweaty, my pelt is matted, and I have a terrible case of swamp ass.”

Gosling facehoofed, because, really, what else could one do when one’s princess said that she was suffering from swamp ass? The kitchen was filled with the sound of his laughter and the ravenous consumption of the alicorn who had her head trapped inside of the fridge. A dreadful noise emerged, like a pony stomping in the mud, and Gosling’s lip curled back in disgust even as he kept laughing.

“Mmm, custard!” After much slurping, she half-said, half-belched the words, “I’m running out of food in here.”

“Well, you’ll have to pull your head out of that—”

“NO!” Celestia’s voice thundered from inside of the metallic confines in which she was trapped. “Ouch.” Now her voice was low, meek, and full of pain. “You can’t see me like this, Gosling. My face must look dreadful. I don’t even want to imagine how awful I must look.”

“Sunshine, I’m not interested in your face,” Gosling said, being smooth. “I’m more interested in that hot, wet, sweaty backside of yours.”

“You know, I’m tempted to believe you, but screwing in the kitchen with a refrigerator on my head is an absurdity that I just cannot bear to partake in.”

“But this is okay? Just talking?”

“Yes, Gosling, somehow, this is okay. After about four or five hundred years or so, this memory will fade, and I won’t feel like dying from embarrassment, should I think about it.” She belched, a thunderous, reverberating sound that made the metal around her head creak, and then she added, “I can be a patient mare, if I need to be. Now go away, so I can ransack another fridge.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean, nope?” Now, she sounded quite annoyed. “I need some privacy, Gosling, and I need it now.” From inside the icebox, there was a snort.

“You mean that you need more privacy than a fridge stuck on your head offers?”

“Yes!” Then, after a second, “No!” There was a longer pause… “I’m quite confused right now. I’m hot, sweaty, thirsty, hungry, and now, worst of all, I’m horny as all get out. Drats!”

“You know, Celestia—”

“I can hear the trouble in your voice, Gosling! What are you doing?”

“—I think you need to—”

“You fool, don't do it!”

“—chill out.”

“You lecherous little scamp! How could you? I’m trapped in a fridge! Have you no mercy?”

“Just saying—”

“Here we go again!”

“—I think you need to—”

“No, you fiend!”

“—cool off.”

“You are such an asshole.”

Chuckling, Gosling stared at Celestia and the icebox, and could hear no sound of anything being eaten. He had her, the fridge was empty, and she had no options left. That fridge was coming off, which was sure to be interesting. Her wings fluttered against her sides, and the parts that were visible were covered in bits and morsels of food. Just as he was about to say something, the room went dark. Utterly and completely dark.

“No matter which game I play, I always win, Gosling. Sorry, it just has to be this way.”

In the darkness, there was a screech of metal, a scraping sound, and then a thud. Somehow, Celestia was doing magic without generating light, an impressive feat indeed. It was dreadful, now, he would never know. He would never see the resplendent majesty of his wife in her current position. Something moved in the dark, there was more screeching of metal, and then, Gosling heard something peculiar.

He heard hooves, a panic inducing sound if ever there was one, and it made him shiver.

A baritone voice said, “What foul darkness is this?”

There was a wheezing gasp from Celestia, and then the lights turned on. Gosling was shoved aside as another pony pushed into the room, no doubt to investigate what was going on. Gosling, his eyes dazzled by the sudden light, couldn’t see what was going on, but there was a prolonged wheezing gasp from Celestia, and then he heard her say:

“Shining Armor!”

“What did I just walk in on?” Shining Armor asked. “There was a lot of screaming. There was a ruckus. What’s going on?”

“Just a minute ago, she had a fridge stuck on her—”

“Gosling!”

“Really?” The excitement in Shining Armor’s voice was impossible not to notice. “You startled her while she was grazing in the fridge, didn’t you?” The white stallion began to laugh, and he gave Gosling a good natured slug. “Have I got a story to tell you about Cadance!”

Author's Note

I think I need an ambulance.

Chapter 24

The shower was a steady stream of heat and comfort that came from all angles. He stood beside Celestia, mindful of her wings and how she flapped them. The sun would rise soon, the day would begin, but for now, they had this moment alone. Sure, later in the day, they’d be tired, in need of sleep, but this moment, as it was right now, was glorious.

“Luna really needs to take on a student,” Celestia remarked as she stood with her eyes closed and her face held close to one of the many showerheads. “It is the way of things. Moon Rose would be ideal, I think, but Luna needs to be well enough to do the job.”

“Mmm hmm.” Gosling nodded, and was slapped by one wet wing. He didn’t mind.

A bottle was squeezed, making a flatulent sound, and Gosling jumped when something ice cold squirted over his spine. The scent of citrus filled the air—a strong, acrid smell—and something that was almost, but not quite, strawberries. He heard a laugh from the mare beside him, and then she too, began to prance around while she squirted cold soap over her back.

“What about you?” Gosling asked.

“What about me?”

“When are you going to take on a new student? Twilight Sparkle’s replacement?”

“Oh, you silly pegasus, I have a student.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“You been holding out on me?”

No response, just a giggle, and he felt the soap being massaged into his back.

“So who is your student?”

“You, silly.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you..”

This was surprising. “I was not made aware that I was to be your student.”

“I am teaching you how to be my husband. How to rule. How to govern. How to be my most trusted associate, so I can leave you in charge when I have to go and deal with crises that are difficult for you little ponies to even comprehend.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t.”

“Okay, maybe I don’t.”

“When I had Twilight Sparkle, I had a second student.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

Now, frothy lather ran down Gosling’s ribs, down his legs, and foamed along his belly.

“Shining Armor was my other student. But he didn’t know it. He was my secret student for many years. And when I saw an opportunity, I started training him to be Cadance’s husband, so he could rule, so he could govern, so he could be Cadance’s most trusted associate when she and I have to deal with crises that you little ponies have great difficulty comprehending.”

“You play a long game—”

“Yes, I do.” Celestia’s words were firm, confident, and somehow commanding.

“This makes sense. If you can’t trust your husband, who can you trust?” Gosling nodded his head, and rubbed his naked, featherless wings against his sides, lathering them up so they too, could get clean. “I guess this ties in with Luna, too. It is easier to have one pony that you trust for both you and your sister. Smaller numbers being more secure, and all that. I’ve proven that I can be trusted.”

“Exactly.” Celestia began humming while she scrubbed herself, and it was the sound of morning itself. Turning about, she hiked up the now loose strands of her tail, and allowed a well-placed showerhead to spray water where the sun did in fact, shine.

“I worry a lot… about our trust,” Gosling confessed, and he thought about how he had smooched Luna not all that long ago. “I worry about it the most when I am giving you the business—”

“How romantic!”

“No, really, I do.” Gosling’s voice quieted a bit, dropping in volume when he continued. “I always worry that I’ll be too eager. That I’ll be too rough. I worry that I might hurt you, somehow—”

“Or disappoint me, or let me down, or any number of other dreadful things you can think of?” Frowning a bit, Celestia reached out both wings and began to shape suds around Gosling's muzzle. After a moment, she clucked her tongue, and said, “There, the beard makes you look wiser. I like this look on you.”

“Celestia, I’m sorry, but there will always be a part of my mind that thinks of you as my princess, and that part of my mind will always worry.” He felt his stomach tighten from a strange mix of arousal, tension, and worry. The sudsy beard upon his face began to slip down the drain a few bubbles at a time, and he looked up at the big mare beside him in the shower.

“And I always worry about disappointing my husband… about letting him down. I worry about being too tired, too exhausted to be enthusiastic, and I constantly fret that one day, he might notice, and he might think, ‘she doesn’t want me any more.’ And I live in fear of that day, that we might grow distant. I too, have fears and worries, Gosling, and I hope you never forget that.”

“Worries.” Gosling didn’t know what else to say, and his lone word hung there, like a suspended brick, waiting to fall.

“Now, Gosling, your teacher wishes to see you after class…”

Gosling saw the strangest chariot ever. It was little more than a frame, a skeleton, and the wheels had rubber tires on them. It was still being assembled by a unicorn under Purple Party’s command, and Beans watched with great interest. The chariot was designed for indoor racing inside of a hippodrome. It was made for speed, for maneuverability, and the rubber tires would keep the floors from getting damaged. The only real concern were skidmarks.

But skidmarks were always a concern for ponies.

How and why Purple Party had access to hippodrome racing chariots was unknown, and Gosling didn’t ask. He stood nearby, rubbing his chin, and wearing the non-Euclopean sweater that Luna had knitted for him. A passing observer might see him and think him unhinged, and they would be correct, for the most part. The morning report had been stressful, and Gosling was looking forward to blowing off some steam.

“‘At’ll stretch yer legs,” Toast said to her brother with a nod. She was holding up a special black rubber racing shoe that slipped over the hoof, something designed to keep traction on smooth floors. “Nopony told me that wearing rubbers would be part of the job.”

Several of the gathered ponies began to snicker, including Gosling.

“I think my associate is almost finished. While it is quite unorthodox, I do believe this method will allow us to get everything done in the time that we have. All that is left to do now is a test drive.” Purple Party reached up with his foreleg, rubbed at his neck, and nodded. “Yes, I do believe this will work.”

“So, after we do some tests with the first chariot, we’ll construct the others and go all out?” Gosling asked while he watched.

“Correct.” Purple Party gave Gosling a warm, sincere smile. “No sense wasting effort. That said, I am confident that this will produce the desired results.”

“Marm went and changed the configuration of the castle last night,” Beans said while his ears pivoted about. “I can’t even imagine how much of a magical expenditure that must be, or how hungry it would make you—”

Gosling knew exactly how hungry that could make a pony.

“—but now we have a slightly wider central hallway and a few wider servant’s arteries we can work with. It’ll be quite a run, though. Marm has also opened up a few of the bigger halls, so they can be rented out for private parties and such. We’ll have access to a bit of extra coin if we need it, or so I reckon.”

It wouldn’t be long now...

Princess Celestia sat on a cushion, surrounded by quite a number of curious, inquisitive little foals. Today, this class might prove to be exciting, or it might be a total dud, for today was the day that Blueblood tried his hoof at teaching. She had been looking forwards to this day for quite some time, and she hoped that Blueblood had also had some excitement for what this day might bring. Since retiring from many of his public duties, Blueblood had taken up other roles—many of which couldn’t be mentioned in an official capacity—and at her insistence, he was willing to try teaching as well.

He appeared to be quite calm, but Celestia knew him. She had almost raised him after all, and she could read him like a book—sometimes. Poor Blueblood was in an unfamiliar environment with ponies—foals—that he had no intelligence files about, and no real means of control or manipulation. But he was doing fine, and she did her best to keep the amused expression off of her face, knowing full well that it would serve as a distraction.

“Who can tell me what civilisation is?” Blueblood asked, starting the class with a question.

Always a good start, in Celestia’s opinion. Engage them with a question.

“Equestria?” one timid little colt answered.

Blueblood’s expression was one of gentle patience, and Celestia heaved a sigh of relief. Today, his grating, sarcastic persona was stashed in a closet, and the Blueblood that she adored, that she treasured, the Blueblood that was one of the crown jewels in her empire, he was running the class. Everything was going splendidly. In a civics class, Blueblood was fit to be king, and there was nopony that Celestia could think of that knew more about civil policy than Blueblood. Of course, it remains to be seen if he could be a good teacher.

“Equestria is a civilisation, one of many.” Blueblood’s voice was just loud enough, but not too loud, little foals spooked without much effort, and were even more prone to doing so when nervous or uncertain. “But what is a civilisation, and how does it come to be?”

Her eyes darted around the room, watching as many little ears perked, and Celestia had high hopes. There were many blank backsides in this room, territory just waiting to be staked out, claimed, and she hoped for at least a few cutie marks. The room was ripe with promise, pregnant with it, and she could feel the magic that gave destinies a nudge already at work.

When nopony answered, Blueblood began his lecture.

“Civilisation is a freshly plowed field where there once used to be brambles, marsh, and rampaging monsters. It is a safe road, stretching from said field to marketplace, free of peril. Civilisation is the warm light that shines from a farmhouse window, pushing back the darkness. Civilisation is what springs up around these farms, and the complicated relationships that form because they exist.”

“Like marriage? That kind of relationship?” A little filly spoke without raising her hoof.

“Very much like that,” Blueblood responded, “but so much more. Social contracts are a special kind of relationship, and the very foundation of civilisation. But rather than just tell you a meaningless blurb about social contracts, I am going to teach you about the one you are living in. Does that sound good?”

Many little heads nodded, and Celestia was pleased.

“Ponyville is a cradle of civilisation. Now, many might consider it backward, provincial, with its thatched roofs and plaster and beam construction. But Canterlot exists because of cities like Ponyville… and without Ponyville and places like it, our beautiful city, our shining jewel, it would go dark and civilisation would die out here.”

“How?” a colt asked. “Princess Celestia keeps us safe here.”

“Ah, Princess Celestia keeps us safe by keeping what keeps us alive safe.” Blueblood chuckled for a moment, his eyes were merry, and he was now quite animated, excited even. “Canterlot is a city of wizards, of merchants, soldiers, craftsponies, politicians, bureaucrats, and the like, and we all have one thing in common. Anypony care to make a guess as to what that is?”

“We’re ponies?” a filly replied.

“Well, beyond that.” Blueblood’s smile brightened.

“We all live up here,” the same filly said, “and they live down there?”

“None of us produce much in the way of food,” Blueblood said, his words warm, gentle, and engaging. “All of us who live in Canterlot are part of an evolved social class that can only exist in an advanced state of civilisation. Our farmers live in a comfortable, safe environment, one with stability, which lets them produce extra food. Every great thing we do begins and ends with the farmers who serve as the foundation of our great empire. We live in a time of unparalleled bounty, but this wasn’t always the case.”

Celestia remembered those lean days all too well, and her stomach gurgled, causing one foal to turn and stare with wide-eyed astonishment. With a gentle gesture of her wing, she made him turn around and pay attention to the lecture at hoof.

“With the abundance of food and safety, fewer ponies have to work to produce it. This allows some ponies to stop working the land altogether, and they can do other things. Like become wizards, and spend all of their time in study. Large armies can be mustered. Musicians and artists can be sponsored, giving birth to culture. Scholars are free to spend time in research, so that they might find new ways to make our society better.” Blueblood rested his front hooves upon the edge of the desk, leaned forwards, and asked, “Now, who can tell me what our great social order was called?”

“Feudalism,” many voices replied at once.

“Yes, Equestria rose to greatness due to our somewhat unique and rather benevolent feudalism. Canterlot stands as a testament, a monument to our great social contract. Much has changed, but there are still many places that hold to the feudalistic ideal, such as the Unicorn Range, the vast expanse of land to our west, where farmers toil in idyllic agrarian splendour, kept safe under the watchful eye of Canterlot. Places like Lulamoon Hollow exist as local seats of power, where governance takes place and Princess Celestia keeps soldiers garrisoned, so they can be deployed at the first sign of trouble.”

Overall, Celestia was pleased, and this was going far, far better than expected.

“So, what is civilisation?” Blueblood asked.

“Protecting the farmers,” a colt replied, “keeping the lights on in those farmhouses.”

“And how can you do that?” Blueblood’s eyebrow lifted, forming a graceful, perfect arch.

Then, it happened, the moment that Celestia was waiting for, was hoping for. A brilliant golden light flared, distracting all of the class, and the little colt who had answered with protecting the farmers now had his future revealed to him, and to his classmates. Craning her neck, she struggled to see what brilliant, glorious future awaited the colt, and she was just able to see over a filly’s frizzy mane to get a good look.

A set of scales was visible, with a sheaf of wheat on one side, and a pyramid pile of bricks on the other. It was a fine mark for the civic-minded, full of promise, and would allow the colt to embrace any number of great futures. She heaved a sigh that was drowned out by the cheering, the clapping, and the many congratulations. Blueblood had passed his exam, his test as a teacher, and Celestia was relieved.

For Blueblood had managed to inspire…

Author's Note

Next chapter... Canterlot Castle becomes a hippodrome.

Chapter 25

“Twilight Sparkle, you are looking well.” Celestia smiled, beaming with radiant sunshine, and looked down upon the much smaller alicorn. Twilight wore a scarf, a cap, and a smile warm enough to keep the winter chill away. “So, forgive me for asking, but have you found a date for the school holiday gala? As one of the alumni, perhaps our most successful alumna, you are expected to attend.” While she spoke, she saw the little alicorn’s face turn red, and she knew, she knew that her former student did not have a date. Her smile shrinking only just a little, Celestia heaved a sigh.

“I’m not involved with anypony,” Twilight said, almost—but not quite—stammering. Her scarf and hat vanished, stored away in some unseen, almost unknown coat room.

“Come, walk with me, little Miss Sparkle.” Celestia turned about, her stomach growling, begging for lunch, and she was pleased to hear the sound of rather dainty hooves clattering against the stone tiles just behind her, just as it had been when the mare had been her student. She wished that Twilight would pick up the pace and walk abreast, but Celestia said nothing. It was her most sincere hope that one day, Twilight would work up the courage to be her equal, but for now, Twilight was content to follow along behind, just as she had always done.

There were, however, times when her former student slipped up, due to excitement or some such reason, and would rush ahead while chattering away. Celestia treasured those moments most of all, as an excited, happy Twilight was also an endearing, adorable Twilight. It had also been great fun to watch the chattering filly bump into doors or walls, because she was too busy looking up and behind to pay attention to where it was that she was going.

“I do hope that Trixie makes it this year.”

“Celestia, I don’t think Trixie will come.”

“Why not, Twilight?” No doubt, her protégée was now chewing on her lip, wondering if she should reveal a private issue, and it took all of Celestia’s willpower to not look back over her withers at the little alicorn mare behind her.

“She’s having a rough time,” Twilight began, hesitant. “I mean, she’s hiding it well, and she’s holding together, she is doing an admirable job of that, but she’s staying with Tarnish right now so she can let her guard down and feel safe and not have to constantly worry about another foalnapping. She was on the verge of a breakdown when she finally decided to stay with Tarnish. But she is holding it together. She doesn’t want Sumac to worry or think anything is wrong. She is somehow giving him the illusion of normality, which might just make Trixie the greatest illusionist of our age.”

“Any word about Catrina?” Celestia asked in a low voice. “Anything from your network?”

“She has been sensed prowling around down near Appleloosa and Dodge City Junction.” Twilight’s voice also dropped, and a hardness manifested. “If she makes a move, if she thinks we’ve let our guard down, she will be in for quite a surprise. Tarnish has been bored, and knowing him, he’s just itching for a fight.”

“The Queen of the Bumbles is back in Manehattan,” Celestia said to Twilight. “Our intelligence is convinced of that, but we can’t actually find her. But she is looking for mercenaries and wizards for hire for some bit of dirty work. Sumac, no doubt.”

“Hmm, I don’t like that, not one bit.”

“I don’t like it either.” Celestia’s smile had a bit of difficulty, but somehow persisted. She kept her gaze forward, looking for holiday decorations in the halls. “Come, let us talk of more pleasant things, shall we?”

“Okay.”

“You could ask Seville to the gala, Twilight.”

“I couldn’t do that!” was the squeaked reply.

“Oh, come off it, Miss Sparkle. You’ve danced with him before. For all of your awkwardness, you liked it. Don’t you dare deny it.” This time, Celestia did look behind her, caught a glimpse of a flustered red face in the corner of her eye, and began to snicker. “I remember when you asked your father to the school dance—”

“Celestia!” Twilight whined out her teacher’s name and cringed.. “He said no. He was busy. End of story.”

“So you cried and you cried and you made your brother take you—”

“END OF STORY!” Not only did Twilight raise her voice, but her hooves now clopped against the floor with a heavy staccato rhythm.

“I have a framed picture in my study—”

“OH MY GOSH! WHY?” Somepony sounded mortified. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Because, you clinging to your brother’s leg while Cadance poses awkwardly in the background is a treasured memory. Plus, seeing Cadance smile while wearing braces is hilarious.” Celestia resumed looking forward with a toothy grin. “She pulled her lips away from her teeth for the photo when she smiled… she didn’t look natural. There was something unsettling about her, like a shark.” Behind her, Celestia heard giggling and knew that everything was going to be fine.

“Shining Armor really is the best big brother ever.” Twilight pranced along, picking up her pace, and pulled up abreast to Celestia. “I can’t believe he put up with me… he’s always been so… good to… me.”

Hearing distress in her former student’s voice, she asked, “Are you okay, Twilight?”

“The night of the school gala, my parents were out of town.” There was a long pause when Twilight made the connection, and she sucked in a deep breath. “No doubt, my brother was looking forwards to spending time with Cadance… spending time alone with her… with my parents out of town. Now that I’m grown up, well, you get the idea. My brother had plans, really important plans, and he gave them up for me.”

This realisation almost gave Celestia the giggles, but she somehow contained herself. Twilight had realised what her brother had given up, but had she made the connection as to why her parents went out of town on that weekend? At her own insistence, the two lovebirds had gone on a little much needed vacation, and had stayed in one of Celestia’s private cottages, a secluded location hidden far away from civilisation. Cottages in which she seldom stayed in.

Coming to an intersection in the hallway, Celestia paused, hearing quite a clatter. Yes, yes, a commotion was coming this way. Ears perking, Celestia wondered if what she was hearing was a guard running down the hallway, maybe because they were in a hurry? This was more than a ruckus; it was approaching a full blown cacophony.

“HUZZAH!”

That single utterance was enough to cause Celestia’s blood to curdle in her veins—very much like milk left out in a bucket under her sun—and she backed up to where Twilight had already stopped.

“Sodding git!” a feminine voice cried out, and echoed through the halls.

Then, Celestia saw it. Two chariots approached, and in them were Gosling and Luna, along with two older foals. Beans was with Gosling, and Toast was with Luna. The twins were taking whacks at one another with padded batons, the kind the guard used for training. Two guardsponies were pulling each chariot, four unlucky privates no doubt press ganged into service by two decadent, depraved royals. The chariots smacked, banged, and clattered against one another in a high speed fight for dominance.

It was a classic race of colts versus fillies, stallions against mares. Sparks flew from the chariots’ wheel hubs as they clanged together, and Beans took an opportunistic whack at his sister’s head with his foam-padded baton. The chariots went whooshing by, and all Celestia could do was stand there, stunned, with her mouth hanging open.

“You manky, good for nothing honker!” Toast screeched at her twin brother. “I’ll do you for that!”

“I think not!” Beans took another whack at his sister, but clobbered Luna instead.

The chariots departed with the squealing of rubber tires against the stone tile floor, leaving Celestia standing there with her mouth agape. Beside her, the smaller alicorn watched the chariots go, the little mare’s mouth was a perfect round ‘O’ of startled surprise. A sharp corner was coming; Celestia could not bear to watch, but she could not look away, either. Gosling would be on the inside of the corner, and she expected him to make his move, if he was smart.

“Hey, Twilight, are you up for a race?”

“No!” The voice that replied was more of a frightened whinny than anything else.

A sincere sense of disappointment settled over Celestia, like an incontinent raincloud just itching to ruin a picnic. Twilight was just not the sort of pony who would have chariot races in her castle. As for herself, Celestia was almost certain that she could fix the economy if she charged for admission. Somehow, the two charioteers took the sharp corner without crashing, and Gosling did indeed pull ahead. As his teacher, Celestia was proud of her student.

Plus, Luna was annoying and needed to be knocked down a peg. All that huzzah-ing got on a pony’s last nerve.

“I envy them,” Celestia said, and she was all too aware of how wistful she sounded.

“You what?” Twilight asked.

“I envy them,” Celestia repeated, this time sounding even more wistful. “Gosling and I are lovers… while we do play around, most of our play is foreplay.” She sighed, shook her head, and ignored Twilight’s red cheeks and flatulent, lip-flapping sputtering. “Gosling and Luna though… besties. Best friends. Playmates. There is no sex to get in the way of a good time, no performance anxiety… they are free to play without reservation. And I envy them, Twilight.”

“I don’t… I don’t… I don’t understand…” Twilight stammered, and her words trailed off.

“Twilight… in every pony’s life, there is a time when they are innocent. They are free to play. On the odd occasion where a little colt and a little filly do play with one another, they can do so free of complication and tension. It is a magical, wonderful time in a pony’s life. Then, at some point, sexual desire awakens, and play becomes something else entirely. In my many long years, I have watched this happen, time and time again, and still I constantly mourn the passing of innocence in my students as play becomes charged with sexual tension.”

“Bwhah,” Twilight bwhahed, exhaling and almost—but not quite—forming a word. Having suffered utter failure, she stood there, bwhah-ing over and over, perhaps hoping that practice might make perfect.

“One day, Twilight, you too shall notice this in your own students.” Celestia looked down at Twilight, winked, and clucked her tongue before adding, “Keep an eye on Sumac and Pebble. Those special, tender relationships always start early, just like for your parents.”

“UGH, NO!” Twilight squeezed her eyes shut.

“Your dad used to walk around on his front hooves to impress your mother.” A wide grin appeared once more on Celestia’s face. “She used to push him over and laugh at him. For some reason, I like to imagine that Night Light still likes to walk on his front hooves to impress little Twilight Velvet—”

“NO!” Twilight’s eyes flew open and she now bore an expression of manic fright.

“One time, little Dandelia, she cast a grease spell and your father went skating around, fighting to keep his balance, still desperately trying to impress both little fillies. He went shooting right past me on his two front hooves, looking terrified. He had this awful, pleading expression on his face. He knew that he couldn’t blow it, not if he wanted a chance with both of them.”

Twilight Sparkle burst out laughing so hard that she started wheezing.

“One day, Twilight, you will watch young love bloom, and it will become something you cherish. It means that your subjects are making new subjects. The more love that is fostered, the greater the prosperity and growth you will have in your demesne.” Celestia slipped from teasing to teaching with no effort at all. “You will look forwards to infatuation and crushes in your school. You will learn to cultivate it, to encourage it without encouraging it, and you will learn the fine art of restriction, saying no just enough that they rebel against you to do it anyway, and in these conditions, if you are lucky, the sort of love that blossoms will last a lifetime.”

At these words, Twilight fell silent, and her ears stood straight up.

“You should never make it too easy on them, Twilight, you have to make those first tender moments in love challenging and difficult. Like with anything else in life, little lovebirds need to feel a sense of accomplishment… that their love is meaningful, and worth taking risks. It is one of the most difficult things you will ever have to learn. Too little risk, and you get little fly-by-nighters that go from filly to filly, breaking hearts, and little fillies that lead little colts along, teasing them endlessly.”

Celestia turned her head and looked down into Twilight’s eyes.

“Too much restriction, and you crush a tender bloom. But if you do it right, you’ll have little lovebirds like your parents, who will stay together for the entirety of their lives. If you can do this with the coming generation that you are educating, Ponyville will prosper.”

“Thank you…” Twilight breathed the words, and her head bobbed up and down. “This actually means quite a lot coming from you… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Celestia gave the smaller mare beside her a loving nudge with her wing. “I do this for the benefit of our empire… if you prosper, all of Equestria prospers with you. Come, let us get lunch, and maybe we can continue this enlightening conversation. It’ll be like old times.”

“I’d like that… I miss the old times,” Twilight replied.

Author's Note

Sorry for the delay. I had to separate each line and manually insert spaces between the paragraphs. I am hoping that this will work, and that the page will be readable. If I screwed up or broke a paragraph in the wrong place, let me know.

Chapter 26

Nopony liked losing, and Princess Luna most of all. Yet, even with her severe dislike of losing, she was known to be a gracious loser. Some ponies loved to win, and Gosling—being like most ponies—fell among their number. As there were gracious losers, there were also the opposites, the gracious winner. While Gosling and Luna stared at each other in profound silence, Beans and Toast were busy helping to sort each other out after the conflict.

“Honestly, I thought you had me during the long stretch,” Gosling said, ending the silence after his victory with a few well chosen, sincere words.

An amused expression appeared on Luna’s face, which caused one eyebrow to arch ever-so-slightly. She shuffled on her hooves, her graceful head making nuanced nods, and it was obvious to anypony watching that she was enjoying herself. “We do appreciate you being a good sport. Now, there is the matter of our wager.”

“Oh, that.” For a brief second, Gosling’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t feel comfortable with that, you don’t have to. No obligation.”

“We do so appreciate your thoughtfulness for Our well being.” Stretching out her neck, Luna lowered her head a bit, her ears pinned back, and with a surprising calm, she planted a loitering smooch upon Gosling’s cheek, right on the hard corner of his jaw. It took several seconds before she pulled away, and when she did, she was smiling. “That was hard won. Savour it, Gosling.”

“I shall.” Allowing himself a bit of flippancy, Gosling waggled his eyebrows, which earned him a snort from his stand-offish companion. With a quick return to exquisite manners he asked, “May I have the privilege of escorting you to lunch?”

“Sadly, no. There are things We must attend to, and We have already been lax in Our duties so that We might spend time with somepony special to Us. Perhaps we shall meet later under more favourable circumstances. Will you have Us for supper?”

“I’d love to have a double portion of you for supper,” Gosling said.

The red that blossomed in Luna’s cheeks made her face take on a dusky purple hue.

“Go on, get out of here, yous gots stuff to do.” He grinned, delighting in how flustered Luna was, and then continued, “I’m starving… and I should not have slacked off this morning. Now I gotta work twice as hard this afternoon. See ya later, Moonshine.”

And with that, Gosling made his exit, knowing full well the value of leaving a mare wanting.

“Gosling!”

The pretty pegasus paused, delighting in the fact that mares shouted his name when he entered the room. He basked in his own glory, but only for a moment, and then trotted over to the table to sit down. Cadance had said his name, and she was grinning from ear to ear. Twilight was here, sitting right next to Celestia, sitting in his spot. A word would have to be had with Twilight. A kind, but firm word.

“Just the pony I wanted to see,” Cadance said while Gosling trotted to his seat. “I need a foalsitter for Flurry.”

“Where’s my mom?” Gosling asked.

“Having a much needed break. I sent her to the spa for a full treatment.” Cadance looked entirely too happy about this turn of events, and beside her, Shining Armor had a problem holding in his little snorts of laughter. She elbowed her husband and then added, “Come on, Gosling. It will be no real trouble. Surely, if you have time to race chariots around the castle with Auntie Luna, you have the time to look after Flurry.”

“You did this!” Gosling leveled an accusing stare on the white alicorn sitting next to the much smaller lavender one. “You set me up!” This got the smaller purple alicorn tittering, and when she covered her mouth with one hoof, Gosling raised an eyebrow for full effect.

“I did no such thing.” The merest hint of a smile graced Celestia’s beatific face.

“You no want me?” Flurry’s voice had a dreadful quaver to it.

Flouncing himself into a chair, Gosling let out a huff as he leaned forwards, and his forelegs came to rest along the table’s edge. “I can do it. Beans and Toast can help, I suppose. I was planning on picking up the slack this afternoon because I messed around this morning. Luna was in one of those rare moods and I wanted to see her happy.”

“Priorities.” Cadance didn’t sound like she was joking when she said the word, and her demeanour had a dramatic change. She too, leaned forwards, and her forelegs came to rest against the table. With the way her eyes narrowed, Cadance almost looked predatory. “Where is Auntie Luna, anyhow?”

“Skipping lunch to get work done,” Gosling replied, and his ears pitched when Cadance let out a worried-sounding half-growl, half-groan. Ignoring Cadance, he turned and looked Seville in the eye. “How’s your morning, you mug?”

“Me, I got stuff done,” Seville replied, and he sounded tired. “Which reminds me, I’m gonna need some help converting the old brig into the new film and print office.”

“Things are tight and hectic right now… help will come eventually.” Raven pulled her face away from a report on a clipboard. “I understand the importance, but it is low priority.”

“Yet you expect me to get work done now.” Seville, not as meek as he once was, knew how things worked in the castle. “If you expect me to get everything done that you want done, then I need some help. Otherwise, things will slow down and there will be delays. I can’t prevent that.”

“We can’t have things slow down, the release schedule must be kept.” Raven began to gnaw on her lip, and then her face vanished behind her clipboard. After a few seconds, she murmured, “I’ll get back to you later this afternoon. We need that propaganda on the front.”

“It’s not propaganda…” Seville let out an annoyed sniff and tossed his head to get his mane out of his eyes. “It is an instructional, educational film on the Equestrian way of life and the benefits of having Equestria as a protectorate. Every word said is true, honest, and sincere. My integrity won’t allow falsehood or half-truth.”

“Excellent propaganda then, the very best kind, the highest quality.” Raven clucked her tongue from behind her clipboard. “The kind that Equestria needs most of all as we gear up for the coming conflict. Sharp truth, like a sharp blade, leaves behind the deepest cuts.”

“I love it when you talk dirty, dear,” Blueblood remarked to Raven, and she ignored him.

Nudging his friend, Gosling tried to cheer Seville up. “Hey, you do good work. Nopony is questioning your integrity, Seville.” When his friend snorted, Gosling lifted his head and looked around. “Hey, where’s lunch? I’m starving! Do we want another Nightmare Noon incident? Let’s shake a leg, ponies!”

Trying to keep a straight face, Gosling looked upon his army. Some were young, far too young, like Flurry. There were many school-aged foals here, with bright, eager faces. Some were far too old, having seen far too many winters. Old soldiers approaching retirement or having reached it made up the bulk of his army. Gosling made a mental note to treat them with as much respect as possible, so they might be useful to him later.

There were also quite a number of green recruits, waiting for the spring thaw to begin their real training. They were able bodied, and would make excellent chariot pullers. This was also a grand time for them to learn about supply and logistics, transport, and the distribution of goods. It was Gosling’s most sincere hope that these ponies, these green recruits, would use this opportunity to learn.

“We’re going to do the impossible,” Gosling said to his army, “and we’ll do it in service to our beloved alicorns. We have some decorations, and we’re going to distribute those. We need to have a lot of decorations made, too. So you little ones are going work with Hazy Breeze and Soprano Summers to make a whole slew of pretty stuff.”

“Aye aye!” A little unicorn colt raised his foreleg in a ground pounder’s salute.

“This will be our central supply depot.” Gosling looked around the room, at the ponies, at the supplies, at the many boxes, and the chariots too. There was a lot to look at, a lot to take in, and for the first time, he began to understand the enormity of his task. “The decorating teams will travel out from this place on chariot to cover the distances, they will saturate a room with as much holiday cheer as is equinely possible, and then they will return here to fetch more supplies for another excursion. If you don’t know what to do, talk to Mister Purple Party, and I am positive that he can sort out any problems that you might have.”

One old soldier turned to look at a far, far younger recruit and said, “This is a proud moment, son. Put some starch in your stance, you lazy git!”

The younger pony snapped to attention, doing his best to look bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Moving with a smooth sashay, Gosling ventured over and began doing a rudimentary inspection, looking into eyes and faces of those gathered. A few that he passed had to be the very youngest age allowed, fourteen, and he could see the fear they tried to hide. He remembered all too well the fear, the need to make a good impression.

Relaxing, he smiled, hoping to put them at ease. “I have hopes that this exercise will reveal some talent… some skill… and might help you find your place in the guard. We need more than soldiers… I’m looking for the best and the brightest to join my own division…”

He paused to allow his words to sink in, having learned all about dramatic effect.

“The Equestrian Corps of Gringineers.” Somehow, he kept a straight face during the many snickers that erupted. Turning about, he asked, “Something funny, Private?”

“Sir, no, Sir!” the caught off-guard private replied as he was kicked in the leg by his elder superiour beside him.

“I think you’re lying!” Gosling shouted while he got up in the face of a pony that was about his own age. “It’s supposed to be funny! What’s wrong with you?”

“Sir, I am very confused, Sir!” After a long pause, he added, “Your Majesty?”

“Eh, you’ll be fine, kid.” Gosling pulled away, looked left, looked right, and then with the widest grin he could muster, he said, “Let’s get to work! We have a war to wage!”

“—you know, Twilight, I didn’t think this would work. I am pleasantly surprised.”

Confused, Twilight responded by saying, “I don’t follow.”

Her own response had to wait while a chariot went racing by and Celestia watched one of her precious students hanging on for dear life. She smiled, sensing that valuable life lessons were being learned. “All of this. I have done things my way for so long, that sometimes I neglect to consider that other ponies have their own way of doing things… and those ways, while different, can be just as good. Take you, for example. You have your own way of doing things, and I have had to step back and let you work.”

“Hmm.” Twilight looked thoughtful.

“A good leader is one that assigns command and then gets out of the way so it can be done, or so it has been said.” Celestia felt a tightness in her throat, and she had to control her own fluttery emotions. “I’ve been burned by that, Twilight. I have been burned by that and almost all of Equestria burnt down because of that. Civil war. I stepped back and let others lead. For me… this was a recent event… for you… this was something you’ve read in a history book. For me, it is still very fresh in my mind.”

“There’s a lesson here,” Twilight remarked.

“Oh, Twilight, there are many lessons to be learned here.” Celestia spread her wings, hoping for a cooling draft along her ribs and her wingpits. She was hot, sweaty, flustered, and emotional. “Once more, I am stepping back to allow others to rule. Cadance is doing an admirable job, and she is modernising the Crystal Empire, even though they resist her efforts. I do believe this next generation that she guides into prosperity will remember her as the Enlightened Empress. In time, I am hoping that her rule will not have to be so… absolute.”

“They’re a thousand years behind the times.”

“Yes, Twilight, they are.” With a turn of her head, she looked down at her former student, who had that peculiar look of eagerness, that desire to learn the lesson, whatever it might be. “Gosling had a crackpot idea. It was an idea born of utter lunacy, a ridiculous notion, and I let him go through with it because I wanted him to learn something. I thought that, perhaps, he might learn that not all ideas are good ones. I figured that he might have a tough time coming to terms with practicality. Something tells me that Gosling will not be learning any of those lessons. Mark my words, he’ll be strutting later, and wanting his ego stroked.”

“So, the lesson here is, when one of my trusted advisors, like say, Trixie comes up to me with what seems like a half-baked idea, I should listen to them?” Twilight looked stumped.

“Weigh the risks and rewards, Twilight,” Celestia replied. “Letting Gosling attempt his idea was no real risk, no real serious risk, but there were gains to be made. Not every crazy idea should be entertained, but when you need to pull off a miracle, and the cost of failure isn’t too much to bear, what do you have to lose?”

Twilight Sparkle did not respond at all, but stood there in silence, staring at the construction paper decorations adorning the hallway. They were simple decorations, true, but much heartfelt effort had gone into their creation, and something about them was every bit as cheerful as store-bought decorations.

“Even if those ideas don’t work out, you should not give up hope, Twilight Sparkle. It has been a hard, hard lesson for me… to trust, and keep trusting. To share power… to share vision with both you and Cadance. I had to trust that you wouldn’t burn down my beloved country that I’ve worked so hard to preserve. There are many lessons to be learned here, my friend.”

“Wait!” Twilight cried out in alarm. “Let me get my notepad before you keep going!”

Author's Note

Trixie has plans for Ponyville! :trixieshiftright:

Chapter 27

Coming round the corner, Gosling happened upon a troubling sight. Not long before, he had gone racing past in a chariot, and he had seen a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. Something about it had compelled him, it had seized his attention, and now, he had to see if Luna was okay. She was sitting on the floor, which was kind of unusual for her to do in such a public space, but it was also how she was sitting on the floor. Her legs were kicked out in a haphazard manner, her posture was awful, and her wings were limp against her sides.

She sat staring up at a stained glass window that showed Nightmare Moon’s defeat and Luna’s subsequent rebirth as a filly. While he approached with caution, he too found himself staring at the coloured glass representations of both Nightmare Moon and Luna. She did not look at him during his approach, but she did sigh.

“We art a liar,” Luna said to Gosling as he sat down beside her.

“Okay, what is bothering you now.” Feeling warm and snug in his sweater, he scooted a little closer to the mare beside him, approaching her as one might approach a cactus. He was tired, but in a good way, and felt accomplished. Turning his head, he tried to study Luna’s face, but suffered from a form of expressional-dyslexia of a sort. Whatever language Luna’s face was written in was now a jumble.

Reaching out a foreleg, Gosling tried to place it over Luna’s withers, but she pulled away. He persisted, understanding how this game was played, and she squirmed even harder beneath his touch. Feeling somewhat annoyed, he made his feelings known: “I won’t stop until you tell me no.”

A wordless whine slipped from Luna’s lips and she plot-walked away from Gosling, using her powerful butt muscles to scooch away. Undaunted, Gosling followed after in a slow motion plot-wiggling pursuit that contained a lot of flexing, wiggly-jiggly, rippling buttocks. The absurdity of it all would have been amusing if Luna wasn’t so depressed.

“We don’t like telling you no,” Luna whined while she wiggled away and her dock wagged from side to side with her efforts. “We feel guilty—”

“Fine then, I’m hugging you.” Redoubling his efforts, he hooked his foreleg around the delicate crook of Luna’s neck, the soft curve where it met her withers. She resisted, of course she did, but he understood that in this particular instance, she wanted to be held, but she couldn’t just come right out and say it. She wiggled and squirmed a bit more, then went still. When the fight seemed gone, he pulled her close, and then just sat there, trying to be her friend.

“Let Us go.”

“Tell me no.”

“Sometimes, you are loathsome.”

“And if you would just say no, I would let go of you. You know the rules by now.” Not caring that she would be angry, he squeezed a little tighter, hard enough that he could now feel her heart thump-bump-bumping away beneath her ribs. “I am forced to operate under the assumption that you want to be cuddled and held. There is no way I can physically overpower you, because you could crush me without effort. The only clear way for me to understand that you don’t want to be held, cuddled, or snuggled is for you to say no to me. We worked this out with Cadance and you agreed to it. So, tell me no.”

“Nyah,” Luna whined, and she pulled her head away.

“That wasn’t a no.”

“We are upset. We are having a moment. We are unhappy right now.”

That much was obvious to Gosling. He glanced up at the stained glass window, looked at the rainbow beams coming off of the Elements of Harmony, and with dread, his eyes focused upon the terrible black form of Nightmare Moon. Not that long ago, he feared that he had lost his friend to the Nightmare once more. He was still troubled, even though he had tried to avoid thinking about it.

“What’s bothering you?” Gosling asked.

“Mine sister,” Luna replied.

“Did you bicker?”

“Not recently.”

“How far back are we talking?”

“A very long time indeed.”

Sighing, Gosling prepared for a history lesson, and he pulled Luna a little closer. She did not resist, so he figured that she was warming up to him. Or was at least accepting his attempt to comfort her. She wasn’t so different from any other pony, really, but she had a hard, hard time with affection. Luna was the end result of her cutie marks: on one side, the moon was waning, and on the other, waxing. Her moods, ever mercurial, wreaked havoc upon her mind. Gosling had sympathy for her—something that was almost pity—but he kept his feelings to himself, never revealing them to Luna, because then she would be angry.

Destiny, fate, whatever one chose to call it, had not been kind to Luna, and she was the victim of her mark. Gosling was thankful that his mark wasn’t complicated; a rubber duckie was an easy mark to live with, with no conceivable complications waiting to manifest. When Gosling became aware of the silence, he knew that Luna would not make this easy, and he was going to have to struggle to get the words out of her.

So be it.

“What set you off?” he asked while he continued to examine the stained glass.

“Mine sister was a brat,” Luna replied, and her lower lip began to protrude in a foalish sort of way. “Even worse, she was a prophetic brat. She knew.”

“I don’t follow. Look, Luna, I can’t read minds. You have to start filling me in on these things you say, otherwise, I can’t help you.”

For a brief second, Luna trembled, and she appeared to have bitten into a lemon.

Patient, Gosling waited, showing remarkable forbearance for a colt his age. Luna wasn’t talking—she was just sitting there making faces—and he tried to think of all of the things that Cadance had suggested that he do to batter down Luna’s impenetrable walls. His blue wife lived in a secluded, near-impervious fortress, and if he wanted to visit, he had to find his own way in.

“Say, you wanna go have some freaky, angry circus sex?” Gosling asked. “We could dress up in animal costumes.”

It took Luna at least ten full seconds to process what had been said, and the entire time she did amazing facial gymnastics while his words burrowed into her brain. When at last they reached the center of her mind, she reacted: “NO!” she cried in disgust.

“Well then, start talking.”

“We shall talk on our own terms—”

“Circus sex,” Gosling said in the most sultry, threatening voice he could muster.

“Stain! Mine sister called me... Stain! She was just so.. so… mean!” Luna’s voice was strained, and her eyes glimmered with the tears she struggled to hold in. “She was right, just like she is always right! I was a stain, and the stain overtook me.”

Ears perking, Gosling took notice of Luna’s language patterns falling apart. She was leaning against him now, shaking, and he could hear the wind almost whistling in her nostrils. Turning his head, he dared to look at her, even though he knew that this might be what set her off. It was a risk he had to take.

“It haunts me, even now. Her words… how they came true. Right now, We are obsessing over them, I can hear them in mine ears, and I can hear echoes of her mocking laughter. She was dreadful! Dreadful!” Luna began to sniffle, and then, with a shrill whinnying whine, she slumped over against Gosling. The sudden shift of her weight almost drove him to the floor, and his eyes bulged as he strained to remain upright.

He almost said something, but swallowed the words, as he knew nothing of siblings, and it would be a real strain to say anything anyway with all of the weight bearing down upon him. Whatever he might have said would have been patronising, and that was a surefire way to drive Luna to wrath. It was something he had to avoid at all costs if he ever hoped to have any chance of getting through to her.

“You would dress up in animal costumes to please me?” Luna asked in a cracking whisper.

“Well… I guess… maybe?” Gosling responded, taken aback by Luna’s question. He shifted his body so he could draw breath a little easier, and then gulped in some much needed air.

“A lot of ponies dream about that you know… there are so many that long to be something else… like me. I am not comfortable in mine own skin. There are times I long to be something else. Something not me. These dreams, they fascinate me, and I enjoy entering them.”

The raw vulnerability in Luna’s words tugged on his heartstrings, and Gosling waited to hear more. She was heavy against him, warm, and he found himself looking into her eyes. He secured his grip around her, needing her closer. He was a colt, she was a mare, and he needed possession of her. Without even realising it, he slipped from gentle comforter to a more aggressive something else. Whatever he had become, it wasn’t defined, but he liked it, he liked the feeling, and he reveled in it. She offered no resistance now, and he was free to cuddle without consequence.

“We get troubled… I get troubled… sometimes, these memories, they lodge themselves in mine mind like slivers, and I cannot pull them out. I tried once, I tried to remove these painful memories, and there were consequences. I do not understand the how, nor the why, but as I tried to cure mineself of this dreadful condition of memory, the stench of ink flooded mine nostrils, and everything I tried to remove, everything I tried to correct, it came back in a flood and overwhelmed me.”

“That’s a little weird.” Gosling pressed his muzzle against Luna’s neck. He felt the whole of her body tense, she jerked in his embrace, and when he began to rub his snoot up and down against the slender curve of her neck, she made a soft mewling sound that was unfamiliar to him. After a moment, she relaxed a bit, and he felt one of her forelegs slipping around his neck.

“I wish to love mine sister.” Luna’s whispered confession made Gosling’s ear twitch. “I want so very much to love her the way she loves me now. But these memories… me… I still hate mineself too much to be able to love her… or anypony… I’m sorry, Gosling.”

His foreleg slipped from her neck, down her withers, caressed a wing on its way down, and slid along her knobby spine that was buried beneath the most luxurious blue velvet. When he reached her soft, supple middle, just below her ribs and just above her hips, he squeezed, pulling her close, and he pressed the pad of his snoot deeper into the flesh of her neck.

She was intoxicating.

“If you want me right now, We will not say no,” Luna whispered. “We would lay with you willingly and allow you to vent your frustrations upon Us. It would be a purely physical act. I could give you my body, but I am not yet willing to give you my mind. We are sorry.”

Gosling was tempted—of course he was—but he had faced temptation before and survived it. Still, he lingered, and with his teeth, he began nipping along the soft flesh of Luna’s neck, an action once used to crush fleas and parasites, but now done for affection. She wasn’t saying no, and he wasn’t saying yes. For now, this sexual limbo was fine, and when Luna shuddered against him, he reveled in the control he now had over her body.

The sound of his teeth clicking together against her neck continued unabated.

Then, showing remarkable self-restraint, he stopped. Still holding her, he kept her close, but he pulled his muzzle away from her neck. He sighed, a satisfied sound, and then he just sat there, content to be near her, to be her friend. Of course, the fact that Luna was now a delightful shade of purple was amusing, but he felt no need to tease her about it at the moment.

“She called you stain because of those black spots, right?”

Her purple cheeks almost glowing, Luna nodded.

“I like those black spots,” he remarked.

“Are you going to keep going?” Luna asked.

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow and did his best to look as innocent as possible.

“The neck nibbling and the groping…” Her words trailed off, and when she swallowed, it was quite loud. The scent of mare musk was noticeable now.

“Seems pointless—”

“Pointless?” Luna sounded indignant. “How is it pointless?”

“Well, no matter how deep I stick it in ya, I can’t reach the place where I’d really like to be.” His words made Luna bite her lip, and Gosling allowed himself to enjoy her visceral reactions. “When I take you, I want all of you, not just the wet, slippery sexy place that I can stick my weewee into.”

Rolling her eyes, Luna shook her head. “How juvenile. How… crass.”

“I might be juvenile, but right now, I am not the one leaving a wet spot on the carpet.”

With a gasp, Luna’s mouth fell open, and she stared in shock.

“I too, am a stain.” Gosling’s confidence made him beam. “I got teased all the time because of my markings. Being dappled made me a target when I was little. But as I got older… I stopped letting it bother me. I learned how to strut my stuff, and ponies paid attention. The sooner you stop thinking of yourself as a stain, and start strutting your stuff, the better you will feel. And you need to trust me when I say, you got stuff to strut. My longing for the stuff you have to strut circles the shower drain a few times before it finally goes down, and I think about the stuff you can strut every day.”

“You are depraved…”

“And you are aroused, so I must be doing something right.”

“We art going to take a shower,” Luna announced, and then she rose, pulling away from Gosling’s somewhat moist embrace. Sweaty, disheveled, her feathers now messy, she shuddered. “We art leaving! A good even to thee!” Like any mare might do, she tossed her head back to throw her mane around, but it had no effect other than making her look like she might sneeze at any moment.

Still grinning, Gosling hated to see her leave, but he loved to watch her go.

Author's Note

Heavy petting and seat wetting.

Chapter 28

“—it’s funny that you should ask about that, Twilight. You see, the animosity between ponies and dragons began when one very smart dragon convinced one exceptionally dumb pony that rubbing butter all over their pelt would leave them shiny, sleek, and beautiful.” Pausing, but only to draw breath, Celestia ignored Twilight’s stupefied blank stare, and kept going. “All of a sudden, butter farmers became rather well to do, as there was a market run on butter, you see. Ponies were rubbing themselves down in butter, slathering themselves, and they were, indeed, sleek and shiny.”

Raven, sitting across the table, held up her hoof so she could snigger behind it.

“And then one day, this smart dragon shows up, he breathes a little fire, and he has himself a fine meal of hot, buttered ponies. Self-buttered ponies. This destroyed the dairy market, you see, and I was livid. And from that point onwards, there has been some mistrust between us and the dragons.”

“Auntie,” Blueblood said, raising one fine, well-groomed eyebrow. “You forgot the part where the ponies ate bread and apples, so they would be self-stuffed when roasted.”

“And the institution of marriage was threatened because colts had trouble catching greasy, buttery fillies.” Raven pulled her hoof away, and made a dismissive wave. “I love this story, it’s amazing. It was always a great day in school when she told it.”

Blinking once, Twilight recovered, but only just a little. “I can’t even right now…” she murmured, and then she shook her head from side to side, staring up at her mentor with wide, confuzzled eyes. With each slow, deliberate blink, her mental status seemed to be slipping more and more.

“Mmm, butter,” Raven said, and there was a sultry note of longing in her voice.

“Later,” Blueblood said, and something about his lone-spoken word made it sound like a promise.

“Gross!” Twilight whined, and she sounded like a creaky-voiced filly once more.

In a moment that defied her serene, composed character, Celestia let out a throaty laugh…

She was still laughing when Gosling sashayed into the dining room, and laughed even harder when Raven muttered something about butter. He didn’t do his usual pause in the doorway, waiting for adoration, but rather came sauntering right over to where Celestia was sitting. The laughter came to an abrupt end when she noticed the expression on his face.

“You need to go and apologise to your sister,” Gosling said in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

“For what?” Celestia asked.

“Something you said a long, long time ago. It’s still bugging her. It still hurts her. She thinks you were being prophetic when you called her—ahem—Stain.”

“Oh, no… no I wasn’t! It was just something stupid I said—”

“Newsflash, Princess Sunshine, stupid stuff still hurts! Now go own up to what you did, ‘cause yous was a bully.”

“I know that, which is why I’ve stopped doing it!” Celestia’s face became pained, and her horn glowed while she announced, “Excuse me, I must go look after my sister.”

Then, Celestia was gone, having departed in a brilliant flash of sunny yellow magic. Gosling stood there, blinking, somewhat blinded, as he had been looking right at Celestia when she left. When Raven cleared her throat, he turned to look at her, still blinking, still trying to get the floating spots from his vision.

“That was a little blunt,” Raven said to Gosling, and she looked him in the eye.

“I was instructed to be blunt,” he replied.

“Oh.” Raven now had an expression that almost looked like guilt for sticking her snoot into a place where it perhaps didn’t belong, but Gosling, still blinking, still somewhat blinded, didn’t see it. “I suppose Celestia wanted direct input instead of just gracefully dancing around an issue. It is good to be honest and blunt, if the relationship will endure it.”

“Indeed.” Blueblood sounded meek and subdued, which wasn’t natural for him.

“Trouble in the spank dungeon?” Gosling asked, cottoning on that something might not quite be right.

“No, nothing like that. Raven and I, we’ve been blunt with each other lately, and we’ve realised a few things—”

“Things we can probably work through,” Raven said, interrupting. “And that’s all we have to say about it.”

“Yes… all we have to say about it.” After yanking out the cork, Blueblood drank directly from the bottle, and emptied it in one long pull. It came back down upon the table with a thump, and Blueblood smiled, his lips stained with red wine. Whatever trouble there was, it seemed to have passed now, and the reprobate prince stared into Raven’s eyes with a look of perverted longing.

Gosling sat down just as his mother came through the door, but there was no sign of Cadance, Shining Armor, or Flurry. Not long ago, his mother had come and ‘rescued Flurry from his clutches,’ and he had been sad to see her go. Foalsitting her hadn’t been any real trouble at all, and Gosling suspected that Cadance was trying to prepare him for fatherhood in small doses.

After spending a little time at the spa, Sleet was glowing. There was no other way to describe her appearance. She was such a stark shade of winter white that it was painful to look at her in direct lighting. Her mane and tail? Perfection. She looked the part of the Royal Nanny, and best of all, she looked happy.

“Son!”

“Ma!”

“You didn’t mess up with Flurry.”

“Thanks, Ma!”

“She didn’t learn any new vulgar words, near as I can tell.”

“I tried, Ma.”

“You didn’t drop her out of a chariot and she didn’t get a flat place on her head.”

“One of my many services I provide, Ma.”

“I was actually upset, because I couldn’t find anything to complain about—”

“A son could just die, Ma.”

Grinning, Sleet crossed the room, stood near her son; mustering all of the affection she could bring to bear, she headbutted him, and almost sent him sprawling from his chair. While he was helpless, subdued, she hugged him, slipping her forelegs and her wings around him, and then began squeezing with enough force that Twilight became somewhat alarmed from watching.

“You don’t seem so mad, Ma,” Gosling said to his mother in a woozy sounding voice. “You make a little peace with everything?”

“What choice did I have? As a husband, you have an obligation to follow your wives anywhere they might go… even into spooky houses.” Sleet squeezed harder, and all of the air in Gosling’s lungs came out in a long, whistling wheeze. “Seeing you all messed up got to me. I’m your mother, and seeing you like that messed with my ability to be objective. I’m proud of you for what you did, even if I hate you just a little bit for doing it.”

“Thanks for being honest, Ma.”

“A mother could just live, and face her old age with dignity knowing that her son did right.”

“That’s the dream, Ma. If you die right now or too soon, you won’t get to know the grandfoals. And then I’ll have to tell them that I shamed my Ma to death.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that to you,” Sleet said while she pulled away. “But that would give you a valuable weapon in your arsenal to make them behave.”

“Yeah it would, Ma.” Now, Gosling was grinning.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sleet sat down where Celestia had been sitting, at the head of the table. She fussed, she fretted, and she checked herself over for errant dark hairs after hugging her son. Twilight, sitting to her right, looked quite disturbed, no doubt because somepony was sitting in Celestia’s spot.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Sleet said, and she sounded wistful. “It’s all I can do lately, is think about those horrible apartments we had. Those… coops. I longed to be elsewhere, I thought about moving to Vanhoover, or even Ponyville once… I did think about it a lot.”

“What stopped you?” Twilight asked, and her face was twitching with interest.

“The lack of culture,” Sleet replied while she studied her own hoof, looking for any signs of imperfections. “Manehattan was awful, but it had culture. Even the very poor could mooch a little bit of the culture that the rich had created for themselves. Opera houses, theatres, museums, art galleries, performances in the park, concerts. Gosling needed these things. I felt that he had to have them. I felt that if he was cultured enough, it would open doors for him.”

“It did, Ma.”

Scowling, Twilight now looked sullen, and she leaned back in her chair. Her dark scowl intensified when she crossed her forelegs over her barrel, and she let slip a snorty sigh. It seemed that being told that Ponyville was an uncultured backwater did not agree with Twilight, and she had nothing she could say in defense of her own demesne.

All Twilight could do, was plot, so plot she did.

Shining Armor entered first, with Flurry sitting on his back, blabbering away about her most amazing afternoon and all of the fun she had with Gosling. Cadance followed, looking amused, but also looking exhausted. Whatever it was that she had done, it had been taxing. Flurry, excited by a room full of ponies that she adored, began using the back of her father’s skull as a makeshift drum, and she pounded away, thumping out a funky rhythm with her hooves striking bone.

In that moment, Shining Armor deserved to be an alicorn…

Seville stumbled in next, looking a bit dusty and cobwebby. He coughed, and when he did, Cadance turned around to face him. Horn glowing, she gave the earth pony a good dusting, fixed his mane, and then smiled to celebrate a job well done. Seville gave a nod of thanks, and then followed Cadance and Shining Armor to the table.

Reaching the table, Seville sat down next to Twilight. Turning, he smiled at her, and then with a weary sigh, he collapsed back into his chair and closed his eyes. His front hooves were still stained with ink and there was a faint chemical stench to him, the sharp tang of printing solvents.

Sniffing, Twilight took notice. “Methanol, xylene, toluene, and methyl ethyl ketone… glycol ethers”—she sniffed again, and stuck her tongue out—“and trichloroethane. Ah, the smell of journalism, publishing, and print.”

Opening his eyes, Seville asked, “How do you do that?”

“Oh, that…” A furious blush took over Twilight’s cheeks. “I’m cheating, I’m afraid. I learned how to modify a spell matrix for chemical detection and then I cast it on my nose. When I sniff, the spell inputs the knowledge of what I am smelling directly into my brain—”

“NERD!” Shining Armor shouted.

Rolling her eyes, Twilight shook her head at her brother’s utterance, and then countered: “How many hours did you spend playing role playing games in the basement with your friends, Shiny?”

“We should get a game of Ogres and Oubliettes going,” Cadance suggested while she attempted to stuff Flurry into a high chair.

“I like the smell of ink,” Twilight said to Seville in a most peculiar voice. “I like the smell of printing, and of bookbinding, and I love the smell of paper, and I think these are the best smells in the world—”

“They are!” Seville’s exhaustion departed, and he became quite animated. “It’s funny… the smell of ink, that smell that a newspaper has, it can be the smell of truth or the smell of a lie… but sniffing it is not enough… no, you have to get your eyes involved, and your mind, and it takes all of your senses to make a sniff test, to determine what is true, and what is false. The scent of ink is just what engages you. The scent of ink is an olfactory promise that your brain is about to get a workout!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Twilight responded, and her head bobbed up and down in agreement.

The conversation halted when Seville and Twilight noticed everypony present at the table staring at them. Even Flurry had stopped her squirming and her struggle to just stare. It was now so quiet that the sound of ponies blinking could be heard, and with each passing second, Twilight’s face purplefied, reaching new, previously unknown colours in the purpleosity spectrum.

When Gosling opened his mouth, his mother cut him off. “Gossy, don’t you dare, or you’ll catch one right in the kisser.”

Slumping in his seat, Gosling said nothing, keeping his precious kisser safe.

“Sit up straight. Don’t slouch! A mother could just die! Do you want Flurry learning that posture?”

While Gosling was faced with his mother’s sudden mortality, Twilight turned to look at Seville. “It isn’t often I get to talk about this stuff. I try with with my friends, but they don’t understand. They don’t understand that ink is the medium of intellectual engagement.”

“Yeah,” Seville replied, and exhaustion crept back into his features. “We should engage with each other sometime…” His words trailed off into nothingness and there was a soft click when his teeth clacked together.

Twilight’s colour spectrum shifted from purpleriffic and right into the red spectrum. She stammered, speechless, her wings flapping against her sides, and she was so distressed that her brother, Shining Armor, looked worried rather than amused. Cadance reached out and gripped Shining Armor’s leg, preventing him from getting up from his seat to rescue his sister.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong… I’m tired,” Seville said to Twilight, making a weak apology. “I shouldn’t say anything when I’m tired. To avoid any further social faux pas, I am going to shut up now.”

“I… would…” Twilight sounded as though she was strangling, and she was now in a fierce battle to get the words out. Gulping, she then kept going: “I would like to get together and talk about our mutual love of ink sometime. Please. I’d like that.”

The moment, as tender and heartfelt as it was, was interrupted by Celestia’s sudden appearance in the door, along with Luna. Celestia seemed subdued, but Luna seemed giddy, and both were watching Twilight Sparkle with a great deal of interest. After a moment of intense silence that was fraught with emotion, Celestia moved forwards.

“Sleet, you’re in my seat…”

Author's Note

Next chapter... the Breadnaught.

Chapter 29

The table was crowded for its size and length. The last two ponies to come in for supper were Hotspur and Hush, and Hush, unable to sit in a chair, sat down on the floor. He was still at eye level with most ponies sitting in chairs. It was in this light, under these circumstances that one realised that Hush wasn’t exactly a pony. Gosling was surprised to see them, as he wasn’t expecting them to join him for the meal.

“Oh, Gosling, before I forget—”

“Yes, Twilight?” Gosling leaned forward and gave her his best smile, the smile that left a mare flustered. He laid it on thick, too, and his ears perked when Celestia began tittering at Twilight’s adorable distress.

“I sp-spoke with Zecora,” she stammered, and her ears pivoted about. “She agreed to brew a pegasus potion. In a few days, the draught will be done. It’ll make your feathers grow back, but there are side effects—”

This sounded promising, but Gosling had some concern. “Side effects?”

“Yes.” Twilight took a deep breath to recover herself, and Celestia was still tittering. “Itchiness, dizziness, possible hives, and uh, um…” Her words trailed off into an embarrassed nothingness.

“Yes?” Gosling leaned forwards, eager to hear more.

“Extreme arousal,” Twilight squeaked.

It was Luna who burst out laughing first, and she banged her hoof on the table. This set off a barrage of laughter from all around the table and Gosling himself became lost in the moment. It felt good to laugh, and he let himself go without reservation. Twilight’s face was dabbling in new colours in the visible light spectrum once again, and Celestia gave her former student a gentle pat of reassurance.

“It’s a pegasus potion, and it enhances pegasus attributes,” Twilight said, reciting facts to alleviate her nervousness. “On a non-pegasus pony, it will cause a pair of wings to grow in the span of about twenty-four hours, and these wings will endure for about sixty hours, give or take a few hours. I understand the growth is quite uncomfortable and even painful, which is why these potions are almost unheard of and quite unpopular.”

“I don’t know if I like the idea of this hoodoo potion.” Sleet was quiet and she wasn’t laughing. Some of the laughter died and Gosling’s mother looked a little nervous. “It has nothing to do with zebras, and everything to do with alchemy. It’s too random. There is no consistency between potions.”

“Sleet kinda has a point.” Twilight cleared her throat. “Two different ponies can make the exact same potion and both will come out with different results. Zecora’s potions are pretty good though, and she is consistant with herself. I had a lot of trouble with alchemy when I was in school, and now, as a teacher myself, I really, really hate alchemy because, well, how do I grade it?”

“Oh, Twilight,” Celestia sighed, “you’ve grown so much.”

“What if the potion wears off and my son’s wings fall off completely?” Sleet asked, blinking, and looking quite concerned. “I mean, that happens at the end of the potion, when it wears off, right?”

Now, Twilight looked horrified and Gosling was feeling a little apprehensive about this idea. With an odd sort of synchronicity, both turned to Celestia for reassurance, for comfort, and it was at this moment that Celestia had a frustrated maternal expression upon her face, a look that suggested that she was tired of these happenings. Her sigh, a longsuffering one, confirmed as well as reinforced her expression.

“In all my long years, I have only heard of that happening once. Maybe twice. But I’ve never actually seen it so it might just be hearsay or zebra discrimination. Something a rabble rouser might do to stir up suspicion or fear of zebras to destroy the ever so fragile harmony. Really, the zebras know their stuff and if Zecora’s potions were a danger, her reputation would precede her.” Rolling her eyes, Celestia snorted and shook her head from side to side.

“I think it would be best to change the subject,” Shining Armor suggested, and his eyes darted in Flurry Heart’s direction. “This can be discussed later.”

“Yes”—Celestia nodded, agreeing—“later.” After speaking, she looked relieved.

Gosling was about to say something to ensure the subject changed, but little Flurry had her own plans, and she blurted out the word, “Freckles!”

“Who has freckles, Flurry?” Cadance asked, and the pink pony spoke her words in such a way that her daughter’s statement was the most important thing ever said.

Flurry reacted to this, her eyes brightening and her ears pricked. Stimulated, she bounced up and down in her seat a bit, causing her high chair to clunk, and she banged her hooves against the hard wooden tray that held her in place. Looking up at her mother she replied, “Freckles all over.”

“Yes, but who?” Cadance smiled, and the rest of the table now watched, waiting.

Grinning from ear to ear, Flurry had this to say: “Gosling! Freckles! All over!”

“Oy vey, she is reaching that stage that little pegasus foals reach when they began to observe everything, every detail, no matter how minor.” Sleet, though not Flurry’s mother, looked proud and she heaved a satisfied sigh. “These are the best times.”

“Yeah!” Cadance’s over-enthusiasm caused her utterance to come out at considerable volume. “Flurry, Gosling is dappled. He has spots. He has spots like the night sky has stars. Can you say ‘dappled’ for your Mommy?”

Looking somehow regal, little Flurry considered her mother’s request. The little foal’s ears pivoted around while she considered the new word, and she turned to look at Gosling, who was some distance away. Gosling meanwhile, waited with a wide grin that left all of his teeth on display. After a short time spent in contemplation, Flurry returned her gaze to her mother.

“Dapple?”

“Rhymes with apple.” Cadance ceased being a princess at this moment and was nothing more than a proud mother. “Flurry, we must never, ever tease a pony that looks different than we do. It doesn’t matter if they are spotted, or a strange colour, dappled… or if they have stripes. A pony is a pony is a pony.”

“Dappling is caused by a mutation that manifests during embryonic development and affects a cell’s melanosome, which in turn affects the production of the black pigment eumelanin.” Twilight looked like an excited foal while she recited these facts, and her eyes kept darting over to look at Celestia. “Gosling has the silver dapple gene, which causes dilution, or hypopigmentation, of his eumelanin. Gosling should be pitch black all over, but this dilution causes the black to fade into other colours, such as platinum and silver, along with glossy and matte greys, leaving him looking quite distinguished.”

Flurry’s eyes glazed over, and she stared at her aunt with a blank expression.

Shining Armor leaned close to his daughter and there was something about his face, something about his expression. There was something that was almost… sneaky. Never taking his eyes off of his sister, he asked his daughter, “Flurry, tell Daddy what you see when you look at Auntie Twily.”

Flurry let out a burbling giggle and replied, “Egghead!”

Once more the table succumbed to laughter, except for Twilight, who fumed while giving her brother a death-glare. Flurry was banging her front hooves together, clippity-clopping one against the other, pleased that she had made everypony laugh. Nopony laughed harder than Shining Armor though, who fell back into his chair and clutched his sides.

Twilight was about to retort when the doors were flung open and supper was served.

Something was up and Gosling could feel the tension in the air. A single long cart had been wheeled in by an oily looking unicorn wearing a lopsided chef’s toque. It wasn’t every day that one saw a serving cart that had to be eight feet long. It looked like a section of a portable, rolling buffet. A cloud of steam made the cart look like a small locomotive.

Right away, the room was filled with the mouth-watering scent of garlic.

The covered serving tray was ridiculously long and Gosling knew that the tray and the lid had to have been stretched out and reshaped with magic. The pegasus felt a little bad at the moment, because every eye in the room was on the magnificent silver tray and not on him. He supposed it couldn’t be helped, and could do nothing but bear this painful moment.

“Graisseux!” Celestia’s eyes narrowed in a most dangerous manner. “We meet again.”

The oily looking unicorn was fearless and he marched over to where Celestia was sitting, the corner of his eye twitching, and his chef’s toque bounced around with each stomp of his hooves. “Princess Celestia!” The unicorn halted and drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much. “You have ransacked my kitchens! You have scattered my employees like frightened chickens! I now have scared, whimpering little sous-chefs who hide in the cupboards and the pantries and refuse to come out for fear of your return!”

