Princess Celestia's Body Double: Setting Stage For Harmony

Chapters

Overture: History
Search: Sparklegust
Consequences: Aversion.
Overture: Love
Search: Discord
Consequences: Date.

Overture: History

“Brave Cresthorn! Long hast thy path been! through valleys of shadow, with the restless and deathless abound, through forests of treachery, with venom and rogues, has't thee been taken on thy quest! but he'd mine own asketh - what did grant thee the vitality of the corse, the clarity of the mind, the purity of will, through these traps of certain deaths to procede and prevail? What goal awaits thee at the end, o finest exemplar of Unicornian blood?”

From a platform far down below, a Unicorn garbed in bulky, highly radiant armor sang out his response, sending copious rays of multicolored light all over the place as he gestured enthusiastically. The white alicorn who stood on the balcony meters and meters above him hardly heard much of what he said, or listened, for that matter. The Veneraton of Cresthorn the Everquesting was, after all, a yearly event, and this was, by all accounts, the six hundred somethingth time she stood there, reciting these lines.

“So I understandeth! But bid me, gentle paladin, certes after a journey such as yours, would thee not wish to taketh a hero’s due reward? Mine own Royal authority has't so yond one as worthy as thee may liveth a woeless life, enrich'd with pleasure!”

The armored figure on the marble floors of Canterlot Towers’ central square stomped its armored hoof loudly. The orchestra sat at the corners of the scene came alive, with the honking of a single trumpet. The alicorn sighed ever so slightly in her mind. She couldn’t help wondering why nearly the entire first part of the celebration was more or less all music and no words, yet somewhere after Terrorfang was sealed in his cave with his own smelted hoard, the musical accompaniment all but died down. On that note, it seemed odd that the theatric society that organized this event could afford an objectively fifty percent useful orchestra - yet the actual fact that the dragon was gruesomely drowned and presumably buried alive in tonnes of molten silver and gold had to be narrated. By her, out of character, no less. Less extravagant music and a bit more care for the visual side of things, and maybe seeing about reverting that particular part of the story… Cresthorn, in the meantime, was done.

“Peradventure, then, f'r one of thy immaculate purity, I shalt giveth thee that the likes of which naught another pony hast ev'r hath heard! May thee grise into mine own altar and accept the sacr'd gift of the Elements of Harmony? F'r these art nay mere children’s fables, but artefacts of unparallell'd power, with which I f'r centuries did wish to endow one of purity such as yours!”

Cresthorn’s reply was not necessarily audible up where she stood, since unlike her, he wasn’t utilizing the Canterlot Royal Voice. It would have made better sense if he were, but the acoustics of the helmet that had been made for his role likely made that inadvisable. It was, in general, inadvisable. For anyone but her, obviously, so she pulled double duty in her replies. Not a big problem, really - there was no shame in admitting the fact that a lot of the spectators attended mostly to spend some time in her presence, even if she were all the way up on one of the Towers’ balconies, and the most they were able to see was her ethereal, sparkling mane. That allowed her to be rather unabashed about grinning and flexing, not as if even the hopefully squinting ones would be able to tell much apart, what with the Unicornian knight’s enchanted armor that was definitely getting toned down next year. She restrained herself for most of the play, she could as well do that now. Good thing this Cresthorn had some sort of hiccup and took longer to speak his line than Cresthorns normally did.

“If 't be true yond truly is thy desire, then I did bid thee farewell, dauntless warrior! On thine own adventures embark, and setteth right which thee see wrong, as thee has't anon mine own royal blessing! The travelling lamp shalt at each moment shine brightly upon thee, wherev'r thee march!”

As much as she adored the crowd’s own adoration, the truly good part was this one. This was what her knees were shaky with glee for. Some magic to do, for once! Genuine and legitimate, if prettied up for the occasion. Really, the attendees weren’t there for a lesson in Unicornian history, everyone knew the ending anyway, the attempt at suspense regarding the Elements being particularly pitiful for obvious reasons (them being effectively fairytales for all most knew). What they were here for was the solar light show. She could very well associate - that was why she was there as well. That, and, well, recite some quirky lines. Princesses got their fun where they could.

Her legs buckled, gracefully, and she bowed, bobbing her body back and forth rhythmically, a focusing prism of rainbow light accumulating at the tip of her swirling horn. With each bob, residual flashes erupted around her, orbiting around the balcony with luminous trails connecting them into a sort of aerial necklace. The orchestra below made itself worth having by accompanying each step of her channeling with appropriate sound effects, as if it wasn’t enriching enough on its own. Eventually, as the lightplay got more and more complex, with increasingly brighter and more colorful orbs waltzing in the air, she unfurled her wings. When her celestial illumination utterly dwarfed the knight’s enchanted armor, the alicorn let loose the final ray of brightness, soaring it through the sky and burning through a few clouds. She let out an inadvertent cackle of glee, kicking her hooves in the air. Despite opposing opinions, this was very much not a waste of time if she could leave the scene with that much of a bang.

All that considered, it was indeed time she left. Her part in the play was over, what with how brave Cresthorn rejected her offers and trotted on to partake in some more of his heroic deeds from centuries ago. Not even in the epilogue, alas. There was a lengthy moment of inner turmoil, wherein the mare wondered if she could walk down to the crowd and keep watching among them. Not exactly because the spectacle was that good, but to stay in their company for a bit more time. Unfortunately, she did have enough of a spine to resist the urge - her coming down there would have utterly distracted everyone, making the theater’s efforts even more pointless than they already were, and she had her fill of basking for today. No, her path did not lie down the many, many stairs (i.e. multiple teleports outside the line of sight of nosy guards) below, where a crowd of Unicornian history enthusiasts and their disenfranchised children filled the spacious inner gardens of this wing of Canterlot Towers with their colorful, somewhat historically inaccurate costumes.

Her path led upwards instead. Always upwards, not that she minded observing the exquisite interior decorations of the Royal Tower. Especially the lower regions, which were gilded, jeweled, adorned with statues and other pieces of art, numerous exotic plants, and other such pretty things. Pretty enough for her to forgo forgoing the nagging insistence of the Captain of the Guard to refrain from teleporting while on Tower grounds, and actually ascend like any normal pony would. That lasted for about five levels, after which the more utilitarian marble with scarcely a couple of gilded or otherwise ornamented items would pop up. The boring floors were obviously to be skipped through simple magic, which she perused frivolously. Stretching her back and legs, the alicorn illuminated her horn and struck a pose, popping out and then back in about four levels above - another pose, something from the dancing manual she had received over a week back, and another magical pop. Less than easy to flow into while in motion, but she was confident enough in her looks when slipping into one such pose and keeping it.

Nothing stopped her from simply teleporting up to the chambers normally, which would have been five times more expedient than showing off in such a manner. There was, however, enough utilitarian prudence in the boring marble walls of these high levels for her to be simply forced to strike some sort of balance. Besides, if anyone were watching, the sight would be more than a little agreeable, considering she made sure to relocate herself so that the setting sun would always shine straight onto her frame. Granted, if anyone were to see her like this, it would mean more nagging from the Captain, but…

‘Oh well.’

She had arrived at her destination anyway - the pair of gate-like doors adorned with celestial bodies and other such glittering pretty things, an euphoric delight to see after ascending the Tower for what must be about an hour for a regular Equestrian citizen. For her, not quite so much, but still incredibly welcome to see, because the plainness of about three quarters of this place got old even in the five minutes it took her to ascend. With a gentle, courteous forehoof, she knocked on the doors, klicking out a five-note melody with her golden slipper.

After a reasonable enough delay, the doors pulled themselves in, and she walked in on the white alicorn inside, who had her back to the doors, her head in a book of some sort, and her multicolor celestial mane in a weak, barely mobile lump off to her right.

“Gooooood evening, Celie,” the alicorn that just entered the room sang out quietly, waltzing and turning in place, a series of loud, humming sounds accompanying her body lighting up in a faint aura. The golden shoes, carcanet collar and crown fizzled out of existence. Her mane threw itself hard to the side, straightening itself out in a solid sheet, allowing the aura to pass over it as well, leaving it to drop down, touching the very floor with its now purely physical multicolor strands.

“I would hope that it’s been one,” the reading alicorn replied with a hint of a yawn. Her amethyst eyes turned to her counterpart, rolling subtly before blinking and returning to the book. “Come on now. My mind is mush after reading these legislation drafts. I don’t need any more confusion for today. Or my legs cease to function and I fall off the balcony.”

“Don’t be like that, you’re nowhere near as cooked, I can tell,” the straight-maned mare droned out, waving her hoof in the air and tilting her head. She danced over to the aquarium on the other side of the bed chambers, giving the marine life within a series of pecks through the glass. “I just want to be glorious for a couple hours more.”

On the other side of the room, two thuds of objects hitting a pillow were followed by a soft sigh.

“Osma… You are more ridiculous than the bill I am currently about to throw in the bin. I would explain how that is an achievement, but you haven’t deserved the punishment of knowing the details.”

“Ugh!” The mare by the aquarium sat on her haunches and threw her forehooves at the ceiling, shaking them in exasperation. “Why always such a grump on holidays! Why! Why, why, why! I’m always in a good mood on holidays, it’s actually really easy, I can—” She was silenced when a basket of clothes was emptied on her head, then fitting straight over her head, constraining the snout, the long spiralling horn fitting about halfway through one of the knot holes. The shapeshifter hissed and mumbled, wrestling with the tight object on her head, while her counterpart got off from the pillow, leaving behind a sizeable equine-sized dent.

“If you stop being a restless little twit, change over and join me on the balcony - then, maybe, I’ll elaborate,” the still-aetherial alicorn told her twin on the floor, walking past and nudging the balcony doors open, letting in a warm gust of spring air. “And yes, if you’re wondering, the basket was a metaphor. Just letting you know before we get carried away - five for me and seven for you on the pun game. I would say it should count for more, because you will have a much easier time getting it off your head if you change here and now, but I’ll give you a fighting chance. Don’t kick the hydragenas.”

The one that writhed on the floor continued to do so for about half a minute more, kicking her hind hooves in the air and eliciting a variety of snorts and grumbles. The one on the balcony sighed and hummed, lighting up her horn and channeling a spell that manifested a faint, transparent bubble around the general area of the Tower. By when an aerial patrol of Pegasus guards flew by, it was completely invisible. The leader of the quartet of stallions stopped to turn toward the alicorn and saluted her, to which she motioned with her hoof for them to move along, yawning quietly. The fact that there was an identical mare sprawled on her back, forehooves crossed in defiance, directly behind her, went entirely unnoticed. After the guard swooshed away, the basketed mare let out a long, drawn-out sigh, and her own horn lit up, shining strands of bright light through the knots of the basket.

“Read you like a book,” the white mare pointed out, gently yawning again. “Be thankful for my timing.”

Her body double's magic, piercing through the basket, had, in the meantime, changed color. Instead of pure white light, the magic took on a fern-green tone, sparkling and fizzling in the air, and the straight white rays morphed into jiggly, curvy lines. After blasting the room with green for a few seconds, the magic retreated into the horn and shot itself down the mare’s body. Coalescing in a tight mass of green sparkles at the tip of the horn, it travelled all the way down to the end of her tail. At around when it made its way to the throat, the mare was indeed able to throw off the basket.

“Hmmmuuuooohhh… grrrmmfff! Ow, ow, ow…” the equine whined in a noticeably higher pitched, subtly reverberating voice. “Why’s it always got to— I’m all tingly. Watch it, aah! I told you I’m tingly, urgh! Why can’t I always stay yooou, it’s itching nooow,” she complained as several pieces of laundry that stuck to her edges were removed magically.

“Shush. You had my socks on your horn.”

“Socks can wait, Celie, I’m still all woozy… oof. Okay, I’m alright now.” The equine sat up, stretching with a whispery crunch of soft chitin, her tone-fading maroon wings buzzing at her sides. “Hm, I thought I told you to wear more pink. These socks are barely pink, come on, have them add a few more stripes, it’ll look better.”

“While you’re being Canterlot fashion police, I neglected to remove the lingerie on your left ear,” the white mare commented dryly and took a sip from a cup of coffee she’d levitated over while Osma was going through her transformation. “See to that, why don’t you.”

“Celestia, Princess of Angsty Rebellion, waging her war on decent looks and anything that looks pretty in general,” the equine creature whispered gravelly, fumbling with her marigold-honey forehooves to shake the piece of clothing from her twitching ear. It proved difficult due to how it split into a slight cut-out edge around the middle of the outer ear, practically hooking the lingerie. “I was in such a good mood, too. Seeing what you wear grinds my heart into tiny little pieces.”

“I could tell you were.” Celestia chuckled and activated her horn once more, fumbling with things near the mirror to the side of the large canopied bed. A pair of tinted glasses perched atop her snout, while the equine got on all fours, swishing her transparent, insect-wing tail around. “You’re positively glowing.”

Indeed, multiple parts of the other mare’s body were quite radiant - the smooth, curved fern green plates on her belly were sparkling, bright dots popping in and out all over its surface, her part candy-red, part faint merigold transparent wings were giving off a patterned shine, her lime green hooves were lit up from inside, noticeably tinting them a slightly darker, cucumber green. Her back, a glossy regal red carapace, was all but polished-looking. A quintet of gem-like protrusions on her chest were alternating between various shades of luminant rose, and her chest itself was similar to the hooves in how it appeared lit up from inside, leaving only the wing intersections dyed their natural top-down fern-to-lime. On her now shorter-snouted head, the pair of iris-less rose red eyes looked more like two gemstones, and the four petite head nubs that formed two diagonal lines to each side of the jagged horn were sprinkling out sparse sparkles, jolting ever so slightly with each expulsion. Her webby merigold mane, a far cry from the Princess’ sprawling ethereal blanket, hung humbly over her forehead and rested in a calm, straight-down bundle on the side of her neck.

“That bright, am I? Tee-hee. Ahhh, at least you can bask in me a little. You need some basking. You look really… unbasked.”

“Oh Osma, but I thought you were the unbasketed one.” Celestia let her sunglasses slip down an inch, giving Osma a look.

“Your wordplay may hurt me physically, but it’s not going to take away from allll the wonderful love your subjects graciously showered me with this day,” she said, raising her head proud and high and flexing her neck. The chitinous mare took her place by the railing, peeking over the age and gazing at the hills in the distance, sunset playing off her eyes. “The celebration really didn’t live up to the grim description you gave it.”

Celestia was silent for a few moments, her eyes closed. She sipped the coffee and took a long sigh as she was done, moving to lean against the railing, one of her forehooves hanging freely off. The alicorn’s eyes opened weakly, blinking at the light of her own sun.

“And that’s very good. It means I was right. I’ll be having you take my place at more holidays my ponies choose to involve me in, then. See, over the span of ten years, you’ve effectively taken over Equestria.” She took another sip, exhaling lengthily out her nostrils. The mare shook her head slowly, yawning.

“Don’t be like that. Come on! They love you. I mean, you can tell, can’t you?” Osma grinned, trotting and turning in place, showing off her brightly radiant insequine body.

Celestia neglected to reply, simply closing her eyes, sighing again, and humming to herself as she drank more coffee. Her partner rubbed her slick face with a slightly luminant hoof.

“Stop being a secretive weeping willow,” she insisted, tapping a hoof impatiently on the floor. “Go ahead, tell me what’s troubling you. Don’t make me coalesce with you by force, you shifted my rib plates last time I had to do that.”

The alicorn stopped and jolted in place, snickering and nearly dropping her drink into the gardens far, far below them. Her nostrils puffed as she sought to cover her face up, cheeks having grown a few tones redder. She growled softly, shaking her head and pointing a hoof at her companion.

“Os. Mo. Sis. You… You do not simply remind me of these things like that,” Celestia complained with a bashful smile. “I was drinking. I could have choked and died.”

Osmosis grinned. “Incidentally, coalescing with you would also resuscitate you, so—”

“Alright then, discussing what’s currently on my mind is suddenly a much superior topic.” The Princess cleared her throat, rubbing her chest with a hoof.

“There we go,” the insectoid mare said, fluttering her tinted eyelids. She tapped the alicorn on her shoulder. “That’s better. Start from the beginning.”

Celestia smiled somewhat wryly, gulping down the rest of her drink and sending off back into the room. Her and Osma looked at the shuddering Everfree beyond the hills as she spoke.

“Well, actually… I think I can start with what happened today. How’d you find the play? I never did take you to one of these, thought to spare you the boredom.” The alicorn lowered her head to effectively rest on her hooves, which were crossed over the railing. “Now that you’ve been there, what are your thoughts?”

“Uhm… Honestlyyy… Not my favorite tale of knightly romance? Too much riding around and vanquishing foul beasts and what have you.” Osmosis rubbed her back, shrugging. “I don’t think his beloved even made an appearance for more than a few minutes. I can’t even recall her name…”

“Pearl White,” Celestia muttered. “Her name was Pearl White.” The other mare nodded, humming in agreement. “And I should say that you hit the nail on the head. A whole lot of vanquishing beasts it turned out to be… Now, this is a silly question, but do you know why I’m made to attend this celebration every year?”

“All the Unicorns looked pretty happy to see you,” Osma said, biting her sleek, fleshy lip with a fang and tilting her head in thought. Celestia was silent for a couple seconds.

“It’s because I was there, Osma. This is based on real events. At least partially… As time went on, the tale got changed to be more, well, exciting. Less boring. Cresthorn’s life story was a bit more than saving the day and galloping off to his next quest without accepting any reward.”

“So I assumed. Unicorns don’t strike me as the ponies to pass up a nice bundle of jewels,” the other mare pondered, rubbing her chin. “Not that I blame them.”

“Well, you see… On the one hand, what you took part in today is scarcely reminiscent of what happened over a thousand years ago. A thousand and eight, to be precise. Fifty eight years after these events… You know what happened then.” Celestia waved her hoof rashly, batting away a strand of her mane by the ear that was blown into her snout by a sudden gust of wind. “I should have that trimmed.”

“You should, you would look a lot prettier with your mane strictly on the left. But, go on?’

“Yes. On the other hand, what actually happened back then…” The alicorn shut her eyes and scowled for a moment. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t by my authority that this was made a Unicornian holiday, and I’m not the biggest fan of it still being celebrated. Even if, through some remarkable string of irony, the reasons for my distaste are what got lost to time. And you know me… I couldn’t help reflecting on all of this. So that’s how you found me in the gloomy state that I was.”

“Is it, ummm… that sort of subject? Do we talk about something else?” Osma moved closer to Celestia, putting her hoof over the Princess’.

“No, don’t worry. I’m not that much of a shrieking violet, please. In fact, I’m going to give you a very quick crash course… even if it’ll probably ruin the holiday for the years to come, but, well, you’ll have the crowd to adore you and you’ll eat that up no doubt.” The alicorn shrugged with a bit of forced exaggeration, pushing out a wry smirk. “The conclusions I’ve come to are fairly relevant.”

Osmosis gave her a similarly forced blank stare, scowling playfully. She leaned against the railings, supporting her head with a forehoof, and motioned for her to go on.

“Well, Cresthorn was a leader of the Unicornian Knights Order of the Arcane who kept the peace across the Badlands and the Applelachian Mountains borders. He was adored for his skills as a battle mage, his knights looked up to his courage, and he was famous throughout the Unicornian provinces for his selflessness. He would share most of his pay with the soldiers under his command, and whenever he’d be given tribute by the settlements he’d saved from certain doom at the fangs of mountain spiders or the clubs of rock giants, he would send it directly to the realm to enrich the treasury.”

“He… sounds pretty good to me. So was he—”

“He was also a virulent hater of the non-Unicorn ponies, especially Pegasi. When things were quiet in Unicornia, he would leave behind a garrison, take his best soldiers, and raid Pegasus settlements.” Osmosis opened her mouth and raised her eyebrows, but no sound came out. She stood dumbfounded for a time before having to close her mouth manually. The Princess carried on. “They would heat up the cumulus those towns rested on, and within minutes, they would collapse, plunging to their doom, with few survivors. We only found out decades after his passing. They made it seem as if it was Pegasi renegades sabotaging their own kin. Some of the invisibility magic his casters used is in the libraries to this day…” The alicorn shook her head.

Both mares stood in silence for a bit, Osma biting on her lip and darting her eyes, hooves shifting in place.

“In my defense, I did have my suspicions at the time, though the level of authority he held over Unicornian high society made any real movement against him difficult. Especially considering that he would graciously ‘offer’ my cabinet the services of his own knights to help in the investigation. The Pegasus Commander-General would have had many of his lieutenants rotting in high security dungeons if I hadn’t done all in my power to halt the courts while Cresthorn’s soldiers ‘helped’ us with ‘intelligence’. Oh, the things I got to hear in his audio-scrolls…” Celestia chuckled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Osma stretched out her hoof to rub the mare’s shoulder before reconsidering, shuffling in place nervously. “As a matter of fact, he couldn’t stand yours truly. He believed it was me who was trespassing under his protectorate, and not him who was refusing to hear out orders in the realm I was a Princess of. Wonderful times, as you might imagine.”

“That is… actually disgusting. Why is he being—”

“Eventually, I had to pressure him. I seized the opportunity when he was crossing by what is now Everfree, by our old castle. I did what I could to talk to him, but he wasn’t willing to listen. So I tried to threaten him, I said that if he wouldn’t submit to our rule, we would use the Elements of Harmony to forcibly purify him.” The insectoid mare hung her head at hearing the strain in Celestia’s voice spelling out the artifacts’ name. “There was an agreement… for a week. After which he attempted to storm the castle with nearly half of the entire Unicornian knightly elite backing him up.”

“...”

“Yes, that’s the world that I’ve lived in. And since, to this day, I am not perfect, all of us still, in good part, do.” The Princess slumped her head back down on the railings and made a faint circular shape with her horn, which she diffused with a puff of air from her mouth. “Blow off the dust of history, and this is what you find.”

“Well… then. May as well give up,” Osma said casually with a shrug. She hopped onto the railings and heaved herself off, plummeting toward the courtyard below. “Goodbye cruel world!”

“Nope. You stay here and listen,” Celestia mumbled, furrowing her brows, having magically caught the buzzing equine by her merigold tail and pulled her back onto the balcony. “Let’s leave crippling depression for a time when we don’t have important things to do.”

“We always have important things to do.” Osmosis whined haughtily, getting herself off her flank. “And I’m, ugh, not feeling anywhere near as shiny as I was before you felt it necessary to tell me all of this nastiness. You know, just because you’re jealous of how I’m not an eternally grumpy pile of unkempt, brooding woozles. Doesn’t mean you can just ruin my day so I’m just as miserable inside as you.”

“Oh, well, it’s supposed to be your job to make me not-miserable-inside,” Celestia retorted.

“Since when?! My job is to replace you when you don’t feel like going somewhere or doing something because it makes you feel awkward.” The shapeshifter held her snout high, turning away from the Princess with a snort. “Everything else is just a familial courtesy.”

“I changed the job description this afternoon, you should be more mindful of the paperwork,” the alicorn replied, stone faced. “You are now officially my pet and do whatever I want you do. Come, roll over, who’s a good little pony-bug.”

“Really now! Well how about I turn into you, run out, and—”

“Had that conversation before, I’m afraid.” Celestia finally broke her guise and let her lips curl upwards. “Being in dungeon exile is a major improvement over ruling all of Equestria.”

“Bleh. Where were we, again?” Osma said, physically hoof-waving the topic away.

“I was getting to my point. If slowly. Now, Cresthorn’s legacy is that he’s a hero to the Unicornian people for all the good he did to them. And, objectively speaking, I suppose they’re right to praise him. He did do all the good things they assign to him. Though I do find it ironic that because he was so selfless with his subjects, he was the only one anyone remembers from that time anymore…” She sighed. “Oh, Osma, reading history is really odd when you’ve lived to see it play out before your eyes. Now we have a silly holiday reenactment where I pretend that we weren’t shouting far less courteous words - in an entirely different accent - at one another, and that he just rode off into the sunset. But!” Celestia raised her hoof, interrupting her insequine partner before she urged her to get on with it. “That’s where the job I’ve got for you finally comes into play. You see, the reality of Cresthorn the Everquesting wasn’t the only thing keeping me thoughtful today. That’s more like unpleasant interference. What I was, in fact, thinking about, was the Elements.”

“...?...” There wasn’t really a suggestion of anything coherent coming out of Osmosis’ mouth as she stared almost literally bug-eyed at the Princess.

“More specifically, what the literary geniuses of the Unicornian Historic Theatre added about five rewrites ago. That I, in my eternal generosity...” Celestia pointed at herself with mock theatrics. “Wanted him to have the Elements so he can be my protégé. Obviously, nothing of the kind ever happened, in fact, the polar opposite did. However… It’s time we saw to it that it did. The time is fast approaching when I think I would rather have a recipient for these artefacts.”

“Yooou don’t mean… Waaait. No.” Osmosis’ now significantly less sparkly body was stuck mid-twinkle for a moment as she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Is that part also true?! About Night—”

The alicorn simply nodded and sighed, putting her hoof on the pony-bug’s shoulder.

“What next? Is Discord real too?” she complained exasperatedly. “Is he going to pop out of that creepy statue in the Gardens now?” The hoof on her shoulder got a little sterner and she looked in Celestia’s eyes.

“Osma. You’ve been a great help to me for a good few years now. And I admit, I do feel bad tasking you with this. If it helps, I’ll try to skirt a bit of my own work to spend more time with you in the future. But I do require your aid, because I am very, very well aware that the mare suited to this task is definitely not me.” Now both her hooves were effectively hugging Osmosis, and her snout closed in with the other mare’s. “It is you. I know you can do it.”

The insectoid mare’s ears folded, and her adaptive chitin simulated an equine blush as her breath got heavier. Her eyes withdrew from Celestia’s.

“No pressure,” the Princess added wryly, giving Osma a peck on the nose and nuzzling her briefly.

The mare’s body had by then replaced its energized sparkling with a deep, magenta light blooming beneath the soft, chitinous carapace. She took a deep breath through her nostrils and exhaled slowly, nestling her head in the nape of the alicorn’s neck.

“Yooou wouldn’t just pull a fast one on me, would you?” she pretended to wonder. “Make me make our bed, or something like that. I can’t tell with how good you’ve become at doing this stone-faced jester thing.”

“Thank yourself for that,” Celestia replied into Osma’s malleable, swiftly softened shoulder, which was harsher carapace a moment ago. “That’s the skills I had to develop to deal with life after making you my public face, all of your quirks attached.”

“Huzzah, thank you, Osmosis.”

“There we go.” The alicorn patted her on the back and withdrew from the hug, leaving Osma to cross her forelegs nervously. “The short of what I’ll need you to do is… I need you to find a promising family. Good ponies who are apt at magic and in whom you can trust. A family in which my protégé would be born, in time for Her return.”

“A family? Wait, but—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll provide you with any resources you’ll require in your search. All you’ll need to worry about will be picking the right ponies and peeling away their layers to see if what lies inside can, in the long run, be a Bearer.”

“Oh, yes… That’s just wonderful, Celie. Make it sound nasty and depressing!” Osmosis puffed air out her nostrils, dropping her flank onto a nearby pillow and supporting her chin with a hoof. “Yes, that hit the spot.”

“So… deal? Do this for me, in any amount of time you require. We have five decades to go. Or rather, four, considering I’d rather not be taking a newborn under my wing.” Celestia left the balcony, closing the doors and sitting down next to her partner. “And I’ll… Well, we’ll figure out what I’ll do. Something I’m going to be blushing over for centuries to come, knowing you.”

“Heh-heh. Heeeh. Life comes at you fast. Here I thought today was eventful enough.” She leaned against the side of a nearby sofa. “Now I’ve got the fate of the world in my hooves! Its fate in fifty years, that is.”

“I wouldn’t have tasked you with this if I didn’t think you were able. I know I’m not. Using my authority to have an audience with our greatest magical families is one thing, actually holding a conversation with them as they cower before me and seek to grovel at my hooves is another thing. Or whatever it is you’ve got them used to with your ‘hijinx’, as you call them.” The white mare imitated her body double’s actual voice and gestured up a pair of air quotes with her hooves. “I’ve lost control of my public appearance.”

“I agree, by the way.” Osma winked.

“Hm?”

“I pretended that you asked me instead of giving me an order. It’s alright, you’re getting there, you’ll be almost talkable to in no time!” The multicolored insequine gave her a wide, fanged grin, the smooth chitin of her snout molding itself with a squeak to make it stretch particularly far. Her lime green neck curved as she dodged an empty paper cup thrown at her by the frumped Princess. “Wild Mare Celie is almost ready for pony contact.”

“I’m your Princess, you know,” she said with a frown, crossing her hooves at her chest.

“And I’m you, Celie, so that’s a bit of a wash, as they say.”

“Pfft.”

“Pffhfshhsshhshtttt.”

“Pfffffffft.”

“Pssshhhhtshhhtssshtchitterscreekchitterchittertweet.”

“Insect noises are cheating.”

“What was that jerk’s wife’s name again?” Osma switched topics with expediency, from their ill-fated indignant noises contest back to the depressing story that saw her lose most of her powered-up sparkling.