Celestia’s perfect smile melted away like candlewax and was replaced with a scowl.

“This cannot stand!” Graisseux began an excitable shuffle and various ponies around the table gasped at his active hostility against the princess. “Your appetite cannot be contained, it seems, so I have made it my equinal mission to destroy it! We had a truce, Your Majesty, and it was most thoroughly violated!”

“So it was.” Celestia’s lips smacked together and there was nothing playful about her expression. “I dispatched many messages to the kitchens requesting more food, larger portions, and those were ignored. You left me with no other options. My hunger overcame me.”

“You went out to dinner!”

“Yes, because I could not get full at home!”

Fear drove Gosling to begin gnawing on his own lip, and he was not alone.

Lifting one regal golden-shod hoof, Celestia gestured at the cart of absurd length. “Is this to be the means of my destruction? Is this how you hope to do me in? It is only one cart, Monsieur Graisseux. Is this your declaration of war? Your déclaration de guerre? I am not impressed.”

Twilight sucked in a deep breath, and choked.

“Do you seek to do me in with some enormous canapés or crêpes?” Celestia rose from her seat and her jaw clenched with determination. She towered over the little pony below her, and looked down at him with gleaming eyes that were as pink as the dawn. “I will not be dissuaded by mere, base pastry.”

Now, the oily little unicorn smiled, and it was a horrible smile. “No, not pastry, your imminent destruction has arrived in the form of the Breadnaught! The sandwich to end all sandwiches! Never again will you sack my kitchens once you collapse in defeat!”

Pushing the little pony aside, the alabaster behemoth strode over to the cart, her hooves clicking against the floor, every eye at the table followed her, waiting, and even little Flurry seemed to understand that something big was about to go down. Celestia paused at the cart, and not waiting for Graisseux to make his presentation, she lifted the massive lid to see what lay beneath.

Gosling ceased to draw breath.

“Sacrébleu!” Luna gasped.

It was indeed, the sandwich to end all sandwiches. A baguette torpedo loaded down with hunger destroying materiel. Thin-sliced eggplant cutlets covered in breadcrumbs could be seen, forming the ‘meat’ of the sandwich. These were buried under a rich looking tomato sauce that glistened in the bright overhead lights. White cheese oozed and dribbled out the sides. The bread had been slathered in butter and dusted with savoury herbs.

“Look at it! It is magnifique! Thirty six pounds of utter magnificence! Give up now, my worthy foe!” Graisseux hurried over to Celestia’s side, moving as fast as his short legs would allow without breaking decorum. There was a manic gleam in his eyes, and his thin mustache quivered as he began to chuckle.

Gosling remembered to breathe, and he did so, gasping, almost panting.

“I am Sol Invictus!” Celestia’s voice was like thunder and she provided fabulous oration for those around the table, watching as the drama unfolded. “I am the Unconquerable Sun. No weapon formed against me has ever prospered, or known success. I am the ruination of dark kings and evil queens. Your Breadnaught does not impress me.”

Horn glowing, Celestia cast a spell, and the mighty, massive sandwich shrank down, becoming little more than a scant inch or two. What remained was lifted, held aloft, and then, without further ado or drama, The Princess of the Sun consumed the Breadnaught in one bite. She gave it a thoughtful, polite chew, and when she swallowed, Graisseux collapsed at her hooves.

The stallion began to weep.

It was then that Celestia did something strange. She sat down and wrapped her wing around the little unicorn, who sniffled and leaned up against her. She patted him, hugged him, and gave him a soft squeeze with her wing. Eyes closed, Graisseux continued to cry in defeat and Celestia clucked her tongue.

“There there,” Celestia said in a soft voice. “Oh, come now, we had fun, Graisseux. If there is anything I like more than dinner it is a good show, and in that aspect, you did a spectacular job. I enjoyed myself—”

“You did?” Graisseux lifted his head, still sniffling, and looked up at Celestia. “I did not fail?”

“Well, you failed to take into account that matter is just mostly empty space, and can be compressed.” Celestia laughed, a soft sound, and she gave the little unicorn in her embrace another squeeze. “Graisseux, you have never failed to amuse me and your food has never disappointed me. The Breadnaught was delicious. You were very, very brave to engage me, and I appreciate your effort to keep my life exciting.”

“You do?” Now, the little unicorn looked hopeful.

“Yes, I do,” she replied. “Now, Graisseux… there is the matter of a room full of ponies who are hungry and have not eaten. Do you think you can remedy this?”

“Oui, Most Majestic One!”

After one final squeeze, Celestia released her little pony. For one brief moment, distress showed on her face, but it was unseen by all but her sister, Luna. The big mare squirmed a bit, rose to her hooves, and pulled Graisseux up with her. Towering over him, she smiled down, beaming at him while he looked up at her with unabashed adoration.

“Now go, back to the kitchen with you!”

Author's Note

She loves her little ponies... each and every one.

Chapter 30

Princess Celestia was a ham, the hammiest of hams, and Gosling feared for any little foals that he would have with her. One of them was bound to be a ham, just like its mother. Of course, he himself was perfect, innocent, and blameless; never would he take anything too far. But Celestia? After this evening’s supper club theatre, Gosling couldn’t even look at his mate without cracking a big, wide, stupid smile. She seemed to be okay after eating the dreaded Breadnaught, but he had the nagging suspicion that something was wrong.

This was why he loved her. The big mare was full of life and of a love for life. She championed the very cause of life, as he was starting to learn. Like any mare, she had secrets, and Gosling was only beginning to learn of some of them, such as her introversion. But for all of Celestia’s secrets, Luna seemed to have even more. Gosling knew that something was up, something big, even if he couldn’t fathom what it was, and he was determined to get down to the bottom of it.

Or maybe just get down on Luna’s bottom… someday.

Having finished supper, they had retired to a large, comfortable parlour so they could be a family together. Gosling lived for moments like these—they recharged his batteries and gave him a safe environment to be himself. Luna and his mother were getting chummy, and both exchanged various headbutting techniques with one another. This was not a conversation he wanted his mother having with his violent, aggressive, dominant blue mate.

Only headaches could come from this…

Celestia was sprawled out—splooted—on the floor, a reminder that the furniture industry held continued unkindness to giants. Cadance was already straining what the common sofa was capable of, and she too, was sprawled out. Shining Armor was fanning her with a newspaper while she moaned out distressed utterances about hot flashes. Flurry was pouting, upset that she couldn’t use her mother’s stomach as a trampoline.

Tucked into a corner together, Twilight, Seville, and Hotspur were having a dizzying conversation about the implied duties of the press. Hotspur believed in jingoistic journalism—no surprise—but Seville had surprising open-mindedness and tolerance for his hot-headed friend. Twilight, on the other hoof, not so much; she had much to say about the dangers of jingoism bleeding into the press and polluting the minds of the public.

As for Blueblood and Raven’s whispered conversation, it was better not to listen.

Hush was all by his lonesome, in a pony-loaf position on the floor reading a book. A pair of reading glasses sat somewhat askew on the bridge of his muzzle, and the book he was reading was titled, Quiet Serenity, A Book By Fluttershy, of Ponyville. Gosling was dying to know what the book was about, but one simply did not bother Hush while he was reading. Even Flurry knew better.

And should assassins pick this moment to make a disruption? Gosling pitied them. Heads would be unscrewed like lids from jars and all manner of bad things would happen. Gosling loved his friend—very much so—but Hush could be a little intimidating at times. He was a born soldier, loyal to few, defender of many.

Ears pricking, Gosling began to notice that Twilight was correcting Hotspur’s grammar and trying to subdue his accent. The impromptu elocution lesson was just what that conversation needed. Smiling, Gosling allowed himself to eavesdrop a bit before he turned his head to look Celestia in the eye and asked, “Are you happy?”

“Right now, at this moment, I am ridiculously happy,” she replied.

“Mama’s fat,” Flurry announced in a clarion voice that filled the room.

Gosling looked into Celestia’s eyes, he couldn’t look away, not now, maybe not ever, and he could see the laughter welling up from the depths long before it reached her perfect lips. When she laughed, he laughed, and neither could hear Cadance’s indignant snorting made in response to Flurry’s statement of the obvious.

“Can you get fat from hugs? Mommy and Daddy hug a lot. And wrassle!”

Sleet and Luna both stared with their mouths hanging open. They were a mirror of one another, one stark white, the other blue, both had wide eyes, flared nostrils, and their mouths were perfect round ‘O’s of shock. Twilight’s elocution lesson with Hotspur came to an abrupt halt. Cadance too, had gone quiet. Shining Armor bit his own hoof to keep from saying anything.

Hush kept reading.

Celestia’s laughter ceased when she made a swan-like honk. It was like giggle-snorting, but something more unique to pegasus ponies and alicorns. For a brief second, discomfort could be seen on Celestia’s face, but nopony noticed. Another swan-like honk escaped, and that was when Gosling let out a caw.

Every winged creature in the room responded.

Celestia rose to her hooves, flared out her wings, and thus established her dominance. Gosling too, rose up, and the pair of them stood neck to neck. He cawed again, a territorial display, and this was matched with yet another trumpeting honk from Celestia. The instinct governing flock behaviour proved too strong to resist, and Luna too, was on her hooves, ready to establish her place in the pecking order.

She hooted.

This startled Twilight, who appeared to be quite alarmed.

Luna strode across the room, stiff legged, joining her sister and Gosling. The trio stood neck to neck, hooting, cawing, and honking. Sleet followed Luna, and she too hooted, but it was a different sound, a smaller, softer, stealthier sound more suited to some arctic owl that hunted the tundra. The little white pegasus joined the flock, her head raised high and tilted back for maximum throatiness.

Hotspur broke away, compelled, pulled by invisible forces. He trilled, a sound most common to cardinals, and he approached the gathered flock with his head held low while Cadance rolled off of the couch. Cadance cooed, a dovelike sound, and with her head held high, she too gathered with the flock in front of the fireplace.

“I hate when this happens,” Shining Armor said while he hugged a confused looking Flurry close to him. His wife cooed again, and again, and then yet again, and he rolled his eyes.

Without looking away from his book, Hush let out a polite chirp of echolocation.

Cawing, Gosling’s ears took on an aggressive angle, but alas, he was incapable of performing a plumage display. His head bobbed—an almost avian motion—and Celestia joined him while making a few bellicose honks. She was at the top of this pecking order, of this, there could be no doubt. Luna slapped necks with her sister—a challenge—and her hoots intensified.

Celestia drowned out her sister’s challenge with a foghorn honk, and Luna shied away.

Cadance cooed, but Luna slapped her with her wing. She cooed again in defiance—it seemed the pecking order had some establishing that still needed to be done—and Luna responded by holding her head higher. Cadance cooed yet again, and when Luna wing-slapped her once more, the blue alicorn was slapped by her bigger, more dominant sister. Hotspur remained at a respectful distance on the edges, and flared his wings out in a more protective—rather than dominant—pose. Sleet, also on the edges, hooted while giving her half-extended wings a slow flap.

With a terrified squeak, Twilight stood up, looking confused and alarmed. Her wings flapped against her sides, and she stumbled a bit as she approached the gathered flock. Her eyes were almost glassy with fear, and her tail whipped from side to side. She approached with caution, her head low, not wishing to disturb the established pecking order, and it was clear that she did not understand what was going on.

“Not my sister,” Shining Armor groaned while he hugged his daughter even tighter.

“Join us, Twilight,” Cadance said, and then she cooed while keeping a wary eye on her rival, Luna. “Let it out. Become one of us!”

Luna hooted, an annoyed sound, because her rivalry against Cadance was held in check by Celestia, the biggest bird of the brood. She did, however, manage to slap necks with Cadance, and this seemed to be allowed. The pink alicorn pushed back, shoving up against Luna in retaliation, and Celestia honked while she gave the two smaller alicorns a token shove with her great alabaster wings.

Mouth open, Twilight seemed quite disturbed, and her barrel hitched as though she had the hiccups. No sound came forth, but she stood there, apart from the gathered flock but close, her wings trembling. Every eye in the room was on her, save Hush’s, and she seemed to be quite uncomfortable with this mess.

“What is going on?” she asked. “I feel peculiar.”

“Within every pegasus there is a deep connection to nature,” Cadance responded while staving off Luna’s aggression. “Become one with your inner-pegasus, Twilight!”

“Let it go, let it go—”

Luna’s sing-song suggestion ceased when Celestia slapped her again. The smaller blue alicorn glared up at the larger, but there was nothing she could do. Celestia was the dominant one of this flock, so Luna vented her frustrations on Cadance with a powerful neck-to-neck shove. Cadance, bracing her hind legs, pushed back, undaunted. The pink on blue struggle was antagonistic, but also somehow affectionate.

Twilight sucked in a deep breath and her eyes darted to and fro, meeting every other eye in the gathered flock. Her whole body shook, she trembled, and sweat poured from her temples. For a few seconds, her orange tongue graced her lips, and then, her wings flared out just a little bit more. Legs stiff, her stance went wide, her ears stood up straight, and Twilight discovered her inner-pegasus.

“Buc-buc-buc-buccaw!”

The clucking silenced the entire room, and Hush looked up from his book. “Hmm,” he hmmed.

“Buc-buccaw!” Twilight covered her mouth with both wings, and then stood there crosseyed and in shock.

It was Cadance who responded first, and she broke away from the flock to join her sister-in-law. Wings out, she embraced Twilight in a comforting hug, and whispered a bit of some much needed soft assurance: “You’re a mother hen, Twilight… a ferocious protector. Congratulations!”

Once more, Twilight clucked and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“We approve!” Luna shouted, glad that her rival was gone. She pressed up against her sister’s side, unchallenged for her position.

“My sister, the egghead, is a chicken—”

“Shining Armor!” Wrapping her wings around Twilight, Cadance pulled her even closer.

“We don’t flock-shame,” Sleet said to Shining, and she let out a stern hoot of annoyance.

“Yeah, we don’t flock-shame, that’s just rude!” Hotspur broke away from the flock, moved closer to Twilight and Cadance, and then stood at a respectful distance. “Yous a snob, Shining.”

“Clearly I don’t understand the importance of what is going on.” Shining let out a sigh, gave Flurry a final squeeze, and then he let her go. “I’m sorry, Twily.”

She bounced from the couch down to the floor, and then ran over to stand with her mother and her aunt, looking happy and excited. When Celestia let out a sharp honk of disapproval, little Flurry almost jumped out of her skin, and her wings flapped in panic. Adorable, adorable panic.

“These are our most sacred traditions,” Luna said while she pressed up against her sister. “Not every little pegasus makes a connection with their inner-nature, for various reasons. Some never hear the call, others have parents who aren’t pegasus ponies, and some are even repressed by those who feel that such spiritual awakenings are silly, shameful, or something best left in the past. Twilight Sparkle, We offer our most heartfelt and sincere congratulations for connecting to your pegasus nature.”

“We’s a couple of jays, ain’ts we, Gosling?” Hotspur let out a trilling noise and glanced over at his friend. “A flock within a flock.”

Cawing, Gosling nodded, and then replied, “Tribe within a tribe.”

“Sleet and Luna make for a fine pair of hooters,” Celestia remarked, and she patted her sister with her wing while rubbing necks with Gosling. “Perhaps in a different life, under different circumstances, Sleet might’ve had a brilliant career in the guard, a skull-smasher of evil.”

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” Twilight asked while she opened up her eyes. She stared up at Cadance, looking very much like a scared filly just discovering something new, something unknown, something terrifying that changed everything she thought she knew. “I suppose I have been neglecting my pegasus pony nature, and I really haven’t explored my earth pony nature at all. I suppose I am still a unicorn at heart.”

“There is no shame in self discovery.” Cadance gave her sister in law a fierce hug that made Twilight squeak. “Just remember to let it out every once in awhile, Twilight. This is an important part of who and what you are. Don’t be embarrassed, and don’t let your brother shame you—”

“I said I was sorry!”

“You’ll be sorry later,” Cadance promised, and she shot a raised eyebrow at her husband.

Something deep within Celestia’s bowels creaked and a pink blush spread like wildfire from her face down to the entirety of her body. There was a gurgle, and one hind hoof stomped hard enough to crack the floor. A wet, slurping-sucking sound could be heard from somewhere between Celestia’s cutie marks, and her fuzzy little dock flagged in alarm.

“I must go and sit in state upon my throne,” Celestia announced while her guts continued to make ear-pricking slorgling sounds.

“Burial at sea?” Gosling asked while making a disgusted grimace. These were not sexy sounds, not at all, these were the nasty noises that no husband wanted to hear coming from the bowels of his wife.

“You have no idea, Gosling.” Celestia licked her lips while her stomach continued to make horrifying sounds of distress. “Yon ill wind cometh!” As she spoke these words, the regal white monarch vanished from view, leaving behind a startled flock that all stood there blinking at one another.

Gosling, his ears drooping, gave voice to what everypony was thinking: “I’m scared!”

Author's Note

This chapter has gone to the birds.

Chapter 31

Keeping his head low, Gosling followed along after Luna and could not for the life of him figure out why they were creeping along like sneaky thieves. She had been in a dreadful mood earlier, but was now filled with an almost manic state of joy. Waxing and waning, Gosling thought to himself as he kept pace behind her. At least the issue with her sister seemed to be sorted out—for now—though he was positive that others would come along later.

The door for Celestia’s private chambers was just ahead; Gosling still thought of them as Celestia’s private chambers even though he shared them and it was so very hard to intrude into them after she had lived in them for hundreds of years. They were unmistakably hers and would continue to be hers long after he had collapsed into dust.

“Mine sister can’t stand losing,” Luna said in a thick whisper. “It galls her that she lost to Chrysalis, but if she would have responded with her full power, Canterlot as a city would have ceased to exist. She frets upon that moment.”

“Uh-huh.” Gosling nodded and followed after Luna, wondering why they were sneaking.

Pausing at the door, Luna’s lips pressed into a concerned pucker for a moment—Gosling felt that they were quite kissable in that state—and her ears drooped with worry. “Come, mine brave prince, and let us see what the Breadnaught has done to mine sister. Be bold, mine boon companion.”

With that, Luna pushed open the door.

The great white alicorn lay upon her bed in horrendous, uncomfortable repose. It looked as though she had swallowed the sun, or perhaps like she was at the far end of her pregnancy. She lay gasping, heaving, with a look of severe discomfort upon her face. When she saw Luna and Gosling, hope blazed in her eyes and she bellowed, “Belly rubs! Now!”

Stiff legged, Luna shook her head from side to side in defiance. “No, dear sister, thou hast done this to thyself. Thou shalt suffer for thine pride, just as We have endured much dolorous discomfort for Ours.”

“Hearken unto my pleas, dear sister, and have mercy for mine plight—”

“No!” Luna’s refusal sounded a bit grumpy.

“It keeps expanding—”

“Such are the laws of physics! Didest thou think that you could break them? Didest thou think that these laws would succumb to your comely glory like a suitor seeking to curry your serendipitous favour?”

“Begone, thou bratty, flappy-lipped sister!” Celestia cried from the bed. “My little husband, I am in need of belly rubs! Come forth, do your duty, and attend to your princess at once!”

“No, mine husband!” Luna put up her wing to stop Gosling from going to Celestia. “Come, mine handsome husband, and let Us be away from this chamber that is soon to be home to the shrieking, howling wind. Mine sister seeks to create a second Tartarus and thou shouldest not be here when yon puckered portal opens to release the demons trapped within! Behold, she shall cast her fewmets upon thine marital bed and soil it forever more!”

Gosling looked at Celestia, then at Luna, then back to Celestia, and then to Luna. “I don’t even know what Luna just said, but it scares me.”

“Gosling!” Celestia cried in a wavering voice that highlighted her distress.

“What wind through yonder puckered portal breaks?” Luna embraced Gosling with her wings, looking somehow both frightened and fierce. “Goodbye, dear sister,” Luna said while she waved with one hoof. There was a flash from Luna’s horn and then she and Gosling were gone, just gone, leaving Celestia all alone.

When Gosling found himself in the observatory tower all of a sudden, he was quite startled. Luna was still hugging him and he found himself leaning into her, seeking reassurance. The sudden change of scenery had left him quite unsettled and perhaps just a tiny bit spooked, though he would never admit it. Luna was giggling and she seemed to quiver with happiness.

“It has been a long time since We… the two of Us... could laugh and play like this,” Luna remarked as she pulled away from Gosling, and her eyes glittered with emotion. “She came to Us and We spoke for a time. The pain of the past was soothed. Thank you, Gosling.”

She strode away, her long legs moving with a smooth gait and Gosling watched her, almost smiling, but also concerned for Celestia and her battle with the Breadnaught. Luna’s apparent lack of concern bothered him a bit, but perhaps she knew that her sister would be fine, so he allowed the issue to go unspoken.

Luna threw open the doors, filling the room with bitter, teeth-chattering cold, and slid a massive telescope along a brass slide-track in the floor. There was a rumble and the squeak of metal that made Gosling’s ears stand up. The Princess of the Night began to make adjustments to the telescope and of curious interest, she did not point it at the heavens, but downwards.

“Gosling, do so be a dear, go forth, and fetch my niece, Cadance. Tell her that she is to come to me at once, so that we might speak.”

“Wait!”

“What?” Luna looked up from whatever it was that she was doing.

“If she is your niece, does that make me her uncle?” Gosling asked.

A broad, terrifying grin spread over Luna’s muzzle like marmalade over toast, a slow process indeed. “Why yes, Gosling, it does. Go forth and fetch our beloved niece!”

“Okay,” Gosling started to respond, but he was interrupted as magic overtook him once more. In the blink of an eye, he found himself elsewhere as Luna willed him to be in another location.

Blinking, Gosling found himself back among his friends, his loved ones, his family. His mother seemed startled by his sudden appearance, but she recovered with a quickness. Shining Armor looked up from the book he was reading to Flurry and took a moment to stare. Flurry, who could not be bothered with an interruption, banged on her father with her hooves.

Looking down at his daughter, Shining Armor said, “See Flurry, this is why Mommy has such a big, fat tummy-tum. You’re going to have a sister.” This revelation blew Flurry’s mind and she stared at the open book her father held with wide, curious eyes. Meanwhile, Shining Armor suffered the fury of his wife’s glare.

Gosling knew just how to save Shining from himself. “Hey, Cadance… did you know that you are my second favourite niece?” Upon saying the word ‘niece’ the room went silent, save for a gasp from Twilight Sparkle. He watched as Cadance’s head made a slow turn on her neck, and the corner of her right eye began to twitch in a most frightful manner. Shining Armor recovered, began to chortle, and Gosling found himself doing the same. “Flurry is my first favourite niece, of course. Sorry Cadance, but you’ll have to settle for being second best.”

“Gosling…” Cadance’s voice was as cold as the vacuum of space, but she did not get to finish.

“Auntie Luna needs you in the observatory tower. I was instructed to tell you to come to her at once so that you two could speak.” Oblivious to the danger that he was in, Gosling smiled at Flurry, sucked in a deep breath, and then had this to say: “Uncle Gosling loves you, little Flurry!”

“Yay!” Flurry blew a raspberry and then looked confused. “Uncle?”

“Yes, Flurry.” Cadance’s neck muscles were like taut suspension bridge cables. “Uncle Gosling. Your uncle. My uncle. Because family is complicated. Sweet Uncle Birdbrain.”

Twilight Sparkle exploded with laughter and spooked Flurry, who took flight. The little filly took off in a blur, with Sleet and a still laughing Twilight going after her as she shot out the door. Shining Armor closed his book, snickered a bit, and fought to keep a straight face, knowing what was at stake here. Lips twitching, Shining Armor followed after his sister and his daughter’s nanny, sniggering as he made his escape out through the door.

“Auntie Luna needs to speak to me?” Cadance asked in a voice of utter calm.

“Yeah.” Gosling nodded. “Maybe it is about Celestia? I don’t know. They seemed to have sorted something out earlier and she might want to talk about that. You should go—”

Too late, she and Gosling were already gone, having vanished in a burst of pink light.

“—and talk to her…” It took Gosling a moment to get reoriented after another shortcut through the aether. This time, the journey had been an unsettling shade of pink and lacked the smooth transition of Luna’s teleportation. In transit, he had endured the unnerving sensation of being stretched thin and long, an experience most unpleasant.

“Hello, Auntie,” Cadance said in a pink saccharine deadpan. “Uncle Gosling was just telling me that you wanted to speak to me.”

No effort was made on Luna’s part to hold back her chuckles, and Cadance looked quite flustered. When the pink alicorn let out an indignant wicker, the blue one’s chuckles turned into peals of laughter that echoed through the observatory, and made Gosling’s ears twitch. Luna looked and sounded downright gleeful as she celebrated Cadance’s chagrin.

Still chortling, Luna looked at Cadance with mischief gleaming in her eyes. “We wished to show you the beautiful city of Ponyville at night. It is a sight that We treasure. We have taken up a hobby, as you have suggested.”

Obliging her aunt, Cadance strode forward, her mane billowing in the wintery wind that blew in through the opened double doors that lead out to the observation balcony. Gosling stood on the spot where he had arrived with Cadance and watched as Luna’s smile grew ever-wider. The blue wife was in a fine mood tonight after being so miserable earlier and he regretted that sooner or later, this happiness would come to an end when her mood shifted.

“See how decorated Ponyville is for Hearth’s Warming… they have done a spectacular job! It sits in the snow like an embedded, glittering jewel!” Luna stepped aside so that Cadance could look into the peephole and then shot a wicked-looking glance in Gosling’s general direction. “Look how Twilight’s subjects have prospered and how much wealth they possess!”

When Cadance put her eye up to the peephole, she gasped once, then twice, and then after the third time she said, “It really is beautiful… what an amazing view! Look at all of the lights! This is gloriously breathtaking! It is so beautiful at night… Luna… thank you for showing me!”

Snickering greeted Cadance when she returned to the room where everypony had gathered. Twilight took one look at her, covered her mouth with her hoof, and then began to giggle. Seville chuckled and was joined by Sleet. Her husband, Shining Armor, couldn’t even look her in the eye. Sighing, she knew that there was nothing she could do but laugh along with the joke.

“Yeah, ha ha, funny, Gosling is my uncle. Okay you chuckleheads, get it out of your systems.” Flapping her closed, folded wings against her sides in annoyance, she crossed the room to go and sit down beside her husband so she could cuddle Flurry. “The holiday lights of Ponyville look amazing, Twilight.”

“Oh?” Twilight fought to keep a straight face for a moment—and lost. She collapsed with a fresh case of the giggles and was unable to look Cadance in the eye.

“Did.. did… d-did Luna g-get you to look into her t-t-telescope?” Shining Armor had to struggle to stammer out the words and his sides were heaving while Cadance sat down beside him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought to hold back his laughter but it came out as hard, puffy little snorts that blew Flurry’s mane around.

Frowning, Cadance plucked her daughter from her husband and pulled her close. “Hi! Did Mama’s little filly have a fun little fly? Did your nanny have to chase you?” At the sound of her mother’s voice, Flurry melted down into giggles and settled in for a snuggle.

Hush snorted once, shook his head, and resumed reading while Hotspur chewed his lip.

Twilight lost it again, bursting into laughter, and she clutched her sides. When she suddenly clucked like a chicken, she paused, but only for a moment, and then even more laughter spilled forth, punctuated by occasional clucks and buccaws. Shaking her head, Cadance bore it with as much grace as could be mustered.

“It really isn’t funny, it is just a little odd, that’s all. Gosling is younger than I am and it feels weird referring to him as my uncle. Now give it a rest, I’m tired and this has been a long day.” She yawned and gave her daughter a warm, fuzzy-wuzzy cuddle.

With a poomf of glittery magic, Twilight conjured a mirror into existence. She held it for a time while staring at her sister-in-law, laughing and clucking. Meanwhile, her brother had picked up a pillow and had covered his face while barking with laughter. Turning away, Twilight passed the mirror over to Cadance, then stuffed her hoof into her mouth in a futile attempt to try and contain her now painful laughter.

Cadance took the mirror from her sister-in-law, held it up, and noticed the inky black circles around both of her eyes. She blinked once, feeling fury, and knew that she had been twice-duped. She’d been had. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled. Hornswaggled. Inveigled. She had challenged Luna—they had struggled for position earlier—and now Cadance realised that she had paid the consequences for doing so. The former Element of Laughter had struck back in a method true to her idiom, a devastating two-hit combo.

“I’m going to get those two if it is the last thing I ever do.”

Author's Note

Comedic theory is hard to balance with proper sentence structure. Just ask my editors.

Chapter 32

There was something about the stained glass window—one depicting Luna’s return—that intrigued Gosling, but he didn’t know what it was. The past few days had been busy ones, hectic ones, and preparations for the school’s holiday gala were in full swing. When that was concluded, the Winter Moon Festival would be soon to follow, and Hearth’s Warming. But all of these things were in the background for Gosling, who had something of a mystery on his hooves.

Beans and Toast were playing cards with one another while Gosling stared up at the window, and he wore the most curious expression. His serious mien was absolutely ruined by the sweater he was wearing, another one of Luna’s creations. This one was charcoal black and luscious pink, and Gosling somehow made it look good. Oh, sure, he was ridiculous, but he was a very good looking ridiculous.

“Been a bit fixated on the glass,” Beans remarked and his sister nodded her head.

Having endured a bit of ribbing from his assistants, Gosling nodded, but also chose to respond: “There is a mystery here. Something that doesn’t add up. Upon Luna’s return, she was reborn through the Elements of Harmony and was revived as a filly.”

“Right.” Toast sounded as though she was humouring Gosling.

“Not long after that, she is seen as a full grown mare in the town of Ponyville to celebrate Nightmare Night.” Gosling gestured up at the stained glass window and the image of the small blue alicorn filly it presented. “Princess Luna is the undisputed master of illusion, with only the House of Lulamoon as her rivals. Moonlight Raven, Luna’s disguised counterpart, is such a finely crafted illusion that when she cries, her mascara runs.”

Beans and Toast both went still and in an eerie moment of synchronicity, they both turned to look at Gosling. “Oi, then, what are you going on about?” they both said together in perfect timing with one another.

Gosling, who was mostly fine with how creepy his assistants tended to be, ignored the shivers that had an impromptu relay race up and down his spine. “These illusions are so powerful that they force your speech patterns to change… I know this because I’ve experienced it. I’m not strong enough to fight it, but I do wonder if a master of illusion might try to change the spell somehow or force the illusion to change to adapt to new needs… if such an illusion could be changed.”

Toast cleared her throat, looked her brother in the eye, and dropped her cards down onto the pile on the floor. She then got up and moved to stand by Gosling’s side, so that she too, could look up at the stained glass window, perhaps trying to see whatever Gosling saw.

“I win,” Beans muttered to himself as he cleaned up the cards.

“I need to get into the archives.” Gosling sidled closer to Toast, who stood beside him, and he gave her a sidelong glance. “I don’t understand the archives though and I don’t know where to look. If I ask for help, they might catch on to the fact that I am on to them.”

“Them? They? Who?” Toast gave Gosling an incredulous look along with a snort that blew his mane to the other side of his head.

“It’s a conspiracy.” Gosling shook his head to straighten out his mane and then stepped away from Toast, lest his good looks become unsettled once more. “I’ve been reading just a little now and then. Luna is an immortal entity, sort of like Philomena, Celestia’s pet bird. If something somehow destroys her body, she is reborn… and she was reborn. She came back as a filly after the nightmare was destroyed.”

“Right. She did vanish for a time from the public eye, as I seem to recall. ‘Course, I don’t really remember it, but I do remember reading about it. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna vanished from the public eye for a while on a sabbatical of sorts.” Beans began to rub his chin and his eyes narrowed as his face took on a thoughtful expression. “So, off to the archives then?”

“To the archives,” Toast agreed.

“Yes”—Gosling nodded with much enthusiasm—“to the archives.”

Sitting amidst scattered piles of research material, Gosling let out a sigh and shook his head to express his displeasure. Feeling that this wasn’t enough, he pressed his lips together and forced more air out, causing a flatulent-lip-flappy-horsey sound, but this just wasn’t satisfying either. No, nothing would be satisfying until he had results, but there seemed to be no results to be had.

“Nothing,” he said, bemoaning the situation. “Nothing at all. Not a darn thing. Or even a damn thing.” Waving his hoof, he gestured at the canisters of microfilm and stacks of books around him and his assistants. “The press ruthlessly stalks every member of the royal family… there is stuff here about Blueblood acting like an ass out in public. Princess Cadance’s shopping trips are thoroughly documented. Princess Celestia sneezing in public makes headlines and ponies predict the end of the world… but there is a huge blank spot when it comes to Luna.”

“I was going to say something about privacy, but then I recalled that the press doesn’t really respect privacy.” Toast flipped through a heavy, dusty tome of condensed press releases with only her furrowed brows revealing her frustration. “Luna’s so called ‘coming out’ does seem to coincide with Nightmare Night in Ponyville and after that point comes a deluge of relevant information. Every public sighting is documented—”

“But that doesn’t help us make sense of the blank space that spans almost two years,” Beans said, finishing his sister’s sentence. “So Luna returns to much fanfare, there are a few photos taken of her as a foal under the careful care of Princess Cadance, and then she just vanishes.”

“It’s a conspiracy.” Gosling hated himself for saying it, but he said it anyway. He had never been one for crackpot conspiracies, no, he only believed in the obvious conspiracies, the ones that were clearly and obviously true. “The lack of evidence suggests that—”

Toast cut Gosling off and sounded very much like a prim schoolmarm: “The lack of evidence for conspiracy is not evidence of conspiracy. If we followed this bit of reasoning, we’d be finding conspiracies in bloody everything.”

“But sister,” Beans interjected, and he cringed a bit when his sibling cast her stern glare upon him. “We can clearly see a hole. Just because there is nothing inside of the hole does not mean that the hole doesn’t exist. The evidence of a hole’s existence is that there is a big clump of nothing all gathered into one place.”

“Shut up, Beans, you’re making my brain ache. You can see a hole by what is around it.”

“Yes, and we can see what is around Luna missing from the public eye for almost two years and then suddenly reappearing one night as an adult… as a grown mare. I see a hole.”

Huffing in annoyance, Toast began putting the books back into their proper places all while rolling her eyes. Gosling watched her, feeling both frustrated as well as amused, all while wondering how much time they had just wasted in pursuit of this particular bit of folly. This place had no windows and was cut off from the outside world, making it quite easy for the hours to slip away unnoticed.

“Something is amiss, Sis.” Beans began to help his sister clean up the mess they had made together and he ignored her withering glare. “Look at little Flurry Heart. Every moment of her growth is somehow given documentation and every possible moment of her foalhood is documented any time she appears in public. The papers talk about how much she’s grown, how much larger she is compared to normal foals her age. The media consumes every conceivable detail and documents every precious moment they can capture. So why isn’t there any record of Luna’s growth? Do you really think that the papers somehow missed out on this goldmine?”

Toast said nothing, but did spend a moment looking her brother in the eye. The siblings seemed to be exchanging some means of communication that Gosling did not understand, and try as he might, he could not eavesdrop on their conversation. This was a little frustrating, which piled in atop the rest of his frustrations, and he began rubbing and tugging at the collar of his garish sweater.

“Have you thought about asking Luna?” Toast asked.

To which Gosling replied, “Of course I have. If I thought she’d tell me, I wouldn’t be doing this.” Squirming inside of his sweater, Gosling felt hot and itchy, even though the archives were as cold as an icebox. “Maybe all of this is a waste of time.”

“Perhaps you should try talking to her,” Beans suggested and Gosling cringed at these words. “Just come right out and ask her about all of this.”

It took Gosling a moment to prepare his reply; first, he had to bite his tongue to avoid sarcasm; second, he reminded himself that Beans was his friend and assistant; and third, he took a much needed deep breath. Then, he had this to say: “I can get Celestia to talk about almost anything, but it is difficult to pry secrets out of Luna.”

“So talk to Celestia about this.” Toast let out a sniff and began returning microfilm canisters to their proper locations.

“Amendment.” Gosling spat out the word as if it had a foul taste. “Celestia will tell me almost anything. She can be tight lipped about Luna, which is immensely frustrating, because knowing certain things would really make it easier to help Luna out.”

“Respecting another pony’s privacy isn’t a bad thing,” Toast began.

“And there can be a tight bond between siblings,” Beans finished.

Then, both spoke together: “Sometimes, being tight-lipped does more harm than good.”

Having nothing worthwhile to say, Gosling remained silent while his assistants cleaned up the mess that they all had made.

Late for supper, Gosling offered up an apologetic grin to those around the table as he sat down. Tonight, his tablemates seemed like an odd smattering of familiar faces. Moon Rose and Flurry were here, but there were no signs of their parents. Sleet was missing as well, and Gosling guessed that Flurry and Moon Rose had been left in Celestia’s care.

Celestia herself sat at the head of the table, as usual, but there was no sign of Luna. Raven was here, but there was no sign of Blueblood, which Gosling found a little odd, but not too out of place. Sometimes, Blueblood just stayed busy. Next to Raven was an older mare that Gosling barely knew: Professor Inkwell and he wondered why she was here.

“So nice of you to finally join us,” Professor Inkwell said to Gosling as he sat down.

“I was busy—”

“Doing what?” Celestia asked as she leaned forward to have a better look at Gosling.

“Archival research,” he replied while he stared down at his empty plate.

“Oh…” Celestia drew out the word, stretching it like so much taffy, and Gosling could feel her eyes on him. “About what?”

“I’ve learned something amazing.” Gosling scrambled to change the subject and make it sound like an answer, but without actually lying, because he had learned many things from the archive. Celestia failed to be specific about what he had learned today. “It seems that every time you get pregnant, the borders of Equestria expand. I’ve noticed quite a pattern. You annex and you conquer when you are in a delicate condition.”

When Celestia began to giggle, Raven and Inkwell both looked somewhat annoyed. Gosling’s eyes darted to each of them, trying to discern their feelings, and he suspected that they were onto his subversions. Thinking about it, he doubted that he had fooled Celestia, but at least she was playing nice.

“My nesting instincts cause me to be a wee bit expansionist,” Celestia confessed, almost sighing out the words. “Nothing wrong with picking up a bit of territory when others fail to utilise the land to its fullest potential. Well, that and Equestria’s enemies always seem to think that I am weak for some reason when I find myself expecting. They push in, I push back, and I find that I have to take a little bit of what was once theirs for compensation.”

Flurry, who was bored of such conversation, began to blow spit bubbles, while Moon Rose tried her best to be polite. Gosling wiped his sweaty frogs against his sweater and eyeballed the door, wondering when the food was coming. It was his fault that the meal was delayed, and he felt rather guilty about it.

“So, Gosling, what were you studying today?” Celestia asked in a voice that dripped with syrupy sweetness. Leaning forward, she batted her eyelashes and did her best to look quite fetching, which she did with staggering ease.

“Oh, just stuff,” he replied in a noncommittal tone. “How goes the preparations for the hero-themed gala?”

“Oh, quite excellent.” Celestia seemed amused, and this left Gosling somewhat worried. If she found this funny, could she already know? It seemed possible. “Gosling, will you take me to the dance?”

Flustered, Gosling had no wings to flap about to cool off and his naked nubs were hidden beneath the thick, woollen sweater. If sweaters were to make one sweaty as their namesake seemed to imply, then this one was doing a good job because Gosling could feel beads of moisture rolling down the back of his neck.

Two unicorn servants came into the room, with one bearing a wheeled cart loaded down with food and the other carrying a platter loaded down with hot, steaming pies. As they approached the table, Gosling found himself burning up beneath Celestia’s sunlamp-stare. Something about her eyes left him feeling heated, and the two mares across the table had started to snicker.

“I wanna be a princess!” Flurry blurted out, causing Gosling to let out a startled whinny. “Pretty dresses! Big castles! Handsome prince! Gimme gimme!”

Covering her mouth with one perfect hoof, Raven began to chortle from Flurry’s outburst and Gosling’s reaction. Professor Inkwell had composed herself, but now sat smiling. To Gosling’s right, Celestia looked delighted, and off to his left, Moon Rose had a bad case of the giggles.

“Say, Moon Rose, where are your parents?” Gosling asked, hoping for a more suitable distraction.

“They went out with Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor,” the filly replied, sounding quite prim and maybe a bit proud. “Princess Celestia offered to be my foalsitter.”

“Handsome prince for dinner!” Flurry shouted while she clopped her front hooves together.

“Flurry, I think you mean, ‘have a handsome prince over for dinner.’ We must be careful with how we say things.” Raven, who was beside Flurry, reached out and stroked the filly’s cheek to calm her down. “An ogre might have a handsome prince for dinner though and a little filly for dessert.” At this, Flurry shivered, went quiet, and Raven’s chortles turned into full blown laughter.

As the food was being served, Gosling too, found himself laughing at the exchange.

Author's Note

There is a mystery loose in the castle!

Chapter 33

Grinning, Gosling was in the mood to ‘seize the day.’ Yes, seizing the day and squeezing the daylights out of her sounded like a splendid idea. He strutted, thinking about how his wings would soon be restored, and today, for some reason, he was just full of vigour. The morning report had been stimulating, he had caught Luna just before she had gone to bed to say a few kind words to her, and now he was about to investigate reports that there was a nervous white alicorn loose in the castle.

Strolling through the hallway with his assistants trailing on either side of him, Gosling threw back his head and started to sing: “Straight outta Hooflyn, crazy motherplucker named Go-Sling… from the gang called Pegasi With Attitudes. When I'm called off, I go and caw off, kick some plot and bodies are hauled off. You too, colt, if ya fronk with me, the police are gonna hafta come and get me—” When he heard a guard sniggering, Gosling paused, smiled until his teeth were showing, and waggled his ears.

“Keeping it real,” he shouted as he threw open the door to Celestia’s preparation room. “I have arrived. Everypony can bask in my glory!”

Raven growled down deep in her throat, not in the mood for shenanigans, Celestia began tittering while covering her mouth with her wing, and Cadance facehoofed hard enough to make a curious sound. Flicking his tail, Gosling pranced just to give Celestia—and everypony else—something to look at.

“I heard there was a nervous good-lookin’ mare.” He approached the throne tossing his head from side to side and walked with an exaggerated high step. “I understand she needs some pep in her step because she has to give a speech in front of a bunch of stodgy parents.”

“Have you come to rescue me, my beloved cockerel?” Celestia asked as she tried to contain her giggles. “I heard you singing before you entered. Is that what passes for music in the inner-city?”

Angling his head back, Gosling puffed out his barrel and his neck and was pleased when he saw a faint blush creeping up Celestia’s neck. “I’ve come to inspire you, Sunshine.”

“Something is different about you this day, Gosling.” Celestia’s regal eyebrow arched as the creeping pink overtook her face. Nostrils flaring, she tittered for a time and the tip of her orange tongue could be seen peeking out from between her lips.

Beans stepped forward, bowed his head, cleared his throat, and then said, “Marm, he drank some of Night Marm’s coffee—”

“Quick, Raven, we’ll need an antidote!” Celestia’s joke failed to impress and Raven stood scowling while shaking her head from side to side.

“I’m having second thoughts—”

“This was your idea, Raven.”

Raven clucked her tongue to get Gosling’s attention, and focused her steady stare upon him. “Gosling, Celestia is a little… emotional right now and has a terrible case of the jitters. She is about to give a speech in front of about two thousand or so ponies in the school auditorium”—Raven paused while Celestia let out a startled-sounding whinny and looked Gosling right in the eye—“and I need you to do that thing you do… you know… that thing you do that leaves a pony happy. It works on Luna and now I need you to do it for Celestia, so she can be at her best when she gives her speech to all those ponies.”

“That thing I do?” Gosling asked and just as he was about to continue, Raven cut him off.

“Don’t be coy, this is a serious matter. You have an observed talent for making ponies happy. That is your talent, or it seems to be, though there is still some debate on that issue. I for one, am convinced of your ability due to my own observations. Now, Gosling, get with the happy making so I can pull Celestia up to that podium and she can give her speech to all of the concerned parents of the foals who attend her school. Chop chop!”

“This is like trying to pee while somepony is watching,” Gosling remarked as a warm tingle tiptoed up the vertebrae of his neck.

Chortling, Celestia made a broad, sweeping gesture with her wing. “Oh, you don’t have a problem with that.”

Descending from her rightful place at Celestia’s side, Raven approached Gosling with a stern, hopeful expression upon her face, and her eyes blazed with a great intensity behind her glasses. “Prince Gosling, I need you to do your job. Right now, you are being tapped as a strategic resource. You have a unique, exploitable talent that is beneficial to the Crown. You were summoned with a purpose. Do what you do best. I am only asking you to be you. How hard could that be?”

“Well, when you put all this pressure on me like this—”

“Oh bother!” Raven rolled her eyes, stomped her hoof, and then retreated, perhaps hoping that giving Gosling some room might help. “Just you be you and do that thing you do!”

Shuffling from side to side, Gosling looked up at Celestia sitting on her throne and tried to look past the alabaster mask for signs of trouble. “Sunshine, are you having a rough time?”

“Yes,” she confessed without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m skittish and anxious… more so than usual. I feel bloated, my stomach hurts, and I’m having a much harder time managing my feelings about being in front of a crowd. Twilight is going to be out in that crowd, worshipping me and adoring me, hanging on my every word, and this speech is going to be about heroes… about her… and all of this has left me far more emotional than I thought it would and I spent all of this morning thinking about all of the many accomplishments of Twilight Sparkle, and I worry that I won’t have enough good things to say, or enough meaningful things to say, or that my words might sound insincere, or come off as base flattery, or—” Celestia sucked in a deep breath and then let everything out as a squeak.

Gosling—who was wearing his charcoal black and labial pink sweater made for him by Luna—did his best to look dignified, calm, cool, and composed. Silent though he was, he had not lost any of his good mood or swagger, he was just withholding it for now while he tried to figure out the best approach to this problem. He glanced over at Cadance only to find that she was staring at him and her eyes kept darting over to Celestia in a silent plea to please do something. Seeing the look on Cadance’s face said more than Raven ever could about the seriousness of this situation.

Celestia had more than the jitters… she was having some kind of mare moment.

What sort of mare moment remained to be seen. Introversion, pregnancy, emotion, having an off day, or maybe her spirits were lower than she was letting on and her current smile was a sham. Maybe this event had come at such a time where Celestia needed a day off. And Celestia did need a day off. Full time teacher, full time school administrator, full time princess, full time guardian of the astral realms, full time defender of threats that Equestria could barely conceive, and chief diviner, one of the chosen, precious few that could peer into the mists of the future to get something of an idea of what was coming.

She was also his teacher, his lover, and his wife; though he was uncertain where these priorities fell, because she mixed love and lessons so interchangeably that it was impossible to tell where one left off and the other picked up. Gosling was starting to believe that Celestia was incapable of separating the two, and love in some form crept into every lesson she taught. This was true for Cadance, true for Twilight, and it held true in his own experiences and exchanges with her. Of course, for Cadance and Twilight, it was a different sort of love, though with Cadance, she had done an exceptional job because Cadance had become the Princess of Love.

He sighed—a breathy sound—causing every ear in the room to twitch and Gosling realised that everypony was waiting for him to say something, say anything. Somehow, he was supposed to fix this. Celestia was looking at him funny, and he noticed that her crown was somewhat crooked. Unable to recall if he had ever seen her crown crooked before, he thought about what this might mean. An ominous portent? A bit of neglect?

“When all of this is over,” Gosling began and he said each word with as much eloquence as he could muster, “you and I will retreat to where the world cannot reach us and I shall seize the day.” For good measure, he waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, do go on,” Celestia replied as she leaned forwards with a mild look of amused interest upon her face.

Gosling knew that he was going to have to step up his game. Licking his lips, he took a moment to collect his charisma and then in a smoldering voice he spoke: “Our love will be a rare summer’s day in winter, a day of warmth and light. You will be the summer sun rising up above me, and I shall be the cold ground beneath you, dependent upon you to warm me and give me life.”

When Celestia’s eyebrow raised, Gosling swallowed and knew that he’d have to try harder.

“Our love will be a summer’s race through the verdant lands, hot, sweaty, and breathless. It shall be a reckless romp”—a quick assessment revealed that Cadance was nodding, Raven was rolling her eyes, and Celestia, the target of his charms, was hanging on his every word—“through many splendid peaks and valleys.”

Raven, looking disgusted, began to mutter, “Metaphors and analogies, very good, Gosling. With luck, you’ll pass secondary school composition for your strained sophomoric efforts.”

“Go forth into the savage lands, face the crowds, and return to me my love, so that I might worship you and adore you,” Gosling continued, undaunted. Dropping his voice down an octave or two, he put on his best saucy smirk and threw the full force of his charisma into his words. “Come back to me successful, having swayed the hearts and minds of many, and I will be your noble steed… a thoroughbred destined to be saddled, to be ridden hard—”

“Gosling…” Celestia bit her lip and the corner of her eye began twitching.

“—and if I am to be your noble steed, you… you will be my crotch jockey—”

“YOUR WHAT?” both Celestia and Cadance said together in unison.

“My noble crotch jockey,” he repeated, undaunted. “And you shall ride me from horizon to horizon as we explore the lands that are our love.”

With a terrific, whooping honk that filled the throne room, Celestia exploded and then began laughing so hard that she fell from her throne. After a moment, she choked, coughed, sputtered, and still, she struggled to draw enough air to keep laughing, unable to stop herself. The entirety of her body turned pink, first a light shade that suggested the dawn, then more of a cotton candy pink, then a vibrant shade, until at last she rivaled the labial pink of Gosling’s sweater. Whooping and honking, she rolled over onto her back and Raven, who did not look amused, had to scramble to get out of the way.

“We’ve got a code pink,” Raven deadpanned, “and the speech begins in eleven minutes.”

“A crotch jockey?” Cadance, looking both confused and amused, shook her head. “That is so incredibly foalish that I have no idea what to say. Good job, Gosling, you’ve outdone yourself and your maturity levels have hit an all new low. Congratulations. Of all of the words you could contribute to the Equestrian lexicon, you will be remembered for ‘crotch jockey.’ Auntie will see to that, no doubt.”

“I do my best.” There was a muffled whump as Celestia rolled down the first carpet covered step and Gosling had to sidestep her unfurled wings, which flapped from Celestia’s explosive mirth. For all intents and purposes, Celestia appeared to be drunk with laughter, her eyes were red, and she was crying. It was a job well done, and Gosling felt more than a little pride.

Lowering his head down, he darted in, gave the big white mare a quick peck on the cheek, and then scooted away before he was clubbed by a flailing limb. As he made good on his escape, she looked up at him with such an intense look of love in her eyes that it took his breath away.

Now, she began rolling in earnest, as if the carpet around her throne was sweet summer’s grass. Kicking her legs about, she rubbed her croup and her withers against the soft nap of the carpet. She snorted, an impressive sound capable of spooking a steam locomotive, and then began grunting as she really got into scratching her croup.

Raven, frustrated, shook her head hard enough to make her ears flap. “She’s acting like a—”

“A pony?” Gosling finished. “Raven, for you, sometimes I think Celestia is a component in your daily objective or a means to get things done. She gets tired of being a mouthpiece. A means to an end. She’s more than a portable oration device that gets dusted off and dragged out to important social functions. Princess Celestia… portable pony phonograph—”

“You’re right, Gosling,” Raven huffed and she took a moment to watch Celestia have a good roll on the floor. “It was the constant adherence to unchanging routine that contributed to her breakdown. You know what, Gosling, there has been a change in schedule.”

“There has?” Something about Raven’s demeanour worried him. Raven simply did not deviate from the schedule.

“You’re going to take Celestia away and see that she gets pampered. This is your assignment for the day. She needs a day of rest so that she can be at her best for the school gala tomorrow night.” Raven’s imperious tone was commanding and left no room for argument.

“What about her speech?” Cadance asked as she watched her aunt wriggle on the floor.

“Well,” Raven replied, “you just so happen to be a princess and a hero. I have Celestia’s index cards. You’ll have to wing it, Cadance.”

“I can do that.” Cadance’s muzzle now had a nervous smile plastered across it and her eyes glazed over with anxiety. “It’ll be fine. Just fine. Everything will be fine.”

“Good,” Raven replied, “we should be going. Now…”

Author's Note

Updates should be a bit more regular soonish.

Chapter 34

The Royal Baths was a location that Gosling knew that Celestia had little opportunity to visit. It was, perhaps, the most opulent and luxurious location in all of Canterlot Castle, but was also the spot that was least populated by royals. Foreign dignitaries were ushered in, their senses dulled, and then afterwards, they underwent the diplomatic process while trying to recover from being pampered almost to death. It was wildly successful, and the reason why Equestria had so many peaceful relations.

In the winter months, it fell into disuse and was now almost dusty. Gosling followed after Celestia, her dutiful, devoted servant, and as the pair of them walked the lights flickered to life. No electric lights here, no, Celestia had long ago bottled sunlight, real, actual sunlight, and the lamps began to do battle with the chilly air. This was a place of healing, of restoration, a place where spirit, soul, and body could be tended to.

“Attend to me,” Celestia commanded and her voice rang out like a bell.

Much to Gosling’s surprise, the room came to life and he had a vivid reminder of just how powerful Celestia’s magic could be. Tables came to life and began to prance around on spindly, spider-like legs. Whole cupboards moved about, opening their doors and revealing their contents. Water began to flow into what could only be called a swimming pool. With what almost appeared to be reckless abandon, Celestia began tossing alchemical bombs into the pool.

One of the chairs came running up to Celestia and rubbed up against her leg like an overly-affectionate puppy.

“I have been overwhelmed by everything,” Celestia confessed in a muted whisper. “So much to prepare for. So much to plan for. Things are happening, Gosling, big things are taking place out beyond our borders. This past week has been especially taxing with all of the preparations for the school gala. And this is with the huge recruitment drive to get ponies to join the guard. I am worn thin, and it pains me to admit to this.”

Unsure of what to say, Gosling nodded. It was obvious that Celestia needed to vent.

“The dead from the front lines are already returning home. It pains me that we are taking losses. I included it in my speech and I was going to make it a point to look into the eyes of those in attendance that I knew had lost somepony. At least, I was working up the nerve to do so, but I was having a great many problems. Sometimes, the pain in those eyes is too much to bear, and sometimes, the anger is too much to witness. I always feel that I have much to answer for, as it is I who sent them off to war beyond our borders.”

Still silent, Gosling said nothing, knowing just how bad things really were. He kept up with the reports and listened to what Blueblood had to say when Blueblood had to say something. Most of the time, very little was said and there was only a quiet acknowledgement of the numbers. Blueblood made it a point to visit families in Canterlot that had lost somepony, and plans were being laid down for Gosling to start doing the same. It was not a duty that he was eager to begin, but do it he would.

The air filled with the swirling scent of perfumes and sweet oils as the pool began to flood with hot water and the alchemical bath bombs began to dissolve. All around him, the chilly air began to warm and with the humidity from the hot water, this place began to feel like spring. Celestia was conjuring things that she wanted, such as a pitcher of orange juice filled with ice cubes, a jar of green olives, (Gosling knew that she would drink the brine first) and an assortment of snacks, all of which were laid out on tables eager to see action once more.

“It felt good to laugh, Gosling, thank you. I know I didn’t look it, but I really was quite stricken. That’s the problem, Gosling… I am not the pony that so many of my subjects think I am. Sometimes, it feels as though I am being dishonest with them, and this leaves me feeling guilty and conflicted.”

“When we were dating, and you fainted—”

“Did not!” Celestia’s voice was a thundercrack that made Gosling’s ears quiver.

In a more diplomatic approach, Gosling tried again: “When you overheated—ahem—you told me that you were still a pony and that immortality did not mean invulnerability. You told me right up front that you have weaknesses, that you were less than perfect, and that you have shortcomings. Why is it that you could reveal all of that to me but you feel the need to hide it from everypony else?”

“You asked me if I liked back rubs…” Turning about, Celestia studied the smaller pegasus with a wise expression upon her face. “A few moments before, I felt the tweak of destiny… I felt a wibble, Gosling—”

“A wibble?” Gosling tilted his head off to one side.

“Yes, a wibble… I am sensitive to the demands of destiny, Gosling, it is part of my nature. But I knew that I loved you. That I would love you. I knew that certain things would come to pass between us. It is part of what I am, I suppose, and the purpose I serve. I just know things. I knew that the clock was running out and that Twilight Velvet or Twilight Sparkle would be the one to free Luna. There is much I know… and I knew that I loved you. Or would love you. Time runs differently for me, Gosling. It all bleeds together.”

“But why tell me?” Gosling asked, feeling more confused than ever.

At this Celestia shrugged and after a moment of thinking of what to say, she responded, “For you to love me back, you needed to understand me, I suppose. You are painfully mortal, Gosling, and I… I am eternal. I am beyond your realm of comprehension. I guess I was letting the drawbridge down, so to speak, and inviting you into my castle so that we might at least have some little understanding of one another.”

“I remember the night I plundered your royal treasury,” Gosling remarked, and he smiled when his words made Celestia titter. He started to laugh, but fell prey to his own seriousness. “There is something precious in there… in your treasury, I mean. It catches me off guard sometimes and I think about it… and I don’t know how to feel.”

The both of them stood there, now in silence, listening to the rumbling roar of the cascading water that filled the pool. Celestia’s titters had faded into a warm expression of concern at Gosling’s words. Now, they just stared at one another, sometimes blinking, and their fuzzy ears twitched with hopeful anticipation of future words.

In a moment that showed off his true intelligence, Gosling made a connection and looking into Celestia’s eyes, he sought confirmation. “Your ability to peek into the future… you have to be in contact with a pony, otherwise, you’d just know everything. This is why you have your school, isn’t it? To expose yourself to ponies in a controlled way and to get a feel for destiny. That was how you knew about Twilight Velvet and Twilight Sparkle, right?”

Celestia turned away for a moment and watched as the water poured from the ornate gold faucet. Her lips were pursed and it was obvious to Gosling that she was choosing her words and doing so with great care. For him, it was all of the confirmation that he needed, and even if he wasn’t entirely right, he was right enough for it to matter.

“It is one way of many,” Celestia replied. “But you are right. I need exposure to become aware and this is how I can be blindsided by certain events. A total lack of exposure. There are times when I get lucky though and things just work themselves out.” She drew in a deep breath, her barrel expanding, and then she stood there, shaking her head from side to side.

“A few years back, after a series of tragic events, I came into contact with the most remarkable little colt. He was pitiful, mind you, in terrible, tragic condition, and he had been most heinously abused. He had been abused with magic, mind you, which is why he was brought to me. Through all of those most awful of circumstances and coincidence, I met him and knew that he was destined to be special, but I wasn’t quite certain how.”

Angered, Gosling gnawed upon his lip with nothing to say.

“Was it luck? Fate? Agents of destiny working in ways that I cannot comprehend? I don’t know, but it was fortunate that I was able to see him… to touch him… but I knew that I was dealing with something extraordinary, so plans were made. I entrusted his care with those who had also been touched by destiny, by fate, by whatever it is that made this possible, and lo and behold, things have worked out.” Celestia’s smile was secretive and satisfied, a combination that made Gosling’s heart start thumping.

Even with his pounding, racing heart, he was still sad from the words she had said.

Again, he turned to watch the pouring water that fell from the gargantuan faucet. A torrent poured from the ornate gold spout and steam curled up from the pearl-encrusted edges. The steam offered no glimpses into the future, it showed him no visions, offered him no wisdom. Gosling had heard of ponies who could peek into the future, but he was never quite sure what he believed—though he believed Celestia. Most of the time, it was a matter of parting a fool and their bits. If they could really see the future, he reasoned, Celestia would be employing them for the betterment of Equestria.

“Are there others who can see into the future?”

Gosling’s question was met with silence and he didn’t bother to look at Celestia to see her reaction. The falling water was fascinating enough to hold his attention, and when his hope for an answer began to fade from existence, Celestia’s voice made his ears perk.

“Twilight Sparkle is learning,” the alabaster alicorn replied, her voice muted. “She is gifted. In time, I suspect that her abilities will surpass my own. Or maybe that is my vanity speaking. Every good teacher wants their students to be outstanding. Cadance has exceeded my every expectation and Twilight actively seeks out new ways to impress me.”

Vanity? Gosling’s perfect, chiseled jaw set at the word, and he reflected on what he knew about Celestia. Vanity was a problem, but was celebrating your own perfection really so bad? As it turned out, he was of two minds on the issue; vanity wasn’t such a bad thing, unless of course it ran out of control and began to diminish others. Gosling liked to believe that he had a good handle on his vanity—he was, after all, a very pretty pony—but he didn’t think his beauty made him better than anypony else and he always tried to find the beauty in others. Yes, that was it, Gosling was a pony that appreciated beauty—demanded it even—and he would go out of his way to help others find whatever it was that was beautiful about themselves.

Beautiful ponies were happy ponies, and Gosling liked happy ponies.

“And what of your current student?” Gosling asked as his own vanity overwhelmed him.

“Oh, that little scoundrel,” Celestia replied without skipping a beat, “he called me a ‘crotch jockey.’ Can you believe that? Clearly he failed to pay attention to the fact that I desire to be mounted. I am not the rider, I wish to be ridden.”

Red faced, Gosling felt every muscle in his body go tense. Whoops. That was going to go on his permanent record, no doubt. A quick glance at Celestia revealed that she stood with her head high, looking both amused and indignant. When no praise seemed to be forthcoming, he let out a sigh and resigned himself to his fate. He had accomplished much, and he knew what it was, so he would just have to be happy with that.

“Whatta mug.” Clucking his tongue, Gosling shook his head from side to side. “Somepony should do something about him, and sort him out.”

“Oh, shut up, take off that silly sweater, and get in the water, Gosling…”

The moment that Gosling put a hoof into the water, he was attacked by vicious bubbles. They came at him like he imagined piranhas would, swarming him, and he could feel them clinging to his leg. It was one of the most weird things he had ever experienced and he let out a whimpering cry of alarm. Celestia, being the helpful sort that she was, sorted Gosling out by planting one hoof onto his rump and shoving him into the deep water, where the bubbles all came for him at once.

After several panicked seconds, Gosling realised that the bubbles were scrubbing him somehow. There was a splash followed by rolling waves as Celestia plopped into the massive bath basin and she let out a honk of relief seconds before she submerged. Still feeling a little alarmed, or perhaps still jittery from being alarmed, Gosling tried to focus on the sensations of what was happening to his body. The bubbles, he could feel them nibbling, yes, nibbling was the only way he could describe it. They were everywhere, nibbling at everything, and although the sensation wasn’t painful, it was disconcerting.

When Celestia broke the surface several long seconds later, there was a serene look upon her face. She bobbed in the water, swanlike, with rivulets of bubble-laced liquid streaming from her contours. Gosling was so dumbfounded by what he saw that he failed to notice that Celestia’s mane and tail were corporeal and each strand shimmered like an oil slick. When he did notice, he was too flummoxed by the sum of all he experienced to say anything.

“Of all of the things that are on my mind,” Celestia began in a voice that wavered from distress, “the war bothers me the most. This won’t be like other wars, Gosling. I fear there will not be a definable front. Not in the traditional sense. This is going to change our way of life… our way of thinking… this will change us as a nation and I am not sure if the ponies of Equestria are ready for such changes.”

“Change happens, even if we’re not ready for it.” Gosling hesitated, speaking these words, and hoped that he didn’t sound trite. “Nothing can stay the same, not even you. If we’re not changing, then we’ve reached a state of stagnation.”

“All of this change comes at a price, Gosling, and a dreadful one at that.”

This time, Gosling did not reply, but floated in the water, listening.

When she spoke, Celestia’s face turned downcast with sorrow, like a cloud passing beneath the sun and casting a shadow. “The cost of war, Gosling… every son and daughter is a debt that my sister and I must repay. We’re borrowing against our shared future, and every precious drop of blood spilt must be accounted for and paid back. We’re still paying a debt for the conflicts in our past. Well, I am… Luna wasn’t even present during our last civil war, but she shares the debt as well now that she has returned.”

Before he could even think about what it was that he was saying, Gosling blurted out, “I would share that debt with you.”

The look that Celestia gave him made Gosling cringe a little, because he couldn’t read her face. At this moment, she was almost alien, unknowable, she was a vault of mysteries that he would never open, and the distance between the two of them seemed impassable. She was a beautiful, perfect, immortal sun goddess and he… he was not.

“This is what I love about you…” The corners of Celestia’s mouth were pulled upwards and her eyes shone with some marvellous inner light. “You have a desire, an eagerness to do good, even if you don’t fully understand what is going on. You don’t even need to understand what it is that you are getting into just so long as you are taking some kind of action. You are fearless, bold, and so eager to please.”

Gosling made the only response that seemed apropos: “My mother raised me right. I lived in constant fear of her dying because of my misdeeds. Frail health… she could have died at any moment.”

Throwing her head back, Celestia let out a whoop and then she laughed. Still laughing, she rolled over in the water and then almost submerged, with only her head above the surface. And how she laughed. Following her example, Gosling also rolled in the water so that the cleansing bubbles could reach everything. As he floated, suspended in the hot embrace of water, he wondered what he was doing here, what wonderful circumstance had brought him to this place, with this mare, to share this moment.

Gosling, who had become far more canny about the goings on of this hidden life, suspected that Cadance had something to do with it. Very little was done directly and everything was a puppet show, but done in such a way to make one believe that they had achieved the end result by their own doing. Now, he was a rubber ducky in a very big bathtub with a very big mare and he had sacrificed most of his own free agency for a lifetime of drudgery and servitude. Such was life.

“What are you two doing down here?”

Startled, Gosling thrashed in the water, but Celestia wasn’t alarmed at all.

“Luna, shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“We had a bad dream,” Luna replied as she stepped out of the shadows and revealed herself. “We are troubled, and in need of comfort. We had need of Our sister… and Our friend, so We came looking.”

With a swift, sudden movement, Luna dove into the bath, and hit the water with hardly a sound or a splash. Where Celestia had caused tidal waves, Luna scarcely stirred up a ripple. After a moment submerged, she surfaced, and her mane had become a million loose, flowing strands. When Gosling looked at her, he could only think of the secrets she was hiding, keeping from him, and this left him troubled.

Luna it seemed, was in a chatty mood, and before anypony could even ask, her troubles poured out in a flood. “We were beset by angry widows and widowers, parents, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, all of them demanding to know why We had thrown their loved ones into the ravenous gears and machinery of war. They wanted to see the face of Our enemy, they longed for something to satisfy their hatred, but there was no face, and there was no clearly defined enemy. There were only rumours, shadows, lies, deceit, and treachery. We saw Canterlot become as a ruin, beset by rats of all things, and Our great society was toppled by Our unseen foe.”

“The rats are clearly dream symbolism to warn of something else,” Celestia said as Luna bobbed in the water beside her. “Something treacherous and sneaky that hides in plain sight.”

“The Ascendency?” Gosling hoped that he would not appear too stupid for tossing this out.

“That seems likely,” Celestia replied. “They are, indeed, scurrying rats living among us.”

“Having to deal with Grogar is bad enough, but having to also deal with the Ascendency at the same time makes everything so much harder. It feels like we are striking out at intangible shadows.” Making a bold move, Gosling reached out in the water, embraced Luna, and pulled her close without hanging on too tight. Much to his shock and surprise, she returned the embrace and he could feel her trembling against him. This wasn’t like her at all, at least from what he knew of her, and he began to worry.

In a troubled voice, Luna had this to say while she clung to Gosling: “Perhaps We should seek the help of those most equipped to deal with shadows and intangible foes—”

“You speak of the Darks.” Celestia’s voice sounded strained to Gosling’s ears when she said this.

“Yes,” Luna replied.

“The same Darks that provided magical services to Mariner—”

“A regrettable action in hindsight, yes.”

“The Darks are all mad…” Celestia said each word with exquisite slowness, drawing it out while her face contorted with disgust. “Still, such madness is an asset I tolerate, just for occasions where the enemy’s primary weapon is insanity. You cannot make mad what already is. In the past, the Darks have proven themselves most invaluable. Sinister Dark was one of my finest pupils…”

“No asset goes untapped with the two of you, does it?” Gosling asked.

“No,” both sisters said together.

“I don’t understand… if these ponies are mad, then what use are they and how do they become heroes?” Gosling relaxed his hold on Luna a little more and allowed her to cling to him, which seemed to be the trick when trying to get her to be affectionate.

“It’s like herding cats,” Celestia replied and she spoke the words with much distaste. “You draw them from their asylum, you ply them and manipulate them by offering to satiate their lusts somehow. Then you point them in the general direction of the enemy and hope that the enemy does something to enrage them. Once provoked, the fuzzy little engine of death, desolation, despair, destruction, and darkness goes on a rampage. You give this conflict a wide berth because the Darks are indiscriminate with their devastation and have no concept of friendly fire. When the conflict is done, you send an emissary to your former foe to apologise for the unpleasantness and then you offer to help clean up the mess. Hopefully, the Dark in question dies in the conflict, or barring that, is given whatever it takes to get them to go back into their dreadful asylum.”

“That’s cold, Sunshine.”

“They are the last resort option.” Celestia shook her head from side to side and her eyes glittered with some unknown emotion. “Turning to the Darks for help is the scorched earth option. It’s nice to have the option if you need it, but you dread having to use it. If it became necessary, I would dispatch a Dark towards conflict without hesitation, but I would also dread the aftermath.”

“Perhaps We can coax one out to deal with the coming conflict with the dragons,” Luna suggested. “The dragons respect strength and power above all else. The Dragon Lady Ember strives to forge a nation, and We find her actions admirable. Her cause is noble.”

“She must somehow prove herself worthy as a leader,” Celestia said, sighing out the words. “She has the most wonderful of ideas, she has courage, she has all of the right stuff to do what has never been done before. It is my sincere hope that she can do the impossible.” Pausing, her eyes became distant and unfocused as she became lost in thought. “If the opportunity presented itself, I would send aid if I could. It would be fortuitous if the right circumstances presented themselves.”

“We desire a respite from Our troubles,” Luna said in a voice that was almost—but not quite—a whine. “And maybe snuggles. We are troubled and are in need of comfort.”

“Very well, Luna. What is it that you would like to talk about while we have a good soak?”

Author's Note

A lot went into the making of this chapter.

Chapter 35

No plans survived a hot bath, no matter how necessary it felt to make them. Feeling a little drowsy, Gosling watched as Celestia did some spell while she floated in the steaming water. What that spell was, he had no idea, but she seemed relaxed and happy so he didn’t interrupt her. Luna, drowsy, seemed to be calming down, and she too, watched as her sister performed magic.

The glittering light of Celestia’s magic continued for a time, and then grew in brilliant, dazzling intensity, causing the bath water to come alive. A million tiny diamonds seemed to spring into existence around them and little motes of magical fire that Gosling did not remember the name of danced along the water’s surface. Celestia’s face was one of serene beauty, with her eyes closed and her mouth in a relaxed, almost smiling position.

Above Gosling’s head, the projected image of a planet appeared and if he was careful, he could make out landmasses as well as oceans. A tiny sun sprang into existence, burning bright, and half of the world was bathed in golden light. As if on cue, a miniature moon popped into existence and the other half of the world now shone with silver light. Luna’s drowsiness vanished as she snapped to attention and the light of the mini-moon could be seen reflecting in her eyes.

Much to Gosling’s surprise and amazement, little red dots began to appear on the globe, popping into existence as the sun and moon danced about the planet in their respective orbits. Squinting, Gosling tried to recognise the various landmasses and he wondered what the red dots were. Some places had many red dots, others had few. Equestria as it turned out, had hardly any.

“What is this?” Gosling asked as Luna began weaving her own magic into the projected image above the bath.

“Grogar’s agents emanate a peculiar energy.” Celestia’s words were a soft murmur and her speaking did not take away from her concentration. “They keep finding new ways to hide it, and through the power of my sun, I keep searching for new ways to find them.”

“We do not understand the nature of the magic involved, or what is even being done to these agents.” Luna seemed to be adding her own touches to the projected image, such as swirling clouds, visible ocean currents, and splendid, spectacular cities alive with tiny details.

“Must you show off?” Celestia demanded of her sister.

“Must you be so plain and boring?” Luna quipped in response without looking at her sibling. “Trottingham and Liverypool are thoroughly infiltrated. This is quite distressing and We are of the opinion that they will fall sooner, rather than later.”

“Can nothing be done to help them?” Gosling asked.

“They do not wish to be helped. They would rather continue to bicker about tribalism, superiourity, and the rights of their city-states, rather than what their nation needs a whole. I fear that they are already lost. When and if they come to their senses, and they come to us for help, we shall help them. But in the meantime, these isles might become a serious threat to our security.”

“So this is Mister Mariner all over again.” Gosling cringed a little when the two sisters both turned to stare at him, and he felt his throat go tight. “I mean, you both are aware that there is major trouble brewing, you’re watching as the dominoes line up, and you can’t do anything about it for fear of looking like tyrants. This is supremely frustrating.”

“If We had our way,” Luna muttered, “a pre-emptive invasion would be launched and those isles would be swept clean, but even We admit that doing such would have drastic, perhaps even unintended consequences. It would be a foolish move that would endanger much, while getting rid of the obvious threat.”

“To protect the world, you’d have to take over the world.” Nodding, Gosling understood the issue. Deep down in his heart, he suspected that the world might be a better place if Celestia and Luna did take it over. “Equestria is a tiny place, in the bigger scope of things, an island of enlightenment… and I guess that the two of you have to figure out some way of keeping Equestria safe even while the rest of the world collapses into darkness.”

“There may come a point where I am forced to act.” Celestia breathed out these words, and she sounded troubled to Gosling’s ears. “Should we ever reach what I feel is a tipping point, Equestria will undergo rapid border expansion and I would bring my most terrible magicks to bear, magicks that the world has long since forgotten about. For now, I shall have to rely upon the agents of fate and the work they do. There are heroes in the world, Gosling, and they do good work. We must maintain hope that their stout hearts remain true.”

“That’s your fear, isn’t it?” With a splash, Gosling moved a little closer to the troubled white alicorn. “You worry that you might have to step in for their own good, and somehow justify tyranny. It really is the Mariner situation all over again, because you had a nervous breakdown over the very idea of being seen as a tyrant.”

Celestia replied with deafening silence and a troubled, heartbroken expression.

“More and more of Grogar’s minions gather in Saddle Arabia,” Luna said as the projected image turned and a land filled with red dots came into view. “They foolishly maintain their neutrality and refuse to see Grogar as a threat. The Saddle Arabians feel that even questionable empires have their place in the world. We have sent envoys, but they will not listen to reason.”

“Zebrabwe remains our strongest ally, if I recall rightly from what I learned in the morning meetings.” Searching the world, Gosling found it, a vast, endless plain, a continent on the other side of the world located on the southern hemisphere. “Grogar fears the zebras even more than he fears us. The zebra’s spirit magics pose a significant threat to him and his followers. They are natural healers and Grogar presents himself as a disease. They have advantages that we don’t.”

“We are proud of you,” Luna said to Gosling, “for you have learned much in a short time. Times like this make up for your cocky idiocy.”

“Luna, forsooth… how could you? Gosling’s cocky idiocy is just what is needed around here. He’s the closest that we’ve had to a jester in a very long time indeed.” Reaching out with one hoof, Celestia shoved her sister down into the water, dunking her and then let out a humongous sigh of satisfaction as the water around her submerged sister seemed to boil with bubbles.

Luna came up spluttering and spitting out soap bubbles.

“I have already begun to strategise with Gosling in mind.” Celestia’s lips formed an exaggerated moue and she ignored the seething stare of her drenched sibling. “He makes a worthwhile distraction, the media loves to focus on everything he does, and let’s be honest… he’s quite pleasing to look at. If I trot him out into a room, he is going to be looked at. That’s advantageous to me. Yes, Gosling is my little ducky decoy.”

Gosling went to protest, but Celestia cut him off.

“Kibitz approaches,” she said, “and he bears strange magic.”

Looking apologetic, Kibitz stood at the edge of the bath, his mustache quivering, and his glasses fogged over from the steam. “My most sincere apologies, Majesties, but I have this potion from Zecora, and a heartfelt apology that it did not arrive sooner. It seems that the first batch exploded.”

This was not reassuring, not in the slightest.

“Kibitz, care to join us?” Celestia asked while making an inviting wave at the water.

“I am flattered, Your Majesty, but there is much to be done.” Kibitz sucked in a deep breath and then added, “Oh, good news, Your Majesty, all of the tickets for access to Gosling have sold out.”

“Say what?”

“Shush, Gosling.” Celestia placed a soggy, soapy hoof over Gosling’s open mouth to silence him and then turned to address her stuffy majordomo while the pegasus pulled away, sputtering and spitting out soap. “Did I just hear you correctly? Sold out, you say? But I gave you some ridiculous number as a joke, Kibitz.”

“Oh, my most sincere apologies, Your Majesty, I took you at your word. Dreadfully sorry, Madam.” Kibitz’s posture became starchy and he stared straight ahead.

“What?” Gosling asked in between spitting out soap bubbles.

“Oh dear,” Celestia gasped and she began to rub her neck with her hoof. “All of them?”

“All of them.” Kibitz’s response seemed weary somehow and he continued to stare straight ahead.

“What hast thou done?” Luna asked.

“Charitable efforts,” Celestia replied while shaking her head. “Kibitz, honestly, I was being silly when I gave you those numbers. In the past, you have always made much needed corrections and done what was right—”

“But sister, what was done?” Luna wrapped her forelegs around Celestia’s neck and shook her. “What did you do and why hast thou sold out Our shared husband?”

“Oh, this is a pickle… this will last longer than the scheduled gala.” Celestia ignored Luna’s efforts and her eyes narrowed while she tried to concentrate. “That was three hundred tickets… that’s what, five hours?”

“Tickets?” Gosling asked, feeling afraid and not knowing why. The feeling of his own impending doom was unpleasant. “Sunshine, what did you do to me? Sunshine?” Turning his head, he looked up at Kibitz. “Hey, yous, I wanna know what is going on.”

“The Weeping Sister Hospital is scheduled to receive what might be the largest donation on record,” the majordomo replied with his best dry wit.

“Sister, hast thou resorted to pimping—”

“Luna, come on, I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.” Once more, Celestia dunked her sibling into the bath, shoving her down and holding her beneath the water for a time. “That’s a substantial amount of bits, given just how awful everything is right now.” While Celestia spoke, Luna came up coughing and spitting out bubbles.

Gosling pulled Luna close and began to pound her on the back, which seemed to turn her into a bubble blower. She whooped a few times, coughed, and this entire time, Kibitz stood passive on the edge of the enormous bath basin while Celestia rubbed her chin. In what was sure to be a smart move, Gosling retreated from the dunk-happy alicorn and took Luna with him.

“Three hundred tickets at one hundred gold bits a ticket… whew.” Celestia let out a huff, nodded, and then turned her rosy eyes upon Gosling. “Each ticket can be redeemed for one minute of your time in a private dance and one friendly kiss as well, should it be requested. I had no idea that so many parents would buy so many tickets for their foals… they must think highly of you, Gosling. You should feel flattered.”

“I… don’t?” Now clinging to Luna in terror, Gosling tried desperately to do some math.

“Oh, and you have to wear a ridiculous sweater, too.”

Whimpering, Gosling hugged Luna even tighter, and she belched out a stream of rainbow-hued soap bubbles. “Nopony consulted with me about this—”

“I didn’t think this would be a runaway success,” Celestia said while she cut Gosling off with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Gosling, you’re going to be a much beloved celebrity when you drop off that thirty thousand gold bits donation to the Weeping Sister Hospital. We need this kind of political capital right now, given everything that’s just happened. Now go drink that potion and regrow your wings.”

For a mare so hesitant about being tyrannical to strangers, Gosling realised that Celestia had no such compunctions when it came to exploiting him. This was not the first time that he had seen her ruthless side, but this was still no less surprising. She was entirely willing to hawk him out… and… and… he had willingly chosen this life. This was a matter of duty, so it would be done. Five hours of one minute dances, no doubt with some little filly that had dreams of dancing with a prince, and not Prince Blueblood. No, Gosling was the approachable prince, and this was his life now. He sighed, defeated before he could even register his protests.

“At least you’ll have something to show for your efforts, Gosling… Twilight and I have to stand upon the grand staircase and shake hooves for hours. I’ll be limping for weeks and I’ll have cramps in my face from all that forced smiling that will last for days. Days of face cramps. It is my sincere hope that mischief breaks out. I’ve invited all manner of troublemakers with the hopes that everything goes spectacularly wrong.”

“That seems counterproductive—”

“Gosling, when you live as long as I have, you hope for a little mischief to break up the tedium. Already, the owners of several novelty shops have reported to me that there has been increased sales in magical candies, the gassy kind in particular and this should be a memorable school gala by the looks of things. Now, go drink that potion. I want to see those wings of yours, because I’m in need of distraction. Hop to it, Gosling.”

With a sigh of resignation, Gosling moved to obey the bidding of his beloved princess…

Author's Note

:trollestia: - That thing I do? It ain't easy.

Chapter 36

Powerful shudders of revulsion felt as though they would tear Gosling limb from limb. The potion? Indescribable. He could feel things slithering beneath the flesh of his wings as bowling balls bounced together inside of his guts. Eyes wide, teeth bared, Gosling was forced to endure the most unpleasant of sensations, and he reminded himself that this was to get his wings back. The contents of his stomach boiled back up into his mouth, and he was forced to swallow, because he had to keep the potion inside of him for it to work.

“This tastes like ass!” He managed to spit out the words and then felt the contents of his stomach burning the back of his tongue.

“How many asses have you tasted?” Luna asked while she stood near, her head tilted off to one side in concern as water dripped from her body down upon the floor.

In between gags of revulsion, he replied, “Just one.” Then, he was overtaken by a fit of coughing.

With a serene calm, Luna turned to face her sister, who remained in the immense bathing basin. “Sister,” she said in a deadpan constructed of pure, dry snark, “wash more. Swamp ass does not become thee.”

“This is coming from She of the Deadly Downdraft.”

Luna’s cheeks puffed out and her lips puckered into an angry pout. Gosling meanwhile, was consumed by a terrible coughing fit, and he staggered around while trying to get much needed air into his lungs. His naked, featherless wings waved about as he flapped, and curious bulges could be seen moving beneath the pale pink flesh. One of his flailing wings clipped Luna in the head, sent her sprawling, and then Luna slipped in a puddle of soapy water.

Being an alicorn of immense grace, Luna scrambled to regain her balance—she flapped liked a madpony, with much sound and a few lost feathers falling—while Kibitz stood watching with a calm expression. Suffering total failure, Luna tumbled into the bath with a splash as well as an indignant hoot and the resulting lunar tsunami smacked Celestia in the face.

“Majestic,” Kibitz deadpanned while Luna thrashed in the water and Celestia began spitting out bubbles. When Gosling drew too close, the stuffy, calm unicorn sidestepped and fell back to a safer location. Somehow, Kibitz was still dry. “The things we do to maintain the illusion of dignity for the sake of the Empire.”

“Just think, Kibitz”—Celestia was forced to pause so that she could belch out a blast of soap bubbles and she somehow did so while maintaining her serious mien—“without us, the world would most certainly end. We are all that stands between what is good and total, absolute destruction.”

“I am so filled with hope by your statement that I fear it may come squirting out of my ears,” Kibitz replied while his mustache trembled. “Certainly, something is going to come squirting out of somewhere should total, absolute destruction come along.”

The first pinfeathers tore through Gosling’s flesh and bright droplets of scarlet trickled along his naked wings, forming glistening ribbons. Growing in new feathers was painful to begin with, and Gosling was now growing in all of his new feathers at once. Pale white sheaths pierced thin, fragile skin as they tore their way free. Some of the sheaths were whole inches long and quite thick.

Foul smelling sweat now poured from Gosling’s pores, and it felt as though every inch of his skin was burning from within. The white sheaths of his future feathers gleamed like maniacal misplaced teeth that grew from out of his wings. His teeth were bared in a fierce grimace of pain, and he snorted with each breath he took.

Down in the water, Luna waited, her front hooves resting upon the edge of the basin, and her chin rested upon them. Celestia had regained her composure and she too watched as the transformation took place. Magic cures and restorations existed, and while they were beneficial, they were seldom gentle or pleasant.

Some of the sheaths began to crumble; flecks of white swirled down to the floor like snowflakes, revealing the feathers within. Primaries of exceptional length were now present, but the feathers had not yet expanded into their proper shape. Radiating an intense aura of utter calm, Kibitz pulled a styptic pencil from his stylish dark purple crushed velvet frock coat. Raising an eyebrow, his mustache quivering with each shallow breath, he waited for the transformation to finish so that he could begin his work to staunch the flow of blood.

“Whenever you are ready, Your Majesty,” the old, dignified unicorn said to Gosling while he stood ready. “I’ll not have you bleeding out on my watch, that’s for certain.”

Just when Gosling thought he couldn’t bear another moment, it all took a turn for the worse…

Tossing her head about, Luna did nothing to hide her worry. Things hadn’t gone well; Celestia had said that nopony had taken the sheer size of Gosling’s new wings into account. Growing a few feathers on a short, stubby pegasus wing wasn’t too terrible—as these things go—but Gosling no longer had short, stubby pegasus wings. The sheer number of feathers that had grown in was astounding, and Luna was already curious about how this would affect his magical physiology.

With a tender touch, she worked to pull and pluck away the remains of many sheaths, though she was mindful of his many fresh new pinfeathers, which were filled with blood. Over time, each feather would transform, and the blood would only be found in the base of the shaft; Gosling was at a real risk to suddenly start bleeding if something damaged his newly grown feathers. Every single pinfeather was sensitive, and disturbing them too much would cause agonising pain. Growing in one or two pinfeathers was painful, and at the moment, Gosling was nothing but pinfeathers.

“Drink this, Gosling,” Celestia commanded as she pressed a wineglass to his lips. Inside there was something thick, syrupy, something that was a bold red, and it clung to the sides of the glass. “It’s cherry cordial, mixed with a few drops of poppy tincture.”

Gosling’s response was slurred from pain as the glass was pressed to his lips. “I don’t like poppy juice.”

“I assure you, there is very little in there. The ninety-six proof cherry liquor will be the real heavy hitter.”

When Gosling’s lips parted, Celestia poured the drink down his gullet, and Luna found that she was quite surprised by how well he handled himself. He shuddered, made faces, blinked his eyes a few times as tears streamed down his cheeks, and then went still. Luna’s eyes stung from the scent of the hard alcohol and she watched as her sister poured more cherry cordial from the bottle.

This glass she drank herself, and Luna raised one hopeful eyebrow.

It had been a long, long time since Celestia had seen Luna this concerned about anything. Luna was exhausted, by the looks of it, but wasn’t yawning. Her bleary eyes had vivid red spiderwebs in them and remained narrowed, almost squinty. A most unbecoming scowl was plastered onto Luna’s face as she paced the length of the room, and Celestia wished that Luna would sit down, because watching her go to and fro made Celestia want to pace as well.

Did she love him? Celestia hoped so. Nothing would be better than a return to the old ways, back when they were happy and trustful with one another. Sure, they didn’t have much in the way of individuality back in those days—being considered a single, glorious being with two bodies—but Celestia honestly didn’t mind such associations. Now that she was a little older, a little wiser, and had finally pulled her own horned head out of her nethers, it was Celestia’s most sincere hope that an official return of the Royal We would instil a much needed sense of equality in Luna, so that her sister would need not feel herself the lesser of the two of them.

If they could just bond over a shared interest—Gosling in this instance—Celestia was certain that Luna could be healed… restored. It was no longer a secret that Luna’s magic had been waning for a time—in fact, it had been downright wonky and there was the matter that Luna had fallen so easily to a darkness elemental. The scales of balance were still off, and this was quite alarming, given the sheer number of enemies that sought to devour Equestria.

Perhaps, she thought to herself, she might be getting a little too old, and maybe just a bit set in her ways. It felt that way sometimes, as Twilight and Cadance had more successes in the public eye. They were more ‘in touch’ with modern ponies. Then again… a thousand years from now and Cadance might not appear to be so young and hip. As for Twilight…

The pacing of her blue and moody sister drove Celestia to distraction. Alas, poor Luna. For a thousand years she had gone without prayer and devotion, and because of this, she was now somewhat stunted. Of course, Celestia would never say such aloud, but they were both aware of it. Luna had been almost completely forgotten, with all of her shrines and chapels having been torn down long ago. She had died, and because of this, she had faded from the memory of the public. At least this was set to change, with Gosling spearheading the restoration of Luna’s worship.

Celestia had a sincere hope that Gosling would dip his spearhead into the Holy Fount of the Moon Goddess…

Gosling’s feverish state made him shiver and the cherry cordial had dulled his senses. He couldn’t quite feel the couch he was sprawled upon, but he could feel a burning sensation in his wings. Lifting his head—a real struggle because it was so heavy—he looked into Celestia’s rose coloured eyes.

“Tell me a story,” he asked, and his voice sounded strange to him. “Not a silly story. Give me history. No funny business, I know how you are. No buttery ponies and clever, hungry dragons.” Through his blurred vision, he saw Celestia’s lips press together, and this made his ears rise in annoyance. “Serious. Story.”

“But the serious ones are so dreadful—”

“Serious. Story.” Gosling did his best to look commanding, but he was pretty sure he failed.

Sighing, Celestia’s ears drooped. “I could tell you a story about unicorns with curved horns.”

At this, Gosling shook his head and replied, “No… tell me something that is not in the history books.”

“The things not in the history books are best left forgotten—”

“But you lived through them and I know you remember.”

“There are times I wish I didn’t. My memory is long, Gosling, and filled with a great many terrible things. I have seen much that is best left forgotten.”

“But I wish to know.”

Again, Celestia sighed, and her face became downcast. “Very well, Gosling. There are things that cannot be unlearnt. It is time for you to learn a lesson and I will be your teacher. This seems to be a tradition with my students… all of them. Sunset Shimmer and I had this moment, as did Cadance and I, and even Twilight became a vessel of unwelcomed knowledge that I know she regrets to this very day.”

Luna paused in her pacing long enough to say, “Sister, don’t do it. You don’t have to give Gosling what he wants.”

Angling his neck, Gosling brought his head to rest against Celestia’s meaty thigh, and he waited while she prepared herself. He felt drowsy, but not sleepy—a strange feeling indeed—and he longed for a distraction from his pain. What had Celestia told Twilight? Was anything too terrible for Twilight to be repulsed and not take an interest in it?

“I will tell you something I’ve not told anypony for centuries, Gosling.” Celestia’s voice was strained, almost cracking, and Gosling’s ears pricked to an alert position. “A long, long time ago, there was a filly… and she watched as her kind grew desperate and callous against a terrible evil. She was an alicorn filly, you see, and it broke her heart to watch as her own kind ceased to be moral paragons. This started with her foalhood friend, whose name was Limey, and he was treated quite poorly by her elders.”

A few feet away, Luna ceased to pace, and Gosling heard her inhale, but not exhale.

“More and more, her elders gave up the moral high ground that they had fought for so long to defend, and the corruptive influence that filled the world found purchase in their hearts. Many alicorns had become monsters on the outside, twisted and made foul by terrible magics, but these alicorns became monsters on the inside, and they spoke with deceitful, honeyed words.”

Above all else, Gosling could hear the regret in Celestia’s voice.

“The ancient race of alicorns had gone mad… thoroughly and utterly mad. The war with the draconequus spawns had brought out the worst in them… the absolute worst. And so, this filly, desperate to save her little ponies, found that fate had forced her hoof: to save her beloved, precious little ponies, she would have to face another threat to their existence.”

The pain in Celestia’s eyes became too much to bear, but Gosling could not turn away.

“The history books tell it one way, and there is some truth to that,” Celestia continued. “Using the worst of magics, the elders actually tapped into the corruptive magic and turned it upon the little ponies, twisting them and turning them into monstrous creatures fit for combat. The city was under siege… desperation drove them to extremes… unforgivable extremes. So, this filly, she was forced to slay them and their ruinous creations.”

Luna let out a pained gasp, finally releasing the breath she had been holding.

“This filly, she took her tiny, precious band of survivors, those still whole of body, and she fled. Behind her, she left a massive crater and scorched earth. Her elders were dead, the city ruined, and what was left of it sank into the ocean. With a broken heart, she realised that as long as the alicorns existed, her little ponies would never be safe. They had become a threat equal to, or perhaps greater than the draconequus spawn menace.”

A few steps away, Luna began weeping, a sound that made Gosling’s ears twitch.

“Keeping her ponies alive and preventing their extinction became a priority. These are the same ponies that we now call the First Tribe. There weren’t very many of them left. Together, they fled into a dangerous wilderness, and this filly was forced to make very adult decisions that she wasn’t ready for. As she roamed, leading her tribes behind her, she took no chances, and every draconequus or alicorn encountered out in the wild was slain. One by one, she hunted them down, she sought them out and she slew them. None of them could be trusted, not a one.”

Staring into Celestia’s eyes was terrible, and Gosling didn’t know how he managed.

“This filly, she was filled with a need to keep her little ponies safe at any cost, and she began to wonder if she was any better than her alicorn elders. She was ruthless with her hunting, and one by one, they fell, even those who had hid themselves. Her instincts told her that that it was only a matter of time before they lost themselves to madness. They were monsters in waiting… all of them.”

It was at this point that Gosling made the dreadful connection, and he turned to look at Luna, who wept.

“And then, there were two…” Celestia didn’t speak these words so much as she breathed them. “I thought my ponies safe, at least for a time, and new ponies had joined us after a terrible ice age. The new blood was needed… we were so few. Those years were hard… I remained a filly for long periods of time… I died often. I think I died while foaling more often than I died in battle. I had carved a kingdom out of the monster-infested wilderness, with my capital right in the heart of the Everfree.”

Luna made a bleating sound, and then covered her face with her wing.

“I saw all the warning signs, but I chose to ignore them… I did not wish to be the last of my kind. A powerful wizard named Star Swirl had become my tutor, and he taught me much. I had plenty of raw magical strength, but a real lack of control. He tried to fix that. While we prospered, while I grew and I came into my own, while I reveled in my many successes, I blinded myself to the shadow consuming my sister.”

It was at this point that Gosling had something to say. “Nightmare Moon happened.”

Crestfallen, Celestia nodded. “And then, there was one. The madness that had claimed my species had taken one more, and I was left wondering how I alone seemed immune. Of course, as the years passed, as I waited out the thousand winters, I began to wonder if I was immune… I had committed genocide against my own kind. I carved away the dangerous threats so the little ponies that I so loved could prosper… I had saved them, but at such great cost to myself. At some point, I realised, it didn’t matter. What had been done was done and it fell upon me to continue to ensure their survival, even at the cost of my own happiness. I hadn’t slain my sister, I just… I just couldn’t do it at the time, but I had banished her, and I had done so with the hopes that she could be restored. I didn’t want to be alone…”

Sure enough, the lesson sank in, and Gosling had learned something he wished he did not know.

“I am not the pony that others believe me to be. I am a bloodthirsty warlord and a tyrant. I’ve taken the lives of many… perhaps millions. To secure an empire, I crushed mine enemies and then I sowed the dead land with their blood and bones to give life to the soil. With mine hammer, I have laid waste to entire armies… I have created oceans of blood, seas of gore that one could float a vast navy upon, and my battlefields scabbed over with the liquefied remains of the dead. All of what you see right now, all of the history that you think you know, all of the gentleness and good virtue of the mighty nation of Equestria, it is all a fabrication, just as I am a fabrication. I have outlived the historians, and I have corrected much of their histories. I am not the mare that I have made others believe I am.”

Somehow, Gosling found the courage to look into Celestia’s eyes once more, and he saw how they blazed with terrible inner fire. “If you are not Celestia, then who are you?”

Her chest puffed out, the muscles of her neck went taut, and a fierce, burning pride could be seen on Celestia’s face. Looking at her, Gosling could see the terrible truth, that there was something dreadful hidden beneath her unfathomable beauty.

I am Sol Invictus, She Who is the Unconquerable Sun.

Author's Note

It's right there in the story description...

Chapter 37

The mirror was Gosling’s friend once more. His wings? Ginormous. So much so that the tips now covered his cutie marks when they were folded against his sides. They were tender—flight was impossible at the moment—but they were wings. And oh boy, what wings they were. Turning about, he looked at himself from another angle and he liked what he saw. These wings were distinctly different than the wings he had grown up with, the wings he was familiar with. Cadance had changed him—again—but these changes were not unwelcome.

Hearing the door open, he expected Celestia, or perhaps even Luna, but was quite surprised by the voice he heard addressing him, and his ears perked at the subdued, mellow baritone.

“Greetings, Gosling… I thought that I would drop in and check up on you. Big night tonight… the school gala. Might just be one of the most important nights of your life, Gosling.”

“Seems like an exaggeration,” Gosling replied as Blueblood drew nearer.

“And this is why I came… to educate and elucidate.” Blueblood chuckled and his reflection joined Gosling’s in the floor to ceiling mirror. Seeing himself, he began touching up his mane while his eyes narrowed in concentration. “You are being groomed to be a beloved public figure, Gosling. A lot of work is being done behind the scenes to craft the image that you project. The Sisters want you to remain approachable… you are the wise-cracking colt from the inner-city that sometimes talks like a cheap hoodlum, and you have an overbearing First Tribes mother that frets over every single thing that you do… this image is being ruthlessly exploited for the gain of us all.”

Now, Blueblood also began to work on Gosling’s mane, pulling back the unruly mess that hadn’t been brushed yet while making a disgusted moue.

“We must endear you in the hearts of our subjects,” Blueblood continued in a near deadpan that seemed somewhat bored. “Tonight, you will be the beautiful distraction put out on display that holds everypony’s attention… meanwhile, Luna and her Wardens will attend the gala incognito… as foals. I expect some arrests to be made—after the gala is over, of course.”

“Is something going on?” Gosling asked and the first prickle of fear began to manifest along his spine. “Is there something I haven’t been told about?”

Sighing, Blueblood flicked his tail, drew himself up to his full height, and conjured up a brush so that Gosling’s mane could be properly subdued. Perhaps realising the brush would not be enough, he conjured up a container of grooming oil for good measure. With flared nostrils and a sneer, he went to work, applying his expert touch to bring Gosling’s mane back under control.

“Nothing outside of the ordinary.” Blueblood’s voice was now softer, warmer, and filled with emotion. He made a few strategic squirts with the grooming oil and then conjured up a comb for good measure. “There has already been attempts on your life… this is the risk of placing you out in the open for the adoration of the public. Seville took a blade for you, Gosling… he did it because he understands. He and I had a long talk during his recovery.”

Pained, though not in his wings, Gosling’s thoughts traveled back in time to that awful occurrence. His would be assassin, she was skilled, deadly, and had very nearly been successful. She would have been successful too, had it not been for Hush, who had stopped her with his methodical approach of breaking most of the bones in her body, leaving her in such a state of pain and shock that she could not function well enough to use magic.

“Do you think somepony might try something tonight?” Gosling felt a hard tug on his mane as Blueblood worked on a tangle.

“Any time you are out on display, there is a chance, but in regards to tonight, we’ve intercepted some chatter. Don’t be nervous, everything is as under control as we can get it.”

“Bait,” Gosling said, almost spitting out the word. “Eh, this is what I signed up for, I suppose. Great. So with each little tyke I meet tonight, I’m gonna be wondering which one is gonna try to shank me.”

“There you go with that hoodlum talk,” Blueblood remarked, his deadpan both snide and practiced. “I’ve grown rather fond of you, Gosling… Celestia might have claimed you as her student, but I also see you as my protégé. I have poured a lot of myself into you and you have become more capable than I had imagined. You have exceeded my expectations and even Raven thinks highly of you. You have cleaned up well and have become a crown jewel.”

“Thanks, Blueblood.” This was awkward, getting praise from Blueblood at this particular moment, with the stallion in such close proximity, and Gosling did his best to bear it. Why was this a problem? What made this so uncomfortable? Only one reason broke the surface in Gosling’s mind, and with it came a leviathan of sentiment that he wasn’t prepared to face.

There were dreadful monsters that lurked in the deep and these behemoths were best left undisturbed. Now, Gosling found that he was a bit nervous, a little sweaty, and he was forced to control his breathing lest he give away that something was wrong. This was, for all intents and purposes, probably the closest thing that he had ever experienced as a father and son moment—with Blueblood taking on a paternal role, which was super weird—and reaching this conclusion was almost his undoing.

“Is something wrong?” Blueblood asked while his reflection’s eyebrow raised in the mirror .

“Just a little jittery about tonight,” Gosling replied as he tried to shut his brain up and send the leviathan back into the deep where it belonged. “Big gala, I might be getting assassinated, and I have all those one minute dances I have to do.”

“You’re still terrible at lying.” Blueblood gave a hard yank on a tangle and Gosling yelped. “What is it that was put in the bathwater to make your mane so clingy?” He snorted, pulled, tugged, and squirted a bit of grooming oil into the knotty clump of mane. Using the comb as a pick, he began to loosen the mess strand by strand.

“You know, Blueblood, there are times when ‘Equestrian Prince’ feels more like a job title than a privileged position.” Gosling took a deep breath and tried to calm himself while focusing on the reflections in the mirror. Blueblood had a wry smile now, he was almost laughing it seemed, and this made Gosling feel a little better. “It puts a different perspective on courting Celestia… looking back, it feels more like a job interview, but I could never tell her that.”

“You should tell her that.” Blueblood’s aristocratic smile revealed perfect teeth and his ears angled forwards. “She would laugh and find it funny. Auntie has a peculiar sense of humour, as I know you’ve discovered. It’s tragic, really… she longs to be playful and silly, but all too often the situation demands that she be serious. I know from experience that it gnaws at her mental state and weighs heavily upon her mind.”

“I bet you know many secrets,” Gosling quipped.

“Oh, I do,” Blueblood replied in a voice that hinted of rebellious laughter that sought escape.

Gosling was tempted to ask about Luna, but thought better of it, because he didn’t wish to reveal that he was digging. No sense causing a panic just yet, when he, Beans, and Toast still might be able to find something that might give answers. Disappointed, he sought distraction. “Okay, Blueblood, tell me, what is expected of me tonight?”

This was not the ballroom that many parents would be expecting, but Celestia thought it was perfect. There was no wealth here, no opulence, there was no finery on display other than the ballroom itself. It was decorated in much the same way a common school might be decorated, perhaps like the sort of school that Gosling had attended in Manehattan. Everything was made by students—everything—from the painted backdrops to the flowers made with crinkled crêpe paper.

In one corner was the greatest treasure of all, the Elements of Harmony, each of which was made with papier-mâché, with manes and tails made of yarn. The bodies and heads had been formed with balloons, giving them a strange, distorted look, but Celestia found it endearing. Twilight was a hero—a well deserved title—and sometimes heroes had the most peculiar idols made of them. For Celestia, the end result meant very little, and how it looked had hardly any bearings on her feelings. The students had laboured on these sculptures, they had sweated and fretted, a great many hours of intense effort had gone into their construction.

Hours no doubt spent talking about heroes, she hoped.

“It’s better this way.” The sound of Sleet’s voice made Celestia tense, as she was not expecting company. “Little ones… they get stressed out from fancy stuff. When things are too nice, they get so worried about spills, or breaking it, or being clumsy, and all that anxiety leads to accidents and upset tummies. They have enough to worry about with a school dance without having to worry about all of the fancy stuff.”

This gave Celestia pause—it seemed obvious enough, but it was something she hadn’t given much consideration before. Now that Sleet had pointed it out, it seemed rather sensible and Celestia felt a bit sheepish for not having thought of it on her own. Sometimes, common ponies had a surplus of common sense—sometimes, not so much.

“All of this”—Sleet made an all-encompassing gesture with her wing—“if something happens to this, nopony will care. Nopony will be angry. That’s a lot of worry off of a foal’s mind. But I suppose the super wealthy foals of Canterlot grow up in houses that are more like museums, so eh… what do I know?”

“I am still surprised that Gosling pulled all of this off,” Celestia confessed, hoping to strike up a bit of small-talk with Sleet by giving her a chance to boast about her son.

“I’m not.” The stark white pegasus puffed up with pride. “Gosling was in Drama Club when he was in school. He constructed entire sets for plays and musicals using nothing but scrap and a non-existent budget. Wasn’t one for bragging about it though, he wasn’t. When everything was said and done, he always seemed just as surprised as everypony else that everything had somehow been pulled off.”

At the moment, all Celestia could think about was Gosling’s love of showtunes.

“When Gosling ran off and joined the guard, it crushed me,” Sleet whispered in a voice that sounded frail and vulnerable to Celestia’s ears. “So dangerous. So, so dangerous. I didn’t know what he would do with his life, but I had hopes and dreams. I mean, he might have been an actor, or a famous playwright, a thespian, a singer, but maybe these were more my dreams than his dreams… but I wanted these doors open to him. When I found out he had ran away from home and had joined the guard, I got myself fershnickered and I cried my eyes out.”

Celestia had no idea what this meant, and she didn’t bother asking.

The two mares stood together, bonded by a shared love. The little stark white pegasus was a little weepy eyed, and Celestia was doing her best not to notice, because by the looks of it, Sleet didn’t want to be noticed. Even though they were both white, they could not be more different; Sleet had a hint of blue to her when the light hit her just right, while Celestia had a vague suggestion of pink about her.

“I still haven’t forgiven you, you know,” Sleet murmured.

“What?” Startled, Celestia blurted out this word and every feather on her wings fluffed out in response.

“You gave my son intimate knowledge of mares… you altered his mind, his thinking.” Sleet’s eyes narrowed into ice blue slits and she looked up with a fierce expression. “When he hugs me now, it’s different. He holds back… I’m not crazy, I can sense it. A mother knows her son. Now, there is something that exists between he and I… a barrier of sorts, and things can never go back to how they were.”

Every word spoken was like a slap in the face, and Celestia recoiled. How did one respond to this? What words could one say to this? Looking down, she could see the hurt in Sleets face, a profound pain that demanded it be acknowledged. Gosling had grown up and Sleet was left to suffer with an empty nest. No more unabashed enthusiastic hugs—at least not from Gosling. Filled with regret, Celestia drew in a deep breath, but had nothing to say.

“You took something precious from me.” Sleet’s words were as cold as her namesake and her expression hardened for a moment, it became so frigid, so fierce that Celestia almost couldn’t bear to keep looking. But then, little by little, it melted and Sleet’s hardened countenance softened, it thawed and a hint of warmth could be seen. “For about a week or so, I dared to hate you. Cadance noticed that something was off and we talked a little.”

With her wings fidgeting at her sides, Celestia stood there, squirming, trying to think of some way to make this right. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that this resentment was the source of much ire between wives and mothers-in-law. At least Sleet was expressing her feelings, rather than being truculent and spiteful. In the most terrible realisation of them all, Celestia found that she cared about what Sleet thought of her, her opinion mattered, and she wanted her mother-in-law to think well of her.

“I love him so much,” Sleet said, her voice cracking, “and things keep happening that lead him further and further away from me. First he left home and joined the guard. That was pretty bad, but he was still my son in that way that mattered to me. Then you happened… you happened and everything changed. Gossy… Gosling… he can be kind of stupid sometimes, he’s so eager to please and do right and he’ll blunder right into a bad situation if he thinks it will get him a little bit of praise and a pat on the head. There was all of that bad business with the train and everything that happened… and bad things keep happening and I can’t bear to think about it, so I stay up in the Crystal Empire, fretting, terrified, trying to distract myself with my new job. In all of my life I’ve never felt so weak and powerless as I do right now. Gosling left the nest and flew right into a hurricane.”

“It was Gosling’s choice.”

“I know!” Sleet snapped and the little pegasus appeared to almost double in size as she puffed out with anger. “I’m so proud of him for what he is doing and I hate myself for being so petty and nothing feels right and I can’t even hug my son the way I used to!”

“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in Celestia’s voice caused Sleet to go still and Celestia reached out one wing to touch the frazzled mare. With slow caution, Celestia began stroking her mother-in-law along her back as she listened to the little pegasus’ laboured breathing. “Cadance knew I was alone here and she sent you to talk, didn’t she?”

To this, Sleet nodded.

“I wish we had talked sooner,” Celestia said to Sleet. “I can’t fix what was broken, and for that, I am sorry. The best that I can do is offer to share three precious little treasures of mine. They’ll no doubt give you the sort of hugs that you crave, and kisses, and all of the affection without reservation. One of them is bound to be a colt and at some point, he is going to break my heart just as your heart is broken… and when that day comes… you and I should have a few drinks together.”

“We’ll get fershnickered?”

Without knowing what that meant exactly, Celestia nodded. “Yes, we’ll have a few drinks and we’ll do that.”

“But I don’t want your heart broken.” Sleet’s ears went limp and fell down. “I mean, I can’t quite forgive you, but I wouldn’t wish that on anypony.” Shrugging, the little mare sighed. “Oy vey… life sometimes. I should be going. When all of this is over, we’ll talk more.”

“Sleet… before you go…”

“Yes?” The misty-eyed pegasus’ head tilted off to one side while she made her reply.

“I love you. Keep that in mind.”

There was a flurry of wings, of feathers, and the next thing Celestia knew, there was a pegasus hanging off of her neck, squeezing her. After taking a moment to reclaim her senses, Celestia closed her eyes and returned the embrace, hoping that she could give Sleet some of the affection that Gosling found too awkward to give.

Author's Note

There is a theme in this chapter... I can't quite put my finger on what it is though.

Chapter 38

“This is my magic evening,” Cadance remarked while she pulled a teal and bright pink sweater from a blue and gold boutique box. “So many tender romances bloom this night, already established tender romances will blossom into something more meaningful, and I’m almost certain that some of the older students will work up the nerve to ask the most important question of their lives.” The pink alicorn inhaled, held it for a time, and then sighed in bliss.

“I knows whats that question is too. Hey yous… do I gots punch on my neck?”

Eyes narrowing, ears perking, Cadance’s lower lip protruded in disgust and she advanced on Gosling, the sweater raised in a manner most menacing. Shaking her head from side to side, she grabbed Gosling with her magic, subdued him, held him still, and pulled the sweater over his head while ignoring his muffled protests. With a yank, she pulled it down his neck, over his chest, along his barrel, and then lifted him from the ground without effort so she could slip his legs through the sleeves.

A few yards away, Shining Armor stood smirking.

With the popping crackle of static, the woollen sweater slipped into place, and Cadance began to button the flaps just behind the wings, securing the ridiculous garment to Gosling’s torso. The resulting electrical charge caused Gosling’s mane to poof and little arcs could be seen trailing along his newly-grown feathers. Reaching out with one long bladed primary, he booped Cadance on the nose and gave her a delightful, well-deserved zap that made her mane frizz out.

“Ooooo!” Cross eyed, Cadance backed away, her snoot twitching, and she slapped Gosling away with her wing. “That smarts!”

Wing still extended, Gosling advanced on Flurry, his face an exaggerated expression of menacing villainy, and rather than run to hide behind her father, the little filly stood her ground, her feathers fluffing, cheeks bulging, her whole body puffed out as much as possible to make her look larger. With a terrifying “Grrr!” Flurry advanced with her teeth bared.

With a total lack of concern for the impending filly on pegasus violence, Cadance said, “The sweater comes from the Canterlot Cable Company. They do custom knits. It really is of excellent equality, wouldn’t you agree? I love the design, with all of the cute little horns, wings, pony shoes, and snowflakes.” The Princess of Love’s ears pricked straight when she heard the zap of static electricity, followed by Flurry’s grunt of pain. “Flurry, darling, do be gentle.”

Flurry pawed the floor with her hoof, and then, a moment later, she charged and went right for Gosling’s legs with a terrific snarl that left a proud look on her parents’ faces. Chuffing like a locomotive, Flurry swept Gosling’s legs out from beneath him, shimmied to one side while he toppled over, then with a whoop of triumph, she glomped his neck, which left him pinned to the ground and breathless.

“Oh hey,” Cadance said, offering up a casual remark. “That sweater really matches Flurry’s shade of pink. I need to get my fewocious widdle fiwwy a sweater! Yes I do!”

As Gosling came into the parlour, his legs aching, and every inch of his hide covered in sweater itching, he was accosted by a lavender filly that almost appeared to be Twilight Sparkle in miniature, minus the wings. He froze in the doorway, looking down, and the filly looked up at him with enormous, wide, expressive eyes that had the most curious, most intriguing crescent moon-shaped pupils.

“That’s a neat trick with the eye thing, Luna,” he deadpanned while he studied her face.

“With each new form I adopt, more instabilities manifest,” Luna responded, sounding quite unlike herself. “Truly, the magic of the changelings is unique and wondrous. All of this places a dreadful strain on my mind, projecting this dream illusion into the waking world. Every time I create a new form, some new, uncontrollable quirk manifests that I can’t control, things constructed from the dreams of others. Right now, I am a composite made from the dreams of Twilight Sparkle, and I am having the most bookwormy thoughts.”

“Luna, why do you do this to yourself?” Gosling asked.

“Because, this is necessary, Gosling. If I must sacrifice parts of myself to do my duties and my penance, then so I shall.”

The sudden frown halted just short of being a scowl and Gosling shook his head from side to side, not liking what he was hearing from Luna. He looked down at her and she continued to look up at him, the edges of her white teeth just visible between her parted lips. Try as he might, Gosling had no idea of how to feel about this, other than just the sense of being disturbed.

“Upsies?” The filly’s lips contorted into a confused pout, and then her face underwent a rapid transformation into sudden, utter mortification. “Why would I say such a thing? Why?”

“I have a little time.” Lowering his head down, Gosling took advantage of Luna’s stunned surprise and got himself a mouthful of the nape of her neck, as well as her mane.

“Stop, that tickles! Untooth me!” She kicked and wiggled, heavy against Gosling’s teeth, but he held on. “Hooves on floor, now! Downsies! Downsies!”

Ignoring her protests, Gosling straightened his neck, lifting Luna in a body not her own, and the back of his mind entertained all manner of curious implications while he strode over to the sofa with Luna still hanging by the nape of her neck. He lifted one front hoof up onto the sofa, then the other, and bracing his hind legs against the floor, he boosted himself up. Overweighted on one end, off balance, he almost tipped the sofa over, which forced him to spread his wings to try and balance.

“Scary!” Luna cried in a voice that was remarkably like Twilight Sparkle’s might have been as a filly.

Gosling recovered his balance, sat down, twisted about, got his back against the sofa, and then dropped Luna into his forelegs for a snuggle. Looking down into her eyes, he could see her resentment, her fear, and her worry, so he gave her a reassuring squeeze. In return, she pressed one stubby foreleg against the base of his neck and pushed herself back, increasing the distance between their muzzles by inches.

“This is nice,” she whispered, and then, after a moment of extreme tension, she relaxed a little. “For a moment, I thought that you might…”—she cleared her throat with a petite cough and then averted her eyes—“never mind what I thought. I should feel ashamed for thinking it.”

“It’s hard for you to lie like this, isn’t it?” Gosling asked.

“In this form?” she replied, pulling her foreleg away from Gosling’s neck so that she might lean her body against him. “Very much so. Everything about this body demands honesty. These projected dream illusions have a life of their own.” With a breathy sigh, she settled against him and rested her head against the corner of his jaw.

“Like Moonlight Raven?” Gosling asked while he thought of how that illusion’s mascara ran, the mental image strong in his mind.

“Yes.”

For some reason, Gosling thought of the stained glass window and of illusions that took on a life of their own. Celestia too, was good at illusions, he had witnessed that with his own eyes, but Luna was extraordinary. He began to wonder if perhaps he was dreaming while awake, further adding to the realism of holding this tiny filly against him, noting how she had just the right heft, a soft, foalish coat that lacked the thicker, bristlier coarseness of adulthood, and how something about her awoke the powerful, protective instincts within him.

“Luna, I’m back—oh.” Celestia froze in the doorway, her eyes and her mouth both round with surprise. “I was just coming to tell you that the security team is ready and waiting. I had no idea that you… well… I…” Her words trailed off and the shocked mare punctuated herself by making a popping sound with her lips. Then, after sputtering a bit, she added, “I should be going.”

“Stay.” Luna’s request was pleading. “Sit with us.”

“Luna, I don’t know—”

“Please?”

“Luna, you’re in the guise of my former student—”

“I was just trying it on.”

“Well, it’s creepy to the extreme to see Gosling snuggling a tiny Twilight Sparkle.”

“I demanded upsies. I am baffled as to why.”

“Twilight was fond of upsies.” Celestia blinked and took one step backwards while shaking her head. “Luna, please.”

“But I like this body and the emotions that it has.”

Gosling felt his stomach muscles clench, and he assumed that Luna did too, because she squirmed. This seemed to be a moment that could only become more awkward with each passing second, and Gosling lamented how magic seemed to complicate every aspect of everyday life. Luna shifted, lifted her head a little more, and her tail swished against his thigh, causing the muscles to jerk and quiver.

“Luna, we talked about these vicarious experiences with Cadance—”

“My whole life is a vicarious experience,” Luna snapped and Gosling felt her whole body trembled with rigidity. “I don’t even know what’s real anymore. The dream world keeps bleeding over into the real world and half the time I can’t tell when I’m sleeping or awake! I can’t even tell where I end and the illusion begins now most of the time! My life has turned into a fog of lies and treachery!”

Luna it seemed, was having a tiny Twilight tantrum, enduring yet another aspect of Twilight’s borrowed personality, and her whole body spasmed with rage. There was a brilliant flash of light and then, all of a sudden, Gosling found himself crushed by Luna’s weight, which was far, far more than one might expect. She was big, and blue, and clinging to his neck.

“We grow weary of this duty,” she cried, and then, with a crackle, Luna vanished.

Blinking, Gosling sat on the sofa, his forelegs now empty, and somehow the sweater was now even itchier. Reaching up with his right foreleg, he scratched at his neck, listened to the sound of the clock ticking somewhere from behind him, and tilting his head off to one side towards Celestia, he asked, “What’s that all about?”

“Now is not the time, Gosling. The gala is scheduled to begin soon.”

“Look, I know that something is wrong. I also know that something about Luna is being hidden from me, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is just yet. I’ll do what is expected of me, but when this gala is over, I want some answers. After all those tickets sold, you owe me.”

The way that Celestia squirmed in the doorway was not reassuring, not in the slightest. For a moment, Gosling thought about threatening to put his hoof down, but he wasn’t quite comfortable with tossing out ultimatums, and he wasn’t sure if such a thing would help his cause. Celestia looked just like a filly about to be found out, with the way her eyes darted about and how she fidgeted.

“I don’t need to be worked up like this right before the gala!” Celestia’s voice was almost a whine and Gosling was quite shocked to hear it. “I’m emotional and moody and already having a hard time. Why… I don’t even want to be there tonight, but I have to be. Do you know how many galas I’ve seen? They all bleed together and they’re all so dreadfully boring! The pretentious ponies all come at me all at once and expect me to hang upon every word spoken about their boring, meaningless lives! Tonight, I’ll hear at least a dozen stories about the dangers of social faux pas such as bringing the same dish as somepony else to a potluck! And I’ll have to smile, and nod my head, and try to look interested, and not fall asleep! ARGH!”

Celestia too, vanished with a crackle, leaving Gosling all alone.

Author's Note

The build up...

Chapter 39

Gosling felt every yard of his guts clench tight while he huffed and puffed a few times, his head pressed against the heavy, ornate doors that opened into the ballroom. Specifically, they opened up onto the landing of the grand staircase, where Princess Celestia stood with Princess Twilight Sparkle. The gold inlaid into the door was cool against his ears while the wood was warm against his forehead. It was time to enter, to make a scene, to turn the room upside down. There was a crowd beyond this door, a ravenous entity waiting to consume him, to devour him, an organism unlike any other that feasted upon his equinality, his celebrity.

Now, as an entertainer, he had to put on a good show. His newly-restored wings were heavy, achy, and he had taken a mild painkiller that hadn’t dulled his senses—much. He was well prepared, eager, and even had an opener in mind—and not with his wife, Celestia, as some might expect, but with Twilight, because she was the focus of tonight’s shindig, and Gosling was going to work his magic to make tonight memorable. Tonight, he was the prizefighting cockerel put on display and it was his job to put on a good show.

For a moment, he tasted bile in his mouth and the pounding of his heart in his throat was almost unbearable, but Gosling recovered his senses with a smile. His head began to bob as he heard a sound that nopony else could hear, because he marched to the beat of his own drum. In the Sanguine Age, it was public executions. Then came bread and circuses. Now? Now, ponies wanted a fantastic gala, a grand spectacle, and Gosling was a thespian readying himself to take the stage. Every precious moment spent in Drama Club was now an asset.

Spreading his wings, Gosling nodded to the guard to open the door…

Feather-gunning while grinning like mad, Gosling flowed into the room and out onto the grand landing like champagne pouring into a flute. “Ladies,” he said, and then clucked his tongue. “Handsome gents,” he continued while bang-bang-banging away with his feather-guns, which ached something awful, but Gosling forced himself through the motions anyway. Giddy mares and fillies pranced in place while squealing, flashbulbs exploded, and there was a wall of brilliant blue-white light from the press section.

Any of those flashes going off might have been spells with Gosling as the target.

From the crowd there was a deafening roar that reverberated through the ballroom, a sound so terrific that it drowned out the popping of the flashbulbs for a moment. There was a magic to all of this, something intoxicating, something that made Gosling pop and fizzle inside like soda water. This was the greatest feeling in the world. At the bottom of the stairs, a mare fainted and another mare was fanning her with a beautiful fold-out wood and paper fan, a common trinket of the nobility.

Following his plan, he went right for Twilight Sparkle, which left Celestia quite confused. With a toothy rogue’s grin, he stepped around his wife, slipped his wing around Twilight Sparkle’s neck, and with Twilight making little whimpers of protest, he dragged her along with him to the edge of the landing, where he pulled her close with a wing-hug.

“Ladies and gentleponies,” he said in his smoothest, silkiest voice, which was amplified by magic and cut through the roar of the crowd with ease. “Tonight is a very special night indeed. Are all of you ready for some news?”

The crowd roared as expected, but Gosling wasn’t satisfied. Adding considerable volume to his voice, he tried again. “I said, ‘ARE ALL OF YOU READY FOR SOME NEWS!’”

This time, the crowd’s response was like a physical force and it rocked him on his hooves. He let it happen for a time, the tension built up in a most delicious, most delightful way, and he could feel Twilight trembling beside him. She was no doubt confused, scared, an introvert surrounded by wolves that wished to devourer her. Everything was going just as Gosling had hoped.

At the base of the stairs, a rainbow maned pegasus stomped her hooves while whistling.

Fully aware that the motion-picture cameras were rolling, recording every minute of this grand spectacle, Gosling proceeded with his cockamamie plan to out-troll his wife. She was old, wiley, and had experience, but he had youth, stupidity, and an extrovert’s charm. Being young and knowing everything in the way that young ponies knew, Gosling was gifted with a plethora of stupidity.

“I am pleased to announce,” Gosling began, “that with Celestia’s blessing, I have entered into a platonic relationship with Twilight Sparkle!”

For a moment, the resulting silence threatened to make Gosling’s ears implode, but then came a hoot of triumph from the rainbow-maned pegasus down at the base of the stairs, and then there was an avalanche, a cacophony of cheering that followed. Gosling’s ears spasmed as the furious sound almost became deafening.

Twilight sucked her cheeks in, causing her face to shrink, and her lips became a tiny, petite pucker while she froze against Gosling’s side. Her pupils seemed to constrict and dilate in time to some unknown rhythm, perhaps the frenzied beating of her heart. A glistening bead of sweat rolled down her temple, a glittering jewel in the bright lights, and from behind him, Gosling could only just barely hear Celestia’s barking laughter. He hoped that she was at least covering her face with her wing, so she wouldn’t spoil this magical moment.

To truly sell this sham, Gosling gave Twilight’s neck a squeeze with his wing, then lowered his head down and kissed her on the cheek, leaving her a blushing, squirming, stomping wreck in front of the cameras. He could feel her trembling, she shook with terrific force, and then Gosling’s ears perked when Twilight snorted. Holding her close, he could see Twilight chewing on her lip and he could hear her laughter fighting to escape it’s stubborn confines. Alas, poor Twilight was putting up a terrific, epic struggle to maintain her princessly composure while the crowd descended into mad hysterics.

Twilight was a trooper and she performed admirably.

“Have you set a date?” a reporter asked, shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard.

“Tonight!” Gosling replied. “From this moment forward. Forever!”

From behind him, there was a honk, a hoot, another honk, and more laughter. Gosling basked in the happiness of the crowd, feeling some strange energy that crackled through his very marrow. Twilight was almost crying and still struggling to hold in her explosive mirth. Gosling hoped that the crowd would think she was crying tears of joy, because this really sold the gag.

“WOOHOO, TWILIGHT!” The rainbow-maned pegasus hollered while pumping one hoof up into the air. “I GET TO BE A BRIDESMAID!”

This didn’t help poor Twilight, who made a snorgling sound deep within her throat and her face turned beet red. For a moment, the much smaller mare looked up at him, and Gosling could see the impishness in her eyes, a glorious sight to behold. Twilight had gone from an unwitting participant to a full-blown accomplice.

“Forever?” Gosling asked in a low voice, hoping that Twilight could still hear him.

And she responded with, “Forever.”

“Um… um… um… yay!”

“Louder!”

“Um, no.”

Looking down into the crowd, he saw a sunny, buttery yellow pegasus beside the rainbow-maned one and seeing how uncomfortable she appeared, he gave her his best warm smile. With his free wing—the one not wrapped around Twilight’s hot, sweaty neck—he waved at the shy pegasus hoping to make her feel special.

Too late, he realised the gesture was too much for the shy mare to bear when she fainted.

“Well…”—Gosling grinned, revealing as many brilliant pearly whites as possible—“with that out of the way I’d say it was time to get my hokey-pokey-pony-pokey on. I have a whole passel of future princesses and little princes to dance with. If you all would excuse me, I must be going. It’s been swell.” Clucking his tongue, he feather-gunned the crowd again, and reveled in the fact that they went wild.

The show had only just begun.

Thirty. Thirty little foals waited in line, which would be replaced with thirty more, then thirty more again, and so on, for a grand total of three-hundred one minute dances. Five hours of fun during a gala that was scheduled to last from three in the afternoon to six in the evening—but for Gosling, this would be the gala that would never end. The youngest would go first and the oldest last, which seemed reasonable, as the older foals stayed up later.

Adjusting his itchy sweater, Gosling then tossed his head back to get his mane out of his face and he prepared himself to project maximum charm. The first one in the line was a filly, who might have been about four or five years old—so young in fact that Gosling was certain that she had joined the school in the fall. Bespectacled, she had her seafoam green mane curled just for this occasion and everything about her suggested that she was terrified.

Seville was working the line, interviewing students as they waited, taking pictures, and being Seville. Gosling gave him a nod, received one in return, and then he grinned at the chaperone, a young mare trapped in the most awkward, most awful stages of the transition into adulthood. A nervous smile revealed braces, and not the nice sort of braces enjoyed by the wealthy and elite, no. These were clearly from the medieval era, and at some point had no doubt been used to extract a confession from somepony.

When he got the chance, Gosling knew that he needed to make the poor filly feel good about herself, because she looked miserable. Yep, she was getting a free dance tonight as a reward for all of her hard work. Turning his head, Gosling looked down at his first eager partner and smiled at her while making a gesture for her to come closer.

“You know the rules, right?”

“Yep!”

“Good, let’s dance.”

“What’s your name?” Gosling asked while he moved in a tight circle with the tiny filly.

“Spume,” she replied while trying to keep in step with Gosling.

“What’s that mean?”

“Ever seen the foamy stuff in the waves on the beach?”

Gosling nodded, treating the subject with all of the seriousness and solemnity that he could muster. Sometimes, a pony ended up with a rather peculiar name because of a parent’s quest to be original. The filly, though terrified and trembling, seemed to be having a nice time, even with a bad case of the jitters.

“This is my Hearth’s Warming gift,” the little filly said, sounding both shy and squeaky. “Now I can say I’ve danced with a prince. Thank you.”

“Oh, you are most welcome.” Gosling performed the most courtly bow he could muster and wondered how many times would he repeat this action tonight. When the bell dinged, he felt sharp pangs of guilt that this had to end. One minute didn’t seem very long at all and if this was a Hearth’s Warming gift… he hoped that there would be more. “Goodbye, Spume. Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

“You too!” she cried and then she pronked off, no doubt to find her friends and tell them about every magical second in detail.

Lifting his head, Gosling looked Seville in the eye and asked, “Hey yous, did yous get a good picture?”

“Of yer ugly mug? Not a chance, sourpuss.”

“Wiseguy.”

“I have you both in profile.” Seville’s eyebrow lifted. “Pretty good if I do say so myself.”

“Good… I hope this was special. It just feels so short.” Sighing, Gosling nodded, resigning himself to his fate. “Next!”

The colt seemed frozen in terror; his lower lip quivered, his eyes were glassy with fear, and his ears vibrated like a buzzy wind-up toy. He had to be shoved forward by the chaperone, and then the little unicorn just stood there while the music played. Precious seconds were already ticking away and Gosling fell into the routine.

“What’s your name?” Gosling kept his head as low as possible so he wouldn’t appear quite so threatening. When the colt failed to reply, Gosling continued with the small-talk. “This sweater I’m wearing, it’s a riot, ain’t it? Has your mom ever made you wear an awful sweater?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the colt, followed by the faintest of nods.

“But you love your mom, so you do what she asks, right?” Gosling squinted a bit and hoped that he could coax something out of the poor dumbstruck colt.

Again, the colt nodded. He licked his lips, leaving behind glistening beads of saliva, and when he spoke, his voice was like a rusty hinge. “You’re my hero.”

“I am?” Gosling reached out and gave the timid colt a gentle touch with his hoof, placing it upon the little unicorn’s withers. “What’d I do to deserve that?”

At this, the colt began wheezing and stood immobilised. Gosling, all too aware that far too many precious seconds had passed, waited for the bell to ring while still hoping that the colt would say something, anything. Each second became more precious than the last and when the bell rang, Gosling’s ears drooped. He wondered if somehow, he could have done this better.

Gosling’s mouth opened to say something, some final parting words, but the colt was gone, bolting away as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Feeling dismal, Gosling watched him go for as long as he could get away with, which wasn’t long at all. A filly in a fancy dress with a truly terrible overbite pranced over and smiled up at him, expectant.

“Hello, what’s your name?”

Author's Note

I don't feel bad for what I've done to Rainbow Dash.

Chapter 40

Lifting her head high—and feeling self-conscious for doing so—Celestia gazed over in Gosling’s direction while there was a brief lull in the onslaught of hoofshakers. For a moment, she envied him, a downright painful sensation that left a dreadful weight upon her heart, and she longed to have his sense of ease when dealing with strangers. He was eating this up and appeared to be loving every minute of it, while she herself had to play the role of princess. Truth be told, she wasn’t enjoying herself much at all. The line on the stairs was the same as the last gala, and the one before, and the one before that. Already, her hoof and fetlock were throbbing, bruised by those who just had to have a better grip than an alicorn, the need to squeeze as hard as equinely possible.

Alas, she could not squeeze them in return as none of them would survive such an encounter unscathed.

“Princess, I think ya need a break.”

The commanding country twang made Celestia’s head turn, and she found Applejack standing beside her. Funny, she hadn’t seen the orange earth pony creep up on her. Had she been distracted? Maybe. Applejack was squinting, she was studying, and Celestia looked down upon her distant descendant with a raised eyebrow.

“At some point, every mother needs a break,” Applejack began, and she dispensed her earthy, country wisdom in a fine, slow drawl. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my girls. Hidden Rose and Ambrosia are the best things that’s ever happened to me. I love them dearly, I do… but sometimes, sometimes… sometimes those little fillies are a huge pain in my hindquarters, and I get fed up with them. Big Mac says I get a look on my face and I done reckon that right now, you have that same look.”

“Applejack… I…” Dumbfounded, Celestia’s words trailed off into a breathy exhale.

“When a mother gets fed up, it don’t mean that she loves her foals any less, it just means she’s fed up. When I left Hidden Rose and Ambrosia with Tarnish and Maud, I was so relieved to be away from those little stinkers that I just about cried. And of course, my girls, they thought I almost cried because I was sad to leave them, and consarnit, I let them think that too.”

“Applejack!”

“Lettin’ go is important.” Applejack tilted her head back, wiggled and squirmed inside of her gown, and one hind hoof clattered against the floor. “Tarnation, I can feel sweat rolling down my belly and I can’t do a thing about it!” The rough mare gave herself an unladylike shake, and then, resorting to desperate measures, she gave a quick scratch to her stomach with one hind hoof.

“You’ve had a rough go of things, near as I can tell. There was that whole thing with Mister Mariner, we’re beset on all sides by powerful enemies, so Twilight tells me, and ponies are mighty unhappy right now with the way things are. Everypony seems to expect for Mom to just have a magical fix, and so far, that hasn’t happened. Ponies are a bit peeved with Mom, and it seems that Mom is peeved right back. Right now, Mom’s got that look on her face, and as one Mom to another Mom, I can see it plain as day.”

“Except I can’t just go away and take a break. I’m stuck in a house full of bickering foals.”

“No, I done reckon you can’t, and yeah, I reckon ya are, and shucks, that’s not fair to you.” Snorting, Applejack tried to smooth out her dress, but each swipe of her hoof seemed to make the wrinkling problem even worse. After a few more half-hearted attempts, she gave up and ignored her mussed dress.

Down at the base of the steps, the guard stood in a solid row, preventing access.

Foals were dancing with one another, along with a few adults. Off on the other side of the ballroom, Gosling was dancing a lively jig with a filly, and Celestia watched while letting heave a wistful sigh. Realising that something was amiss, Celestia did a quick check of the room and then turned to Applejack.

“Where is Pinkie Pie?”

“Well, she had to work,” Applejack replied, her words more of a sigh than anything else, and she punctuated what she had to say with a short huff. “And she’s been staying with Tarnish too, because there’s another Mom in trouble, and that’s Trixie. She was worn real, real thin there and all of us was starting to worry about her. There’s been uh, uh, what’s Twi call it again? A concerted effort? Something like that. Anyhow, Pinkie is basically pulling double shifts and she just couldn’t be here tonight.”

“She always makes a gala so lively. I was looking forward to her mayhem.”

“I didn’t even want to leave my two little headaches with Tarnish and them, but Mac was busy, and my foalsitter got the flu. I didn’t want no stress and strain on poor Trixie, but Tarnish insisted that everything would be fine. At least Sumac gets to spend time with his cousins. I wish they’d stop teasing him, though, they’s powerful annoying.”

Reaching out one wing, Celestia pulled Applejack a little closer, grateful to have the wise mare’s comfort. In thoughtful repose, she watched the gala, taking note of the many bright, eager faces. Little unicorns that might change the world someday. All around, the first steps of gawky romance were being taken by many and more established relationships were being forged by a few. Rainbow Dash was regaling a crowd of little unicorn foals with how she saved Rarity from falling to her death and performed a sonic rainboom.

There was no sign of Rarity either and this made Celestia sad.

Blueblood was working the crowd, baiting those whom Celestia absolutely could not stand and saving her from their soul-sapping banality. He was a smooth operator, Blueblood, and Celestia valued his service. The record, scratchy, skipped a bit, but nopony seemed to notice. Down below, the starry-eyed lovebirds were too focused on one another, the timid were too busy holding on to their courage, and the dancers were too busy having a good time.

In a corner, Twilight was holding an impromptu story time and was reading a book to a group of foals huddled together. Clever Twilight had found a way for shy little bookworms to have a pleasant time and still be social with one another. It dawned upon Celestia that somepony had allowed Applejack access to the landing. Perhaps it had been Twilight.

“Applejack… I have a confession.”

“Well, go on, I has a whole bunch of those myself.”

Smiling, Celestia had to hold back laughter because of Applejack’s response. “I’ve not been a mother. Not in the traditional way, anyhow. I’ve foaled more times than I can count, but being a mother is more than having a foal. After foaling, I’ve always had to pass off the care of my little ones to wet nurses, nursemaids, and nannies. An army of governesses have always reared my young. It was necessity, you see. A matter of time management. Other things took priority. Now, I find myself with a good deal of trepidation and the shadow of motherhood scares me.”

In response, Applejack said nothing, but appeared to be chewing her lower lip while her ears pivoted to follow every nearby sound. Her mane, done up in an enormous bouffant, was breaking free of its restraints a few golden strands at a time. Applejack’s green eyes reflected the light, they twinkled, and she existed, oblivious, with no awareness or comprehension of her own exceptional natural beauty. When one golden strand fell down over her face, she puckered up the corner of her mouth and made several futile attempts to blow it back into place.

“I think you’ll be fine,” Applejack said, banishing the break in conversation. “I wanna say that things are different now than they once were, but I don’t know that for certain. You do run a school and in my mind, being a teacher ain’t much different than being a mother. I mean, Cheerilee is practically a mom to most of her students. I raised Apple Bloom, but when my own time came, I was scared to death that I’d be a bad mother. I’d like to think I’m good at what I do, but that could be pride talking, sho’nuff.” After a moment, the little mare raised her head and cast a sidelong glance up at the much larger mare. “And let’s not forget that you practically raised Twilight Sparkle. Twi’s done told me stories.”

“Thank you, Applejack.”

“Don’t mention it, Princess.”

“It was just what I needed to hear.”

“I find that sometimes, we’re in need of a reminder of the obvious.”

Celestia found herself taking a moment to reflect upon this, and with her wing resting on Applejack’s sturdy back, she nodded. With her head tilted off to one side, she watched as Gosling sat on the floor and played a clip-clop game with an electric blue filly that had a crazy pink mane. His tongue was out and he had an exaggerated expression of concentration that made him look absolutely ridiculous—which was perfect. Gosling was at his best when he was at his most ridiculous and Celestia found herself wishing that she was alone with him in private.

“I suppose my break should be over…” Celestia retracted her wing, folded it against her side, and drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, Applejack, for everything.”

“Aw, shucks, it ain’t nuttin’.” Grinning, she added, “I’m gonna go start a belchin’ contest ‘round that punch bowl over yonder!”

From this height, from this angle, Gosling was a magnificent creature. Approachable, friendly, affectionate, warm, sincere, kind, the list could go on forever. Being this small offered a unique perspective, a reminder that a foal saw the world in a way that was fundamentally different than adults. Gosling, with his rubber ducky cutie mark and his face-splitting goofy grin, he was the sort of adult that was easy to approach.

The whole of the world was different down here. Adults were giants, sometimes benevolent, sometimes scary. To a foal, the narrow chasm that an adult saw beneath the bed became a vast, yawning expanse rife with the potential for monsters, shadows, and things that went bump in the night. This very ballroom, which was quite cavernous by adult standards, was downright overwhelming when seen through a foal’s eyes.

Alone in the crowd, the nondescript filly looked about, her wide eyes blinking only when absolutely necessary, and her ears listened to every sound with great suspicion. Why, even just the simple act of searching out potential threats became far, far scarier when one was this small, with the danger, real or imagined, feeling so much more dangerous. The mind in this body wanted to imagine, to pretend, it demanded to play and to run away on flights of fancy. This mind too, was young, just like the body, and this mind had needs. These needs were a distraction, a detriment, because there was no time to tell colts they were stinky, or to admire new styles of manes and tails on pretty fillies.