“Pearl White.” Celestia replied with a single flicker of her ear, rolling her eyes very subtly. The two rested against a sofa each, their hind hooves resting on each other’s belly. Osma yawned squeakily and summoned over a glossy magazine, popping it out of existence off the night stand near their bed, while Celestia begrudgingly dragged the legislation she had been reading before her body double’s arrival over for further inspection. “Why do you ask?”

“What did she actually do?” the insequine mare asked. “The historical version?” She summoned a sheet of her own to copy jewelry designs onto.

“I… can’t remember too much. I don’t think she shared her husband’s views, about ‘the hornless’ that is,” Celestia elaborated, noisily ripping out an entire page and immolating it in solar flame. Osma barely reacted to the latter. “She also definitely did not sit in a tower in complete chastity as he strode around righting wrongs.”

“Oooh, really?”

“Oh yes, his family was quite a… proliferous one. Most of them also ended up decent Unicorns. Considering Cresthorn wasn’t what I would call decent, and that he was out on duty for most of his life…” The Princess smirked and giggled, winking at Osmosis. “Well, I don’t think Pearl White was terribly bored at night, if you get what I mean.”

“Mmmhm, spicy, fresh, thousand-year-old gossip. Deee-licious, I feel sparkly already.” The bug-pony chuckled, eyeing something in her magazine. “He deserved it, anyway, and she deserved better, too. You deserve something good as well, by the way. Or, someone. If you catch my meaning.”

Celestia’s hind hoof nudged the insectoid mare’s belly with some considerably force, burying her snout in the fashion pages.

“You invent more and more elaborate ways to bring this up, don’t you?”

Osmosis sighed with a degree of mock exaggeration on top of what was genuine. Her lime hind hooves withdrew from their warm pristine white pillow in defiance, and she shuffled around, creaking her fern green chest plates. Her rose-and-honey wings folded into her sides as her transparent merigold tail curled into a ball to untangle from the alicorn’s ethereal threads. Her edged, brush-cut-tipped ears flicked, and the quintet of rose gems on her chest went darker, no longer projecting ambient light. She shook her head to get the strands of merigold, webby mare out of her blank candy red eyes and let out an indignant “Hmf!” as at long last, her body found a comfortable enough position, unperturbed by closeness with such a grumpy individual as Princess Celestia.

“Oh and also, you are making our bed tonight.”

“So… do I need to use the library?” Osma asked, fiddling with a row of cards levitating in front of her snout. “Can’t I just take the ledgers to our chambers?”

“No. Stop being lazy. These are generational family books,” Celestia answered, fiddling with her own cards as she stood on the balcony. Behind her, up in the sky, the sun was rising, to which the alicorn was barely paying any attention beyond the exertion of magic from her horn. “Our library only gives those up if you’re either a scholar with research needing to be done, or me.”

“Well, Celie, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I just so happen to be you,” the shapeshifter stated. She raised an eyebrow, peeking over the Princess’ silhouette at the rising sun. “Oh, um, is the angle off a little?’

“No, it isn’t. It’s just like that during autumn,” Celestia assured her, rubbing her chin, and shoving one of her cards onto the rug that floated between the two of them. “And no, you can’t.”

“I don’t hear a reason, Sunny. Turning up the tyranny, huh?” Osmosis puffed air out her nostrils, glaring at the arrangement of cards on their improvised playing table. “You know nobody likes autumn, by the way. We don’t have to have autumn.”

“No I’m not. I need to keep up appearances at the library. But for two years in a row now, affairs have been so dull, I haven’t had to use any of its resources. This is as good an excuse as any,” the Princess elaborated monotonously, bending her knees slightly, eyes shut tight, the sun having come out of calibration and being propelled to do its daily round with one last surge of magic. “And if you remind me about your way about weather control again… Equestria is going to be a blazing, scorched inferno, and it’ll be all your fault.”

“Uuugh. All I told the Weather Control was that they should look into extending spring and summer by two weeks at the expense of autumn and winter. We don’t HAVE to do it like we’re in the untamed realms!” Osma cried out, banging her soft hooves against the floor in frustration and turning the game table over, conceding her defeat. The cards fizzled out before hitting the floor and reappearing on top of the rug, rearranged into new decks. “And I swear. Are you actually the laziest, pettiest thing in the entire world? Yes or yes? I mean, I’ll go to the trouble, but only because I am a decent pony being. Unlike you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not a pony.” The equine’s hooves slapped her snout hard, pushing deep as she groaned. “And what I was referring to was that I’ll lose control of the sun next time you make me think about that.”

“Celie, we’re playing cards right now. Three days ago, we played chess.” Osma placed a card down. “One week ago, draughts. Is it me, or are you being a bit of a certified insufferable priss tomorning?”

“No. That memory is just particularly traumatic. I can’t believe I got out of that one without blowing your cover. Honestly, I can’t believe how good I am.” Celestia remained in place, yet to reply to her companion’s move, focusing on finishing up the sunrise spell. Her mane even stopped waving, shining much brighter now. Her eyes shifted from behind closed eyelids, having recognized Osma stood in front of her now. “It’s been a month since you last won against me at anything, by the way.”

“Goodness, Celestia, I think something horrible has happened to you,” the changeling said with mock concern. “Do I put it gently?”

“No need. I can—” The alicorn contorted for a moment before a sharp flash of light blasted off her horn, and her mane went back to waving, if barely sparkling for the time being. She breathed heavily, nearly sitting down after the long minute of concentration. “—take it.”

“I think you’ve lost your ability to not start sentences with the word ‘No’.”

“No, I haven’t. It’s just every time I have to speak up. I’m alright past the first sentence.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder if you’d have lost your mind if I wasn’t around.” Celestia stretched and arched her back, after which she elected to up and lay down on her belly, the sun showering her back with its strong morning light. “Look at how you’re being with me. Now I have to cure you before you start losing entire parts of speech.”

“Wait, n—” the Princess couldn’t finish, being cut off into a huff and pant, because the insequine mare hopped her malleable frame straight on top of her, instantly sliding her limbs around to fit them snugly around the white mare’s body, altering their texture as they went to be more tangibly hard and warmer. When Osma’s chin found its way on top of her head, snout bopping against the horn, she simply sighed and lowered her head straight onto the floor. “I just used an imperative verb.”

“Quiet now. I let you have your moody time yesterday, but today’s taking it too far.” The shapeshifter’s grip around most of her body had solidified, at which point moving her own body proved an unnecessarily big challenge for Celestia, while most movements the insectoid mare on top of her made resonated within her quite palpably. “You’re not leaving this room until I take care of you. You’re ungroomed. You’re fit for the urchins.”

“Don’t you have an important job to be doing?” Celestia mumbled half legibly, dragging a small pillow over to rest her head on.

“Now, that is the problem, isn’t it? No-no-no, work-work-work. Again. Every three weeks. Like clockwork. We need to talk, Celie.” Osmosis’ voice had changed, not the tone, but the light echo that her words made when leaving her mouth transformed into a barely audible tremble which found its way into the alicorn’s ears, causing her to get warmed up and tingly from the inside. “You need company.”

“Hnnngh.”

“And I don’t count because I’m you.”

The alicorn groaned softly and sunk her snout into the pillow. Her forehooves lazily stamped themselves over her ears, folding them in, muffling out Osma’s words.

“You know, it would be adorable if this didn’t happen so regularly. Do I need to explain that when you act like this, you’re maaaking me take the emergency massage further and further and further and further?” The green limbs that enveloped her turned part plush part liquid, emitting slight vibrations and a barely visible heat blur. The chitinous chest plates were more solid, but instead of simply pressing against the mare’s back, they produced light thwomping noises as they thudded against it rhythmically. “I don’t - because you know it, and you won’t admit it, but you keep doing it anyway. I wouldn’t have had to put my voice in your head if you just listened to me like a civilized pony.”

She barely moved when the two mares’ horns touched one another, hers being turned alight by the shifty insect’s will. Struggling huffs and mumbles emerged from the mare on top of her as she worked her magic, continuing her lecture. Celestia’s hooves drooped down slightly from the enforced relaxation, still pushing down on her ears, if only out of stubbornness.

“I’ve been keeping track of this. The whole entire year has been like this! Most of the month, everything is completely fine, we have our weekly massage session. If the month is stressful, we coalesce, yes I know you like the word so much, shut up,” Osma chided while easing her body for the conjoining of their tails, her dragonfly wing tail sliding into the aetherial hairs of Celestia’s. “But come the last week, nooo, we start being mopey and dopey. And every time you find some sort of excuse. ‘Wasteful renovations’ this, ‘disorder in Appleloosan mines’ that, ‘Cerule shipped the wrong weather to the Southlands’ here, ‘siren sightings in Baltimare’ there. Somehow all these things turn stressful in the last third of each month! Twelve times in a row isn’t coincidence, Celie. And you’re not going to distract me with your epic quest.”

The alicorn summoned what remained of her bodily frustration-fueled strength to try to stomp her hooves into the pillow, letting her ears spring unfold back up, blushing and unable to stand straight due to the influence imposed upon her nervous system. She managed an indignant nostril puff and distant whinny, which was meant to convey the variety of responses the wished to be able to shut Osmosis down with. Unfortunately, despite all rumors, she was imperfect in a variety of ways, thus she lacked the innate talent required for even the basics of telepathy - which could not be said about her body double. Whichever species she belonged to, and if there were indeed any of them left, they were quite good at it. Having spent years together, she had unfortunately given Osma too much practice in handling their mental communications, which meant that shouting her down inside her own head wasn’t going to happen. Osmosis’ tembrous voice wasn’t to be escaped from, her wagonloads of justifications and counterarguments were.

“There is something that bothers you, and it isn’t a specific thing. And you yourself called me empathetic. Which I am. And as your very own personal empath, masseuse and errand girl all at once, I am telling you…” The mare lowered her snout to one of Celestia’s now-open, twitchy-folded ears, and then redoubled the volume of her voice in the mare’s head anyway. “You. Need. A. Date.”

Princess Celestia’s body gained some form of agency, swaying woozily and shaking her topside attachment, albeit less than effectively. Her mouth uncoupled itself from the pillow, but little other than wobbly, incoherent, fussy syllables escaped it. Most of her communication was conveyed via a variety of displeased noises.

“You’re craving for affection! And attention! And you want to be ridden! Today was one of the worst, and you don’t even realize it, I bet. Look at how you’re acting, you may as well hang a sign on your neck, write ‘HOT SINGLE WANTS COMPANY’ all over it and go prancing around on the streets!” Just as the Princess almost gained enough momentum, the limbs that hugged her all over began to squeeze and knead, erasing all progress she’d made to showing her distaste. “But of course, I’m paraphrasing. You don’t go out on the streets! You send me out there half the time, and most of your socializing is spying on ponies without them knowing!”

The massage session began to near its end, as, after a few minutes of proper kneading and mushing, Osma’s colors began to change in tint, growing darker, heavier, emitting dark-light pressure sparkles. Celestia’s horn, which was stuck between a pair of jaggy spines that grew out of Osma’s, was no longer glowing a soft yellow, but a much deeper medallion shade, the magic flowing into her forceful masseuse via those very spines. The insequine mare herself wasn’t using her mouth to speak anymore at this point, having made her point by enunciating the Princess’ desperate need for a proper partner. Instead, her teeth were grit with effort, eyes shut tight, her body growing darker by the second.

“You’re a very complicated mare, Celestia. You have a lot on your shoulders. Your behavior is understandable, it really is. However, I’m doing my job quite well, if I say so myself. Don’t even try to say I’m not! There is a piece missing from the puzzle,” her voice talked directly to the alicorn’s mind, entirely unavoidable despite many attempts that even the mare herself knew were doomed. The topic was one that prompted an instinctual flight response, no matter the futility of it. “I’ve lived with this puzzle for yeeears now, so listen to me as an expert. I said I’ll help you with saving the world in fifty years. You said you’ll do me a favor for that. Well, what I want is very simple! You let me find you a nice stallion to spend time with. That’s all I want, Sunny.”

With that, the emergency massage session came to an end - Osmosis detached herself, literally peeling parts of her body off of Celestia, and got stood up, leaving the Princess plastered on the floor. The shapeshifter shuddered, took a deep breath, and kneeled, lighting up her horn. An orb of orange and green formed in the air, growing steadily bit by bit, before ending up roughly the size of a carriage wheel. Having finished growing, the orb began to spin in place. Its colors began to distort, growing darker and darker, filling up into patterns. Particularly darkly tinted segments, nearly tar-black, began to float outward, forming circles around the orb. Once it ceased changing, it was a veritable magical gyroscope colored primarily in very dark browns, peppered with ashen grey dots across the middle, several pitch black circles orbiting it, and a pinprick red dot seething from what would have been the top of it when it wasn’t spinning.

“Ohhh my… This is some of the worst we’ve seen. This looks gnarly,” Osma commented with a shade of exhaustion, casting a glance at the alicorn, who was regaining her ability to not lie in a puddle on the floor. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad when I felt you up two days ago… Being anywhere near this bad is still unacceptable, by the way, so I’m still in the right. But, oh dear. I suppose your inner stresses and troubles have made your case. You know, about how important my job is.”

“Yes, I do know…” Celestia yawn-whispered, leaning a wooly hoof against a pillar by the balcony, gathering up strength to support herself. “I feel like a balloon. Again…”

“Well, look at you. Using words like ‘Yes’ again. I may not be good enough to replace proper pony company, but I’m good for something, aren’t I?” The equine swung to her side, leaving behind a short trace of color, residual energy fizzling out of her body, steadily returning her to the usual balance of red, yellow and green. “There you go. Feeling steady?”

“I will, soon. That hit the spot,” she evaluated her partner’s job dryly, flexing and twisting her neck with no cracking to be heard. “You presume too much, however. I should really ban you from reading all those romance novels. Or at least make you show up to the library as myself when you take them. Nevermind, that is a terrible idea…”

“Oh no. Our Supreme Monarch reads things! Gather the pitchforks!” Osmosis altered her voice to sound shrieking, obnoxious and male. “Mount her head on the Tower doors!!! Down wi—” She ended up gurgling out echoey, pitch-altered nonsense as a white forehoof placed itself squarely in her mouth, gagging her.

“Shush. Osma. You’re a great…” Celestia paused, rolling her eyes. “...individual. But you have a very one track mind. Let me tell you something as the ruler of a country that is essentially based on friendship and love. Romance doesn’t solve absolutely everything. Love in general also doesn’t. I’ve lived long enough to find that much out. And I’ve told you this at least seven times before, by the way. You eat it and are, as such, very clearly biased.”

“You know, sometimes you remind me that I’m not doing my job just to be nice to you, or because it’s fun. Sometimes you really come off as this millennia-old depressed teenager going through a phase!” Osmosis countered, talking mouthlessly. She sat down on her haunches and crossed her forehooves, nibbling against the hoof indignantly. “Bwuah-bwuah-bwuaaah, you can’t possibly understand me, it’s not like you’re an empath with years of experience and I’m so easy to read that I may as well be a book on four legs!”

“You prize yourself heavily for someone who’s lost a total of 220 consecutive games of anything we’ve played that required any degree of thinking, Osma,” Princess Celestia countered, booping snouts with her body double and smirking wide. By that point she had given up on freeing her hoof without excessive force, so it took spreading her wings to balance on three legs as she did that. “I would think that after how long I’ve lived, I know myself a little better than you. It’s in the details, and also, thanks for reminding me how old I am, miss Point-Out-Every-Rude-Thing-I-Do-In-Private. You know, you’re stepping out of line. You are going to be spanked if you keep going like this.”

“You know I have a point.”

“Not an argument, dear.”

“You’re gonna be a great teacher to this student of yours with manners like these, aren’t you?”

“...that’s… an argument, I suppose.” Celestia stopped, frowning and biting on her lower lip. Her hoof was finally released from Osmosis’ jaws too, rewarding her for playing along in some fashion at least.

“There you go. Oh and, by the way, you were the one who brought up your age,” Osma pointed out with her physical voice, grinning wide and blinking smugly. “Score another for me. So, is it a deal?”

“Nope.”

“OH COME ON!!!” the shapeshifter shrieked, her eyes growing several sizes larger to express her infuriation as she waved her forehooves in the air, tumbling over onto the floor while she was at it. “Ack, buh.”

The Princess turned around to face her sun once again and began levitating pieces of her formal apparel over, fitting it in without much hurry. She lifted a glass of orange juice and stuck its straw into the side of her mouth, letting her sip as she prepared to venture out into the innards of Canterlot Towers.

“I’m willing to accept that there’s something wrong with me. Most likely in a physical sense. The timing isn’t a thing I can ignore. I’ll look into seeing what I can do about this, because the absolute last thing we need is me in a bad state when the time is nigh,” she lectured diligently, fitting her necklace with maroon jewels. “I highly doubt that the solution to this particular issue is going to be ‘find a mortal stallion to mount you at night and fill your life with roughly forty years of periodical joy after which his passing plunges you into depression for approximately a month and generally worsens your mental state of affairs’.” The Princess’ tone was particularly dry and monotonous for the prolonged section of air-quotes she’d made with her forehooves as the golden slippers were being magicked over them. Her body double let out a bodily chitter, tilting her head rapidly and raising her eyebrows.

“...that didn’t come out of nothing, Celie, did it?”

“Library, Osma, and then I expect you to get started.” Celestia dodged the topic entirely and cleared her throat. “Right now, I have got basic architecture to explain to the Council in twenty minutes, and that’ll take a while - so take your time, but don’t take too long! You know how it goes.”

“I sure do. Fifty years are going to come to an end in, like, a few days, I guess, the way you’re acting!” Osmosis scoffed, getting onto all fours and preparing herself for a change in appearance as well. “This conversation isn’t over, you know!”

“I’m sure it’ll stay in your head,” The alicorn chimed condescendingly, trotting out of the chambers. “Especially after you see the new Griffon romance novels they shipped yesterday!”

“And do your save-the-world quest, Celie!”

“And that too, yes.”

Search: Sparklegust

The late afternoon sun was mostly absent from the quaint, distant corner of Canterlot’s Upper District that Osmosis found herself in, examining the object of her destination. While she did spend some time socializing, or, more precisely, partaking in various parties and festivities she would reliably sneak her way into, this part of the city’s elite quarter wasn’t one she frequented. Neither as Princess Celestia during the times she was required to reach out to the community, nor in her travelling and off-duty guise, which was, in fact, her current form. As a tall, slender, selectively curvacious faint pink Unicorn with a wavy taffy tinted mane, she reached the address of the first promising place she’d dug up during library research. Simultaneously the last one, since two hours of cross-referencing information from the address book, the Canterlot heraldry ledger, the booklet of Unicornia’s influential families from A to Z excluding Ȝ and ſ, and a beauty pageant (to keep herself afloat).

While eschewing the guise of the Princess was prudent, if not disheartening for the lover of nutrition that she was, Osmosis was currently stood before the fact that the house she was to infiltrate and ideally seduce was floating in the air.

‘Maybe they’re alicorns, somehow. That’d be instant compatibility. Wing-horned ponies have to stick together. If they refuse to, I’ll make them. They’re not actually going to be alicorns, though.’

Granted, the actual task given to her by Celestia was significantly easier than that - in that it involved her not doing the worst job in the world of showing up as the Princess herself, and then having a civil examination of the house, as well as its inhabitants. Then she would just use her better judgement to see if they were fit to be marked for bearing a student in the coming decades. Not precisely easy, but also not that difficult considering Osmosis’ comprehension of ponies, even if Celestia herself would assume she were above her penetrative gaze. Her task was more complex than that, though, and the house floated in the air, perched atop refined bluish cumulus, decorative chains pretending to bind it to the soil of the garden that grew where the building would otherwise have stood. Also, the heavy, ornate fence and gate that surrounded the premises made things all the more difficult.

Osma tried approaching it already, but found further issue with proceeding because the large garnet to the right of the gates didn’t seem to be a communication mechanism of any kind, which was what massive gems implanted in manor walls usually were. Instead, it simply took on a deep red sheen when she got too close. Not a great sign of progress.

‘At least I’m not being blasted with magic missiles.’

Obviously, going in as Celestia, appearing essentially out of nowhere, ideally not being seen doing so by any passers-by, was the much easier approach. What she originally wanted, however, was to see how these ponies treated someone who wasn’t semi-divine immortal royalty. She could probably make out most important details of who they are and what they’re worth from that much, but the more intricate details needed more diverse interactions. Intricate details were what she was after, because generally good features and family values were one thing - but one’s worth for romance… was another.

‘I’m probably being yelled at, a lot. And this is harder than finding a good family… I don’t suppose things being easy is ever part of a good plan.’

She was finding her moody counterpart a date, as well as a good home from which to gather a protégé. That was going to happen, under no shade or hint of doubt. Her mind was set.

‘This gate. These ponies sure value their security. Little do they know that now that I don’t get to live out my spy novel fantasies, they’ve gifted me the perfect weapon with which to deal Sunny a blow she won’t forget!’ Osma nodded to herself, getting over the irk of how bumpy the first time was looking to be. ‘Good luck crossing out an appointment with a hot, handsome stud that you called over yourself, miss Grumpy Princess.’

Her other alternatives were: stalk them for a few days to be able to perform outright identity theft and sneak into the house as someone they know, sneak onto the premises under camouflage and observe them most unhealthily, and order some community service worker over to this place as Celestia, then impersonate said worker and try to do her job from then on somehow. Simply barging in as Princess Celestia going over for a friendly visit was the best idea she had.

After a quick withdrawal to a nearby narrow alleyway between slightly less luxurious houses, the tall pinkish Unicorn with a trio of Griffon ornate things, whatever their name was, on her flank had changed into Equestria’s ruling sovereign. And what a surprise, the garnet was aglow with golden light, the gates opening themselves helpfully. She already had her presuppositions about these ponies, so it was time to see what could be added on top.

To some slight surprise, while she was definitely visible through the tall floating manor’s many windows, there was no furor and rush to meet her with all the numerous pleasantries that Canterlot’s inhabitants seemed to love indulging in whenever she deigned to visit them. As a matter of fact, she walked up a few steps of the autonomously apparating aetherial stairway on her own.

There was a series of faint whirs and chirps, followed by rapid knocking and clicking coming from several spots within the foundation, which all stopped abruptly. After a pause, the many jewels encrusted into the three-story floating manor emitted an intricate series of multicolored sparks, shining like festive lights, and producing chirpy noises. Osma’s hearing rather quickly picked up that the jewels were reproducing a close approximation of the Equestrian National Anthem, each arcane stone responsible for one specific instrument. Not the cleanest rendition, though likely one of the more original ones she’d heard. By when they went silent, just as abruptly as they started, she had more than a hint of an amused smile on her face. Being Celestia at the given moment, she decisively lacked the option of a giggling grin and a poking of the many shiny thingies.

She was a few steps away from the heavy, gilded door, when it opened on its own, narrowly avoiding hitting her on the snout.

“P-princess Celestia!” a pair of thoroughly shaky, befuddled voices being intensely masked with a heavily imperfect cover of solemn nonchalantness and rejoicement exclaimed at her.

“Correct!” she answered with a slight smile, albeit one big enough for her teeth to cast off blinks of the luminant jewels’ light. A toothpaste advertisement pageant in all but function.

“This… is really unexpected, we are so, so, um, unprepared!..”

“Maybe you could visit in about two days? We’ll be ready then!” The doors shuffled to close from one side.

“GARNET!!!”

The two ponies that gave her the unconventional welcome began to wrestle for the door while Osma stood still, taking the scene in, head tilting inch by inch. The one fighting to close the door was a stallion, a coral Unicorn with a messy indigo mullet bobbing up and down, inadvertently polishing a mildly stained horn. His square-rimmed, jewelled glasses slid up and down his snout, which was being pushed directly into an intensely blushing dandelion yellow mare. Eventually, they ended up perched on her nose more than his, which was an achievement, considering they struggled for a total of four seconds before Osmosis sighed serenely and walked in, separating the two with a wing.

“Princess! Your Highness! We swear we have the money! It’s just…” the stallion sputtered, frozen still alongside his partner in a corner, as Osma looked back at them with a raised eyebrow. “W-we thought the payment was due tomorrow, and we didn’t think you would oversee the deal personally!”

“And please nevermind Garnet, he hit his head fix—” The mare hiccuped, bright pink eyes losing most of their pupils for a moment. Even her wavy rouge mane seemed to have frozen in abject shock as her hooves dug into the stallion’s shoulders. “—counting the money!”

“Dear subjects. I was, as a matter of fact, quite pleased. Disregarding the fact that the timing is evidently affecting your mental stability, of course.” One massive advantage of being Celestia was that the sound of her voice often silenced even regular ambient noise. Not the case this time around, as she could hear a cooker puffing in the kitchen and a clock ticking in the hallway, but the Unicorns switched to remarkably silent breath. Or were asphyxiating themselves as she went on, alternatively. “And you do such intricate work. The payment can be pushed back a week, I doubt Equestria’s foundation lies upon it. Arranging finances is crude, boring work. Have the time you need.”

Being Celestia also meant that sometimes you simply went with the flow. The ledgers she informed herself on were… imperfect. They were not exactly up to date. All she knew about house Sparklegust going in was that their history traced far (her eyes lost color when she saw how far, and as such elected not to examine the depths), that they were a rare mixed household of Pegasi and Unicorn descent, and that House Sparklegust members count themselves among the ponies that helped Equestria win the Cross-Continental War Games of 922. Evidently not major enough to have books written about them. As such, her assumption (house of magi-engineers that likely own multiple businesses, do contract work, likely manufacturers of the very security jewels their dwelling was encrusted all over with,most definitely both cooky and scrambled as many technologically apt ponies tend to be, easily dominated in a conversation with use of authority, even more easily won over with favors of the stress-reducing kind) was entirely of her own empathetic prowess and general life experience. Mostly the former.

“Oh. Whew. Alright! Can we re-do this, please? This really didn’t go very optimally at all,” the stallion told her with a tone of now almost careless, uplifted joy.

“Garnet. Lantern.”

“Yes, we can,” Osmosis told him with a fake shrug, and backpedaled back the way she came, but not quite. “Let’s re-do this from the part where you get yourself from the floor, get yourselves relax, and arrange for us a tea. Hm?”

“Yes, Princess!” the yellow mare replied, nodding furiously, and charging to the kitchen with a stalwart look on her visibly still shock-numb face.

“Good enough,” the stallion said with a shrug, picking himself up from the corner and lifting his glasses back to cover his azure eyes. He dusted his brown-and-white knitted vest with his hooves, dangling the gilded pocket watch chain in his haste, or imprecision. “I’d like to apologize.”

“Oh, no need, it’s been worse.”

“Not for us! I mean, ahem, me and Canary have a case of the inexcusables. I mean the glimmer gems. When they started telling me we had a Princess on our doorstep, I thought something had gone wrong and rushed to turn them off! Their algorithm is to give a light show, we originally developed them for—”

It was at that point that Osmosis began to hope that Canary was not Garnet’s wife. He was something special. Not even in a sarcastic sense. Owing to her nature and occupation, she was good with ponies, as her streak of accurate assumptions was attesting to. Despite Princess Celestia’s frumping over the subject, the years they’d spent together left little of her ins and outs unexplored by her body double. She was a mare of diverse likes and dislikes, for sure, but like a lot of things Celestia, the complexity eventually boiled down into a number of rather simple things.

When it came to stallions, Garnet ticked boxes upon boxes.

‘Agreeable colors. Nice strong looking lips. Facial features… oooh, energetic. Simple clothes, peh, she likes it. No... visible penchant for cleanliness, it’s good for her. Shorn fetlocks, at least we agree that’s good. Quick eyes, really perceptive, I can see… Hop here and there, and you still feel this intelligence within, never going blank, always thinking. She likes them smart.’ The shapeshifter examined him to confirm her findings, subtly so, lest he notice. As much as she’d love to give Celestia something to be supremely awkward about, it wasn’t the most productive thing to do. ‘Monocolor mane. Faint suggestion of fuzz on the chin and cheeks. Puffy tail curvature. And a mullet, because for some utterly inexplicable reason she finds those crimes against fashion - no, nature itself! - attractive…’ Osma never got around to asking her why, partly because she didn’t find out through being told - this, like many other things on the Royal List of Romantic Attractions, was all borne of observation.

But these were far from all of the boxes that were ticked.

‘Quick talker… A chatterbox, even. Enthusiastically blunt. Disarmingly dorky.’

Those were some big boxes. If she were ever to pitch a partner to the Princess, then he would need to be one to act as an injection of what could roughly be described as "life" into her daily existence. No small feat, because Celestia’ daily existence had been thoroughly hardened by the fires of maintaining admirable (if infrequent) grumpiness despite Osmosis’ personal efforts. Which meant that this injection would need to be enthusiastic, jumpy and ideally incessant.

‘Enter Garnet Lantern.’

Unless he were married, in which case she’d push considerations pertaining to her actual task to the forefront from the background they currently inhabited within her mind. It was pretty comfortable in there, because the somewhat aloof Unicorn had gone off on an unrelated tangent, no parts of which were recognized by Osma’s subconscious as worth listening to. Her may have been a near perfect fit for Celestia, but that didn’t mean she was up for having her ears talked off with such frivolity…

“...and I just can’t believe the one time we actually needed it, I up and ruined the whole thing!” Garnet’s tangent happened to have successfully chased its own tail down and brought them to the same moment in time as about half a minute ago, when he just began rambling as Osma inspected the manor itself from the spacious hazelwood entry hallway, rendering her mind onto contemplating just how great he was. “At risk of worsening my situation, I suppose we deserve some small praise? What I mean is, everything was working quite well until I shut it down, and it was probably a surprise to you as well, possibly a good one until I ruined it? Something along those lines?”

She merely sighed in a carefully arranged chirpy tone, fluttered her eyelids and curved an ever so slightly more visible smile than usual.

‘Aaalmost a flirt. Almost. Not quite! Many birds and no stone, I am good.’

As if on cue to keep that topic hanging for potential use later on should things go awry, Canary’s voice called out from the kitchen, as did faintly fuzzy sounds of saxophone, drum, trombone and violin.

“Oh, now that is a sound I hardly expected to hear. Swing, isn’t it? Most of Canterlot does still believe this music is what marriages are broken apart with, however silly that is,” Osma pointed out with a careful tone of unmistakable approval, something quite vital whenever she spoke a sentence that had a sliver of possible negativity to it. That tended to mortify ponies and give out heart attacks, sounds of dreams crashing and burning clearly audible to a sharp ear. Not good for conversation. “Progressive.”

“It’s as if we knew you’d like it, Your Highness! With all due respect to the other Houses—”

“They have no respect for swing,” the shapeshifter continued Canary’s words, sitting herself by the table, upon which rested a highly generous helping of fresh red tea, ripe, shiny sugarcubes, and oven-puffy cake. “Oh, grovecherry cake, my favorite. Maybe you could pay in cakes? About forty would do.” She smiled openly to make sure it was understood as a joke, because something told her Celestia wouldn’t actually know what to do with forty cakes delivered to Canterlot Towers. That’d be terrible. For Osma.

The fleeting trace of ozone in the air told a lot as to the quality of Sparklegust apparating gems. These were brought in within less than a minute, presumably straight from the shops. Though they were at best one tenth as delicious as the exaltation leaking out the half-open mouths of the two high class workponies who were currently being complimented by the Princess herself. Unlike actual food, these emotions were not a source of nourishment you could tire of.

Words of pleasantries were thrown back and forth with Osmosis on low self-control for some time. Nothing important was being passed around anyway - her skill of reacting to comments as Celestia was rather refined, and if these two gave her a hook with which to dive deeper into her quest, she would react. For the time being, however, she enjoyed the quirky, jewel, swing and hazelwood atmosphere of the house, and even more so the adoration the two ponies whom she no doubt distracted from work were showering her with. Good for them. The kind of high society Unicorn that actually does work on their own is either supremely bored, and having the Princess visit is hardly ever boring, or an honest hard worker, in which case they do deserve a rest at her behest.

“...oh, but now the day is certainly looking up! We apologize again,” said Canary, having thus far not eaten particularly much of her own portion, and occasionally shooting daggers through the stallion who was in fact eating whenever he wasn’t talking. Osma hardly minded, Garnet wasn’t a noisy eater, and he even washed his hooves and face beforehand. What did ping at her mind was the constant we-we-we’ing they did. “I think we’re irreparable. Your tolerance is so, so highly appreciated.”

“Yeah! Our gems are much easier to get along with than us,” Garnet noted, nodding.

“No, I find your company quite refreshing. And the cake. I do wish you luck with seeing your devices approved,” Osmosis made an educated guess as to the source of the deep-seated anxiety she could feel within both of them as they spoke, repeatedly, about the magical things all over the house and some of Canterlot. These were some impressive functions, yet there had been no furor over them to be heard complaints about from Celestia, meaning they were not widespread yet, and it couldn’t have just been the cost. “Time will tell. I certainly am gaining an opinion, yes… Most of these seem to work as well as the two of you together,” she pointed a slippered hoof at them, causing the stallion to chuckle inadvertently, and the mare to blush with her pupils shrinking for a moment.

“Haha! And you told me this marriage couldn’t be saved! Princess Celestia herself disagrees! Goodbye divorce papers!” he exclaimed in succession, laughing in between statements. An infectious laugh. Sadly, Osma’s interior was not as gleeful as her tempered, serene, half-mirthful exterior would suggest.

“GARNET! Hush! Stop being raunchy! It’s a joke, I say it as a joke, the Princess didn’t need to—”

“Just for the record, you are not currently ruining anything. Why, all of this is in complete freefall,” Osmosis spoke vaguely with a forced shade of deviousness and took a sip of the tea. Obviously, what she really felt was heavy degrees of crestfall, frustration, irritation and disappointment. Her pet theory that they were brother and sister was safely out the window and gliding into the pile of broken hopes and dreams, presumably landing on the cushy sofa she’d been begging Celestia for for weeks because it matched her carapace so well. Indeed, these two were only a pair of incredibly close, hip-jointed, chemically reactive spouses, who until now simply happened not to look at each other in the exact way they did just then. It was a mere half a second, but it was one Osma caught, and it instantly threw away potential questions as to whether they were having any marital issues. They weren’t.

At least red tea was some remedy for disappointment.

‘I survived the sofa. I can survive not seeing him ride that silly overgrown goose and pull her maw into a smile. Maybe. Or I’ll just die now. Choke on this tea in defiance,’ she mumbled within her thoughts. ‘I won’t actually do that.’

Canary looked uncomfortable enough with her playful implication, one that likely flew over the ironically avian-named mare, possibly because she was, after all, a Princess, and she did just imply that things were going not-perfectly. Playfulness was barely a factor, one would imagine, if you were face to face with a situation where that could have been a reality. Not to have her self-indulgent remark ruin too much, Osma nodded and hummed.

“Let us blame the swing.”

Rather humorously, the married couple nodded in rapid agreement and understanding smiles, and so that awkward situation was over with. Now, it was time to see how things worked around here on the developmental side of things. Not so much magical machinery as children. Whom, come to think of it, she had not seen, if there were any.

‘Let them talk shop for a bit. They’ll bring them up on their own,’ her experience told her. ‘Or, perhaps, the lack thereof. I do expect children to swarm and fawn over me when I’m around, hmgh.’

“Well, now that all of this is behind us,” Canary spoke up, having cleared her throat for propriety. “We want to point out that everything is going according to plan. It’s just that today was supposed to be finance day, and we didn’t think you would deign us with a visit on such short notice. In fact I should agree with my husband, we did not expect you to get involved so personally. It’s been us and… well, the world, essentially, for the past few years.”

“Indeed. Actually, we thought you would be one to push the movement against us. All our correspondence up to this point has been quite strict. This is a pleasant improvement!” Garnet pointed out, cementing the fact that Osma had once again done something political without knowing. “Um. Well, at least we assume you’re partially pleased? Surely you wouldn’t sit here and share our dinner just for politeness’ sake. Some scarcely relevant House that is barely even Unicornian doesn’t call for royal etiquette, I don’t think it does.”

“Why, I’ll let you know that royal etiquette can be quite flexible if necessary,” Osma replied. “Sometimes it can’t, though. It’s a complicated mechanism.”

“We’d know all about that,” the almost-dream stallion’s wife attempted to joke politely. Not the worst attempt, some ponies carried themselves even worse when Osmosis barged into their lives and started spewing rumor and hearsay fuel while possibly affecting their lives greatly with small comments and nicety favors. “Not royal politics, I mean! I mean mechanisms.”

“I’m quite sure I understood that, thank you very much,” Osma said snidely, raising an eyebrow. Now that Canary was beginning to get used to her presence (Garnet dropped his panic defences noticeably quicker) and no longer resonated with alarm waves for miles at almost everything said to her, the picture of these two became considerably more clear. “Now, about the ones in this kitchen—”

She led them on another short bit of shop-talking, even though at first glance it had so far failed to yield any family-related results. However, that was only at first glance, whereas someone with a deeper understanding of empathetic connection would have begun noticing curious things already. Osma was one, and the void of not being able to slap Garnet onto Celestia was being filled with a different kind of enjoyment. Both Unicorns were now in a state resembling normality, and after observing them for a few minutes - miniscule body movements, bodily proximity, echoes of thoughtwaves, aural resonance… Their tendency to talk in ‘we’s more than ‘I’s.

‘How many children must they have? It does seem like they engage in relevant activities a lot... Unless they have the foresight to prevent that from happening, of course, which, hm, may be likely, considering the children are yet to join us. Likely busy elsewhere or nonexistent. Or this sort of ruckus downstairs is normal,’ Osmosis wondered to herself. ‘And how do they find any time to work? I swear, they’ve gone at it at least twice today. And I thought she was tired from working… No, that’s not how your hind legs are after working, dear mare. That is how they are when your marriage doesn’t need saving.’

“So how has spreading out been, generally speaking?” she spoke up after some time was spent discussing pastry apparition and trying not to accidentally set Equestria’s economy into overhaul by praising it too much. “You look like you work rather hard. Still doing some of your own manufacturing?” This was, obviously, a bait. Talking about work tiredness was an easy topic to hop off onto successors and family relationships from.

“Oh. Um. Ah.” It was Garnet’s turn to blush, causing Canary to blush by chain reaction. Osma flexed her neck self-appraisingly. “Do we really look like it?”

“Ehm… Finances take a lot out of you. Numbers, you don’t ever get used to them.” His wife nodded rapidly, convincing herself of her own lie. “At least we don’t. We’re very, ahm, practical-minded.”

“Ohhh, I see. What do you do when you don’t do finances, then?”

“Prrrototypes,” Garnet said in a remarkably shifty tone.

He wasn’t lying, however. In a way, Osma was talking out the side of her mouth. They didn’t look like they worked tirelessly making magical gems enchanted with various everyday household spells for non-magical ponies to use. Nobody as well-off as they are would be doing that at this rate. They looked like ponies who were doing it mostly as a very involved hobby at the stage their business had advanced to, even if they did play down how profitable it was. Making prototypes of new gems and possibly working on custom orders was probably what they did. When they weren’t doing the other, much more intriguing thing, which was currently incredibly confirmed.

“Mhm. How are your recreational activities?” She hid an impish grin. “You’re a rather inventive, flexible, productive couple. And I am planning a holiday, at some point in the future. Why, maybe I’ll go with something you could suggest.”

‘Celestia would obliterate me if she were here. If they weren’t still swooned by me, they would probably have figured out that I’m asking them to tell me to make love more often. I’m luring them into telling Princess Celestia she should get a sex life. This is wonderful.’ The shapeshifter straightened herself out and suppressed a desire to perch her snout upon her hooves and slouch salaciously. ‘They’re not that raunchy, though… Or silly. I guess I’ll settle with them struggling to preserve their own secrets.’

“We, ahm. We don’t do much that’s… terribly exciting,” Canary said with a straightened out voice, shaking her head. “Keeping our business afloat does take some work. When we’re free, we just…”

“Spend time with each other,” Garnet finished for her. “Sorry we aren’t much help. We’re just one of the few exceptions from that nasty rule. That sweethearts get fed up with one another eventually, you know?”

“Garnet…”

‘Well this is precious. Here I thought this’d let me take over the conversation. Ah, I should just bask in the romance, they’re not really hiding it much any longer,’ Osmosis thought to herself. Out loud, she said: “Oh, that is wonderful. You must fit each other perfectly. I do wish more ponies could share in that joy.”

“M-maybe,” he agreed awkwardly, shrugging and nodding, chuckling nervously. “I know we wouldn’t have been in as much luxury as we are now without it. I’m nothing without Canary’s schematics and calculus. Imagine if we ever got sick of one another, now that would be a blow!”

Canary visibly grit her teeth for a second, piercing through her husband. The gesture was fleeting, but Osma caught it rather clearly, identifying it as somewhat legitimate worry. Pragmatically thinking, he was essentially telling Princess Celestia that, as inventors of what could become a mainstay of Equestrian business, they had a rather significant vulnerability. Fortunately, this discussion had, as a matter of fact, removed itself from the realm of pragmatics, and would only return there when it was convenient. Osma could assume now, at least, who did most of the worrying when they weren’t in total shock.

“Oh, come now. We wouldn’t be here if not for your ideas,” Canary spoke with a sigh, levitating a napkin over to wipe some wetness off his stubble. “We’d still be just a footnote, maybe we’d get history students come by to see what one of Unicornia’s oldest families has turned into.”

“Well, we’re pretty historic in a few ways, I suppose,” the husband wondered, scratching his chin. “I mean, we probably set a record the other day when—”

His wife’s bewildered, bulging eyes gave away the fact Garnet was very much not supposed to speak of what he just began to blubber about. A poignant, sharp wave of abject alarm that emerged from the crevices of his very being was also a good hint. The stallion blushed profusely. The fact that his wife, her downturned lips trembling, shakily lifted a fly swatter with her horn and smacked him on the flank with it repeatedly, did not help. Osmosis pretended to be above grinning her face off at what was going on.

“PLEEEASE. Garnet was just referring to how we were working on something extremely mundane and it’s nothing worth mentioning and now that I think of it we’re probably never finishing it,” Canary attempted, pitifully, to explain the situation in terms as neutral and subversive as possible. “So the record is very much annulled and we are probably not getting back to work on that for quite a while, GARNET.”

“...yes, what she just said… as I was saying, Canary’s, uhm. A trove of ideas. Our success is more or less all up to her,” the stallion spoke downtroddenly, his hooves clasping at his temples.

“Possibly! But, yes. Whenever Garnet Lantern here is not having a nonsense-speaking attack, we are doing quite well for ourselves as far as success is concerned.”

“Not untrue. If all our dealings were up to me, though, we’d probably still have been largely irrelevant,” the guilted husband attempted to improve his standing with his wife, humbling himself in front of the Princess herself. Judging by the more relaxed breaths of the mare’s, it seemed to work. To a degree. Osma pretended not to hear Canary whisper, sidemouthedly: “You would be in the Royal Dungeons if it were up to me, Garnet Lantern...”

“Anyway! I do say that we erected ourselves from the downward slump that plagued a lot of big names,” the stallion said, his irises shrinking at realizing his word choice. This time around, both mares elected not to assault him verbally, merely piercing him with their gazes, one bemused and one scorchingly accusatory.

‘Thank you very much, here we go. We are now on track. All this tea, music and teasing does not help memory at all. This poor stallion… He’s not going to have a good time once I’m gone. Either by not having an, ahem, a good time, or by having a very bad time. I can see it in her eyes. Basking in romance can be quite exciting! Especially watching from the sidelines. Anyway, where were we?’ Osmosis nodded serenely as she lead on: “Oh yes, it is a rarity. When old Houses lose relevance, it tends to stay this way. You certainly are… paradigm shifters. I’m sure that your legacy will see Sparklegust be quite the big name for decades to come.”

“Maybe it’s fate that our family has these waves of ups and downs,” Garnet mused, perching his chin upon his hoof and narrowly maintaining propriety as he shot a glance at his wife. “I should tell you something funny, in fact. Yesterday’s Unicornian Heritage Day, you were in attendance? The play?”

“Mmm, yes?” Osma raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t where she wanted to push the conversation, but she was actually curious now.

“Would you believe that, uhm, Cresthorn the Everquesting is actually our distant relation? He was Sparklegust. We descend from one of his daughters.” The shapeshifter avoided chuckling out, despite having been taken aback. The questionable joys of living with Celestia struck again - the long discussion about said Unicorn crept up immediately. Suddenly the introspection became slightly more thought-provoking than they made it out to be. So it went. “You would think we’d be a military House, and… we were… back when my grandfather was alive. And then… Well, that was the amusing part, anyway. That was our great-great-many-times-great-grandfather’s story!”

“Who knows, maybe some time in the future, it’ll be your grandchildren’s inventions that will keep Equestria safe in dark times,” Osma dispensed some heavy praise with a blatant hint buried within.

“Let’s hope those times never come! Our shield projectors are a long way away from really working.”

“Oh! Oh, oh. Garnet!” Canary started in place, bopping her husband on the foreleg, shooting a stare through him. “Honey! Honey, the kids! We have the Princess visiting and we haven’t fetched the kids!!!”

“We—” The stallion sat in place for a few seconds, blinking absently. The ‘Princess’ sighed out in relief rather openly, neither of them were capable of noticing anyway. A deep, seething red blush set into his face as he processed the fact the rest of their family had been entirely absent throughout such an important occasion. “The kids. The kids.”

With that, he scampered off his chair, nearly knocking it off, and rushed towards the far end of the kitchen, miraculously failing to bump into the luxurious, somewhat obstructive furniture. His momentum by the end was so great that he activated the object of his destination via head-bonk. A bird’s head that had until then seemed like one of the many figure-jewels adorning many parts of the manor’s interior came aglow, shifting from placid blue to active green.

“Amélie, would you please…” He glanced back momentarily and bit his lip just barely within Osma’s field of vision. “...the kids?..”

No response followed, or was expected, seemingly, as he trotted back with a forced smile, a particularly easy thing to tell on such a stallion. It was then that Osmosis began to see some room for concern. Their ancient familial connection to the questionable individual that was Cresthorn made her feel just a little bit heavier, but it was nothing, really - they were significantly nicer ponies that served society in new and exciting ways and even had a floating mansion, the exact kind of thing their duplicitous grandsire would enjoy burning down brutally. That minor heaviness had now given way to concern. Up until now, she assumed that maybe their children were elsewhere, possibly adult, perhaps in class, outright newborn and asleep, by chance, or something of the kind - whyever else would they be excluded from meeting her? She (id est Princess Celestia) was a big deal. You would need to be newborn, in class, or an adult out of house to neglect coming down to meet her. Something was abnormal here.

“We are SO sorry. Both of us, inexcusable airheads!” Canary sputtered, leaving her seat and beckoning their visitor to follow, as both of her and her husband left the kitchen. The sounds of swing died down with a spark off the yellow mare’s horn. “You see, Princess, we just—”

“Finances. It’s the finances,” Garnet overtook her excuse, which she seemed to have found appropriate. They trotted with jolts of nervous energy up the winding stairs. Nervous energy was generally in the air, being taken in and processed. Some of the flower, fish, beast and abstract object-shaped gems flushed and pulsated, taking in the excess emotional waves. These weren’t cheap, but then, they were most likely made in-house.

‘Stress absorbers, huh… Why thank you, memory… Celie wanted these for her chambers, yes, she did. And then for an entire month there wasn’t one on the market because the Canterlot nobility bought them all up. They may be glorified remote scalp massagers that make buzzing noises in one’s ears, but it’s perhaps the notion that something is supposed to suck your stress away that counts. I mean, I can only do so much of the sucking for her. And for some reason Sparklegust weren’t to be bothered by royal commissions,’ Osmosis mused to herself as she ascended, at a considerably slow pace, the winding stairs. Mainly because that was the Celestia thing to do, albeit she did feel interested looking at all the odd shapes the gemwork took on the tall walls, seemingly all but replacing traditional records most high society ponies filled their houses with. At several intersections where it felt like there should be a floor break, there were sealed reinforced doors. Osma’s piqued curiosity mellowed down after she took a peek into one that was left open by a creak, presumably where the couple rushed downstairs from after calming down their alicorn detectors. Those were workshops, that particular one was chock-full of glowing panels with arcane symbols etched upon them. ‘Well, that could have held worse secrets. They do have to work somewhere. Not for the Princess though, apparently. Either because Sunny is cranky and all independent and doesn’t need anybody’s help… but mine… Or I may be once again messing things up showing up here. Ah well, business is silly. I’ll figure it out. These are some long stairs and I don’t think either of these two ever stay silent for this long.’

“Oh, good, there we go! Um, Princess, Princess Celestia?” she heard Canary’s voice call out to her from half a flight of stairs above. Finally, there was an excuse to speed up her regal stroll, it really was tediously slow. “Yes, yes, we, uh, we’ve got the Princess visiting! Princess, Amélie Larue, our governess. Amélie, um… Princess Celestia.”

With the husband and wife of primary visiting honor at her sides, standing in the hallway the staircase led into, was a bewildered-looking Griffon whose bright green eyes were wide, to say the least. The avian’s sparrow head was tilting slowly to the side as she visibly, if not palpably, struggled with the reality of Equestria’s supreme ruler standing in front of her. The bluish griffon was essentially frozen in place, head movements aside, even her tight black one-piece and humble bonnet didn’t seem to be budging, petrified in their owner’s blatant shock.

Amélie Larue must have been considerably good at dealing with children, then, because it took her all of four seconds to actually come to terms with all of this and revert to a markedly more proper posture, nodding her head and gesturing for Osma to come in. No regular wave of the hand either, a trained eye would recognize one of the many maneuvers as prescribed by Griffon etiquette booklets. Osma’s eye did so because she was once forced to read it start to finish and then take a test after making an immense fool of Celestia during a visit with the Griffon Kaiser. ‘Good times. Not really. Oh dear, the memories. These stress absorbers aren’t helping too much, no… Or I’m out of range. Yeah, in retrospect, these weren’t good times at all.’

“No need for excessive propriety, please…” Osmosis spoke softly out loud, eyes trailing the couple that brought her up there scamper about, mumble something to each other, and then rush downstairs. Hopefully she avoided, with this, the many, many ritualistic pleasantries she had a real threat of having to go through if this bird was as serious about etiquette as she seemed. “This ceased to be an official visit about fifteen minutes ago, myself and your employers have settled our business. Do consider me a guest.”

“Well understood, Mistress Celestia,” the Griffon nodded, her thin veil of foreign accent hiding the residual cracks in her voice. “How could I be of service?”

“Ah, for one, no need to refer to me as ‘mistress’. Unless you rescinded your Griffon citizenship, that is,” Osma said, raising a hoof, preparing to hop onto more pertinent topics. “Which I doubt is likely, because I do not see the Sparklegust family as ones to bypass employment laws. Then again, I am not in fact seeing them at all...” She sighed.

“Point taken, Princess.” Osmosis only saw that Amélie found her slightly kooky from the subtle twitches of plumage and general aural air. She was pretty good at subtlety, considering the devices on the walls only worked on ponies.

“That’s better. I do wonder, though. Are they always in such a hurry? I wished to meet their children… Do we wait for them?” Considering the Griffon was as good a third party as any, the row of straightforward questions would yield information even if they were all to somehow be deflected. “Do not worry, they’re not in trouble. Just a simple curiosity on my part.”

“Of course. Ah, yes, they are like that most times. And no, the children don't often go downstairs - we're used to... commotion.”

The shapeshifter walked around the hallway leisurely, observing the potted plants, the view out the windows, the rugs, and the comparative lack of gemwork. Floor number two looked considerably more like one’s regular luxury manor, wide, stretchy, ornamented with subtle heraldry, well-toned and furnitured. In contrast, it was clear that the main floor reflected the house’s owners considerably better, seeing how the floor design down there was significantly more curved and angled, with many other secondary chambers beyond the kitchen branching off the entry hall. All the jewel art and appliances placed throughout were also to note. Quite clearly that part of the manor was one that Garnet and Canary inhabited most of the time, and where dealings were made, seeing that it was built to impress. Despite similarities, the place a few flights of stairs above seemed an entirely different realm.

“So busy with their work, aren’t they?” Osma pondered, looking at a painting of the Westquarry Mountains on the wall - the first piece of traditional art she’d seen so far. Just modest enough.

“They are, Princess,” the Griffon confirmed, standing right to her side. “They manage their work rather well between each other. I hardly ever need to help.”

“You do seem to be lady and mistress of this part of the house, though,” Osmosis commented, noting the avian’s reaction. Despite her reservedness, her expanded pupils gave confirmation enough - Amélie didn’t expect to be complimented like that, or to have it noticed at all. Well, that was noted down. The husband and wife weren’t a big presence up here. “Do the children live up here?”

“They do, Princess.”

“Well… where are they, exactly?”

“Miss Pellet is in her room, she asked not to bother her until four o’clock. Mister Comet is in the exercise hall, he will be free in… right around the turn of the hour.” The Griffon’s eyes dashed quickly to a drawer by the wall, multiple grainy framed pictures settled upon it. Osma decided she could as well walk over there, even though it was rather clear that the governess’ attention was brought on by the fact that one of them was standing slightly uneven. The mare, however, found the actual images more interesting. “Oh, yes, you will notice these pictures look a bit different. Those are—”

“No, I know, I know. I may have a reputation for taking time to get used to things my ponies come up with, but photography has been around long enough to become relevant for one of my stature,” Osmosis said gently, rejoicing at being able to jab at Celestia (while being Celestia) without excessive socio-political fallout. ‘Innnteresting… and I spy the parents in nearly every shot. Encouraging,’ she thought to herself, rubbing her chin in ponderance. To voice out part of the thoughts that arose from the findings, she uttered: “Oh, that is curious.”

“Well, yes, as you see, Master and Mistress Sparklegust have developed a slightly more advanced method of picture-taking… We use it for family photographs. You will have noticed that the colors are more pronounced and the shadows are not as dark and heavy, especially around the eyes. And—”

“Why yes, I see that,” Osma spoke up, immediately silencing the Griffon. As undoubtedly curious as this was… “I meant this colt. Is that Comet?”

“That is, Princess.”

“He is a Pegasus.”

“Oh. Of course, you see, Master Garnet is originally of House Sparklegust, which has had a great deal of Pegasi come into union with its Unicorns over the centuries, while Mistress Canary is in fact half Pegasus,” Amélie narrated with paced tone and tact, likely having explained this to others prior. “As a Griffon myself, I do have to say pony species genetics is quite… interesting. The Pegasus inheritance within my Masters is why our manor can float so reliably when they are inside. Fortunately, Pegasus cumulus recognizes me as an aerial creature as well. Fascinating trivia, is it not?” Judging by the small sigh at the end, the avian herself was not exactly sure of that fact any longer and sought reassurement. Clearly this was asked often.

“Indeed it is! Why, with how some noble families of Canterlot behave in their marital affairs, it is hard to blame them for forgetting that we are all largely the same species and can, in fact, mate with each other.” Osma smiled, having relieved tension successfully. Also partly in mild bewilderment, most of which she kept to herself. ‘So, these are the descendents of Cresthorn the Everquesting, Pegasus-hater-in-charge’s. A house with enough pegasus blood in it to let a manor filled with unicorns float. Here I thought it was some fancy enchantment, or gem machinery. No siree.’

“Master and Mistress had their genealogical tree put up in the recreational hall if you wish to see it while we wait for Mister and Miss?” The Griffon suggested, pointing down one of the hallways in a moderately exaggerated motion. “I shall make refreshments if needed.”

“That is a good idea, please do lead the way,” the shapeshifter nodded and motioned for her to lead the way, which the bird quickly did. “And no need, your employers treated me quite well enough down in the kitchen.”

“Ah. Teleported food, was it, Princess?”

“Yes it was, quite curious indeed. It wasn’t bad at all.”

“Hm. I find it lacks some of the deeper taste. Perhaps it’s just my physiology, however.” Amélie shook her head in ambiguous assumption, taking a turn at an intersection.

‘Sooo many rooms. And so many plants. And paintings. And cupboards, and seats. And the color, and all the luxury… Well, this is homely. I wish my actual home was this homely! Celie’s level of the Towers looks less posh than the house of second-and-a-half-rate Canterlot nobility!’ Osma thought to herself with frustration brewing inside. ‘Sunny insists on ‘efficient space’ and here they are, two children and a Griffon governess here at this level, and I’m already counting eight rooms. How do I deal with her?’

“I’ve no doubt that the children enjoy your cooking. Let it be heard that the best chefs are almost unanimously Griffon,” she dropped a bag of praise to fluster the avian, having figured out that she wouldn’t continue with that topic after such a turn of events. “I can see by how orderly everything is up here that thus far you’re preserving the good name of Griffon housekeepers, too. I personally wouldn’t underestimate the capacity of two young ponies to create chaos beyond comprehension.”

“M-many thanks, Princess, I work dutifully,” Amélie replied with a light croak in her voice as they approached what must have been the recreational area. The couches, pillows, windows, and calmer colors than wood and gold, suggested as much, as did the fact that this was a corner room with no real ways out other than the one in. “But do not worry for the young Mister and Miss. They are barely ever trouble. Wonderful little ponies.”

“I suppose two grown Unicorns and a Griffon are enough to restrain the youth,” Osmosis dropped an explosive payload of implications, innocently breathing in the freshened, pine-odored air of the considerably comfortable room. Getting the details of family life was good, and finding a room of such design that she was already mapping it in her head for a future renovation pitch to Celestia wasn’t bad either.

The bird’s eyes darted over the room, checking for whether anything was out of place for the Princess’ surprise visit. A moment passed before she spoke up, choosing words with evident care.

“It’s no worry. I rarely ever need to do much when it comes to discipline.”

“I wouldn’t have expected the kids to be well-behaved at such a young age. With all respect, their parents are probably quite the inspiration. With their inheritance and upbringing, I was expecting to be swarmed soon as I stepped through the door,” Osma continued prodding, finding herself a comfortable blue cushion to seat on. The room was, in general, a departure from the rest of the house, with blues, whites, and a more circular shape. ‘Probably one of the queer glassy corners I saw outside. Adds to the spice of the exterior, good design. I sure got her cornered, huh?.. Well I’m sorry, birdie, but your lack of words tells me more than your employers’d like to know. Not sure if I like how this is looking. Or if I don’t.’