There was only a constant neverending strain on the mind, pressure almost to a breaking point. Making it obey, making it conform, repressing all else—it all grew quite tiresome and was a struggle with no end in sight, no respite. Giving one’s self over to the whims of whatever body was being worn at the time was a dangerous, dicey proposition. One might ask for upsies or any number of embarrassing, awful things, and then the barrier became thinner. Should the barrier ever break, a loss of self might result, or maybe some worse fate.

The outcome was unknown.

This duality? Plurality? This indefinite state of ever-changing, ever-shifting existence threatened to shear the mind, but it was necessary. Lifting her head, the filly looked about, and her mind, already stretched thin with fatigue, tried to filter out potentially hostile thoughts. For a moment, her resolve slipped and hundreds of minds poured into hers all at once, unfiltered, unrestrained, all of the screams left echos in the canyons of her mind.

Adultery! Scandalous thoughts! Lecherous perversions! Dread! Love! Warmth! Friendship! Arousal! Desire! Fear! Lust! Terror! Broken Heartedness! The sudden rush threatened to crush her mind completely and it was only with a great deal of strain that the filly regained control of her senses. One thing stood out, and that was a sense of longing desire for her. Fearful that she might be the target of some grotesque stallion, the filly homed in on the sense of need and saw a filly sitting in line, waiting for Gosling.

She was small, vulnerable, scared, and had a powerful sense of desire for another filly. Probing deeper, there was confusion, guilt, shame, fear, and doubt. A dreadful sense that there was something wrong, something off. With this flood of emotions, a gradual realisation was reached: this filly had not yet made peace with who she was and she was consumed by fear. What dreadful dreams she did invite, what terrors did she call upon herself.

The nondescript filly blinked once and then stood unmoving. She knew the unicorn foal’s fear and her undiscovered identity. In this body, with this mind, the sense of sympathy was almost overwhelming, almost too much to bear, and it was with great regret that the connection was severed. It was a detriment, a distraction, and had to be cast aside. Still, it felt nice to have caught some filly’s eye, to have been the target of wholesome, normal emotion. Not everypony was corrupt and there was still good in the world.

Moving with a slow, methodical gait, the small nondescript filly prowled the crowd…

Author's Note

Before you say anything, take a minute and think about it.

Chapter 41

The gala was now winding down with minimal mayhem having been achieved. Soon, the lights would dim and the whole shebang would transition to a sort of after-party, a post-party fête for heroes. Kisses had been exchanged. Dances had been danced. Punch had been drank. Love, tender and new, had been professed. Hearts had been broken and with luck, none of the rebuffed or refused would grow up to become the next generation of villains. Since Gosling was still busy with his task and would be for a few hours more, a decision had been made to keep the party going.

As for Gosling himself, by Celestia’s eyes, he was having himself a great time. He was a pony in his element and she wondered—just for one deranged moment—what Gosling and Pinkie Pie might do to a party if left to their own devices. It would, of course, be chaos, but a little chaos was a good thing. Gosling’s line had changed; the youngest foals had been replaced with somewhat older foals, ones far less timid and whole lot more outgoing.

With the breaks that had been taken and the sedate pace of transitions, Celestia figured that he’d be going for at least another three hours, maybe longer. In the middle of the ballroom, Rainbow Dash was pulling and tugging on an adorable, flustered Twilight Sparkle, flinging her about in some new, fashionable dance that Celestia did not understand. Twilight bore it all with good grace, even though it was obvious that this was not her prefered method of dancing.

In a somewhat more awkward display, Applejack danced with Fluttershy and was trying to show the gathered foals ‘how it was done.’ Where Twilight had quiet grace and dignity, Fluttershy had shyness and more squeaks than a newly-wedded couples’ mattress. Applejack lavished Fluttershy with the sort of warm, intimate affection that existed between those who had been close for a long time, a sight that warmed Celestia’s heart. Only the occasional nervous giggle that slipped out of Fluttershy revealed that she was having a good time.

It took all of Celestia’s effort to hide her limp and she knew that Twilight had to be suffering as well. Several thumpity-bumpity hearts all throbbed down in her fetlock and hoof—a condition that demanded icing—but that would have to come later. For now, each step was agony and a struggle not to keep her face serene, calm, and tranquil.

Beans and Toast had given up on having fun and were now wrangling the line to meet Gosling. Celestia was both proud of them and disappointed; proud for showing initiative and disappointed that they had given up their night of fun. In the pair of them, she saw future Ravens, little workaholics—ponies who would run the empire. Behind every good ruler were even better assistants, and Gosling had the best assistants. Now, all he had to do was spread his wings and succeed.

Celestia could no longer hold any doubts; Gosling had the right stuff, at least he would with time and maturity. Now, he just needed to prove himself. Cadance, dear, sweet Cadance, she had quite an eye for talent. Somehow, everything had come together. With a sweeping turn of her head, Celestia looked over to where Cadance was engaged in a slow dance with Shining Armor. The music was all wrong for this sort of dance, not that it mattered. Several foals were following the example of Cadance and Shining Armor, and watching them, Celestia felt an ache in her heart. The pony she wanted to dance with was busy. Perhaps later… but later was always a quirky, fickle thing, insubstantial and unreachable. Something always came up that pushed the boundaries of what later was and when later would be. Much of Celestia’s personal life was a later, something that she always intended to do but was always having to reschedule.

With a sigh, Celestia resigned herself to later.

The sugary, fruity punch revived Gosling like nothing else and after chugging down several glasses, he now stood chewing on a half-melted hunk of ice while taking a short break. These short breaks were getting a little more frequent now, and if this kept up, he’d finish up sometime around midnight, if he was lucky. A new line was getting settled in and Seville was hard at work interviewing an intellectual-looking colt with thick, oversized glasses.

Some of these foals had more than one ticket, much to the consternation of their peers, and there had been some whining about how unfair it was—especially when Gosling spent five whole minutes with one lucky, privileged filly. She was charming in her own way, had a cutie mark that showed medical interest, and was already in pre-med preparation classes. During the dance, the filly had whined a great deal about the fact that her father could not buy her a princess title, and how that was just wrong.

“You know, you and Twilight are gonna make the cutest little foals together.”

Lifting his head from his punch cup, Gosling stared at Rainbow Dash for only but a moment before a troublemaker’s grin spread over his face. A nearby foal also seemed to take notice of Rainbow Dash, and watched as the rainbow maned pegasus moved closer to Gosling. The little blue mare was just that, little, lithe, with a body made for speed. Even with her shorter wingspan, Gosling envied her just the tiniest bit, because every pegasus wanted to be both fast and pretty.

“I’m barely responsible enough to look after a tortoise and a few foals that I play big sister to, and I can’t even imagine settling down to raise a family. It’s kinda awesome that Twilight is settling down with you, Princess Celestia, and Princess Luna. If you don’t mind me asking, don’t you think that you are hogging the alicorns?”

“Well,” Gosling replied while he did his best to play it straight, “it’s hard to stop with just one.” Lowering his voice to a mere considerate whisper, he added, “They’re kinda awesome in the sack, as you might imagine.”

“Really?” The sheer volume of Rainbow Dash’s voice caused several dozen heads to turn and look in her direction. After a few tense seconds, Rainbow’s wings sprang out from her sides, rigid as steel poles, and the mare stood scuffling her front hooves together while chewing on her lower lip. “I bet I could match an alicorn’s endurance and athleticism.”

Now, it was a fight to play it straight and Gosling’s lips pressed into a tight, thin, straight line while deep furrows appeared just below the white spot on his brow. “Are you looking to join the platonic relationship I have with Twilight?”

“No!” Rainbow Dash blurted out. “I don’t know…” She continued rubbing her front legs together in a strange display of confidence and shyness. “Maybe? Princess Luna, she’s kinda, well, you know… hawt. Hawt with a double-yubble-yew. And uh, you’re not so bad yourself. Uh, good things come in threes. Sometimes even together. Um, yeah. Threes.”

Nearby, the foal eyeballing Rainbow Dash snorted and had one incredibly sour expression.

The joke had gone too far and with a sigh, Gosling knew that he needed to extricate himself from this trouble before it became a scandal of epic proportions. “Miss Dash, while I am flattered by your attention, I must insist that you go and ask Twilight what the word ‘platonic’ means. Also, I must return to my task.”

“Right, right, of course. Thanks.” Rainbow Dash blinked a few times and then stood there, looking both confused and a bit dejected. “Um, thanks.” Perhaps not knowing what else to say, Rainbow turned about, flicked her tail in a flirtsome way, and then strode off, regaining her confidence with every step taken.

The nearby foal, a colt, let out a final snort and watched as Rainbow departed.

Meanwhile, with a sigh of regret, Gosling made ready to return to his over-eager public.

“There’s this colt I like a whole lot and like, I don’t know how to talk to him or to like, you know, get his attention.” The filly’s breath smelled like bubblegum and her lips were stained from punch. “It’s like, so hard, and I’ve tried all of the stuff my friends have suggested, but nothing has worked.”

In his most neutral voice, Gosling responded with, “And what did your friends suggest?”

“Like, to ignore him and play hard to get.”

“And for some reason, he doesn’t seem to know that you exist?”

“Yeah! Oh my gosh! How did you know? Are you some kind of relationship guru?”

“Hmm,” Gosling hmmed, and he gave some consideration as to what to say next.

“I mean, I’ve really, really ignored him and I’ve played super-hard to get, and I swear, it’s like he doesn’t even know that I exist for some reason! Like, oh my gosh!”

“My advice? Go talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Ask him to dance—”

“But if I do that I’ll look like such an uncool dork!”

“Maybe.” Gosling summoned his patience, drew in a deep breath, and looked the filly right in her glass-green eyes. Each second mattered when there was only sixty of them and time was slipping away with each passing breath. “Look, he has absolutely no way of knowing that you’re interested or that you like him until you tell him. How could he possibly know? Your friends gave you terrible, stupid advice, and if you worry about peer pressure and looking like an uncool dork, he will never, ever take notice of you. You have to take a risk and talk to him.”

“But what if he says no and I look like a spaz?” The filly, bewildered, gave Gosling an imploring, pleading stare. “I don’t want the whole school laughing at me.”

“Some risks are worth taking and honestly, you worry too much. I’m pretty sure that most of the school doesn’t care about you in the slightest—”

“But, like, I’m pretty and popular!”

“And yet, somehow, this colt you’re crazy about doesn’t even have the slightest clue that you exist. What does this tell you?”

Shaking her head, her eyes wide, the filly took a step back, blinked, and just as she was about to say something, the bell dinged. A wordless whine escaped her lips, a sound of protest, and she gave her head a far more vigourous shake. She blinked once, twice, thrice, and then, looking right at Gosling, she gave him a nod.

“Thanks. I need new friends.” Then, without another word, she was gone.

The colt was somehow too timid and too close at the same time. No dance had been initiated, and Gosling got the feeling that this one would be another talker. With each drawn breath there was a faint squeak, and the colt took one step closer. It took all of Gosling’s willpower not to take one step backward when the colt leaned in a little bit more and began to whisper.

“IreallyhaveacrushonyouandbecauseofyouI’vecometounderstandthatI’mgay.”

It took Gosling several long seconds to process what the colt had blurted out, and he wasn’t sure he had it all. He did have the gist of it though, and had lost track of just how many colts had confessed their crushes on him this evening. Reaching out with one wing, he placed it over the unicorn colt’s neck, and then just stood there, listening.

“You’re really very pretty and for the longest time, I wasn’t sure. Other colts kept catching my eye, but I had some doubts and I’ve spent almost a year dealing with this. Then I saw you a few times, and it woke something up in me, and that’s when I knew… I just knew.”

“Knew what, exactly?” Gosling asked while he stood nose to nose with the smaller colt. “What did you realise?”

“That I was queer for pegasus colts,” the unicorn whispered back in response. “Those wings… are fabulous and they just leave me hot and bothered. I feel so much better telling you this and I’ve been really scared about this for a while now. Because I worked up the courage to tell you, I think I can tell my parents now. At least, I hope. I’ve been so scared. My mother, she keeps trying to play matchmaker. I’m about to turn ten and she says I’m getting to that age. Once I turn ten, I’ve only got four more years left, my mother keeps saying, and time is running out.”

With a sigh, Gosling understood and he gave the colt a knowing nod. “You need to tell your mother the truth… now… as soon as possible. She might need some time to adjust. And don’t worry, no matter what she says, she probably won’t die, no matter how many times she might repeat those words. If she gets upset, tell her that she’s getting two sons to fret over and hopefully, once that sinks in, she should be fine.”

“Okay!” The colt’s voice became a high-pitched shrill squeak. “I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna tell my parents! I’ll do it over winter break now that school has let out.” For a moment, the colt’s eyes went glassy, but he blinked a few times until they were clear again. “You’re the best!”

And then, before the bell could go ding, the colt pronked away.

Author's Note

Awkward.

Chapter 42

The final thirty awaited, almost all of them adolescents or young adults, with a few older than Gosling himself. The gala had lasted far longer than anticipated and it was now nearing ten o’clock. Moving foals through the line, getting them sorted, getting the line organised when a new line had to form, wrangling foals missing from the line and still on the dance floor—all of this took time. As for Gosling himself, he was still wearing the goofy holiday sweater, and he was a sweaty, dishevelled mess now.

Celestia admired his persistence and looked forward to the necessary shower that would come later. Gosling was quite a sight when he was wet… when he was dripping... when the water ran down his sleek sides in rivulets and left parts highlighting his well-toned features. Gnawing her lip, she thought about pulling the sweater off of him while he was hot, sweaty, and maybe even a little bit stinky.

There was nothing quite like a bit of a roll against the side of a sweaty, stinky, musky stallion, especially one with wings, and then coming away smelling like him. For a moment, time blurred and Celestia was no longer standing in Canterlot castle, but rather taking cover in a copse of trees on the edge of a meadow. A brave band of nomads surrounded her, most of them foals, almost all of them plucky, gritty, and capable. The gala had become something else entirely and the past had become the present.

Among her courageous band of survivors, ponies that were Gosling’s age were the seasoned adults, but sadly, also the ones with more years behind than ahead. Twenty was a hard age to reach and every year was so precious—each year back then held so much value compared to the years of easy living now. Some of these dancers around her now would already be in the twilight of their life, the last and final years where the end of every day was a goodbye and each new dawn was seen as miraculous.

Over a thousand years of progress became blurred and Celestia was stricken with guilt when the claws of the past raked at her mind. Serfs and peasants had been worked to death, never seeing the benefit of their own labour, all part of the price of survival. Dreadful working conditions where even the littlest of foals were expected to contribute somehow, a countless number of lives sacrificed in the name of progress, each of them going to their grave with no reward, no comfort, no sense of satisfaction or meaning.

So many bodies formed the foundations of civilisation of which Celestia had been the architect. She had asked so much of them and gave them little in exchange, but each successive generation had reaped the benefits of her plan, and with each life sacrificed, the lives of others prospered. Soon, her band of nomadic tribals had enough food for learned and educated ponies again. The alphabet was reintroduced, along with literacy. Celestia had been the vessel that had held this knowledge. Protecting those precious students became the highest priority and many gave their lives to keep the newly lit flame from flickering out.

From protecting those students, those learned, precious few, the idea sprang up that some lives were intrinsically more valuable than others, a regrettable necessity. Almost any pony could pull a plow or a wagon, but a pony that could read, that represented a significant investment of time and energy spent. It was an expenditure of resources, an investment—and so those rough and rowdy few that called themselves warriors and soldiers had begun to prioritise which lives to save in a crisis.

And so had begun the cultural shift, the first cracks forming the divide between the commoners and those not so common. It wasn’t fair, but then again, neither was life. Numbers grew and life—though precarious—showed promising signs of continuing. It went without saying that there were setbacks; disasters, plagues, monster attacks, great evils, lesser evils, and of course those who foolishly believed they could do a better job of ruling and had tried to usurp her. For the sake of the future, for the sake of survival, she had been forced to cut them down, to show them her dreadful power, and the path to prosperity was sometimes littered with ashes.

All of that—had lead to all of this.

The gala—this gala—had been the end result of the long march of progress. Lives that had once been so short could now see a century. These foals knew an unbelievable amount of wealth, privilege, and comfort. So much had changed, so much had been accomplished. The first festivals, celebrations, and jamborees, they would barely even be recognisable by modern standards—but back then, having enough extra food to feast had been such a meaningful accomplishment.

Closing her eyes, Celestia lingered in both the past, the present, and future. She was a vessel of history, the protector that insured that a history would continue to be written, and she was all too aware of how precarious the future was. Threats existed now that could put an end to all of this—all of this progress could be expunged in an eyeblink—and she would be back at the beginning again, trying to pull what remained up out of the muck, if anything remained at all.

It was a game suitable for immortals, perhaps the most important and most meaningful game of them all. Keep the lights on and build a civilisation that stands the test of time. To reach or to return to this level of extravagance. A long time ago, this world had known high technology and advanced civilisation; Celestia could remember those distant days, the days before the Great Extinction. Flying machines, mechanised weapons of war, mechanised labour—all things that the most brilliant of minds were only now beginning to rediscover. Technology too, could upset the game and send everything tumbling down. It was a terrifying prospect, one that caused many a sleepless night of fretting, wondering if progress should be held back just a little longer until society was ready.

Failure meant starting over, if there was anything left to start over with.

“You’ve gone through a lot of film tonight, Seville,” Gosling remarked while his friend loaded his camera with motion picture film. It was one of the many hold ups that delayed everything and stretched out the hours. Perhaps next year, they could work out a few kinks in the system and speed things up a bit.

“I have a responsibility to history,” Seville replied and he shut the hatch of his camera with a click. “Princess Celestia wants every face of every ticket buyer to go into the Royal Archives. She is convinced that many of these faces will have a meteoric rise to greatness, and when and if they do, she wants it remembered that they danced with you.”

“Like I inspire greatness in others…” Gosling went quiet from the sheer force of Seville’s deadpan expression and then he stood there, tugging at the collar of his sweater with the knuckle of his right wing. The intensity of Seville’s stare caused Gosling’s mouth to go dry and he wondered if it was time for more punch.

“I was dumb enough to get on a train with you and as a result of that, I became one of the most important journalists of the modern era. No exaggeration. The whole reason I have a career in the first place is because you stuck your neck out for me and you gave me a chance. Certainly nopony else wanted to give an earth pony a chance. For some reason Gosling, you can take a pony that has been crushed by the weight of the world, lift them up, dust them off, and make them believe that anything is possible.”

“I’m told that I have knack for inspiring happiness in others—”

“And happiness begets confidence, confidence begets courage, courage begets all manner of things, such as the idea that you really can do anything. When I’m around you, I don’t feel the depression that holds me back… the idea that nothing will ever change. Whatever mojo you have, Gosling, it rubs off on other ponies.”

“Thanks, Seville… I guess… I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ll think of something. Camera is good to go. We ready?”

Gosling nodded. “Let’s do this.”

The filly that Gosling danced with had to be about his own age, or thereabouts, and she was lively, if not a little clumsy. Gawky, she was at that stage where she was all legs, a phase that Gosling was mortified to remember and recall. To suddenly become clumsy before your peers was awful, but this filly had to have it particularly bad because she had a badminton shuttlecock and racket cutie mark.

Badminton, once known as battledore and shuttlecock, was a game played by the ancient pegasus ponies to prepare them for war. Feathers were stuffed into a wad of cork to form shuttlecocks, and this was batted around with wide, flat paddles. It was a brutal sport that taught aerial combat, hoof-and-eye coordination, and teamwork. Now, it was a gentle, genteel sport played by unicorns with much softer, safer rackets. Full contact was forbidden.

“My mother says you are the best thing that’s happened to the royalty,” the filly said while she looked Gosling in the eye. “She bought my ticket. She wanted me to meet you, because she said it would give me a sense of history.”

“Is that so?” Gosling moved in a gentle circle, standing close but not too close, and allowed himself to gaze into the filly’s curious dark green eyes.

“My mother is one of the equinology professors at Canterlot College.” The filly bowed her head, blushing, her cheeks as red as apples. “She told me that you represent modernity for the royal family, something that was sorely needed. Princess Celestia is a good and wise ruler, but she has blind spots. There are issues that haven’t been addressed. My mother seems to think those issues have a better chance of being corrected now, and that we might be able to do something about the poverty in this great nation of ours once and for all, so that we might all be better—”

The bell dinged and the filly winced with regret, but she was gracious. Bowing her head, she nodded, smiled, stepped back, and then said her final parting words. “I believe in you as my ruler. Do good, for all of us. Thank you.”

And then, before Gosling could think of what to say or how to respond, she was gone.

The very last in line was a colt, a wiry, studious fellow with wireframed eyeglasses, a short cropped mane that stuck out in all directions like a star gone supernova, and visibly chapped lips. Gosling made a gesture with his wing to welcome the colt over, and was relieved that his duties were almost done.

“I’d really rather not dance, as it is counterproductive to my goals,” the colt said to Gosling. “My name is Rauchtänzer, but most ponies mispronounce my name as Roach. I am a juvenile immigrant to this country and I bought my own ticket so that I might speak to you. I wasn’t sure how else to reach you. I would very much like a job—”

“You bought a ticket so you could ask me about a job?” Gosling asked, incredulous.

“It means that much to me,” the colt replied, his voice wavering. “I want to help other immigrants—poor ones, like me. I was lucky, but many are not. Please, hear me out, this means so much to so many.”

“Im listening.” Gosling, sensing opportunity, waved over Beans and Toast.

“I’d like to help you with immigrant affairs… I’ll work as an unpaid intern if necessary, if that can get my hoof in the door.” The colt licked his lips, his tongue lingering in the chapped corner of his mouth, blinked once, and then his nostrils flared. “I came to this country as a stowaway on a coal steamer. I worked hard as a student and I ended up here, in Princess Celestia’s school on a partial scholarship for academic excellence. I do whatever is necessary to earn my keep and I work very hard because I want a job in the government sector, because the bureaucracy needs reformation.”

Gosling knew this speech had to have been rehearsed in the mirror many, many times. “Indeed it does, Rauchtänzer, indeed it does. So you bought a ticket just to score a job interview. You waited in line all this time… and something tells me that you probably didn’t have the bits to spare to buy a ticket.”

“It was pretty much all of my emergency savings, but I saw an opportunity.”

The last bell of the evening dinged and Rauchtänzer’s gaze became a pleading stare. Gosling eyeballed Beans for a moment, then Toast, and then he wondered how much more of this he might have to deal with in the future if he said yes to this now. Everypony would try to arrange some meeting with him to secure a job…

Which didn’t seem so bad. Those who found a way to reach him would probably be clever enough and deserving enough to hold a position. Perhaps this could work out. Pleased with this idea, Gosling nodded, extended his wing, and wrapped it around Rauchtänzer’s neck while he said, “Have a good long talk with Beans and Toast. Let us see what we can work out. Good luck, Rauchtänzer, you did good tonight.”

“Thank you so much, sir!”

“Now, if you will excuse me, there is one final thing I must do.”

With his most disarming grin, Gosling approached the chaperone, whom he caught off guard. When tapped by him, she let out a shrill squeak, and then stood there, trembling and afraid. She was quite frazzled after a long evening, every bit as dishevelled as he was, and her gown was now rumpled.

“Would you care to dance with me?” Gosling asked and he did his best to hide the exhaustion in his voice.

“Oh gosh, why?” the chaperone replied while backing away.

“Because, you volunteered to do this thankless job and are in need of a reward.” Gosling did his best to look inviting and when he heard the click of a camera being primed, he turned on the suave. “So, how about it, care for a dance?”

Tittering, the chaperone ducked her head, smiled for but a moment, and then hid her smile away to hide her awful braces. “I would really like that, it would make tonight special. It’s been rough.”

“Indeed it has,” Gosling replied and he made a gesture with his wing. “Come with me, and let’s make this last dance memorable.”

Author's Note

So... many... rewrites...

Chapter 43

To be free of the sweater was glorious and Gosling—having just come out of the shower—roistered about in his naked state while the midnight hour made its reckless, relentless approach. Meanwhile, as Gosling did his pretty pony prancing, Celestia recovered on the bed in supine repose, looking as majestic as alicornly possible. She engaged in a dreadful, awful, terrible habit, potentially the worst habit a pony could have: she ate in the bed.

Multiple jars of pickled, preserved goods were held aloft, secured in the golden glowing, glittery nimbuses of her magic. Pickled apples, pickled strawberries, pickled pink onions, pickled pears, assorted pickled vegetables—and perhaps the worst of all, a jar of pickled eggs that were a garish, nightmarish pink. In sharp contrast to her public persona, the Celestia laying in the bed slurped, suckled, snorted, licked, and belched, all while various juices ran down her fuzzy chin.

“I have more manipulation in my primaries,” Gosling said while he feathergunned his reflection in the full length floor-to-ceiling mirror.

In response, Celestia let out a resonant, gurgling belch that made everything in the room rattle. Afterward, she guzzled some of the brine from the jar of pickled eggs, then did nothing to wipe the mess from her muzzle, which dripped down upon her graceful, swanlike neck. With a lewd, moistened slurp, she gave herself over to her hedonistic, visceral experience and attempted to fish out a pickled pearl onion with her tongue.

Gosling’s attention was torn away from his own reflection and he watched while his mate pulled not one, but many onions from the jar. Her long tongue would flick out, slither around a succulent pickled pearl onion, yank it from its fellows, and drag it into her waiting maw. It was like watching an anteater do its thing and Gosling was thoroughly entranced by the sight of it.

“Modern refrigeration came at a price,” Celestia mumbled while also trying to slurp brine from her chin.

“Sunshine?”

“For thousands of years, we had perfectly good means of food preservation, such as pickling and fermentation. It was nutritious and healthy”—here she paused, slurped, licked her chops, and belched before she continued—“it is my belief that it develops good, strong gut flora. But now that modern refrigeration is readily available, pickling and fermenting are falling out of favour, but we are also seeing a rise in digestive issues and tummy troubles for so many little ponies. I don’t think it’s a coincidence, Gosling. Thousands of years of eating this way and we’ve evolved—we’ve adapted to eat fermented and pickled foods.”

“Is this what immortals think about?” Gosling asked.

“This one does,” Celestia replied while she began her assault upon the jar of pickled strawberries.

“You and my mother have something in common.” Gosling gave his mate a nod and thought about his mother’s predilection for pickled foods—carrots and potatoes was a particular favourite. Of course, after eating a whole jar of pickled potatoes and carrots, his mother, Sleet, could send the pigeons fleeing from the rooftop.

Feeling a bit peckish himself, Gosling mounted the bed and then crawled on his belly over the rumpled, wrinkled, turned down bedding. He made a first attempt to communicate with his eyes, a silent request for food, but was soundly ignored by his mate. Moving closer, he became a little bolder, and was growled at for his efforts. Among pegasus ponies, a growl could just as well be an invitation as it was a warning to stay away, so Gosling persisted, pestering for a pickled treat.

Celestia’s tongue was terrorising the jarred strawberries, and her lips were stained blood-red from their succulent juices. Gosling moved in on the floating jar of pickled apples, but lacked the means to pull out a slice of juicy green deliciousness. When he sniffed, the brine set his brain on fire with longing, and he wanted some of the salty, sour treat. Lacking magic to pull a section of apple out, he went to work with his own tongue.

And was stopped by Celestia, who held his tongue in a nimbus of magic while giving him a stern, challenging glare. One eyebrow arched and her rosy eyes burned with a fantastic inner glow. At this moment, the fact that Celestia was an alicorn was almost irrelevant, as everything about her was profoundly pegasus pony in nature.

Gosling, with his tongue still pinched in Celestia’s magic, tried to appease his mate. What he said was, “Just one little bite of apple?” What came out while Celestia held his tongue was, “Justh wan litthle bithe of ath-hull?”

His ears snapped up in alarm when he distinctly heard something else coming from his mouth and for a moment, Celestia somehow remained stern—but then the stoic mask cracked and she began to snigger. Then, she coughed, which worsened, and then bright-red strawberry brine came shooting out of her nostrils, spraying everything, including Gosling.

With her sinuses seared by strawberry brine, Celestia let out a whoop, a shriek, and a hoot of laughter, in that order, and then was overcome by the giggles while vivid red juice was dribbled all over her muzzle, neck, and barrel. The bed—which was now a scene out of a horror movie bloodbath—was drenched with bright red syrupy brine. Celestia, seeing the state of her bedclothing, let out another shriek, which was followed up with braying peals of laughter.

She still had a firm grip on Gosling’s tongue somehow.

With Celestia braying like a donkey, Gosling too was overcome by laughter, but also by his own embarrassment. He knew full well what it had sounded like he had said and which part of her anatomy he wanted to bite. The whole bed was shaking—but not from freaky circus sex—and Celestia was clutching her stomach with both of her front hooves while kicking her hind legs in the air above her. There was no state of majesty that existed in the universe that could compare to her now.

“OW!” Celestia’s laughter paused for a moment while she held her tender fetlock aloft, away from her body, and then her laughter resumed, but was now somewhat subdued. She let go of Gosling’s tongue, pulled out a slice of pickled green apple, and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth before he could use his now freed tongue to say anything else.

“Another gala done and gone, and there was hardly any mischief,” Celestia said while still chuckling. “My students behaved themselves for the most part. What does it say about me and the fact that I am mildly disappointed with them for not causing a ruckus?”

In response, Gosling shrugged while crunching up his hard-earned treat.

“My gown was amazing, but it rubbed my teats raw. All my frogs feel swollen from standing too long. I’m sore all over and now, I’m sticky and look like I’ve had a nosebleed. The bed is destroyed and we’re both a real mess. I am pretty sure that if the guards saw us right now, you’d be seized and questioned about your rough handling of me.” She paused, let out a wordless whine, and then she added, “I don’t wanna get out of the bed and bathe… wah!”

To console herself, Celestia slurped a half-dozen pickled eggs in rapid succession and washed them down with a hearty guzzle of brine. Gosling meanwhile managed to pull out another wedge of apple with his tongue, and he spilled some of the salty-sweet juice on the bed. After swallowing, he decided to sample Celestia, and licked her neck. Salty-strawberry flavoured alicorn wasn’t bad at all, and he went at his task with affectionate gusto. While his tongue trailed over the delicate flesh of Celestia’s throat, he could feel the shifting bulges of her swallows, which was rather arousing.

“‘Tis the winter, Gosling,” Celestia murmured while kicking out her hind legs, going spread-eagled in a heap of limbs and wings. “Go south, you silly pegasus, and head for warmer, humid climes!”

Gosling awoke in a sticky, clinging mess and wondered if this was what it was like to be trapped within a changeling cocoon. The blankets were damp—sticky—and infused with an offensive reek that made his eyes water. It felt as though the sheets were glued to one of his wings. The excessive moisture made the space beneath the blankets humid—uncomfortably so—and the dark, moist confines had become a breeding den for antagonistic aromas.

Gasping, he thrust his head out from beneath the blankets, or tried to do so. A great deal of effort went into nosing his way free and he had to peel apart a few layers of red-stained bedclothes that had glued themselves together. The air on the outside was no better than the inside, but at least it was cooler and far less… moist. Snorting, he filled his lungs with cool, stinky air and tried not to think about the damp, soiled wad of cloth resting heavily against his eyelids—which were now squeezed shut.

Again, he heard the sound that had caused him to awaken, a low rumbling bassoon-like note that reverberated and shook the bed. It was a sound that one felt more than heard, and the ominous rumble was accompanied by a sulphurous musk that seemed to permeate reality itself, leaving it sullied and forever ruined. He was trapped! There was only a vague, hazy recollection of the events of last night in his half-awake mind, and his wings made feeble half-flaps against his sides, one of which tugged on the stuck-on sheet.

Never had there been a more disgusting morning in all of existence.

Like a filthy, dirty, squalid, skeevy butterfly, Gosling emerged from his crud cocoon. Wiggling, squirming like a caterpillar, he pushed his head through the moist, clinging fold of wadded, soggy, encrusted bedclothing, and he might have been free if it were not for Celestia. With yet another deep, lingering woodwind note, the befouled behemoth rolled over and came to rest atop poor Gosling, thus ending whatever malefic metamorphosis awaited him when he emerged. One leg, stained pinkish-red, was thrown over Gosling’s neck, and the bulk of Celestia’s barrel come to rest upon his upper body.

Now, Gosling truly was in a pickle.

Celestia too had underwent a malefic metamorphosis and now, crushed beneath his pickled princess, Gosling listened to the slovenly slumberer. Gone was whatever beautiful swanlike grace she had, for now, she snorted and even oinked with each breath. Gosling trembled, aware of the dreadful fate that awaited him, and he could almost hear his mother’s shrill, nasal voice scolding him.

What happened when a pegasus indulged their lurking porcine nature?

Why, they became a pigasus, that’s what.

Now, on top of feeling dirty and disgusting, Gosling was ashamed.

Celestia was stretched out to her full astounding length, her neck unkinked, her spine straight, and she was almost too long for the bed. Gosling, pinned beneath her front leg, could see her head quite some distance from him. Her majestic skull had come to rest upon a pillow that had been folded over at some point in the night, with the thicker folded side resting just below the corners of her delicate jaw. She was bigger than he by far, at least when measured from snoot to dock. Even the pillow seemed small by comparison, and Celestia had folded it over just to be useful enough to support her bulk.

A mostly empty jar lay upon its side a few inches from his nose and Gosling sniffed, trying to determine what it had once held. It was a futile gesture, for there were a myriad of miasmas, each more overwhelming than the last. There was something in his ear, Gosling realised, and it was annoying. He flapped his ear, tried to shake his head, but nothing brought satisfaction. Whatever it was remained wedged in the fuzzy, velvety folds of his mid-ear, only now it was dribbling some sort of juice down into his inner-ear after his attempts to dislodge it.

Last night, after the midnight hour had come and gone, he and Celestia had transformed into foals that had stayed up way past their bedtime. There had been kissing, tickling, foreplay, and there had been… pretend. It was embarrassing to even think about now in his current state, and his cheeks grew warm while his mind rushed to provide all manner of provocative memories. At some point, he had been a submarine commander, prowling beneath the sea of blankets, prowling in the dark, and depth charges had been dropped upon the lurking leviathan.

With a warm wet pop, a pickled pearl onion shot out of Gosling’s ear and plopped upon the bed beside him.

Did a submarine even have depth charges? Gosling wasn’t sure and all he had to go by were the many cheap matinee movies he had seen. Submarine movies were popular and easy to make. They were dark, gritty, and full of tense drama. Sitting in a dark theatre, it was possible to get lost in the film and Gosling had become a stowaway upon so many submarines.

Celestia snorted, her eyelids fluttered, and from deep within her throat there came an oink. For a moment, it appeared as though she might wake, that her fluttering eyelids might open, but she remained trapped in her state of slumber. In a muted mumble, she began to murmur, “No, Sinister, we cannot do what is best for them, for that is tyranny. Let them find their own good, just as I have let you find your own good. Reflect upon your lessons, my student.”

Gosling listened and watched as Celestia’s ears perked. She made a face, a very specific face, a face that she only made when challenged. “Of course I made you stick to your studies, it is for your own good. No, that is not tyranny, you silly filly. That is being a good teacher. No, you can’t become a teacher of society at large. What do you mean why not? Because I said so—no, this isn’t tyranny, this is for your own good. Sinister, if you do not stop this at once, I shall be forced to give you a tickle. Now stop. No, there is a difference… shush, Sinister Dark.”

Somehow, Celestia’s wing snapped free of the sodden bedclothing and with tendons creaking, she waved it to and fro overhead in a threatening gesture. Gosling wiggled a bit, fearing that he might be a target, but then Celestia slipped back into a deeper sleep. Her wing sagged, easing down little by little, until it came to rest upon the foreleg that pinned him to the bed.

A dull heaviness tugged upon Gosling’s eyelids and his drowsiness soon overcame him.

Author's Note

Such majesty.

Chapter 44

“Are you absolutely positive about this? Are you certain? The last thing we need right now is to be stirring up a hornet’s nest and potentially creating new enemies.” Celestia’s face was an impartial mask but her insides burbled in turmoil while she looked down at one of her most trusted of ponies, Fox Populi.

“Most Radiant One, we have irrefutable evidence of Dire Dark’s misdeeds. A Warden pulled both his face and his voice from out of the memories of one of Mister Mariner’s co-conspirators. Payment was given. Physical payment was given in the form of exotic alchemy ingredients that we know for certain are tied to necromancy and lichdom.”

Raven began hissing like an angry teakettle and just before the whistle indicating that she had boiled over came to be, she blurted out, “This is treason! Treason!”

Overcome with feeling, almost undone by emotion, Celestia closed her eyes and began to count backwards from one-hundred. Mister Populi’s words were ominous and the summation of her worst fears. The Darks, though crazy, had always been loyal. They had remained true through the Civil War and could always be counted on in times of crisis—except for now, when Equestria was gripped by crisis, the Darks had turned like milk left out too long.

Pained beyond what words could express, Celestia’s thoughts drifted back through the centuries and she thought of one of her most faithful of students, Sinister Dark. Fierce, full of questions, possessing a temper the likes of which Celestia had not seen since, little Sinister was a club-footed terror that held a fanatical zeal for her country. How far the Darks had fallen.

Opening her eyes, her backwards count disrupted, Celestia asked, “Mister Fox, what do you recommend?”

“I suggest that we do nothing yet. Inspector Pasteur Le Feu is cautiously forming a plan. Whatever we do, we should not try to arrest him at home, in the Dark Spire. That would not go well… for any of us or potentially all of Canterlot. When we do catch him, we should do so when he goes to visit his munitions factories or shipyards. I would suggest we take a century of Immortal Solars and half as many Wardens. If he decides to resist arrest, there will be catastrophic loses. We’ll have to try to take him in an area that isn’t populated. We know he travels by airship.”

Shaking her head while listening to her most trusted assistant’s grumbling, Celestia wondered if this was worth it. Sure, it had to be done, but the cost of doing so might be too dear to bear at a time when everything was so precarious. Dire Dark—once properly subdued—might know the whereabouts of Mister Mariner. Or, it was just as likely that he might have scrambled his own memories for protection. The Darks were just that paranoid—and powerful.

She thought of Luna’s troubling dreams and portents about rats…

“Raven!” Celestia barked the word.

“Yes?” Raven, eager, stood armed with her pen and a determined, overzealous scowl.

“Enact Operation Lightswitch.” Fox was a curious little pony, Celestia saw it on his face, and she made a split second decision to include him in the plan that went beyond Top Secret. He was trustworthy—and capable. “The Darks dump their unwanted foals that don’t meet their standards into orphanages, Mister Populi. We must now go through the trouble of finding each and every one of them so that we can determine if any of them are sleeper agents that might act in retaliation—”

“You prepared for this?” Fox paused, mortified by his own interruption, and his ears dropped in apology.

“I try to prepare for everything,” was Celestia’s response to the embarrassed, still-apologetic, still-cringing Mister Populi.

A dangerous game was now in its opening moves, and Celestia knew, she knew that the opening moves determined the outcome of the game. Heart heavy, she thought of Sinister, and knew that her once-student would never stand for this. In fact, Celestia was certain that she would have had to have held Sinister back from disemboweling her family. Sinister’s fanaticism was a powerful asset, but also a detrimental weakness that Celestia had tried so hard to temper.

Sinister was a Dark that had worshipped the Sun.

Sighing, Celestia dragged herself back into the present. “Where is Inspector Pasteur Le Feu right now?”

Bowing his head, Fox Populi replied, “He is with Prince Blueblood and they are mobilising the Crypteia. As far as I know, nopony is being told specifics, only that we are in crisis. Preparations are beginning.”

Closing her eyes again, Celestia began counting backwards from one-hundred once more. Agencies like the Crypteia were lost past their heyday, their halcyon days when they were functional. When Equestria was a nation of thousands, the Crypteia were at their most powerful. As Equestria grew into the hundreds of thousands, the Crypteia had been defanged, and so had the Wardens. And when the population had exploded into the millions… the Crypteia and the Wardens had become anachronisms. Now, they were little more than a curious vestigial organ, like the appendix.

“Most Beautiful, Most Resplendent Dawn—”

“What, Fox?” Celestia’s eyes fluttered open and she looked at the squirming orange unicorn who stood in supplication before her.

“Majesty, Mister Mariner’s co-conspirator that was interrogated by the Warden—”

“Just spit it out, Fox!”

“There was a tremendous amount of interest in Sumac Apple. Many discussions were had between Dire Dark and Mister Mariner’s chosen agent. Mister Mariner was shopping for capable mercenaries to seize the young sorcerer.”

Just behind her eyes, the beginnings of a headache began its dreadful tapping, and Celestia nodded, fearing the lurking beast that would soon spring upon her. “This complicates things.”

“Most Beloved Majesty, what is to be done with the prisoner after he is interrogated? Our prisons are not safe, as the Great Enemy has shown. He knows too much and should he be recovered by the wrong sorts… it could hurt us.”

Once more, Celestia’s eyes fluttered open, and the light stung. Sitting on her throne, she took as long as she felt she needed to think about this, because there was so much to think about. Such a valuable prize might be used as bait, but that would also put many lives at risk, and there was the risk of things not working out. With a heavy heart, she reached but one conclusion.

“Kill him, Fox, ‘tis treason after all.” The words left a bitter, unpleasant flavour on Celestia’s tongue and she wished that she hadn’t said them. “I want you to do it. Erase as much of his existence as you can and leave his current whereabouts dubious. Maybe we can confound the Great Enemy if they go on a futile search for him.”

Bowing his head, Fox replied, “By your command, Golden Light.”

“Reduce his body to ash,” she added, almost shivering in disgust from her own command. “We don’t want the Great Enemy reviving his corpse for information retrieval. Burn him to ash and then burn the ashes. Scatter whatever is left on the wind.”

With a jaunty clicking of his hooves, Fox Populi snapped to attention, and then ran off to do as he was bid. Celestia watched him go, annoyed by his fanatical, blind devotion, but also grateful for it as well. Fox could be trusted with anything—she would trust him with Gosling’s life even—and he was a good and faithful servant. When he was gone and the door shut behind him, Celestia turned to her assistant, who stood grinding her teeth.

“Double the number of Solars in Ponyville and make certain that Twilight does not find out about it. Use whatever methods are deemed necessary. Twilight is canny and capable, but I want Sumac kept safe at all costs. Send a private communication to Mister Teakettle and keep him informed of the situation as it develops, if it develops.

“Mister Teakettle hates mooks—”

“Raven, he doesn’t hate them… he’s just offended by their very existence and takes exception to the fact that they continue to breathe the same air as him. Prepare a legal defense for Mister Teakettle under the new I.E.A. provisions. Might be time to give the program a dry run. Whatever you do, do not tell Mister Teakettle that he is well-protected and immune from prosecution.”

“Why not?” Raven asked.

“Because,” Celestia replied with a sniff, “he makes such messes if he thinks he can get away with it, and faithful, darling Twilight does not deserve such messes…”

No morning report. A break in routine was never a good sign and Gosling knew it. The only thing that would draw Blueblood away from the routine was a crisis of some sort, and an exceptional one at that. Canterlot Castle was a place of strict routine and deviation was frowned upon. He hadn’t had enough sleep and to make matters worse, he felt a little dehydrated, almost hungover even, even though he hadn’t been drinking the night before.

Perhaps some great plot had been uncovered at the gala last night, some grand conspiracy with the aim to make the sun set on Equestria. One simply did not break up the routine. Yawning, Gosling knew that he needed tea, or maybe coffee, it didn’t matter what he drank so long as it revived his kludgy brain.

“Beans… Toast… are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Oi, I can’t be certain, but I’m not sure you have what it takes to be an exotic underwear model,” Beans replied, and his sister, Toast, began snickering.

“Why I oughta…” The corners of Gosling’s mouth pulled down into a frown and he cast a scornful sidelong glance at his assistants. “I was thinking about having a second breakfast and something to drink.”

“To the kitchens?” Toast looked at Gosling, then at her brother.

“Indeed.” Beans offered a pert nod.

“Good, this gives us a chance to talk about Rauchtänzer—” Gosling was cut off by Toast’s sudden squeal and his ears weren’t ready for the auditory assault. Ears pinned back, he retreated from the squealing filly that seemed to be losing her mind. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended, and Gosling stood blinking in shock.

“Oi, he’s so dark and edgy looking,” Toast gushed while batting her long, mascaraed eyelashes. “All dark and smokey. He’s practically villainous—”

“Sis, Gosling too, is dark.” Beans made his interjection while rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but Gosling just kind of looks harmless… and Rauchtänzer has that marvellous name!”

All the signs were there—all of them, and Gosling was left feeling both hopeful and disgusted by seeing them. Toast had a crush and it seemed to have simmered a bit overnight. She looked to be almost swooning at the moment, making moony-eyes and prancing about. All of her seeming maturity, all of her composure, all of her seeming adultness was lost, and she was now acting her age.

“What is it with fillies and dark and edgy stallions?” Beans asked while looking Gosling right in the eye. “I don’t get it. Why can’t a filly look at a nice, steady, dependable sort and think to herself, ‘Oi, I know, I’ll go after him. He looks trustworthy and reliable, and won’t take dangerous liberties with my gaskins.’ Seriously, what is it with fillies? One look at a dangerous colt and they’re undone.”

In response, Gosling shrugged. As far as he knew, he was a nice guy, the steady, dependable sort. Thinking of this, he began to wonder what Celestia saw in him, and after a few seconds of being lost in distraction, his stomach gurgled to remind him that he had pressing needs that could not be ignored. There was no way that Gosling could be seen as the dangerous type, his mother had seen to that, and sympathising with Beans’ angst, Gosling sighed.

“Why is being wholesome such a turnoff?” Beans turned, looked at his lovesick, swoony sibling, and then turned away, snorting in disgust.

For Gosling, it was odd to see his assistant acting his age, and it made him think of his own age. Gosling didn’t exactly act his age—but mostly because he had so many duties and responsibilities. “Something else to talk about while we have our second breakfast,” Gosling muttered while turning about so that he could begin the long walk to the kitchens.

Celestia had reason for everything she did and knowing this, Gosling had reason to believe that she had ‘arranged’ for him to have ponies just about his own age in the form of his two posh assistants. All of Gosling’s other friends were older, from Seville, who was an adult, Hotspur and Hush, who could be called middle-aged, and Luna, who was… indeterminable. There were times when, surrounded by nothing but adults, Gosling felt troubled. Even Seville, whom Gosling loved like a brother, had the maturity of age.

As for Luna, who had a chronological age—and, as Gosling was beginning to suspect—a current physical age, which she may or may not being lying about. There was a growing feeling that he did not know Luna, that he hadn’t actually met the real ‘her.’ He was convinced that all of her that he had seen so far had been dreams and illusions, which bothered him more than he would ever admit.

Sullen, hunched over the table, Gosling ate some of the castle staff’s pick-me-up food, which he found delicious and filling. Raw oats were soaked in creamy, fruity, tart yogurt overnight; then come morning, they were oh-so-very chewy, satisfying, and according to the castle staff, perfect when most of the yogurt had been absorbed. For now, it was a treat, but he was tempted to demand this for breakfast every morning just because of how filling it was, as well as energising. It was strange requiring such a high caloric intake when Gosling felt that he did so very little these days.

“It’s disgusting, seeing how my sister is.”

“Oi, stick a hoof in your gob!”

“My sister has gone off her trolley—”

“Naff off, ponce!”

Sensing disaster, Gosling felt as though he had to intervene. “Will the two of you not act your age?”

Consummate professionals and adolescents, the twins went silent, but glared at one another. Gosling ate another bite of yogurt-soaked oats and chewed in thoughtful silence. Toast broke off her angry glare, turned away, and within seconds she had become moony-eyed once more. She had a crush, or maybe was even infatuated, only Cadance would know for sure.

Cadance would know.

Recoiling as if he had been slapped, a course of action slammed into Gosling’s brain like a runaway locomotive and he knew what he needed to do. Cadance would know. Princess Busybody managed Luna’s therapy plan and no doubt, had just the sort of information that Gosling needed. If not Cadance, then his own therapist, Lumina Loveletter might know… and even better, if she wanted to be tight lipped, Lumina could be… intimidated. Gosling hated even thinking about it, and he knew his mother would be disappointed, but damnit, he was owed some answers. His therapist also worked with Celestia and Luna, so Lumina was bound to have relevant information relating to Luna and her care.

No sense stepping on hooves if he didn’t have to. First, he would go to Cadance and just flat-out ask. Cadance had said that it was important to ask, and to confront things directly so he wouldn’t end up overstressed again, because that was sheer misery, and Gosling was feeling a bit worked up about this. Chewing his oats, Gosling knew it was time to face Cadance about this directly.

He now had a course of action.

Author's Note

Confrontation is coming soon.

Chapter 45

The first stirrings of anger fuzzed over Gosling’s thoughts and the muscles in his legs twitched from the anticipation of conflict. Why was he angry? He thought about that while making purposeful strides down the long hallways and he already had himself a conclusion: he’d been lied to. Clearly, something shady was going on, and if he hadn’t been lied to lied to, then at the very least, somepony had been less than honest with him. Luna’s illusions were too strong, there were gaps in available information, and Gosling was almost absolutely certain that he sensed a cover-up of some kind. There was a hole in need of filling and the complete lack of anything was all the evidence he needed to know that something was amiss. This administration was too thorough, too perfect, too completionist to leave out such a significant chunk of Luna’s life.

Yes, Gosling decided, they had goofed by going against their own established directives, he told himself. Canterlot Castle was all about rules, directives, protocol, everything was structured and rigid; any variation at all from the rules was frowned upon. As all of this settled into Gosling’s mind, he knew, he knew that something was amiss, and with his certainty of wrongness, his anger grew, clouding his good sense and judgment.

Something unpleasant happened to pegasus ponies when they felt that their loyalty had been snubbed, something primeval, the primordial pegasus pony spirit within recoiled over the fact that he had been wronged. It didn’t take long for Gosling to work himself into a seething lather and pulsating, throbbing veins stood out in his neck, despoiling his exceptional beauty. His proud, pompous peacock strut became something else entirely as he closed in on Cadance’s known location.

He would get his answers… or else.

The musty smell of the library tower made Gosling want to sneeze. This was once the residence of Twilight Sparkle, back when she was still Celestia’s student, and she and Cadance were here now, reminiscing over days gone by. The pair of them stood near an enormous hourglass having an animated discussion—and Gosling didn’t feel bad in the slightest for interrupting them.

Perhaps sensing trouble, Twilight’s friendly demeanour departed, her eyes narrowed, and her ears pivoted forwards in Gosling’s direction whilst he approached. Cadance too, cottoned on that something wasn’t quite right and after casting a sidelong glance at Twilight, she whispered something to the smaller mare out of the corner of her mouth.

It was Twilight who came forward and in a cautious voice asked, “Is something wrong, Gosling?”

“I came for some answers,” Gosling replied and he kept his eyes on Cadance.

“Well…”—Twilight let out a nervous chuckle while stepping sideways to be closer to Cadance—“you’re in luck, Gosling, this is a library.”

When Gosling did not laugh, concern deepened the furrows on Twilight’s brow. Cadance seemed to be sizing up the situation and within Gosling, a major battle raged: his guard training demanded that he be servile to the princesses that he served, while his pegasus nature seethed for want of answers. It was an awful place to be in and it only served to make everything worse. His own loyalty demanded that he do his job without question and it was difficult to override his sense of duty.

“Gosling, what troubles you?” Cadance asked, and the warm, sincerity in her voice made it difficult to be angry.

But Gosling wanted to be angry, because it felt good. All of this had been building up for a while, and after getting worked up about it, he sought release. Having convinced himself that Cadance had answers—that Cadance had withheld those answers—Gosling found it difficult to put together whatever it was he wanted to say in response. Far too late to do anything about it, Gosling found himself in the Soldier’s Dilemma, where one had to confront somepony higher in the chain of command. It only added to Gosling’s growing frustration.

“By any chance, Gosling, would this have something to do with you searching for information about Luna?”

She knew. Somehow, she knew. A hot prickle slithered up the back of Gosling’s neck, snaking through his mane, and it made all of his muscles go tight. If she knew, if she suspected something, it stood to reason that she had something to hide. Cadance—the busybody—knew. His breathing quickened and though he had so much to say, he still found himself at a loss for words.

“Cadance, what’s going on?” Twilight asked while turning her head around to get a better look at her sister-in-law’s face.

In a commanding, imperious tone, Cadance responded, “Twilight, stay out of this—”

“Don’t you talk down to me like you’re still my foalsitter!” Twilight, suffering from major piloerection, now had all of the hair along her spine standing up. Now that she had her dander worked up, she took a few steps away from Cadance, swung her body around, and now stood in a place of neutral ground, away from the now-startled pink alicorn. “What’s this about Luna and why is Gosling so upset? Why are you suddenly so defensive, Cadance? This isn’t like you at all. Did you bug out on me again?”

“Twilight, now is not the time.” Cadance’s voice was commanding, but gritty. “Gosling, I’m sorry that you stumbled into this, but you really need to leave this issue alone. Respect Luna’s privacy.”

While Twilight bristled and her face purplefied, Gosling found his tongue. “So something is being kept from me. I thought so. I want to know what’s going on with Luna. I’m not leaving until I get answers. Tell me, Cadance, or I’ll go right to Luna and demand some answers. Who knows how upsetting that might be. I’m trying to save her feelings right now and you can spare her some grief by telling me the truth.”

“You are in no position to lay down ultimatums,” Cadance snapped while her body took on a more defensive posture. “You will do no such thing, Gosling. Now drop this issue and let it rest.”

Drawing herself up to her full height, Twilight Sparkle went stiff-legged and her eyes narrowed into fine slits while she stared at her sister-in-law. “What’s going on with Luna and why is Gosling being denied information about his wife?” Now as purple as a dangerous stormcloud, Twilight advanced on Cadance, her movements jerky and her wings fidgeting against her sides. “What is going on with Luna that I don’t know about?”

Emboldened by having an ally, Gosling also advanced. “Something is being hidden, Twilight. Something big involving Luna. You save her from Nightmare Moon and she comes back as a filly. You saw her! You were there! Not long after, she just vanishes from public view completely, and when she does make a return to the public eye on Nightmare Night in Ponyville, she’s a fully grown adult mare. Does this seem odd to you?”

Twilight halted, her tail swishing from side to side in agitation, and her eyes widened while understanding ripped through the purple stormcloud that was her face. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t one of anger, but of distracted curiousity. “Hey, waitaminute, that's more than a little peculiar…” Her lips continued to move for a time, but no words came forth, but then she shook her head and looked up at her former-foalsitter. “What’s going on, Cadance! Is Luna a changeling?”

“What? No! Twilight, stay out of this!” Cadance snapped and her own face had progressed from pleasant pink to perturbed purple on the emotional-equine colour scale.

Something happened, Cadance’s horn flashed with pink light, but Twilight’s horn also flashed and now, Cadance appeared profoundly panicked while Twilight’s fury seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds. From the looks of things, Twilight was even angrier than he was, and something about that felt great.

“No, Cadance! No teleporting away to avoid this! As your fellow princess, I demand to know what’s going on! What secrets are being kept from me? Why wasn’t I trusted? Why can’t I be treated like an equal? Don’t I deserve it? Haven’t I done enough? Why is it that I am always the last to know anything? I’M SICK OF IT, CADANCE!”

“Twilight, back off! Now is not the time, and no, Luna isn’t a changeling!” Cadance, angry and panicked, took several steps back and was halted when her backside bumped into a half-height bookshelf that was devoid of books.

“No running away, Cadance. Now I want some answers!” Since Cadance had nowhere to go, Gosling advanced and moved closer to Twilight’s side. “I want to know who I married, Cadance—”

“GUARDS!” Cadance’s voice was like a deafening thunderclap in the spacious confines of the library; the word pealed and echoed through the room, causing Twilight and Gosling’s ears to prick in pain.

“Cadance, I’m not fuckin’ around witchu, I want some answers!”

Perhaps because help had been summoned, Cadance took the offensive. “How dare you speak to me like some Broncs hoodlum!” Her words were punctuated by a distant horn blast and her eyes blazed with a renewed confidence. “You will stand down, soldier, and I will not be spoken to in such a manner! STAND DOWN!”

Gosling flinched as every muscle, every nerve in his body jerked to obey, and just as he started to back away, Twilight delivered a stunning slap to his face with her wing. The pain was enough that it flooded his eyes with tears, his nose had a second heart thumping within, and his head—though swoony from pain—was free of Cadance’s command. Gritting his teeth, he took a moment to pull himself together while Twilight bared her teeth at her sister-in-law.

“That’s fighting dirty, Cadance! That’s sissy filly fighting! I thought you were better than that!” Twilight sucked in a deep breath with a wheezing sound and was about to unleash a torrent of words upon her former foalsitter, but explosive flashes of light burst all around her, and caused Twilight to go on the defensive.

Guards had arrived—unicorns dressed in ornate armor— and they arrived by the score. With each flash, more arrived, and in the span of an eyeblink, the library had become crowded. Gosling found himself surrounded and dozens of razor-sharp spears were now pointed right at him. Twilight too was in a similar position, and a wall of armor was now around Cadance.

A century of Immortal Solars had arrived.

More annoyed than angry, Twilight’s lip curled back in a sneer, she snarled, and with an explosive burst of magic that made Gosling’s ears pop in such a painful way that he feared that they were bleeding, every single guard in the room vanished—but their armor and spears were left behind. Twilight was powerful beyond measure, but teleporting a hundred ponies, plus their weapons and armor were beyond her limits. For now.

“Dirty pool, Cadance…” Twilight began clucking her tongue and she kicked a helmet away from her. “Dirty, dirty pool.”

For the first time in his life, Gosling watched as the sun rose indoors…

Princess Celestia exploded into existence, causing several bookshelves to go flying. Gosling was lifted from his hooves and thrown into the massive hourglass, while Cadance was flipped over onto her back. Somehow, Twilight was the only one who didn’t budge, and she had an unbearably smug look upon her face while she stood rooted to the spot.

“Since you called the guards, Cadance, I called the teacher!”

Wings out, eyes white with crackling energy, and her mane popping with thousands of tiny, fiery explosions, Celestia was a terrifying figure. Gosling had never seen her like this, and though it was dreadfully stupid to do so, he reminded himself that this was his wife and that he had a right be angry, so he held on to his fury, refusing to let go. Groaning, Cadance rolled over and got back up on her hooves, then stood there, rubbing her head with one dusty wing.

What is going on here?

Celestia’s terse sentence shattered the hourglass that Gosling was standing near, and he shielded his face with his wings. It was that voice again, that strange overpowering voice that seemed to be more inside of the head than outside of the head, and he could never quite make up his mind on what it sounded like. Only one thing was for certain: it was the voice that would announce the end of the world.

“Cadance was being a real bi—”

Be silent, Twilight Sparkle!

This time, the force of Celestia’s voice blew over a bookcase and sent hundreds of books spilling out onto the floor. Twilight’s ears flapped like windsocks in a hurricane, and her lips were peeled back from her teeth. Had her hooves not been rooted to the floor by magic, she might have gone tumbling to the far side of the room.

“I came for some answers!” Gosling, emboldened, lowered his wings and dared to look Celestia in the eye. “There’s something funny going on with Luna and I have a right to know!”

The alabaster alicorn blinked, but the white flames that concealed her eyes didn’t extinguish. If anything, they blazed even brighter and Gosling was torn between throwing himself down upon the ground so he could prostrate himself before her or to stand in defiance. Thankfully, Celestia spared him the decision, because she focused her burning stare on Twilight once more.

You. You forcibly conjured me to this location against my will. Explain yourself at once, Twilight Sparkle. Give me a reason to spare you for your trespass.

Twilight, now cowed, took on the aspect of a small, frightened filly. “The guards showed up. Cadance sicced the guards on Gosling and he had spears pointed at him. It felt terribly unfair. All he wanted was some answers, and Cadance got ugly about it.”

Is this true, my former student?

Cadance, who was now the recipient of Celestia’s burning stare, shrank back and begin to squirm, but was unable to return Celestia’s gaze. Looking down at the floor, Cadance shuffled her hooves and she too, appeared very much like a scolded filly. “I was angry and when I felt ganged up on, I panicked. I suffered a moment of poor judgement.”

I can expect this coming from him.

Celestia extended one wing and pointed with her primaries at Gosling.

He is still a colt whose blood runs hot. It shames me to say it, but he is justified in his anger. As for the two of you… neither of you have any suitable excuse for your actions. While I am positive that both of you have plenty to say for yourselves, I have no desire to hear it at the moment. Both of you have failed me.

Perhaps it was his youthful, heated blood as Celestia had put it, but Gosling made a bold advance upon the astronomically angry alicorn. She burned like the sun and he could feel waves of heat striking him with near-physical force. The stone floor was unbearably warm and grew warmer with each step closer to Celestia. Gosling himself was burning up from within, his pride still pricked, and his anger left unsatisfied.

“I want some answers from yous,” Gosling said as he came to a stop a yard away from Celestia. “And you’s going to cut it out with that voice thing you’s doing, ‘cause I ain’t gonna put up with that shouting nonsense.”

Is that so?

“I CAN SHOUT TOO!” Gosling bounced around on his hooves, flapped his wings, and then put himself into Celestia’s face. It was like standing too close to a fire, and he began sweating right away. “I SLEEP IN THE SAME BED AS YOU AND I’VE WATCHED AS YOUS DROPPED A DEUCE IN THE TOILET! I’VE SEEN YOUS AT YOUR BEST AND WORST! AND I AM NOT GONNA PUT UP WITH THIS SHIT!”

Twilight fainted and hit the floor with a meaty smack.

“Secrets were kept,” Celestia said, her voice a calm, emotionless deadpan, but her eyes still blazed with inner light. “Secrets had to be kept, and the fewer that knew about them, the better. You have my most sincere, most heartfelt apology, Gosling. It was I who commanded that these secrets be kept.”

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

Whipping his head about, Gosling almost gave himself a neck injury trying to look at Luna. Something about her words were off, something about the way she spoke, which seemed to change at odd intervals. He considered her for a moment, then considered Celestia, and tasted hot bile in the back of his throat.

“No fuckin’ way am I fallin’ for that shit,” Gosling said while backing away. “Luna shows up after Celestia does the big angry alicorn thing and takes the blame for it, while saying this line of nonsense about how she thought it was a bad idea.” Wings out, trying to make himself as intimidating as possible, he sneered in contempt at Celestia. “You’s still trying to protect your sister by trying to redirect my anger away from her. You’s trying to take the blame for this alone, so I won’t be pissed at Luna. What, yous think I’m stupid? Is that what yous be thinkin’? Yous think yous married a stupid prettyboy? Whossat pretty fuckin’ birdy?”

“I wanted to tell you—”

“DON’T FUCKIN’ LIE TO ME!” Bucking out with his hind legs, Gosling bashed a fallen bookshelf into splinters. “I don’t even fuckin’ know yous! I have no fuckin’ idea who yous even are! I married a stranger who FUCKIN’ LIES TO ME!”

Frozen in place, Luna sniffled and her mascara began to run. It appeared as though she was about to say something, her mouth opened, but no words came out. She blinked, her mouth still open, and then there was a soft click of her teeth when her mouth closed. Perhaps sensing trouble, Cadance lifted Twilight, wrapped herself in a fizzling, popping shield bubble, and then made a hasty retreat for the door.

Celestia did nothing to stop her.

“The truth is,” Luna began, and her voice was strained, “Celestia wanted to tell you. I swear this is the truth. We fought, she and I. We bickered. Things were said. Even though she was uncomfortable with it, in the end, she agreed to keep my secret, but also said that things might end in disaster because of my bad decision.”

Cringing from mental pain, Gosling ground his teeth together and then turned away from Luna. “I don’t believe a word you’s saying. The way you’s speakin’ right now, it’s off, Luna. I don’t even know who yous is. You’s is still lying to me. You’s an illusion Luna, whatever yous is right now, yous ain’t real.”

“It isn’t an illusion.” There was a gulp as Luna swallowed and the soft rustle of feathers rubbing against fuzz could be heard while she squirmed. “This is an age spell I cast upon myself. It is magically taxing, rather than mentally taxing, and I do it when I need to be lucid and have clear thoughts. When mine sister sent me a message that the worst has happened and that everything she had said would come to pass has actually come to pass, I came to face the music, as the modern parlance goes—”

“But you couldn’t face me as yourself?” Gosling demanded and the back of his mind took some small comfort in the fact that Celestia’s message to her sister had included an ‘I told you so.’ Every muscle in his body had frightful twitches and he could feel the blood pounding in his ears.

“Gosling, Equestria must appear that it is ruled by competent leaders. I am eternal, so I changed my outsides to reflect what I am on the inside—”

“Don’t even start with that!” Gosling stalked away, his hooves stomping, and he waved his wings about in an effort to cool off. “You lied to me! You deceived me! You—”

“What does it matter how I look on the outside to you, Gosling? I am eternal!”

Seething, Gosling bucked out and kicked another bookshelf, which also shattered into splinters of sundered wood. He tried to speak, couldn’t and stomped away again, snorting and flicking his tail in the rudest, most inconsiderate way he could muster. While his body language suggested a pegasus looking for a fight, his retreat from Luna also had much to say.

“Why are you so angry?” Luna demanded. “I don’t get it! If you would just tell me, we could work this out!”

“Because!” Gosling spat out the word and then hesitated, unsure if he should speak in anger, but then the words came tumbling out anyway. “Because, more than once now, I’ve almost fucked you and the idea that I might’ve been fucking some little filly in disguise MAKES ME HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS, YOU DUMB, IGNORANT, OUT OF TOUCH CUNT!”

Celestia face-winged and very nearly impaled herself on her own horn. Luna’s mouth fell open in shock. As for Gosling, he took out his fury on another bookshelf and smashed it into bits. Still angry, Gosling bucked a bust and though the stone pony head didn’t break, it did tip over with a mighty, mighty crash. It just wasn’t enough though, so Gosling continued to storm about, smashing and breaking everything in his path like a whirlwind dervish of destruction.

“I deserved that.” Luna’s words were enough to make Gosling stop mid-buck and a bookshelf was spared—for now. “I… I… think I understand. In the modern parlance it is called ‘informed consent.’ I offered myself up to you without revealing myself to you. That… that was wrong of me. You have every right to hate me… I would apologise, but at the moment I am not certain it would make any difference.”

Gosling glared, but said nothing.

“I should go—”

“Luna, don’t you dare.” Celestia’s voice was as cold as a winter’s dawn. “I put my own relationship and happiness on the line for you. If you walk away right now, I will be gravely insulted.”

“What can I say, Sister?” Luna shrank away from Celestia like a shadow retreating from the advancing sun. “Everything you said would happen has happened. You were right. Again. I was foolish and unreasonable. Again. And after everything fell apart, you tried to take the consequences for me. Again. I am unfit to rule, I am an unfit sister, and I am an unfit wife. Again. I shall be in my airie, contemplating my many failures.” Covering her face with her wing, Luna turned to go.

“Yous! Get your sorry, lying, cowardly ass back here, I’m not done witchu! I’m not letting you go off and wallow in your stupid self-pity, you whiny, deceitful, treacherous little crybaby!” Gosling stomped his hoof and did not see the wide-eyed stare that Celestia was giving him. “You walk out that door and we’s gonna throw down, Luna. I don’t care if yous kick my ass, I’ll make yous do it. Somehow, one way or another, yous is gonna eat the consequences from this.”

Freezing on the spot, Luna stood, unmoving, hardly breathing, and the loudest sound in the room was of Gosling’s panting. Celestia, now more or less herself, her eyes a rosy shade of dawn once more, crossed the room to where her sister stood, reached out with her wing, and patted her on the neck.

“Come into the light, Luna.” Celestia’s voice was little more than a whisper. “You just made our beloved husband threaten to kick a filly’s—”

“I am not a filly!” Luna blurted out and she slapped her sister’s wing away with her own. “But I cannot deny that I do so rightfully deserve a good and proper beating. Sister… truly, I did believe I would’ve been able to maintain the illusion until things fixed themselves and everything sorted itself out.”

“Right now, Luna, you’re still clinging to the lie and Gosling has no way of knowing who—or what you are. He has lived with your deceit… and both of us have failed him. Me most of all, because I allowed this to happen for your sake.”

Casting her gaze downward, Luna deflated and appeared defeated. “Maybe I am a filly, but I am not a little filly, Gosling. I assure you, I’m of age—”

“By which standards?” Gosling demanded. “Which age? Which era?”

Eyes flashing with anger, Luna bared her teeth, then replied, “I’ve born foals in a body younger than this one! Look, I don’t know how old I am, not exactly, but I am not so different from you! Right now, I am going through the most difficult puberty I’ve ever gone through in my long, troubling existence, and these constant illusion spells are ripping my mind apart! I didn’t have a choice! I had to be the princess that ponies needed! It feels like everything is tearing me—”

“I feel like I don’t even know you,” Gosling said, cutting Luna off.

“You know me best when I’m your playmate, you ignorant boob! That night when I scared you in the hallway and snapped your picture! All those times we played and had fun together! Watching movies! Playing arcade games! Chariot races! That was me being me in the only way that I possibly could while still doing what was expected of me! I’m about the same age as you are, you bookshelf smashing featherbrain!”

“I swear, if I married some underage filly—”

“Gosling, I allowed for this ruse to happen, and for that, I am deeply sorry, but I would not allow you to compromise your values in such a way.” Celestia cleared her throat, reached out, and patted her sister once more. “Chronologically, Luna is about your age. Maybe just a little younger. I fretted about this for a long time, and so did Cadance. And the whole thing with Cadance is my fault—”

“Your fault?” Eyes narrowing, ears pricking, Gosling gave the white alicorn a nod.