“Hmmm. Mister Comet and Miss Pellet take after their parents in subtler ways. It’s all quite… subtle, in this family, Princess.” While Amelie got out of the conversational bind she was in, she brought ‘Celestia’ an orange juice tray, complete with wiping napkins, cosmetic napkins, glass napkins, and straws. “Juice from the southern border. Remarkably refreshing. I would think it suits the occasion, too?”

“Ah, yes. The ‘Sunshine’. Well, I suppose this is now an obligation.” Osmosis smiled briefly and gave it a sip. “Reputation verified.”

“And if I may be so bold as to ask you some things… Just as a matter of curiosity, don’t take it as rudeness.” The Griffon ground her beak in controlled anxiety. “Firstly, what exactly makes you interested in Mis—”

Just as she nearly finished asking the hard hitting questions, there was a loud noise from below. A winding down, sucking, windy tone, similar to when a spell would refuse to come out of a sick unicorn’s horn. It was combined with the hum of an arcane barrier on standby, and about ten times louder than either of those sounds normally were. The entire building shook, adding the sounds of shifting magicumulus that kept it afloat, indicating that the impact was great enough for the manor to actually move a few meters. Osma regrettably failed to avoid plunging Celestia’s big, dumb snout into the tray, nearly breaking a few glasses and spilling orange juice all over herself.

“Amélie? Amélie! I’m sorry, but we, uhm. We have a situation, please come down!” Garnet’s voice, reverberating through a layer of feedback, sounded out through a formerly innocuous sapphire wall decoration.

Osmosis and the Griffon looked at each other for a few seconds, the avian’s reserved posture failing to hide the tale of many foreign expletives told by her strong emotional waves. The shapeshifter didn’t even need to focus on reading her, they were broadcast pretty clearly in the air, and emotions were normally the same, no matter the language.

“Well, go! I’m alright over here, they need you downstairs,” Osma urged her, wiping herself with a napkin that survived the spills. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. And if this house explodes because you cleaned up the spilled juice, the treasury will cover the damages.” She held back a smirk at the mental image of Celestia waking up to a huge bill from various Canterlot contractors, all of which adored overcharging for even the simplest tasks. ‘Actually, no, that is just a teensy bit suicidal. If the house does blow up, I’ll need to make sure she’s silenced. Why is everything always so hard? Egh.’

Amélie elected to remain silent, simply nodding and blinking slowly before rushing off as quickly as she could, though she still tried to seem uptight and reserved. That left the mare alone, awaiting the last pieces of evidence she needed to see if there was still an excuse under which Celestia could be directed to Sparklegust as candidates.

‘Let’s see what we have here,’ the shapeshifter pondered, admiring a jewel-dressed ficus in the corner near an unlit fireplace. ‘Here we have a family with some clear oddities, that’s for sure. Obviously, Garnet is married and their one male child has to be a teenager, at his latest. We didn’t have photographs five years ago, I would doubt they’d invent them without patenting. So it seems that the hot stud date is at least heavily dialed back. I’ll think of something there… But if we are to actually consider my task… Risky, risky, risky. First off, when the time comes, fate may just turn its sour side and we’ll end up with nothing but Pegasi for Celestia to take under her wing. Genetics, ugh. What, do I ask this Pellet to only marry Unicorn boys? And Comet to only look at Pegasus and Earth girls? I mean, maybe.’

She got up to admire some more of the regular art and flora, giving a tiny smirk as she passed by a box of toys. She sighed a little when she noticed that said toys, mostly girly ones, all appeared to be Griffon-made. They lacked the sparkle, glitter, smoothness and shine of Equestrian toys, instead being bigger, more detailed, multi-material, lifelike as well - quite a toymaker’s feat when it came to faux cosmetic sets and dollhouses. Even though they looked all quite untouched, and some of the dollhouse’s inhabitants were lacking body parts, one pony in particular having her head on backwards.

‘In any case, even though they’ll get their parents’ smarts and attitude alongside that small chance of coming out with wings and no horn… Something is really starting to tell me that Garnet and Canary are mostly interested in each other. Their work comes second. The family seems a distant third. They're working hard towards something... and to pleasure each other. The photographs are, thus far, the ooonly thing that shows that they ever go near their children at all. Actually, now that I think of it, these are essentially the reminders of the few times they did spend time together fulfillingly enough to encapsulate those moments into picture memory. Everything else about this air between the children and the parents? Amélie almost didn’t hide it, the kids are her responsibility. Yeah - most Griffon housekeepers are usually ‘maids’, not ‘governesses’. Governesses are out of style these days. Not unless you’re too occupied with one another to pay mind to your children, though, perhaps? Or if you consider the work you do more important than time spent with your own flesh and blood. Or both. Ah, I should keep an open mind.’

Osma levitated a toy magic mirror, quickly finding the switch and watching herself transform into what the device’s inbuilt magical directives thought made her look more "Princessly". Unsurprisingly, she saw Princess Celestia become bright pink with a mane of all kinds of blonde. Considering no one was around, there was no need to stifle a hearty, slightly malicious chuckle. ‘Yeah, Sunny. We’ll paint you pink, dye your mane blonde, and then you’ll adopt the hopefully Unicorn kid straight out of the cradle. And teach it your Princessly ways. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Negligent or not, domino effect or no domino effect, but family issues we can avoid by just taking the child straight away... Or when they’re really, really young… Which is questionable, buuut. Worth talking about? Me and Celie could manage it together. Hm.’

A harsh heavy feeling in the back of her head alerted her to an intrusion before her hearing picked up light hoofsteps on the wooden floor. Turning around and burying her surprise underneath a thick layer of Celestia-brand serenity, she saw a very young Unicorn filly the color of hyacinth purple, staring at her with wide maroon eyes. Her bowed up blonde mane was a little messy, and there were dark, sooty patches on her blue jumpsuit. Osma and Pellet looked at each other for some time, a silence contest the kid ended up winning.

“Well, hello there, little one,” Osmosis spoke with kindness pumped into every word. It usually helped when the children she met were filling her with raw unrefined emotion, which this one currently wasn’t. ‘The parents are too into one another to give me some love, I'm left out of the loop. Amélie is a Griffon. Now I can’t even impress a six year old for a snack. Straightforwardness, where be you? Why always so complex?’

Pellet didn’t speak back, instead shifting her wide-eyed gaze to the mirror still being levitated by the shapeshifter. ‘What? She can’t know that Celestia doesn’t have a green telekinetic aura. She probably can’t even use magic yet herself. So what’s her— Oh.’

“Is this one yours? I like it.” Osma waved the mirror in the air to make sure the kid understood her. “Do you mind if I use it for a little bit?”

A shrug was her reply. The young filly walked into the room, not taking her eyes away from the image of Princess Celestia holding her toy magic mirror while orange juice slowly dripped onto the fine white rug from the tray. It was there that she eventually moved her gaze. Osmosis was also quite moved at that moment, because in addition to that, the filly who really could not have been more than six years old - a mere newborn foal on the photographs in the hallway - lit up her horn and moved the messy tray off to a glassy table between two cupboards. The broken glasses sublimated, replaced with new ones, and the spilled juice steamed itself out of existence. To top that off, she lifted the new tray as well, and moved it back to the smaller table it rested on when Osma crashed her face into it.

‘Allll… right. This is new.’

Owing mainly to her dumbfoundedness, the mare loosened the grip on the mirror, at which point it was wrested away and made its way to the filly. The two of them stared at each other for a few moments longer, the young Unicorn not seeming to intend to talk and the shapeshifter having issues processing what she was seeing, let alone come up with a proper way to react. As such, she didn’t, tracking the young child with her gaze. The most of her output for the time being was a single chuckle, the exact meaning of which even she wasn’t sure of.

“Well, aren’t you a sorceress,” Osma said quietly, under her breath, primarily to herself. There was really no other thing to do other than acknowledge the fact that this filly had a better grip of magic than most unicorns past their adolescence. Promising ones. “I shouldn’t play with your toys, should I?”

Pellet waited for some time to give some sort of reaction, certainly giving off the feeling she was letting Equestria’s sovereign stew for a bit, making sure it was well understood who had the reigns in this conversation. All that, considering she didn’t speak a word and simply nodded without much of a change from her distantly perturbed expression.

‘I’m being shown up by a six year old. Seven at best. Is this a new low?’ Osmosis mulled in her head half-jokingly. ‘I suppose her telekinesis isn’t that stable yet, it’s all shaky and a bit slow. But then… Most Unicorns are happy if they can do more than shoot sparks out their horn at age ten. Did she never leave that power period ponies fall into right after they’re born? Is that why she won’t even say a thing?’

“Understood, then…” She put on her best inquisitive face and approached the filly, who just stared back at her with a look of faintly annoyed confusion. Like if the Princess standing in the lounge room was just a piece of furniture that the filly was sure was supposed to stand somewhere else. It was starting to feel like she was going to try to put her in order as well. “You aren’t very talkative, are you? Not even with a Princess?”

“S-she’s not, Your Majesty,” a moderately composed voice of a teenage stallion answered from the hallway. “Welcome to our humble house, I apologize for a-any inconveniences you’ve had. Mother and Father are having hectic days.”

“Are they now?” Osma asked slyly, shooting one last glance at the continuously unimpressed filly before turning toward her brother. “I was starting to think workshop explosions were par for the course.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the workshop. That was our furnace, Your Majesty. It has hiccups like these occasionally, the impact spreads from the basement.”

The older sibling was arguably putting on a better show than either of his parents when it came to handling Princess Celestia in the house. The Pegasus was indeed a teenager, no older than fourteen judging by his looks, and looked fairly presentable, in addition to only exerting an average amount of nervousness at her sight. His ocean blue eyes weren’t conquering the better part of his face, for one. His light blue coat was only slightly frazzled, his purple mane was puffed and unruly, his wings also had a few feathers jutting out of place, making them seem bigger than they were. In addition to the smell of what was most likely shampoo (Osma was not the best at recognizing stallion brands by smell), it was safe to assume that Comet finished exercising, had a shower and went to meet the Princess - all while the gemstones at the front of the house sang triumphant tunes, his parents were having a minor meltdown, and then there was an explosion. He either had self-control on par with his governess, or this was actually more or less your usual day in this place.

‘Well aren’t you promising, little mister. Alright, go ahead, pull your parents back into viability for that solar grump.’

“The basement?” she led him on to gage the normal order of things in House Sparklegust. “Isn’t your house a floating one?” In fairness, she also didn’t really know where one would fit.

“It’s underground. Father designed the furnace himself, it’s really, really good, but the shockwave is strong if it malfunctions.” Comet nodded, fixing up the tie of his everyday inhouse shirt with a negligible degree of stressful jittering. He trotted to one of the windows, pulling it open, letting some fresh air into the room even though it was already quite fresh with admittedly artificial breezes of piney air. “Once again, very, very sorry!”

“Please, young Comet, your parents have apologized enough,” Osmosis said kindly, eyeing him down and not registering more than the average flinch. She spread her wings with a level of majesty, now taking up enough space in the room to be a presence dominant enough to freely direct the flow of their interaction. She was currently the Princess, sure, but it was best to save the authority play for when it was actually necessary.

“Alright then.” The Pegasus shrugged with a small sigh, consigning to the fact that today he was having the Princess visiting over, and that was basically the state of affairs. “I shouldn’t ask, but did Mother and Father make a good impression on you? I know they were very worried about how talks would go down.”

‘I definitely flubbed something up coming here, I can tell you that much... only I can't.’

“Well I can’t just unveil my decision before it’s finalized, can I? These things take time, there is a lot to consider.” Osma nodded, content with having said nothing. In the meantime, she remained aware of the fact that Pellet was still drilling through her.

“No, I mean… Did anything, you know—” The Pegasus shook his head and waved his hoof to drop the can of worms he was getting into. “No, never mind.”

“Nothing exploded up until now, if that is what you’re asking.”

“That’s good. Shall I show you around? Or should we wait for Mother and Father in here?” Comet suggested.

“Oh, by all means, show me around. You have a peculiar mansion. I like seeing new things from time to time,” Osmosis nodded heartily, raising the young stallion’s confidence. “Speaking of new things. Your sister?..”

His eyes rolled momentarily and he trotted over to the filly, who to this very point squinted at the alicorn in the room with oblique suspicion. Breaking the contact of her eyes and the sun on the mare’s flank, her brother pushed his forehoof into her snout momentarily.

“Pellet, what have we been telling you!” he chided in a low tone, as if that was going to stop Osma from hearing him. “It’s rude to stare! Be polite, it’s the Princess!”

“I don’t wanna,” the filly finally spoke up, slightly coarse, sounding rougher than one would expect a six year old filly to.

“Pellet, I swear! It’s the Princess! THE Princess! We only have one, and she’s in this room, and you’re being—”

“Nope.”

“Pel—”

“Oh please, I don’t mind her. I’m sure I’ll get on your sister’s good side. She’s already quite special for a six year old girl, manners are tradeoff you can live with,” Osma dismissed the whole issue, smiling and closing her eyes serenely, beckoning for Comet with her wing. “Let her play around in here, I would like to see the rest of the manor.”

“I’m seven.”

“...Yes, Princess, right away. Pellet, please don’t—”

The Unicorn shot a look at her brother that was not too unlike the one she had been piercing through Osmosis with, which was answer enough. They retreated from the room, Osma shrugging and sighing to signal that this issue was behind them, while the filly closed the door behind them.

“She’s an interesting girl,” the shapeshifter said, pacing slowly after the Pegasus, being able to walk about quite leisurely as the colt trotted at a joltier speed. “Quite talented. Few are this good at magic at her age.”

“Yes, she is, she really is. She already has her cutie mark, if you could believe that, Princess,” Comet said in a more conversational tone, slowly getting even more used to her presence, letting them have a better flow of the talk. “It’s a beam piercing a gemstone, and there are pellets flying off.”

“Well, then! That’s certainly unusual… Most get their cutie marks when they’re eight or nine, some at ten.” Osma mused, nodding her head in appreciation. “Pellet is a prodigy, isn’t she? I bet the parents are proud.”

“It took me until I was ten,” Comet replied, dodging the implicit question.

“It must have been worth the wait.”

“It’s a comet dashing through a cloud,” the Pegasus said with an air of years-old disappointment. His wings twitched a little, extending to rub the flanks by instinct, gliding against the house-insignia pants the colt had on.

‘Apparently it wasn’t. Rich children these days only like their cutie marks if it’s something few others have. Their talent can be the most mundane in the world, but as long as their innate magic decides to get artistic with their flanks, it’s all good to them… And objects going through clouds has definitely been done, I suppose.’

“You’ll learn to appreciate it, young Comet.”

“Oh it’s, it’s quite alright. Now, um, this hallway was actually part of the ground floor when this house was being built. Father tells me that—”

The Pegasus was intent on upholding his promise, showing her around with some considerable dedication, and even answering a multitude of questions that were essentially designed to be so boringly specific that he would veer off into a tangent informative of his family or himself. The many issues built, if not manufactured, to distract an upstanding colt and turn him to blabbering, weren’t working to specification. It didn’t seem to throw his thoughts into disarray that it was the one and only Princess he was showing around (as far as he could know, anyway). The fact that now and again muffled thuds and quiet buzzing would be heard from far below could as well have been an everyday normality (not that unlikely, considering that one bit of peculiar information was that all the gilded surfaces were originally gold - until an unspecified project of Garnet’s turned them to highly unstable fool’s diamonds). Even questions engineered with precision to drain him of patience, such as how they got the rare hazelwood most of the house was decorated with (a Griffon commissioner that couldn’t pay in money due to the currency exchange debacle of 941 - which Osma was only partially responsible for), had little effect.

Comet was not stone-cold and unflappable unlike his younger sister, and could clearly be flustered, especially when it came to said sister, that much was for sure. He was, by most means, a decently normal colt. But he was nothing if not committed to seeming a whole lot more stable and regular than his parents or his sister. A peculiarity for sure.

‘One would think that Griffon is his mother, not Canary. That these two produced a girl that refuses to talk and a boy that acts as good and normal as a boy feasibly can before you can't call him a boy anymore… Now come and riddle me that, why don’t you?’ Osma pondered to herself, looking into the rooms, nodding along with Comet’s words, occasionally commenting on particularly well-looking furniture or ornaments, not putting a too terrible amount of thought into it. The second floor was an astoundingly average rich house. An advertiser’s booklet, clean and calculated, everything stood just in the right place to seem proper and luxurious. Almost as if this were to look at and not to live in. Only it was lived in - she could tell by the beds, the clothes hanging on racks, the items left on tables and in drawers, the photographs and other personal belongings here and there. ‘That Griffon is the one who really looks after them, isn’t she? Governess, they call her. I’m counting a whole lot similarities between her and the children, at least in how they act… All those tiny things them and their parents don’t share. I may be overestimating things, of course. It is just empathetics and subtle little gestures, after all, but the evidence has really cropped up. I mean, the last photo they’ve made with their parents was years ago, and everything Comet’s telling me about them is all things he overheard them talking about. Let’s face it. I’m looking at the children and Amélie to gauge their viability as a family for our future savior. Or, I try to fix their family life. Which will be a problem...’

“So this jukebox is your grandfather’s?” the mare clung to a comment the colt had made about an ornate, old, massive record player carved all over with heraldic imagery. “It’s an impressive piece of work. Why isn’t it downstairs?”

“Oh, Father wanted to put it there, but Mother believes it doesn’t suit the decor. It was in the workshops for a time, Miss Amélie carried it upstairs some years ago,” Comet explained, eyeing up the redwood jukebox. It stood at a size nearly rivalling that of Celestia’s, certainly dwarfing the Pegasus. “There haven’t been any complaints, so it’s filling our eastern alcove.”

“Do you use it often?”

“Pellet likes the way music sounds when played from it a lot. I don’t think I understand why, but she is… dedicated if she likes something.”

“I’ll start a tune to ingratiate myself to the little one, I think,” Osma declared, poking the carved buttons with her hoof, setting the creaky magic to work. “Ha. She was listening to something by the Dark Barrow Bellowers. That is an old band.”

“Ah, that’s what they’re called. Most of the records in this jukebox are by them, I think. Pellet doesn’t really like them, she won’t say why, though.” The young stallion stood by the old box, gliding his hoof along its side. A quiet violin tune began to play, scratchy and poppy. The sound spread through the halls, albeit it was likely barely an echo there where the younger Sparklegust child had probably remained. Good enough, considering she apparently wasn't a fan.

‘He never really paid attention to it until now. It was just a plaything of his sister’s,’ she judged him in her head, seeing how he moved his lips in silence and looked at the magimachine with full, invested eyes, not ones an item you see every day would deserve. ‘He knows where it’s from and why it’s here, but his eyes… it’s like they only just bought it. Did he never even give it any thought? This boy has a routine, methinks. I don’t think his parents do.’

“Your grandparents had decent taste in music. For their time, I mean.”

“Actually, Father and Mother were the ones who really liked listening to these. They sometimes reminisce how they danced to one of these songs for the first time. I heard Mother say that they spent their first night together with a Bellowers song last week,” Comet said with nonchalance. Osmosis suppressed an aback-taken smirk. “Which is nice, I suppose.”

“I would have thought that parents rarely talk about such things when their children are around…” she mumbled, sighing out. The sax joined the tune, further coloring the affair. Quite an implicatory instrument.

“Oh, well… ummm…” The Pegasus blushed, which Osma could frankly understand. “I wasn’t really around. I was exercising. My exercise hall is right above the living room, I can usually hear most anything they are doing when I do crunches. The floor is mostly cumulus, you see, because I’m the only—”

Fighting a desire to chuckle, and an ever greater one to actually explain to the still-innocent young teenager what his parents meant by what they said, the mare lead him on to continue the excursion. The music was kept on, as Comet was too flustered (for not nearly half the right reason) and Osma didn’t mind having some musical accompaniment as she delved deeper and deeper into the fact that Sparklegust were an unusual family. Not in a very convenient sense at that, quite unfortunately.

‘Young Comet here is an appropriate guide through this place. All these corridors, rooms, windows and alcoves… This is how a house should look like. I can see Amélie’s claw marks, proverbially speaking, on all of this. This was all copied from booklets, was it not? I’d see why if they knew I was coming far, far in advance, and I suppose they did, but the ground floor has none of this artifice to it. And up here we have the most alarmingly normal child I must have seen in my life,’ Osmosis thought to herself in increasingly gloomy tones. At least it helped that now that he was definitely used to her and broken in by his fumble, he was inadvertently feeding her with a fairly sustained stream of adoration. The fuzzy, sparkly feeling in her belly and wings helped her mood for sure. ‘The parents didn’t have any artifice to them. They also didn’t feed me a sliver of love. Locked into one another, and I suppose it’s a closed cycle. Most spouses decouple after a few years, I can suck up at least a bit there... but not with them. At the ground floor it’s all about them, and up here they pay Miss Amélie to keep their house in order, if only the house really was “theirs” up those spiraling stairs. And what is she to do, take over entirely and do things her way? That’s not what you get governesses for. I don’t think I envy anyone here. It's not like they're malicious either. They clearly see their work as important, and I really hope I didn't ruin anything coming here today.’

So they walked the expanse of the governess’ realm, until Comet sped up suddenly, looking straight ahead, agitated enough to cut off his unintentional feeding of Osma. That obviously raised her inquisitiveness, and she quickly discovered they were passing by an unusually personalized-looking area. A few rows of shelves ran along the wall, the highest of them fit with small statuettes, glass-boxed medals and a couple of bronze and silver trophies. The lower ones held chunky, awkward-looking knitted figures of ponies, each covered by a glass dome. More specifically, it was figures of white alicorns. At that point, Osma was definitely not letting Comet get away.

“Halt for a moment there. What are these? They look interesting.” She pointed to the trophies and figures with her hoof, smiling innocently. The colt flushed in return, dragging his own hoof over his face.

“Nothing… interesting, really, not worth spe—”

“Are these yours?” Osma decided to go for the jugular and essentially stated the obvious fact.

To the Pegasus’ great credit, it only took him about ten seconds to swallow his embarrassment and continue, if in a shaky tone.

“Y-yes. I take part in athletic competitions now and again. I haven’t won any. Miss Amélie insists on putting them on here, I don’t—” He rolled his eyes, munching on his lip, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “It’s really nothing to note.”

“Your governess disagrees. So do I, by the way. I find it admirable that you’re already such an industrious competitor at your young age. Most homeschooled children end up avoiding competitions.”

“Well, I— I’m not a Unicorn, all of my family are Unicorns. I can’t really get into the family business. I need to make a name for myself. So I… well, I…”

‘You silly thing. This young and already so concerned. So adult and so childish at the same time.’

“Young Comet. If you’re afraid that all these splendiferous trophies are going to enchant me into putting too much of an undeserved good word for you all over the place...” she said slyly, just narrowly avoiding slipping into her own vocal reach and staying within Celestia’s. “...then don’t worry. I’ll only put a small one. You do only have silver and bronze to show for me so far, after all.” While the colt was frozen in place, quite clearly feeling shocked that the actual reason behind his bashfulness was deciphered, she added: “Though I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll speak to some tailors I know. These little me’s are done pretty well… by teenage athlete standards, of course. I’m almost flattered.”

“...I… I didn’t want them out here either, but Miss Amélie likes them as well…” Comet gulped, shaking his head and turning around, having broken out of his shameful stasis and intent on continuing anywhere else. “A-and I make them alicorns for practice, Princess. You have wings and a horn. And white is—”

“Ah, not a fan of me.”

“No, I am! I have a poster of you in my bedroom! It was my birthday gift!” the Pegasus protested.

‘Right, there you go, mister Picture Perfect Child. I guess I am giving the Griffon my regards, he is pretty precious. Even if maybe it’s kind of unhealthy to not have any of your usual teenage flaws. I wonder how kids like him end up later in life? I don’t think I’ve ever met one before. Too bad, it’s an uncertainty now.’

“From who?” she asked him, mercifully so, since she could easily have delved deeper into how exactly much and in which way he loved her. As in, Celestia, but, realistically speaking, it’d be her he was loving. Celestia was not good with children.

“Pellet,” he replied with a sigh, mainly owing to the memory he recalled, not so much the big gates he pushed open. They revealed a sizeable reading room - a miniature library in its own right, with a pair of tall windows illuminating the chairs and couches that stood on the quaint rhombic rug in the middle. “She found out about my hobby, I guess. Got the wrong idea. She wouldn’t talk to me about it.”

“Oh, is she an artist at her age already?” Osma asked, in great part with genuinity.

“Uhm, yes.” Comet shielded his eyes with a hoof, blasted by unrefined sunlight.

‘And you’re not much of a reader. You don’t go here often, do you? This isn’t a scowl you make when you’re expecting so much light. Granted, Sunny certainly decided to live up to her name today, but it hasn’t been that stormy lately. He can’t set his eyes on one spot, anyway. It’s probably been a month or two since he’s last been here. His sister, however...’

“What an interesting girl she is. Mind if we sit?” she suggested, placing her forehooves over the back of a couch.

“Yes, that is quite alright.” He nodded, making sure to sit opposite the Princess, a pinkish blush remaining round his cheeks still. At least it had toned down from the radish red of the trophy and knitting revelations. “I probably shouldn’t falsely represent my sister, though. She didn’t actually draw the picture I mentioned. She asked Miss Amélie to have it commissioned, and most of the cost was paid with the profits from selling something she had crafted. I don’t think that much effort was necessary, if I’m honest…”

‘Or maybe Miss Amelie paid for it herself. Color me a skeptic, but she would have been about five years old around then.’ Osmosis wondered to herself. Despite having some good degree of doubt, she was willing to leave a small chance that the official version of events was in fact true. Then again… ‘What could a five year old possibly make that’d pay for a painting?’

“Little Pellet tinkers quite a lot, doesn’t she? How are your parents feeling about her pursuits at such a young age? Elated to have someone to follow in their hoofsteps, now that you’re going to branch out the Sparklegust name with your athletic and knitting pursuits, I assume?” Fortunately she was correct in the assumption that bringing up multiple touchy subjects - his hobbies, his parents and his role in the family - at the same time would not work too harsh of a job on the poor colt’s nerve. Instead he managed a significantly calmer, less disturbed response, than if he were only presented with one.

‘Score another for me… He doesn’t fold under pressure. I’m glad I was right about that. Some formative shyness and expectable anxiety, but his mind is better organized than some politicians Celie keeps around.’

“I would guess so… Mother and Father were quite worried at first. You have noticed that Pellet is very adept at magic. As you pointed out, it’s rare that ponies get cutie marks this often. All that, and other things… No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry!” Comet interrupted himself to quell Osma’s presumed fears. She was moreso intrigued than disturbed. It would seem that most people who heard about this had this sort of reaction, though. “The magic spurts took a very long time to subside for Pellet.”

‘Knew it. This is a rare, rare condition… If you can call it that. I suppose you can’t say it’s truly abnormal. Hard for me to say. I didn’t get to be a baby with immense magical powers, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.’

“Oh, really? What did your parents do about that?”

“They spent some time visiting specialists, calling in doctors. She’s fine now! Really, do not worry, Princess. After a few months they procured some sort of medicine for her, and ever since she has been a lot more stable. Over the past two years, her magic would spike now and again, but other than that, she is completely fine.”

“But it’s not just magic, is it? She is more intelligent than most fillies her age. Or about double her age, if I’m to be bluntly honest with you…” She smiled, defusing some of the heavy air with the joke. It worked surprisingly well, Comet’s adoration found its way back to her. This was definitely a topic visitors brought up often enough for him to have gotten used enough to the awkwardness surrounding it. “Describe her to a stranger, omit her age, and they would think she was your elder by a number of years.”

“That’s true. She is her own mare. Miss Amélie and her get along quite well by now. Pellet doesn’t cause any trouble if she has no reason to. Most of the time she just does something she feels interested in. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m perfectly fine with that.” His expression grew a bit more grim, though his emotions didn’t waver enough to stop feeding Osma. As a matter of fact, it was evident her presence made him feel more secure in regards to this topic. “She’s my sister, and if she’s going to be taking my parents’ best traits, then I’m happy for her. Pellet will do what she desires with her life and succeed. I mean… When her works are almost like Father’s or Mother’s, and when they break as rarely as they do, I don’t think you can argue she’ll fail a lot. If I have to, I’ll do all I need to make sure nothing gets in her way.”

“You’re a very loyal brother, young Comet. I’d not blame you if you felt envious,” the shapeshifter prodded him verbally with a palpable level of sincerity in her voice.

He looked her straight in the eyes, and for a good moment, his blue eyes were a lot more mature than even those of his father.

“I don’t. I’m a Pegasus. I’ll find my own ways to make our name proud. Pellet is the one who should go down in history, I’ll help her make it so if she wants it.” In that moment, the degree of love he expressed for his sister was so great that it not only overruled the continuous stream that was letting the shapeshifter have her fuzzy belly time, it collided with it. He spoke with such blatant, honest passion of his dedication, that despite the fact it wasn’t Celestia his emotions were directed towards, Osmosis still received a more than slightly generous helping.