“The secret had to be protected. Cadance… she’s been in on the plan since the beginning and is one of the few ponies that know. Without Cadance’s knowledge, I placed a geas on her, binding her to protect the secret at all costs. I… I… I did it after the changeling invasion of Canterlot. It was an act of desperation, I’ll confess. If the rest of the world found out that Luna is still little and underpowered, it would go bad for us. If our enemies found out, if they sensed weakness, they might move to strike.”

“You bitch!” Gosling spat out the words in contempt. “You owe Cadance the truth and an apology!”

Bowing her head, Celestia let out a sorrowful whinny, and then replied, “I do.”

Standing amidst the now-ruined library, Gosling realised that both of his wives were strangers to him. Betrayed, angry, furious, he thought about leaving. No, more than leaving, he thought about leaving. A more permanent goodbye. Whilst he thought about it, he thought about his mother, and his thoughts of her were like a great weight upon his spine. It would break her heart if he were to quit now, if he were to walk away. As bad as this was, as awful as it was, it wasn’t adultery, the only justified reason that Gosling held for divorce. The pegasus ponies of the First Tribes mated for life, and it was a sacred bond.

He shared his mother’s pain and shame for her having never married.

With a heavy heart and great sadness, he considered the foals in Celestia’s belly. No, walking away was not an option. He was the Confessor of the Pegasus Pony tribe. Walking away meant never saying why he walked away, because he would keep this secret. It would mean deep and abiding shame, and casting an awful shadow upon the Sisters. The First Tribes would whisper, and conspire, and speak in hushed whispers to one another about adultery—why else would he leave otherwise?

With a defeated sigh, Gosling’s rage left him, leaving him with only the dull ache of profound emptiness. Luna kept trying to slap her sister’s wing away, but Celestia was persistent and kept trying to comfort her sibling. Trying to muster some emotion to fill the empty void within him, he kicked a suit of armor out of his way and then stared down at a nearby spear.

“You’re thinking about leaving—”

“Reading my mind, Sunshine?” Gosling didn’t bother to raise his head to look at her.

“No.” Celestia’s voice was flat, unfeeling, and cold. “Just saying aloud the one thing that I am most terrified of. I don’t want to go back to how I was. Loneliness was like a cancer in my bones. Gosling, I am so sorry… I wanted so much to tell you—”

“No, I get it, I do.” More bile crept up Gosling’s throat and made his voice scratchy. “I’m temporary. You and Luna have each other forever. So because I’m just a pretty butterfly of spring that’ll be dead by fall, you kept your loyalty to Luna. I get that. I understand. I do.”

“Gosling, that is very unfair of you to say—”

“Doesn’t make it any less true though, does it? I mean, we’re being honest now, right? At least I’m trying to be. I have no idea about the two of you.” When Gosling looked at the two sisters now, he felt like an outsider. “One day, I’ll be gone, and you two will still have each other. You two have to live together, and you’ve already hurt each other a lot. Luna betrayed you, I’m guessing that you’ve betrayed Luna in some form or another, and now, you two are committed to one another. You must be. You have to be. I have proof.”

“I wanted to tell you—”

“And even though you knew it wasn't the right thing, you still took your sister’s side. Even worse, when confronted about it, you tried to trick me into blaming you, so Luna would be blameless.” Turning around, away from the two sisters, he looked at a painting on the wall of two beautiful alicorn princesses chasing each other around a stylised, overlapping moon and sun. Nausea overcame him and he felt rather sick. The yogurt and the oats had turned on him, and were now a major liability.

“I can’t let this happen!” The panic in Luna’s voice caused it to crack. “I’m losing my best friend… my playmate. My roostmate—”

Upon hearing her evoke this sacred bond between pegasi, Gosling winced with pain and almost vomited.

“—that I trust so much. I was once the Element of Loyalty. Look what I have become now. Please, Gosling, let me fix this somehow. Please? I deserve your anger, not my sister. She was covering for me, just as she has always covered for me, and I manipulated her emotions to get what I wanted. I was selfish!”

Closing his eyes, Gosling refused to look at Luna as she approached, and the sound of her hooves striking the floor caused his muscles to bunch up in painful ways. Resentment came rushing in, a torrent, a flood that filled the empty spaces within—but no anger. His rage had flown from him like a bird in autumn fleeing the cruel chill of winter.

“Gosling, I beg of you, turn around now and see me for who and what I truly am. I throw myself upon your mercy and vow to never keep another secret from you, but please, spare my sister. It is time I took the blame for my actions. Please, turn around and look at me.”

Undecided on his course of action, Gosling pondered what to do next, because whatever came next would involve committing to it, and he was hesitant to commit to anything right now. His trust had been wounded, and while he wanted some time to go off and lick his wounds, he thought about what Luna had said. Roostmate. That was more than a lover, or a friend, it went beyond those things. Was she lying? Playing with his emotions? Surely she understood that such a word would yank his chain. It was the most sacred of pegasus bonds and was never said lightly.

But how she had lied…

She had lied to her roostmate.

This made everything hurt all the worse.

Swallowing the phlegmy lump of bile in his throat, Gosling had no gods left to turn to, to pray to, to make supplications to. His gods—both of them—the gods of the First Tribes, had betrayed him. Did they even realise what they had done? Everything that made him the pony that he was, all of his faith, his devotion, all of his goodness, it all felt smashed to ruin right now.

“Confessor… I beg your forgiveness, for I have committed great wrong!”

Something cold lanced through Gosling’s heart, a pain like nothing else, and it robbed him of his ability to respond. Facing the wall, Gosling was forced to make the most important decision of his life, and everything hinged upon this moment. In silence, aware of Luna’s torment, Gosling searched his heart…

Author's Note

Sorry for the delay. This was about three chapters worth that I just couldn't find a good place for a break. Next chapter promises to be long, too.

Chapter 46

...And found only painful, consuming emptiness. All of his delusions had been stripped away and his soul laid bare. The First Tribes saw Princess Celestia as beautiful, perfect, she was flawless and without blemish, she was radiant golden glory. She was blessed assurance, a reassuring force of faith, because one could count upon the dawn coming every morning. As for Luna, Gosling himself had been working to restore her worship, to re-establish, to reignite the spark of faith the First Tribes had in her. It was a restoration, a healing of the natural order, and Gosling had felt the strange, unknown, mysterious magic that came with faith.

But what terrible, tarnished idols he served, what dreadful, fallen goddesses. All of the things that the First Tribes shunned, all of the things that the First Tribes rejected, all of the things that the First Tribes called sinful—the Sisters were all of this and so much more. The First Tribes held a strict code of morals in their worship—such high standards of perfection were demanded—and for what, exactly? The exaltation of such flawed, loathsome beings. Everything that his faith had taught him to reject—to soundly denounce—stood behind him.

As Confessor, it was now his job, his duty, his obligation to be a defender of his faith. He held one of the highest offices in the land. His job was to be a force of moral righteousness, but how could he do that if he had to lie? Encouraging others to worship the Sisters felt dishonest now. What great moral force were they? What force of goodness? While the First Tribes held themselves to the highest standards, the Sisters held no such tenets. Was nothing taboo? Was nothing forbidden?

Even a little white lie tore Gosling apart inside and shredded his guts asunder. He was loyal to a fault and with every breath he drew, he tried to live by the standards by which he had been raised, even when he found them hypocritical and unfair. The treatment of he and his mother stood out with sharp relief in his mind, and the Elders of the First Tribes had not always been kind nor righteous in their actions. But Gosling’s faith had held, because he had told himself that ponies came and went, ponies had short, flawed lives, but Princess Celestia was eternal. She alone carried a crown of moral righteousness that mortal ponies could not hope to bear.

It was gone now, all gone; the veil was ripped in twain and Gosling saw the truth.

The dust of the library tickled his nose, but Gosling was too depleted to sneeze. He couldn’t be bothered. Everything was dead inside, the fire of his faith had been extinguished and even his anger had gone cold. He couldn’t even muster the emotion to be alarmed about the absence of feeling. It felt exactly as the Elders had promised, as they had foretold; a life without faith was to have a nihilistic void within. At least this part held true and not everything was a lie.

Against his own better judgment, Gosling turned around, his hooves shuffling over wooden splinters and spilt books. Lifting his heavy head, he looked at Luna, and saw a stranger. She was smaller than he, similar to what he knew, but also different. Her mane and tail hung down in strands of purest blue, midnight purple, and the silver of moonlight. Nothing that he saw was expected, least of all the frail, trembling, terrified pony before him. She was cowering, and the Luna that he knew did not cower. Had he any faith left, it might have been damaged by what he witnessed.

“I thought your mane was blue,” Gosling muttered, breaking the heavy silence that had settled in and was threatening to fortify.

“It is when I am but a little filly, just reborn.”

Luna’s voice was shrill, terrified, and caused Gosling’s ears to prick. Even now, he was a soldier, and the sound of a scared, frightened filly caused him to react. Now, at this moment, he resented his training, he loathed everything that had made him the pony that he was. He found himself hating his own mother just a little bit, because she had raised him this way. She had raised him with a sense of morality that the Sisters did not possess. His mother was a better pony.

“When I age a little, the purple and silver creeps in. When Celestia is small, her mane is the most nauseating hue of putrescent pink.” There was a flash of orange when Luna licked her lips, and then she continued in a screechy whine, “Gosling, I don’t understand what went wrong, not exactly, but I am aware that I have wronged you.”

With his eyes, Gosling glanced in Celestia’s direction and had to immediately look away because the pain on her face was too much to bear. Looking at Luna was no better and he found himself with no place to rest his eyes. At the moment, it might be better to be blind. He thought about turning away to stare at the wall again, or a painting, or anything really, because he didn’t want to look at these mares.

If it wasn’t for having both wings and a horn, Luna could have been one of the many fillies in his old secondary school. She had embarrassing acne and the awkward adolescent funk that made life unbearable, because you really couldn’t smell it but you knew that other ponies could. It was the sweaty, hormone-laden stench that announced to the world, “I’m sexually developing!” No doubt, Gosling probably still had a whiff of it himself, and smelling Luna now, he was reminded of how it felt to be overwhelmed with crippling self-consciousness.

Gosling could understand a filly’s vanity; of course Luna wouldn’t want him to see her this way, and upon having this realisation, this flash of insight, a lone emotion stood out within the void: sympathy. Luna had gone to insane, crazy lengths to preserve the illusion of perfect beauty—an act that Gosling understood. He had his own crazy beauty regimen that kept him free of unsightly cratered blemishes on his skin and he kept more beauty products on the bathroom counter than Celestia did.

“You lied to me.” Colder words had not been spoken and Gosling shivered when they passed his lips. “Even worse, you made your sister lie to me.”

“A few more years and none of this would matter.” Luna blinked, her blue opal eyes flashing behind eyelashes that ran with mascara. “You weren’t supposed to find out. Just a few more years and this ruse would have been cast aside. It is only a matter of time, Gosling, just a few blinks of the eye and all of this trouble would have passed.”

“How many blinks of the eye until I’m dead and none of this matters?”

Whimpering, Luna flinched and turned away as if she had been struck. Each breath was a whimper and black tears ran down her acned cheeks, leaving behind streaky stains. Gosling saw the depths of Luna’s vanity, because she wore makeup beneath illusion. Either that, or all of this was a lie as well, he couldn’t tell and had no way of knowing.

“I am not the pretty sister.” Staring down at the floor, Luna kicked her hooves together and the vulnerability in her voice was heartbreaking—or would have been had Gosling had any feeling left. “This goes beyond hiding how I really am from the world at large. I don’t want anypony seeing me right now. And certainly not you. This is unbelievably painful right now, Gosling… I hope you’ll believe me when I say that.”

Jaw muscles clenched tight, Gosling swallowed, but said nothing.

“I am the petty, manipulative sister, and I cried, and I bawled, and I had fits and tantrums until Celestia broke down and gave me what I wanted. She didn’t want to do this, honest, she didn’t, and she warned me that this might end badly. It was only a few more years until this awkwardness had passed and then the ruse would have been cast aside. It’s been stressful on me… it’s been tearing apart my mind. The illusions want to act their own way and I have to fight them constantly. It’s damaging my mind and I didn’t want to have to deal with… with… with…” Luna stammered, but failed to find the words.

Gosling watched as Luna failed to articulate whatever it was that she wanted to say. He saw the pain in her eyes, he watched her flounder while she tried to make things right. Whatever words she longed to say eluded her, and with his stony expression, he knew that he wasn’t making things easy for her. Luna, an alicorn, a creature of beautiful perfection, struggled with the simple task of explaining herself.

“I am believed to be of two minds... they call it being bipolar. It is relatively new and isn’t understood. In the old days, we called it lunacy. I was the crazy sister of the night and I had a disease of the mind named after me. It was painful, it was insulting, and it drove me crazy. Lunacy…” Her words trailed off as her orange tongue darted out once more and then lingered in the corner of her mouth where her lips were chapped.

Flapping her folded wings against her sides, Luna fought to continue. “The constant state of illusion was making it worse. It was making everything worse. Only a few knew the cause, the secret source of agitation. Cadance was one of them, of course. She was staking the entirety of her reputation on the claim that I would see improvement, that I would get better in time. There’s been a lot of questions about me being fit to rule and the whole bipolar issue casts a dark shadow upon me. Most who have opinions on this matter have no idea about the truth, and Cadance was constantly telling them to give me time to readjust to the modern era before any major decision was made. Many call for me to abdicate and Cadance, poor Cadance, she has bore the brunt of it with her assertions.”

The first inkling of understanding trickled into Gosling’s grey matter. He knew about the bipolar diagnosis, and he was aware of the pressure on Luna to abdicate her throne. With the constant state of aggravation caused by living in an illusion—the sudden realisation caused Gosling to recoil and he retreated away from Luna until his hindquarters smacked the stone wall.

“Luna, why are you doing this to yourself? Why?”

“Duty, Gosling. Surely you can understand.”

“No”—he shook his head from side to side—“I don’t.”

“Gosling, you might not be a warrior, but you are a soldier, a born one. Many soldiers wear duty like an armor, but yours comes from your heart. You are dutiful to a fault, to the point of weakness. If I were to command you as your princess right now, you would obey.”

A miserable sullenness wormed through Gosling’s mind when he knew that Luna’s words were true. He would. Sullenness fermented into something worse, something almost like self-loathing. After joining the guard, Gosling couldn’t imagine being anything else, he could imagine no life outside of the guard. The armor suited him.

“So in duty, I suffer, and hope for the best, but I also fear the future. Even without the illusions that are shredding my mind, I am not the most stable of mares. My mood swings are violent, going from melancholy to mania and back again. Once the shadow of the illusions were gone, I had plans to open up my heart to you… when I was ‘me’ again, and not whatever it is that I am now. I was waiting, impatient, I wanted the dark clouds to pass before I revealed the Majesty of the Night to you.”

The dull ache of the icicle going through his heart returned, and Gosling felt his throat grow tight. As much as he didn’t want to, he understood Luna, but he didn’t know how to feel about it. Understanding didn’t make things better, if anything, it made everything worse, and he had no way of sorting everything out. Nothing made sense right now, and he wanted to talk to somepony—but who? There was literally nopony he could talk to about this to help him sort his feelings out. He held no trust for Cadance, even though she wasn’t entirely at fault, and talking to his mother about this was impossible. Maybe he could spill his guts to Twilight and accomplish two things at once: secure the bonds of friendship and give poor Twilight some much needed truth.

“Gosling… I wanted to tell you—”

“Sunshine, shut up! I don’t wanna hear from you right now! You let your sister do this to us. If you can rule a nation but you can’t rule your manipulative little sister, maybe you should think about abdicating as well! It was a dereliction of duty!”

There was a gasp from Celestia, whom Gosling avoided looking at, and he could only imagine how much pain his words had caused. Did he mean them? Maybe. The words tasted like blasphemy, but had an unpleasant, bitter truth about them. A new emotion arrived, regret, and he was almost overwhelmed by the sheer oppressiveness of it. Those were words that could never be taken back, and from the looks of things, he had just ripped Luna a new one as well.

Was he speaking as a soldier or a husband? He couldn’t tell. A soldier concerned themselves with duty, but so did husbands. Chewing on his lip, Gosling surveyed the ruined library around him. Spears, armor, books, chunks of wood that used to be bookshelves, and two very broken alicorns. Like tricky magical books, alicorns could not be read, they only revealed what they wanted to have seen by the reader, but hid everything else away.

“You do not understand what my sister risked for my sake,” Luna said in a pained whine that made Gosling’s ears prick. “She had made herself observe time once more just so that she might savour these precious seconds with you. She has intentionally reduced her immortal perspective so you won’t be an eyeblink. There is so much more that you don’t understand, Gosling, but I am willing to tell you if it will help make things right. I caused this to happen, so it should fall on me to make this right somehow.”

“This is only the second time that Luna has done something like this, Gosling.” Celestia’s voice held an odd tremulation to it, and he was unable to determine the cause. “Taking responsibility, I mean… she punishes herself for becoming Nightmare Moon… allowing it to happen. She knows her own part in that. The fact that she is baring her soul to you right now… Gosling, I know how angry you must be, but I am begging you… begging you to give my sister a chance to make things right. The very fact that she has not fled the situation and left me to clean up the mess… Gosling, whatever it is that you decide to do next will determine Luna’s course in ways that even I cannot predict. If she sees that she can face the consequences and it isn’t so bad—”

Wincing, Gosling knew the words before Celestia had finished them. “Then she might be better about facing them in the future.” Duty, like a fierce hornblast, roused Gosling from his funk and he felt his spirits lift. Whatever he did next, whatever he chose, whichever course of action he took, it might very well determine the fate of the nation. His choice would have far-reaching consequences and ripple effects beyond imagining. While that was important, it was vital and meaningful, there was something else that he found of even more importance…

And that was Luna.

“Why are you doing this?” Gosling demanded of Luna.

“For my sister’s sake, for her happiness—”

“Fuck this, I’m gone.” Plowing into Luna, he shoved her aside, stepped over some empty armor, and then had to avoid a sharp spear point that threatened his leg.

“Wait!” Luna’s voice filled the ruined library and echoed among the devastation. “For my sake as well. For my own happiness. I really did mean what I said when I called you my roostmate, Gosling. This is hard for me and I’m struggling. Please stay!”

Halting, Gosling felt two sets of eyes upon him, burning holes into his soul. Luna, having recovered, now moved in front of him, and he saw nothing of the princess he once knew. She was… a pony. With acne, runny mascara, chapped lips, and red, bloodshot eyes. Luna was at her least attractive, but she was facing him and doing so without her customary cloak of illusion.

“This is the second hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I want to do right! The Elements of Harmony did something to me… I cannot explain it, but I am motivated to do well. I want this current life of mine, however long this particular body might last, I want to do good. The last life, the last body, all of that ended badly. That was my plunge into darkness and I want this to be my return to the light! Please!”

Gosling waited while casting a dubious glance in Luna’s general direction.

“Forget about my sister, this is about me!”

“There’s a lot I don’t understand,” Gosling said to Luna, shaking his head. “You speak of death so casually, yet here you are.”

“I am careless with my bodies… at least, I have been in the past. I’ve never lived past a century or so. Knowing that I will return, it makes me careless in battle and I am lousy about retreat. My carelessness has consequences, because when I’m little, my magic is weak, and it feels that sometimes I am always developing but never matured. It’s complicated… being an immortal is complicated. I once allowed myself to die because I was bored and wanted my sister to suffer—it bothers her, you see, it is like sticking your tongue up your nose to annoy somepony, but I suppose this is far worse.”

There were no words. Gosling could find no words. Nothing during his brief existence had prepared him for this, and for all of his studies, for all of his learning, for all that he had already witnessed, he had nothing he could say about what he had just heard. While staring down the difficult concept of immortality, Gosling’s brain went mercifully blank.

“My carelessness has always left me the weaker, but Celestia has died many times as well. Though that seems to be in the past. When we’re both small and weak, it is a struggle for us to move the sun, the moon, and the heavenly bodies. I messed up everything by allowing myself to become Nightmare Moon. With me gone, if something would have happened to Celestia, she might not have been able to wrangle the sun, the moon, and everything else.”

When Luna sucked in a deep breath, Gosling braced himself.

“Celestia had to build up a fortress of civilisation and then cut herself off from life. She had to stop living. My sister had to stop taking risks. Because of what I did, I left her in an awful spot and she was forced to survive, not as an immortal might, but as a mortal living in fear of their own life. Well, sort of as a mortal. She couldn’t risk death, Gosling, it would have been disastrous. So she had to stop doing all of the things that she loved to do, like bear foals and be in love. Foalbirth is risky and we’ve both died in birth, only to live as fillies among the very offspring that we brought into the world.”

Mind reeling, Gosling struggled to take it all in.

“I hurt my sister… I took life away from her. She couldn’t risk doing anything that might cause rebirth. Now she’s existed for at least a thousand years or so, and she’s grown in might and power. She’s learned much about our bodies and how we function. She’s grown strong, but at a terrible, terrible price, Gosling, and it is all my fault. Everything is my fault. And now, just as my sister has started to recover herself, I blew it. I caused this. I was selfish, and spoiled, and I exploited my sister’s one weakness to get my way, and I’m sorry!”

The clatter of metal against stone caused Gosling’s ears to prick and when he tilted his head he saw Celestia approaching in the corner of his vision. Her regal mask was gone, she was no statue, and he could see the hurt etched into her face. Hardening his heart—or trying to do so—he reminded himself that the only reason why he saw some expression upon her face was because she was allowing him to see it.

“I think the two of you have much to discuss with one another,” Celestia said as she touched both Gosling and Luna with her wings. “Gosling, you and I have much to discuss as well, but that will come later, after you’ve spoken with Luna. As for myself, I owe Cadance and Twilight an apology, and I must go make things right.”

“Don’t leave me!” Luna’s voice was one of foalish panic and she threw herself against Celestia. “Please, don’t go! This is scary!”

“Sister, it is best if you faced up to the consequences of your mistakes on your own.” A tear rolled down Celestia’s cheek, but her voice was firm, unyielding. “I have covered for your mistakes too long and bore the consequences upon my back. It has left you weak and timid. This ends… now.”

“But… but… no!” Luna let out a mewling whine and tried to follow when Celestia began to move away. “I can’t do this on my own!”

“Then turn to Gosling for help.” A change came over Celestia’s voice, which had turned as cold as the Canterhorn during the dark of winter. “He is your husband, your preenmate, and you, you called him your roostmate. If you truly meant what you said, act like it.”

Using her wing, Celestia shoved her sister with enough force to send her careening into Gosling, and the impact was almost enough to bowl him over. Try as he might, he could not recall a time when Celestia had acted so cold and impersonal. It took him several moments and a few rapid blinks, but he realised that Celestia was angry with Luna. Sudden worry chilled his blood and real panic gripped his heart, crushing the icicle that had been rammed through it. The last thing he wanted was a tear between the sisters, all of Equestria’s history was what it was because of the last time the sisters quarreled.

There was too much at stake and Gosling knew this. Flogging his brain, he tried to think of something, but it was hard, and the sudden flood of emotion was overtaking him. He could only think of one thing, but he had trouble remembering all of it. Wrapping his wing around Luna’s neck, he said to her, “I am a little pale shadow—”

“A penumbra,” Luna continued, cutting him off. “A patch of darkness between the Sun and the Moon. I have chosen to wax and wane between the two of you. I stand in her light and tread in your darkness. For now, I have had enough of the light, and I have chosen to retreat into the darkness, as any good shadow does.”

“H-h-how?” Gosling stammered while his grip around Luna with his wing tightened. “I know I said it, but I had trouble remembering the words… how?”

“I revisit those words in dreams and remind myself of them daily. They give me strength when things get rough. That was the day I accepted you as my roostmate, and knew that I would do anything for you.”

“Except for telling me the truth.” As hard as it was, Gosling looked into Luna’s blue opal eyes, perhaps hoping for a peek into her soul.

“Luna, you will be fine. Gosling, I will beg your forgiveness later. For now, mistakes must be corrected. My heart aches with shame from what I have done.” Then, as the final word left Celestia’s mouth, she vanished.

Trembling, no longer having the protection or the support of her sister, Luna asked, “Are we still friends?”

Filling his lungs, Gosling thought about what to say, how to respond, and tried to understand how he felt. She was trembling, vulnerable, and exposed. Celestia was gone, but not without saying something profound. With silence, Celestia had said that she trusted him with her sister, even after his fit of rage. Heart and soul aching, Gosling struggled for something to say.

“Luna… I…”

Author's Note

Wait for it...

Chapter 47

“Yes?” Luna leaned into Gosling and with her head tilted upwards, her snoot was mere inches from his jaw. Each breath was shallow and through her mouth, which was opened just enough to reveal her teeth. At this moment, she might have been any filly from any secondary school in Equestria, and her expression of terror did funny things to the features of her face.

For Gosling, this brought back uncomfortable memories of Skyfire Flash. A lie had destroyed his life, had sent him running, it had caused him to uproot himself from his home so that he might find sanctuary elsewhere. Even now, there was still pain, even though he had made peace with Skyfire Flash. But it was a hard peace, and he discovered a part of himself in the process that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with. While he had done right—that much couldn’t be argued—he took the hard right that placed pressure on Skyfire Flash, forcing her to change.

For Luna, he could do no less.

“Luna, I will keep my vows.”

The words struck her with a physical force—he could see the actual moment when her mind registered his words by the pain in her eyes—and then she shuddered. There was a sudden inhalation, but her exhalation got caught in her throat, and she made a bleating sound. Her ears dropped, her tail tucked down between her legs while her wings went slack against her sides.

“No… no… no… no… no!”

Luna started to pull away, but Gosling kept his strong wing around her. She struggled for a moment, shaking her head from side to side, and then collapsed against him with a sob. To watch her suffering was unbearable, but for now, he was determined to allow her to squirm.

“No, not out of a sense of duty, please, anything but that. I need you as my friend! Please!”

“You treated me as a soldier and you withheld things from me that I should have known about. Is this how you treat your friends?” Right before Gosling’s eyes, he saw the evidence that his words drew blood. The pony he held winced and squeezed her eyes shut so hard that he could hear a faint, moist squish. “Tell me, Luna… you’ve been in my head. What’s my greatest fear?”

For a moment, he was certain that Luna would bolt, but he held fast.

“Gosling, please don’t—”

“Tell me!” The volume of his voice caused Luna’s ears to pin back and get tangled up in her messy mane.

“You have a worse than average fear of being lied to but that isn’t your greatest fear.”

“And knowing this, you lied to me—”

“That’s not true! Information was withheld, but that’s not lying!”

“Spoken like a Princess to her soldier.”

The floodgates of Luna’s face opened and tears, black and sooty from mascara, spilled down her cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to find out… you weren’t supposed to find out! Just a little longer and everything would have been fine! This is why ponies shouldn’t be curious! It causes no end of upsets!”

“No, Luna, what causes upsets is lying. Marrying somepony under false pretenses. I made vows to you, vows that I take seriously, vows that I might’ve reconsidered if I knew who and what you really are. I would have at least appreciated knowing the truth of what I was getting into. Knowing me, I probably would’ve still done it. If you would have been honest with me and told me the truth, I would have kept your secret and with that trust, we could’ve been closer.”

She drew in a deep breath, her mouth opened, and more tears flowed like a river, but no words seemed forthcoming.

“Not only did you lie to me, but you denied me the chance to earn your trust. I am nothing to you but a common rank and file soldier. That is the truth of things—you lied about where I stand in our marriage. You lied. We were supposed to have a marriage of equals, and you broke your vows to me. That in and of itself is a special kind of dishonesty. That lie, that breaking of our vows, that undoes everything else. To have and hold sacred? You did no such thing. When you stated those words, that was an absolute falsehood that came out of your mouth.”

“This is harsh of you, Gosling… it’s cruel—”

“Ah, but is it deserved?” he demanded and he squeezed Luna hard enough to force her eyes open. He watched as she hesitated and with each second that passed, a dreadful chill burrowed deeper into his heart. The fact that she delayed, the fact that she had to think about it, he found it insulting.

“It is entirely deserved.” Luna’s voice cracked halfway through and became shrill. “If there is any shred of affection left within you, please hold me for a while and allow me to compose myself… if not, then please… be the good soldier that I so desperately need.”

“—and that, that is the truth of things.” With a heavy heart, Celestia offered up another apology, but she feared that, like all the others, this would not assuage her guilt. “I really am sorry. Cadance, I was wrong to place you in this position. Twilight, you ended up dragged into this, and that’s my fault. Mistakes were made.”

Twilight, sitting on a high-backed paisley chair, continued gnawing upon her hoof in an absent-minded sort of way, her eyes were unfocused, and Celestia had a hard time getting a good read upon her current state of emotions. As for Cadance, Celestia was disturbed by Cadance’s lack of response. Not a word had been said. Flopped out on a chaise lounge, Cadance made no effort at formality and had her chin resting upon a cushion while she stared into the fire.

“Cadance?” Celestia drew out the word and the heaviness in her gut made it difficult to draw breath. Her own fears and doubts were gnawing away at her, and she had to trust that Luna would make things right somehow. If Luna failed, Gosling might very well leave—and that would cause no end of complications and upsets. “Cadance, can you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive—”

“Cadance?” Both Twilight and Celestia said together in unison.

“Are you emotionally compromised again, old lady?” Though Cadance’s words were kind, playful even, there was a hardness to them. “Do I have to take over again? Don’t you dare apologise for doing what is required of you. We both agreed that the best way forward was compartmentalised information in the event that one of us is compromised. You casting a geas on me was a smart thing to do. I can’t be upset with you for being responsible. But I am upset with you for backing down from our established policy. What’s come over you lately?”

“Cadance?” Twilight pulled her slobbery hoof away from her muzzle and cast a befuddled glance at Cadance.

“Twilight, I have a peculiar duality to me. I am both Cadance and Empress. You still don’t fully grasp this concept just yet, which is why you’re kept out of the loop. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it is. The fact that you are so confused right now about my response is why certain things are kept from you.”

For a moment, Celestia was terrified that a real fight might break out between her two former students, but then she heard Twilight say, “I understand. What you said upsets me, but it rings true. I have much to learn. I still have a hard time being both Twilight and Princess Twilight. I…” The littlest alicorn’s words trailed off and Celestia heard a wet slurp when her former student crammed her hoof back into her mouth to chew on.

“Twilight… Cadance might be a little miffed at her auntie for being duped… but Empress is taking notes so that she might be better at statecraft. If I let my own personal feelings get in the way right now, I’ll miss out on an opportunity to do better. Auntie and I have two separate relationships; a working relationship, and a private pony-to-pony relationship. This is where you suffer some of your worst shortcomings, Twilight, you allow your friendships to bleed over into your working relationships, and this is bad. Now ask yourself right now… are you mad at me for saying this? And if so, which half of me are you angry with?”

“So you are upset!” Celestia seized upon this revelation, but in doing so, missed the thoughtful expression upon Twilight’s face.

Cadance shrugged, which caused the chaise lounge to creak, but had nothing else to say.

There was a wet pop when Twilight pulled her hoof out, and she leaned forwards in her chair. “Right now, the Empress is using this situation to help me out and to try and teach me how to be a better princess. Cadance might be upset, and it seems that she is, but she is not allowing this to cloud her judgment. You… you are waiting to see how this works out… because… because you don’t wish to compromise the working relationship between you and Celestia, because there are bigger things at stake than just some little squabble. Right now, you are leading by example.”

“Twilight, nothing is accomplished by lashing out in anger—”

“Cadance! You’re angry! I knew it” Crossing her forelegs over her barrel, Celestia then wrapped herself up in her wings and began to fret.

“Of course I’m angry, Auntie. I’m peeved, and rightfully so. But there is no point in me taking you to task over this because you’ll do a fine job of that yourself and months of therapy sessions later, you’ll forgive yourself. I am not that upset about the geas… I’m more upset that you allowed Luna, who is compromised, to sway your decisions. That’s what I’m angry about. Luna… is—”

“Don’t say it!” Celestia winced in anticipation and covered her face with one wing, fearing that Cadance might look at her.

“Spoilt. You have to stop coddling your sister. This has to stop, or so help me, there will be an intervention. It’s awful enough that you have to keep cleaning up your sister’s messes, but now, I get dragged into it and I have better things I could be doing. Luna is a spoiled brat and it is all your fault!”

There was a choked gurgle when Twilight almost swallowed her hoof.

“Luna’s had a rough go at things—”

“And you make it harder for her still by shielding her from the consequences!” Cadance lifted her head from the cushion of the chaise lounge, sucked in some wind, and let fly more words. “This can’t continue! If this keeps happening, Luna is going to ruin something truly important, something beyond your marriage, which she’s just made a huge mess of! Are you going to let Equestria take a tumble for your sister’s sake? Are we all going to have to suffer through darkness again because you won’t grow a spine? Yes! You were a bad sister once! You were inattentive, you were cruel, and you bullied your sister into misery! You were awful! AWFUL! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR? YOU WERE THE SHITTIEST SISTER THAT HAS EVER LIVED! But right now, you aren’t doing Luna any favours with your overcompensation for your past mistakes! Let go! Let Luna stub her hoof, scrap her knees, and bust open her chin! She’s not getting better and that’s your fault.”

Gagging, Twilight yanked her hoof out and then squealed, “Cadance!”

“See, Twilight, that’s me being Cadance, and not the Empress. See what happens when you allow your personal feelings to bleed over into your working relationships? Don’t do what I just did, it’s wrong. It hurts and it isn’t productive, even if it is something that needs to be said. There are better ways of saying it.”

Slumping over on the sofa, Celestia collapsed in misery. A part of her wanted to be angry with Cadance, but a better, stronger part of her was proud of her former student. Most of what she felt was shame, with a little self-loathing and fear. Doubt and uncertainty joined the dreadful mix, and dark, dreadful thoughts crept into the recesses of her mind. How badly was Luna botching everything with Gosling? Was she a fool for trusting her to make things right? Would Luna make things worse? Luna was terrible at facing up to any sort of meaningful consequences—and Celestia knew that she had made everything worse.

“I apologised for the wrong thing—”

With a snide pricking of her ears, Cadance muttered, “Now she’s getting it.”

“—and it was wrong for me to apologise about the geas.” A log in the fireplace crackled, which was odd, because the log didn’t exist, and Celestia listened to the illusory sounds of the fire while thinking of Luna. “It was wrong of me to allow Luna to compromise my judgment. I have caused disharmony between us. For that, I am sorry.”

“Apology accepted and forgiveness offered in return.” Returning her head to the cushion of the chaise lounge, Cadance let heave a weary, troubled sigh. “You see, Twilight, all of us have a weakness. Celestia’s weakness is Luna. To be blunt, Luna is Equestria’s most dangerous threat, because Celestia is almost powerless against her little sister’s whims.”

“And what’s your weakness, Cadance? I mean, since we’re discussing this and raking one another over the coals, it seems.” Twilight, eager, leaned forwards in her chair and awaited a response.

“That, Twilight,” Cadance began, and she sighed once more before she continued, “is that I am a wife and a mother. If something were to hurt Shiny or Flurry, I would rain disproportionate response down upon their heads. For all of my talk about remaining cool, calm, and of being of a peculiar duality, both Cadance and the Empress are of one accord in regards to this one particular issue. I was soft and weak once. I focused too much on diplomacy and I was squeamish about conflict. Then the changeling invasion of Canterlot happened. I have since shed myself of my old weakness and replaced it with a new one.”

“So, if I wanted to knock the two of you out of power, I would first introduce stability into Luna, which would compromise Celestia’s judgment, and then I’d have to wreck my brother, perhaps by forcing him to choose between you and I, Cadance. Speaking solely as a matter of practical study, of course.”

“Very astute of you, Twilight.” Though somewhat disturbed, Celestia was proud of Twilight’s scholarly bloodthirstiness. “It would be a real shame if you had yet another library burn down around you.”

“Eep!” Covering her mouth with her soggy, sucked-on hoof, Twilight’s eyes darted around, going to and fro, and in a meek voice she replied, “I thought this was a time of learning. I wouldn’t… I would never… but the two of you right now… I just wanted… nevermind what I wanted, time to shut up now.” And with that, Twilight went silent.

“Twilight has fallen back upon being unassuming, timid, and shy.” Cadance’s voice had a very matter-of-fact tone. “Are you buying it, Auntie?”

“Not for a second.”

“Oh… horsefeathers!”

Rolling over onto her back while kicking her legs out in all directions, Celestia struggled to get comfortable and she worried about the two hot-headed adolescents she had left alone together. “Cadance, I’m terrified.”

“We once started a conversation with the words, ‘Cadance, I’m lonely.’ It led to great things, Auntie.”

“Cadance, I’m terrified that I can’t deal with my sister on my own. I know that I am already getting help for it, but now that Gosling knows…” Words failed Celestia and she lay on her back in an undignified pose, hating herself for not being able to finish the sentence.

“You want Gosling to be the on-call hardass? Look, you know the rules. I can’t help you until you ask for it.” Cadance’s ears drooped, she yawned, and then kicked out her hind legs into a sploot.

“Yes, Cadance. Let us do now what should have been done from the beginning. Gosling isn’t afraid to chew Luna out. He’s done so several times now. I mean, he’ll just lay right into her without a second thought, and it infuriates Luna. She’s demanded that I do something to make it stop… and… I haven’t. I was being passive-aggressive about the whole mess with the hopes that it would sort itself out. But Gosling needs to be brought in on the plan and assigned as the Luna-wrangler. I can’t be trusted.”

“Auntie, do you think Luna will actually listen? She’s awfully headstrong.”

“Cadance… I think… and I could be wrong… but I think that Luna adores him because he’s brave enough to stand up to her. Gosling has this policy of do no harm but take no shit. I think it will define him as a ruler, once he matures. If he sticks around, that is.”

There was a soft gasp from Twilight and under most circumstances, Celestia would have smiled, or thought about smiling. Little Twilight Sparkle was still far too worshipful and far too blinded by said worship for her own good, but it was fading with maturity. One day, Twilight wouldn’t be shocked or stunned by anything that Celestia did, and on that day, they would be equals.

Until that day…

Author's Note

Please, I need rest.

Chapter 48

Luna wept. It was an awful sound to witness, but the sight of her was even worse. She was vulnerable in the worst of ways, stripped bare of protective illusions, too-thin, gawky, there was nothing princessly left about her. She had almost gored him with her horn when she had pressed her face against his neck and Gosling was mindful of it even now, because the point was dangerously close to the soft, exposed underside of his jaw.

Having undergone what he could only describe as an emotional reset, Gosling had no idea what it was that he was feeling, only that he was feeling a great many things. One emotion eluded him though, and that was anger. The patience that his mother had pounded into his head prevailed, it had endured, it had won out, and now he found himself searching for reasons to make this work.

First and foremost, Luna was compromised and a variety of reasons existed. Perhaps the most important factor, she was ill—mentally ill—and sick ponies didn’t always have full control over their faculties. Gosling only knew of this viewpoint, this outlook due to his own time in intensive therapy. Luna might think that she was ‘grown up enough’ to be in control of her actions, but this just wasn’t true. He had married under false pretenses of a sort; not only was she of a vulnerable age, but the true depths of her mental illness had been hidden from him as well.

The faith of the First Tribes demanded mating for life, and that illness of any sort was no good reason to leave your mate. Mental illness was a sickness, Gosling believed that even if many ponies didn’t; he took a far more enlightened stance having suffered from a variety of issues himself. A sickness of the mind wasn’t something that just got better or could be dismissed by saying it was all in one’s head.

But Gosling’s faith had been smashed into tiny unrecognisable pieces. Everything that he had believed in, everything that had once given him strength and faith, it all felt so insubstantial now. The immaculate pedestal upon which his goddesses had been placed was now a ruin, a mess consisting of painful, jagged fragments that he had no desire to sort through, because he didn’t want his heart to bleed. How could faith exist in such a thorny, inaccessible place? This was awful enough, indomitable enough, that it felt like an insurmountable problem with no possible means to fix.

The sheer overwhelmingness of it all manifested as a sense of nausea and Gosling felt like puking. He couldn’t walk away, even if his faith was broken, his virtue remained—his mother had hammered into place a set of ironclad values—and even if virtue wasn’t a factor, leaving still wasn’t an option because…

This went beyond him.

Like a slap in the face, this realisation struck him and Gosling felt his knees wobble. This wasn’t about his future, no, this was about Luna’s future, and Luna’s future was Equestria’s future. Long after he was gone, long after he was little more than dust in some ancient tomb, Luna would exist, and with her, his memory would exist in some form. But which Luna? That was the important outcome here. A broken Luna now might mean a dreadful future, and he shivered from the very thought of it. The past had shown him what Luna could be when pushed into despair. Equestria’s history had been shaped by it.

Which meant that… Equestria’s future would be shaped by whatever he chose to do this day.

“Luna… you said that being lied to wasn’t my worst fear…” Sniffling a bit, Luna seemed to be pulling herself together for a response, so Gosling continued, but with much hesitation. “What is my worst fear, Luna? You know so much about me that I don’t even know about myself. If today wasn’t the sum of all of my worst fears, than what is? What could be worse than this?”

“Do you really want to know?” Luna’s voice was a vulnerable creak and pretty much every adolescent filly’s worst nightmare. It did not sound feminine, nor pretty, no, it was raspy, bubbly, and snotty with phlegm.

“Yes, Luna. I would like to know. Being able to compare the two might help me decide what I’ll do next.” Without thinking about it, Gosling gave her a comforting squeeze and then he stood there, waiting, wondering if she would be straightforward with him.

“Because you stayed with me, even though I didn’t deserve it, I’ll tell you. Normally, this is something I would make a pony face in dreams, but for you, I’ll bend the rules.” Luna drew in a deep breath and there was a great snorgling in her throat when she tried to clear her voice. It was a horrendous, disgusting sound, the sort of sound that no self-respecting filly would ever allow another mortal soul to hear.

Like a pegasus watching the rain, Gosling waited for the snot-storm to pass.

“Your greatest fear is losing your faith, Gosling, because you secretly believe that a pony cannot be good or moral without faith. Because you wear your goodness like a finely polished suit of armor, the idea that you might be left naked and exposed without your faith terrifies you. For you, immoral, corrupt ponies are those without faith—” Luna’s voice broke, she began to shudder, her words unfinished, and she let out a heart-rending keening wail.

The words were almost his undoing and Gosling wished that he hadn’t asked. Such was the cost of knowledge; sometimes, one learned something they didn’t want to know, something awful, something horrendous and profound. Sometimes, after learning it, there was no going back to one’s previous state of existence, there was no return to innocence, no stepping away from becoming enlightened.

This was one of those moments and the events of everything that had just happened pealed like hollow echoes in his mind. Of all of the things that had happened so far today, this was the worst. There would be no going back. No return. Whatever strength he had left fled from him, and Gosling felt something within his thoughts break, a tangible, perceptible sensation that left behind a profound sense of pain that was quite unlike anything else.

Of everything else that had broken this day, this hurt the worst.

“I have no faith in anything,” Luna bawled and her words bounced among the remains of the ruined library. “I am faithless! I’m immoral and corrupt and this is why none have faith in me! My sister believes and has faith in intrinsic goodness, but I believe in nothing! I have only seen the worst in life, Confessor, and it has hollowed me out! I see the worst in the dreams of ponies! Whatever evidence of good there might be is tainted by the knowledge of evil! I believe in nothing!”

“I have my own confession,” Gosling said, and was filled with dread by the words lurking on his tongue. “Today has broken my faith. I don’t know what I believe in anymore.” The calm austerity of his own words alarmed him, and he felt that there should have been far more emotion put into what he had said. One of Luna’s wings unfurled and he felt her feathers wrapping around his neck to cling to him.

She had to have realised what she had done, and that she was the cause. Gosling felt awful, but also rather relieved in some odd way. It felt good to confess, to say the truth, to bare his heart. Luna shrieked and very nearly ruptured his eardrums. Reeling, he clung to her, she clung to him, and Gosling wished that he knew what Luna was feeling so that he might know what to say. Luna had to know what he was feeling—she knew his mind and greatest fear, after all—but he had no such means to help her. He was a pegasus with broken faith and she—she was a broken goddess with no belief of her own.

“I feel terrible,” Celestia said to her two emotional companions. “I have let everypony down. The both of you, for starters. Twilight, there is so much I keep from you, but I feel that I have to. It bothers me to say that, but you are still learning, still making mistakes. It pains me that I have to withhold things and I wish—”

“A changeling posed as Moondancer right inside of my own castle,” Twilight blurted out and the firelight reflected cheery orange flames in her teary eyes. “Whatever it is you are about to say, don’t say it. When I get my own house in order, I’ll be more receptive to secrets. For now, it is best if you keep really important things from me. I have some hard lessons that need to be learned still.”

“Twilight, you’re growing into the princess that I had hoped for you to be.” Offering up a sad smile, Celestia knew that her words were cold comfort, but Twilight appeared to be basking in them anyway. Changing the subject, she glanced in Cadance’s direction, and saw that the pink alicorn was half-dozing on the chaise lounge. “I wonder how Gosling and Luna are doing.”

“You want to go butting in and rescue Luna, don’t you?” Cadance’s words were as slow and sleepy as she looked.

“No—”

“Don’t lie to me!” One eye opened while the other remained half-shut and all of the hair along Cadance’s spine stood up while a terrific growl could be heard deep in the base of her throat.

“Okay, I do.” Kicking out her hind legs, Celestia tried to get comfortable on a sofa meant for ponies, not giantesses. The wood creaked from her shifting bulk and the center of the sofa sagged, bowing beneath her weight.

“Luna needs to learn that her actions have consequences.” Cadance inhaled, licked her lips, and she began to rub her neck with one front hoof. “She is aware of consequences now, to some small degree, and how they affect her. If Luna is ever going to grow, she needs to understand how the consequences of her actions affect other ponies. Luna finally has something that she doesn’t want to lose, a toy that she can’t bear to have taken away from her. She will either come around and behave herself, or this particular toy will walk away, and none of her commands or sense of entitlement will do her any good. When I began grooming Gosling for you, Auntie, I also kept Luna in mind. It’s all part of the plan.”

“I need to step up my princess game.” Twilight too, scratched her neck while muttering to herself. “I pulled off a pretty good long play with Sumac Apple and Trixie Lulamoon, but right now I just feel inadequate. I gotta push harder and do more.”

“I don’t feel like a princess at all at the moment.” Celestia’s confession caused two sets of ears to prick. “I’ve failed as a princess, I’ve failed as a sister, I’ve failed as a wife, and I’ve done a pretty lousy job as a pony too. I’ve done pretty much all of the things that I would lecture others about, and I don’t feel good about that. Even worse, I’m not ready to accept the consequences. If Gosling walks away, or worse, if Luna drives him away, I’m probably going to fall to pieces.”

“How serious are you about this?” Cadance asked, and there was a disturbing hardness in her voice that contrasted far too much with her soft, pink, cotton candy body.

“I might unofficially step down, Cadance.” Celestia sighed, closed her eyes, and shifted her bulk once more, trying desperately to get comfortable. The ache in her back was almost as bad as the one in her heart. “You’ll be in charge of course… for a while. Keep Twilight under your wing. This will be an invaluable learning experience for her and I would be remiss if I failed to be a good teacher even as my life collapses. I don’t need anymore guilt.”

“Are we really preparing for the worst?” Rubbing her two front hooves together, one of which was wet and somewhat shriveled, Twilight began to shake her head from side to side.

“Yes, Twilight.” Now, a dreadful cramp trampled Celestia’s stomach and she wiggled in a vain attempt to be rid of it. Reaching down with one front hoof, she rubbed at her navel, hoping to rub the cramp away, but it was to no avail. Flailing her body around, she tried to get comfortable—the spiky pains in her spine were awful—and this proved to be too much for the sofa.

With a splintery crackle of sundered wood, the sofa surrendered all of its structural integrity to Celestia’s celestial mass. Celestia fell almost a foot-and-a-half to the floor, and the cushions of the sofa did nothing to lessen her impact. The stone tiles shattered too, collapsing into hundreds of jagged fragments, some of which tore into the flattened sofa cushion.

“Baiseur de la mère!” Celestia shouted, and her voice thundered through the small, private parlour. Now on the floor, she lay among the ruins of crushed sofa and broken floor tiles, looking quite annoyed, or maybe cross, or maybe even peeved.

Whatever it was that Celestia was feeling, it proved to be too much for poor Twilight, who had covered her mouth with both hooves and was staring in abstract horror at her fallen teacher. Twilight’s ears twitched, but whatever understanding she might have of the words uttered by the fallen giantess, it remained to be seen.

“Pourquoi cela continue-t-il à se produire?” Cadance replied while rolling her eyes. “Sacrébleu!” Rousing herself from her comfortable position of repose, the Princess of Love moved to rescue her fallen aunt.

Celestia, on the floor and considering well her current predicament, was thankful to have a rescuer.

Author's Note

At least it wasn't a cliffhanger.

Chapter 49

Gosling knew the power of communication. He was a pony from the Signal Corps, and was now in intelligence with the rank of Lantern Specialist. The need, the ability, the desire to communicate had been pounded into his head as part of his training. When communications broke down, conflicts established themselves or wars started. Silence was the ultimate undesirable outcome, and he thought about that now while he held Luna. When everything else had failed or fallen apart, he fell back on his training.

He had never had perfect faith to begin with and there was a lot of trouble remembering all of the dates for all of the holidays. Being shunned, he realised, there was a problem with the outreach of his faith, the connection to the community, but his belief held sound. It was just the way his mother had raised him. Fearful of the looming silence, Gosling thought of the terrifying train ride to Ponyville while transporting Celestia’s beloved sorcerer. He had prayed then, and something profound had happened. Through the power of faith alone, something had happened and they all had felt it.

How could that depart from him?

“Tell me,” he whispered, somehow finding some words to say, though he could not be sure if they were the right ones. “What is it like to die and be reborn?”

Blinking, Luna lifted her head and seemed startled. Though she shuddered, the hard sobbing ceased and her ears flapped around with endearing confusion. The Night Princess hiccupped and with the sudden sound she transformed, taking on the aspect of a bewildered foal. Having departed from her, no outward trace of maturity could be found, and somehow, she seemed much, much younger than she was.

“When you die and spontaneously reincarnate, how old are you? Does it hurt? Do you remember dying? Help me to understand you, Luna. Has facing death so many times damaged your mind in some fashion, do you think?”

“The pain can be very sudden but it is over very quick,” Luna blurted out while she stood in Gosling’s embrace, bewildered and confused. “I don’t know how old I am when I return… there is some variation with each renewal, but I am always at an age when I can talk, use magic, and care for myself, though small. I would guess a year or two beyond a yearling, give or take a few years.”

“I wonder what point there is to returning at such an age?” Gosling asked aloud.

“Celestia believes it aids in our development. We return at that stage of foal development when rapid learning takes place. This allows us to take in information rapidly, learn new languages, absorb new magic, all those things that foals miraculously seem to do when they hit the ‘why phase.’ I am inclined to agree with her. We have benefited from our many foalhoods.”

Musing on this, Gosling took away an unintended piece of information from this, something that confirmed his own beliefs: Celestia was the big thinker, Luna was the doer. If Luna was the thinker, she might have arrived at this conclusion on her own, but relied instead upon her sister’s ruminations. Sun and Moon, thinker and doer.

It also helped to explain how Luna had caught up on one-thousand years of missing history, because she had no doubt been schooled almost to death. It might explain why she had gone missing from the public for a time, for purely practical reasons. Luna was almost panting now, but no longer sobbing. He wasn’t sure what getting her to talk had accomplished, but it was better than silence.

“Gosling, I cannot bear the idea that I might have cost you your faith because of my vanity.” Ears pinning back, Luna leaned up against Gosling to the point where all of her weight rested against him, and then she went still. “Surely you must have something left to believe in?”

“Tell me about Bronze Blaze—”

“Why, Gosling?” Taken aback, Luna now looked panicked and she pleaded with him using her eyes.

“What was he to you? I want to know so that I might know what I am to you.”

“Gosling, the answers will be very damning—”

“Nevertheless, I want them. What damnation awaits me?”

Whimpering, Luna bit down upon her bottom lip with a savage chomp and then squirmed while fresh tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “Bronze Blaze was sturdy and he was an enthusiastic breeder. While I held some degree of affection for him, we mostly had a physical relationship. He went about his business during the day and I ruled the night. Sometimes, I would pay him a visit as the sun was setting and catch him before he went to sleep. I was very selfish and I demanded so much of him. While I liked earth ponies for breeding, I prefered the company and conversation of the pegasus ponies, and that always bothered Bronze Blaze… that we had so little to talk about. I didn’t keep him around to talk to him, he was there to sire foals.”

“What of love?” Gosling asked.

Shaking her head, the raspy sounds of Luna’s breathing was all that could be heard for a time, and then with a timid voice she replied, “Things were different back then, Gosling. Love existed, but it was a luxury for the privileged few. Marriage, breeding, it was done for practical purposes. Celestia and I would tell ponies who they should breed with so that strong, viable bloodlines were created. They obeyed. It was a matter of survival. Bronze Blaze was of exceptional strength and a desirable type of intelligence, traits that were most advantageous, and Celestia bred him with dozens of mares, while using her magic to help them conceive. It was a duty like any other.”

“She made him sire foals with other mares?” Incredulous, Gosling’s scalp tightened while his ears stood straight. He thought of the tickets that had been sold that granted access to a dance with him.

“Sometimes, when funds or political favours were necessary, Celestia would bring our husband to a noble house and allow breeding rights. Gosling, please… you cannot judge the past by the standards of today. I am trying to be open with you, but this is very painful for me. I understand how this must sound.”

Overcome by his own curiousity, the very thing that had caused him to stumble into this whole mess, Gosling wanted answers and he knew that he had Luna right where he wanted her, because she was in no position to refuse him. Care and concern tempered his curiousity, but he still wanted answers—and would have them.

“What am I to you, Luna?”

“Gosling—”

Reaching out with his wing, he pressed his primaries against Luna’s lips, silencing her. “Answer carefully.”

Silence returned to the devastated library and Gosling, still holding Luna with one wing, pulled the primaries of the other away from her lips. Had he saved her from speaking too soon, or had he given her time to think of something convincing to say that might sway him? For now, all he could do was trust that her intentions were good.

“I’m here with you right now, trying to sort this out.” Blinking once, Luna turned her head away and stared down at the floor while her lower lip trembled. “I never meant to break our vows. I meant those. Gosling, I was looking forwards to having you as a husband… I just needed a little bit more time until I was ready. I was so busy thinking about myself… that I didn’t stop to think about you. It seemed like such a short time for me… and I had myself convinced that everything would work out. Gosling, please… please, you have to believe in my desire to do better and make this right somehow.”

To believe Luna now, in the aftermath of all this trouble while standing in the ruined library, such a thing would be a tremendous act of faith. Gosling stood with his wing still over Luna’s back and around her neck, and he struggled to determine if Luna was being sincere. Was she doing this for her sister’s happiness? For her own? For his happiness? There was no way to know, no way to tell, and if he believed her—if he chose to take her words at face value—it would most certainly be an act of faith.

“Gosling… your touch is almost unbearable right now… I am curiously and terrifyingly aroused—”

“Are you trying to seduce me now? Is that how you plan to keep me?” Gosling waited, holding back his emotions before he reacted, wondering what Luna was up to.

Luna responded with a nasal squeal, saying, “No! No! Gosling… I’m scared right now! Surely you can smell my muskiness and I keep having these thoughts, these thoughts about you having your way with me. If you did, I would not refuse you, because I want to keep you, and that scares me, because I wouldn’t tell you no. I’m having crazy thoughts right now! All of this is getting to me! You keep touching me and rubbing up against me and it is making me feel things! My fear of losing you is stronger than my fear of being taken advantage of!” When the last word was blurted out, Luna began crying again and this time, she hid her face behind one of her wings.

Crazy thoughts, Gosling thought to himself. This was his future, because Luna would continue to have crazy thoughts. She would progress from melancholy to mania, waxing and waning like the moon itself. Was he strong enough? He thought once more of faith, taking Luna’s word was a tremendous leap of faith, because she had crazy thoughts. When, for the first time, he worried that he might not have the mental fortitude required to fulfil his duties, he felt another tearing sensation in his heart—something that had happened so many times already that he had lost count.

Gosling had testicular fortitude—a fact that he took immense pride in—but he had some serious doubts manifesting about his future. He had participated in combat a number of times, he had gleefully and recklessly thrown himself into the chaotic fracas that was the harpy invasion of Ponyville. Disobeying orders, he had lead the charge—and the guards that had followed him had suffered immense casualties. Gosling fought on the front lines though, and had refused to hide behind his own troops.

What he faced now scared him far more than charging into a flock of harpies.

“I take back what I said, Gosling… about not having faith.” Luna’s voice cracked halfway through her sentence and she peered out from behind her wing, cautious. “I was wrong. I do have faith, I just couldn’t see it until just a moment ago. I have faith in your commitment to duty.”

Using his own wing, Gosling pushed Luna’s wing away from her face. “I don’t follow.”

“You saved me from the darkness elemental. You somehow pushed your way through a living nightmare and you talked a darkness elemental to death. Even now, I don’t understand how you did it, but it gives me something to believe in.” Luna shivered and when her mood shifted once more, she pressed up against Gosling once more.

He considered these words, but had no idea how to feel about them and Gosling felt his thoughts dividing, distracting him. Was Luna having crazy thoughts again, or did she really mean this? Did he dare ask? What consequences might his questions have? Would his callous queries or insensitive inquiries rip apart whatever fragile bloom that was Luna’s newfound faith? Having felt his own faith shatter, he couldn’t risk doing that to another.

Why?

What belief did he possess?

Perhaps he was wrong. What drove him to be a better pony? Something had inspired him. What motivated him for greatness? How had he rescued Luna? Could he save her now? Surely something had given him the strength to go on in that dark house of horror. What gave a pony greatness? The answer had always been faith—but now?

Gosling arrived in an odd place, a sort of limbo that existed beyond his understanding, and he found it terrifying. His mother had warned him about questioning faith, because faith was like a knitted sweater; if one picked at it too much, it would unravel and be a sweater no more. All the hard work to make it what it was, a sweater, would be gone, and you’d be left with string. And what good was string?

“Does having this faith in my sense of duty make you feel better?” Gosling asked while he floundered, hoping against hope that he could find his own way out of his own mire of doubt. It almost felt like he had flown for some great distance, that he had flown past the point of reasonable exhaustion, and now, he approached some unknown destination that he was ill-prepared for.

For her part, Luna seemed quite surprised by the question; yes, she was thrown off guard and Gosling could see it by how she reacted. She withdrew, blinking, her ears rising and falling, and her lips pressed into a tight pucker of concentration—that, even in his current state of mind he could not help but think about kissing. What did that say about him, he wondered?

Moving about in some great animated way, Luna shuffled on her hooves, wiped her nose with her wing, and her almost-luminous eyes became unfocused while lost in her continuous cogitation. Gosling found her beautiful, even now, even with her acne, with her chapped lips, her face left soggy, sodden, and stained by tears, and her bloodshot eyes. Luna, lost in thought, failed to notice when Gosling closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth.

At his touch, Luna shrieked and then had something of a screamy-filly moment while Gosling pulled back, apologetic. He had no idea what had come over him and he thought about Luna’s terrifying, crazy thoughts about him taking her right here on the spot. Luna’s voice was like some great force channeled through an organ pipe, more musical note than terrified utterance.

Yanking his head away, Gosling did everything he could to look harmless.

Something almost like anger flashed in Luna’s eyes and she hissed out the words, “Terrified arousal is the worst!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Unsure of what good his words were, Gosling saw that Luna was jittery now and her hind legs shuffled from side to side while also squeezing together. Relaxing his hold on her with his wing, but only just a little, he waited for an answer to his question.

Eyes narrowing to a half-open state, Luna’s emotions ran their course, going from terrified, angry-whatever to something that appeared to be reluctant acceptance, followed by a softening of her features. “My faith in your sense of duty is the only way I have of knowing that your intentions are good right now. But for a second there, I had crazy thoughts, Gosling… crazy thoughts!”

Luna had crazy thoughts, but Gosling had crazy questions. Why was he a good pony? Right now, he could most certainly take advantage of Luna and she would let him. He could dominate her, he could have the satisfaction of conquest, and like she had said, she would not refuse him, she couldn’t refuse him because she wanted him to stay. Right now, he could establish himself as the dominant partner in this relationship—he could exploit her weakness and vulnerability.

So why didn’t he?

Where did morality come from, if not faith?

The empty ache inside offered no answers and Gosling was left wondering, what made him good? Why didn’t he just dominate Luna? She would cry, she would blubber, she would sob and shriek beneath him while he had his way with her, and no doubt, it would be satisfying. For the rest of his life, he would be able to lord himself over Luna, having established that he was the stronger of the two, and she would do nothing for fear of her sister’s loss. In public, he would be the devoted, loving husband, but in the bedroom, he would be a brutal, dominating tyrant.

But Luna would not be happy—and happiness meant something to Gosling. What it meant was unknown, but Luna’s happiness was more important than his own, which meant that his fantasies for revenge and power meant nothing—were nothing—because without happiness, there was no point. Without happiness, there was no point to anything… not even faith.

He could be just awful and Luna would bear this, knowing it would pass, knowing it was temporary, and that one day, he would be no more. She would do it for her sister’s sake, she would hide it for her sister’s sake, and no doubt, Luna’s self-flagellating nature would secretly relish such torment behind closed doors. There might even be a sort of happiness—but not a good happiness.

“Gosling… dearest, there is something up with your mark—”

Scarcely hearing Luna’s words, Gosling was lost in thought. He was lost in questions of what was good, what was moral, and what was faith. Luna had faith in his sense of duty, and that sense of duty and the faith she had in it, it held back the worst parts of himself that Gosling held within, the parts of himself that he refused to even acknowledge that they existed…

But surely Luna knew of them.

Luna had to know.

Surely, Luna had seen.

Without a doubt, Luna had seen the awful dreams he had about Skyfire Flash, and all of the dreadful ways he longed to punish her. All of the ways he wanted to hurt her, to dominate her, to break her will. To strip away all of her free will and sense of free agency for what she had done to him. Gosling lived with such awful things hidden away inside of him, and it was his faith that kept him turned away from his darker nature.

And Luna had to know. Right now, at this very moment, Luna had to know, and here she was, alone with him, facing him after having lied to him, she had to know what dreadful monsters lurked within his psyche, what real danger she faced by remaining with him, alone, with no sister to guard her in this now-ruined library.

“—it’s glowing.”

“What?” Snapped from his reverie, a bewildered Gosling tried to make sense of things while shame and uncertainty clouded his mind.

“Gosling, your ducks… they have a curious glow about them.”

Whipping his head around, Gosling saw the light emanating from his hindquarters, but had no words. His rubber ducks—both of them—were illuminated with a brilliant, golden-yellow light. What did it mean? Why was this happening? Why was this happening now? What purpose did this serve and what was the point? Was this a message?

“Gosling, you have achieved a state of enlightenment—”

“But how?” he snapped, annoyed and now angry. “All I have are questions! I have no answers! I don’t understand myself at the moment and nothing makes sense!”

Clearing her throat, Luna tried again, this time in a softer, more gentle voice. “You have achieved a state of enlightenment. You have become the sort of pony that your cutie mark wishes you to be. During a moment of great growth, or upon reaching some profound state of understanding, a cutie mark can glow. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does happen, it is a treasured, precious thing.”

“But… but… but…”—Gosling sputtered and battled to form a coherent sentence—“I don’t understand anything! I’ve only reached a place where I have nothing but questions! I’ve never been more uncertain in my life than I am right now! What meaning could this possibly have?”

Luna’s words—spoken but a short time ago—now echoed in his mind like overzealous alarm bells, drowning out all other thoughts with their sheer mental volume. I see the worst in the dreams of ponies! Whatever evidence of good there might be is tainted by the knowledge of evil! I believe in nothing! When Gosling thought of how this applied to him, his mouth went dry and he struggled in vain to make the pieces fit. Whatever good that Luna saw in him was corrupted by the darkness he held within—but she had trusted herself with him—she had her moment of faith and had to believe in something in spite of evidence to the contrary.

The light grew blinding and Gosling squinted while a crick settled into his neck from turning around to look at his own backside. Just when he didn’t think he could look any longer, the light subsided and his pair of rubber ducks no longer rivaled the sun for brilliance. What was the meaning? What was the point? What had just happened?

Though he was filled with more questions than answers, though everything was uncertain and unsettled, though nothing made sense, Gosling had an overwhelming compulsion to act, not as Gosling the pony, or Gosling of the Royal Guard, but as Confessor. A great mystery filled his being, flooded his mind, and indiscernible emotions filled his heart.

Whipping his head about, he gripped Luna with his wing, pulled her close, and looked her in the eye. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove worthy of your faith in me, Luna. Such a faith is to be acknowledged and rewarded. For in spite of all you’ve seen, all you’ve witnessed, for knowing all of my dark secrets, you chose to believe in me. It was a courageous act, Luna, and I will spend the rest of my life tending to the tiny, helpless flame that is your faith.”

“Thank you… Confessor…”

Author's Note

There is still a lot to be sorted out. Some of which will be left up to the reader. Good luck, I hope you were paying attention. All of the puzzle pieces have been left for you.

Chapter 50

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Luna, overcome with either exhaustion, emotion, or perhaps both, had shrouded herself in falsehood once more and then had made a hurried departure after leaving a kiss on Gosling’s cheek. Gosling too, was exhausted after the emotional confrontation, but knew that there would be no rest, no solace; he was far too unsettled to know any sort of peace at the moment.

He felt far too enervated, too fatigued to even find answers, but still had a pressing need to talk, a deep desire to converse, but not with Celestia. No, for now, he chose to avoid her, but knew that he would have to face her soon enough, and that would be an exercise in endurance because that needed to be sorted out. To do that though, to deal with all of the things that needed to be said, and to do so after his time with Luna—the very thought of it was almost too much to bear. This was the trouble with having not one, but two wives; he had a responsibility to both and could not favour one over the other, not without trouble. To be successful in this marriage would mean developing stamina, the emotional kind. Though she did a better job of hiding it, Celestia was no less emotional than Luna and she would need reassurance.

Gosling told himself that he wasn’t avoiding Celestia, no, he was preparing.

Raising his hoof, Gosling knocked on Seville’s door. According to the guard, Seville had returned to his apartment after the morning reports had been cancelled—for whatever reason they had been cancelled. Today was certainly shaping up to be one of crisis. Everything about today was just wrong and Gosling was almost certain that his earth pony friend would reveal that he was secretly a changeling.

A moment later, Seville opened the door and Gosling saw that his friend was wearing a smoking jacket of all things. It was silly, ridiculous even, but Gosling had nothing left within him to laugh with. Soft music floated out into the hallway, old music, music from a bygone era, music from before the time when his mother had been a filly. Something soft, but lively, something that was from the classy golden era of Manehattan when the streets had been lined with jazz joints and hep cats. It sounded a bit like slowed-down swing, but also sensual, and maybe sexual.

“Ugh, there’s an ugly guy at my door,” Seville muttered. “You’d think the security ‘round here would do something about the bums. Get outta here, ya panhandler!”

“You gotta moment?” Gosling asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Seville gave a nod. “I was working, but some ugly mug shows up at my door. Come in.”

Before Gosling could reply, Seville grabbed him by his leg and yanked him inside.

Seville Orange’s apartment was almost a time capsule, an homage to a fading Equestrian era that may or may not have existed. Oh, it might have existed in the mind, in cheap, pulpy serial novels, on the silver screen, and there could be no doubt that some ponies held a fervent belief that kept the flame alive. Reporters were seen as romantic heroes, the guardians of public opinion, private dicks that could be depended on to find the truth, always there to support a noble cause, and classy dames appreciated a fella with a little gravel in his voice. Truth, Justice, and the Equestrian Way.

Framed movie posters from decades ago lined the walls, populated by movie stars who had long since passed their prime. The stink of ink and botanical citrusy gin left a heady signature in the air. Cameras—antique ones that belonged in a museum—were scattered about on every available surface. For Gosling, it was always disorienting to enter Seville’s apartment, because it was like being flung back in time.

Thousands of books lined the walls, ranging from every subject one could think of, but most of them were cheap, pulpy novels and anthologies from journalists long since departed. Hearing a clunk, Gosling turned around and watched as Seville poured gin into a tall glass filled with ice. Then, when he was finished, Seville refilled his own tall glass. Something about the smell was comforting to Gosling and when he crossed the room to claim his glass, he managed a half-smile of appreciation.

“Whatareya workin’ on?” Gosling asked while he held his cold drink in his primaries.

“Cleaning up an old scoop so I can do it justice,” Seville replied while he shuffled off to his chair on three legs, holding his glass of gin in his fourth. “Because of you and your ugly mug, I get to live a dream. Of course, it also means I gotta get on trains with you, but hey, that’s the cost of the job.”

Gosling too, sat down, and settled into the comfortable high-backed chair where he had sat so many times before. As disorienting as this place might be, it was a refuge of sorts. Here, he was no prince, just a wiseguy from the Broncs. The first sip of gin made Gosling’s eyes water and the following burn bloomed with the taste of bitter oranges. It was breathtaking and he shuddered while trying to fill his lungs with air.

“My dream is going great,” Seville said while he leaned back in his chair. “Something tells me that your dream is currently a nightmare. You look like shit, Goose.”

“I feel like it too,” Gosling wheezed as the gin burned away a little bit of his colthood in a fiery conflagration that left his throat ablaze like some runaway tenement inferno. Seville liked his alcohol aggressive and a struggle to drink; Gosling, less so.