Osma placed her forehooves thoughtfully on the glass table that separated them, tapping on a magically inert foggy pink sphere as she spoke. “That’s quite tou—” She didn’t finish.

“Princess?!?!?!”

It was as if she galloped straight into a pane of particularly tough glass. Or, more precisely, if she leapt onto it passionately. The ache from the sudden impact was bolstered by the fact that several books fell straight on top of her head, one soft-bound tome impaling itself on her horn. The general confusion was not helped by the fact that the spot her couch used to stand at was about half the room away. Its back was pressed hard against one of the bookshelves, which was bolted quite reliably to the floor, at least judging by the force with which the mare’s body was being gradually smushed into the couch’s back. The source of this pressure was an innocent-looking bubble that spread from the now rampant red orb. It appeared to project an expanding barrier in Osma’s general direction, folding over any physical obstacle it encountered, aside from her. Her it was content to try crushing into paste.

‘I don’t think this is meant to be happening,’ she concluded, furrowing her eyebrows at the dumbstruck Pegasus and using what of her body could move to convey the idea that he should do something. ‘Okay… this is starting to hurt. Something tells me that if I have to change form so this thing stops grinding into me, a lot of questions are going to be asked. Grinding is probably preferable. No, no, nevermind, this is getting legitimately painful.’

“This isn’t supposed to be doing any of this!” Comet clarified the obvious. “I swear we aren’t— Agh…” He scampered all around the library before finally locating an inconspicuous Unicorn head-shaped jewel on the wall, banging against it with his head in exasperation at its slow activation. “Pelleeet! Pellet, get to the library! Dad’s left something there and the Prin—”

“Hit it,” the filly’s distorted raspy voice commanded him at an unexpectedly high volume. The device choked on a helping of erratic fizzling noises before going dim and silent.

‘Great… almost all the love he’s poured into me isn’t helping anymore. I can barely feel it, it’s gone. Wow, this would have been hurting a LOT if I wasn’t fed, huh? Poor ponies.’ Osma mused, ogling the room for lack of anything else to do. She wasn’t particularly worried, just heavily inconvenienced. The sensation was pretty novel for the likes of her. It being pain, it got old rather quickly, but still, this was a suitably chaotic event to wrap up her visit of the Sparklegust family. ‘They feel pain all the time. I can at least make myself Celie, wink at someone, and then I can sit her butt in a fireplace with zero consequences. Actually, when I did that, I barely noticed it draining away at the sparkly niceties bubbling in my tummy, so this must be excruciating. Worse than what Sunny did to me after I made her look like the Elder Spirit of the Sun to those buffalos. These are supposed to be some very painful consequences… I’ll have to erase the bruises off my back after this. My wings will be so cramped, urgh.’

Comet rushed over to the sphere, which had by then changed from angry red to a more agreeable hot pink. After gulping loudly, he stomped his forehoof against it. With a loud sound akin to a combination of thunder and glass cracking, the sphere puffed a pinkish cloud, covering the Pegasus’ head entirely. While he coughed and waved the misty cloud away, Osma was finally liberated. The bubble was gone, just like that, and her heavy frame stumbled right onto the floor. After such a change in pressure, it took her a few moments to rebalance herself. It helped that she wasn’t actually a pony - even Celestia would most likely go blurry in the eyes after such an experience. Osmosis, however, could see fairly straight.

“Well!.. This was quite an experience. So you’re crafting assassination tools to take me down, I take it. I suppose this could have worked,” she joked, simulating the sounds of her neck cracking as she flexed. Fortunately her body was built to avoid such joint problems. “Maybe I’ll have it taken away to make sure it isn’t actually used against me anytime soon, though. On a serious note, could you explain what this actually was, Comet? Uh… Comet?”

The Pegasus wasn’t responding, wobbling in place, eyes looking in their own separate directions. His pupils had transformed to have a soft pink iris compartment, his wings hung limply, twitching, and there was a wide, aimless, blissful smile on his face. His tongue nearly hung out. Most of the colt’s face was covered by a ripe, bright blush. He wasn’t making too much more noise than slow, drowsy giggles and whines. Osma approached him carefully, head cocked, eyebrows raised.

She wasn’t alarmed, she was fairly sure she knew what this was. The fact his parents had this… substance, and that it was apparently part of that weapon-thing, that was a lot more curious. She stifled laughter.

‘I wonder what brand they used. Or if they make it themselves. They probably make it themselves. I wonder what ingredients they use. Celie totally needs to know. I’ll make her know. I’ll MAKE them send the recipe after this is done.’

“Ohhh deeear. Oh my. What… how did you… how did you make THAT out of THAT, Garnet? Canary?..” she spoke to herself in abject disbelief. “How?!”

The mare waved her hoof in front of the incapacitated colt. In response, he clung to it tight, rubbing his cheek and seemingly attempting to make purring noises. Osmosis sighed deeply and shook her head.

‘I can’t complain too much. Oh yes, here it comes, here it comes… Aaah, my hooves are tingly now. And my snout. And my ears. This is pretty nice. Also very awkward.’ Her eyes traced the room, working to single out the gem he used for communication back when the situation was awkward in a whole other way. ‘Where was that thing? Will they even reply? How does it even work?’

To a mare such as her, both in regards to her areas of interest and the species she belonged to, it was obvious what at least the general mode of function of that device was. Such capabilities were probably a species thing by assumption, of course, considering she was the only specimen. The knowledge of what could have caused the device to work the way it did, and, more specifically, the way it affected Comet, who was caught in the fumes, made her worry considerably less than if she had an overly affectionate addled colt clinging to her right forehoof for no reason. As a matter of fact, it made the whole affair amusing more so than anything else.

It made it clear, though, that her visit with Sparklegust was probably coming to an end. She knocked on the jewel upon having finally reached it. About three minutes of failed attempts to make it work later, she sighed and looked around shiftily.

“Great parenting, Garnet and Canary. Your son is overdosed on things you should probably keep away from children, things you put into what I think is a weapon, and some cellar emergency is more important to you. Good for you I’m more than meets the eye,” she said boastfully, mainly to help herself digest the by now more than slightly amusing situation. Telling Celestia about this was going to be… a challenge. Likely one worth the effort, though. Even imagining her face was already pretty good. “

Grunting and clicking her tongue, the mare dragged Comet to a corner, concealed behind a smaller bookshelf. She placed him, with no small effort, in an armchair, and managed to keep him in there with a harsh hoof lock.

“Comet! Comet, little one. Comet, do you hear me? Comet, nod if you can,” she spoke with as much enunciation as she could muster. Ponies affected by what he seemed to be affected by weren’t amazing at comprehending information.

“M-mmmhmmm… bwwuuuffff…” Comet nodded, at least. That meant he found her… “worthy” enough to listen to.

That was good, since, considering he was into his teenage years, his reaction was meant to be ever so slightly more rambunctious than clinging to her hoof and rubbing his cheek against it. Then again, maybe some process his father used while constructing that device altered the qualities. Regardless, now Osma knew she ran no risk of being utterly ignored. Afflicted ponies tended to be very single-track for the duration of the effect. ‘Celie may actually laugh when I tell her about this. This is up her alley. In parts. Oh why did I think this would end in some dignified, solemn manner? Not with this house it wouldn’t have. Comet will never live this down. At least I have a reason to force him to come to the Towers this evening now. This'll need discussing.’

“Good. Now be a dear for me and sit over here for… a few hours, until your parents come.” She made sure to sound as tender as possible, not a thing she was bad at. “If you don’t feel well, visit the water closet. Is that okay, sweetie? Nod.”

“Mmmwuuahh.”

‘Exceptionally awkward. Also amusing.’

The colt nodded again and slumped in the chair, letting out a pleased exhale the same moment Osma did so.

She rested her chin on the tall, plush back of the armchair, looking at the reading fire the armchair was placed in front of. A comfortable reading corner, even if taken from an interior design booklet. Her eyes passed over the thing that must have made this spot really stand out. Above the fire there was a big board of red wood, carved up with remarkable artistry. It was old, very old. A family tree. A literal family tree, or, rather, a family bark - she recognized the Everfree memoire oaks, which Celestia told her were exceptionally popular among the realm’s elite a few hundred years ago. It seemed to have overall been a good investment, making space for additional markings it added on its own as history was recited to it. Hopefully it wasn’t listening at the exact moment.

Osmosis examined the family ties, so numerous and full of specific symbols that one could study for days. She even found Cresthorn the Everquesting and Pearl White somewhere to the far, far lower left. From afar, it looked like a mosaic, what with the different shades and tones the wood took on as it developed.

‘That’s a lot of stories. I could as well stay here and study them while I wait for them to finish up down there,’ she wondered to herself. ‘Or I could save the Griffon the trouble and clean up the mess. There’s a big dent in that bookshelf. I think I broke the back of that couch, too. Family bark it is.’

As she processed the peculiar events of the day’s protege scouting operation, one thing stood out. Celestia told her the day before that romance wasn’t the answer to everything. Looking at the diverse history of Sparklegust - a military clan, a trading branch, then a few centuries of utter obscurity, then a brief reemergence in rock farming, some more obscurity after the mining crash of 854, and then the magi-engineering success of current years - she saw many symbols, most of which she could identify in the context of heraldry and history. Biggest of all, of course, was the House marking, from which the name came to begin with. The combination of the founders’ cutie marks, an identifier for any member of the House for centuries to come no matter the name and race.

However, the most pervasive and prevalent throughout the entire picture was the symbol of love, genuine love. Romance, as it were. Amazingly rarely did it show up on these barks, which was probably part of the reason they were not as common nowadays as before - the difficulty in editing the pictures they displayed after analyzing what they were told made some stories less flattering than the Houses that purchased them intended for them to be. Here, it was everywhere. Dozens of Unicorns and Pegasi bound together by bright heart symbols, even a scant few Earth individuals here and there, practically all of them bound by certified, or exceptionally skilfully faked, love. An outrageously massive loveheart was placed next to Garnet Lantern and Canary, in fact. That was the sort of thing she wanted for Celestia, which she expectedly disregarded as something that couldn’t fix everything.

‘Which is a silly thought.’

And yet, today, presumably specifically to frustrate poor Osma, love, romance, affection, passion, all of those wonderful feelings boiled down primarily into things - the source of family disunion, and a weapon with which to crush the bones of the Princess of the Sun. Also, Sparklegust’s son was suffering from a high dose of what some chemically inclined romantics would describe as the aforementioned four things put into one. Which his parents put into what was, presumably, a weapon of some kind. And left in the library.

‘So many questions, so many questions… Celestia will rake me over the coals for this. Bwah-bwah-bwah, look at this nasty thing you call ‘love’, it tears families apart, breaks couches and makes colts go loopy. Agh!’

Osmosis sighed deeply.

“What do these two even NEED that stuff for? Oh dear, I just made myself think,” she spoke to herself in a bemused whisper, trailing the descendancy lines on the firelit family bark. “Thinking is bad… Loving is good.”

“Mmm… hmmm… wwuu—”

“Shush, Comet. Quiet. Don’t… just don’t.”

This could have gone a lot more along the lines of her convenience, really.

Consequences: Aversion.

“But what I mean, Princess… is that, ahm…” The blue stallion paced around nervously, unable to bolt himself down to one place as one was expected to when discussing official matters with the Princess of the realm herself.

‘It’s not easy to blame him for this particular fumble. This situation is a veritable pickle.’

“You aren’t particularly concerned with conventions or ethical limitations, Lord Sparklegust,” Celestia helped him out, further straightening out the scattered, rambly Unicorn’s disposition by addressing him in the official manner as per his social rank. “We figured that out quite some time ago. You needn’t try to explain that to me. Really, this is very much a matter where a picture is worth a thousand words - and I do believe I’ve seen your works in person.”

‘A white half-lie. Effectively the truth. Sometimes better than the truth, actually. Ah, how I cherish having been forced to perfect the art. Now that… that is a proper lie.’

Garnet Lantern’s head drooped, ears flicking nervously. He breathed in deep, aiming to compose himself, loosening the collar of his visibly rarely-worn official vest.

“I just… didn’t assume things would develop along the lines, um…” He stumbled on his words, kicking his hind hoof absentmindedly. “...that they developed along. If I may be so bold, Your Majesty...”

“Assuming no explosions of unsanctioned payloads happen, you may.” Playing it soft with the likes of Garnet, at least the way he was presented to her by Osmosis, was not an ideal strategy. Further exemplified by her troublemaking body double asking her to be, in fact, as soft as possible with him.

‘If there was ever a more obvious ploy to get me on friendly terms with ponies I intentionally keep away from myself, Osma, then I’ll pen you a letter. On your flank.’

“Oh, heh, hemm. No issue there, I suppose. The Guard had me searched quite thoroughly, if I say so myself,” the stallion joked in return, nodding. Osma was, in fact, good for something - she noted his character and behaviors down rather accurately in the limited amount of time Celestia presented her with. Had she not, there would have been entirely too much detail. As it stood, Garnet’s ability to slip out of palpable worry into forcibly tasteful jesting didn’t surprise her as much as it otherwise could have. “I should say I’m almost worried by all the precautions, security was not quite so tight when I first presented our works for Your attention.”

“That is because back then I was not yet aware of the full capabilities of you and your spouse’s. When even innocuous items hold untold potential, it’s really best to give them a good inspection,” she followed up on his jesting with a healthy degree of seriousness. “Were you less unpredictable, you wouldn’t have missed the Canterlot Gardens sunset at its best. Now we’ll have to discuss matters under a considerably more dried shade of orange. As you can see, things tend to work out better with more simplicity, Lord Sparklegust.”

‘I invite you to wriggle out of that one, Garnet. And please, Osma, continue to cast me as an unsociable, inept excuse for a talker. I stole his joking mood, I put pressure on him, I exert authority with my every word, and I’m setting the poor thing up for a softer fall,’ the Princess pondered to herself, dissecting her own moves. She had been around ponies long enough to more or less see how this would play out. With this turn of events, it would be somewhere along the lines of “less unpleasant than an Earthen pilgrimage; more unpleasant than cakes and five unwarranted sugarcubes in every drink because Osma was a sweet tooth last night”. Celestia held a marginal appreciation for confections at best. ‘One would think that would call for more than derogatory descriptors on her part… Hmf.’

“You have that right, Princess! Simplifying and streamlining things is what our technology is all about, after all. I’m glad you understand that,” the stallion accepted her words cheerfully, lifting his forehoof in excitement, leaving the Garden’s everqueer plush grass to bounce in place for lack of pressure. “We’re merely having growing pains for now… A project is only as good as the version one unveils to the public, but hidden behind the scenes is a lot of trouble one goes through on the way.”

“I think I can assure you that searching your personal inventory for things that could conceivably explode was not part of one such grand plan,” Celestia replied with a shrug, averting her eyes. Inside, she won a battle to suppress an onslaught of deadpan monotone. ‘Amazing. My gain, my loss. I got him happy by showing him down. He has higher resilience to conversational duress than most in these past few centuries. Feeling out of time, Garnet? Stand in queue.’ In fairness, after seeing him simmer down a little and almost pout at her lack of reciprocal excitement, she felt some satisfaction. She went on: “It was simply so that there wouldn’t be a precedent for this level of security to be the norm. And on that note… you wear glasses, Lord Sparklegust, do you not?”

“Oh, yes, I normally do. Poor eyesight from birth, that would be my mother’s side genetics having—”

“Did you choose to avoid them to present yourself in a better light, or were they deemed a magical hazard by security?” the Princess shot his ramble down with a piercing question. Yet again her meddlesome shapeshifter friend had to be commended, because this Unicorn did, in fact, like to talk, especially when handling stress. “If it was the former, then I’m sorry to inform you I find bespectacled gentlecolts more well-looking.”

Garnet took the hit well enough - he blushed and folded his ears, giving a controlled smile. ‘Whatever you say puts you in an uncomfortable position. Must be disarming. Trust me, Garnet, I know the feeling. We’re in much the same pit, if only you knew. Too bad you will.’ He cleared his throat and explained:

“No, no, Your Majesty, it was the latter, naturally. I’m a married stallion, and I’d be an explosive item myself if I ever gave up my Canary, if I say so myself!” He shrugged in an expected display of poor knowledge of royal etiquette. ‘Expected and refreshing,’ she scoffed to herself as he gleamed a sparkly smile. ‘I’d worn corsets less constricting than that outdated mess. Why oh why do you keep the Council happy? Scarcely another need in the whole wide world.’

“So your glasses were considered a magical hazard, Lord Sparklegust?” Celestia shook her head and smiled serenely, exhaling. “This conversation has possibly been long overdue, then.”

“I… I-I… I understand the Guard’s concerns, but those Detonating Diamonds I had my frame encrusted with were entirely inert. Only if I were struck by lightning where I stood, specifically on the snout, no less, would they exert any kind of magical energy! And even then—”

‘Whatever, Garnet. You will build your own proverbial mausoleum if I can help it.’ Celestia sighed in lieu of spoken reply, drifting her gaze from the visitor to her setting sun. ‘You are entirely too much of a dork for me to have a pleasant time building yours.’

“Understood, Your Majesty… I just wish to set the record straight. It’d be a massive shame if all the ground we gained during today’s visit was lost. For everyone involved!” he spoke, and with a good degree of honesty.

“Threatening me, are you?” she asked in return, raising an eyebrow and pitching up her voice. It was important, when speaking to her subjects about things she was displeased with, to sound at least partially joking and playful. “I do recall being locked in a crushing stasis field that required the sacrifice of your eldest child’s dignity to release me from?” In addition to that, the thought of Osmosis being in such a predicament did in fact make her giddy with amusement.

“...not… exactly a… stasis field… yourmajesty…” Garnet squeaked in response, fumbling with his speech and sweating excessively. ‘Oh, cut it out, you… Why do my ponies always act this way when I do this? And it’s always the handsome ones that make a mess for me to sort through, no less. I feel like smacking a kitten on the face. What do I do with them, huh?.. Especially if that smack needs to be delivered…’

“I suppose I can’t be blamed, since I was being crushed by it at the moment,” the mare dripped some venom as she spoke, looking down at the rightfully nervous Unicorn. “Do elaborate then. What was that thing meant to be? And why was it in the library?”

“Okay, yes, yes, I’ll, I’ll explain! I’ll explain everything,” he promised, nodding haphazardly, gulping and inhaling to stabilize his speech. “What you had the misfortune of, um, accidentally activating, was… a wedding gift. Uh, not mine, I’m already married. We had it commissioned a while back. To make a tediously long story short, their wedding was, ahhh… indefinitely postponed, so to say, and we got to keep the part paid to us in advance, as well as the prototype. Myself and Canary worked on it in our free time. We liked the idea we had for it far too much to just abandon it”

“A wedding gift that doubles as a weapon of mass destruction. I can distinctly feel the Sparklegust flavor,” Celestia spoke sarcastically, clacking her tongue in a less than official manner. ‘Yes, Garnet, I’m very much making fun of you. The Princess herself stooping down to get your egg on. Now please don’t be submissive and start defending yourself to make my job easier, will you?’ She raised a condescending eyebrow at the blushing stallion. “It’s subtle, I know, but I can definitely see the pattern.”

“It’s… not… intended to act this way, per se. As I said, it’s merely a prototype… You see, Your Majesty, the idea was that this device - which I think we were going to turn into a… a lamp? No, a chandelier… yes, a chandelier, we were going to turn it into a chandelier once the arcanery was all in order—”

“A chandelier of marital virility, then, I assume,” she cut him off, striking once more where it hurt. Osma was good for more than mere intelligence gathering, at times like these. Thanks to her fumbles, it was almost not horrifically out of character for her to behave in such a manner. ‘I still can’t help but feel a little bit horrible.’

“...” The stallion was silent for a moment, breath evacuating out his nostrils as if he were a balloon, deflating. With near palpable, vein-bulging effort, he composed himself, shaking his head. ‘Osma must have been subtler about it to them than I just was. Good. Strip back your layers so this is over with quicker, you magitechie march hare, you.’ Garnet continued in a much shakier voice. “It was… meant to cast a little light show when activated… there were going to be multiple modes… the lights would, they would, they would make shapes, they would dance together, around the room…” He had lost his fight to remain composed. Although, it would seem that it was only partiallydue to her pressure. The creaking in his voice, the suppressed sighs, the slower inflection. ‘Well… at least it was him who made himself sad. His own fault for being so emotional. Is he even sad? Maybe the two of them just put this much soul into it.’

“Surprisingly quaint. I wouldn’t have described what struck me back in your manor as ‘light’, and ‘shape’ is perhaps a bit of an understatement. ‘Massive stasis shockwave’ is considerably more fitting, and I still fail to see how this could be part of the process, even at prototype stage.”

“We used a rejected projected shield barrier design as our starting point,” Garnet said, having drained his voice of emotion, matter-of-factly, his head hung low. “Some element of that framework interacted with the mood detector we implemented for the chandelier, and somehow enough charge surged into that mechanism for it to try to create a protector shield. That is what happened. We have no excuse… this is just how we work.”

‘I’m almost disappointed. I expected it to have been an explosive. Turns out it’s the opposite. Good enough… Let’s get this over with.’

“Am I to assume that it was rejected because it actually destroyed things it was meant to protect?” she asked.

“N-no... “ Garnet whined and hissed, ruffling his formerly neat mane with his hooves in exasperation. It likely made him feel even more insecure, though Celestia definitely preferred him like this. He wouldn’t have known, because all he saw in her face was grim dejection. ‘Why in the heavens am I eyeing this stallion up? He ruffled his mane, that is not a big deal. I like ruffled manes; I also like oranges. Do I lose focus when I see an orange? No. Then why am I losing focus now? Exactly, I’m not. Come on, help me out here, Lord Ruffles, stop digging at the ground and say something, this is hardly a good train of thought for me to be on.’ Whatever the reason for the dejection, he took it hard, and spoke even slower. “It… actually, this was the first time it projected anything remotely solid. We were never able to make it more than, than… just a thin, brittle sliver of glassy light. It faded faster than our hopes of making business with the Royal Guard… I-if you forgive my simile.”

“Simile forgiven, Lord Ru— tchpah.” Celestia grimaced lightly, rolling her eyes quite hard behind closed eyelids. “Lord Sparklegust.”

“This was all such a complete freak accident. I examined it after things had settled, before I left to meet you, Your Majesty. The remnants of the shield projector were enough to produce that… shockwave. What activated them was an unprecedented overload of sheer, ummm…” He rubbed his cheek, a habit of a stallion who kept a stubble on more often than not. For this visit, he shaved. ‘I suppose that’s good. Best not to seduce me by accident. You have very peculiar accidents, Lord Rufflegust. Very, very peculiar. I do believe I am getting ideas…’

“Go on?”

“Love energy, Your Majesty. Plainly put, you… y-you loved us so much, it overcharged the device, resurrected the shield barrier, and it then saw you as an alien object. This will probably be v-very amusing once the dust settles, eh-heh, ehhmmm.”

‘It already is, Lord Rufflegust, it already is. But more than that…’

“Very, very, very interesting.” Celestia sighed. She flexed her neck and breathed in deep, rearranging her thoughts. “Very curious. Quite unusual. This changes things, I’m sure you understand.” The Princess shot him a look.

“I do, Your Majesty.” He nodded.

The whole affair was, undoubtedly, a pickle. Somewhere in the lower-to-middle tier of pickles Celestia had been in over her long, long life. Still rather genuine. The fact that of all the Houses Osmosis could have visited at her first discretion, Sparklegust was her choice, would have been a cruel play of Fate if after her life’s many centuries, the Princess still believed in such a thing. As it stood, it was merely a remarkably poorly timed move.

Sparklegust were a thorn in the side of her conscious ever since Garnet and Canary got an audience with her as part of their patent pitch. Despite months of Celestia’s finest bureaucrats burying them in warehouses of red tape, these two persevered. They really wanted to make it big with their inventions. They really thought they had something unmistakably amazing on their hooves, technology that would change Equestria forever, fix so many ills, put their House’s name back into history where it belonged… Such simple designs that did what only the most complex, draining spells could achieve. What only the most sophisticated, hard-to-manufacture Earthen machinery could deliver. Stability was an issue, of course, as was mass-production, but they already managed so much as a mere two-pony operation. If the Princess saw it their way, it would open so many doors, not only for them, but for Equestria itself. They believed that, they did. She saw it in his and his wife’s eyes that day.

And as she observed their admittedly simplistic demonstration magitech gizmos, Princess Celestia knew one glaringly alarming thing, hidden, of course, beneath her serene exterior, one she had decided to shed at the present time. What she realized back then was simple.

Lord and Lady Sparklegust were entirely, one hundred percent, absolutely correct. This was life-changing technology. It needed not be said that, implemented gradually all over the country, it would elevate them to unquestionable main world power status. The Griffon Empire would be left untold miles behind in their dust, instead of being a fierce, if friendly, competitor that it was at the current time. With scientists and magicians on the task of refining their arcanely infused jewels, the stability kinks would be done away with in no time.

All in one fell swoop.

As she collected herself and told them to wait, as she did all that was possible to half-agree, half-allow, half-arrange, half-consider, and, above all things, delay, she was perfectly aware of all of that. It was the exact reason so much effort went into stifling their work, trying to quell their enthusiasm, working to keep them a pair of magitech tinkerers who did private commissions for a living. To her credit, it worked. Up until now, when she had to face poor, hard-working, idealistic Garnet, and somehow reject him upfront while still sounding sane. If she failed that, then, of course, there were means of censorship and whitewashing the incident in the press, but these were not means the Princess had any plans of forcing herself to use if she could help it.

He wouldn’t understand. Nobody would. Nobody should, she knew that much. The only reason she did was that she was around far longer than anyone else worthy of mentioning. Centuries of observation, not to mention ruling, taught her many things. One of the main ones was: change is extremely difficult. It was impossible to understate just how poorly Equestrian society handled change throughout its history. There was a reason they still had these long-derelict Houses, a reason there was royal etiquette, a reason half of Canterlot even had a reason to exist, there were reasons for a massive amount of things that were beyond silly once one actually thought about them. That reason was that if they were forced out and replaced over a period of time less than about a hundred years, there would be untold tumult within pony society. Equestria was a near-utopia by all accounts, and they were nothing if not tolerant to new ideas… Unless they were replacing old ones. If they were, then you could as well open the Gates of Tartarus.

As a matter of fact, there were societal reforms Celestia thought up that would have brought more chaos into the realm than actually opening the Gates of Tartarus outright. That was, if she were silly enough to do such a thing - make drastic reforms, that is, not open the Gates. Reforms such as, for instance, bringing the Royal Canterlot Voice officially and fully out of use for any occasion that currently warrants it be employed, which she personally could not even remember any of at the given moment. Celestia’s estimations showed that the high society fallout would probably be comparable to if an outright coup happened. And if pony species were no longer obligatorily written with a capital letter, thus not recognizing them as long-gone nation-states, then the harmonious Unicorn, Pegasus and Earthen society would probably revert to Three Tribes-age divides, even if the realms of Unicornia, Pegasopolis and Earthscape existed primarily on the map. Perhaps a bit too pessimistic of an outlook, sure, but it was reason enough to not even try.

‘I’m sorry, Garnet. I really, truly am. But what you and your Canary have got is too good for us to use.’ Celestia brought a smile onto her face as her and the Unicorn stood by. 'You were born in the wrong time, and when that time comes, I will tell the ponies of the future of who thought of it first. For now, though… Let’s see if I can lay you down softly.’

“In technical terms… you nearly committed regicide by negligence. Now, please, don’t— Don’t faint, Lord Sparklegust!” She was actually not even looking at him. Hearing the whimper and knowing how most ponies reacted when told such things, by the Princess no less, was enough. Standard procedure. From this point, though, her tough act was being dropped and she was becoming progressively more compassionate. The meanness served its purpose - he was going to be a lot more susceptible to her words, and he gave her enough ammunition. “We are speaking technicalities, please, I beg you. On the same technical level, your son heroically saved me from his father and mother’s unwitting crime. Things are, however, not the same after such an event. I hope you understand.”

“...” Garnet needed some time to come up with a reply, understandably. It was time she saw fit to let him have. ‘Best if you can understand at least a bit of the greater picture beyond feeling betrayed. Which, I suppose, you are. Less conjecture room is always good, however. Come on. Find those words. If I keep talking, you’ll just get overwhelmed, and then start coming up with things that never happened when you’re out of here. This is how rumors are born, Garnet, this is what makes me pretend I have a pet phoenix.’At last, he wiped the sweat that had congested all over his snout, and attempted to smoothen out his mane with his now-moist hooves. Not the cleanest stallion - then again, the situation was fairly messy as well. “Is… is there any way we can make this up? We are so close to finishing the design documents you requested last year. Can we at least… can we at least circumvent the court system? C-can we? If there’s punishment for us, then could you at least take it onto your authority? I beg you, me and Canary, we can’t waste time with paperwork… Not any more! The patenting process has already taken a great toll on our work, but we’re so close! We can’t— we can’t…”

And so the stallion went on and on, telling her everything she already knew, but with more of an emotional sting to it. Celestia blocked it out, even though the increasingly desperate Unicorn had quite the motor mouth on him. Blocking ponies’ rants out was a skill she had developed and perfected over the many years. Rarely was a good point actually made, and most of them were like this one - emotional, either elated or crestfallen. It was generally a good idea to not get too attached to the affairs of her subjects, so rejoicing along with them wasn’t desired, and feeling guilty for their misfortune wasn’t wanted. Especially when she was the source of said misfortune.

‘It’s not all lost for him. He still has decent enunciation and diction, even though I think he’s at about two and a half words per second on average right now. He could be a dictor once radio takes off nationwide. If this proves an experience traumatic enough for him and his wife to give up magi-engineering… Hopefully it won’t, if I can help it,’ she mused to herself, breathing heavily to appear sharing in the suffering stallion’s misery, eyes focused on the setting sun instead of the pony to her side. ‘Unlike his creations, that technology has a chance at seeing public acceptance while he is still young. Or, more accurately… alive. Equestria can become outrageously silly when you look at things you’ve learned to take for granted.’

“Lord Sparklegust,” Celestia spoke up when she felt he had talked for long enough. There was always a point at which ponies became calmer, more malleable, when they talked for long, intermittent periods of time. The weakness of his voice suggested this was that time. “You have all the right to be upset. I really do understand,” she spoke gently, with forced sympathy, knowing from the tone of his voice that he had mostly been begging and complaining and not being particularly constructive. “But you have to understand as well. You left an item of potentially lethal danger laying around in your library, and considering I wasn’t warned about its qualities, it’s likely your son had no idea what it did, or was so used to this sort of behavior that this seemed like the norm. I completely understand that you did not assume this sort of reaction was possible, but please, Lord Sparklegust. Cool your head and look at the way you treat your craft, in all its explosive glory. You did simply just leave it there, possibly forgetting about it afterward, too consumed with what you and Lady Sparklegust were up to, didn’t you?”

She saw him gasp to shoot back a reply, but before she could even blink, he stopped himself. With his mouth already open, he simply froze in place. His eyes pierced through the grass on the ground. His cheeks, ravaged with intense blush, gradually lost color. After a moment of internal turmoil, Garnet let the air that could have been a pointless return hiss out of his nostrils. His eyes closed, and he nodded quietly instead.

“As you recall, all those months ago, when you presented your very first prototype to me and we began the official process of securing your patent, I was optimistic, but cautious. I told you to prioritize safety above all other things. And now, when I pay you an unannounced visit... “ To fully take control of the situation and the conversation, Celestia put her gold-slippered hoof on the Unicorn’s tense shoulder. He trembled, if not from the weight. “That alone effectively nullifies our dealings.”

The stallion bit on his lip. She wasn’t looking at him, but it was loud enough for her to hear. The Princess shook her head and cleared out her thoughts.

“The fact that by all rights and means, you should now be under a criminal investigation… This simply makes things all the worse. I’m very sorry, Garnet,” she said, getting quieter, eschewing the official title for better impact. “But this is over. Your work won’t be able to continue. I will not pursue charges, of course. I know better, I know better about you and Canary.” The mare sighed, holding his body closer to hers. He was almost limp. “I know, however, that I can’t trust you to deliver Equestria into the paradise that you envisioned. I will no longer be considering your technology fit for employment on a national basis, and you will have to procure a business patent if you want to associate with any particular business.” At that point, the stallion began to audibly constrict sobs. “Which, as we both know, essentially means that you will do best to continue what has worked for you thus far. Make profit via commissions.”

‘There I go… almost done. He’s susceptible. He will accept. I guess I’m going to have to thank Osma. This is one burden off my conscience, and if not for her barging in and messing everything up, I’ll probably have kept the patent charade going until him and his wife were gone. And I suppose that if not for her tomfoolery over the years, the fact I’m all but cuddling this stallion would send Equestria into uproar. As it stands, once this story gets leaked out to the tabloids and exaggerated, it’ll be more or less business as usual. Perhaps I don’t appreciate her enough.’

She squinted and nodded to herself. Taking small steps forward, she forced Garnet to walk alongside her, eventually getting the two of them down a long, hedged path, to a marble statue - an artistic recreation of Equis, with Equestria performed in the best of detail. With a spark of her horn, she rotated it so that the Equestrian landmass faced them.

‘Maybe I should get on with this… He’s not going to be talking. I think I’ve half murdered him. Well, I suppose this is how omelettes are made. I’m sorry, Garnet, but this is for your own good, or else innocuous food metaphors won’t cover the extent of trouble you’ll have to face for the rest of your life.’

“Raise your head, Garnet Lantern. I’m afraid we’re not here without a reason.” She nudged him gently with her wing.

“Uh… Yes, y-Your Majesty? I’m…” He cleared his throat, his voice a disparate mess, made much worse by his attempts to sound proper at such a soul-crushing moment. I’m listening.”

“How long have you lived in Canterlot for?”

“For five years now, Your Majesty. We...” he spoke quietly, a shade of his ranting, begging self. “We operated out of Vanhoover until we’d gathered enough. Heh… heh, we… We purchased a floating manor so moving cost us less. It was an adventure…”

‘I guess the bubbliness and the tangents aren’t for show. This is what he’s like when his layers are all peeled back. Why do troublesome ponies have to be so attractive? I used to think my likes were oddly specific. I suppose my luck could just be even more specifically mischievous.’

“That’s… good. No, I am honest - that is good. That is good news. Unfortunately, the reason we’re here is that… Well, perhaps you haven’t lived in Canterlot long enough to have figured out why yet. Do I explain?”

“Uhm… Please do. I don’t… I don’t think I can think very—”

“I understand.” She took in breath and moved in for the kill. ‘This gambit is for the good of all of us. Yes, conscience, my darling, fine - I admit it. First and foremost it’s to have one less reminder of my failures in the immediate vicinity. In all due technicality, this doesn’t need to happen, and it can be avoided. The scales are all but balanced, though, and I have my own reasons. So let me make my case before you pound at my mind, please. Thanks in advance.’ The mare’s hoof stretched out, passing over the realm of Equestria, Garnet following the gilded shoe with his eyes. “Equestria is a very big place. A very big, very diverse place. Everywhere has something special about it. Canterlot’s specialty is… if I personally had to name one, it would be that everything has its eyes and ears on you.” She cleared her throat, frowning at a stray bead of sweat making its way onto her forehead despite being more or less cool and under control. “This is especially true for the Canterlot Elite. Of whom you are deservedly a part of. Perhaps more so than some others! I would personally have called you one of the first of a new generation of Canterlot high society. Your House is quite different from the rest, and not necessarily in that bad a way, not at all. I doubt you can deny that fact - you are hardly a purebred noble, are you, Garnet?”

“No, I don’t… think I would call myself that, Princess.”

“Well, that then means that many other Houses will have been keeping their eyes on you. Competition isn’t well-liked by some particular families, members of whom I won’t name, whose main claim to nobility is their inherited riches and bloodline. They do not like upstarts like you, even if you just so happen to be from a long-gone family that was probably nobler than theirs to begin with.” The stallion had been nodding along, and at this point she saw him mouth a less than pleased expression. Perfectly understandable - she was barely exaggerating, as unfortunate as that was. “Plainly speaking, Garnet, you have been being watched, and there are probably nasty rumors and raunchy stories being exchanged about Sparklegust at those families’ self-serving meetings and feasts. I’m being honest with you - this is how Canterlot works, and has always worked.”

“But… but we got so much business from the Elite families! They are most of our customers. They never treated us as if we were social pariahs, not on my memory,” he quasi-argued. She could tell from his tone that this was not meant to refute the point she was getting to - he merely presented an inconsistency for her to iron out for him. The stallion was susceptible and submissive to her message, that much was clear, as he still leaned limp against her leg. “Why would they…”

“Very simple. You are too useful for their interests, which are luxurious, fancy, multi-purpose pieces of jewelry with which to flaunt their wealth. To deride you would be to turn away a way to be that little bit more of a standout,” she explained. “This is, however, only so much of a benefit. It’s kept you from having the other families be openly hostile to you… up until now. Even I have to face it - trying to obscure what had happened is pointless. Everyone will know you all but had me murdered by the end of the week, and you know how rumors can grow.”

“Oh… Oh. Oh, oh no. No. But we just—” He began to realize, and she began to hold him tighter, giving at least some comfort.

“It’s an inevitability, Garnet. You will be forced out of here. I would only be able to do so by putting you under my own royal protection… which would set a questionable precedent, considering you did, in fact, put my life in peril. Once again, I hope you understand where I am coming from.”

“...I suppose it’s a good thing we invested in the floating manor, isn’t it?..” he mumbled in abject defeat, hoof pushing deep into his forehead. “I swear by the skies, I never meant for this… for… for this to…”

“I know you didn’t. Now, though…” Her hoof pointed to the Equestria on the statue. “I suggest you choose a destination and get ready to move as quickly as possible, before the rumors creep in and anyone gets any ideas. Some of the families are ridiculously loyal to royalty, and I am telling you that as royalty. They could… complicate the moving process.”

“...” Yet again, he was speechless. To his credit, this time it was slightly less defeated. She sensed a good degree of anger in there. He was recovering on an emotional level.

“I’m having the device in question taken away. We’ll keep it at the Towers, it’ll be one major piece of evidence less - that will slow down the rumors. This delay is all I can offer, though. It’s up to you to choose where you want to move and what you are going to be doing there.”

“I… I see. Yeah… Yeah, I… I see. Yes, thanks.” Garnet took in a deep breath, his ears flicking, eyes closed tight as he concentrated. ‘He’s a bit more mature than I imagined him being. Something told me he was going to bawl into my leg. That would have been extremely awkward.’ She gave him a reassuring pat, rubbing his side a little with her hoof. It seemed to help. “Thank you, Your Majesty, that is… that is more than kind. I’ll, I’ll… I’ll figure this out.”

“If you want a suggestion, I suggest Baltimare or Fillydelphia. A lot of rich merchants in those areas, not much direct contact with Canterlot, and your engineering skills could be of use there just as well.” Her hoof poked at the relevant spots on the map. “More than enough resources for you to live on comfortably.”

“We always wanted to live in Manehattan,” he said plainly.

“...really, did you now? I don’t believe I see the appeal for Sparklegust. It’s in very early stages of development, and I don’t know if there is going to be a lot more business in that area other than fishing,” she followed up on his statement. She was fairly baffled, and did feel curious as to what drove him to that place of all things - but the main reason she indulged him in that conversation was to distract. ‘Without a different topic to end the talk on, he will probably remember what exactly I said about taking that cursed shield projector. That is one dressed up lie too many. When he’s home, it’ll already be gone. It’s probably being taken away right now, in fact. I’m not going to risk losing this… peculiarity on my talk going badly. It didn’t, but if it did and there was a debacle, removing it from their possession could have been problematic. Now it’s up for my personal examination. Clandestine means to reach clandestine goals, such is the way… This is a clue in an investigation long frozen over.’ With that sorted out, she continued in genuine interest: “The Buffalo tribes nearby are still not fully negotiated with, either. Everyone… has more problems than they have money, as far as I’m aware.”

“I know,” he replied, nodding. “That is why I’ll try to convince Canary to let us move there.”

“Not concerned about money, are you?”

“Not particularly, Princess, no. We saved up enough to live comfortably for some time, even with the costs of moving being taken into account. Neither me nor my wife are in our craft to make a profit. The commissions are… mostly to make sure we stay afloat, as it were, if dark days ever hit. I suppose they have. But now, now I’ll…” He cleared his throat, having gotten flustered. The stallion sounded quite passionate. In fact, he removed himself from her reassuring grasp, gently so, and began to pace around slowly, but with a level of strength in his stride that she had to admire. It was good to see him reinvigorated so quickly, even if she could tell there would be many mood swings to come. “Now I’ll be able to turn our dark days to good. My friends from Manehattan told me enough for me to realize that we could really help. We wanted to help Equestria, of course… But now that what’s happened has happened, I’ll want to have us go there.”

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” Celestia raised an eyebrow, though her eyes looked into his with a sense of genuine approval. There was little in his aspirations she disagreed with. It was quite admirable, and definitely inhabited his subconscious on a significant enough level that, after having realized his hopes and dreams were over with, it sprung up to begin replacing them. ‘I’ve seen stallions much more mature than him take weeks to get over defeats a lot less devastating. Granted, it’s quite clear with his disposition that he’ll have his bouts of sadness, anger and apathy. Normal with such energetic ponies. I do feel he’ll be fine, though. In fact, I think he may succeed. Why if I am not better than I let myself think I am! This is turning out swell.’ She cracked the corner of a smile to encourage him further, casting her question as more approving than it may have sounded like. “Quite altruistic.”

“Well… yes! Yes, I have. It was going to be my retirement plan, since…” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled weakly. “...well, in my opinion, Manehattan would still be a fledgeling of a fishing town by when our grand work was over. Now, if Canary approves, we’ll have an early start.”

“Then I shan’t stop you. Take the hard road if you think it’s the right thing to do. Not that I think you need be lectured on success, Lord Sparklegust,” she told him, slipping fully into approval, dispelling most of the unpleasantness of this conversation, and making sure they were truly nearing the end of it by reverting to a more official title. A book-end maneuver of sorts.

“Yes, you have that right, Your Majesty.” He nodded and walked up to her, standing face to face with the mare. Or rather, face to chestpiece. “Now that I suppose we’ve discussed all the… um… pertinent questions. May I ask for an exceedingly small favor?”

“Yes?..” Celestia was a bit taken aback, as he did not seem the kind to ask for a whole lot from authority, especially after having been so gracious and thankful.

“I, um… Well, this is a reasonably private spot, what with all the security,” he spoke with anxious quickness, not dissimilar to his nervous rant from before, if less traumatized. “And I… and no, no, I don’t mean to trouble you, but, considering how we have been—”

“Lord Sparklegust… what is it?”

“Could I please hold you for just a short while? I think I am going to end up crying on my way home. Even though I’m leaving shortly… I’m more conscious now that you’ve opened my eyes.”

‘Oh for crying out loud, this was going so well. Great job, Celestia. You just have to be right about the worst things. And look at these eyes. You aren’t refusing.’

The Princess gulped and stared at the stallion with remarkably wide eyes for a scant moment, before closing them and hanging her head in defeat, sharing in a fraction of the feeling he was exposed to just some minutes ago.

‘You are also sincerely hoping this is as private as Vault says it is…’

“I really do feel bad for him, you know,” Osma muttered, eyes focused on the beauty pageant floating in front of her. “You sure we don’t want to keep an eye on them? Maybe the kids won’t be a waste.”

“No, I’m afraid not. Today’s more impactful than I think you realize,” Celestia replied while hoof-rubbing a pristine white wing, wobbling around on a thick golden pillow. “Possibly because I’m too lazy to give you the talking to you deserve for your actions today.”

“Ooor, because you’re happy that this rock is off your chest yeeears sooner than you thought, and because everything more or less worked out in the end,” the body double replied with a vixenous head-tilt. “Considering, you know, that that’s what happened.”

“Outcomes and intentions are to be judged separately, as I have to keep reminding you. Just because you didn’t ruin everything in the world doesn’t mean you couldn’t have. Every time you could have ruined everything in the world is a risk I’m not letting go unpunished. Alas, I’m too busy and we did end up with a… tolerable state of affairs,” the Princess droned, rolling her eyes, and made her wing crack particularly loudly, retreating it back to her side afterward. The massaging then continued for the other wing. “So you’re not being forced to answer five chapters of Fair Banks’ “Original Practical Applications of Outdated Economic Theory”.”

“You do realize that I’m aware the only reason you aren’t letting me give you your pre-sundown massage today,” Osmosis droned in return, mocking Celestia’s tone. “Is so that I look more selfish than I actually am and you can pretend to not depend on me to continue existing, Sunny? Perfectly aware, Miss Orange-Flanks. You aren’t even hiding it, this nastiness is radiating off you like an aura.”

“Ah, such words of wisdom from Miss Let’s-Intrude-Into-Vital-Internal-Affairs-And-Touch-Random-Magical-Items,” the alicorn shot back, only to get a rustly raspberry in response. “Don’t pretend you didn’t walk the wire this day. You narrowly avoided making decisions I’d have had to struggle to undo, but still.”

“Beh. This just seems so… cold. And abrupt, too. I see your points, I mean, I saw them first,” the multicolor insectoid mare spoke, while her horn illuminated the lilac and orange sunset-lit chamber. “They may be all aloof and single-minded, but they aren’t bad ponies. Their daughter is a magical prodigy… Their son could make a good parent in future. Should you really have had them cast away at that pretense of yours?”

“Part pretense, Osma. You saw it yourself, Sparklegust was not a Canterlot family. Even if they tried to, they would never fit in. They would try to change things, and I would imagine that they would try hard,” Celestia replied with a heavy breath, lifting herself off the pillow and looking toward the reddening sun, prepared for its cycle to be brought to an end. “You saw how dedicated they were. I don’t think they only neglected their children because they found having copious amounts of rambunctious sex with each other so enthralling.” She rolled her eyes and delivered a heavy slap to her own snout, grumbling at the sound of the shapeshifter’s chittery giggling. “I would personally say that that was what kept them going as they worked their life’s work. Work I was always going to do my best to dismiss and delay. From where I stand, I can see why they would do so. Their children would have a lacking upbringing - one they tried to smoothen out as much as possible - if what you said about their governess and the general lack of apparent child abuse was correct. Once they were older, though, they would have found a world so much better than the one we have right now… Changed with all the things they wanted to bring in.”

“I… respectfully doubt whether I can agree with that.” Osma bit on her lip, flickering her plain color eyes. As she inhaled thoughtfully, a pair of focused irises sprung up involuntarily. “It’s just so odd to imagine ponies thinking this way. They were both so bubbly and nice. Could they really have thought like this?”

“Did you feel anything that would suggest they wouldn’t have?”

“No, I don’t think I did. I just don’t think it’s likely. But then… ugh. This is such a stupid day.”

“To answer your question, by the way… No, I don’t think it was a mistake to let them leave Canterlot. Pellet’s sheer magical talent is not going to be hereditary. Comet will probably not stay as cute, smooth and balanced as you made him out to be.” Celestia planted her hooves into the floor of the balcony, aiming her horn at the sun. “And speaking of their creations, I had that device of theirs brought here and examined.”

“I’d noticed. What did your smartflanks say?”

“You didn’t ask them yourself? Good. Because I took a look at it personally, a very cursory glance.”

“Celie! Are you serious?!” Osma hissed, her irises darting angrily all over the chamber in disbelief. “You rant at me for not being thoughtful, and then you examine a thing that I think I explicitly told you could have killed me! By yourself! Why you—”

“Shush.” The Princess was fairly unflappable where she stood, eyes closed softly, horn having established a connection with the powers that moved her star. “Something Garnet and you both told me had me interested. I knew I’d have to fight through my own scientists if I were to give it over to them first, so I took initiative. As you see, I’m very much alive and unexploded.”

“Bah, you should be!” The shapeshifter huffed and crossed her forehooves. She shook her head, vaporizing the dress she was trying to coalesce into being with the few bits of emotion energy that still coursed through her body.

“This device doesn’t do anything to alicorns. It didn’t react when I touched it. It did react, however, when I simulated a little bit of your, ahm, ‘love juice’, as we call it,” Celestia explained with merely a strain in her voice.

“Equestria doesn’t need a Princess of Euphemisms! Go blow yourself up, now, it’s only fair! Or I’m never giving you the ‘love juice’ again.” The shapeshifter twisted her voice noxiously, seemingly ignoring most of what was said. “It hurts just to say the words…”

“Shush again. I manifested just a drop of what very roughly resembled it. It worked, to a lesser degree, I suppose, than it did with you.” There was a bright, brief flash coming off her horn. With a low, faint rumble, the scenery outside began to darken noticeably. “The wave passed right through me, harmlessly. Tests with greater amounts of the substance saw a few chairs and windows break, which I repaired. To me, however, Osma… It did nothing, there was no effect.”

“Uhuh. Great, keep boasting. I still can’t believe—”

“The point I’m getting at, dear Osmosis, is that you’re either sentient shape-shifting empathetic furniture, or this thing is the first clue we’ve had in years as to what exactly you actually are.” The Princess held an arguably deserved pause as the reality of the statement sunk into the scientifically unidentified insequine mare next to her. “It’s good to have some progress in that regard. I do wish it came at a different time, what with the task I’ve entrusted you with, but I’m feeling hopeful.”

“Wait… Wait, come again. How do you come to that conclusion? I’m a bit confused here.” She did indeed seem rather confused, single eyebrow raised, mouth scrunched in skeptical thought. Her nightly fashioneering was now a static blob of magical energy hanging in the air, a skeletal wireframe of a dress she was working to recreate - a hobby of hers. In light of the information, it clearly went down in priority, in spite of how she appeared enthusiastic about it after the eventful day.

“You may have forgotten, but as far as any of us are aware, the only source of that kind of raw energy in Equestria is you. Even though House Sparklegust are quiiite intimately familiar with the concept of this ‘romance’ you’re so in love with, I doubt they intended for it to react so violently when exposed to energies only your body can produce.”

“You’re… right, actually. How did they— How—”

“The ‘how’ isn’t very important. I’d expect a happy accident such as this to come from their likes. If there’s ever any suspicion, I’ll have them tracked down, but I doubt that will be necessary.”

The fact Osma chose to lean back against a couch and rub her cheek in thought instead of arguing with the alicorn spoke for itself. The shapeshifter’s body-gems grew deeper, swirling with lighter tones inside. Her webbed mane grew additional cortexes, appearing more complex. In pony terms, she was blushing.

“We may find how you came to be in these lands, do you understand? And if the Council continues to be as acceptably average as it is right now, I may just have the time to see to that personally,” the mare said warmly, lowering her head as the spell neared its completion. “I may not be you, but I can get certain things done as well. You are the socializing expert, but dealing with mystery is something that I think I have more of a knack for. It is, after all, mainly mystery because the common ponies aren’t exactly in the know, so I have an advantage on that front. Both in knowing things they shouldn’t, and in not having to work my way around them as well. Besides, I do feel I owe this to you. To take this investigation under my wing properly, that is.”

“Do you really need to, Sunny? I mean, I’m… not complaining. There are things about me that are fairly troubling, but I kind of think that the problems you’re facing at the moment are a little bit grander in scope, so to say.” The insectoid mare got up, now pacing around aimlessly with tinges of nervousness to her steps. “This could wait. And no, I’m not covering up for a conspiracy of an entire species of mind-reading emotion-devouring changelings.” She raised a forehoof in mock defense. “I’m just… I’m me. I’m alright with being me, whereas you’re not exactly alright right now. You won’t really BE alright in the long run, I can’t just douse you with, ahm, ‘love juice’ on a weekly basis! You’ll get used to it and it’ll stop having an effect. And you’re kind of more important than I am. Your wear and tear is worse than my quirks.”

“Well, that depends, dear. Let’s face it, we only have a distant understanding of how anything about you works. I had to learn a lot of biology by necessity as you were going through your formative years,” Celestia said, attempting not to put too much emphasis on the word ‘biology’, as it wasn’t her intent to be snide. “And I’ve grown to trust you enough to not do anything… overly undesired. But please, do recall five months ago. Your gemstones were flashing and you couldn’t control them, you also complained about tingling in your nubs. A year ago, you were restless for an entire week because you were hearing noises that weren’t there. And just when you hatched—”

“I… see your point. I don’t think about this very much. Frankly, it’s kind of uncomfortable,” Osma mumbled, cutting her off, pent-up frustration permeating her echoing tones. “I’m not like anyone else, even though I can be anyone else. Sometimes I feel better being you than when I’m me. The fact you keep me a secret from everyone but Captain Vault and Doctor Diamond doesn’t help that a whole lot, either. Ugh… it’s been what, over a year since I last brought this up? Sorry. The conversation called for it, and you did say that I wasn’t exactly… well-understood. Sometimes.”

Celestia was silent for a short time, hanging her head and sighing.

“Noted, Osma. And understood. I do understand, I really do. But that’s only more reason for you to be excited, don’t you see?” She turned her head and forced a smile, still splitting her focus between the spell and the conversation. “We have something that registers what is essentially your lifeblood, and affects you as a creature largely composed of it. I shan’t bore you with the scientific details, but that gives us a lot of potential progress. Doctor Diamond, for one, will probably be glad to examine something that is essentially unknown, born of the chaotic mind of two unorthodox Unicorns. In the best case scenario, we find out what you are, possibly find more of your people, solve the issues you’ve been having, and to top it all off, we get a big burden off my shoulders. You feel happier for all these things.”

The shapeshifter stopped by a column, staring into the aquarium and mouthing silent nothings to the fish. The hoof that she’d pushed into her face for support sunk quite deep, driving her thoughtful expression into the realms of the uncanny. Her transparent wings jerked and fluttered, and the consistency of her hind hooves fluctuated, creating temporary holes in her limbs. She rubbed her curved horn, leaving it with a noticeable, jaggy dent in the middle, one the mare was too flustered to fix.

“I still think you should go have a vacation,” she grumbled.

“And leave the country in your hooves, of course. Sorry to ruin the display of affection I was working so hard to get through to you, but do you mind reminding me what happened the last time I couldn’t be around for longer than five days?” the Princess replied with some degree of softness.

“But you’re not going on vacation until I find you someone to go there with. Someone who isn’t me, because I think you’d have murdered me in my sleep if I weren’t pumping you full of—”

“Precisely, Osma. That was, in fact, the period of time thanks to which I now have to pretend to enjoy cakes. My favorite confection in this entire world is a regular, standard croissant, maybe a donut, if cream-filled - and what have I been getting for dessert for the past two years? Cakes. You’re the reason I’m trying to find time to learn how to cook.”

“Aaah, I seeee, you’re pretending we’re having two different conversations and it doesn’t matter to you what I say in mine. Unfortunately, Sunny, I can actually get into your head and speak in there… but it’s such a buzz-hive when you’re doing this spell of yours, so I, ah, bleh, buaugh. Yeah, I’ve made my point, owch...” Osmosis spoke, descending into a pained whine, her words echoing through Celestia’s mind up until then. “Where was I? Right. I can’t stop you from doing this, Celie, but if you think that you’re getting me off your back with this favor, think twice. I’m finding you a partner, whether you like it or not. You’re cranky to begin with, and without love? And I mean love on an emotional level, sunshine-flanks, not what I’m helping you out with every now and again! No, this just isn’t acceptable. You aren’t maintainable if it gets any worse.”

“Of course, Osma, dear. Why, ‘love’ and ‘romance’ are so wonderful that they’re capable of, hmmm, the following: splitting families and leaving children neglected by their parents, activating lethally dangerous explosive magical devices, fueling the drives and desires of ponies whose dreams I am obliged to crush, and… Remind me, did I miss anything?” The alicorn’s words were soaked through and through with playfully smug sarcasm, one that would have lightened the air if there wasn’t a tinge of genuinity to her voice. She all but knelt as she spoke, the sun having nearly been laid to rest. Its replacement was moving out into the orbit.

“Celestia, you are so unimaginably dense that it actively hurts my innermost being. Garh! Yeah, add that information to your scientific inquiry,” the shapeshifter hissed through her teeth, her head nubs buzzing and lighting up in random patterns until she knocked herself on the temple. “Me and my origins aside. And don’t you try to tell me that I’m admitting defeat with an actual answer to your oh-so-smug fake question, I happen to be legitimately interested, is all, and am, in fact, above continuing to argue with you. Their son, Comet. He had a pretty queer reaction to the gas that came out of that thing after it was deactivated. Which you would, of course, chalk up to the atrocities of ‘love’ and ‘romance’, but that is beside the point. Could you tell me what it was, was I right about it?”

“Oh, of course! I forgot to mention, silly me,” Celestia said with a soft laugh. Somewhat unceremoniously, evening had changed to night, and her work was done. The lightness of tone seemed to reflect positively on her body double’s composure, so the gentle smile that accompanied the laugh was kept. “You were right, they did use those herbal compounds. I take my skepticism back, though I’m not taking back the frustrations of having to deal with your giggly recollections of that specific scene for what I think was ten minutes.”

The insequine mare took in a big breath and released it with an amplified, almost melodic, echoey raspberry.

“You know, the Southlander herbs. I guess they were to let their magic jewels comprehend what displays of love were like so that this thing would activate and make the scene prettier. Not the worst idea, rather creative, I have to say…”

“Great, you talked about those things, and now I’m really hungry,” Osma complained, whining in a high pitch, fluttering her wings in frustration. Seeing the alicorn’s hoof pat next to her on the couch, she shook her head. “No, no, I need to… Need to bounce around, work my jitters out. Keep going, you’ve begun to ramble-lecture again!”

“Mhm. So, you said that the fumes it puffs out whenever it’s deactivated were a side-effect and distilled. I’m delighted to inform you that they aren’t,” the Princess said smugly. Her companion replied to that with a sharp glare, which was an improvement - and a distraction - from her nervousness. “It’s seemingly designed to release these to reignite the, ahm, flames of love, if the mood was raunchy for long enough. That does mean, by the way, that by their standards, you are a walking container of perverse sex.” They exchanged looks, Celestia wiggling her eyebrows. “But the cloud is quite genuine, I was lucky to avoid its effects. I’m almost impressed that you didn’t try to lure me into getting exposed to it. Thanks for being upfront.”