A curious thought passed through Gosling’s mind of the times that he and Luna had shared a drink together. Should he feel troubled? Was he judging her by modern standards again? After a moment, after another sip of gin, he decided that he was and let it go. A few sips in and he was already feeling lightheaded. There was no telling how many glasses Seville might have already consumed.

“So, what’s your story?” Gosling turned his head to look at his friend and couldn’t get over how silly Seville looked in a smoking jacket. “What’s the scoop?”

“A story about love and forgiveness. The sorta sappy, syrupy stuff that makes the world go around.” While Seville spoke, the horn section stepped up their game and began to blow double time, a crescendo that existed as an echo from the past. “A story about a single father and his struggle to raise his daughter. Reminds me a bit of you and your mother, Goose. Lotsa sacrifice and suffering. I couldn’t sell that damn story to save my life and was told to get the fronk out from so many press offices. If it was some sob story of some dame on the skids with a few hungry mouths to feed, I probably coulda jump started my career, but no. Nopony gives two shits and a princess’ skidmarking fart for the plight of single fathers.”

Unsure of how to respond, Gosling nodded and took another sip of gin.

“You know, Goose… you were raised by a single dame on the skids—”

“We were never homeless,” Gosling interjected while raising his glass in Seville’s direction.

“Yeah, but the sentiment’s the same, Goose. You were raised by a single mom who had to give up everything in her own life to see that you were raised right. You oughta help me bring some attention to this fight. Now that I am where I am, I aim to pick a fight and cause a few bloody noses. Up for a brawl?”

Lifting his glass, Gosling poured some liquid courage down his throat, gave some thought to his friend’s words, and while the elixir of truth set his insides ablaze, he nodded. “Yeah, sure, for you, anything. Let’s pick a fight, Seville. This gin, it ain’t bad once it burns away your taste buds—”

“Hey, my family makes this gin!”

“Then your family should be arrested.”

When Seville began snickering, Gosling relaxed a little and listened to the music playing. The next song had started and some guy was crooning about some sweet little chickadee. More gin was had, a big gulp this time, too big of gulp, and Gosling shuddered once more while he fought to draw breath. Everything was oranges; his airway, his sinuses, everything. The bitter, pungent twang of oranges had taken over all of existence. Gasping, it felt as though the sloughed off remains of Gosling’s throat were sliding down his gullet.

“Hey, go easy on that stuff, prettyboy, it’s a hundred and fifty-two proof. This is a sippin’ gin, not a guzzlin’ gin.”

“Seville… how… how do you handle the truth? I mean, when it comes right up and hits you in the face. The hard truth. You know, the kind that nopony wanna know. The mean truth. Mean like this wastewater gin your family makes.” Gosling felt a moment of alarm when he realised that he couldn’t feel his lips, nor his teeth, or most of his tongue for that matter. No doubt, they had packed their bags and left. What he could feel was oranges, his lips had turned into dry, bitter orange peels and his teeth were like oversized hard-edged pips.

“Are you about to tell me something that’s gonna get us both in trouble?” Seville eyeballed Gosling while holding his glass of gin in his fetlock. “Look, I already got squeezed by Celestia once and she threatened to stick my oranges in a press if I ever betrayed her trust. Don’t tell me things that might wreck this good thing I got going. Goose, I have a pretty good life right now, and I’m all for finding the truth, but even I understand that some things are best kept under wraps. Don’t mess this up for us, Goose.”

A leaden heaviness overtook Gosling and he thought a great deal about truth while a swinging tune acted as a soundtrack to this tumultuous moment in his life. Every breath tasted of oranges and the bitterness permeated into the very center of his being. No, he wouldn’t betray Luna’s secret, but he resented her and her sister just a little bit for leaving him stuck with an unwanted truth.

Distracted, he allowed his eyes to travel the walls, to roam over the bookshelves, the movie posters, and the framed newspaper clippings. Seville Orange was a pony displaced by time, a curious quirk, an oddity. Gosling’s eyes came to rest upon the model of an old Manehattan streetcar trolley, and he drank in the details of the bright white and valiant blue machine from a golden age now mostly forgotten, a helpless victim slain by endless budget cuts. Seville had to be a time traveller to have an appreciation for such a mechanical anachronism.

“Seville… the Confessor did a very brave thing today.” Another sip was had and Gosling wondered if his vocal cords might be transmuted into leather strings. “The Confessor faced his greatest fear but he’s still pretty unsure of what else he’s accomplished. At the start of it all, he thought he had a pretty good grasp of the situation, but at the end of it all, he doubted everything he knew and decided that not much was certain. Now, he is transforming into an orange.”

“Welcome to the family tree, Goose. Long may your oranges hang and bask in the glory of the sun.”

For some reason, this was far, far funnier than it should have been, and Gosling found himself laughing. Laughter tasted like bitter oranges, as it turned out. But laughter was tragic for reasons unknown and Gosling’s face now had a curious wetness to it. He could feel his juices leaking and the liquid pouring from the corners of his eyes had a certain oranginess to it that stung.

“Who does the Confessor confess to? I… I have nopony to go to, Seville. Where does the Confessor confess? The same pony that I might turn to for help is also one of the ponies who manages me. Manages me? She keeps me on track. Worst part is, I still trust her, but she kept something from me and it really is sinking in that I am a pretty bird in a gilded cage. I love that pink pony”—here, Gosling began to sniffle—“she’s like my sister… really, she is, but she’s a naughty sister that keeps awful secrets and how do I pour my heart out to somepony who keeps awful secrets from me? I feel like I’m in so much trouble now but I don’t know who to go to. I can’t even tell my mom, or my brother who’s given me this awful gin.”

Lifting his glass, Gosling emptied it in one reckless gulp that he was almost certain would kill him. No air could reach his lungs and bright starbursts filled his vision. A torrential flood ran down his face, pouring from his eyes, while a citrusy fiery fury hollowed him out from within. Thunderous drums pounded in Gosling’s ears, discordant and out of time with the music coming from the hi-fi. When he could draw breath again, his lungs ignited and each drawn breath was a special sort of torture.

Somehow, Gosling had the presence of mind to put down his glass on the table beside him, but it came down hard, with a solid clunk, and then he belched, roaring orange thunder from his maw. Citrus-scented wind seared his nostrils and millions of meaningful thoughts swirled around inside of his mind as his consciousness continued the emergency shutdown procedures.

“Give my body to the sun, so that it might be burned,” Gosling gasped, choking out the words just as reality punted him from existence. Before the darkness consumed him, he had one final thing to say: “Ex Ignis Amicitiae…”

Alarmed, Celestia looked up from the guard bearing the news and glanced in the direction of the approaching yellow-orange earth pony. From behind her and to her left, she heard a gasp from Twilight. As for Cadance, Celestia could almost hear Cadance rolling her eyes. It was just that sort of day. When Seville drew closer, Celestia could see two things; he was wearing a smoking jacket, and he was angry. Behind him trailed a unicorn guard bearing the body of one comatose pretty pegasus.

“I have something to say to you,” Seville said, his words clipped and terse, his accent strong.

Worried for Gosling, Celestia waited with her heart in her throat.

“You gotta be more careful with your playthings.” Seville halted, drew himself up to his full height, and glared upwards at Celestia with an unrepentant, unwavering stare. “Look, I don’t know what happened, and I’m not sure I wanna know, but I know a broken heart when I see one. So Goose comes to my door with a broken heart and he’s going on talking in some round about way about some secret—which he didn’t tell me—and he starts talking about himself in the third person, going on about the Confessor this and the Confessor that, and he goes on about how Cadance is a rotten sister for keeping secrets from him.” To punctuate his words, the yellow-orange earth pony stomped his hoof, utterly fearless of the much larger alicorn that loomed over him.

“Seville, I’m sorry…” At a loss for words, Celestia was unsure of what else there was that could be said.

“I’m sorry too… but princess, I gotta say… if Goose ever comes to my door with a broken heart ever again… I’m gonna let Equestria know about it. Don’t mess with my friend. He’s loyal to you, totally and completely, and right now, I’m not sure you even deserve it. Whatever went on… and I have no idea what happened, Goose deserves to be treated better. Now clean up your mess and don’t make me shame you into doing the right thing, because we both know I will. Just try me, princess.”

In shock, all Celestia could do was stand there, blinking down at the little earth pony who reeked of citrusy gin. She noted his red eyes, his pricked ears, stiff legs, and rigid spine. In Seville, she saw another Raven, a pony bold enough to hold her accountable for her actions. In that moment, she adored Seville, and was grateful that Gosling had him as a friend.

“Mistakes were made,” Celestia admitted, feeling that she owed Seville some small measure of the truth. “Very serious mistakes were made and Gosling was caught in the middle of them. Once things have calmed down a bit, certain secrets will be made known to you, Seville, so that Gosling can have somepony to go to in times of trouble. Thank you for being a good and loyal friend.”

“Your husband is a featherweight, but even after a glass of liquid truth, he did not betray you. Even with all of his anger and hurt.” Seville kept his starchy gaze upwards and his tail flicked in a manner that was almost impertinent. “He deserves better from you. All of you. See that he gets it… or else.” With that, Seville turned around, flicked his tail in a final parting gesture, and stormed off.

Celestia could hear him muttering to himself as he departed.

“Well that was rather—”

“Shut up, Cadance!”

“Auntie?”

“Princess lessons, Cadance, my faithful student. The most valuable and the most important subject any princess can have is one who is fearless enough to deliver a good dressing down when it is necessary. Should you ever find one, you treasure them and keep them close to you. They will keep you honest and guarantee effective rule. Raven, and now Seville, are the most valuable assets that I have. You would be wise to heed my words, my most faithful student.”

“Of course, Auntie. I will think upon what you have said.”

Twilight, who shuffled forwards, appeared in the corner of Celestia’s vision. “This is why I keep Trixie around. She’ll fight me. She’s also super-annoying and I know that if I screw up, she’ll be letting me hear about for a long time. What a pest!”

Though Twilight had said something meaningful and important, Celestia made no reply. Instead, she lifted Gosling, taking him from the unicorn guard, and made the mistake of getting a little too close to his face. He reeked. A foul, eye-watering miasma assaulted her, threatening to peel off her eyelids. How much gin had her husband imbibed? Too much, by the looks and the smell of it.

When Gosling belched and released a fresh cloud of fumes, she almost dropped him.

“I had things that needed to be done today, but nothing is being accomplished.” Celestia let out a defeated sigh and then shook her head. “The nation is in crisis but I can do nothing because I failed to keep my own house in order. I am sorely out of practice. Twilight, you’re in charge for the rest of the day. Find Raven and absorb my schedule. As for myself, I’m going to take my husband to bed, and then I plan to sit with him so I’ll be there to nurse him through what is certain to be the worst hangover in his life. I do not wish to be disturbed. For any reason.”

“I’m in charge!” Twilight cried, her voice shrill, and she began to pronk around with reckless abandon. “Ooooh, I’ll get Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash to help me. I can’t wait to get this castle sorted out and in order!”

Before Celestia could say anything, Twilight was gone, just gone, vanishing mid-pronk.

“Yes, Auntie… today, mistakes were made. No doubt, Twilight is going to re-organise your schedule for maximum efficiency. Go on, go look after your husband. I’ll bring by some hangover cures and leave them outside your door so you won’t be disturbed.”

“Thank you, Cadance.” Saying nothing else, Celestia too, departed.

Author's Note

Sunshine is awful when you have a hangover.

Chapter 51

An end had been reached, but how so and why? This felt like an end—at least, Celestia thought it felt like an end. Her life had been a sequence of ends, of endings, of final moments, of finishes. This was more than the mere ending of a honeymoon; that had ended some time ago. Stumped, she tried to view this through a mortal perspective and found that she couldn’t, she was just too far removed.

Turning her whole body about, she looked at Gosling and pursed her lips together in a moue of concentration. She had laid him on his side, for safety, and his breathing—which she was relieved to hear—was slow but regular. Somehow, he had managed to make the whole room reek of orange-scented gin. Seeing him, seeing his condition, Celestia was frustrated with the entirety of the situation.

Most ponies, this whole mess of secrets could have been kept from, but Gosling was not most ponies. No. If anything, this was Cadance’s fault for finding somepony clever, curious, somepony who just had to ask questions. Cadance’s meddling meant that she just had to find somepony clever, witty, and engaging—not to mention somepony bold enough to behave as an equal. Yes, this was Cadance’s doing…

And Luna’s.

Sighing, Celestia rolled her eyes while thinking of her sister. As infuriated as she was with Luna, she was even more irate with herself. Right now, Celestia wanted nothing more than to rant and rage at her sister, to berate her for everything that had happened, for this ending. Standing statuesque, Celestia thought of endings.

For all of her stories of buttery ponies, Gosling still hung on her every word, trusting in her, believing in her. Had that ended? His implicit trust, his absolute belief in her… had today been the end of that? Gosling was just young enough that his trust, his unwavering assurance could only be compared to that special bond between a foal and their mother. The relationship that Gosling had with his mother was a pleasure to behold—it confirmed Celestia’s optimism that ponies were intrinsically good. Gosling had a similar fawning adoration for her that Celestia found endearing—which had, perhaps, ended. The guilt and shame for destroying something so precious was almost too much to bear.

When Celestia heard the door open, she knew without looking that it was Luna.

“I don’t know if I want you around right now.”

“Sleep would not come. It eluded Us because We art troubled—”

“Drop the illusion, Luna.”

“We had nopony else to go to… nopony to turn to—”

“And that’s our trouble, isn’t it? We’re stuck with one another. No matter what you do, no matter what I do, we’re stuck. We are a We. Nopony truly understands us so we are stuck with one another. Even during moments when I am sick of looking at you and I want nothing to do with your incessant whining, pleading, and begging. I have to make the worst of compromises so that you won’t collapse from the weight of your own misery.”

The silence coming from Luna raked cold claws through the back of Celestia’s mind.

“I said to drop the illusion, Luna. I will not say it again.”

Turning around, Celestia faced her sister and glowered at her in a way that only big sisters could. Luna remained defiant, with a proud, haughty look upon her face, and within Celestia, a deep, abiding anger bubbled up to the surface, along with a host of other emotions. Resentment too, made itself known, and everything surfacing made Celestia want to shout at her sibling, to scream, to holler, to let everything held within out.

Celestia’s eyes darted over to Gosling’s sleeping form and then went back to Luna. “Don’t make me choose between you and my own happiness.”

“The happiness you feel is a cheap trick,” Luna replied, her eyes flashing when she tossed her head about. “That’s what he does… it is like strong drink or an alchemical concoction that dulls the senses.”

“I cannot have a worthwhile conversation with a glass of wine.” Celestia’s eyes narrowed and Luna’s insinuation drove resentment towards outright hostility. How dare Luna suggest that. It was a struggle to stay civil, but Celestia kept her voice down. “I don’t care how he makes me happy, I only care that I am happy. Is that not enough? And what of you? I have seen you with him… you have been happy.”

“It is subtle trickery… control. He… overrides Our senses and there are times when We hate him because We cannot be anything but happy. We detest his influence, his intrusion, for there are times when We find our melancholy pleasurable.”

Reaching out with her mind, Celestia took matters into her own hooves; with little effort, she overpowered her sister, suppressed her magic, and stripped away all illusion. Luna, left naked, vulnerable, and defenseless, stood with her mouth agape, her horn sparking, unable to do anything to defend herself.

“How dare you!” Luna’s voice was a low feral growl. “So that is how it is to be now?”

“Yes,” Celestia hissed in return. “This is how it is now. If you act like a spoiled, coddled brat, rather than as my sister and my equal, I will act as your mother and not your sibling. I am exhausted from your constant emotional manipulations and the constant coddling that you require. You whine and bitch endlessly about not feeling as though you are my equal and that I overshadow you, but then you behave in such a way that I must carry you through your troubles.”

The hurt in Luna’s eyes was palpable.

“I am fully aware that Gosling’s talent is a subtle, powerful trait… and I don’t care. For a thousand years, I was miserable… I existed in total, utter melancholy, so much so that now I need something to help me lift my spirits. The very idea of losing my newfound happiness unhinges me and I am not willing to let you jeopardise that.”

Luna started to speak, but Celestia silenced her with a thought.

“Gosling is good for you. He makes you happy. Is that what this is all about? Whiny baby Wuna doesn’t want to take a pill or drink a potion to make herself better? Why must you resent everything that might help you?” Reaching up, Celestia rubbed her temple with her hoof, making hard little circles just below her ear that left her face distorted. “You complain about being sick… about being unwell in the mind… you bitch, piss, and moan about it endlessly and all of your therapy sessions are just whining sessions where you cry and try to evoke pity. But when the cure comes, you throw tantrums about that too.”

Now, Luna’s eyes were glassy and her protruding lower lip quivered in the most awful way.

“Gosling’s ascension is justified entirely by the fact that he puts up with your pathetic outbursts. He could be the Alicorn of Forbearance… the Prince of Patience. No one… no one has tried to be your friend like Gosling has. He cries sometimes because he can’t reach you and he feels as though he has failed as your husband. I have to sit with him and try to coax him from his troubled states… so that means that not only do I have to drag you along, but him as well. Your reluctance to do right for yourself is now dragging down not one, but two lives.”

When Luna tried to leave, the doors behind her vanished completely, leaving behind nothing but a bare stone wall. The alicorn filly panicked and though she pranced in place, there was nowhere she could run. There was no escape, no running away; when Luna realised the futility of it all, she gave up and went still. In defeat, she hung her head and did her best to look as submissive as possible.

“It doesn’t matter that the happiness Gosling offers is magical in nature,” Celestia said in a voice as cold as the vast distances between the stars. “After all we’ve endured, perhaps we’re in need of it. What is so terrible about being happy? About being well? Do we not deserve some measure of happiness?”

“And what about when he is gone?” Luna asked, her voice cracking at least four times in her terse sentence. “I don’t want to be happy only to have it ripped away. I know what we’ve discussed, but things change. Circumstances change. Today, I almost ruined everything… everything… you don’t even know what I’ve done., but I have an idea. I don’t even understand the full extent of what I’ve done. Gosling’s motivations remain incomprehensible to me. What he does doesn’t always make sense.”

“You stupid, selfish little bint… if only you’d open up to him and talk to him. Stop creeping around like a stalker in his dreams and stop examining his subconscious horrors. Just open up—”

“Now you’re just being mean!” Petulant, Luna stomped her right front hoof, flapped her wings against her sides, and squinted in defiance of her sister’s commanding gaze. After a moment, she melted and became submissive again. Head down low, ears sagging, she said, “I suppose I deserve it.”

“Yeah, Luna, I’m not falling for it. Sad Luna has no effect on me right now.”

At this, Luna’s head jerked up, her ears pricked, and her eyes narrowed. “Fuck off.”

“Sooner or later, Gosling will see this side of you… and be disgusted, just as Cadance and I are.”

In response, Luna’s ears splayed out sideways and her lip curled back in a snarl of contempt for her sister’s words. The whole of her body quivered, her muscles jerking, spasming, and twitching, telegraphing her sudden anxiety about this statement. After a few seconds, the hairs along her spine rose, and then, after that, she gave herself a shake to try and work everything loose.

“You know what you sound like to me…” Luna’s spine and neck now formed a perfectly straight line from head to dock and she glared at her sister with fierce, angry eyes that almost glowed with her inner-fires of rage. “You sound like an addict threatened with the loss of their supply.”

Celestia thought of all manner of horrible things she could say, awful things, reprehensible things, but she bit her tongue. Luna would get no satisfaction. Instead, Celestia allowed her face to grow distant and cold, which had an immediate effect upon Luna. For all of her bluster, for all of her snideness, for all of her cruel, careless words, Luna still craved love and affection.

“I didn’t mean that.” Luna folded like a house of cards in an indoor pegasus derby. “I’m troubled. When I came here, I came for help… for comfort. I did not come here for a fight—”

“No”—Celestia cut Luna off with no hesitation—“you came here because we’re stuck with one another and even after everything blew up in our faces, you thought you could come here and get sympathy. Even though you’re the cause of this problem, this mess… you came here for sympathy because you got caught up in the consequences. You were stuck cleaning up your own mess and now you’re ready for a pity party.” While she spoke, Celestia could see her sister gnawing upon her lip, almost to the point of drawing blood, no doubt.

“If the twos of yous don’t shut yer mugs—”

Celestia’s head swiveled around to look in the direction of the bed in alarm.

“—I’s gonna get up outta this bed somehow, and I’s gonna be a bad, bad husband when I slap the shit outta botha ya. I swear to somepony, if I hears just one more word, just one more word, I’s gonna shame my Ma.”

Luna’s alarm was far, far more visible than Celestia’s, and her ears pinned back against her skull even as her tail tucked between her legs. With Celestia’s spell still in effect, Luna was practically defenseless, and the door was still mysteriously vanished, meaning there was no escape. From the bed, there came a rustle, and one wing was dragged free from beneath the blankets.

What rose up out of the bed was very much like a zombie rising up out of a feculent, rotten bog. It moved with a series of slow jerks, with a lot of moaning and groaning. A dreadfully hungover zombie with a loose, slack jaw and red, bleary, bloodshot eyes. At this moment, Gosling was at his least handsome, least attractive state, and something about his uncoordinated yet purposeful movements absolutely terrified Celestia.

This is a zombie of Luna’s making, Celestia thought to herself.

Having watched Gosling wreck a library already, it appeared as though Luna was taking no chances. She sprinted across the room, her wings flapping, and bits of loose blue down formed flurries around her as she ducked behind Celestia. A leg was kicked over the side of the bed, then another, and the free wing flapped about as if it had a mind of its own.

“Sister!” The hissy, sibilant whisper that Luna made was quite pronounced. “Do something! Distract him with your sexual wiles!”

In response to this, Celestia rolled her eyes and let out a snort. Her long legs moved with a fluid grace and in a few quick steps she stood at the bedside, looking down at Gosling while he struggled to get up, no doubt with slapping on his mind. Already, her initial alarm was fading, replaced with worry and concern. Gosling was in no shape to get up and go on a slaphappy spree of face-smacking that would leave his mother shamed.

Using her wing, she shoved him down back into the bed, and using her magic, she pulled the covers over his head.

“It gots all dark all of a sudden,” came a muffled voice from beneath the bedding. “Did Luna turn?”

“Yes she did, Gosling,” Celestia replied, sighing out the words in a huff.

“Hang on, I’ll slap that right outta her. Just gimme a minute.”

And just like that, Celestia could not take the situation seriously any longer, because it had progressed beyond ridiculousness and into the absurd. The hungover zombie was still struggling to get up—he still fought to rise—and it was clear that in his current state, his frustrations could only be expressed in the most time honoured of pegasus traditions: the solemn spousal slap fight.

Who could blame him?

How much had he heard?

If turned loose on Luna, would he straighten her out?

Why was it so tempting to help him get out of the bed?

“Gosling, I’m so sorry, but you were bound to find out sooner or later. Not only does Luna have two sides, mania and depression, but she has two faces as well, one pleasant and the other not-so-pleasant. As tempting as it might be to slap both of those faces at times, we can’t. We’re stuck loving her, because who else will?”

“Yous”—the voice beneath the blanket was smothered and confused—“was doing a lousy job of that just a minute ago. I’s just saying… lousy.”

Hearing this, Celestia deflated. Thinking back, she thought of the moment when she held her tongue and she wanted to defend herself, to tell Gosling that she had held back the worst, but she also thought of all the poison barbs that had slipped out. Luna had come, no doubt to pick a fight or to have an emotional blowout—another emotional blowout—so she could exhaust herself and go to sleep.

“Hey… you… you can’t talk to my sister that way,” Luna said from behind Celestia.

“‘Cause that’s your job?” the slurred, slow voice from beneath the blankets asked.

When Luna let out a flustered huff, Celestia’s ears pricked. Gosling was likely to say anything in his current state and since Luna’s cover had been blown, she had no reason, no incentive to bite her tongue and hold back. Both Luna and Gosling were of that age when tongues wagged and left behind rampant casual destruction. The proverbial cat was out of the bag: Luna’s burgeoning, overbearing adolescence had been revealed and now, the sparks were free to fly.

“Was…”—there was a hiccup from beneath the blankets, followed by a thunderous belch—“Lemme try again… was anything yous said earlier even true?”

“Gosling—”

“It smells really bad here in the dungeon.” From beneath the blankets was a cough, followed by gagging.

Stepping around her sister, Luna approached the bedside, cautious, ready to flee, and she tried again. “Gosling… I meant what I said—”

“I heard how yous turned on you’s sister when Sad Luna didn’t work.”

“Gosling, that’s different! That’s—”

“Gross emotional manipulation?”

“No, I never—”

“Yes, actually, yous did. Once I finds my way outta this darkness, I’s gonna smack that insolence right outta you.” The lump beneath the blankets shifted, rising a bit, which sent Luna scrambling away.

For a moment, Celestia thought about saying something to Luna, but thought better of it. What she wanted to say wasn’t very nice, a reminder about how she had brought all of this down upon her own head, but right now, such words would not be advantageous. When a black hoof shot out from beneath the edge of the blankets, Celestia pulled the covers back over it, leaving poor Gosling to continue flailing about in the dark, trapped in a Tartarian stench of his own making.

“Sees, I’s in doubt now, Luna. If yous don’t get what yous want from me, will yous turn on me too?”

“It’s different between my sister and I!” Luna’s shout filled the room and caused the lump beneath the covers to go still.

“So… yous knows you’s stuck with youses sister, so yous treats her likes dirt and yous takes youses sister for granted?” After a moment, the stifled voice added, “Sunshine, yous got quiet… don’t think for a moment I’s forgotten about yous. My wing is going ‘cross that ass later.”

Feeling a light touch of feathers, Celestia looked behind her. She saw Luna, who cowered, and the frightened blue filly mouthed the words, “What’s gotten into him?” in total silence. Never in her long existence had Celestia seen her sister look so bewildered, frightened, and confused as she did right now, at this moment. It was something to be savoured.

Luna, who kept a safe distance from the menacing lump in the bed gave up her ruse of silence. “We married an inner-city hooligan.”

“Yes, Luna, we did. The masks are off. We’ve all seen each other as we really are. Gosling has seen you for what you really are, he’s seen me and my glorious failure, and we’ve now seen a Gosling that isn’t quite so eager to worship our hooves and placate us out of a misguided sense of faithful fervour. So… here we are, as we are. Can we live with one another?”

“Everything will be fine,” Gosling replied, “Once I slap some sense into the both of yous.”

Luna, who now paced to and fro behind Celestia, let out a shrill whine, shook her head from side to side, and then said, “I don’t like this part of Gosling, not at all, not in the—”

“Oh grow up,” Celestia snapped, and after saying it, had awareness that Luna was, indeed, growing up, but these things took time. “Gosling might be your playmate, but he’s not your plaything, Luna. Are you going to lose interest in your toy now that it’s talked back to you?”

At this, Luna bristled. “That’s not fair!”

“Why, I oughta…”

The lump beneath the blanket made a real struggle now to get free, but Celestia put the kibosh on that in a hurry. Grinding her teeth together, she could feel tears of frustration welling up in her eyes and for a second, she wondered if perhaps, she should release the beast from his warm, cosy prison. Common sense said no, because once free, Gosling might do things that he would certainly regret later and Celestia felt that she had to protect him from that.

Then of course, there was the matter of Seville…

Just as Celestia was about to say something to appeal to reason, the bed exploded: Gosling stood up somehow and his now-massive wings unfurled from his sides. Panting, snorting, red-eyed, his nostrils wide and flared, Celestia’s pretty bird had been replaced with a demonic denizen from the deepest, darkest, most vilest depths of the Abyss. The overpowering aroma of stallion musk, sour sweat, and orange-scented gin took over the room, leaving nothing pleasant to breathe.

Why, the very sight of him left Celestia’s knees weak and she suffered the urge to fan herself. A long, thin ribbon of drool hung from the crusted-over corner of Gosling’s mouth and the tendons in his wings creaked as he waved them around, celebrating his triumph over the darkness in which he had been banished.

Wobbling and moaning, Gosling treated the two sisters to a drunken, hungover display of dominance, waving his wings about willy-nilly. Luna backed herself into a corner and watched, peering at the stallion standing on the bed from between her spread primaries. Celestia too, watched, because everything about Gosling was out on display… everything.

Celestia could only guess as to how badly Gosling needed to pee.

“His speckles are most pleasing to the eye,” Luna remarked in an offhoofed manner.

“Mmm-hmm.” Celestia nodded while getting an eyeful of said speckles which now hung out on display.

Gosling took one step, then another, then took a tumble off of the bed and collapsed in a heap. He flailed about for a moment, grunting, but Celestia was hesitant to approach him for a whole host of reasons. Hungover ponies were often horny ponies, in Celestia’s experience, and Gosling had expressed a desire to do harm. There was also the fact that Gosling smelled atrocious, among so many other reasons.

Much to Celestia’s surprise, it was Luna who came forward, still peering through her spread primaries. She was cautious, slow, and appeared ready to bound away the moment that things went wrong. Stepping aside, Celestia allowed Luna to pass uncontested, and the blue filly trembled when she came to a stop near Gosling’s side.

Folding her wings against her sides, Luna held out her hoof to Gosling in an offer of assistance. Bracing herself on three legs, she pulled him upright and then kept him from falling over again. Shuffling about, Gosling looked down on the smaller blue mare with frightful bloodshot eyes and Luna looked up at him, passive, submissive, and timid.

“Today just hasn’t been a good day for you, has it?” Luna kept her eyes focused on Gosling’s face and made no effort to look at what hung down below.

“Yous isn’t trustworthy.” Gosling’s gin-scented words caused Luna to make a dreadful gookie-face. “I’s remembering how fast yous turned on youses sister.”

“I did that.” Luna inhaled, filling her barrel and allowing it to expand, and then she let everything out in a huff. “I always count on her forgiving me and she always does. I exploit the fact that she feels guilty about our shared past. She’s weak like that—”

Gosling’s wing moved with lightning speed and before Celestia could even cringe the hearty smack on Luna’s cheek rebounded through the room like a thunderclap. Luna staggered backwards, her eyes blinking and crossing in shock, and right away redness could be seen beneath the blue. For a moment, there was anger on Luna’s face, rage even, but that melted away.

Luna’s legs stiffened, as did her spine, and she stood up tall in defiance. “I’ll confess, I deserved that, though I don’t think you’d have done that sober.”

“I mighta. Yous don’t even wanna know what went through my mind earlier.”

This made Luna turn away and Celestia knew why; Luna would be seeing all of this in Gosling’s dreams for quite some time. She would be trapped in a gallery of horror of her own making and upon having this realisation, Celestia felt bad for her sister. Things had gone sideways and nothing would ever be the same.

“My Ma slapped me once,” Gosling said, his words slurred and slow. “Just once. I’s disrespectful. I… I took Celestia’s name in vain when I hurt myself and my Ma, she gave me what for right across the kisser. Now… if yous’ll excuse me, I gotsta go piss and then I gotsta go back to bed because my head hurts more than youses face does.”

Stumbling away, Gosling shambled for the bathroom…

When Celestia lead Gosling back through the room, he was sweaty, shivering, and mumbling incoherently beneath his breath. Luna had retreated to a chair and was curled up. When passed, she yawned while she kept a worried, wary eye on Gosling, who was damp after having cold water ran over his face and neck.

With a flash of magic that caused Luna and Gosling to wince, Celestia made the bed, leaving it neat and tidy, then pulled back the blankets. Saying nothing, she gave Gosling a hard shove, which sent him tumbling over, and he fell onto the bed with a soft thump. Before he could recover, Celestia shoved him again, scooting him over, and then she turned around to face Luna.

“Come on, get in the bed.”

Luna’s reply was a pathetic, mewling whine: “No.”

“Get in the bed, Luna. We both know that this is where you will end up, so please, for all our sakes, just do it.” Celestia was surprised by just how calm her voice sounded after everything that had happened. “I’m not messing around, Luna. I’ll drag you in by your ear, if necessary.”

“I’m not a foal!”

“I beg to differ,” Gosling said in a low, pained whisper.

“Things aren’t settled.” Luna’s ears drooped and she ducked her head low, almost resting it upon the arm of the chair. “We’re still fighting, it feels like. And Gosling slapped me.”

“Yeah, well, he got me in the bathroom, right where he said he would.” Rolling her eyes, Celestia let heave an exasperated sigh. “I too, deserved that. I fear our days of bickering near a middle, Luna.”

“I don’t want to get in the bed.” Both of Luna’s ears twitched, but failed to rise. “He smells.”

“So do you, Luna. Don’t look so shocked. I know for certain that you rubbed one out to try and help you sleep and then you didn’t shower. Just because you can’t smell it doesn’t mean that we can’t. Get in the bed, Luna.” Though tempted, Celestia did not allow herself to smile.

“No.” Gosling’s eyes were squeezed shut. “Keep Princess Grumpy Goth out of the bed. She stinks.”

Pausing, Celestia couldn’t tell if Gosling was trying to help or hinder. It was impossible to tell and thinking about it made her want to laugh, which would be disastrous right now. Yes, laughter would be the worst possible thing, because Luna had to feel that she was being taken seriously right now, or there would be an epic meltdown.

“Come on, Luna. Have a nice happy nap—”

“But I don’t want a happy nap!” Though she did not raise her head, Luna bristled at her sister’s suggestion. “We’re still fighting. Everything is awful. Gosling’s talent, his gift to make others happy isn’t going to fix anything. Nothing is sorted out and everything is a mess.”

“Luna, this isn’t going to be resolved in a day.” Somehow, Celestia summoned an entire galaxy’s worth of patience, which she needed now more than ever. “This will not be resolved in a week, even. Like so many other things in life, this will have to be broken down into itty, bitty little parts and dealt with one piece at a time. In the meantime, you need to sleep and Gosling needs some quiet.”

“Don’t make no empty threats,” Gosling grumbled while he rubbed his damp face against his pillow. “Yous gotta handle this.”

With a sigh, Celestia realised that Gosling was right and she had to follow through with Luna. That was the problem and he had made that clear in the bathroom, not long after throwing up and putting his wing right across her backside, just as he had said he would do. Gosling had led by example… he had said, then he had done, and there was a stinging welt as a reminder.

She and Gosling had come to what she now referred to as the Commode Consensus.

Since Luna wanted to be a foal about this, she would be treated as a foal. Reaching out with her magic, Celestia got a good grip on Luna’s tender ear and gave it a hearty tug. Luna tumbled out of the chair in seconds, hissing like a hot teakettle, and her cheeks bulged with fury, as did her eyes. When Luna did not rise to her hooves, Celestia gave the velvety ear a twist and a yank, which made the prone alicorn let loose a whimper.

When Luna braced her hooves, Celestia had no choice but drag Luna across the floor by her ear, and she regretted every horrible second of it. So far, the Commode Consensus wasn’t working out as she had hoped, and she wondered what Cadance would think of this. Of course, Princess Busybody too, demanded tough love, so Celestia was uncertain if her niece would disapprove.

It worked though, because Luna lept up onto her hooves and bounded for the bed. In midair, she twisted her lithe body around and then flopped into place right beside Gosling, who grunted. When he threw a foreleg over her, she panicked, her eyes went wide, and when she was little spooned against him, she squirmed—but didn’t squirm for long.

Sighing with relief, Celestia tucked them both into bed and knew that Luna would be asleep in minutes. Hopefully, Gosling would also be dragged into slumberland as well. Not a word was spoken, no protests were made, no whining took place, nothing but blissful silence. Backing away from the bed, Celestia breathed in and breathed out, thankful that it was over.

After all of this fuss and headache, raising three cute little foals would be easy...

Author's Note

Today, on ponies behaving badly...

Chapter 52

A tray with coffee and tea was set down upon the long, narrow table and the young stallion server skedaddled with all haste. Around this table was quite a number of ponies, the most important of which were the three crowned Princes of Equestria. Shining Armor sat at the head of the table, wearing his circlet of office, Blueblood sat on his right, and Gosling off to his left. Beside Gosling was his retinue, the Ponies Who Got Things Done. Beans, Toast, and Seville all took up the seats closest to Gosling, and they were getting stuff done.

“There is going to be a great deal of legislation come spring and we’ll be working to fix Mister Mariner’s upset, but to do that, we really do need to sort out an age of adulthood for Equestria. Many of our proposed solutions require adults.”

When Paper Pusher had finished speaking, Blueblood let out a dry cough.

“This is a non-issue,” a pony named Rubber Stamp said, a grizzled old veteran of bureaucratic standards. “This is a political rider, plain and simple… something done to satisfy an agenda. It’s not a real issue and has never been.” Smoothing out his magnificent mustache, Mister Stamp poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled a pink-frosted donut from the tray with his magic.

Glancing down at the stack of papers in front of him, Gosling had already been warned by Raven that this issue would surface. He had correspondence from his fellow Confessors and dozens of community leaders on this issue: none of them would budge, and Gosling was expected to represent the interests of the First Tribes.

Leaning in, Gosling put his game piece down upon the board: “The First Tribes shall support no law that invalidates our established traditions. Everypony wants the Age of Accountability to be raised, considerably, and that takes away from us.”

“Why the whole thing with sevens?” Rubber Stamp asked. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but I’ve always worried it would be seen as disrespectful somehow. Why is seven so important?”

“Seven,” Gosling replied, reminding himself that he was acting as the Confessor at the moment, “is the number that represents an alicorn. One horn, two wings, four stout legs. Does this satisfy your inquiry, Mister Stamp?”

“Indeed, it does.” Grinning, the old stallion tore into his donut and smeared pink frosting on his mustache.

“It is because of the first tribes that we face a crisis in the orphanages—”

“Mind your tongue!” Blueblood leaned forward, turned his steely gaze upon Paper Pusher, and his eyebrows furrowed down over his eyes. “Say anything disrespectful and I will have your tongue stapled to this table!”

In response, Paper Pusher recoiled and then became quite apologetic. “But this is actually the problem… the system is strained to its limits after the recent crisis involving Mister Mariner. All across the nation, the orphanages and the larger orphanariums are tossing out foals before they can be educated and properly prepared for the world. They are using the First Tribe’s age of adulthood as an excuse to dump an unprepared, unready foal out into the world at the tender age of fourteen.”

“Can’t they just join the guard?” Rubber Stamp shrugged and then looked around the table at his fellow ponies. “Three hots and a cot, right? Prince Gosling here dropped out of school and joined the guard.”

“We owe them a better future than just military service,” Paper Pusher said while casting a worried glance in Blueblood’s direction.

“Lip service.” Rubber Stamp squinted at Paper Pusher. “You don’t actually care about this issue at all… but it sure is useful for pushing your agenda, isn’t it?”

Gosling watched as Paper Pusher scowled and he waited for a response, which did not seem forthcoming. Shining Armor was quiet, too quiet, and Gosling wished that Shining would weigh in, say something, do something, do anything, because Gosling was deep in unfamiliar territory.

“Having an established Age of Accountability would solve the problem. The First Tribes foals could be released into society at fourteen in recognition of their so-called traditions and everypony else could get responsible care.”

Lip quivering, Blueblood’s horn ignited with a fiery glow and then a stapler popped into existence on the table in front of him. Paper Pusher let out a whine as he shied away and Gosling took notes on how Blueblood dealt with bureaucrats. Rubber Stamp chuckled and licked frosting from his mighty, magnificent mustache. Shining Armor however, remained silent.

“Hey, Goose.” Turning his head, Seville looked in Gosling’s direction and tapped his hoof on a pile of papers. “Raven’s cheat-sheet of facts does kinda support what Paper Pusher has to say. Somehow, she knew that this would be an issue.” The earth pony paused for a moment and then he turned about in his seat to face Paper Pusher. “What you’re not saying is how do we deal with the costs. That’s the whole reason why these orphanages are dumping foals. There’s no money. If we force them to keep foals longer, who pays for the extended care? This”—he tapped on the paper with his hoof—“this right here is why I think you’re blowing smoke right now.”

“I’ll confess that there is an agenda at work here, but this is merely a symptom of a much larger problem! Can you not see that?” Paper Pusher threw himself back into his chair, rolled his eyes, and threw his front hooves up into the air while heaving an exaggerated sigh.

It became very clear to Gosling that there was an easy solution to be had here, and he was a bit confused that nopony had instituted it sooner. Mere moments after reaching this conclusion of sorts, he paused, and knew that he wasn’t that clever. Surely, somepony had tried this approach before, and it had failed for whatever reason.

“A vast majority of ponies support the two-decade mark,” Paper Pusher said, and he now sounded quite meek. “A nice even age of twenty. Before anypony says anything, I am aware of the First Tribes and the age of twenty-one. Negotiations are possible and those whose interests I represent are willing to extend one extra year.”

“This would really put a lot of orphanages right under,” Seville muttered. “You were so worried about that just a moment ago.”

It seemed as though Paper Pusher ignored Seville and had nothing to say.

Gosling however, couldn’t ignore it, and it looked like a mighty inviting hill to start a fight on, a battlefield of his own choosing. Where others might see political posturing, Gosling saw opportunity—and a chance to steal away a lever useful for political maneuvering. He became aware of the fact that Blueblood was staring at him, a cold, commanding, piercing stare, and Gosling squirmed in his seat beneath the withering gaze.

“Twenty one is too old,” Rubber Stamp said and he shook the remains of his donut at Paper Pusher. “That would gut our military of able-bodied youth and we’re in need of every warm body we can muster. I still don’t see why we can’t have the military raising our orphans. Well, at least some of them. Solve two problems at once.”

“Unconscionable!” Paper Pusher cried while he made a dismissive wave at Rubber Stamp. “We can’t have stable, traditional families that lay down the foundations for our future if all of our youth are swept into military service!”

“And we have no future and no families without a strong military!” Mustache bristling, Rubber Stamp’s jovial nature vanished. “I joined Her Majesty’s Royal Navy when I was twelve! Twelve! I had to lie about my age to get in! I’ve had nothing but gain from it! I am the successful, well-rounded pony that I am right now because of my service in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. They are my family. Our society is becoming lax and spineless and we need good military discipline!”

“Hooray… let’s hear it for rum, sodomy, and the lash.” Blueblood’s deadpan expression silenced both bureaucrats, and the both of them turned to look at him with bewildered expressions. “Rum, buggery, and discipline. Sets a stallion straight in his life, for certain.”

Though his mustache quivered, Rubber Stamp had no words of reply.

Hearth’s Warming was just a few short days away now, and the Winter Moon Festival as well. It had been a troubling time for Gosling as of late, living in the aftermath of the Great Meltdown. He was desperate for some way to redeem himself, some way to recover from the downward spiral that had claimed him. Gosling was itching for a cause, something he could give himself over to so that he might feel better, because his feelings of inadequacy were crushing him.

“About the orphanages,” Gosling said while he adjusted his posture and sat up straight. After a quick reminder that how he did this was important, he carried on. “Beans, Toast, begin drafting legislation that orphanages cannot discharge a foal until secondary education has been completed—”

“Gosling, this legislation will never pass, not without a veritable blizzard of riders.” Blueblood’s tone was cold and lacked any sort of feeling. “And there is the cost to consider.”

“Very well.” Gosling took a deep breath and then started over. “Beans, Toast, begin drafting a royal decree in my name that orphanages cannot discharge a foal until secondary education has been completed and that said foal must pass a basic competency test.”

Now, Shining Armor had something to say: “Gosling, there are great costs to be considered.”

“We’ll give more tax money to orphanages,” Gosling replied.

Blueblood shook his head, but it was Paper Pusher who said something: “We can’t!”

“Why not?” Gosling demanded while Beans and Toast were already hard at work on drafting a decree.

“It’ll be the undoing of society!” Paper Pusher cried and he pressed both front hooves against his cheeks. “Nopony wants to pay taxes to raise some careless, lazy pony’s foals. If we have well-funded orphanages that are warm and inviting, nopony will want to raise families! Nopony will want the headache and hassle! Everything we hold near and dear to our hearts will be undone! A thousand years of family tradition tossed out of the window! It’ll be the creation of a welfare state and the death of equinal responsibility! Let those who have extra be charitable, but don’t place a burden upon the poor to pay the costs of somepony else’s mistakes!”

Seville snorted.

Rubber Stamp, whose donut was now gone, thumped his hoof upon the table. “Paper Pusher is rather right. If we increase taxes and create a burden on the public’s back, more foals will be turned loose and given over to the Crown to raise. Increasing the funding on welfare services will only create a greater need for welfare. That’s the trap. We need to lower taxes somehow, and if we do that, if we give the public the means to care for themselves, then fewer foals will be abandoned. In this, Paper Pusher is correct.”

“Beans… Toast… once the holidays are done and over, I want the both of you to get in touch with Twilight Velvet and I want a real world estimate of the actual costs involved to have well-funded orphanages.” Gosling thought about the book that Twilight had given him, and he knew that taking this first step would lead to better, greater steps—but he had to get the ball rolling first.

“Gosling, what are you doing?” Shining Armor asked and nothing about his mood could be determined from his voice. “This was not on the agenda for today.”

“It became the agenda,” Gosling replied while he began to rub his chin. “Looking after the least of us will always be on my agenda.”

“Gosling…”—Shining Armor’s voice was still devoid of any sort of indicator of his mood—“this has never gone well in the past. Our nation is still recovering from Mister Mariner’s gambit. This very issue has torn apart our government when it was healthy and functioned well. I cannot even imagine what it might do to our government now.”

“I’ll have nothing to do with a government that marginalises the least of us,” Gosling said to Shining Armor. “And these foals are the least of us. Who represents them? They have no industry, exist only as a drain upon the system, and with the recent changes in labour laws, ponies feel that they offer nothing to society, when nothing could be further from the truth. They are the future of our great society… perhaps if we educate them and prepare them adequately, we could produce a generation of greatness. If they come from nothing, surely we can harness them as ambitious go-getters.”

Gosling’s mouth went dry, so he nudged Beans, who sat beside him. In response, Beans began fixing Gosling some tea, making short work of the ritual with the liberal application of magic. It was, perhaps, a little too quiet, with the only sounds being the preparation of tea and the scratching of a pen against paper. Off to Gosling’s right, Shining Armor was rubbing his chin, and across the table, Blueblood stared at Gosling with narrowed, curious eyes.

“Find disadvantaged single parents and maybe even families who need a place to stay.” Seville’s sudden mutterings cause every ear at the table to prick. “Have them look after orphans. Give them work and I’m sure they’ll take it. Give them a salary or a stipend and I’m positive that they’ll do the job. We rely too much on charitable souls to run an orphanage and depending on volunteers seems like a real boneheaded thing to do. That’s the problem right there.”

“Are you proposing that we exploit disadvantaged families?” Paper Pusher asked Seville.

“Exploit is such an ugly word.” Seville made a gesture with his hoof to dismiss the ugly, unwanted word. “Look, this is an issue close to my heart, okay? I’ve seen some stuff. I know some stories. Exploiting would be wrong, alright? But using one disadvantaged part of the population to help another disadvantaged part of the population just seems right, you know?”

Now, Paper Pusher was rubbing his chin.

“Look, I know who you are,” Seville said to the pony beside him. “Not only are you one of our top bureaucrats, but you are also one of the heads of the Traditionalist Conservative Family Coalition. Your little clique has done a lot of good work, but you could be doing more. The only families you seem to be interested in helping are those who fund your cause or assist you in some way—”

“We have an interest in helping everypony!” Paper Pusher retorted and his outburst was punctuated by an outraged nickery-wicker.

“Good, then prove it.” Seville, unimpressed by Paper Pusher’s theatrics, ploughed onwards. “If you and yours were to help these orphans and help them understand the importance of family, just imagine how your ranks might swell once they grew up. As it stands, I would say that these orphans have compromised family values… but you could be helping to make that better.”

“He’s got you there,” Rubber Stamp said to the pony across the table and he helped himself to another donut.

“Princess Cadance needs research subjects.” Gosling’s words were said in a calm matter-of-fact sort of way and he glanced in Shining Armor’s direction for a moment. “Not to sound cold and exploitive, but we have this untapped resource. We could start using orphanages as places of research. We could study behaviour and ways to modify behaviour. We could be studying herd dynamics as they develop. We could be observing and doing… rather than be passive and allow this potential resource to go to waste.”

“Wait.” Paper Pusher held his hoof up and Blueblood let out a displeased snort. “Wait… that’s a good idea, actually. Those whose interests I represent often lament the costs of education and research. We fund a lot of studies. Like, a whole lot of studies, and we’re big fans of Princess Cadance’s noble work. Almost all of us feel that society is being held back by the sheer cost of organised research. Could we actually do what you said, Gosling? If we can, I know I can pound the drums to call for support. It’ll be a hard sell, but I think it can be done.”

Now, Blueblood stared at Paper Pusher with a blank expression.

“Plus… think of the job experience. We could train future psychologists and the orphans would have caretakers, of a sort.” Paper Pusher took a deep breath, his cheeks and his eyes bulged for a moment, and then he let everything out in a huff. “I sense many opportunities.”

When Gosling turned to look at Shining Armor, he saw that his fellow prince was lost in thought. Yes, Shining Armor had checked out of the conversation and was no doubt thinking great thoughts. Gosling lifted his teacup, took a cautious slurp, and then gulped down about half of it. Gosling knew that if he could sway Shining Armor’s stance on this issue, he would have an ally. As for Blueblood… Blueblood was giving nothing away right now, and Gosling would have to consult with him later.

“We can’t call it a tax,” Rubber Stamp said and this drew a few confused grunts from around the table. “We even say the word ‘tax’ and it’ll lead to entrenched warfare on the various political fronts.”

“He’s right, you know.” Blueblood nodded his head. “That word will be an invitation to war. This has never gone well in the past. Seville, we’ll need spin, but it has to be honest.”

“I’m on it.”

“How do we spin this?” Gosling asked, bewildered by the very events he had set in motion.

Paper Pusher seemed at a loss for words and shrugged. Toast was too busy writing to say anything, and Beans was focused upon his twin’s efforts. Seville was hunched over and had a dour look of concentration upon his face. Shining Armor appeared to be totally and completely lost in thought. Even Blueblood had no response, and Gosling found this worrisome. Blueblood, his mentor, always had some ways and means at his disposal.

“In Her Majesty’s Royal Navy”—Rubber Stamp’s voice was somehow soft and boisterous at the same time—“retreat is frowned upon. Retreat can ruin a career and bring no end of accusations of cowardice. It’s bad for morale. The very word retreat is a deadly poison to the ears that drips right into the mind…”

His words trailed off and the gruff old unicorn shuddered.

“So we never retreat. But we do make strategic redeployments. That’s how we spin this… we’ll call it a strategic investment in the future. Frame it as an opportunity. It isn’t a tax, but a strategic reallocation brought about by drastic reorganization of priorities. We can say it is for long-term reconstruction efforts brought about by Mister Mariner’s attempted coup d'état. Play on public sympathy… everypony has been hurt somehow by that bastard. He is one of the most hated creatures in existence right now, and we can exploit that to quell dissension in the ranks.”

“Yes.” Blueblood’s lip curled back in a fantastic, leering sneer. “Merely invoking the notion that somepony supports him is enough to cause furious backpedalling.”

Paper Pusher nodded. “Right. So now we sort out the sordid details to make this happen…”

The chair offered no comfort. Oh, it was a fine chair, one of the best chairs that bits could buy, but from the way Gosling squirmed it seemed as though he was sitting on a bed of live coals. Even though he had a productive morning and had accomplished much, he was miserable, just downright miserable, and none of the good that he had done could distract him from the troubles on his mind.

As more days passed, as Hearth’s Warming drew nearer, the full scope and scale of his emotional blowout revealed itself to Gosling. He’d been avoiding his mother, actively hiding from her. There was no way he could face her right now and he hadn’t told her what he had done. Unable to face himself, he had kept himself busy—too busy—and had buried himself in his work, because if he couldn’t find some way to live with himself, he could at least labour to redeem himself.

Left alone with no distractions, no work, nothing to demand his attention, Gosling’s conscience dragged him down into the black, disconcerting depths. Beyond the door just a few yards away, Luna was speaking to Lumina Loveletter—the therapist they all shared—and she no doubt had all manner of horrible things to say about him. There was a tension now between he and Luna, and with each passing day it grew more and more unbearable. He had handled himself poorly and was now facing the aftermath.

And what an aftermath it was.

When the door opened, Gosling held his breath. A shadowy silhouette lingered in the doorway, a dark, indistinct shape only defined by the warm, yellow light shining around it. The figure stepped out and the light vanished when the door was shut. At first, the figure was black, but as Gosling’s eyes adjusted to the change in light she faded into a beautiful midnight blue.

His mouth opened and he wanted to say he was sorry; he tried to do this, several times, but no words came. A thousand different thoughts rushed through his mind, all of them competing for his headspace, everything from saving Luna when he followed her into that spooky house to the awful moment where he had slapped her for the awful thing she had said about her sister being weak.

She approached and the ambient light of the room around them seemed to bend in weird, mysterious ways, leaving her face cloaked in shadow. Her eyes were almost luminous though and he found his gaze drawn there. Not her real eyes, but false eyes, illusionary eyes with bewitching enchantments to lure his gaze in.

Transfixed, Gosling did not move when she drew near, nor did he flinch when her horn passed mere inches near his face. When the tip of her nose pressed against his neck, he closed his eyes, and when she nuzzled his throat, he shivered. Each breath she took was hot against the thin skin of his throat and he wanted to hold her, to touch her, but he dared not move.

Then, she was gone without even the indescribable sound of winking.

A moment later, the door opened, and Lumina Loveletter’s voice could be heard: “Do come in, Gosling, we have much to discuss…”

Author's Note

Why yes, there has been a time skip. Why do you ask?

Chapter 53

It was impossible to know where Celestia was at the moment. Oh, her body was right here in front of him and Gosling felt an anxious sense of worry, mostly because there was so much that he just didn’t understand. She had gone into the astral realm just after dawn and her parting words were a terse, cryptic message: “Unsettling things are developing, I must go.”

Then, as she was wont to do, she was gone. This was something that had been happening more and more as of late; sometimes, Celestia went by herself, and at other times she had the company of Cadance. Now was one of those times she had gone by herself, departing from her body and setting her soul free to fly. Gosling, knowing very little about this, worried that her body was something of a husk right now—a living husk—but somehow empty. How did one detach one’s soul anyhow?

The only conclusion that could be drawn was that something big was about to happen.

Hesitant—almost shy even—Gosling approached the giantess in unaware repose. Things had been a little strained between them since the meltdown, though Gosling knew that it was mostly him. Celestia was ready to move on, to move beyond it all, to relegate it to the past of whatever weird timestream she lived by because it was already as good as ancient history to her. But Gosling had trouble letting go; his behaviour had been atrocious and he had acted like a foal. It was, as Celestia had so helpfully pointed out, a reminder that he still was, in fact, a foal in some ways. He had reached the age of adulthood for the First Tribes, but he had not reached the age of wisdom.

Losing his temper had been bad enough, but his behaviour when he was blackout drunk—though he remembered very little—was unforgivable. There was just no excuse. Just because Luna—and to some degree, Celestia—had done him wrong, there was just no justifying his own awful behaviour. So now, he had to fix things somehow, and it started with doubling down on his therapy with Lumina Loveletter.

Pressing his snoot against Celestia’s neck, Gosling snuffled a bit and felt her muscles jerk at his touch. Equestria did not know this pony, she had secrets, she was a being of great mystery. Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not wake. She did, however, react. The whole of her body seemed to glow with a faint light and a curious heat could be felt, a throbbing radiation that seemed to burst in time to her heartbeat. Several times he kissed her, his lips lingering upon the graceful pillar of her neck, and her curious reaction to his affection seemed to intensify.

Now, she glowed with the majesty of the sun and was almost unbearable to gaze upon.

Gosling hoped that whatever had just happened was helpful somehow. Clearly, something had happened, he could see that with his own eyes, but he had no understanding of what. The heat that came off of her in waves was far, far hotter now, not so much standing in the summer sun, but more like standing too close to an over-stoked fire. Why, it was almost hot enough to burn him.

Sighing, he pulled away, regretful that he had other duties.

Sleet and Hazy Breeze fluttered near the ceiling, hanging strings of paper lanterns while Purple Party kept a watchful eye upon them. On the floor, Moon Rose, Soprano Summers, and Flurry Heart all stared upwards, also watching as the lanterns were hung. The Winter Moon Festival was almost upon them, and everything had to be just perfect. With no real budget.

Outside, colossal ice sculptures were being carved; ice was plentiful, cheap, and Canterlot had plenty of it in the heart of winter. Unicorn porters were placing decorative bronze braziers near the door, and these would be going outside on the night of the festival so that ponies could gather around them so they could keep warm.

Gosling had heard the porters speak of a looming coal shortage and he hoped the rumours were not true. This was a brutal winter so far, and the last thing Equestria needed was a crisis of heating. Mister Mariner had owned most of the coal mines, most of the supply chains that kept it moving, and he had owned the means of distribution—a mistake that would never be allowed to happen again. Right now, measures were being taken to nationalise Equestria’s strategic resources, perhaps as much as fifty percent, though the numbers were still hotly debated.

There was an intense dislike for this effort to have Crown controlled strategic resources, and Gosling knew why after a number of heated exchanges; the captains of industry knew that they would have trouble creating artificial resource scarcity and inflating the price if the Crown did not go along with their price-fixing scheme. Of course, Gosling had made it known during that meeting that he was in favour of the Crown controlling one-hundred percent of Equestria’s strategic resources, and that all of them could go fronk themselves.

He knew that his popularity would take a real hit among the industrialists, and it did.

Stepping outside through the double doors, Gosling leaned into the howling wind and felt the biting cold gnaw at his hide. It was near whiteout conditions outside and the wind was downright cruel. Somehow, the festival would go on, no matter how cold it became. A short distance away, a group of carpenters laboured to construct the podium where Luna would raise the moon on the longest night of the year, and no doubt, a number of marriages would happen here. Ponies would brave the cold to take part in this momentous, historical celebration.

The blizzard raging over the city meant very little and Gosling knew that either Celestia or Luna could banish it at any moment. The skies would be clear when Luna raised the moon, because this night was important. His own role was of great importance as well, because he wouldn’t be Gosling, or Prince Gosling, no, he would be Confessor Gosling of the Pegasus Tribe… and given everything that had just happened, the very thought of this was enough to cause him fits of flighty panic.

His position felt even flimsier now than ever. He wasn’t the Confessor because of great learning, or faith, or some means of merit, but solely because he had married. And given the good shakedown his faith had received—he was now in a position where he had nothing but questions, with answers few and far between.

Because this was such an important night for the earth ponies in particular, an enormous banner bearing their tribal standard would be hung from the tower nearest to the podium. Had that tower been there just a few days ago? Gosling couldn’t tell, he couldn’t remember, but he did have a vague awareness that the castle configuration had been changed recently.

Pausing, Gosling tried to remember the earth pony tribal standard, because it was important. Four images in total, some crops, a hill, and what else? Oh, right! Two of Celestia’s standards, a stylised sun and some sunflowers. Yellow flowers? He was pretty sure they were some kind of yellow flowers, and maybe sunflowers. Standing in the driving snow, the distracted pegasus prince cut a confuzzled, windswept figure with his mane and tail billowing about him in a dramatic fashion.

“Prince Consort Gosling,” a low, rumbling voice said, interrupting Gosling’s thoughts. “Your Royal Sovereign, Princess Luna, the Night Lady requests your presence at once. She is in her aerie.”

Well, Gosling thought to himself, this is certainly one way to get my attention.

Turning about, he saw a lunar pegasus that was on the smaller side—by nocturnal pegasus standards. The shaggy brute was smoking in the cold and it appeared as though snowflakes melted before coming in contact with his body. He had seen battle—recently—and Gosling couldn’t help but wonder what sort of uncanny pain tolerance this creature possessed.

“You appear injured,” Gosling said to the guard.

“‘Tis but a scratch, Prince Consort Gosling.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

The corners of the guard’s mouth twitched upwards. “There was a hydra. We decided to take the Maud Pie approach and I volunteered to be swallowed. Things did not go as planned.”

This drew an impressive frown out of Gosling. “Things did not go as planned?”

“It seems this hydra was fond of thoroughly chewing its food, and did not swallow me whole. This led to an abrupt and sudden change of plan.”

“Yeesh, I would hope so.” Gosling snapped out a wing in a respectful salute. “Carry on, I shall go and attend to the needs of my princess.”

“Very good, Sir!”

With that, Gosling was off; flapping his wings, he battled the storm and took to the air.

He had hardly landed upon Luna’s balcony when the doors flew open. Right away, he was grabbed and forcibly yanked inside. The doors slammed shut behind him with a bang and Luna’s room, typically kept at near freezing, was blazing hot. Almost at once, he started sweating, and he watched as Luna paced to and fro, going the length of her room.

“You,” Luna said before Gosling had a chance to say anything, “these preparations for the Winter Moon Festival… you must cease them at once!”

Gosling was almost, but not quite, dumbfounded by Luna’s words. She looked frantic, upset, her lower lip was chewed on and bloody. Her wings had been preened a little too much; she was now missing some feathers and scabs were visible. She had, as a courtesy, dropped her illusion and stood before him as she was.

“Luna… why?”

“I cannot attend—”

“Luna, it seems as though we’re about to have ourselves another fight.”

Halting in place, Luna’s head whipped around and she cast an icy glare in Gosling’s direction. Gosling stared back, even though he knew how much Luna hated him doing it, because she had given him an earful about it in therapy. Her reasons for feeling this way were unknown, but she had mentioned that being stared at in such a way left her feeling insecure.

“Gosling, please, for my sake… don’t do this.”

“But I am doing this for your sake, Luna.”

“I know!” she bellowed and her words were like thunder pealing around the room. “You are spending all of this effort to make certain that this is as perfect as it possibly can be! You are pouring your heart and soul into this.”

“Luna, you’re talking crazy again!”

“Don’t say that to me!” With a huff, she began pacing again and jerked her eyes away from Gosling. After about a dozen quick steps, she said, “We fought. We quarreled. I wronged you in ways I’m still having some trouble understanding. I lied to you, treated you poorly, I have even treated you as less than a servant, and still, you do this for me. You must stop! The guilt is driving me insane! I can’t bear it! It’s driving me mad! I can’t sleep, I can’t focus, and I’m even having trouble going in and out of the dream realm! My concentration is so damaged that everything has turned erratic!”

Ears falling, Gosling stared down at the floor, confused. “I redoubled my efforts because of how I treated you. My behaviour in the library. Being angry. Slapping you.”

“I had that coming!” Luna shrieked in reply. “That’s just the point, Gosling! I deserved all of that! And I don’t deserve all of this! I need to be punished for what I’ve done and not have a festival held in my honour! All morning I’ve been thinking—plotting various ways to have you blow up at me and somehow sabotaging all of this so you’d call the festival off! I thought about leaving! I turned myself into a bat and flew laps around my aerie for several hours trying to escape myself!”

Luna could turn herself into a bat? Gosling lifted his head and watched her while she stormed back and forth, stomping and snorting, with her wings fidgeting and her tail flicking about. As she went marching past, he caught a whiff of arousal that made every muscle in his body go tense, and his stomach muscles began jerking.

“Do you need an emergency therapy session?” Gosling asked.

“NO!” Luna’s response was a high pitched whine that almost became a screech. “I need to be punished! I need to get what I deserve! I need for you to call off the Winter Moon Festival—”

“No.”

“How dare you say no!” Luna came to a halt again, this time near the fire. She stared into the flames, her face twitching, contorting, consumed with her rage. The whole of her body tensing, Luna’s eyes closed as her mouth fell open and she let out an ear piercing shriek that made every object in her room tremble.

Gosling was almost deafened by the sound.

Again she shrieked, and Gosling’s ears twitched in agony.

When it ended, she stood panting, her barrel heaving, and her wings were flared out from her sides. Eyes still closed, her spine arched a bit and her hind hooves scraped against the stone floor when her rear legs spread out a fair bit. Luna’s tail was a cracking whip now and she chewed on her lip in a savage, dreadful manner that drew fresh blood.

When she spoke—letting go of her lip—her voice had a peculiar quiet to it. “When you slapped me, it was the greatest thing ever. I felt better… no, I felt good. I felt relieved, Gosling. I immediately wanted you to do it again. It made the ache in my brain go away. When my sister grabbed me by my ear and gave me a good yank, I was so relieved… I wanted it to happen.”

Now, Gosling was dumbfounded.

“When I was in the bed with you, spooning with you, and you were sound asleep, I thought about you slapping me over and over… and I rubbed one out. I had to be stealthy, because my sister was off in that little alcove reading. That only added to the thrill and I had all kinds of weird fantasies about being caught… and punished.”

Recovering his tongue, Gosling scrambled for a quick reply. “You know, all those times you made jokes about that stuff… I thought you were joking. Now I feel even worse for losing my temper and slapping you.”

Luna whirled about with a suddenness that terrified Gosling, and he almost tripped over his hind hooves when he retreated. She was terrifying and appeared to be utterly unhinged. Left eye twitching, muscles jerking, her tail slashing far too close to the fire, Luna looked a little to much like an inner-city junkie dope fiend. For some reason, Gosling felt as though he was in real danger at the moment.

“Please, call off the Winter Moon Festival,” Luna said and there was an unsettling quaver to her voice. One front leg jerked when she raised it and then she lurched forwards, her hooves scraping against the stone floor.

“I’m not punishing you.” Gosling stared Luna right in the eye and suffered a sweaty belly. Bracing his legs, he stood defiant, not knowing what Luna might do next. She looked a bit like… well, a lunatic, but he wasn’t about to say that aloud, no way. Nothing in therapy had prepared him for this moment though, and he was terrified of Luna.

And, as it turned out, he was right to be afraid, because Luna launched herself at him. She struck with bone-rattling force and his teeth clapped together with enough force to make him see stars. The impact bowled him over backwards; he landed butt first, flipped over onto his back, and then struck the back of his head against the floor. Luna’s body and his own became a confusing, chaotic tangle of limbs, flapping wings, and the rustling of fuzz-against-fuzz caused static to go crackling.

Luna was straddling him—she had her powerful legs wrapped around his middle, just below his ribs—and he could feel the moist humidness of her sweaty, shivering, shuddering body against his belly. It really was a nightmare scenario of the worst sort, because Gosling was pretty certain that parts of him were going to respond, no matter how much he might try to reject what was going on.

In seconds, Luna’s forelegs were around his neck, crushing him, causing his neckbones to creak, and her terrific strength made Gosling feel helpless. Now, she was belly to belly with him, her hind legs had a vice grip around his middle and he feared that his neck might break at any moment. Luna’s face pressed into his neck, just below his jaw, and he almost pissed himself when he felt her horn graze his chin and lips.

Then, much to Gosling’s terror, Luna began bawling. It started with a mournful howl and turned into blubbering. She was clutching him, almost crushing him, and the scissoring of her thighs threatened his innards even as her forelegs felt as though they would break his neck. The whole of her body shook when she sucked in great, whooping gasps, which then escaped as powerful, convulsive sobs.

Crushed to the floor, Gosling did the only thing he could do: he held on.

“Do you feel better?”

Luna was sniffling now and the both of them were in a sitting position on the floor. She still clung to him, shivering, and Gosling’s neck was soaked with her tears. The filly beside him was sweaty, soggy even, and looked awful in a way that a filly never wanted to be seen in. A hiccup escaped, the force of which made her make a pained sound, but the hiccup seemed to be alone and without reinforcements.

“Yes, actually.” Luna’s voice was little more than a scratchy, vulnerable whisper. “Though I must confess, my intentions were less than honourable.”

“I gathered that on my own, thanks.”

“I also feel more guilty… and with the guilt comes the need to be punished. Why can’t I be normal? Why must I exist with these extremes, Confessor?”

She was doing it again—Gosling felt a dreadful tension in his heart and a suspicious part of his mind wondered if he was being played right now. After giving it some thought, he realised it didn’t matter—if Luna wished to confess, he would listen. He could do that, though his suspicion remained.

“It’s hard being our age,” Luna said in a breathy, wavering whisper. “I think my sister forgets that. I also don’t think she appreciates the remarkable control you have for being your age. What makes you so different? Why haven’t you just jumped me?”

Having no answer, Gosling shrugged.

“I really hate puberty,” Luna continued and she pressed herself against Gosling. “And this is the worst. Lumina thinks it is because of better diet and health. She might be right. But this has always been bad… I’ve always been at my most unstable during these years. One time, after one of my rebirths, I hit puberty and something was broken… two decades later, and I am still in the raging throes of puberty. I was stuck.”

“Did it ever get better?” Gosling asked.

“I killed myself to make it go away,” Luna replied.

“I… that’s… I wish you… that’s just…” Gosling stammered, but the words he wanted would not come, so he gave up.

“There are times when I have bad dreams that this cycle of puberty will never end.” Closing her eyes, Luna leaned a little more against Gosling and clutched at his foreleg with one of her own. “I have trouble with the fact that you make me happy, Gosling. I hold a great deal of resentment towards you because this is an element of life that I have no control over. It feels like you rob me of my free will, and I have moments where I fly into a rage because I can’t help but feel a little bit better when I am with you. Lumina told me I need to tell you that in a calm, rational manner, and this is about as close as I get to calm and rational.”

“I suppose you needed to have another blowout?” Angling his head, Gosling peered down his muzzle at Luna, who was clinging to him. When she did not respond, he sighed and knew that he already had the answer. He thought about the assignment given to him by Cadance, the one about getting her to confess to loving him, and wondered that if she did, perhaps, in her own way.

Sounding foalish, Luna asked, “Will you take a nap with me?”

To which he replied, “Do you plan to rub your nub after I’m asleep?”

“Probably.” Luna sounded embarrassed and her face grew warm against his neck.

Rather than say anything, Gosling pulled away, just enough to adjust his body position, and he turned Luna so that she was facing him a little more. Looking down at her, he watched her tremble, and was quite disgusted by the condition of her face. She was snotty, her lip was chewed up, and everything was still soggy from her many tears.