“Oh, just pile all of my mistakes onto me, why don’t you,” the other mare grumbled in jest.

“That can wait, I’m all too tired to handle such a lengthy process. So yes, there is perhaps another reason I’m not going to bet on Comet to continue the genetic history of House Sparklegust, considering that according to you, he was content on huggling and general affections. Also, if you made no mistake regarding his age, which I don’t think you did.”

“...” Osma was befuddled for a moment. “Ooooh. I seeee. Yeah, I thought so.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“He’s a nice boy. I’ll make your protégé one of the children him and his future partner pick up just to SPITE you.”

“You know, the no punishment decision can still be overrulled.”

“Uuurgh.”

“Especially if you intrude into touchy politics with your next venture.”

Overture: Love

“Osma, tap the dream sphere, please,” Princess Celestia ordered, stifling a yawn. “Gently, please. And before you leave, don’t forget to air it out into the arcane exhaust holder.”

A powerful, echoing, deeply frustrated hiss-groan came out of her body double’s throat. She abided, crawling miserably to the rotating nocturnal blue sphere in the corner of the room and complaining along the way:

“Not only did I just get up, but I just sat down after doing your mane!” Osma said, among other things. “Since when am I an indentured servant?!”

The Princess neglected to answer any of her body double’s protests, instead focused on channeling her magic onto the sun. It was a remarkably swift, early sunrise, abnormally so even by the punctual Celestia’s standards.

‘At least fall isn’t in full swing yet, the sun isn’t meant to be up particularly late. This is just a little throwback to the summer,’ the Princess thought to herself. At most, the farmers are going to lose an hour or two of sleep. I’ll make this work.’

“My gauntlets, Osma. Prepare the gauntlets,” she spoke through gritted teeth, pouring in a lot of her strength into pulling the sun into proper traveling orbit.

“Aaaagh!” Osmosis screamed, throwing her hooves up in the air, as she’d just sat back down on her pillow with a magazine. She was cut short by a pink and white striped sock flying into her mouth off the still-messy bed the two of them crawled out of fifteen minutes ago. “Phflah! Which gauntlets, Celie?! You don’t just have one pair!” the mare whined, scrambling back onto her hooves.

“The pretty ones, Osma.”

“Which pretty ones?! They’re all pretty! I chose them! They’re all—”

“The regal and commanding kind of pretty.”

“What is even going on, anyway? You’ve been giving off these panic spikes since a few minutes before you woke up!” the shapeshifter asked, burying her snout in her hooves while the ceremonial dress cabinet opened slowly at her magic’s behest. “Are we being invaded or something? Am I out of the loop again?” She took on the white alicorn’s image, flexing momentarily to adjust to the size discrepancy. At the rate of one pair per five seconds, Osma began to try the gauntlets out.

Celestia took some time to answer, puffing and gulping where she stood, a solitary bead of sweat rolling down her temple. The alicorn levitated a glass of water over and downed it in a blink of an eye, clearing her throat and beginning to flex and stretch. Her concentrated, stern facial expression spoke of enough seriousness and urgency to the occasion for Osma to dig through the cabinet instead of pushing the issue.

“It’s diplomacy, Osma, complicated diplomacy that I’ll fill you in on after I’m done. And that, to note, will be a while, because I am an absolute, total, inexcusable mess,” the alicorn said, descending into a half-growl. “And forgot all about today’s arrangements up until I woke up, hence Equestria getting their sun an hour and a half too early. I’ll surrender the Badlands yet with this track record…”

The shapeshifter was looking at a pair of particularly imposing-looking amethyst-encrusted gauntlets, more stray armor pieces than royal attire, comparing them in thorough detail to the others on offer. Once the Princess’ words registered, however, she froze in place, her exterior actually growing thicker for a few seconds.

“The Badlands, you say?” she asked slowly.

“Yes, the Badlands. You see, when we say Badlands, what we really mean is not just that meddlesome desert, but also the—”

“And you’re meeting the delegation from Taurine to discuss borders and ownership rights, right?” Osmosis interjected, turning to face Celestia and staring at her with her own eyes, wide and glossy. The Princess, in turn, wasn’t looking back at her mirror image, instead massaging a stretched out wing while simultaneously lining up a set of rings and circlets on a nearby table, presumably for Osma to choose from.

“Good display of memory. Can we get to picking my horn rings then?”

It was Celestia’s turn to freeze when a pair of gauntlets hit the floor with a clank and a thud, a noise that was soon followed by the sound of her own chortling laughter. The shapeshifter pointed a hoof at her, pristine white wings flapping lightly. Her laughs took on a somewhat mocking quality when the alicorn herself rose up, confused, and stood mouth-agape, rubbing the back of her head, squinting at her body double’s odd behavior.

“Osma, I don’t have time for whatever you’re—”

“Sunny, you’re impossible. I should be mad at you, but I just… I can’t!” Osma murmured lisply, forcibly stopping her torrential mocking chortles. “It’s not today, you magnanimous dum-dum, just how did you forget?!”

“Wait.” Celestia shook her head, spreading her aetherial mane all over the place, barely bothering to straighten it back out. “Today is the sixteenth, right?”

“Yes!”

“So that means—”

“That means that at the preliminary delegation meeting, which was two months ago, I sweet-talked the Minotaurs into abandoning the whole Badlands deal because our scientific communities could take a joint effort to all the…” Osma’s natural greenish texture showed ever so slightly through her imposed visage as she had to stick a hoof in her mouth to stop another laughing fit. “...whatevers that they need that place for, I don’t remember what they’re called. The point is, since the Minotaurs are the colorful bunch of characters that they are, it’ll take them years to iron out an agreement between each other as to how to even approach us about this! Dummy! Lecturing me about diplomacy!”

‘...’ Celestia’s eyes were still and dim for a moment or two.“Oh.”

“Yeah. You woke up, let’s see, two hours early, raised the sun - confusing all of Equestria - and would have made a massive fool of yourself if I hadn’t intervened. Oh, no, you’re too kind, it’s no problem at all!” The fake alicorn swirled in place, raising a forehoof to her mouth dramatically, manufacturing a bashful blush onto her cheeks. “Nooo, don’t bring up how it’s all thanks to me that you don’t have to do any of this! No thanks required! Oh, stop it, you— HEY STOP IT”

“That’s it, I’ve had it, I’m going to—” Celestia growled with murderous determination, having tackled her own overacting body, put its neck in a leg lock, and begun to rapidly rub a forehoof against the top of its head. “—I’m going to find out what you are from the inside! Starting from the top! Now!”

“Watch it, ow, WATCH IT! I’m not, UGH— STOP IT, YOU’RE GIVING YOURSELF A NOOGIE, YOU BIMBO!!!” Celestia’s frantic, befuddled voice sputtered in between regular moans and groans as the two sizeable white mares wrangled around on the floor.

“I’ve done worse things to myself, and you know it!”

And so the two roughly identical mares continued to struggle for a few minutes longer, the genuine article remaining firmly on top. There were copious complaints and protests from the body double’s side, but Princess Celestia’s bullying session wasn’t halted even when Osmosis brought up the fact some servants could dare to enter the chamber considering the abnormal sunrise. The monarch’s ruthlessness eventually caused the shapeshifter to call uncle, but when even that wasn’t enough, she was ultimately forced to use the innate ace up her sleeve.

The abused mare lit up and fizzled for a few moments, her textures changing, limbs reshaping, objects popping in and out. Considering the repelling qualities of the magic, as well as the fact she shrunk a mild amount, that allowed her to be rid of the vicious Princess’ grip. Having regained her freedom, Osma quickly scuttled to a nearby sofa and found solace in slipping between the copious pillows and only having her snout poke outside.

“Alright… alright. I really need more self-control.” Celestia picked herself up from the floor, having fallen down when Osma wriggled out. “I’m sorry. I just had a lot of pent up stress… I’ve been so on edge lately that it didn’t even occur to me things weren’t going wrong. Then when you reminded me of what was actually going on, I… just needed a release.”

“I expect a hug,” the pillow-protected mare’s snout pointed out in her more regular voice, albeit audibly pitched around to be slightly more sympathy-inducing.

“The fact you were mockingly cackling at me while being me hardly helped matters, either,” the Princess said with enforced dismissal, swiping her sides with her wings and levitating over the pink slippers that fell off during her assault.

“I also want ice cream,” the abused shapeshifter added on.

“You know, it could be worse. I’m being serious. Now that I look back at this silly little incident, I could easily have thought this was all a nightmare of mine. It’s quite archetypical, really, with all the stress, the haze, the hurry, and then being laughed at by myself. Good thing roughing you is so inviting, I didn’t quite go down that route,” Celestia pondered, sauntering around and sipping from a glitter-spangled cup. “It’d have been such a mess reconfiguring the dream sphere. It doesn’t tend to react well to that. Heavens, it’s so good that you just ask for it all the time.”

“And dignity would be good, too.”

The white alicorn sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, trotting over to the doors and peeking outside to check for worried servants. None were there, as calmness protocols in case of unusual celestial activity were seemingly still well in place.

‘It has been quite a while since my last solar mishap. And that time, at least it was Osma’s fault. Ah… Memories,’ she reminisced, almost smiling. ‘Right, and then I have to spent the proper start of today figuring out how to smooth this over. Hardly difficult, but bothersome. Ah, well. None of the relevant ponies are up yet.’

Humming a faint tune and ignoring the increasingly frustrated, lonesome, longing sighs emerging from the rumbling pillow formation on the balcony-most couch, the Princess briskly left a few marks on the calendar, cast a spell on the chamber doors to display a busy sign (of the “carry on, not an emergency” variety), slipped into her lavender-white gown, set a tea kettle to heat up for optimal green tea temperatures, and grabbed a few wedges of orange from the food containers.

Having put the wedges on the plate and turned around to face the early sun, she was forced to groan at the sound of miserable sniffles entering tatter the attention-seeking sighs. While her brows furrowed, the mare’s mouth still found itself in a minor smile, and she resigned to seeking for Osma’s favorite kiwi ice cream, generously plopping a few balls into a glass bowl. When she sat down next to the sniffling pillows, they quickly abandoned that attribute, having caught the scent. Osmosis arose from her satin and feather asylum, gladly taking the bowl into her own telekinetic grip.

“Ah, this should keep me enslaved under your tyrannical rule for another day,” the shapeshifter commented, munching on the ice cream that was hardly too different from most of her in color. “Is that your way of saying ‘thank you for being the best secret body double anyone could ask for’?“

“No, my way of doing that is saying ‘thank you for being the best secret body double anyone could ask for, Osma’. And I do say so, by the way. And you are,” Celestia said softly, wrapping a wing around her green, gold and red companion.

“Naw, I know,” Osmosis replied, speaking directly into the mare’s mind since her mouth was full. “You’ve never really grown cold to me. I can sense your feelings. I mean, this exact moment you are feeding me a lot more lovey-beams than you tend to, but really, you’ve never hated me. At worst you’re just really, really unappreciative and ignorant of all the things I do for you,” she clarified with a smug look on her cheek-bloated face. “The ‘worst’ happens a lot though, Sunny.”

The Princess moaned in jest before taking a bite from one of the wedges. Her eyes quickly checked on the dream sphere circling around in its holding cone in a darker corner of the room. Judging by its smooth texture and consistent purple coloration, the artifact hadn’t been particularly taxed that night, which further justified Celestia slumping into the couch a little, exhaling in a loud half-yawn.

‘One less chore than there could have been. Yipee, hooray, chalk it up for tomorrow.’

One of her hind hoof slippers fell off and was completely ignored.

“Well, it certainly is good your innate empathic link keep you from feeling abandoned and hated. You see, that is your weakness,” she said. “This completely justifies my doing whatever I want to do to you so long as I still love you to some degree.”

“Oh lookie here, somebody knows how to use the L-word! Isn’t that great to know. Why, I’m willing to let you practice on me, cause you will need to say it to someone else eventually!” Osma replied telepathically, deep, echoing snickers bubbling through the barrier of munched ice cream in her maw. “Now if you’d stop thinking I would fall apart and turn to incompetent, bumbling vapor if you ever stop being a cold, distant ingrate, that’d be the best.”

“Stop being so dramatic. You act like I keep you in a cage and lash you for misbehavior. And you know what?” Celestia raised her voice in a pitch of excitement, cutting off any potential counter-arguments.

“No, Celie, that is NOT a good idea,” Osmosis interrupted her telepathically.

“—You aren’t as bad as I make you sound.” The white mare nudged her partner’s shoulder and grinned. “I’d need very selective memory to pretend things wouldn’t be a lot worse if not for you.”

The shapeshifter didn’t reply, but her brightening, more luminant body was indicator enough that she wanted more.

“I remember, oh… yes, six years ago. I didn’t think firing the rock economy dignitaries for the Vanhoover region could possibly go well under any circumstances, so I told you to handle that affair. Gosh,” the mare whispered, covering up her snout with a hoof and chuckling. “I have no idea how you managed to keep everything civil without once offering a compliment for their current course of action. I didn’t even need to act inconsistent when I put in someone who didn’t get born into the position as the provisional head of rock economy.” She rubbed her chin, eating the rest of the wedge. Her brows furrowed at the buzz of telepathic interference coming through. “And yes, Osma, don’t even start - I know you told me a dozen times, my ‘not knowing’ was a figure of speech.”

“I’m not that dense, Sunny. I just want to remind you that the correct term is ‘rockonomics’. And scientists in the field of geology get ‘rocktorates’ instead of doctorates. All thanks to your oh-so-proficient dignitary Rock Sock who was apparently so successful that he became permanent in avoidance of Earthscape’s ‘archaic laws’,” Osmosis corrected her with tonal jabs and pokes emanating from the statement even when it wasn’t being verbally spoken. The alicorn grimaced and swatted herself gently on the forehead.

“I promise, Osma, I had no idea he was like that. He seemed the right stallion for the job. Economically speaking, he was. I’d still have done everything to prevent him gaining any significance if I’d known about his quirks, though.” Her hooves pushed deep into her eyes, slowly crawling down her snout, leaving behind red marks. “Oh my dear heavens, ‘rockonomics’... Why do you do this to me, my little ponies?..”

“On with how useful I am, Celie,” Osma suggested, having consumed three ice cream balls out of five with not a moment of pause.

“Anything to wash away these words. Right… Oh, off the top of my head. The Grand Galloping Gala four years ago, when Everfree was looking like it would expand. I was so worried back then, it looked really dire. We do know now that it was the darksprite sneezer plants having their millennial pollinating season, but back then it looked like a wave of dark magic would engulf us at any moment. Ugh… I could hardly look at a scroll again after that week. It was nothing but magic, magic, magic. I would probably have exploded if I had to multitask,” Celestia spoke, eyes wide in retroactive bewilderment, staring off into a window, shaking her head. “Not to be selfish, it was probably for the best - I was very wrong not to let you do them before then. Really, Osma, if I was ever to host it by myself again, it would be such a deathly bore compared to what you do. Almost in character, no less. I didn’t have to pick up any silly habits or wear any ridiculous dresses thanks to any of your Galas!”

“Oh yes, I love the Gee-Gee-Gees. This year’s is coming up in just a month. Since you’re being so kind and sincere with me, I’ll have to undermine my own position here in a display of stunning honesty.” Osmosis halted her consummation for a moment to absorb the bits of ice cream all over her snout directly into her carapace in lieu of a napkin. “You do have to do something, Celie.”

“Wait, but— oh. Argh. Nooo…” The Princess fell on her side and her head bounced on the pillowed arm of the couch. “Curse it all. I really do need to stop putting it off. Were I less of a mess, we really should have dedicated this free time to it. Too late now.”

“Wow, I can just see you grow before my very own eyes,” Osma commented, burping chitteringly and not, in fact, looking at her companion. “That’ll be the second time in a row you didn’t even try to come up with an excuse. I guess you’ve faced that you’ll inevitably get into a situation where you need to sing and I’m not around to do it for you. I’m amazed that in all the years that passed before you got me, this issue has never once came up.”

“All who bore witness to it are long resting their souls in the high heavens,” Celestia replied monotonously.

“I trust there was no correlation?”

“It was a joke.”

“Moving on…”

Instead of the conversation moving on, there was a pause, one lengthy enough for Osmosis to finish off her ice cream and arch her back, spreading her forehooves in ice cream-fueled joy. Looking at the Princess, she pouted and shortly joined her, embracing the white mare from behind, having snuck in with tricky body shifts. The white alicorn was laying still, thoughtful and quiet, eyes aimed nowhere in particular. She pressed closer against the insectoid mare’s chest once the latter had taken on her puffier, softer comfort-mode shape.

“It’s okay,” Osma spoke softly, nuzzling Celestia’s neck.

“Thank you. I… might have accidentally made myself sadder than I realized with that comment. Fitting punishment for such an off-color joke, I suppose,” the Princess said ponderously, sighing. “Some of the things it made me think of, I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a fan of thinking them. Even if, perhaps, I do need to.”

“You know I’m here for you when you need me.”

“Yes, indeed you are.”

The two of them remained like that for a good few more minutes, until Celestia groaned and forced herself to lift her head. She immediately mumbled something incoherent under her breath and collapsed back onto the pillow, puffing air out her nostrils.

“What is it, Sunny?” Osma asked, rubbing the top of the mare’s head with her chin.

“The teapot is running overtime. It’s going to be too hot for green tea now. I wanted to brew it the proper way, just this once,” she explained. “What is worse, someone needs to get up to get that thing. Telekinesis makes it spill.”

“Well, if you put it this way, I’ll be right back,” the shapeshifter volunteered herself caringly, giving the alicorn a pat on the shoulder and slithering out onto the floor. “I’ll make it black then, yeah?”

“Sure, Osma. By the way, just how did I put it, exactly?” Celestia asked, stretching, yawning and flipping onto her back, flexing her hooves in the air. She ate two orange wedges in one go, bits of juice sprinkling onto her coat. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You said that ‘someone needs to get up’ and even justified it. Most days, you’d just boss me around. This is an improvement, Celie, you’re finally treating your closest friend with some respect!” The insectoid mare chuckled, trotting to the teapot and gathering a pair of cups.

“Oh please. Don’t be dramatic. I treat you well plenty. Besides, who knows with you? Maybe if I give you too much appreciation, you’ll just overload and explode.”

“Keep dreaming, you big bully. Alright, about eight minutes and tea’s good to go.” Osmosis flexed where she stood and quickly took on Celestia’s likeness, skipping her way to the balcony and gazing out onto the hills, forests and distant towns beyond. She spread the white wings with a murmur of content and waved to a group of Guards swooping by.

After having had enough of the scenery, and before the thought occurred to the rather relaxed Princess, her body double made her way to the dream realm protection artifact in the corner of the spacious chambers. Having successfully tricked the orb into thinking she was Celestia - a necessary precaution, as it dated back to long before she was ever around, and was important enough to not let others meddle with it - she performed the necessary venting procedures required to get the artifact to cool down before it could be set up again that night. She also picked up a sheet of orders for the Towers’ Royal Guards, cantering enthusiastically out the doors and returning not so late afterwards, having evidently found no trouble on the way there and back.

In the meantime, Celestia had forced herself to rise from the couch and walk around, a glance at the clock telling her that getting into too much of a peaceful lull would not have been the best of ideas. While she was accidentally granted a few extra hours of free time (and even those at the expense of a longer slumber), the day was still filled with things to do. Between the discussions of policy, Guard checkups, magical studies, and Canterlot elite visits to her throne room, there was a less common task. An important one at that, which made the relative stillness of the Equestrian nation and the acceptable proficiency of her staff quite the saving grace, considering she currently couldn’t count on Osma as much as she usually did in freeing up time.

“It’s a calm, quiet morning out there. They didn’t seem to be too bothered by the early sunrise. It’s just gonna be the farmers you’ll have to mess around with, Sunny. Or… Well, I was going to give another shot at my very special task today. If you want, I can make that tomorrow and do the public comments on my own,” Osmosis offered, passing by the Princess and checking on the tea.

“You know, I think I’ll handle that myself. Thanks for the offer. It’s hardly too difficult, just an hour or two of wording some messages to be sent out and talking out there in the city. And don’t get smart on me, please.” Celestia nudged her with a forehoof, taking a sniff of the near-ready brew herself. “This isn’t a veiled insult. I can’t let myself get too rusty with these things. Besides, I’m all for not having to force you to do your job.”

“Gee, thanks. I sure am useful, huh?”

The additional duty Celestia had for this day was figuring out her body double’s biological identity - following on the first clue she’d gained, at least. Less than a week had passed since Osmosis’ first foray into seeking out viable candidates for producing a protege to be trained by Celestia for Nightmare Moon’s inevitable return. Seeing how even Osma herself thought today was good enough to go and do her part, it made it all too fitting that she would try something out on her own. In a different field, of course, but still of quite some importance.

“Indeed you are. And, by the way. With some luck, perhaps today I’ll be able to shed some light on what exactly you are beyond… um, useful,” Celestia presented her plan to the mare.

“Oh, really? Is Doctor Diamond done looking over that thing, you think?” Osma said, nodding her head, and finally shedding the Princess’ guise. She meddled with the webby merigold on her head after a strong gust of wind spread it all over her snout. “Ugh, my mane!.. But, uh, I can’t say I’ve lost interest in finding out, you know?”

“I do, of course I do. I’ll try not to disappoint. We’ll reconvene in the evening.”

“Sure. Now let’s have some tea while there is still half an hour to when the sun was meant to be up...” The shapeshifter exhaled happily and dexterously poured them each a cup, levitating the platter with them onto the table by the couch. Celestia joined her there, getting her pink robe flung wide open by another windy gust, and she promptly reacted by using her magic to shut the balcony doors.

‘Why didn’t she do that ear— No, no, stop doing that. Pointless harping on minor things.’ Instead, the Princess pointed criticism at herself:

“I really should at least have tried a singing lesson instead of—”

“—feeding my ego and not doing anything useful, I know,” the insequine mare replied, teasingly twisting her words. Celestia furrowed her eyebrows.

“Hmf. You know what? No. It’s good to feed your ego sometimes.”

“A strong statement, Celie. Variety is good for you. Helps to change the way things work now and again.”

“Well, this definitely changes things,” Diamond Eye stated, his face pressed tight against an enormous microscope. “I can tell you that much.”

“That’s what I would have assumed,” Celestia said. “Anything of particular note?”

“Yes, roughly a couple hundred plausible theories…” the Court Wizard muttered, leaning even closer to the microscope, tapping a hoof against its side.

“I see,” the alicorn replied quietly, puffing out the side of her mouth and rolling her eyes.

“...have been... “ The stallion grunted, his hoof-tapping growing more intense. “...ruled ...out. This finding has been an, ahhh. Ahhhmmm…”

“Diamond?” Celestia asked the wizard, who by now looked as if he was trying to tear the microscope off its many supports. “Is everything okay?”

“What do you— “ he started, and then stayed silent and still. The alicorn could but wait awkwardly, having at least been used to her royal scientist’s specific quirks for some time. “Of course. Now that you mention it, it isn’t. My optical harness is stuck. I can’t be one hundred percent sure if I cannot remove myself from the observation slot, but in the interest of expediency, could I ask for some help with this? This is very inconvenient and I might go blind in my left eye,” the wizard clarified with an air of distant frustration at the change of topic, even raising a forehoof for emphasis. “Again, that is.”

‘Well, if he’s bothered enough to start gesturing while he speaks, he’s certainly in a bind. I haven’t seen him be this animated since last month’s check-up in the Garden.’

The Princess shook her head and magically pulled at the modest tails of the wizard’s white coat, nudging his lengthy horn back with a hoof as well, eventually forcing his snout out of the microscope. The enormous construct barely trembled, as both of them were careful not to mishandle such a valuable piece of equipment. Once Diamond Eye pulled away from the slot, the construct reconfigured itself and aimed its oculus up high, having returned to its default telescope mode.

Celestia’s Court Wizard grumbled, rubbing his temple along the slim sideburn line. The silver Unicorn straightened out his slightly crumpled white coat and turtleneck, passing a hoof over his curtained black and white mane mane as well as his smooth goatee of the same colors, for good measure. He then spent a few seconds fiddling with by far the most noticeable part of his garb - the sizeable gilded arrangement of oculi that covered nearly the entire upper left part of his face, a spire of various lenses waiting to be slipped on, positioned ergonomically around a straight metallic tube with a particularly powerful lens fixed at the end.

With a swift couple of hoof motions, he hid all the extraneous lenses somewhere within the formidable eyepiece, and he folded the tube down to less than a third of its fully extended size. Despite having become significantly less astounding with most of its features hidden, the legion of optics residing on Diamond Eye’s left eye remained more than a slight peculiarity. Celestia was used to it, of course, but it was typically a staring matter for whenever he was out in public. Not that there appeared to be many things left in the world that moved Doctor Diamond in any real way.

“I could see about fixing the observation slots to suit you better,” the Princess offered, following the stallion down a set of stairs.

“I’ve been considering that. It would be a waste of time and resources, considering that whoever inherits the micro-to-macroscope is going to have a very low likelihood of naturally acquiring the same sight issues I have,” he said matter-of-factly, levitating multiple clipboards in front of himself as he descended. “That is not considering the fact that by then, there is a non-zero chance of multimonoculars like mine having been phased out by a more elegant solution for Unicorns afflicted with chemical monocular vision loss.” The stallion’s magic pulled at the drapes hanging by the sides of the massive room-sized window of his laboratory.

Celestia sighed. The thick curtains drowned out the sunlight and replaced it with a more aesthetically fitting shade, spiced up by a variety of glowing beakers, idle lamps, and other such objects.

“Irrespective of that, my current theories as to Osmosis’ point of origin are as follows:” The scientist picked up a bundle of notes and cleared his throat. “Ancient Nightmare aspect; King Sombra-era Crystallite experiment; draconnequus co-species; space alien.”

‘Today was not going to be straightforward, I could tell that once I awoke.’

In lieu of having any meaningful comment right away, the Princess simply halted with her mouth open, and gestured aimlessly in the air with a flailing forehoof, making noises that suggested a high degree of confusion - which was mostly accurate. Diamond Eye’s nonchalant straightforwardness was one thing, the exact theories were another.

‘Suddenly my pet theory isn’t particularly far-fetched in comparison. Osma may as well be the last of a civilization we’ve never got to encounter from one of the undiscovered continents. Or this all might just be ridiculous. I am talking to Diamond Eye, correct?’

“Diamond… uh… pardon me for being blunt,” Celestia spoke weakly, clearing her throat for self-assurance. “But did you just discover the, ahm… elusive concept that is humor?”

The wizard stopped for a moment, losing grip on his clipboards. With a frustrated huff, he caught them back into his magical grip before they hit the floor and waved the question off with a hoof.

“Humor is a major subfocus of the power foci of the Element of Laughter, there is nothing to discover. More research could be devoted to exploring the magical and physical capabilities of various kinds of Laughter energy, considering that in comparison to the remaining major magical elements it has received negligible attention,” he replied dryly. “In my personal opinion, it is one of the few such topics that deserves the lack of attention it gets, at a mere fifteen tomes and sixty four articles touching upon the subject. As I’ve reported back in the year 937 in my Court Wizard application contest form thesis attachment, the most viable use of Laughter energy is in moral warfare with a sentient enemy sharing more than thirty seven percent of a common pony’s frustra—”

“I guess I was silly for thinking I would find a source of sadness in watching you change over the years on the job, Diamond. The only things that have changed over these thirteen years are your lab coats, your voice and your left eye,” Celestia thought to herself, unabashedly. rubbing a forehoof against her face. Stopping the scientist in his tracks with a gasp of air, she said, firmly and decisively: “That was a joke.”

“I was aware of that. It’s just that practical application has shown to have more value than broad theoretical understanding,” he said. “I forget you don’t share that mode of thinking. Apologies.”

“So, we were talking about Osmosis?” Celestia gave the wizard a verbal nudge to keep him from going down the same train of thought. ‘I still don’t know if this is charming or troubling. I haven’t known a single other pony like this throughout my entire life. Most geniuses are unhinged, or otherwise insane. Diamond Eye may be the sanest individual I’ve ever been aware of, I think. Too sane to be like other ponies.’

After choking on an unspoken sentence, the silver stallion stared into the floor for a second, before nodding to himself. He turned around and walked the Princess to a table in front of the draped windows, right underneath the towering tube of the telescope.

“Correct. Now, I can see you don’t find these theories particularly plausible. That is understandable, but, well…” The scientist scrunched his lips, rubbing his goatee, good eye squinting and frowning. He ended up sighing and reiterated himself: “...this discovery definitely changes things.” The tone of his voice, which changed on very rare occasions, emphasized the point even further.

“I suppose I’m ready to receive the news,” Celestia assured him, glancing over the table, wherein, to her credit, she recognized quite a number of obscure magical tools. ‘Not that I can tell what he would actually use them for in this case. Just what was in that thing?’