Closing his eyes, he committed himself, bent his neck, and kissed her. She resisted for a moment, and he felt her make a halfhearted, feeble attempt to pull away, but he held on until the moment of resistance had passed. When her lips parted just a little and he could feel her hot breath blowing over his teeth, he knew that she had warmed to his affections. Cautious, he reached out with his tongue, seeking entry, and was greeted by Luna’s rough, bumpy sensory organ.

The kiss devolved into the sort of disgusting, slobbery mess that adolescent kisses do, with no boundaries, no concerns for good manners or taste, and no trace of any sort of romantic, loving sound: no, this sounded like two wrestlers having a no-holds-barred title match in a vat of mayonnaise.

For being vegetarians, some ponies truly loved having some meat in their mouths.

Author's Note

To be fair, Luna revealed her inner nature in Perilous Romance but everybody thought she was joking.

"Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks."

Chapter 54

The day could not be any more exciting and tonight—tonight—was the night. For tonight would be Winter Moon Festival, Luna’s big night. Celestia could feel the electric tension in the air and she wanted her little sister’s big night to be just perfect. It had to be perfect, and it would be, because Gosling was overseeing everything, every aspect, every conceivable minute detail. Celestia knew from Lumina Loveletter that Gosling had pinned his own recovery from the blowout on this special night—so everything just had to go right.

This tension, as delightful as it was, was almost unbearable. Celestia had the jitters, of course she did, because important royal functions often brought party crashers. Threats had been made, various sources of intelligence all stated that various efforts were in the works to disrupt or otherwise ruin Luna’s momentous return. Agitators from the Ascendancy were said to be lurking in Canterlot. Malcontents and dissidents were said to be planning a candlelight protest, which simply could not be allowed to happen, not tonight. And of course, there were those within the government who believed that Luna was unfit to wear the crown.

These voices had to be silenced—at least for tonight.

“We’re doubling the number of the Nightwatch on the streets tonight in Canterlot,” Kibitz said in a voice of calm assurance, just the voice that Celestia needed at the moment. “The rest of the Nightwatch will be in reserve, ready with, uh, party armor in the event that a random, unscheduled celebratory action breaks out and your little ponies get rowdy in the streets.”

“I don’t want them hurt,” Celestia said while she turned to look Kibitz in the eye. “You speak of the agitators and potential protestors. If something should happen… if something does happen… I don’t want the Nightwatch cracking open skulls like party favours. Do whatever it takes to quell dissension and restore order, but I don’t want a bloodbath. Call in the Solars if necessary to pacify and render inert. They can do so with a minimum of casualties.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Kibitz sighed, a sad sound, and his ears pivoted backwards. “Ma’am, might I remind you, though I am hesitant to do so, that maybe… what we need is a convincing and thorough display of discipline and order—”

“And on any other night, I might agree with you, but not tonight. Not on Luna’s special night. This night marks Luna’s return to the established pantheon of the First Tribes. I want this night to be remembered for all the right reasons… and not the night when a rebellion was ground to paste beneath the hooves of the city watch.”

“Right, Ma’am.” Kibitz bowed his head and Raven, who stood nearby, let out a snort.

Celestia already knew how Raven felt, and why she had snorted. Raven wanted to drop the pretense of order, and to establish actual order. The illusion of order and control was not enough. It was not enough to project and pretend that everything was fine, no. Raven had grown increasingly vocal that while gentleness and kind rule had its place, the Crown could also be firm. It was like a parent doing more than raising their voice with the threat of punishment, but saying nothing and moving on to the actual punishment itself.

For Raven, sometimes, a sound, thorough spanking was absolutely necessary.

“Oh, before we conclude, you have a friendship letter,” Raven said to Celestia.

“Oh?” Celestia felt a curious eagerness, as she liked letters—they were the ideal medium of exchange for introverts. You could take time to think about what one said, ensuring each word was perfect and well thought out. Ah, so much could be done with words.

“Uh, Gosling was given an assignment by his therapist, Lumina. To understand you better, he was told to approach you in a way that a commoner might approach you. He was told to try and see you in a different light, so that he might appreciate and understand you better. Lumina and Cadance both say this will aid in his recovery.”

“So Gosling wrote me a friendship letter?” Celestia, sheepish, squirmed in her chair.

“Well, a lot of ponies do,” Raven replied. “I mean, most of your students in your school have some means of correspondence with you. Twilight’s friendship letters have been turned into bestselling novels and friendship letters from past personal students are popular reads in the Royal Archives. This is kind of what you are known for.”

At this, Celestia’s mouth went dry. “Oh. How pleasant. Shouldn’t the Princess of Friendship be known for friendship letters? How awkward.”

“Do you wish to read it or shall I read it for you?” Raven asked, getting right down to brass tacks and shaking the letter in the air over her horn.

“It has been a most dreadful morning, I do believe a good friendship letter reading is in order.” Celestia gave her trusted assistant a nod. “By all means, let us see what my current student has learned about friendship. No doubt, Gosling poured his heart and soul into this letter, so this should be sweet.”

“Indeed, Ma’am.” Kibitz shuffled a little closer to Raven and a stiff, starchy smile lurked beneath his mustache. “We could do with a little bit of happiness after such a dreadful discussion. Gosling is always so warm and sincere, Ma’am. It’s refreshing to see such earnestness among the youth.”

“Read me this letter before we adjourn.” Extending her wing, Celestia made a gesture at her assistant. “I am curious to see how Gosling might see me and address me as a commoner might through a friendship letter. Let us see what he has to say. Let us reward his effort and appreciate what he’s done.”

“Right.” Raven levitated up her teacup, took a swallow, swished it around, and sent the teacup away. Adjusting her glasses, she broke the seal on the canary yellow envelope, pulled it open, and pulled out the bone white parchment folded up inside. The fussy little assistant made much ado about unfolding the letter and then peered at it through the bottoms of her eyeglasses.

“Wow, Gosling actually wrote this and not Beans or Toast!”

“Raven, my dear girl, sincerity.” Kibitz had a warm solemnity to his words and he spent several seconds clearing his throat. “The good prince is exceptional. Of course, he’s had a most excellent teacher.”

“Kibitz, you have something on your nose. Something brown, by the looks of it.”

Rolling his eyes, the old retainer scowled and stepped away from his counterpart.

“Dear Princess Celestia,” Raven began, clearly speaking what were now timeless, oft-repeated words that were deeply ingrained in the collective consciousness of Equestrians everywhere. Pulling the letter away from her face, Raven smiled up at Celestia, and then her face vanished behind the paper once more.

Just as Raven was getting started, terror crept over Celestia and she wondered if Gosling’s natural inclination for snark and sarcasm might manifest from the ink. Would he talk about secrets? Lies? The importance of honesty? The ghosts of friendship lessons of the past all began moaning in her head, and a cold, sweaty feeling left her wingpits feeling clammy. Gosling knew the weight of a word—it was his job after all—and she feared whatever words Raven was about to read. Guilt, terrible, terrific guilt, made Celestia’s heart sink and she squirmed like the world’s biggest foal in her chair.

“Just like so many have before me, I am writing you a friendship letter,” Raven continued whilst Celestia wiggled in her seat. “I’ve learned a lot about friendship lately, the best and the worst aspects of it, but that is not the subject of this letter, so don’t you worry.”

Did Gosling anticipate her guilty reaction?

“No, the subject of this letter is about age.”

A terrific lump formed in Celestia’s throat and her state of near panic almost left her sweaty.

“Due to recent developments, I’ve made friends with ponies who are not my age. Little ponies. Foals. There are a number of them, but two in particular stand out; Moon Rose and Flurry Heart. In becoming their friend, I’ve had to grow as a pony. Being friends with a foal is quite different than being friends with somepony your own age. Foals, especially little ones, don’t communicate very well. They lack the means to express themselves. Because of this, I’ve learned that I have to really, really pay attention to them, I have to give them my undivided attention really, and I have to do this so I can better understand and anticipate their needs and desires.”

Heart racing, Celestia sought some meaningful metaphors in the words.

“Moon Rose and Flurry Heart trust me implicitly. This trust is a treasured thing, and due to recent events, I’ve learned how fragile and easily broken this trust is. I am one of the grown ups in their lives, a figure of mythical, or maybe worshipful love. They adore me and believe I can do no wrong, which makes me self-conscious about actual wrongdoing. In my dealings with them, I have learned to listen with great care, to pay more attention, and I’ve had to exercise my empathy so that I can act as the friend they believe me to be.”

Upon reaching this point, Celestia could feel her innards crawling.

“By learning how to cater to their special needs, by learning how to cultivate their trust, by learning how to be their friend, I’ve become a better friend to the adults around me. I listen more, at least I hope I do. I’m more attentive. I try to anticipate the needs of others. I am painfully aware of trust now, and how easily it can be broken. Flurry Heart and Moon Rose worship the ground I walk on, and believe me to be something better, something greater than I truly am. Because of this, they are vulnerable to me in ways that they might not be vulnerable to others. If I were to say, lie to them, or lose my temper, or be neglectful, I could really hurt them. Worse, I might damage their ability to trust and to make deep, personal connections with others.”

Closing her eyes, Celestia went still and focused upon the sound of Raven’s voice.

“I am blessed to be a part of their development as ponies, and everything I do now at this point in their lives will have long lasting effects upon them. I am their trusted uncle and I have an obligation to be the very best sort of pony I can be while they grow and develop. I guess this means I need to get my stuff together and sort out my own troubles, but that’s easier said than done. It is a process, I guess. For now, I am at the point in my life where I make a lot of mistakes and I do boneheaded things, but I don’t want to screw up being an uncle.”

The weight on Celestia’s heart grew worse.

Raven paused for a moment to rest her voice, and she looked away from the paper so that she might focus on something else for a time. Kibitz stood looking thoughtful, nodding his head, and Celestia, had she had her eyes open, would recognise his expression as one of approval, had she seen it. But alas, Celestia was lost in her own thoughts, her own worst fears come true, with Gosling having said everything that needed to be said through metaphor. He had undone her with pen, ink, and paper.

Gosling, a young pony that was perhaps a little too worshipful, had trusted in her and her goodness implicitly, and she had done much to damage that trust. He might have very well put his own name in every mention of Moon Rose or Flurry Heart… and she… the wise, older pony, had been neglectful. The gentle rebuke in the form of a letter was the sum of all of her fears and she braced herself, knowing that this wasn’t over. From the sound of it, Gosling was only warming up, and had driven home certain points multiple times.

She had most certainly impacted his future and might have damaged his potential.

“Ahem”—Raven cleared her throat, took a sip of tea, and then continued—“A pony does themselves a great disservice if they only seek out friends their own age. My own life has been enriched by having foals as friends. I have gained valuable insights and some much coveted wisdom by developing these relationships. It has changed my perception of the world, because I am required to see the world through their eyes if I wish to be a better friend to them. It forcibly pulls me out of my own headspace, and with all of the practice that I’ve had to do because of them, my other friendships have benefitted.”

“Such a good colt,” Kibitz said, making a gentle, polite interruption. “Such potential.”

“Indeed,” Raven agreed. Shuffling papers around, she placed the first behind the second and her eyes darted to and fro when she began reading. “I would be remiss though if I spoke only of the foals in my life, for I have also made friends with the elderly, the very oldest of the old, and I have had my horizons broadened.”

At this, Celestia’s eyelids flew open, fluttering like panicked butterflies in a hurricane.

While Celestia’s pupils narrowed to fine pinpricks, Raven continued: “In some ways, making friends with the elderly is even harder than it is with foals. The trouble with the elderly, as I see it, is that they are stubborn, set in their ways, and might perhaps think that there is nothing new to learn, nothing new under the sun that they haven’t already seen. They expect and demand respect, due to being elders, and tend to believe that by virtue of age alone, their words have weight and credence.”

Kibitz kept nodding, his mustache quivering, and his expression was one of intense thoughtfulness.

“This is dangerous thinking. As a teenager, I sometimes get the idea that I too, know everything, but in my dealings with Moon Rose and Flurry Heart, I have discovered that I have much to learn. I’ve had to humble myself and admit to myself that if I take a knowitall approach with them, I am going to make mistakes. Being aware of this has changed how I deal with the elderly and I am currently doing what is necessary so that I might be a better friend to both the young and old alike.”

Raven paused, turned her head, and glanced up at her contemporary. “Twilight should get a copy of this.”

“Indubitably.” Kibitz nodded and his mustache wiggled like a hungry caterpillar.

“There is a special old mare in my life, of indeterminable age, and the Canterlot Fire Department tells me I am forbidden from even attempting to cover her birthday cake with the appropriate number of candles for her age. They fear the ignition of a second sun, or the burning down of Canterlot. As such, I have been informed that any attempts towards this end will result in me being charged with domestic sabotage, arson, and a host of other charges.”

Kibitz, unable to help himself, began snickering.

“Trying to understand this elderly mare has made my life difficult. Honestly, she might be a touch senile, given how she speaks of hot, buttery ponies and has a skewed view on history. Listening to her stories leaves one disturbed, unsettled, and full of questions. Where you can be certain that a foal is just pretending or playing make-believe, it is quite difficult to discern what is real, what is fanciful, and what is a colourful yarn when dealing with those of advanced age.”

Raven’s sides were heaving, but she somehow persisted.

“Somehow, I will persevere; I will be a better pony for all of my trials and tribulations with the very young and the incredibly ancient. When dealing with them, I have committed myself to considering their needs before my own, and I do believe that my struggles will make me a better friend to ponies of all ages. With warmest sincerity, Gosling.”

With the letter over, Raven lost her professional composure completely and gave herself over to giggling. Kibitz—old, wise Kibitz—leaned up against his younger counterpart and the two shared a moment of mirth together. Emotionally gutted, Celestia tried to figure out what it was that she was feeling, because there was too much to feel all at once.

“Have Gosling brought to me at once,” Celestia said to her trusted assistants. “I wish to speak to him immediately.”

Author's Note

So... how much trouble did Gosling just get himself in? Is our rubber duckie pony in hot water?

This story is almost completed. I am sorting out the final chapters now.

Chapter 55

When Gosling entered the room, he did so with a smooth, easygoing confidence and grace. This was a lie, however; on the inside, Gosling was a wreck and Celestia knew it. A sad sense of pride overcame her and she tried to sort out her feelings for her student. He was a natural game player, he was really, and she admired him for his spirit. Gosling would keep up the act and the Winter Moon Festival really would be perfect. The illusion of a perfect, flawless, wonderful storybook marriage would be preserved in the public eye, with no hint of the ugliness that had gone on behind the scenes.

“You summoned me?” Gosling came to a halt and then took a moment to toss his head around, which left his mane messy. In his eye there was a ne'er-do-well’s twinkle, a mischievous gleam, and he wore his smirk like fine-polished armor.

Celestia wasted no time. “I received your friendship letter.”

“That’s wonderful,” he replied, “but I am not so sure if I am prepared to discuss what I’ve done just yet. But given how you’ve brought me here with irrefutable summons, I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

Right away, Celestia felt sorry. “I just wanted to see you. It has been a trying day. If you do not wish to speak of this right now, I can and will respect that.” As she was speaking, she saw Gosling slip up—surprise could be seen on his face, meaning that he wasn’t expecting to be let off the hook so easily. “We can forget about the letter for now and just enjoy one another’s company. If I may say one small thing, though… your point was made and I am proud of you for saying it so well.” Even more shock and surprise could be seen on Gosling’s face, and Celestia tried even harder to read him while so much was visible.

“If I may be honest, this is not the reaction I was expecting… I did what I did with the full intention of provoking you. I was being antagonistic and passive-aggressive. Which was wrong of me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation in therapy, where you cut loose about your sister’s passive-aggressive wheedling and how much it annoys you.”

“Well, I forgive you.” The words spilled out of Celestia’s mouth before she realised she was even saying them. “That letter was a masterstroke of taking me to task. You made your point. You’ve given me much to think about.”

Gosling bowed, a sincere gesture, an honest, warm action that filled Celestia with relief. Lately, his bows felt sarcastic, off-putting, done more for show than for actual reverence. So relieved was she, that she knew that she would never allow herself to take Gosling’s reverent actions for granted ever again. It was so reassuring to see Gosling back to his old ways that Celestia had trouble remembering what she wanted to speak to him about.

“It really messed me up…” Gosling made his confession while lifting his head. “After passing the letter off, I was terrified. I wanted to take it back. Even worse, I knew I only felt bad after I did it, after I committed to it. But while doing it, while writing it, I felt pretty darn good about it.” Reaching out with his wing, he rubbed the back of his neck, which left his mane even messier and left his feathers mussed.

“You’ve grown as a pony.” Celestia saw Gosling blushing and it filled her belly with warmth, the heat of springtime desires. She longed to groom Gosling’s ruffled feathers, to be close to him, to smell him, to feel him against her. Being as youthful as he was, it didn’t take much to stoke his fires, and what a fire Gosling had. In a decade or two, he would be a masterpiece of sexual artistry, a fine creation that titillated mind, body, and soul. But for now… youthful lust and eagerness would have to do.

“I must ask you a favour.” A bowing Gosling was a willing Gosling, and Celestia took a moment to choose how she handled this. While flattery was good, she chose a more direct approach. A blunt, crass, right-to-the-point approach. “How do I put this? I need you to schtup my sister. That is what the First Tribes say, correct?”

Gosling was too busy choking and spluttering to reply.

“The Winter Moon Festival is a night of joyful schtupping, and Luna is a pony in need of a good cum-schtuppance.” This made Gosling cough, but Celestia plowed on in the most earth pony manner possible, oblivious to her husband’s distress. “You really must trust me when I say that Luna needs a good lay to set her straight. Honestly, that really helps her mood and levels her out. And after this festival, she will be a randy little tart that won’t show her face in public for days—er, nights—after the fact, because she’ll be busy grinding everything she can wrap her hind legs around.”

For a moment, it sounded as though Gosling would hork up his own lungs.

“Think you can do me a solid? I know I don’t deserve it, but I thought I’d ask.”

Wheezing, Gosling’s bloodshot eyes conveyed his distress whilst he huffed and puffed. When he did speak, his smooth, suave voice was gone, and he sounded as though he had just been throttled. “What? No! I can’t! I don’t think Luna is ready and I’m not sure I am, either!”

After descending into the basement of her mind, Celestia hauled her honesty up the stairs and dusted it off. “You place too much emphasis upon the importance of sex, Gosling. It is something that happens. An act. Sometimes it is done for deep and meaningful reasons, and at other times, it is done to scratch an itch. We all do it for different reasons. You need to drop this pretense that you have about sex being a sacred institution—”

“But it is!” Gosling sputtered out the words and coughed again.

“Oh, come off it, Gosling. You can’t lie to me. I know how eager you are—”

“But I always try to make sure that your needs are met!”

“And for that, you are very sweet. Is that what you want to hear?”

Lips pressed tight together, Gosling said nothing, but his eyes flashed like moody thunderclouds.

“Gosling”—Celestia chose the shock and awe approach—“sometimes to break the ice, you need to bust a hymen.” Ignoring the cringing, cowering pegasus in front of her, she continued, “Luna will never, ever open up to you at the rate you are going. That is not the type of pony she is. She is physical first and foremost, and emotions are always an afterthought that comes later. Once Luna sees that you are attentive to her needs, she will open up to you. But first, you have to schtup her senseless. I need for you to step out of this comfort zone of yours and do that. Do her. With all of the youthful abandon that you can muster.”

Though his mouth opened, no words seemed forthcoming.

“Gosling, I’m not stupid. You’re trying to be the good son… the respectful colt that your mother raised. When we courted, you were noble, virtuous, and true. You waited for marriage. But now, you need to drop the act. Sex doesn’t have to be a reverent act of worship. Let it be dirty, messy, and have sex for the sake of sex. If you were pent up, out of sorts, and in need of release, I would oblige you if you needed a quickie. I would gladly give you a sixty-eight, Gosling—”

“I think you mean sixty-nine.” Shuddering, Gosling turned away.

“No, I meant sixty-eight.”

“I can’t take you seriously when you’re like this, Sunshine.” Then, after a moment he added, “What’s a sixty-eight? Dare I ask?”

“A sixty-eight is where I get you off and give you the relief you need, and you owe me one.”

“That just seems so… disrespectful. My Ma didn’t raise me that way.”

“Gosling…” Celestia took a moment to lick her teeth and lips, though she was not consciously trying to be seductive. She was actually worried, because she couldn’t get a laugh from her husband. “I get to decide what is disrespectful. For me, this is one of my great pleasures. First, I get to get you off, which is exciting for me. I get to do things that drive you crazy, make you squirm, and I get to enjoy all of your reactions. Afterwards, I get to spend all day thinking about what you’ll do to me when you return the favour. For me, anticipation is the greatest of aphrodisiacs. By the time payback finally comes around, I’ve been simmering in my own juices all day. I’m ready.”

“You’s…”—Gosling gulped a few times, and failed to look Celestia in the eye while addressing her. “You’s a dirty girl.”

“With this hangup of yours”—here, Celestia paused and wondered if she was too harsh, too straightforward—“you are robbing me of a pleasure that I hold dear. I need you to be a sexual creature, Gosling. I need you to admit that you have wants, needs, and feelings… especially dirty wants, dirty needs, and dirty feelings. You need to drop the act, Gosling. It no longer impresses me.”

“Okay.”

This was not the response that Celestia expected to hear, not at all, and she failed to conceal the shocked expression that crept over her face.

“There’s a lot of pressure,” Gosling continued. He struggled to say more, but failed.

“I know.” Celestia found herself sighing, and feeling bad for Gosling. “I’m me, and you are you, and I just want to be a pony and you… you just want to worship your goddess and to be Sleet’s good son.”

“The pressure… I try to behave myself and to respect your body, because it is sacred—”

“Then that needs to end, Gosling. That will wreck our union.”

Looking very meek and foalish, the embarrassed pegasus nodded. “Okay.”

“If you come on strong, Luna will be receptive to your advances. Forget about your hangups, cease your worshipful behaviour, and try to think of Luna as a pony… like you did that day when you had your little outburst in the library tower. Let that part of you come back out again. Trust me, it won’t take much to engage Luna. Let the physical aspects of your relationship with her develop, and everything else will fall into place, I promise you.”

“It’s hard to trust you right now.” The muscles on Gosling’s neck tightened and his hooves shuffled against the floor. “Celestia… it’s even harder to trust myself. To be honest, a lot of my stress is because I am pent up. Especially now, since everything has happened. I’m hurt, frustrated, angry, and uh, well… in need of release.”

“Think of how Luna feels,” Celestia replied in a soft, soothing way. “She has all of the same needs that you do. Worse though, because of what the moon magic does to her reproductive demands. When she goes to raise the moon tonight, she is going to be a tortured soul… which is why I am asking you for help.”

“This feels skeevy… like I am taking advantage of Luna.”

“Oh, I am certain that Luna will be glad to take advantage of you.”

At this, the sooty, speckled pegasus became flustered, and Celestia loved him most when he was like this. She loved his conflict, his devout nature, his strict, unerring sense of right and wrong. The very fact that he hesitated, that he blushed, his every reaction warmed her heart and increased her affection for him by a magnitude.

Taking a deep breath, she then opened her mouth to give voice to her thoughts, but the gurgliest, most gnarly, most horrendous belch escaped, along with a gout of green dragonfire. A scroll snapped into existence mere inches from her teeth, and though she was startled, she caught it with her magic before it could fall.

Breaking the seal, she unrolled it and saw only a few scant words, a plea for help. Eyes darting from side to side, she read these words and felt a stirring in her heart. Flirting with Gosling and leaving him flustered would have to come later, because now was the time for action. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for a bit of exercise.

“Hurry, Gosling! We must away! I am an alicorn and as such, I have an obligation to make Hearth’s Warming miracles happen! Twilight and Trixie are in trouble and we need to act now if we are to save them! Prepare for duty! Luna must be summoned! Come with me, Gosling, and let us make miracles happen together!”

“Not gonna lie, that burp of yours was kinda sexy. It left me feeling a need. To see a mare burp like that—”

“Save that for tonight, Gosling! For now, we must away!”

Luna poofed into existence with an explosion of glittery sparks and in mere seconds, was adding her magic to Celestia’s to help tame the storm that besieged Canterlot. Much to the white alicorn’s surprise, Gosling handled himself well in this weather, his new larger wings carved through the demon wind with relative ease and his powerful, furious downstrokes kept him airborne.

Working as one, the two sisters were a force to be reckoned with, and they carved great chunks from the swirling maelstrom. Some of the storm had to be preserved, Ponyville and the surrounding regions needed the water from the snowmelt come spring, which was the reason why this feral storm was given free reign.

But now, Twilight and Trixie were in trouble. Since the blowout, Celestia’s relationship with Twilight had been a little strained, and this was just the right situation to help patch things up. A chance to show Twilight that she cared. This was an opportunity to show Twilight a little appreciation. And maybe even save Twilight’s life, because she had said she was leaving straightaway. Twilight was far too reckless and willing to gamble, which was both a wonderful and terrible thing when one was a princess.

“Huzzah! Cry havoc and do battle!” Luna cried, leaving a strange echo in the clouds.

Together, they made short work of the storm above Canterlot, while leaving everything below intact. As a trio, they circled Canterlot and while Celestia was worried, fearful for the lives of those she loved, Luna and Gosling were playful. Gosling dropped into the maelstrom below, like a pony diving into a pond, and then emerged streaming clouds behind him a moment later.

Much to Celestia’s relief, Gosling knew how to de-ice his wings, and he did so with magnificent flare, sending thousands of tiny ice shards shooting off in all directions, each of them glittering like diamonds in the sun. Once more, Gosling dipped down, and dragged his wing through the clouds. A moment later, when he lifted his wing, it was covered in snow, which he then slung at Luna.

“We’d beat thee for thine insolence, but such an act would infect Our hooves!” Luna made no effort to play fair, and used her magic to conjure snow, which she turned into a snowball. “Husband, thou art the rankest compound of villainous, nefarious smell that hast ever offended Our nostrils, thou cream faced loon! Thou art a boil, a plague sore upon one’s nethers!” Having hurled her insults, Luna too, threw her snowball.

Gosling ducked, and this left Luna in a fitful state.

“Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than We have in Our elbows! If only thou wert clean enough to spit upon! You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! We'll tickle your catastrophe!”

Sensing Twilight, Celestia felt an enormous lump in her throat when her most beloved student broke the surface; behind her were a mighty troup of pegasus ponies and together, they pulled a sleigh. It was a magnificent sight, and one that filled Celestia with hope for the future: her student and these brave pegasus ponies had risked their lives for a sleigh full of earth ponies. Of course, Trixie was among their number, but Celestia observed every act of nobility with every chance she got.

“Twilight!” Celestia shouted, almost using the Royal Canterlot Voice, just to make sure she could be heard clearly over the howling wind below. “You made it! You are cleared for approach!”

Avoiding yet another snowball hurled by Luna, Gosling swooped in close to the sleigh, and Celestia marvelled at his movement. Really, they needed to get out of the castle more and do a bit of flying together. Maybe do other things together, in the clouds, though Celestia did so enjoy her connection to the earth.

“Welcome to Canterlot,” Gosling said, shouting to be heard over the storm. “We apologise for the weather conditions, but a tough decision had to be made. Ponyville and the surrounding regions need the water, come the spring melt. But we cleared the skies up here for your arrival.”

The sleigh banked, turning towards Canterlot, and Celestia’s heart twinged in great pain when she heard terrified screams. Little ponies were so scared, so easily spooked, and this passel of ponies would need a chance to calm down. She would have to serve them cocoa, if she could get away with it, and they didn’t faint at her approach.

Perhaps Gosling was in too good a mood, because he was blowing raspberries at the feral storm below. Coasting, Gosling tucked his wings downward and extended both of his middle primaries at the storm, unaware that Luna was preparing a snowball surprise to catch him unawares. Since he wasn’t flapping his wings, he dipped down into the storm for a moment, vanishing, and just as his head broke the surface of the clouds, Luna readied her snowball.

“Gosling! Stop that! Stop taunting the blizzard! I swear, you and Luna are such a headache! Get back up here above storm level! Cease baiting the blizzard at once! Put down that snowball! Luna! I’ve had just about enough of both of your shenanigans!”

Luna’s pitch was successful, and Gosling was brained by her snowball. Giggling like a filly, she curled all of her body up into a tight ball and tucked her wings against her sides. “Cannonball!”

“Luna! NO! We have a job to do!” Too late, Celestia could do nothing whilst her sister cannonballed into the violent vortex down below. Little ponies were panicking! Suffering with terror! Little ponies were in need of comfort, but Luna and Gosling were acting like foals. Why couldn’t they give this job the seriousness it deserved? Why? Why must they be such pests?

After several long, tense seconds, Luna’s cloud-covered head broke the surface and she blew a mighty raspberry. Flapping her wings, she swam through the clouds and shouted, “Thou art a stodgy earth pony among the company of frollicking pegasi, and a mealy-faced fishwife as well! Huzzah! Our charges will arrive in Canterlot, secure and sound. Who are We that We should not have fun whilst performing Our duties?”

There would be words, but later. Later. For now, Celestia smiled and put on a good show to comfort her little ponies, while thinking of all of the dreadful things she would do to Gosling and Luna… later. It was difficult to keep her priorities in order, but her little ponies came first.

“We begin our final approach!” Twilight Sparkle’s jingle bell harness made a pleasant sound with each powerful downstroke of her wings and she had a reckless, lunatic grin upon her face. “Please ignore the poor example the Royal Family is providing and remember to obey and respect all proper flying safety regulations! Our landing might be a bit bumpy, but we should be fine! Hang on, everypony, here we go!”

Author's Note

Why yes, this did just happen in chapter 43 of Winter Break. Why do you ask?

Chapter 57

As Blueblood hurried off to look after some last minute security concerns, Celestia took a deep breath so that she might calm herself. For her, this was the most important event in a long time, perhaps even more important than the royal weddings that had taken place in Canterlot. This was Luna’s restoration, her return to fine form. Even with the recent disturbance, Luna was getting better, even if it was slow, gradual improvement. All signs pointed to some major change, some massive shift in power, and Luna’s recovery was paramount.

Luna’s stars were aligning; Twilight Sparkle had become a princess; Shining Armor was now a prince; Trixie Lulamoon had been restored and was recovering herself. These were good signs, but also fearful ones, because with every day that passed, the threat of danger grew greater. Wars were breaking out, major conflicts. The great nations of the world neared collapse and almost all of them were being ripped apart from within—yet hope abounded.

“Princess… can I bend your ear for a moment?”

Whirling about, Celestia faced her beloved former student and just behind dear Twilight was Trixie Lulamoon, who shied away from eye contact. Lost in her thoughts as she was, it took Celestia a moment to recover her senses and she stood there, aloof, distracted, and without response to Twilight’s question.

“That was a pretty important security briefing, wasn’t it?” Tail flicking, ears pricked, Twilight had bright, clear eyes that twinkled bright with keen intelligence. This mare was still the starry-eyed filly attending her first day at school.

Celestia blinked and Twilight was a filly once more, a wiggly, over-eager little chatterbox that had a million questions to ask but no time to listen. Getting Twilight to slow down and listen had been the first major accomplishment—proof that Twilight had the right temperament for bigger, better things. When she blinked again, Twilight was a grown mare once more and Celestia shook her head to clear her vision.

It was happening again.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked while she cocked her head off to one side, which caused her forelock to spill off to one side of her quizzical face. “Big night, I guess. Great big bunches of distractions. In some ways, this is more important than the Grand Galloping Gala.”

“It is, Twilight, it is.” Having found her voice, Celestia composed herself and transformed into a regal, noble alicorn that bore the weight of the world upon her withers.

“Trixie and I had a quick talk and she’s too afraid to say what’s on her mind, so I offered to talk to you, princess to princess. We both think that you should be the one to speak to Sumac about the concerns raised.”

“Why is that, Twilight?”

“Because…” Twilight let out a soft, almost amused wicker. “You’re the one who wants something from him. And this is kinda important. Maybe more than kinda. So since this is something that you want from him, you should speak to him yourself. Directly.”

“Twilight—”

“Forgive me for interrupting, but I’ll be super-blunt. Trixie is a real mess right now. She’s got a lot on her mind and not just the wedding tonight. She’s not okay… not at all. The abduction and everything else weighs heavily on her mind. A number of personal, private issues have left her on edge. And to be quite honest, the last thing she needs is the additional stress of trying to coerce her son to keep a secret of this importance. Especially since you protested the use of magic to simplify things. So… speaking princess to princess… I’d say this falls on you. You want to do things the hard way… then you get to be the one doing the hard work. You’re not passing this off on us.”

Adorable little Twilight had become a bit ruthless and this pleased Celestia a great deal. So much so that she smiled. “Very well, Twilight. I shall go and have a chat with Sumac.”

“Whew!” Twilight huffed. “That went better than I thought. I’m feeling lightheaded. I’m going to find me some tea or something. Be seeing ya, princess. Thanks.”

With that, Twilight departed, coaxing Trixie along beside her with her wing.

The illusion of perfection was difficult to maintain when one’s mind was heavy with thoughts and the knowledge of this gave Gosling a greater understanding of Luna. Secrets had to be kept, but now, with more souls knowing this secret, he was left jittery for reasons he had trouble putting into thoughts or words. For the first time, he had a strong understanding of why Celestia and Luna hadn’t told him, because he too, was feeling the anxious apprehension that came with others knowing.

It was almost too much to bear.

On top of it all, some poor colt was getting dragged into this for reasons that Gosling had trouble grasping. Sorcerer powers and magic senses. If anything, magic made things more complicated. Magic was trouble. A headache. Things always went wrong with magic, you could count on that, and most of the time, if magic was involved, things went wrong in the most spectacular of ways.

Frustrated, angry, and unable to express himself, he kicked the floor.

“Trouble, Goose?”

He did not turn around to face his friend, but stood in silence, stewing. “You were there, Seville. This is getting out of hoof. Sometimes, I really hate magic.”

“So says the pony married to two magical pony princesses.”

“Talked to Hotspur and Hush?” Gosling asked, ignoring the friendly swipe from his friend.

“Yeah.” This was accompanied by a bobbing nod that Gosling did not see. “Those mugs will be working security tonight. Hush’ll be invisible and Hotspur will be dressed up in ceremonial armor. He’s gonna freeze his balls off with all that metal.”

Turning about, Gosling cast his worried gaze upon his friend and managed a cocky half-smile. “Twilight will be here. I could arrange for another dance.” He knew he struck paydirt when his friend’s face darkened and Seville’s stare fell to the floor with an almost audible clatter. For a moment, Gosling almost pressed the issue, but changed his mind. “I have to meet with the earth pony Confessor. Want to join me? Might be a story.”

“Sure, Goose. I’ll be glad to come along and make sure you behave.”

“Why I oughta…” Gosling grinned a reckless grin and his eyes turned warm, bright, and merry. “This is a historic moment, Seville. We stand on the brink of greatness, you and I—”

“And I’m positive that you can find a way to mess it up, Goose.”

Throwing his head back, Gosling laughed and much of the tightness in his withers began to melt away.

He would be taken again. Celestia’s thoughts plagued her while she lingered just outside the door. With each abduction or attempt, the problem would grow worse. Word would spread of a sorcerer. Wizards with a penchant for power would find him irresistible. Equestria’s enemies would grow bold. Rogue alchemists would want to chop him up and process him, because a great many things could be made from the assorted bits and giblets of sorcerers.

The alternative was locking him away in some place of secluded safety. What sort of life was that? It was more than doing what was right for him—there were those around him to think about. Already, the changelings had come to Ponyville, and a harpy invasion as well. This was only the beginning and with time, others would grow bold as well. Celestia had seen it with her own eyes. She had witnessed the long march of history as it progressed, and never once had the world ever been kind to sorcerers.

It was the worst sort of blessing, one that suspiciously appeared to be a curse.

This was a problem with no apparent solution, no easy answer, there was no way of knowing what to do. If the colt lived free… trouble would come knocking. If locked away somewhere—such as the former queen known as Chrysalis who was secured in the bowels of Canterlot Castle—Sumac would be somewhat safer, but at the cost of misery. This conundrum worried Celestia, because she didn’t have an answer.

She was expected to have answers to everything.

Individual liberty and the rights of the individual were thoroughly modern concepts still taking root in society. For most, this was a phenomenon that had begun to take hold just this century and in Celestia’s eyes, was something still well within its infancy. There was a time when the right thing to do was clear and well-defined; seize the colt for the good of all and lock him away. The needs of one versus the needs of many and all that. It was something that Celestia struggled mightily with, because things had been more or less the same for untold generations and then all of a sudden, there was a big shake up that made all of society stand upon its collective head.

Now, doing the right thing, the necessary thing, had become distasteful at best, and a crime to be answered for at worst. Of course, this was her fault—she placed all of the blame for this misguided notion upon herself—because she had seeded the idea in the students of her school on a whim. It was, for all intents and purposes, a psychology experiment run amok and now, all these decades later, she couldn’t be sure if she liked the outcome. Stuffing the djinn back into the bottle might prove excruciatingly difficult.

But all of that was the past and Sumac… what to do with Sumac was the future.

Already, there were those who protested that such a powerful asset be left with a Lulamoon of all ponies, and that surely, a better family could be found for guardianship. Blueblood had quite a list of dissenters and had the paperwork of those who had lodged inquiries and requests. Alas, the Lulamoon name was mud and that wouldn’t change anytime soon, at least not this generation. Perhaps the next generation would be kinder… that is, if the family had a next generation.

Ensuring the family had a next generation would require meddling to the highest degree at this point, because Trixie Lulamoon was about to settle down with two mares to form a family. This was—at most—a complication, and a minor one at that. It was something that she was certain that she could fix; she owed Trixie that because the little blue mare had suffered mightily and would continue to suffer because she was a sorcerer’s guardian.

Shaking her head, she prepared for a fine theatrical performance as she pushed her way through the door…

A joyful expression was difficult to muster, but Celestia did her best, and she pranced as though the world wasn’t on fire. Light, airy, she almost bounced with each step, acting in defiance of gravity. Hyper-focused, she ignored everypony in the room and went right for Sumac, because acknowledging anypony else might break her rigid concentration. Cracks might show. Her real feelings might be revealed.

As for the sorcerer himself, he was sitting on a comfortable couch, minding his own business, and the poor little dear had no idea that the crushing weight of a terrible secret was about to be dumped upon him. He was cute, his mane was in dire need of combing, his pelt needed a brushing, and his befuddled, bespectacled face showed signs of having just woke up.

She didn’t like how thin he was; years of hard living, too much walking, and chronic deprivation had left him slight. But as slender as he was, there was a hardness to him that most foals lacked. He had, in fact, walked the length and breadth of Equestria. Those stubby little legs had seen some miles. This colt had strolled through monster-infested wilderness and had come back to civilisation intact, whole of body.

Brushing aside the pleasantries, Celestia got right to the point. “You and I need to have a private chat.”

“We do?”

The colt was now pleasantly confused and Celestia desperately wanted to hug him, because some foals were at their most adorable when bewildered. Sumac was certainly one of them. His glasses were askew and the fine hairs of his cheek were still matted flat from sleep. He was looking up at her, she was peering down at him, and there was so little fear to be found. Sumac was going to be a disturber of the peace, of this there could be no doubt. He lacked the fear that would keep him in line.

She offered up a nod of reassurance. “We do.”

“What about?” he asked, as if he was haggling over price, aloof as ever.

“Private stuff.”

For the first time, real fear could be seen in the colt. “What kind of private stuff?”

“Sorcerer stuff… and that is all I will say in front of the others.”

“Oh.” There was a loud gulp and Celestia could see the lump sliding along the thin, fragile skin of his throat, right about the spot where his frail little neck had been broken. “Sorcerer stuff. I thought I made it clear, I’m not joining the guard. I want to be a wacky wizard that can’t remember anything, a crackpot inventor that constantly gets exploded into hairy bits, and maybe a mortician. But I plan to keep my options open. No guard duties though.”

Celestia felt the grift magic slam into her like a freight train, an attempt to disarm her. Now, she struggled to contain a laugh; this was no mere mundane humour, but the colt’s words carried the crushing bludgeon of magic with each syllable, and his mouth had uttered many syllables. He was sincerely funny, he had a sharp wit to him, but the added magic would be downright devastating to most ponies. Sleet was snickering and sounded as though she was having trouble breathing. Lurking laughter threatened to tear Celestia apart and it became a contest of wills to hold everything in. His magic was far too strong and Celestia surmised that this potency manifested early in his life as a defense mechanism of sorts.

For a moment, the lightheadedness of fighting back the laughter was almost too much to bear…

“Come away with me, Sumac, so that we might talk.”

Author's Note

There is a lot going on in this chapter, and it becomes super revealing when compared to the corresponding Winter Break chapter where we see Celestia through Sumac's eyes.

Chapter 58

Luna appeared shaken, but Gosling wasn’t so sure it was just pre-show jitters. All of the tell-tale signs were present and accounted for, and the fact that he could now sense them gave him a sense of accomplishment. He started to say something, but the illusion vanished and Luna became her younger, gawky counterpart again. She gasped for air, like a swimmer finally breaking the surface, and then stood there, legs in a wide stance, her body in a most inelegant pose, her wings slapping against her sides from the force of her heaving.

Knowing that Luna was a fickle creature, Gosling gave her some space. Watching her drop the illusion and then react in such a way confused him, terrified him, it unnerved him in ways that he could not give voice to. The very fact that she needed to drop her illusion to deal with such emotion was disturbing, and he could not help but think of all of the times she hadn’t dropped the illusion, but had held everything in.

As awful as it was, this was a good sign, though Luna would exhaust herself by having to recast the complicated spell. It was draining to the extreme and though he understood very little of magic, his sympathy burned strong. Much to both his surprise and alarm, Luna advanced on him with great speed; before he could react, she was embracing him, clinging to him, and gushing tears. At first, he just stood there, too stunned to react, but sense and feeling returned to his leaden limbs. He slipped his wings around the weepy filly and did his best to comfort her, though he had no real idea what Luna found comforting.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, risking the floodgates, as well as the flood that lurked behind them. If he wasn’t careful, the waters could come and sweep him away. Perhaps it was because he was male, but Gosling found it difficult to deal with raw, hot emotion. Or maybe it was because he was emotionally immature and lacked exposure. It was impossible to tell.

The sobs that wracked Luna’s body made it impossible for her to respond, and she wept against Gosling’s neck, coughing out the most embarrassing of raspy, throaty honks. It occured to Gosling that this was the sort of vulnerable crying that fillies and mares did around those they trusted most, because it was just awful to witness. Just listening to it made him squirm and wish that he was elsewhere, because it really was just that terrible. There had to be some kind of fancy word for what he was feeling right now, the shared embarrassment, the shame, the complex swell of emotions that made him want to flee.

But being a stubborn creature bound by duty, Gosling remained rooted to the spot.

Though there was no window, Gosling could feel the sun dipping lower, that weird, peculiar feeling that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. Seville had said it was some kind of sympathetic magic, and that Gosling was becoming more attuned to his wives’ moods, which seemed reasonable enough, but he lacked a means to substantiate his friend’s claim.

The soft susurration of pelts rubbing against one another, accompanied by the faint swish of feathered wings, Gosling associated these sounds with comfort. He thought of his own mother, a clingy, affectionate creature, and with the sounds of Luna weeping loud in his ears, he wondered what sort of parent he might be. Parenting meant understanding how to care for something utterly helpless, something that depended upon you, and with this in mind, he thought about Luna’s special needs, her physicality.

“If you tell me what’s wrong, I’ll preen your wings for you so you’ll be a little more relaxed for what’s to come,” he offered while rubbing his neck against Luna’s.

“I spoke to Trixie…” Luna’s words were hitching, halting, hard for her to say. “It gutted me.”

“Do you feel better for having said it though?” he asked, his concern growing.

“Y-y-yes. I do. But it hurts. It hurts me so. I had to hold everything in… I had to be the matron they deserved and I’m not so sure that I am. But I put on a good show… I put on a good show because Trixie deserves better than what she is getting.”

Gosling found that he actually understood, and he began nodding. “It’s that recognition thing that you struggle with. That whole standing in your sister’s shadow and not being recognised for all the hard work you do in the dark. You see that in Trixie, don’t you? Twilight got the limelight, but I’m guessing you think that Trixie got the shaft. Am I right?”

“YES!” Luna blurted out, and she squeezed so hard that Gosling’s bones creaked almost to the point of breaking.

“You know, Luna… about that whole recognition thing…” He strained to speak now that violent waves of searing pain coursed through his body. This was a hazard of the job, so to speak, and though he said nothing about his hurt, he hoped that Luna—stuck in her current emotional state—would remember just how fragile he was compared to her. “Miss Loveletter wants me to find a way to praise you and give you recognition for all the things you do that others do not see, and she wants me to find a way to do this that isn’t patronising or treating you like a foal. And I gotta confess, I’m stumped.”

Sniffling, her eyes sodden and her eyelids puffy, she pulled away from Gosling to look him in the eye. Gosling gazed upon her, as if seeing her for the first time, and saw a creature that was the opposite of Celestia. Something in the back of his mind whispered that Luna, being the opposite of everything he loved in Celestia, might just be the sort of pony that got under his skin, the sort of pony he found irritating, maybe even unlikable, so he’d better hurry up and broaden his horizons. The very thought pummeled him and left his emotions in a raw, irritated state. The opposite of love wasn’t hate, was it?

She pulled back a little more, extended a wing, and said, “You can start by preening me. With actions, we can do more than words can say. I must confess, I crave your affections and your comforts right now.”

He almost said something in reply, something flirty, something canny, something that might have made Celestia blush and become flustered, but caught himself, and for now, he kept his mouth shut.

An expectant hush fell over the crowd while the sun dipped ever lower. Gosling was feeling pretty good about things. Luna seemed to be sorted out and she had recovered enough of herself to project her fun-loving persona. She stood beside him on the raised dais on his left, with Celestia on his right. It was cold, but the mood was such that nopony seemed to care. The crowd was far, far larger than expected, with most of them being earth ponies, though Canterlot’s elite could be seen scattered about.

Leaning over to his right, Gosling whispered, “You making loving easy, I just thought you should know that.”

To which the mare on his right replied out of the corner of her mouth, “Did you just call me easy, you brazen little peacock?”

The mare on his left suddenly had a contagious outbreak of the giggles, and Gosling found that he was infected almost immediately. Though a struggle, he tried to explain himself. “I meant to say… what I meant to say was that loving you is straightforward. You have simple needs—”

“And now you call me a simple mare,” said Celestia from the corner of her mouth once more. “I don’t know if I should feel flattered or insulted about my glorious lack of complexity.”

Now, the mare on his left was near to having fits, and she chortled almost to the point of coughing. The cold no longer stung his ears, because they were on fire, and Gosling, perhaps not the brightest of pegasus ponies, began to seek out a shovel so that he might dig himself in a little bit deeper. His problem, in no uncertain clinical terms, was that he was a poor judge of when to shut up.

“It wasn’t like the combination to the Royal Vault was hard to figure out,” he whispered, now also speaking from the corner of his mouth to the mare on his right. “A little to the left, a turn to the right, twist to the left, and then go right until you feel the tumbler pop. Oooh-oooh-aaah.”

A most curious reaction took place; Celestia became as pink as her scheduled sunset. It wasn’t a pale pink, no, but a lurid, temperamental pink, a capricious storm of profound pinkishness that caused the stray snowflakes in the breeze to sizzle into little curls of steam when they landed upon her.

It was in this condition that Celestia stepped away, made a gesture with her wing, and the band began to play. Luna too moved forward, leaving Gosling standing all alone, and the two sisters turned to face one another, with Luna still quite overcome with the giggles. The both of them had trouble looking one another in the eye, and there was a wry, secretive smile that graced Celestia’s pinkened muzzle.

The sisters bowed to one another, Celestia first, with a return bow from Luna, and what was supposed to be a solemn exchange had surely been ruined by Luna’s ceaseless, unstoppable giggling. Perhaps ruined was too harsh an outcome, because Gosling could see the impish mischief in Celestia’s eyes and he knew, he knew that she was enjoying this, because she liked it when social functions just so happened to become a little lively.

Both sisters danced, circling one another, their shod hooves clicking against the dais. An intricate series of movements called The Dance of the Celestials, a dance that had not been performed for about a thousand years or so. It was more than a dance, so much more, Gosling’s ears went rigid from the sound; each hoof striking the dais was done with metronome-precision and it was almost like the perfect mechanical tickings of a clock. When had the sisters even practiced? For surely such an act would require hours of practice, but they seemed to be doing this on a whim.

Even the heavens seemed synchronised with the dance; at last, the sun dipped down beyond the distant horizon, leaving the sky awash with the cold, blazing fires of winter. In the east, the sky purpled, darkened, and the achieved gloaming was absolute perfection. The band faded into a low background and when the pipers took over, a strange, haunting tune charged the atmosphere. Gosling had always found bagpipes to be irritating, annoying, but not now. At this moment, they were perfect, they were the only instrument that could possibly capture this mood, this orchestrated gloaming, this changing of the celestial guard.

An exchange took place in the skies as the hues of daylight surrendered, retreated, and the deepening purples and blues continued their solemn march. The dance continued, intricate movements, the clattering of hooves, extended wings made complicated gestures. It was, for Gosling as well as so many others, a restoration, a continuation of a time thought lost to history. For the First Tribes, this was the restoration of the Covenant, a concept that he barely understood, but through his efforts, his trials, he had reestablished.

Try as he might, he had trouble understanding just what he had done. It was too immense for him, too grand of scale, it went beyond just any one pony and he had help. Purple Party had a hoof in this, and so many others. Tears froze in the corners of his eyes and a dreadful tightness encircled his barrel, robbing him of breath. Not only had Luna returned, but the first real step to restoring the balance had been taken this night. Summer’s Sun and Winter’s Moon.

While day gave way to night, Gosling felt his faith renewed and a glimmer of understanding about his purpose teased his mind. He had been selfish with his faith, thinking only of his own beliefs and what they meant to him. In thoughtful repose, his heavy eyelids half-closed, he thought of those dreadful moments in the library tower when he had felt his faith flicker and come to the point of extinguishment.

He was a fool.

His purpose, his allotted task as Confessor, was to tend the flames of others, and in doing so, his own flame would be nurtured. Faith had to be restored, not just in Luna, but in the sisters as one entity, as a singular whole. Too much separation had taken place, too many ponies saw them as individuals, favouring one over the other, himself included. To accept one, but reject the other was to cast aside both. In a moment of perfect clarity, Gosling understood, and he did so in such a way that nothing else in his life had ever been this clear.

It was not enough to accept one; this was the test of faith. One had to accept both, wholly and completely. Closing his eyes, Gosling began to search his heart and was lost in the moment. For this to be done, he needed to grow as a pony, he needed to broaden his mind, expand his horizons, he needed to see as far as night was from the day. The pipes became a living drone in his ears while his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him, bring him down to his knees.

When he opened his eyes again, Gosling was not the pony he once was when he had closed them.

Author's Note

This felt good. So close to the ending now.

Chapter 59

Something had most certainly changed, for Gosling could no longer look at the sisters and see two ponies. Sure, there were two bodies, but these bodies were mere aspects of something fantastical, something bigger, something that was greater than the sum of its parts. While there was certainly some sense of individuality among them—he could not deny that—seeing them only as separate entities took away what made them special. His epiphany—profound as it was—had changed some fundamental aspect of his being.

He now understood Celestia’s secret, hidden resentment that she felt for her little ponies, her frustration, the source for her wellspring of ire. Rejecting Luna, or otherwise taking up a position of dislike for Luna, was also a rejection of Celestia as well. Though it might be his own pride or perhaps vanity manifesting, Gosling felt as though he understood something profound, something meaningful that other ponies did not. Did this make him special? Perhaps… perhaps not. Would it make him a better husband? He hoped so.

Though the party around him was lively, Gosling’s head wasn’t in it. Everypony was waiting for the moon rise, and afterwards, there would be a mass-wedding event that ponies seemed to be so enamoured with. Gosling wasn’t sure about what was so appealing about them, but mass-weddings were immensely popular. Maybe it had something to do with making a life-changing decision and having a crowd of like-minded ponies with you doing the same thing—perhaps it offered some courage, some resolve. Anonymity of the crowd? Something that satisfied herd instinct? If he was ever going to be a good ruler, he would need to figure out why ponies did what they did, so that he could make them do what they needed to do. Celestia had told him that a good ruler encourages their subjects to do what comes naturally, but this advice still seemed elusive to him.

Most ponies, when it came right down to it, would choose a course of action disastrous to them. They were short-sighted, thinking only of what they could have in the here and now. Even if their hearts were good, their decisions were bad. His ears pivoted in the direction of the band but his eyes remained distant, unfocused while he stood unmoving. At some point, without realising it, Gosling had grown up a fair bit.

“There is a room full of ponies that you could be strutting your stuff in front of, but you’re standing here with a blank look upon your face. Too much to drink already, Gosling?”

It took him a moment to register the voice and the breathy words that tickled his twitching ear. A wicker resonated deep within his barrel, and this was returned by the mare who stood beside him. He saw a flash of white from the corner of his eye and realised the husky voice speaking to him in a throaty whisper was Celestia. Turning his head, he looked up at her, blinking in his own slow way.

“Strange, I don’t smell the reek of orange-scented gin on your breath.” A smirk could be seen, but only for a moment before it retreated back into hiding. “But you do seem to have eaten a good number of those creamed garlic hors d'oeuvres. Tell me, my handsome pegasus, what troubles you?”

Words were hard. For lack of a better response, he gulped, then at a loss, he stood still, blinking and silent. Everything in his mind wanted to come out all at once and because of this, nothing would come out at all. Plus, there was something about Celestia that was especially fetching, but he couldn’t say what it was.

“I just spent five minutes scratching my behind against that griffon statue in the south wing. The texture of those stone feathers… divine. I highly recommend it if you ever get a chance. A good butt scratching clears the head like nothing else… except for maybe slow lazy nookie on cold rainy mornings when getting out of the bed is a chore.”

Ears pricking, Gosling’s eyes went wide for a time, and he only blinked when he felt the sting of his eyes drying out. Celestia was making this magnificent face, this conspiratorial look of smug thoughtfulness while she chewed upon her lower lip. She was… an enigma, this creature. Equal parts regal and silly. Having caught him while he was vulnerable, she was now having her way with him, and that was fine.

“Twilight came looking for me,” she continued, rolling her eyes in some grand, imperious way. “And that’s the second time that she’s found me scratching my behind against something scratchable. I swear, Twilight has a psychic twingle or has a knack for appearing at the most inopportune moments. And the way she looked at me… I think she forgets sometimes that I am a pony and I have pony needs. That look of horror. It sticks with you, Gosling, it does. Twilight is so expressive. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He wanted so badly to tell her about his epiphany, but words failed him.

“Little Twilight… she showed so much promise. Twilight had willpower, Gosling, and that’s a relatively rare trait in we equines.” The big mare nodded and her lips pursed in some thoughtful way. “The evolutionary biologists say it is because we’re a herd species. Willpower is counterproductive to our existence and individual will should be sublimated for the sake of the herd. This presents all manner of problems, you know, given how most magic is focused around willpower.”

Again, he blinked, almost startled by this magnificent creature lecturing him.

“But, I hear you saying, what about earth ponies? They’re stubborn. Well, I’ll tell you, being stubborn isn’t exactly about willpower. Sometimes, it is more about steadfast stupidity and standing boldly in the face of the world trying to tell you that you’re wrong. It’s all really quite funny, Gosling… unicorns… highly magical creatures… and unicorns come from a species that has a biological impediment that hobbles their willpower. Teaching my students magic is easy compared to teaching them willpower to direct that magic. Most of my students who struggle with magic don’t actually struggle with magic… it’s willpower. I just don’t know how to talk to the parents about it though, as no parent I know wants their offspring to be willful.”

Overwhelmed with horse-emotions, a soft whinnying wicker escaped from him.

After a soft rumble in return, as well as a tender nosing of his ear, Celestia kept going with her wise elucidations. “Your vacant expression intensifies, Gosling. I must say, I find you rather attractive in this state. So this is what it feels like to be a stallion in lust with a mindless maid.” A pause happened, it grew in length—very much like a stallion in lust with a mindless mare—and then the silence was broken by her girlish tittering.

“I thunk some great thoughts,” he said, only to immediately regret his words. Wincing, Gosling knew that there was no taking them back and that Celestia would seize upon this blunder with a quickness. The tittering turned into outright giggles, followed by laughter, and he could see her sides heaving.

Undaunted, he collected himself, his wing feathers fluffed out a bit, and he gave Celestia a bold look while he tried again. “I got to thinking and it really settled into my mind that you and Luna really are one pony with two bodies. I also got to thinking that if a pony rejects one of you, they reject both of you. Then I got to thinking that I have some growing up to do, because there are a lot of things about Luna that I just plain don’t like, and I need to sort stuff out so that I can accept you… both of you… as a whole.”

Celestia’s laughter died and all expression drained from her face, leaving behind an unreadable mask. She stared, and Gosling struggled to read something, anything, but there was nothing but her silence, which might have spoken volumes, but it was in a language that he couldn’t read. Did he mess up? Was she angry? Upset? Shocked? Her nostrils seemed as though they were made of stone at the moment, and there was nothing for him to gauge her current state of emotion.

“It is time, Gosling. Be a dear and make the announcement.” Every word spoken was in a monotone devoid of any clues that might give away her feelings.

Confused, Gosling shook it off. Celestia was cryptic, Luna even more so, and this was his lot in life. After taking a deep breath, he sashayed over to the microphone on the podium, took another deep breath, and summoned every bit of his charisma so that he could pour it into the crowd.

“It’s time.” The sound of his voice caused almost every head to turn, and there were more than a few pleased wickers and whinnies. Being the center of attention restored his shaken confidence and he managed one of his signature knee-weakening grins. “Please, be orderly and have courtesy for others when filing out of the exits. Tonight, the only crime is to spoil another’s good time. Please, come and join me for the moonrise.”

Hundreds of ponies were crammed into the tight confines of the gardens, with many more on the balconies and indoors, where it was warmer. It was cold, bitterly cold, but there was a certain warmth in standing together. Studying the crowd, Gosling saw a few pegasus ponies, some unicorns, but most in attendance were earth ponies. They had broad grins and starry eyes. A nearby brazier crackled and the fresh coals sputtered as they settled over the old embers.

Luna was almost—but not quite—a mess. Gosling saw her differently now. Beneath the illusion, she was a scared filly about his own age forced to deal with an expectant crowd. She was uncomfortable in her own skin, as most ponies his own age tended to be, and so much was demanded of her. But she was doing an admirable job of holding it all together. Was it because of the promise he had made? If so, that scared him a bit, and he could feel the pressure to deliver. Disappointing Luna after all of this fuss, stress, and worry, why, the very idea left him feeling unhinged. What if he couldn’t satisfy her?

The first time jitters left him feeling sweaty beneath the wings.

“Luna…”

She turned to face him, her lips stained a dark purple with wine, and he could not help but be impressed by the illusion. Her eyes were almost luminous, as if they were lit from within by fireflies, and each breath she took came out as rising curls of steam in the cold. When he looked at her, he felt something stirring within him, something stoked the fires of his heart. Something that was almost girlish seemed to pierce through the illusion.

He saw her through different eyes now and she was breathtaking.

“Not a soul will watch the moon rise tonight, Luna...”

She looked at him, her eyes curious, playful, and there was some trust as well. Her cheeks drew tight, her lips parted, and a brief flash of white teeth could be seen. Somehow, she knew that she was being flirted with, and was now batting her sooty eyelashes, waiting for him to continue, to hear whatever it was that he had to say next.

“Every eye will be on you, and only you. Even the moon pales in comparison to your beauty. This is your night, Luna. As your humble servant, it has been my pleasure and my privilege to make this happen.” Though he had more to say, he kept it short and bowed his head while making broad flourishes with both wings.

Eyes flashing, Luna’s tongue could be seen for a second when she licked her teeth. Giddy excitement could be seen and her wings quivered against her sides. She came forward with smooth, purposeful strides, leaned in close, and whispered some sweet, wine-scented words to him, “Preparest thine pelvis for the pleasures of the Night.”

He felt wings beneath his chin and his head was lifted. Before he could react, she kissed him, and this was quite unlike any kiss exchanged between them. There was nothing cautious about this kiss, nothing hesitant, nothing was held back. As the kiss intensified, the crowd erupted into cheering, hooting, whistling, hoof stomping, and praise. Just as the kiss had become unbearably hot, Luna bit his lower lip hard enough to make his dock twitch. The sweetness, followed by pain, left him woozy. When Luna pulled away, there was a crazed glaze in her eyes that frightened him a great deal.

“Go raise the moon, Luna,” he said, breathless.

Bathed in silver light that seemed to shine from every pore, she turned away from him with an enticing flick of her ethereal tail. Brilliant aetherfire blazed from her horn and brilliant starlight flowed from the tiny stars found in her mane and tail. He had tried to touch one once, only to find that it burned with cold fire even as his nose passed through it. Luna had been amused and her soft laughter from then echoed in his ears now.

The blue mare drew in a deep, shuddering breath, turned to face the crowd, spread her wings, and then, without flapping, she rose up into air, suspended by invisible, unfathomable strings. Though he had been angry with her, his heart told him now that he loved her, because he already loved a part of her. A wave of magic crashed over him like a physical force and he swayed while curious magical currents flowed through the feathers of his wings.

A hush fell over the crowd…

Author's Note

Next chapter: Gosling performs his royal duties. :trollestia:

Chapter 60

“Gosling!”

The sudden, unexpected outburst from Celestia almost made Gosling jump out of his skin and he just about dropped the wine glass wedged between his primaries. Sometimes, a pony could be too cheerful and enthusiastic. At least he hadn’t choked on his wine. Grinning, his teeth a ruddy mauve colour from the sweet, spiced wine, he turned about to address the pony that had called his name.

“Gosling, I need for you to perform your royal duties,” Celestia said, almost breathless.

“Right here? Right now? With everypony watching? Yous wanting everypony to see that face you make? ‘Cause I can make yous make that face right now if that’s what is needed from me. Let’s go. But first I need to find ye olden royal step-stool, ‘cause you’s kinda tall.”

At first, it was only Celestia’s nose that had turned pink, but like a rampaging fire, it spread. The pink blush crept up her muzzle, along her cheeks, gave her ears a healthy glow, and began to spread down her neck. When her wings clapped against her ribs, there was a soft rustle of feathers against silken hairs, and her hooves clicked against the ground while she shuffled in place. Little curls of steam rose from her back and wound their way into the night sky.

“You’re really pink, Princess Celestia,” Twilight said to her mentor in a matter-of-fact way.

“Twilight, please, please tell me that you didn’t hear all of that.” Celestia said this without turning around to face the smaller mare that had crept up behind her, unaware.

“I didn’t hear a thing—”

“Miss Sparkle, it’s impolite to lie.”

“But you told me to tell you…” Twilight held her composure a moment more, but then began to crumble like a cookie. She giggled, covered her mouth with her wing, and then giggled a little more while Celestia fumed and grew more flustered.

“Twilight—”

“Shall I go fetch ye olden royal step-stool?” Twilight offered, still giggling but clearly trying to be helpful.

A half-smile, half-smirk appeared upon Celestia’s face, and then, in an effort to hide it, she began chewing upon her bottom lip. Twilight’s giggles became titters and her wing still covered her mouth in a desperate attempt to be polite, even in these mortifying circumstances. Gosling, feeling pleased with himself, took a careful sip of wine while observing the faint, musky notes that now scented the air.

“Twilight, how much wine have you had to relax your inhibitions?” Celestia asked while the pink inferno raged.

“A half a glass,” Twilight replied, and the sound of her licking her lips could be heard from behind her wings. “It left me lightheaded. Come morning, I’ll probably curl up and die when I think about this, but right now, I’m having the time of my life.”

“Indeed, Twilight. I’m happy for you.”

“So you wanted Gosling to perform his royal duties.” As the smaller mare swayed on her hooves, more tittering escaped from Twilight when she attempted to restore the subject of conversation.

“Yes… yes I did.” Clucking her tongue, Celestia nibbled her lip, her sides expanded and contracted like bellows, all while her breath whooshed from her flaring nostrils. “Gosling, I need for you to perform the marriage ceremony. You need the experience and with tonight’s… relaxed atmosphere, any mistakes or blunders you might make can be smoothed over. It’s an ideal time to spread your wings a bit, Gosling.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing. How do I marry somepony?”

“Says the pretty pegasus that married two ponies,” Twilight said, her natural snark escaping through her wine-relaxed lips. “Ah, the look on your face, Gosling. That panicked expression is priceless. So expressive.”

Now it was Gosling that shuffled about on his hooves and Celestia’s tittering joined Twilight’s, forming a harmonious chorus. Putting on a brave face, he glanced at both of the mares having a bit of fun at his expense, and tried to think of some way to get out of this. He didn’t mind public speaking, that wasn’t the problem at all. Rather, marriage was important. It was something of deep, profound meaning to him, and he was totally unprepared for such a solemn ceremony. To wing it was unthinkable.

“I’m a pretty, pretty pony princess!” Twilight blurted out, with no warning whatsoever.

“Yes you are, Twilight,” Celestia said in response without skipping a beat. When next she spoke, her tone was one of foalish baby-talk. “Who’s a pretty pony princess?”

“I am!” Twilight cried out in a sing-song voice whilst she pranced about in a circle. “Woohoo!”

The pressure already settling in, Gosling finished off the wine in his glass with a single gulp.

It was with great apprehension that Gosling faced the crowd and he found this anxiety unsettling. He liked being the center of attention, he loved the adoration of the crowd, but this was something meaningful for him, something deep and profound. He was utterly uncertain of how he felt about mass-weddings. A marriage was supposed to be intimate and this… this was anything but. How could a pony hear their own thoughts above this ruckus?

He thought about his earlier conversation with Celestia in regard to his attitude about sex, and realised this was a natural extension of that chit-chat. This… this was beyond his comfort zone, and while it was something that he would never do, others had come here with the express purpose of getting married, for whatever reasons they had. This was important and meaningful for them and Gosling concluded that his own feelings were irrelevant. After a bit of thinking, some of his apprehension eased and he felt better about what it was that he was doing.

Turning, he saw Celestia waiting in the wings, nodding at him with an encouraging smile. Luna too, was grinning, but hers was more predatory and unsettling. Celestia wanted stability and a foal-boom eleven months from now, while Luna, clearly she wanted something interesting to happen. Luna wanted excitement, even if it was at his expense. Mouth dry, his teeth lacking moisture, Gosling’s tongue flailed around in a vain attempt to moisten everything.

Knowing that his Broncs accent would be a detriment, Gosling decided to throw himself upon the mercy of the crowd and chose his foal-maker voice, which he thought was equal parts regal and seductive. Tonight, he would woo the crowd and give them a ceremony to remember. Clearing his throat, he steeled his nerves and took a step closer to the microphone, but not too close.

What came out of him was smooth, buttery, and knee-weakening. “We’re going to have to take this show on the road.” His words had a profound effect upon the crowd and every ear that could be seen pricked to listen. “I bet Manehattan would be a kickin’ place to raise the moon… or maybe even Ponyville—”

The roar that followed overpowered his efforts to speak and Gosling went silent while the crowd went wild. He might have poured it on a little too thick, but that was okay. Tonight was a special night, a night for excess and hedonistic debauchery. There was hooting, there was hollering, and much hoof-stomping, enough to cause the ground to tremble. Overexcited earth ponies caused the very bedrock of Canterlot to quake.

It took awhile for the crowd to behave themselves once more, and when they finally did, he continued, “So tell me, you fine, fine ponies… how would you like for me to marry you?” Even as he said it, he knew he had screwed up—he’d really stuck his hoof in the meadow muffins now. When he heard great whoops of laughter coming from Luna’s direction, his ears fell into a submissive pose and he stood there, sheepish. He doubted if he could have done any worse as an opener, but at least the crowd loved it.

“Words are hard, okay?” To earn forgiveness, Gosling did his crowd-wooing best and poured on the charm. “Did I ever mess that up. Bed’s gonna be crowded later. Standing room only—”

A mare in the front row hollered, “LEWD!”

Waggling his eyebrows, he chose a flippant reply. “I know, right?” Then, his muzzle close to the microphone, he performed the sexiest inhale he could muster, the sound of which caused quite a reaction to spread like wildfire through the crowd. Only flirting could save him now.

A few yards away, Luna was in tears and laughing fit to split. She appeared to be suffering physical pain and was wiping at her eyes with her foreleg. Even Celestia was laughing—Gosling knew it to be relieved laughter—and in hearing it, he too was relieved, because he had the crowd under control.

“Well, now that I’ve made a colossal fool out of myself, we should talk about marriage. See, I’m here tonight as a student, and a part of my royal duties are the marriage of others. So this got sprung on me at the last moment. I’ve had no time to practice, nor rehearse, and I have no idea what I’m doing, as is clearly evidenced by my previous socially-inept solecism. At least, I think that counts as a solecism, because I’m pretty sure that it was my grammar that got me engaged to all of you fine ponies.”

When the crowd laughed, Gosling knew that he was doing okay. His honesty was endearing—so he hoped—and his vulnerability would make him relatable. With but a few words, he had shown himself as having a lot in common with these ponies; he could make mistakes and be embarrassed just like everypony else.

“There’s a lot of lovers here tonight. Don’t hide it, I can see the moon in your eyes. For that, I apologise, and I promise that I’ll make Luna behave herself.” The sudden roar of the crowd forced him to pause and his head bobbed in time to the hoof-stomping. When the time was right, he added, “Luna needs to learn to keep that to herself.”

The white one lost it. Celestia’s laughter caused the throng to go quiet, and many eyes witnessed the boisterous outburst of their daytime monarch. Sides heaving, Celestia struggled to breathe, her face was red, and tears rolled down from the corners of her eyes. A few brave ponies laughed first, and inspired by this act of courage, others in the crowd also began to laugh once more. As for Luna, she hadn’t stopped laughing, not even a little, even though the joke was made at her expense.

Emboldened by the laughter of the two sisters, he continued, “I understand that marriages should be a serious, solemn occasion, so I am probably blowing this.” Drawing in a deep breath, he chose a risque approach, because the crowd was just eating it up. “Just like how some of you are going to blow your first night of marital bliss. Probably going to be a lot of blowing in the days to follow. Am I right? Watch the teeth, ladies… and lords, I suppose.”

Tongue lolling out of her mouth, Luna had abandoned all pretext of princessly behaviour and was giggle-snorting with reckless abandon. She was happy, Luna was, and for this, Gosling was relieved. In just being himself, he had made this a special night, one to remember, and this sobered his mood just a little bit.

“All jokes aside, marriage is a serious subject.” Taking a deep breath, he inhaled through his nose, the cold air stinging his nostrils and lungs. “If things go wrong, get help. That’s what Princess Cadance is here for.” Extending a wing, he pointed in Cadance’s general direction. “Vows are pretty darn important and I think that you should keep them, even if it hurts sometimes. Yeah, I understand the complication in this, and I know things like abuse happens, and come morning, the papers are going to twist my words into pretzels… but you need to fight to keep those vows. Vows are what makes our great society strong. Everything begins and ends with the vows we keep. Vows to love one another, to have and to hold… especially that holding part. Vows to serve and protect. The vows that every guard takes. Just imagine what our society would be if we all disregarded our vows.”

The crowd gazed up at him, somewhat quieted, and he could see such adoration in their many eyes. Radiating as much sincere warmth and affection as he could muster, Gosling allowed his eyes to roam the crowd, meeting as many other eyes as possible. There was a lot of love in this crowd and Gosling suddenly had an inkling of what kept Celestia going during her darkest, bleakest moments. These ponies worshipped him, and he understood what he owed them in return. He was married to them in a way, and owed them much.

“Princess Cadance took a vow to help you keep your vows, just remember that.” Holding his head high, he allowed himself a smile once more. “Now, back to that ‘me marrying all of you at once’ part. Shall we get started?”

Author's Note

Those royal duties... :trollestia:

Chapter 61

Celestia seemed far too sombre for such a festive gala. Gosling watched her, studying her face, trying to read her mood, trying to understand this mysterious creature. Casting a quick glance to his left, he saw that Luna was dancing with Twilight, and the two of them were dancing as though nopony was looking. Satisfied that Luna was having a good time, he returned his attention to Celestia. Something about the way her mane was billowing about was off somehow, or maybe it was just the distant look in her eyes, the way that she wasn’t staring at anything in particular, just staring.

She was alone in a crowded room.

Adopting a dashing demeanour, Gosling saunter-sidled up beside his mate and when she failed to notice him, he bumped into her to jar her from her thoughts. Nearby, a glass ladle clunked against the punchbowl and raucous peals of laughter could be heard. A floor shuddering rumble resonated from deep within Celestia’s barrel and this was accompanied by a muffled, polite snort.

“What’s on your mind, Sunshine?”

“Equestria’s wealth,” she replied, leaving Gosling both puzzled and perplexed by her response. “I fear that I’m counting my chickens before they hatch. Perhaps that is not a good turn of phrase when little pegasus ponies are involved. Eleven months from now, when winter has left the land cold and lifeless, there will be a glut of births. Look at what we’ve done, Gosling… it’s like we’ve reproduced. All of your efforts to make tonight happen and this will be the payoff. Every life created is a vital asset to Equestria’s continued existence.”

“Everypony is having a good time and you’re thinking about the heavy stuff, Sunshine.”

“Gosling, this is my good time.” The big mare shuffled on her hooves and her golden shoes clanged against the floor like spoons dropped from the supper table. “Mister Mariner did incalculable damage to our nation. I’ve been fearful about our ability to recover. But then, tonight happened, and I was reminded of how much these little ponies love life… and making new life. They’re resilient, Gosling. Sometimes, I forget that.”

Now, it was Gosling who stared without looking at any one thing in particular. There were a lot of dancing couples—and even a few herds. For the first time, Gosling had trouble relating to them, and he knew why after a mere moment of thought. He was now responsible for them. It wasn’t that he was above them, but he was obligated to ensure their continued existence. This understanding was humbling, sobering, and now he too had a sombre expression.

“I think,” he began, his voice low while he spoke to his mate, “that every mother fears for the worst when her young scrape a knee or bang their heads on something. My mother certainly had her moments. I’d get hurt and she’d start yammering on about a trip to the doctor’s office. But, eventually, she’d calm down and remember that I could take my lumps. She’d be a bad mom if she didn’t worry about me, but she’d be a terrible mom if she kept me tucked beneath her wing all the time. At some point, I had to leave the nest, and that meant getting hurt.”

There was no response from Celestia, none that Gosling could discern. It occurred to him that whatever wise words he could think of saying, she had probably heard them or said them herself. Making things even more complicated, he was one of the ‘little ponies’ that Celestia fretted over, and he began to think about what that did to their relationship. There were moments when she treated him like a foal, or took a more maternal approach rather than a spousal approach. What was a spousal approach? He had no idea; he had neither been married long enough or had been an adult long enough to be certain.

Much to his dismay, he saw a potential spot of trouble in the road ahead.

It was hard for her and his brain screamed at him about this fact. She was the oldest and wisest of them all, and then every position she held only further encouraged a maternal bent—it was even demanded from her. It was even suggested in her title of ‘Matriarch.’ After a bit more thought, Gosling couldn’t imagine her any other way. She was an amazing teacher, not just to the many foals attending her school, but to him, Cadance, Shining Armor, Twilight, Blueblood, Raven—everypony currently in orbit around her. No life in proximity to her was left untouched. How many times had he seen her pace the floor, losing sleep and wondering how to help somepony?

No, to judge her would mean to become her, and that was impossible.

The best that he could do would be to follow her wise, patient instruction and to be her helpmate. To become whatever it was that she intended him to be. Not just for his own sake, but for those who might benefit from this, the little ponies that Celestia spent her life obsessing over. It was too fine a night to be so thoughtful, yet here he was, contemplating what he might become if he let go and allowed Celestia to guide him to some greater place, some greater state of being.

Unable to stop himself, he thought of all of his fellow guardsponies that she had sent to war. Seeing her as the matriarch that she was, he at last had some inkling, the barest hint of understanding of what suffering she endured sending them to war, throwing them into the meat grinder conflict. Celestia was not the pony that the public thought her to be. To the public, she was whatever her carefully crafted image demanded her to be, and ponies like Raven and Blueblood maintained her thespian’s guise. But Gosling, he knew different and sympathised with her suffering.

Holding his head a little higher, adopting a regal pose, he stood by her side, resolute.

While Twilight Sparkle suffered from the hammered hiccups that wracked her wine-soused body, Luna seemed to be intoxicated from something else entirely: the love of the crowd. This was her night and the limelight was all hers. She was laughing, giddy, affectionate, impish, and the room echoed with her bellowed blessings for the newlywed couples. Whatever fear that ponies had of Luna was gone—at least for tonight.

The same could be said of Luna as well; her hangups, her fears, worries, and doubts, all of them seemed cast aside for the night. She was free to be herself, to be boisterous, to behave in a perhaps untoward way, because decorum was one of the many things to be discarded this night. Luna was free to yell, “Beest thou most excellent to one another! Fronk one another frequently and without reservation! Excitest thine genitals against warm, eager recipients eager to take seed or give it!”

Luna, Celestia had said, was moon-drunk, Twilight was wine-drunk, and Cadance… Cadance was downright tipsy from the love of the gathered crowd. Gosling too felt something that was a lot like drunkenness, but he had no idea what it was. The sensation grew in intensity until it had permeated his every cell and now… he was in the mood to par-tay.

No longer content to brood beside Celestia, unfulfilled from hoof-gazing, he sashayed through the crowd, his backside swaying in a seductive, suggestive wiggle, and he beelined right for the second-prettiest pony in the room with the intention of establishing his dominance. It was a pegasus thing, and he didn’t expect for others to understand.

Getting right up into Cadance’s face, Gosling struck a pose, his wings out, his lips puckered and pouty, with his tail swishing from side to side to reveal his generous… assets. Cadance’s response was understandable: she grew aggressive and angry, as any pegasus would when so challenged. Her face turned a darker shade of pink and her eyes blazed with a fierce, competitive inner light. She inhaled, puffed out her barrel, and allowed her floofy chest scruffle to poof free. Cheeks bulging, she matched Gosling’s dominating pose with one of her own.

“Oh snap,” said Rainbow Dash from somewhere behind Gosling. “Everypony stay back!”

Cadance unfurled her wings, angled them so that the undersides were forward on display, crooked her neck off to the left, and tilted her head back so that her jaw formed a smooth, sloping curve with the line of her neck. This drew gasps from the crowd and there was a thunderous crack when Twilight Sparkle’s wings shattered the air around her with a supersonic whip-crack.

She was not the only one with rigid wings.

Wasting no time, Gosling went right for the good stuff. He chose a peacock fan display, raising his wings over his back until they met above his spine. Then, he flared each feather, spread each primary, and fluffed himself out as much as equinely possible until he had a perfect peacock display, which he shook and shuffled at Cadance in a most provocative way. Swaying from side to side, he flexed his flight muscles for all to see, causing them to twitch enticingly.

Shining Armor started to say something, to intervene, but Cadance shoved him aside with her wing while silencing him with a look. When she returned her gaze to Gosling, violence could be seen in her eyes, violence and mischief. A primal response had been invoked, but also something foalish, as this was the sort of buffoonery that pegasus foals got up to in the schoolyard.

Only this wasn’t the schoolyard; Gosling had chosen to throw down in socialite central.

Cadance’s wings bent and she stroked her sides, a sultry, evocative move that brought her femininity into play. She ran her wings reverse against her pelt, creating static and causing the hairs to stand out, making her look bigger, fuzzier, erasing her fine, distinct lines and blurring her outline. Tucking her head back, she caused her neck to swell while cooing in a dovelike manner. With her wings, she did the feather duster shuffle, which was not only visually appealing, but also had a soothing sound that caused many ears to prick in delight.

It wasn’t fair, having to compete with feminine wiles, but Gosling was resourceful. In a shameless display of vanity, he mimicked every single one of Cadance’s movements, fluffing himself out and even cooing to heighten the effect. Casting his masculinity aside, he perfectly produced the feminine pose and thoroughly enjoyed the flustered, peeved blush now seen on Cadance’s face. He had crossed the well-defended gender wall… and discovered the other side wasn’t so bad. He rather liked how he felt right now, how soft and pretty he was. His feminine side was pleasing to explore.

Just to further aggravate her, Gosling batted his eyelashes at Cadance.

Grunting, grinding her teeth together, Cadance joined the role-reversal, and adopted Gosling’s peacock fan display, a decidedly masculine gesture—peahens need not apply. She brought her full martial bearing out to play and even adopted a wide-legged stance that suggested that she was loaded down with equipment that she did not possess. Wide-eyed with terror, Shining Armor backed away while shaking his head from side to side.

“Cadance!” Celestia’s voice was almost screechy with some as of yet unknown emotion. “Stop that at once! ‘Tis most unbecoming! What are you doing?”

But Luna took a different stance upon the issue, and stepped forwards in support. “Maintainest thine own strength, mine niece, and fearest not the oppressors of gender!”

Gosling tried a come-hither display and plunged even further into his feminine exploration. He raised his wings up in front of his face, fanning them with smooth, inviting strokes, and peeked out from between his spread primaries whilst wearing his most exaggerated come-fronk-me face which could only be seen in brief snatches from behind his wings. It was the sort of move that would make almost any stallion present his pike for inspection and there was a lot of uncomfortable shuffling from the observers.

Celestia was rolling her eyes now while making a lemon-sour face.

“We art confused,” Luna announced for all to hear, “and We suffereth from a most curious and confounding arousal! Huzzah! Dance for Us, mine pretty pegasus, and moisten Our secret and unseen places!”

“I wish I knew what was going on—”

“No, Shining Armor, you don’t.” Celestia, still rolling her eyes, let out an exasperated sigh and then added, “This will all be front-page headlines tomorrow, I just know it.”

“Yes, Luna’s moistness will get the big bold print—”

“Twilight, I am shocked!”

“So am I, Princess Celestia. What possessed me to say that?” Twilight punctuated her words with a hiccup that was remarkably like a question mark, something that she alone was aware of in her current state of inebriation. “Speaking of moist—”

“No! No! I can’t listen to this!” With an explosion of glittery sparks, Shining Armor vanished just as Cadance reared up on her hind legs to do gyrating pelvic thrusts while pumping her wings with furious downstrokes.

“You can’t win, Gosling—”

“Says yous, Princess Busybody.”

“Yeah, my body is busy kicking your hindquarters into submission!”

“I wonder if I—”

“Twilight, no! Preserve your purity. Do not sully your public image like these two have.”

“But I—”

“No.”

“If I could only—”

“No.”

“But I wanna—”

“Twilight, dearest one, you are a terrible dancer and one shudders to think of what your plumage displays might do.”

“—Hiccup—”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“But I could be Twerklight Sparkle, Princess of Dancing!”

“Enough!” Celestia shouted, her wings unfurling from her sides. Smacking both Gosling and Cadance aside, almost bowling the smaller ponies right over, she moved between them and performed a plumage display so fantastical that it could not be described. Her wings wove hypnotic patterns in the air that mesmerised and captivated all who witnessed it, including Twilight Sparkle, who stood in cowed submission with her mouth hanging wide-open.

All who witnessed this display would never be able to say exactly what had happened, only that something had happened, something profound, something meaningful, something that had changed their lives forever, altering them in ways that they could not comprehend. The sight of Princess Celestia performing a lewd plumage display was forever seared into their retinas, imprinted into their grey matter, and etched into their very souls. Only Shining Armor, who had the good sense to depart, was spared.

As for Gosling and Cadance, the pair of them slunk away, heads down, tails tucked, and wings folded submissively against their sides. Both of them had been humbled and neither could contest Celestia’s dominance. For a time, shocked silence ruled the night, as not even the music dared to play, no doubt fearing the consequences of interruption. But then, riotous laughter filled the room: maniacal laughter, the laughter of lunacy. With her eyes rolled back into her head, her ears erect, and her uvula on display for all the world to see, Luna brayed with laughter while clutching at her sides with her wings.

The goddesses that dwelled atop the Canterhorn were in fine fettle this night.

Author's Note

Almost done.

Sorry, this would have been posted sooner, but I was stuck in telephone hell.

Chapter 62

After his humiliating and hilarious defeat, Gosling found that he needed a little air, so he relocated himself to a private balcony where the public was not allowed to venture. The gelid air had a terrific bite to it; it stung the eyes, burned the tender places, and left pin-prickles in the lungs. Something about the cold helped to clear his head, sharpen his senses, and gave him clarity. This was a night to remember and he wanted to commit every little detail to memory.

Though it was too soon to tell, he was pretty certain that he had made everypony happy—he had fulfilled his purpose, his very reason for existence, and he wondered if that was the source of the almost drunken feeling that he had right now. He had brought happiness to many, a great many lives had been forever touched by his actions and the ripple effects of what he had done were unimaginable.

But now—just like after having too much wine—he wanted only to clear his head.

He thought about Purple Party and how he had made an ally from an antagonist. This… this was an occasion where he had learned to throw his weight around in what was sure to be the right way, the proper way. He had demanded results, settled upon an outcome, and then strived to that end, allowing no one to impede his progress. It felt good—real good and he began to wonder what his next big project might be, because a prince should have projects. Celestia had made that clear, but she hadn’t given him a list or any recommendations. He alone was responsible for the creation of purposeful projects.

“There you are.”

With his eyes focused upon the twinkling lights of Canterlot, Gosling did not turn to look at Cadance as she approached. After a moment, she stood at the rail with him, her face dark, flushed with excitement, and she had a rather sweaty, disheveled look about her. Gosling was certain that he looked the same.

“You made this possible,” said Gosling to Cadance whilst she wiped her cheek with one wing. “I was just thinking about what I made possible to others, but now that you’re here, I see how this all goes back to you. Impressive, Cadance.”

“I saw potential. Something to work with. You made this possible, Gosling, by seeking out help. In therapy, great potential was seen within you. Just something for you to think about, Gosling.”

It was a lot to think about. During a broken moment of his life, he had reached out for help. At the time, he was ashamed to do so, because there was a stigma in asking for help, in being weak, and seeking out therapy made one the object of ridicule. Because he had dared to defy stigma and social norms, he was now in a position where not only had he received help, but he was helping others. A simple twist of fate. When taken in as a whole, all of it was perplexing.

“We’re friends, right?”

“Gosling, what a strange question. Of course we are.”

“Rivalries do bad things to pegasus ponies,” he said, explaining himself and his reasoning.

“I can’t think of a better pony to be rivals with,” she replied.

“It’s good to hear you say that, because I plan to help more ponies than you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll need it.”

“We’ll see, Princess Busybody.”

She snorted, laughed, and slipped one wing over Gosling’s back. Together they stood, looking down upon the lights of Canterlot, the very best of rivals. It was the best sort of rivalry, Gosling felt, because no matter who won, ‘twas the public who benefited. But he was going to need Cadance, because he already had plans. Yes, he had plans—but no real idea of how to go forward with them.

“What are we going to do about Mother Hen?” Cadance asked, her whisper low, secretive, and conspiratorial. “She crushed us without even trying. If we ever hope to beat her, we’ll need to step up our game.”

“I don’t think she can be beaten,” he replied.

“Pfft, you only say that because she’s old, immortal, and unconquerable. You and I, we’re young and stupid. That gives us an advantage. We’re too inexperienced and dumb to know that she can’t be beaten.”

Something about that logic pained Gosling’s mind and he cast a side-eye at Cadance.

“Practice every chance you get, Gosling, and I’ll do the same. Never give up on the dream. How’d she do that, anyhow? That thing with her wings… I think the old nag cheated and I’m a bit miffed about that. Yes… she clearly used alicorn displays. When next this happens, we’ll have to hold her to the rules and publicly shame her if she cheats. And she cheats, Gosling, make no mistake. That mare cheats same as you and I breathe. She’s the cheatingest cheater that ever did cheat.”

That couldn’t even be argued and he nodded.

“She even cheats at checkers. Trust me, I know. She hates to lose, Gosling.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure that Equestria continues to exist as a nation because of her cheating—”

“That’s no excuse!” Cadance stomped a hoof against the stone floor and all of her feathers ruffled. “But you do make an excellent point. In the future, Gosling, when we face off again, I’ll stick to pegasus displays. No magic, no illusion, no cheating. You and I, we’ll be honest rivals. Deal?”

“Deal.”

A third pony joined them on the balcony and she steamed like a lake in winter. Luna had a maniac grin and a lunatic gleam in her eyes as she approached the rail and came to stand beside Gosling. Lifting her wing, Cadance covered both of them, with Gosling now sandwiched in the middle. Below, the lights continued to twinkle. Ruling Canterlot meant keeping the lights on, if only because they were so beautiful to look at.

“You two have unfinished business to look after,” said Cadance in a matter-of-fact way. “This night is all about Luna’s return and restoration. Gosling, you have a job to do, so I’m going to leave you to it. I’m going to find Shining Armor and ask him how many times Celestia has beaten him at checkers.”

“She cheats,” Luna said, her voice quavering.

“We know,” Cadance responded.

“We do too,” Luna confessed. “Try being the little sister of that mountebank.”

Upon hearing this, Cadance’s eyes narrowed in a dangerous way, but after a few seconds of vivid pink pony intensity, she laughed. Luna too, laughed, but Gosling was silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t find this funny—he did—he just had no idea what a mountebank was and hadn’t heard the word before.

“Well, Gosling, have fun exploring the Moon and watch out which crater you go poking about in.” Laughing at her own joke, Cadance pulled away and folded her wing against her side. “Best of luck, both of you, and I wish you both the very best. I’ll be going now.”

Before Gosling could reply, Cadance vanished, and he was all alone with Luna.

Upon entering her aerie, Luna wasted no time and uncorked some wine. An inferno raged in the fireplace and Gosling couldn’t tell if it was real or not. As Luna set the bottle down, she shed her illusion and became herself, which helped put him at ease, but he was still nervous. Performance anxiety was a terrible thing to labour beneath, and he hated it even as he enjoyed the challenge.

“I’m having second thoughts,” Luna said while the bottle of wine hovered near her muzzle. Her hooves scraped against the stone as she turned around to face Gosling and her sweaty face was full of warm concern. “What you’re doing is appreciated, but I am not sure that I want to help you compromise your own values. It is beautiful, in a way, how you chase after meaning and virtue. It’s also rather annoying, but I do find it endearing, regardless.”

At a loss for words, Gosling didn’t know what to say, and he hadn’t expected this. He watched as she drank from the bottle and thought about kisses made sweet with wine. She was beautiful, in the way that fillies his own age could be beautiful, though he could not say how or why it was. It was a sort of vulnerable beauty that came with pimples and imperfections, but this vulnerability also made it desirable. Feeling a growing lump in his throat, he swallowed.

“Look at you… all virtuous and courtly. You strive for meaning with every breath you take. I’ve seen thousands of your kind die on the battlefield, and almost all of them said my name as their last dying utterance. But you… there’s something different about you. You’re earnest about all of this. It’s not an act or a ploy or something you do in public while engaging in reprehensible activities in private. And so here you are, come to do your duty, willing to sacrifice your ideals so I can have a bit of sweaty fun.”

“We made a bargain,” he said, feeling the need to defend his actions, “and I’m keeping my end of it. As your husband, it’s about time I look after you as my wife.” These words didn’t quite come out as he had hoped, and he cringed, wishing he had said something better.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that somepony came here to get laid—”

“Don’t!”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Don’t ever question my integrity. I’m fine with your jokes, your teasing, and everything else, but don’t you ever slight my integrity. I’ll not stand for it.”

For a moment, Luna’s eyes flashed with anger, but then her expression softened and with a nod, she apologised. “You’re right. There’s that earnestness I was just talking about. I’m sorry, it was meant in fun. I was trying to lighten the mood.” Her ears pinned back in a rare display of submission and the bottle of wine trembled in the glittery blue glow of her magic. “For others in this situation, I would suspect their motivations to be born of lust even as their lips fall back on words of virtue. But not you. I was wrong to impune your honour, even in jest.”

Though still irked, Gosling could not help but feel mollified by Luna’s words. No doubt, she was using her eons of experience in diplomacy against him, brandishing it about like a sword, but that was okay. That was allowed. He chose to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe in her sincerity, because she believed in his.

“I don’t know what to make of you,” Luna whispered while she approached. “You’re quite unlike any other pony I’ve ever known. At times, you’ve annoyed me with your churlishness, but then you do things that impress me. I am not a pony that is easily swayed or impressed by much, and I think you know this, so you must also know that this is not base flattery or appeasement.”

For a pony who wanted physicality, Luna sure was talkative. She made no attempt to look him in the eye, no, she had dropped all pretense of propriety and was now eyeballing him with unabashed, naked desire. Her eyes went everywhere, in every direction, no doubt drinking in every detail, every speckle, every freckle, everything he had to offer that might be considered a feast to the eyes.

“I won’t do this to you,” she said, her voice thin and reedy. “This feels wrong. Immoral, somehow. As if I would be betraying a valued, loyal servant.”

“Let me save you,” he responded, falling back on a language that he knew that she understood. “I’m no great warrior, but I can save you from loneliness. That’s a dragon I can wrestle.”

“You’ve saved me from more than loneliness. You fail to give yourself credit.”

Confused, he gave her a blank stare, not comprehending.

“The darkness elemental…” Her words were pained and spoken through trembling lips pulled tight against her teeth with fear. “The only logical explanation that I have for that outcome must be your love for me. A love I’m not sure that I deserve. Tonight, I tried to coerce you so that my own selfish whims might be satisfied. And I almost went through with it, but my conscience raised its voice. It’s all because of tonight, Gosling.”

He blinked, not understanding, and before he could respond, Luna was already speaking, offering an explanation.

“Tonight, there was a moment… this feeling of happiness that I had not felt for so long. Since before the shadow took hold of my heart. At first, I dismissed it, thinking it had to be you and your influence. But as the night went on, as I saw the joy in my subjects, as I saw their merrymaking, my own happiness could not be denied. I felt the laughter again, and no small portion. For a time, I was as I was back then, before the shadow darkened my heart and cast doubt upon all I see. I felt a glimmer of this during my first Nightmare Night celebration, thanks to Twilight’s efforts, but tonight, it was a flood. And even if we do nothing, I want to be with you. Stay with me till the sunrise, Gosling.”

It was Luna’s turn to be wordy, so he chose the silent approach: he nodded.

“I like counting stars… and speckles. I would be more intimate and familiar with your speckles, if you would allow it.” Luna’s eyes darted in the direction of her bed and then zipped back to Gosling, though the angle of her eyes suggested that she was checking out his chest scruffle. After licking her lips, she took a long pull from her bottle of wine.

“Tonight, I had a lovely time. I felt like a princess again… not in my ability to lord over others and to rule them with bold commands… but to be worshipped and adored… to be loved by all... how it was before she shadow overcame me and poisoned my mind, heart, and soul. I want to be better, Gosling. I wish for things to be as they once were. If you wish to save me, make me whole once more. Give me equilibrium with my sister. Love us with equal passion, for We are One.”

That was a tall order, but he was confident that he could do that. He’d already started down the path. He understood—he understood and could act accordingly. It was just a matter of making them both happy in equal measure, and he could do that. He was born to do that. Purpose stretched before him and stretched beyond the horizon that he understood, leaving him with but one dreadful question that he dared not voice.

If he gave the sisters equilibrium, what would happen after he was gone?

Hours later…

These poor little ponies had partied themselves right into the ground, or the floor in this circumstance. It was now the third hour and like a pale white phantom, Celestia wandered the darkened ballroom, mindful not to step on any of her sleeping subjects. They slept in piles, some of them, while others slept in pairs, but not a one slept alone. It was a little cold in here, but that wasn’t so bad, because it made them cling to one another for warmth. Faint snores could be heard, among other somewhat more unmentionable sounds.

Come morning, there would be epic hangovers and a few ponies who might be surprised that they had wed. Celestia wished the best for them, even those who would suffer Surprised Nuptial Shock Syndrome. While she wandered through the room, she picked up glasses and other potentially sharp or dangerous things that might be trod upon by hungover, unaware ponies. She carefully removed the things that might hurt them, thinking that in this one instance, no real harm could be done by coddling them.

Celestia found the missing pony she was looking for and was forced to bite her lip so that she would not laugh. Twilight had vanished at some point during the night and the guard reported that she was not in her room. The reason why Twilight wasn’t in her room was because she was in the library, secure and secluded in a haphazardly constructed book fort. Clearly, Twilight had imbibed a little too much, and would no doubt scream come morning when she saw the shoddy book fort she had constructed.

It was tempting, to fix the book fort, to nudge everything into place until it met Twilight’s exacting standards, but what would be the fun in that? Impish mischievousness could be seen on Celestia’s face while she peered through the poorly constructed doorway at her former student. She was confident that the best parts of Twilight, the most delightful parts of her former student, these things would never change. Celestia wanted to see Twilight succeed, and she had, but there was a compelling desire to see more.

The idea of Twilight as a mother tickled Celestia to no end, because she had seen how Twilight was with Spike. Twilight as a mother would build book forts and would go on magical imaginative adventures. Of course, Twilight as a princess was equally satisfying and Celestia could live with that… if she had to. Eyes almost unblinking, she watched as her former student’s barrel rose and fell with each steady, shallow breath.

She wanted great things for Twilight, good things, a life full of challenges and rewards.

Overcome with inquisitive desire, Celestia crept up the long staircase that led to Luna’s aerie. She had to know. She had to know. Gosling had vanished from the party and had been sorely missed. Now, with dawn but a few hours away, Celestia had to know if things had worked out, if the deed had been done. Would Gosling back out? He might. The virtue-minded pegasus sought meaning in everything, including sex, something that was a cause for annoyance at times.

Luna might also back out. Celestia wondered if her sister might have second thoughts about despoiling Gosling’s moral virtue. Already, Celestia found herself second guessing herself and wondering if her advice to Gosling might have been a mistake. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, telling him to relax a little, to loosen up, to curb his need to find emotional meaning, but now, now she was having second thoughts. It felt right at the time, it did, really, but now? Now, in the darkest hours of the night, the hours just before dawn?

Everything felt wrong, no doubt due to some strange magic that the night possessed, the worrisome source of irritation that kept ponies up at all hours of the night, sleepless in their own beds, worried about things that they could not control, if they had said the right thing, if they had turned off the stove, and if they had secured the deadbolt before going to bed. It was a dreadful magic, so it was, and if she ever found the source of it, the cause of it, she would give it such a zapping.

Sneaking up the stairs, Celestia’s hooves made not a sound, nor did any other part of her. Maybe Luna and Gosling were talking—talking would be good. Those two had a lot to sort out. They were flinty against one another; Luna brought out Gosling’s aggression and Gosling, for his part, wasn’t afraid to give Luna the chewing out she sometimes so rightfully deserved. In short, they were good for one another, perhaps even perfect for one another if Cadance was to be believed, but getting them to lower their defenses and play nice with one another was the real trick.

As for her own relationship with Gosling, that was easy. It was easy to love Gosling, without reservation or complication. No doubt, Cadance had planned it that way, the sneaky pink little minx. Why, she and Gosling almost mirrored one another in all of the ways that mattered, with their shared gregarious personalities and jovial approaches to life. But as Celestia had problems with Luna, so too did Gosling, for many of the same reasons. Cadance had helpfully pointed this out long after Celestia had become aware of it herself.

Almost at Luna’s door, she paused, near frozen by the scent that tickled her nostrils. Vanilla, rich and strong, perfumed the air, leaving it sweet and fragrant. Oh. The cloying unmistakable scent left no reason to knock upon Luna’s door. With the overpowering scent came a flood of emotion, relief mostly, and joy, so much joy, but also fear, worry, and doubt.

Overcome, she leaned against the wall and when the first hitches of her barrel wracked her body, she almost cried with relief. More than anything, she wanted Luna’s loneliness and isolation to end—and with the musky scent of vanilla on the air, it had. Even though she had silenced herself with a spell to make not a sound, she still bit her lip to choke back sobs and to keep them from escaping.

The worst—and to Celestia, the most dreadful—aspect of Nightmare Moon’s dark taint were well on their way to being defeated, dispelled, stricken away. Luna would learn to love and trust again. Maybe she would forgive herself for past mistakes and dreadful actions. She had taken the most difficult, the most strenuous step, and was allowing herself to be loved again. Almost weeping, Celestia retreated from the door and knew that the sun would rise once more for her sister.

Backing down the stairs, somehow graceful in her emotional, overwrought state, Celestia cast a final glance at Luna’s door, which was now blurry and out of focus. The relief was overwhelming, overpowering, it went to the head like too much fine wine and stupefied all of Celestia’s senses. It was like tearing away a scab and letting the infection drain out.

The long, endless night was over, and the dawn would prove glorious.

Author's Note

And so... it ends.

Chapter 5

Dinner. Celestia made the reasonable assumption that sitting down to dinner together made them very much like any other family, just with a nicer table and silverware. Oh, and they ate together in a castle too, but it wasn’t that far fetched to assume that it wasn’t that different from an average family. Cadance and Shining Armor were here, with little Flurry in a chair like a big filly, though she needed a booster seat. Luna was present, sitting at the other end of the table, though she was rather sleepy looking, and Gosling was sitting just to Celestia’s right.

Sighing, Celestia wished others were present, but if wishes were fishes, they would all be griffons.

The hors d'oeuvres were coming out, and Celestia was eager to see them, so eager in fact that she craned her neck in very much the same manner as an over-excited foal. Flurry too, was wiggling about in her chair, and drumming her hooves against the edge of the table. Gosling was wrapped up in his cloak, though he had taken his hood down at the table.

A tray of delicious looking canapés was set down upon the table, and Celestia sighed with contentment. As far as hors d'oeuvres went, these were perfectly suitable, but she prefered the nights when the hors d'oeuvres doubled as mini-desserts. It was difficult, eating for four and trying to be princessly.

It was all she could do not to devour the entire tray of canapés and she waited for others to get some first, all while staring with longing at the tray just a few yards away from her. When the others had served themselves, Celestia lifted the entirety of the tray, levitated it over to where she sat, paying no mind to the stares of others, she set it down, and she began eating, thankful that it was good manners to stuff the entire canapé in, whole.

Little Flurry stared at her plate, looking both curious and disgusted, trying to figure out what this weird new food was. She reached out one dainty, tiny hoof, prodded the edge of her plate, and gave her mother an incredulous look.

“Brains?”

“How would you know what brains look like?” Cadance asked, with a note of exasperation in her voice.

“Daddy’s comic books?” Flurry did her best to look innocent.

Cadance made a sound and she glanced over at her husband. Luna began snickering. Shining Armor gave his wife a sheepish grin, revealing a row of perfect teeth. Flurry didn’t take her eyes off of her plate. Celestia found herself grinning, even though she was eating. Alas, poor Gosling, he stared at his food and did nothing.

“Flurry, those are sulfur shelf mushrooms… laetiporus gilbertsonii. Ponies call them tree brains. When they are young and tender, they are delicious when sautéd in butter and a little garlic.” Cadance looked tired, and her explanation lacked enthusiasm for the subject matter. It also did nothing to reassure Flurry, who continued to stare at her plate, much to her mother’s dismay.

“Cadance, dear, were you able to get some rest?” Celestia asked after she swallowed her food.

Lifting her head, Flurry’s ears stood up. “Mommy and Daddy wrestled and jumped on the bed,” she announced in a squeaky voice. Then she looked at her father and her face became as stern as a foal’s face could be. “Daddy was rough, Mommy was crying.”

A shade of pink, never before seen in nature or this plane of existence, manifested upon Cadance’s face. Celestia could see Cadance’s panic in the way she stared, pleading, begging with her eyes, but there was no way that this could be left alone. Luna was chortling, so much so that Celestia feared that her sister might choke.

“Shining Armor, what do you have to say for yourself?” Celestia asked, playing it straight, and she delighted in Cadance’s mortified expression. Shining squirmed in his seat, just like he did when he was a little colt. Not much had changed over the years, even though everything had changed. It seemed as though it was mere moments ago that Cadance and Shining Armor were both still foals, and she was lecturing them about snogging. Too much snogging led to chapped lips, and chapped lips were distracting in class.

The white alicorn sighed while cramming in multiple canapés at once and began chewing.

Flurry Heart stared at her father and Shining Armor stared at his daughter. Cadance hovered somewhere near the point of spontaneous combustion, and Luna was dangerously close to choking. Celestia’s most firm conviction held true—foals made everything better, and she couldn’t wait to have her own. It had been far too long. Chaos such as this was delightful.

“Mistah Goose, you wrestle Luna?” Flurry asked, giving Gosling an innocent, wide-eyed stare. “Hold her down and make her cry?”

A stream of crumbs and half-chewed food shot from Luna’s mouth, she coughed, and then she sputtered. The clouds that cast a pall over Gosling dissolved, and he began chuckling, shaking beneath his heavy cloak. Cadance covered her face with both front hooves, and Shining Armor was glad the attention was no longer focused upon him.

The first course had gone well.

Soup. At the moment, Celestia wanted to take the entire soup tureen and drink it dry. She was already feeling panicky, the soup bowls were too dainty, too small, it would be gone too soon and she would expire from starvation. Honestly, who thought a soup bowl that held a half a cup of soup was a good idea?

When the soup was ladled into her bowl, all of her muscles tensed, and when the single crouton was added, Celestia wanted to cry. She could eat a kitchen full of croutons right now, she wanted to eat, not sample. But she couldn’t cause a scene, not now, not after the table had started to quiet down.

“What is this?” Luna asked, eyeing her bowl. “It appears to be a bowl of poorly balanced humours.”

The unicorn server paused and one eyebrow raised. “Majesty, this is cream of cheese soup, with garlic. Tonight’s cheese is the finest Parlobarrony white, and it has been smoked to perfection. The garlic has been smoked as well, and the flavours involved compliment one another to the highest degree.”

“We shall take your word for it,” Luna replied, giving her floating crouton a dubious stare.

Turning, Celestia looked at Gosling, and she could see his distress. With no dextrous primaries, he had no means to hold a spoon. Feeling bad for him, she asked, “Gosling, do you want some help?”

Right away, she regretted it, and she noticed for the first time the tension in the room.

“I’m not a foal,” Gosling replied, and he stared down at his soup with a fierce, intense glare. After a moment, he looked up. “Where is my mother, anyhow?”

“She was worn out from looking after Flurry while I recovered.” Cadance lifted her head and looked at Gosling, her eyes both kind and worried. “She’s still pretty upset, Gosling, and she wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Hunching over, Gosling ducked his head down until his snoot was inches from his soup bowl, and he began to blow on it to cool it off.

The conversation needed a little careful herding to get it back to comfortable, if not happier territory, and Celestia took it upon herself to do so. “Well, the morning got off to a rough start, the afternoon was a little bumpy, but was everypony productive with what was left of the day?”

Nopony answered. The laughter from earlier seemed gone, and the mood had shifted. Celestia eyed her niece, Flurry, hoping the foal would cause some sort of mayhem, but Flurry looked half-awake at the moment, and on the verge of nodding off in her chair. Looking around, she saw Gosling lapping up his soup, which made her sigh. She didn’t mind him doing it, but why did he have to look so sad? It was awful.

Cadance, holding two spoons, was feeding both herself and Flurry, with the little filly too tired to fuss or resist. Shining Armor was stabbing his crouton, trying to break it in half, but really all he managed to do was make his soup slosh in his bowl. Luna, who might not have cared for how it looked, must have liked how it tasted, because her soup was already gone.

“Luna, I must ask you something.” Celestia turned to face her sister, and she looked into Luna’s eyes. “Tell me, Luna, why didn’t you give up little Moon Rose to the nurses and doctors? Why did you have to scare them so?”

For a brief second, Luna looked guilty, her ears sagged, but then she recoiled in anger. “We have Our reasons!”

“And that is what I am trying to discover,” Celestia said in a calm voice, trying to diffuse her sister’s choleric defiance.

Sensing that her professional help might be needed, Cadance interjected herself between the two sisters. “Total honesty is good. It helps when we understand each other’s motivations and gives us both understanding and insight into each other’s inner workings.”

“Cadance, please, I don’t think now is the time,” Shining Armor said as he gripped his wife’s fetlock with his own.

Now, Luna turned her ire upon Shining Armor. She glared at him with a fierce expression, her eyes narrowed, and both ears angled forwards over her face. “We find no fault with Cadance, Shining Armor, indeed, We find her help quite valuable. It is how We have been made better. Leave her be!”

“I didn’t mean anything by…” Shining Armor’s words lapsed into silence beneath Luna’s withering glare.

“Cadance has restored us to reason,” Luna continued, and she gestured at Gosling. “We have a friend… a very close friend. A friend who has saved Us. For this, We are most grateful.” Sucking in a deep breath, Luna turned to face her sister. “We wish that thou would trust Us, for We mean well. We could not let Moon Rose go alone. We had to remain close in the event that she might have gated in something else when the doctors made her sleep.”

Luna’s reasoning was sound, solid even, and Celestia found herself nodding. “You did right, sister, in keeping Moon Rose close. I didn’t mean to make you feel that I didn’t trust you, I just wanted to know your thoughts. I’m sorry.”

“We are sorry too, for Our outburst.” Lifting a napkin, Luna wiped her nose, though it was clean, and then she wiped her eyes. “It has been a long, difficult road out of Tartarus for Us. We want to be well, but it seems everypony is so suspicious of Us and Our motivations. It weighs heavily upon our spirit.”

Flurry Heart snorted as she snapped awake, startled, and soup ran down her fuzzy pink chin. Cadance didn’t skip a beat, she grabbed a napkin and went to work, still feeding herself. Shining Armor was looking at Luna, studying her, and Gosling had almost finished his soup. Celestia, a connoisseur of tension, could feel that some of it had dissipated, and her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of silverware clinking against fine porcelain.

Yep, they were a family, a completely normal family, with completely normal problems.

Tonight’s entrée was a fine vegetable lasagna, served with eggplant cutlets. Celestia couldn’t help but feel that her portion of lasagna was the size of a postage stamp, and a feeling of growing frustration welled up inside of her. She was starving and these tiny, dainty portions threatened to be her undoing.

Before she could even realise it, everything boiled over. Everything. The Moon Rose incident. Gosling losing his feathers. The pressures of ruling a country that teetered upon the brink of utter anarchy. Celestia looked down at her half finished plate of food and the edges of her vision grew red from fury.

“I NEED FOOD, DAMNIT! I AM A PREGNANT MARE WHO MOVES THE SUN AND KEEPS THE CELESTIAL BODIES IN MOTION! I DEMAND SUSTENANCE IN MEANINGFUL PORTIONS! SERVANTS, BRING ME A PROPER MEAL AT ONCE, THIS INSTANT, OR FACE BANISHMENT INTO THE RAT-INFESTED CELLARS!”

Gosling, unphased by Celestia’s outburst—though perhaps a bit deafened by the Royal Canterlot Voice—looked his wife in the eye with a wry, thoughtful expression. “Is yous going all Nightmare Noon on us, Sweetums? Do yous need a timeout?”

No sooner had the words left Gosling’s mouth, when Luna choked, coughed, and horked up a half-chewed bite of eggplant cutlet. She then exploded with laughter, whooping and wheezing, still coughing, and she banged on the table with her front hooves as she fought to keep breathing. Flurry Heart, terrified, blinked many times and looked around, trying to make sense of the situation.

Shining Armor got up, hurried around the table, and began beating Luna on the back, trying to clear her airway, because she sounded as though she was going to choke to death in between peals of laughter. Cadance looked absolutely stunned and her eyes were as wide as supper plates.

“You…” Celestia’s eyes narrowed and she looked down at the somewhat smaller pegasus who was her mate. “You… you did this to me. You and your pretty birdy antics caused this to happen.” Even as she said the words, she knew she wasn’t being reasonable, but she just couldn’t be bothered to care. Pushing her chair back, she then rose from where she was sitting, gave herself a shake, did her best to look majestic, and snorted while throwing her head back.

“I am leaving to sack the kitchens.” She spat the words out, revelling in her own anger. “And then later, Gosling, I am coming for you!” With nothing left to say, she stormed out of the room, her stomach growling, off in search of a proper meal.

Still wheezing, Luna looked at Gosling with panicked eyes. “Thou art a dead little pony. Alas, We shall miss thee, brave pegasus!”

Author's Note

And so begins the saga of Nightmare Noon and her endless, ravenous hunger.

Chapter 20

“Gosling, we’re going out to eat tonight,” Celestia said to her mate, informing him of the plan for supper. She watched as his face ran an entire gamut of emotion, from shock, surprise, fear, confusion, and then, at last, doubt. His quizzical expression caused her to start laughing, so much so that her wings tickled against her sides.

“Sunshine, that seems like a headache.”

Gosling’s naked wings moved beneath his sweater and Celestia could see his apprehension. Going out could be complicated, but there were means, and she was determined to go out for supper. “Oh, Gosling, there is still so much you don’t know. I suppose it is time to reveal a few more secrets.”

“Secrets?” One eyebrow lifted, which Celestia found quite charming.

Arousing too, but mostly charming.

“Gosling, tonight, we’ll not be going out as the Royal Pony Sisters and their Prince Consort.” A persistent giggle made Celestia’s voice a little shrill, and it took a lot of willpower not to laugh. Gosling appeared so very confused now, which made him adorable. There was still just a touch of his foalhood left to assist in such endeavours, such as looking young, innocent, or just plain confused. “Ah, here’s Luna, now we can discuss disguises.”

“Disguises?” Gosling asked.

Keeping a straight face while she drew near, Luna refrained from rolling her eyes, fearing further injury. No emotion showed and Luna wore a deadpan expression like a mask. Her horn flashed for a moment, which caused her body to bubble like boiling liquid, and then she shrank a greal deal. When the spell was completed, a tiny pale grey-blue filly now stood in Luna’s place.

“Hey, Mister, I’m lost. Can you help me find my mama?” the filly asked and she looked up at Gosling with big, innocent eyes.

“That’s a little creepy…” Retreating away from the filly, Gosling took a few steps backwards. “I’m not comfortable with this at all and I’m feeling really weirded out right now and I—”

Gosling went silent, gasping as the spell took hold of his body, and then he endured the change. There was a faint squeak, like a rubber duckie being squeezed, and Celestia laughed as the spell continued to transform the sometimes silly pegasus that she loved and adored. She wished that she had a camera, as she was certain that Gosling would be cute in any form he took.

“I feel really weird! And small! Why is everything so large? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

In Gosling’s place there was now a tiny earth pony colt, pale green, with a sunny yellow mane. Celestia felt herself gushing, her heart becoming warm and squishy. He was adorable at this size, and his look of confused panic brought a flood of maternal instincts. She sat down on the floor and watched as Gosling gave himself a thorough checking-out.

“Look what I found!” the filly crowed. “Can we keep him?”

“No,” Celestia responded, and the filly’s lip protruded in a pout. “He looks like trouble.”

A pegasus once more, Gosling turned a wary eye on Luna, who was an alicorn once more. Things had crossed a weirdness threshold for which he had not been prepared, for such was the danger of living with alicorns. He had been little once more, and seeing a much larger world all around him caused him some distress. It dawned upon him that the sisters could be anypony, from the common earth pony pulling a wagon to the most regal pegasus in the guard, or a curious unicorn student in the school.

“Yes,” Celestia said, as if she had read Gosling’s mind. “By the way, Luna is far, far better at this magic than I am. It’s not an illusion either, it’s actually something far more complicated. Her mastery of alteration is second to none.”

“I remember our wedding… and Stinkbug.” Gosling licked his lips and studied Luna’s face. “Everything felt wrong because I was still attracted to you,” he confessed. “I didn’t like the unnatural feeling of feeling attracted to a filly. Please, don’t ever do that to me ever again.”

“We are sorry,” Luna replied in a low voice. “You must have a strong attraction for Us, for it to shine through in such a manner.”

“Well… duh..” Gosling allowed himself a rare moment of absolute sarcasm with Luna, hoping it would drive his point home. “Look, I understand the boundaries. We’re friends. Really close friends and I respect that. These boundaries will hold. But I am a flesh and blood pegasus male, and of a young age with a mind screaming for a hook up. And you… you are hawt.” While speaking, he saw Luna’s cheeks turn purple. “With you being my best friend and my wife, my brain is still hopeful… if you get my meaning. I’m gonna fly me to the moon.” He waggled his eyebrows in time to his flirtatious words, and gave Luna a gentle, well-meaning smile.

Ears pivoting around, Celestia listened, but said nothing while her sister began to stammer. Luna recovered, her face now quite dark—as dark as the inky spots on her backside—and her ears were splayed out to the sides. Celestia took a step backwards, perhaps to give Luna and Gosling some much needed space. Flustered, unable to speak, Luna fell silent and gave the saucy pegasus a blank stare.

“So, what’s the plan?” Gosling asked.

Luna turned to look at her sister and posed a question: “Moonlight and Sunshine?”

To which Celestia replied with a serious nod, “Moonlight and Sunshine.”

When Gosling recovered his vision, the mares he knew were gone. Blinking, still half blind from the dazzling light show, he saw two unicorns, one a pale blue-ish grey, the other was the colour of a pretty pink rose. Both were significantly smaller than he was, which left Gosling in a somewhat excited state. His head whipped from one direction to another, trying to take every inch of them in, and he didn’t know which was which, or who was who.

“Woah, I think he’s gonna pull a neck muscle,” the pale blue-grey one said in a voice that was filled with grating gravel, a raspy, subdued deadpan.

“Like, oh my gosh, he’s so cute when he does that!” The pink one began to dance in place, and then, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

After licking his lips, Gosling pulled himself together. “Your voices—”

“All part of the illusion,” the pale blue-grey one said. “We’re talking normally and nothing has changed, nothing at all… nothing ever changes.” She punctuated her words with a bored-sounding sigh.

“So, Goth Girl and Valley Girl.” Towering over the two mares, Gosling went after the dark one with a wicked smile, moving with swift assurance. “I’m getting me some Goth Girl,” he announced, and before she could react, Gosling mounted her. He went no farther than that, other than rubbing her sides with his forelegs, and when she turned her head around to stare at him, he kissed her on the nose while resting his barrel on her back.

“Like, oh my gosh, the two of you are so cute together! Can I like, you know, take a picture! Oh, Moonlight Raven, you two are so totes adorbs! I can’t stand it!”

“She’ll be like this all night, Gosling. I recommend you stick something in Sunshine Smiles’ mouth to keep her occupied, or she’ll talk our ears off.” While Moonlight was speaking, the pink one’s mouth fell open and her eyes went wide with shock. “Go on, she won’t mind.”

“Oh, she’ll get her turn soon enough,” Gosling replied as he continued to live on the edge and he rubbed his snoot against whom he was certain was Luna. “But you… you’re just so very huggable right now, and little, and hey… don’t you trust me to behave myself?”

“No,” Moonlight Raven breathed the word, “I don’t trust myself. Now get off, you’re getting me all excited.” With a little buck, she slipped out from beneath Gosling, leaving him standing behind her with a self-satisfied confident grin. “Thank you, or whatever… for not taking that joke any farther than you did.”

“Like, you can totally come over here and mount me, Stud,” Sunshine Smiles said in a jubilant voice that bubbled with effervescent joy. “Like, I’m really small and I can be dominated, it’ll be like, totally great and awesome.”

“Woah, hold up.” Moonlight raised her hoof and shook her head. “We’re never going to make it out if we don’t focus. We need to disguise Gosling.” She watched while her sister began bumping Gosling’s barrel with her backside, trying to get him to respond, all the while making frustrated, needy snorts.

“Like, I get it, you like totally want food, but I have other needs,” Sunshine Smiles said as she began rubbing her pert, pink posteriour against Gosling’s leg, and the now much larger pegasus was laughing. “Don’t just stand there, like, do something. Do me! Why are you ignoring me! Come on, what’s it gonna take, Stud Muffin?”

“I take it the excitement is part of the illusion?” Gosling asked.

“No,” Moonlight responded, her voice creaking like an unoiled hinge. “This is just her natural lack of inhibitions shining through, unhindered and unfiltered. She’s gonna talk our ears off, you just wait and see.” Blinking once, she sighed, then shook her head. “This is the sister I remember from my foalhood. Only now, she is as perverted as she is obnoxious.”

“Like… whatever.” Squinting, Sunshine Smiles stuck her tongue out, and then grinned the biggest grin she could muster. “Tonight, I’m like, totally getting laid and it’s gonna be awesome.”

Shoving her sister aside, Moonlight began to examine Gosling with a strange, almost-sleepy stare, and her horn began glowing. Gosling stood still, not sure what was going on, and he ignored the fact that Celestia, now a much smaller pink unicorn mare, was grinding her dock against his leg, scratching who knew what sort of itch.

“Do you trust me?” Moonlight asked Gosling.

“Of course,” Gosling replied.

Motes of magic began to fly from Moonlight’s horn, and Gosling felt a peculiar sensation once more. It was disorienting, confusing, and most of the sensation seemed focused in his sides. There was a jarring moment when he realised that his wings were gone, and his body was changing, gaining bulk, growing larger and more muscular.

“Like, try saying my real name,” Sunshine Smiles said to Gosling.

“Sunshine Smiles,” Gosling replied as the magic continued to change him, and he looked both startled and surprised. “Wait, I tried to say Sunshine Smiles!”

“See, you can’t mess this up.” Moonlight Raven took a step backwards to check out her magical sculpting. “Straight Key. It’s best to have what you do best be a part of your persona. There is no finer telegraph operator.”

“You can like, mash my button and send a message to my brain!” Sunshine Smiles began to pronk around, causing her sunny-yellow mane to bob and bounce. “Oh my gosh, I can’t stand it, you made him really handsome, Sister! You’re like, one of those artists that makes those really juicy romance novel covers!”

Moonlight Raven stood there, staring straight ahead, offering no reaction whatsoever.

Gosling, now Straight Key, realised that he was an earth pony. A bit bigger, a bit bulkier, and he was now heavyset. His coat was a dark, sooty blue, and his short tail was a light, vibrant blue streaked with bright, vivid orange. He didn’t look all that bad, but he missed his wings, featherless though they might be. Still, he didn’t have to hide his shame, so this wasn’t all bad.

“Like, let’s go out, ‘cause, like, I’m starving!” Sunshine Smiles whined in a high-pitched, nasal, reedy voice that grated on the nerves of her companions.

“Straight Key, I will make you the Crowned Prince of Manehattan if you stick something in her mouth to make her be quiet,” Moonlight Raven offered while her sister pronked about with her tongue sticking out. “You know what needs to be done. All of it. In her mouth. I might even enjoy watching, or maybe I’ll just enjoy her being quiet.”

“Kinda mean, Goth Girl.” The change in Gosling’s voice made him pause, and he stood there, blinking, trying to become accustomed to the sound of his own voice. “I suppose this is you, unfiltered?”

“Whatever.” Moonlight let out a huff and her ears folded back. “I love her, I just can’t stand the sound of her voice. By the end of the night, you won’t be able to take another second, either.”

“We’re going out!” Sunshine squealed, and the ears of her companions twitched in pain.

Gosling picked up on one thing right away. Free from alicorn bodies, the two sisters were free to be themselves. They didn’t have to be regal, majestic, perfect alicorns. There were no expectations, no standards to live up to, they were just two common ponies, free to be themselves. They were happy in a way that he had never seen. Celestia—Sunshine Smiles—was unhinged and weird.

She was still reserved around others, maybe even a little shy, which made for an odd contrast. But around him and her sister, she was chatty, excitable, and a motormouth. It was strange to witness this contrast, to see how open and warm she could be around those she knew, but also how reserved and timid she was around those she didn’t. Even in this form, he didn’t understand her. She was a beautiful creature of contradictions that he found arousing and exciting.

As for Luna—Moonlight Raven—she was sarcastic, sardonic, playful… and far more affectionate of her sister even as she was spitting out acerbic barbs of caustic wit. There was a warmth there that he was unfamiliar with, and seeing it made him happy. Free of the heavy weight of the bodies that bore the crowns, the sisters were free to be themselves, unhindered, and he began to understand that this is how they would be, as themselves.

Being an alicorn was more than a state of body, it was a state of mind as well.

He walked between them, his hooves crunching in the ice and snow, and tried not to think about all of the hidden guards shadowing them. They were just a normal family, going out for the night to have a nice time and eat supper together. Already, he was making plans to do this more often, because in his own opinion, the sisters needed a break.

“Like, oh my gosh, everything is so pretty and I’m so happy!” Bouncing with a lighthearted step, the pink mare’s head turned from side to side, taking in everything around her. “This city is fit for a princess! It’s all so perfect and my companion is so handsome and I’m totally gonna get fronked tonight!”

“Whatever,” Moonlight deadpanned. “I’m happy for you. Now, where are we going for supper?”

“Like, I totally know a Windian place that was recommended to me by Rarity! It’s gonna be awesome! I’m gonna totally eat spicy food until I’m like all sweaty and gross, and it’s gonna be great!” Unable to keep herself contained, Sunshine Smiles began pronking in a circle around her two companions, her hooves crunching in the snow, and her scarf whipping in the wind. “I’m the luckiest pony in the whole wide world because I have my two best friends and we like, totally love one another, and this is gonna be the best night ever!”

So far, Gosling was inclined to agree.

Author's Note

Next chapter: Straight Key's discovery.

Chapter 56

Snowflakes clung to Gosling’s long eyelashes like desperate, jilted lovers and intermingled with the speckle-freckles on his back like uninvited—but not unwanted—party guests. He had been given but one instruction and he rose to the challenge like some punch-drunk prizefighter: be charming. Celestia had given this command so he would let the charisma flow like wine from an unstoppered bottle. Calling what he had charisma was an understatement of the worst kind; for what he had was pure, raw animal magnetism.

And for now, he would lay it on as thick as he dared.

“Ladies… gentleponies… but especially you fine looking ladies that give life to a party… welcome to Canterlot Castle. It is my exquisite pleasure to have you here today as my guests. Thank you for joining me, because I intend to make this a big deal. We’re making history tonight, all of us, and for all of you that came, for all of you that braved the storm, you have my most sincere and heartfelt thanks. Especially you ladies.” Because pretty words were never enough, he flirted with the crowd, all of them, and gave them the sauciest wink he could muster.

In doing so, he almost pulled a muscle.

A mare fainted, and as a guard rushed to assist her, ponies of both sexes swooned. Gosling took this as a good sign, he was doing something right, so he mustered up a little more to give a good show. He would not disappoint. This was his job now—charm the public. He fell back on every theatrical trick he could think of so that he would be the very best at what he did, and what he did was pretty.

“For all you fellas… do me a solid and see that your special somepony has a magical night to remember. Let’s make this the most magical night of the year. Can you help me?” Wearing a flirty, almost pouty smirk, he clucked his tongue while feathergunning the crowd in the cheesiest display of pegasus machismo in perhaps all of history.

When another mare fainted dead away, he heard a resigned sigh from Celestia, who then said, “Gosling, put those away before the hospital becomes overcrowded.” The big mare stepped forwards, unleashed her own charisma, and she smiled at the crowd, beaming like a ray of sunshine. “This is, indeed, a most important night, a celebration long overdue. Thank you, all of you, for coming to celebrate my sister’s sacred night. It means a great deal to me, and you have my gratitude.”

“The importance of the night was never forgotten, even if Princess Luna was.” A mare who did not look the least bit swoony stood in defiance of the rampant, devastating charisma on display. She sniffled, her nose a bit snotty, and her mane was whipped by the strong winds. “Why, as far back as I can remember as a filly, this was our night as earth ponies and it was more important to us than Hearth’s Warming.”

As for Luna, who had been mentioned, she had gone still as a statue.

Gosling could feel it; a silence was coming, something most dreaded and most feared by any public speaker. He thought of ways to combat it, to make noise, but not just any words would do. To banish silence effectively, one had to say something meaningful, or at least something relevant. Before he could say anything, Celestia rose to the challenge.

“Come inside, all of you, so that you can get warmed up. Have some hot cocoa. Please, sample our hospitality. You are our guests and we are so pleased to have you join with us on this most special of nights.”

Electric tension was heavy in the air and there was a sort of frantic energy that flowed through everything as all of the last-minute stuff was sorted out. Extradimensional closets were being stretched and expanded so additional guards could be positioned at key locations without being seen. Should trouble happen, the door would open and an impossible number of guards would come spilling out.

There was a sorcerer here in Canterlot and a massive public spectacle. Canterlot had a bad history with public spectacles, as evidenced by Prince Shining Armor and Princess Cadance’s wedding. Gosling’s own nuptials had gone off without a hitch, but this made everything worse because the expected attack never came as anticipated. All of the various martial guilds would be in attendance tonight, though not as guests, everything from the Guardian’s Guild to the Rat Catcher’s Guild, many of whom would be working under the guise of attendants and servants.

The Rat Catcher’s Guild ponies were just a bit off-putting. Something about them was a bit creepy, but then again, these were ponies that enjoyed long walks through the sewer and killed all manner of unspeakable horrors that festered down in the muck. Gosling wasn’t sure how to feel about them, but Luna spoke highly of them; heroes that did a great public service but that never had society’s appreciation for the vital work they did. Of course, he was no dummy—his mother hadn’t raised a featherbrain—and Gosling knew why Luna held them in such high esteem.

Without warning, Gosling found himself seized by magic and disoriented, he went from one place to another, dragged through the aether.

As he materialised into solid existence once more, he heard the frantic, muttered words, “I can’t do this. I can’t face them. I cannot bear their worshipful expressions and their submissive posturing. I cannot go through with tonight’s plans.”

Gosling could only describe Luna as naked, because she wore no illusion. He was in some dusty, cobwebby wine cellar that he had never seen before, someplace utterly unknown to him. The scent of old wood, mustiness, and Luna’s sweaty anxiousness tickled his nose. It was also dark, with the only light coming from Luna’s horn, which left her face pallid, wreathed in shadows. Outside of the narrow sphere of light, primordial darkness lurked, held at bay, waiting to devour.

“I can’t stop thinking about how I hurt you,” Luna continued, shaking her head from side to side while also stepping from one hind hoof to another. “Even worse, I still can’t fully understand why you were hurt… why you were so angry. Your perspective is so different from mine own. I keep thinking, and asking of myself, if I can’t understand you, if I cannot fathom your depths, then what business do I have with ruling? How do I serve my subjects if I do not understand them? I’m not like how I was… I am not the pony I used to be. The only thing I can think of is that the Elements of Harmony did something to me. Well, I know that they did something, but I am so different now from the pony that I once was that now I wonder if I’m a new pony altogether.”

Luna was sweating with anxious terror; rivulets ran down her ribs from beneath her wings and left wet streaks of darker, more saturated blue along her legs. She trembled and the soft rustle of feathers rubbing against damp hair could be heard. Even the light of her horn began to flicker, which cast ghostly shadows that haunted her reflective eyes.

“I feel awful about everything that’s happened between you and I.” The light from Luna’s horn grew a little dimmer. “Keeping secrets is what I do, for such is the nature of dreams. Dreams are such secretive things that do not wish to be revealed. I’ve become like that which I traffic with and more and more, I find it harder and harder to separate myself from my work. Gosling, there is so much doing and so much that needs to be done and I give myself over to it. So much so that I forget about the lives of others around me. I’ve dabbled in illusions and dreams for so long that I’ve slipped into comfortable complacency and half the time I treat the waking word like the dreaming world, with those in the waking world little more than passing fancy.”

So, what Luna was saying, in her own roundabout way, was that she needed friends to remind her of the real world. At least, this was how Gosling took it, and he thought of his conversation with Celestia earlier about how Luna was a physical creature. Was she slipping away from her physicality? It sounded that way, but he was hesitant to make assumptions. Slipping in and out and dreams sounded troubling and he could understand how reality might feel a little less copacetic when one dealt with the antithesis of what was real.

Their shared therapist had even mentioned that Luna needed a reminder of the living, though Gosling hadn’t understood what was meant at the time. Living an illusory life, a quixotic chimerical existence had utterly wrecked Luna’s perceptions of reality. Suffering a brilliant flash of insight, Gosling suspected that he knew the reason why Luna had fallen prey to the darkness elemental; she probably didn’t give it the proper, deserved credence as a threat. To battle such things, one first had to acknowledge them as being real and then steel one’s resolve.

At last, Gosling said something: “You know, you don’t make it easy to be your friend.”

This clearly wasn’t what Luna wanted to hear and when she began to fume, the sphere of light holding back the darkness shrank a little bit more. The despair and anxiety in her eyes was replaced by anger while her cheeks drew as tight as drum skins. Her ears pivoted forward, facing Gosling, and the sound of sweat dripping onto the dusty stone floor could hardly be heard over the deafening roar of silence.

Luna’s rebuke held the suggestion of acid: “You don’t make it easy to be lovers.”

Gosling’s head dropped, his neck forming a straight line with his spine and he studied Luna through narrowed eyes. This was… unexpected. Without realising it, his ears pinned back, giving him a submissive appearance, though he was feeling nothing of the sort. Trying to understand Luna was like trying to understand that book that Twilight had given him—impossible.

“My last husband, he gave me what I wanted. I went to him, he attended my needs, and then we parted and went our separate ways.” Luna’s words were a scratchy whisper, like stiff hairy spider legs scratching against the wooden wine casks stacked all around them. “But you… you and your contemptible virtue! This ironclad sense of duty that you have and all of your standards! Everything has to have meaning… everything must be poetic, perfect, and true. You hold yourself to these standards and expect everypony else to do the same. You and mine sister have that in common… and it makes both of you insufferable. There are times when I find the two of you loathsome.”

Rather than say anything, Gosling held his tongue and waited.

“There are times when I just need you but I don’t need your insufferable diatribes. With my last husband, he was at his best when he was huffing in mine ear and slobbering against mine neck. If for some reason he spoke too much I found other uses for his churlish tongue. He was rough-hewn, coarse, but he was tolerable because he was good at what he did. With you… I can’t even get near you without your constant need to converse. Even worse, you challenge me and I find that I cannot resist these provocations. Spending time with you is a dare and I detest how you get a rise out of me.”

“You don’t like being held accountable—”

“I hold others accountable!” Luna’s voice pealed through the confined space and caused Gosling’s ears to ring.

Unable to resist, Gosling pressed his advantage, but only after he pressed his nose against Luna’s. “You called me your lover. Well, sort of. Does this mean that you love me?” He thought of Cadance’s assignment and wondered if he stood a chance of completing it.

“No.” Luna’s blunt response was like a crack to the skull. “I am fond of you, no doubt. I am even infatuated with you, I’ll confess. And right now I am feeling guilty for bringing up the past and using it to hurt you. This is why I loathe you, Gosling, and my sister as well. Both of you are the most contemptible of ponies, with your standards and your virtues. Now I am going to be raking myself over the coals for hours because I tried to prey upon your insecurities and it was wrong of me to do so. How am I supposed to get my digs at you with this dreadful backlash?”

“Are Celestia and I really that much the same?” Gosling asked, his curiousity piqued.

“Annoyingly so, in some aspects.” Snorting, Luna pulled her nose away from Gosling’s and jerked her head back. “It is why the two of you get along so well.”

“Well then, Luna… what do you and I have in common? Perhaps we should spend some time trying to determine that.”

At this, Luna rolled her eyes and tossed her head about in a wild manner, disgusted.

“Just a little while ago, we were having fun playing in the storm—”

“It was an act, you nitwit!” For a second, the light from Luna’s horntip flared but then it flickered down to tolerable levels once more. “Putting on a good show for the public. It’s what I have to do. More illusion. I’m miserable, Gosling. Miserable. I’m so miserable and distressed about tonight that I keep having fantasies about running away to Maizteca and living with circus burros.”

“We could get tacos…”

For a moment, Luna’s stolid face was a stony mask, but it crumbled. The corners of her eyes crinkled, her nostrils flared wide, and the corners of her mouth kept getting pulled upwards while she struggled to scowl. Then, before Gosling could register what was going on, barking laughter came gushing out of Luna in a flood. It was the last thing he expected and he stood there, stunned, not knowing how to respond.

While he stood there, stunned by Luna’s laughter, he thought about the fun they had together. Movies. Games. Shenanigans. Larks. Chariot races. Thinking about those things, he realised that he and Luna got along best when there was action, and there was little being said. For him, it was a profound realisation, and he saw the stark truth in Celestia’s earlier words.

Emboldened, he made a move on Luna, swept her up in his wings, hauled her in, and before she could protest, he kissed her. There was resistance, lots of it, but when he trailed the tip of his tongue over her lips, said resistance turned into aggressive acceptance. She returned his embrace and her forehooves stomped against the dusty, cobwebby stones. When her lips parted, Gosling made his move, but she surprised him by chomping down on his lower lip.

It hurt—no mistake—and though she applied steady pressure she made no attempt to bite through. When she let go, his lip was throbbing, fiery, achy, but there was also pleasure to be had when her lips caressed the tender bitten place. He had learned something—she had shown him something—and so he reciprocated. Though fearful, hesitant, he bit her in return, applied a steady, but not cruel pressure, and was rewarded with an excited whinny.

With Luna hot and breathless, he pulled away, but only a little. Gazing into her eyes, he knew that it was now or never if he was going to commit himself to her. “Luna… Luna, I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes?” Her ears angled into an attentive, listening position.

His lip was hot and burny, but the heat burned even hotter in his groin and the inside of his thighs, which spasmed with excitement. “You go through with tonight and you give those ponies what they need—”

The dark shadow that crossed over the moon gave Gosling pause, but he gathered his courage.

“Do the right thing and I will be your slave for one night.”

Luna’s body went stiff and was now as unyielding as stone, which hardened around Gosling. He had the dreadful feeling that she could crush him right now, break every bone in his body. She could ruin him in ways that Cadance could not mend back together. His back was slick with sweat and the sensation of Luna’s feathers against the back of his neck left him itchy.

“What foolishness is this?” Luna closed the distance until only a hairsbreadth existed between them.

“We don’t have to talk… unless of course you want to. I will do what you ask… anything that you ask—within reason, of course. No obligations, no strings. This is me giving myself up for you and your needs.”

“But this goes against all of your principles.” Pale light seemed to retreat from Luna’s charcoal-coloured lashes. “I have seen your dreams, Gosling. Intercourse devoid of meaning is a terror for you. It is a charming quirk to say the very least, because let’s face it, for most colts and stallions in general, meaningless coitus is prefered. The only depth they seek is the hole in which they plunge themselves into.”

“I like it when you talk therapy,” Gosling whispered to his wife. “It feels so much more intellectual than cheap dirty talk.”

Again, Luna broke, and though there was a mighty struggle, she fell prey to a bad case of the titters. Gosling kissed her again, a quick peck on the corner of her mouth, and when their eyes met as he pulled away, their gazes lingered upon one another. Something had changed, Gosling was sure of it, but he wasn’t sure what. Did he lack the maturity to understand? Probably.

“And all I have to do is put on a good show tonight?”

He nodded, his mouth too dry to make words at the moment.

“Afterwards, you are mine to do with as I might please?”

Again, he nodded, terrified.

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Bargain accepted.”

Author's Note

A bargain struck...