“Very well. Osmosis seems to contain, and mostly consist of, raw love energy. By which I mean, actual energy of the magical power of Love. On a purely literal level, that is,” the scientist said with a grain of solemnity, putting a forehoof against the table. “I am aware that you referred to her previously obscure magical energies as ‘love energy’ to begin with, but your temporary term appears to be entirely accurate. It is not simply a correlation between her abilities and how she gains sustenance - the being Osmosis is, and I employ no stylistic devices in this statement, a being of pure Love.”

The Princess blinked in response. Diamond Eye continued.

“All previous samples had been woefully contaminated and led to no conclusive results. The arcane residue within the object you brought me for inspection is virtually free of interference. It was a matter of time to perform the necessary analyses,” he claimed, the tube on his left eye extending and rearranging itself, seemingly to better inspect the orb in the middle of the table. “That has lead to a multitude of conclusions. I have gone from three hundred sixty nine theories regarding the subject of your interest, to four.”

“So I see…” Celestia said quietly, slowly. ‘My court wizard has just discovered Love. With his track record, by tonight he will reorganize his lab equipment to be powered off Love. By next afternoon, he will add at least half a dozen social policy plans that revolve around using Love on all, or parts of, Equestria. The better part of them will assume various disasters that would be ‘likely to negatively affect the nation/region’ collective psychological health’, or war with an unidentified enemy. By the end of the week he will have at least two Love-powered weapons of mass destruction planned and mocked up,’ she told herself internally as the reality of this discovery sunk in. ‘Who am I kidding? He would start with the weapons and work his way down from there. I’m going to need a good excuse to not have to seriously consider them, too.’

“Since you assured me of your interest in taking on this research yourself, I believe I should elaborate on my theories, is that correct?” he drove the mare out of her stupor, piercing her with his gaze. Granted, that was primarily due to the intense magnification of one of his eyes. “In case your interest has dwindled, my offer of more conclusive analysis via surgery remains.”

“No, no thanks, Diamond, no need for that. Go ahead. I can’t say I’m not intrigued,” she replied. ‘It is not easy to stay aloof with ponies like this at your side. Not that I don’t still manage it, but at least this justifies my personell choices. Love… he has discovered Love… I can’t ev— Attention, pay attention.’’

“Very well. As I said, Osmosis is a being who is almost as much raw Love energy as we are Arcane, or, more accurately, water, on the physical level. That is absolutely abnormal and, considering what I was able to find during testing of its matter, should not naturally occur. Thus, my first thought was that she may be directly related to the parasitic entity that feasted upon your sister nine hundred and forty nine full years ago,” he spoke with armor-piercing directness. Celestia winced, as that particular subject had only ever been brought up by herself over the past few years. “If your accounts of that particular incident are correct, Osmosis may be the result of a different entity taking over either an equine or an insectoid sentient creature of some variety. I am assuming equine, since an insectoid physical manifestation is generally likely in parasitic arcane energies.”

“But… my sister… her behavior was nothing like Osma’s,” the alicorn half-whispered, eyes choosing to drill through the orb on the table rather than meet her court wizard’s. “How would such a creature result from a Nightmare taking over someone?”

“One of the two weak points of this theory. The sample size for Nightmare infestation is low and the accounts lack necessary numerical details. I mean no offense.” Diamond Eye raised a forehoof in deflection of nonexistent accusations and turned his eyes away from her for a moment. Nevertheless, he continued: “If I were to make an educated assumption, this Nightmare would be borne of a desperate hunger for various emotions that tie into Love. In much the same way that your sister became an embodiment of Darkness due to detesting the adoration you received and associating it with sunlight, this particular individual would have drawn the Nightmare to themselves through repulsing concepts such as hatred, strife and violence and associating them with the static nature of one’s identity. Only a theory, of course.”

“What would the other weak point be, then?..”

“This does not explain the fact Osmosis was in cocoon form when you discovered her. That does not fit with the typical behaviors of Nightmare entites. However, once again, the low sample size and lack of research material—”

“I understand that. I… won’t make any judgements just yet. Do move on, Diamond.” Celestia nodded at him with her eyes closed, exhaling loudly. ‘You knew what you were getting into. Best to hope that the other theories are more appealing to get into. I would rather not dive back into this particular… unpleasantness.’

“As you say. For my next theory, I have to say that tying the obscure activities of the Crystal Empire under the short-lived reign of King Sombra into Osmosis’ birth was not my first thought, but after scanning relevant literature from the archives, I found correlations that could not be ignored. The intense magical capacity of the many crystals found uniquely in the Crystal Empire meant that its scientists had greater capabilities for weapon research than Equestria proper at any point in its history,” he carried on before abruptly stopping. Diamond’s hoof borderline slapped his forehead and he loudly ground his teeth. Before Celestia could raise a voice of concern, he continued: “As I will… elaborate later… on a different topic… of discussion…”

The Princess put a comforting forehoof against his shoulders and patted him on the back, sighing loudly. ‘Too sane doesn’t mean bereft of issues, I guess. I wonder how it is, having a mind so focused thinking about two concurrent topics causes you physical pain? Heavens, I don’t think I should.’ She smiled to herself sadly. ‘At least I can never expect him, with all his propensity for weapon research and assumptions of war, to launch a coup against me. He is smart enough to know his mind would implode on day one of the neverending carousel ride that is ruling Equestria. I am an optimist, aren’t I? Sunny is a fitting nickname, I suppose.’

“...use of Love energy in magical weaponry is… a viable choice in regards to combatting sentient threats drawing power from that energy’s many opposites. King Sombra was one such threat, and his extreme magical ability would, with the correct application of Love, only multiply the effect. Thus, he would be erased from existence,” Diamond Eye said, having managed to restore his healthy straightforward matter-of-factness. ‘I would hope that I helped. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, and asking makes it worse,” Celestia thought to herself.

Out loud, she asked: “That would mean Osma was created by some of the un-enslaved scientists as a means to battle King Sombra?”

“Correct. While in ideal circumstances, an arcane prism arc thrower would have had the required effect, there are factors that justify them creating a sentient construct of sorts, to perform that task. First of all, there is no knowledge of the resources at the rebelling Crystallites’ disposal, meaning such a design may have been out of the question. Second, as I believe you would confirm, the Crystal Empire as a vassal nation had always had a strive for creating arguably needlessly magically complex constructs of considerable power, as well as a slightly more arguable interest in sentient constructs in general.”The Princess gulped and rubbed her neck. ‘On the one hoof, it is a shame he is not a historian. On the other, his analytical ability is too great for him not to uncover something he really shouldn’t, for the good of us all. I’m not sure how to feel. Good thing I’m already bewildered...”

“That is, of course, assuming that the theory—” he went on. “—according to which the Crystallites originated as a sentient type of rock that carved itself out to resemble ponykind, is correct. I doubt you would confirm that, yet it is still a viable argument.”

“...I can’t say one way or the other on that matter, sorry. I will not deny it,” Celestia said slowly, picking her words, eyes growing larger by the second. “As for… what I was supposed to confirm… that I do confirm.” Shaking herself up, she returned to a semblance of serenity. ‘This is proving to be quite the nostalgia hour. At least I know for absolute sure now that despite his oddness, Diamond is worth keeping around for as long as possible. This is one sharp mind.’

“Then it is a possibility that Osmosis is a construct of a very particular kind, possibly a meld, of crystal, that was never deployed and had to be evacuated from the Crystal Empire, then being lost up until her recovery and reactivation. Fortunately, you were not a sentient threat drawing energy from the opposites of Love, so you were not destroyed.”

“That is heartening.”

“Correct. As for the draconnequi connection, I have to admit, it is not any more solid than the other theories I’ve presented thus far. The one encounter Equestria has had with a draconnequus resulted in the reign of Discord, with his subsequent petrification. Yet again, it is mostly your accounts, Princess, that formulate the picture,” Diamond Eye spoke, either failing to notice or ignoring the sound of Celestia’s grinding teeth. This topic was pleasant for essentially no one to bring up. “Discord was, by all accounts, a creature of elemental Chaos - a more rudimentary concept than the main magical elements science tends to operate with. Love, from my findings, appears to be on the same level, it is more… ‘primordial’ is the term I currently use.”

“Ah, good. So it would be more of a theoretical similarity, not a direct connection to his species?” Celestia was quick to ask.

“To a point. As I said, she operates almost entirely via the use of a primordial magical power. So did Discord, if the analyses of the enchantment residue on the surviving artifact and the specifics of the events you described are to be believed. It is viable to assume that they both consisted largely of their respective primordial power. That would potentially make her a subset of the draconnequus species.”

The Princess opened her mouth to try to parry, but thought better. ‘He is right. It’s an unpleasant thought, but he is. He could transform more or less anything, including himself. There is nothing to prove that she wasn’t one of his kind before ending up as that cocoon... all those years ago.’

“Osmosis’ abilities are beyond replication by modern magical means, and attempting to recreate some of her more signature spells, such as precise body transmogrification or refined emphatic linking, would require the basic magical elements to be amalgamated beyond any reasonable extent,” the wizard carried on. “To the point where the overwhelming majority of Unicorns would lack the ability to cast such a spell, since only a fitting talent indicator would provide enough strength for the user to handle the complexity.”

“I suppose I have to concede that this is probable. Granted, it isn’t like—” She stopped herself again, this time notably enough that Diamond Eye did as much as raise an eyebrow. The Princess forced her eyes to stop inspecting all the borderline random tools surrounding the discovery-bearing orb and put them back onto the silver stallion. “Go on, Diamond, go on.”

“I will. The final theory has little to it, in any case. It is simply the one I haven’t been able to eliminate. Across the three other probable causes, there is one specific correlation. Osmosis is not something that can be naturally found on Equis, no matter the magical influence on a given species or any of its genera. Of all the entities that we have historically made contact with, the only ones that a connection could feasibly be drawn to are Nightmare Moon, Crystallite experiments, and Discord.” For the first time, he showed her the clipboard he was occasionally looking at while informing her.

Celestia could not exactly figure out what she was supposed to look at, since he turned it back around three seconds later. She assumed that the four outlined boxes strewn among oceans of compact, small-font text were the conclusions he arrived at. ‘At least he is slowly, very slowly, picking up on conversation gestures. I think this was meant to liven our talk up. Seeing how he couldn’t have done it on purpose, not with his type of mind, I guess researching the basic elements of interindividual affairs is making him subconsciously start seeing conversations as more than exchanges of meaning. At least…’

“In case all three have been ruled out, the only other explanation I can currently offer is that she is a being from a different realm. Considering that I stand by my conviction that all parallel realms exist in the same universe in various galaxies, that would make her a space alien. That is all.” He sorted the clipboards back to where he took them and fixed his turtleneck.

Taking a long inhale, followed by an even longer exhale, the Princess paced around the laboratory, effort being put into her head not being low. The conflict within her thoughts was almost palpable, though Diamond Eye provided no comment, waiting in place while she mulled over the multitude of decisions and possibilities now presented to her.

‘I can’t just back off of this,’ Celestia told herself repeatedly. ‘This is hardly going to be buckets of fun. I’m stronger than this, I have to stop pretending none of these things would ever come back to haunt me. It has been long enough. Osma already thinks I’m falling apart. Put yourself together, Celestia. You’re going to go out there and solve this, because now it’s clear no one else can, because no one else is still alive since any of that happened. And you have the keys to a lot of these memories.’

Fortunately, since they were still technically discussing the same subject, there was no reason for her court wizard to speak up and break her reverie. He stood near motionless, awaiting a response. At the point where that fact made her feel as guilty as if he were hurrying her along, Celestia stopped.

“I will follow on your findings, Diamond,” she said. Then, with only a little bit of audible strain, she followed up the more difficult part of her statement: “In fact, I could start right now. Enough time has been freed up in my schedule to hopefully fill this endeavor in. And considering the proximity of where I intend to go, I would invite you to follow, since you are, thus far, the expert on this subject.”

“Specify, Princess?”

“The Gardens, to Discord’s statue.” The mare nodded to herself to fuel up some determination. “There are fairly simple things that can be done to test out at least one of your theories, and we won’t require Osma to be present, either.”

Diamond Eye was static for a few more moments, after which his horn lit up intensely, and a great multitude of things within the lab were closed, opened, activated and deactivated. Several tomes on the bookshelves lining the sides of the building’s interior were also rearranged.

“I am prepared to depart whenever you require,” he told her. ‘I guess his assistant is out of town. Yeah, I should ask him about that, and about the school, when he inevitably starts trying to pitch me Love-based weapons of mass destruction.’

“Very good. We can go now,” she said, nodding to him and heading for the doors. “This particular topic is done with for now.”

“In that case, I would like to discuss the specifics of Love power in relation to its future use,” he responded immediately, stepping quickly in her wake. “Including but not limited to various methods of population control.”

Celestia rolled her eyes, pushing the doors open with a shoulder.

“Before we go into the further implications of Love study… Did you happen to take interest in the design of the object you extracted this energy from?” she said, intentionally ignoring his rather expected ‘practical’ response. “I want an expert’s opinion.”

“Curiously intricate design. Can only assume that the correlation with Love-based entities was an accident, though considering what you said, it may have been the intent. The means it was achieved imply luck, however,” Diamond Eye told her with nary a change in tone or any other indication of displeasure. “Despite the original intention, the current design is a good basis for a repelling formation against creatures of Osmosis’ species. With small changes and a consistent flow of Love power, it can create an effective barrier she would not be able to pass. Useful in case of an attempted coup.”

He recalibrated his monocle before stepping out the doors, the tube now hardly poking out of the gilded eyepiece. Celestia, in the meantime, was glad to be outdoors, her mane sparking in the heavy wind, and a mildly content smile showing up on her lips.

‘Even if this is an unscheduled visit with that… thing, at least Diamond is suggesting something be used defensively. I wish his practical mindset did not boil things down to increasingly ridiculous preventive measures so often. I suppose I must be doing something right if I can still see how that is the wrong way to go about things.’ She took a long, hard look in the direction of Canterlot Gardens. ‘Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be too glad about not being too rational.’

The Princess kicked a hoof on the ground and puffed her nostrils loudly. As Diamond Eye went into more detail on the Sparklegust invention, Celestia held her head high.

‘Or maybe I should do what Osma tells me to do and reconsider wallowing in self-doubt as a hobby.’

Search: Discord

It wasn’t the longest of walks from Diamond Eye’s laboratory, which was within a leisurely stroll from Canterlot Towers, to the hedge mazes, pathways, elegant trees and other greenery of the Canterlot Gardens. The fact they were going to visit Discord’s statue far ahead of schedule, however, made it that much lengthier and tense. Unpleasant thoughts were a consistent part of Princess Celestia’s everyday mindset, and were often swatted away in their hundreds. This one was an exception.

‘A blast from the past, figuratively speaking, isn’t it? I’m not quite sure what has me more disgruntled - the memories that have been dug up today, or the fact I’m so easily affected. Am I not supposed to be the mare to stand bold face to face with crisis?’ the mare berated herself internally, snout scrunching with exasperation. ‘I can’t let this go, either. None of this. For one thing, I’m going through with this research. For another, I’m taking steps to sort myself out before it’s too late. It may not end with Nightmare Moon. And all of today’s unhappy remembrances are, by far, secondary to… her. Time to get a grip.’

“I should note, by the way, that you need not worry about the necessary paperwork regarding the proper archiving and acknowledgement of my findings in the field of primordial Love,” the court wizard’s voice reemerged after a lengthy pause, returning her attention to more immediate matters. “Aster and I have already planned for any unexpected discoveries such as this. You will be notified when we require you to send us a limited use seal of approval for signing purposes.”

“Good to know. Heavens know we don’t need another conundrum like there was with the classification of spell-eater rocks,” she said approvingly, nodding. After a moment of thought, she turned her head to the stallion: “I do feel the need to remind you, though… By and large, this has to stay purely theoretical and classified for at least five decades. I doubt there is any actual danger in releasing the secrets of the… ‘mass affection stimulation device’, but the more mundane applications of Love do bother me to a considerable degree.”

“Naturally, Princess. There exists a near-zero chance that the Classified Research Academic Community will review, sort and evaluate the copious materials I will put forward for consideration, within less than ten years,” Diamond assured her. “Considering there also exists a significant probability that one or more of the Community chairs will pass away within that time frame, twenty years is the most likely estimated wait time. This, obviously, brings up the possibility of my own demise within that time frame, which would require re-filing the entire inquiry under Aster’s name as my official apprentice. In that case fifty years would be the most likely time by which Love-related research will enter closed academic circulation.”

“...well, then. Let us hope that you don’t pass away in that time frame, just in case we need solid designs and a strong theoretical base for highly powerful Love-based magic,” Celestia joked after a good few moments of would-be awkward silence. The qualitative descriptor was something of a redundant thing in most conversations with her court wizard, however. “Because in that case we’ll have to border on the established magical ethics and have to consult you from beyond the grave.”

“Acceptable in cases of crisis,” he replied.

“Yeah… yeah, I know. That’ll be all.”

The Princess puffed loudly out the side of her mouth. Like many things this day, talking about the intense levels of obstructionism within arcane academia couldn’t help but fuel some of her internal doubts. She was at the core of things being this way, of course. All groundbreaking discoveries typically called for delays, which were justified, first and foremost, by the necessity of proper documentation, testing and peer review of Princess-picked members of the scientific community. In reality, the main concern was that someone would accidentally invent something they could not possibly comprehend the true implications of. Securing Equestria’s present well-being, containing particularly questionable findings and protecting the entire planet’s future was a noble goal, all things considered.

‘And yet my little ponies make it extremely hard by constantly making it something useful. It’s much easier to justify putting a forbidden tag on a necromantic treatise. Someone discovering the once-obscure functional specifics of the power of Love? Much more queasy. Love is by no means a bad thing, but the sheer amount of restrictions that would be needed to put on practitioners… We can’t just have Unicorns with fitting cutie marks going around and seducing whoever they want, or making them fall into one another as they see fit. And what would the Unicornian representatives think? And what of the criminal justice system? And, and, and.’

Diamond Eye did not seem to see the discussion as to the virtual irrelevance of his findings until the end of his life as needing any continuation. They walked in silence, bypassing the sprawling view of Canterlot and the nearby hills. The mare cast a long look at the glamorous city, roofs glistening with her sunrays, skybound Pegasi being hastened along by the windy weather. Her eyes shifted from posh manor to posher manor yet, extravagant buildings all, poking out of the richer part of the city. To little surprise, she couldn’t see her other self from that distance, but the lack of magic shows, crowds, flooding, dragons, police squadrons or explosions bolstered her spirit. To her side, the silver Unicorn had clicked a set of darker lenses into the mechanical monocle on his eye, as the descending path toward the Gardens was particularly awash with sunlight.

‘All so complex, Love, above other things. Oh gosh, how on Equis am I going to explain this to Osma? She will never shut up about it. Love is a primordial magical element this, grumpiness is a habit of snooty winghorns that. Good thing I’m not as bad as she says. Or I would be hoping that we’d learn exactly nothing new examining Discord with controlled amounts of Love energy.’

“We have arrived. Please stand still for a few moments so I can check if the harmonizer spell requires maintenance,” Diamond’s voice sounded out, causing her to plant her hooves firmly in the ground. The mare’s body trembled as the path underneath her quaked, for just a couple of seconds. “We may now proceed.”

“That was fast. I see you’ve done some calibrations since our last visit?” the Princess asked, arching her back and fluttering her wings to erase the miniscule cramps that had washed over her body. They were now within the Statue of Discord’s containment area.

“I was only partly responsible. The theoretical base of this optimization work can be attributed to Aster,” he answered, exhibiting significantly less of a disturbance as he entered the invisible bubble that covered this particular part of the Gardens.

“Oh, good. Speaking of optimization. It would be fairly optimal if we actually accomplished something here,” she told him, weaving a different question into their current topic to help his peculiar mind react better. “Are we missing anything, Diamond? I assume you’ve taken a small Love-potent sample.”

“I have.”

Getting to the her ancient, petrified enemy, wasn’t particularly difficult. His outstretched avian hand peeked out from behind towering hedge walls, which formed a perfect circle around him, safe for two gates. The path they were on led directly to one of the gates, an exact, straight line of cobblestone paved up a smooth rise. The stones were a repeating, consistent pattern, each of them one hundred percent identical to the other, all of them replicated magically from an especially even-carved original stone, with not a millimeter or milligram of minute difference from it. Branching of the cobble path were six side roads, each exactly ten meters apart from the other, three on each side. Those roads lead to flower-wrapped gazebos, all entirely identical, made of perfect geometrical shapes, upon which the uniform white flowers nested in ideal heart shapes. Trees and bushes that lined the grassy spaces between those roads were planted in the same pattern, over and over again, and their foliage was trimmed to be the same oblong shape for the trees, while the bushes were turned into squares. The wind was barely a breeze, flowing continuously, never ending - there were no clouds in the sky, which was the absolute, pinpoint, perfect sky blue. Shadows cast by the objects within this part of the garden each fell so that there was virtually no overlap. Despite it being around four in the evening, the sun stood in the sky as if it was exactly twelve o’clock in the afternoon by the planet’s natural time.

‘I have to give myself credit. This was a vanity project, once. But now, there’s definitely some usefulness to this,’ Celestia thought to herself, pacing up the road leading to Discord’s perfectly circular hedge ring. ‘This is beyond uncanny, even for me - and this was all my idea. Tourists that enter this place rarely make it to Discord. Most of them are here to have fun, not be unnerved by what I assume is the closest we will ever get to perfect order.’

Diamond Eye was a fortunate companion to have while heading into the depths of the garden, since unlike anyone who had ever been there, he seemed to be rather content with the abnormal state of things. If anything, it could be noticed that the Unicorn was ever so slightly more liberal with his words and gestures. He appeared to have a much easier time conversing within this place, in general. In good part, this place’s specific atmosphere could be attributed to his efforts - while Celestia had gone through a number of court wizards since the day she decided Discord’s statue needed a new home, he was the one that was by far the most enthusiastic about taking her idea to the most exact, literal level possible. No better prison for a creature of elemental Chaos than the most perfect, harmonious place one could possibly conceive at the current acceptable level of magical advancement. Many details no one would ever notice without looking for them were his ideas: the identical shapes of all the leaves, one specific shape for each type of plant; the specially bred symmetrical grass whose perfectly grass green blades were spaced at the most harmonious angles possible, even if stepped on; the magically cloned interiors of each gazebo, and more.

There was only one thing that Celestia wished to change that he ultimately refused her on. She wanted to place windows into the circle that surrounded his statue. He deemed them a structural weakness and simply cut down their height for a similar result. And then, for good measure, a complicated illusion spell was permanently cast at an area around the statue’s head, channeled from a spell-eating rock securely locked away in Diamond’s laboratory. Anyone in that area would see nothing but a pattern of hearts, suns and moons beyond the magical bubble this part of the Gardens was located in. Very fortunate, considering some research had shown that his vision wasn’t limited to his eyes, even in statue form.

He could see everything, of course. The Princess, her Court Wizard and their apprentice were, at any given point in time, the only ponies to be aware of the fact that Discord was still very much conscious and awake within his statue. He saw, heard, and, with sufficient force applied, felt everything. Telepathy, judging by some of her past Court Wizards’ findings, he had no access to. This was enough, however.

‘Enough to make this your personal hell, you reprehensible abomination,’ Celestia almost said out loud, a heavy frown forming on her face. A loud sigh escaped her throat. ‘This used to feel juicier... Now I’m just hoping you can’t read my mind. No point sweating it, then. I’ve things to do and decisions to make.’

They entered through the gate silently, the metal having been forged and enchanted to be almost completely silent. They entered from the back, facing his dragon-like tail. The petrified draconnequus was now open for them to see - him, and the contents of his permanent residence. It was strewn all over with perfectly grey, droll looking things, dozens upon dozens of them, placed in perfect formations, symmetrically, filling as much of his field of view as possible.

“How are you doing there?” she called him out with some drips of venom seeping through her words. “What’s new? Hm. Here I thought you were going to do some refurbishing any day soon.”

That was not all there was to his immediate vicinity, of course. While the greater part of the reason for the enchanted garden’s existence was to enact fitting retribution on the malevolent entity, plunging it into what must have been the most miserable environment he could ever have imagined, there was also a security function to all of this. The freakishly tall mismatched creature may have been a statue, but there was never any certainty with the likes of Discord, and Celestia had always known that he was still there, somewhere. And of course, he was, beaten, bound and scarred, but by no means gone. The Elements of Harmony, however, weren’t child’s play - he possessed virtually no control of the laughably negligible amounts of Chaos magic still at his disposal. It was about two hundred years that he was more or less unattended for, and in that period of time, his power grew very unsubstantially. Shortly thereafter, some proper containment measures were enacted. A century or so later, Celestia’s grand design for his torture was implemented.

That hampered the growth of his control even further, albeit it did eventually become slightly more noticeable than it once was. It was, at the absolute best, a passive, persistent aura of Chaos and improbability. Patches of grass swayed pitifully side to side, wobbling with effort. Some of the artfully boring ornaments would rarely try their hardest to move the tiniest portion of an inch, and ninety nine times out of a hundred they would instantly retreat. On particularly special occasions, the sad makings of a distantly pink vaporous cloud, no bigger than a miser’s muffin, would pop into existence and weep out a half-formed tear of remotely sugary liquid. Who knew, perhaps, had his acclimatization to his new state of affairs been allowed to go further, he would even try to communicate.

In any case, Discord was having quite the unenviable existence for the couple hundred years.

‘Maybe after we settle today’s business, I’ll get to find out what the feeling permeating this place really is. This popping, tense sensation in the back of my head. Considering the lengths I’ve gone to to make this an eternity of unbearable torment for him it’s probably his boiling, vicious hatred,’ she mulled the thought that entered her mind every time she had to visit. Today being different, and her having more duties than just being around in case performing extensive physical maintenance on the garden of perfect order resulted in any sort of accident, this thought was not so moot anymore. That made the rest of it slightly more relevant as well: ‘Or, of course, it could be my possibly misguided conscience, recognizing what he’s going through. Heh, I remember the tantrum I threw when I started calling it “him” four hundred years ago… The habit stuck, though.’

“Yes, that’s very interesting, Discord. Anyway, I have things to do. Diamond, would you please?” she said out loud, considering that the stallion would likely have simply stood in place for minutes on end had he not been given a prompt.

In less than a second, a sealed beaker was floating in front of her, a single pink pellet of semi-liquid arcane energy secured within. A small portion of the magic contained in the orb she brought him, it seemed - processed to have a physical form that allowed for easy transportation. At least, that was what could be assumed. Carrying around literal pieces of primordial magical energies wasn’t something that happened particularly often, and last time that was needed, the methods of delivery were a bit different. Celestia tilted her head, taking the beaker into her own magical aura. The subtle slot at the base of the statue, used for the centennially rare occasions that magical artifacts were put to use on Discord, took a lot more effort, since she used her mouth to uncover it, for safety’s sake.

‘I can’t help but feel like I’m not appreciating the gravity of the situation. I mean, I am, but this feels awfully mundane. Even testing this out isn’t particularly mundane, however,’ she mulled while lowering the beaker into the disproportionally wide, deep cavity. ‘Let alone the other possibilities this discovery is offering us, provided Diamond is at least mostly right - which I’m sure he is.’

“There we go. Now, I have good news, Discord. We have brought a little bit of uncertainty into your life just now!” she declared with partly fake bile welling in her words. “I have absolutely no idea if this is going to hurt you or not. And, who knows, if this goes well enough, I may never get to ask!”

With that, she fired off a concentrated beam at the opened slot, which went aglow, preventing any residual arcane energy from reaching the actual statue. It was quite the light show, thick color-shifting spiralling waves coursing intensely around an intensely bright white beam. By the look of it, it could easily have been mistaken for a high power disintegration charge or something of the sort - rather fitting, considering the occasion, and one of the few things to really suit the importance of what was happening. In reality, however, while it was technically an offensive spell, it was a heavily modified version, which reduced it to what was essentially a poking stick for very specific arcane qualities of two or more objects located close enough to each other. Underwhelming considering the appearance, but Diamond Eye, who retrofitted the spell’s previous version, did make a point that not modifying the original spell’s visual compartment considerably aided the ease of use and channeling time.

‘And it does. It just looks a bit ridiculous. I can’t help but imagine I’m blasting this damn thing to pieces. Following which, I can’t help but also imagine him breaking out of his newly destroyed statue and wrecking havoc. At times, I wonder why I even think… This is taking some time.’

The scientist himself was observing fleeting arcane readings coming in and out of existence in front of him, occasionally brushing against parts of his eyepiece to zoom in and out. Specks and sparks moved at dashing speeds in front of him, and even that was only with the aid of magic complex enough to perfectly justify his presence. While the Princess would have been capable of pulling it off and even understanding what any of it meant, it would have put quite a hamper on her mental capabilities for the rest of the day.

“Any time now?!” she muttered under her breath, having broken a few sweats channeling the prodding spell for several minutes straight.

“All done,” Diamond responded about ten seconds later. Celestia instantly snuffed the overblown magic spell out and began to pant lightly, brushing a forehoof against her face. The beaker was back in a pocket of the Court Wizard’s coat before she could take it into her own telekinetic grip. “Primary analysis results available.”

“Good job,” the alicorn said raspily, flexing her wings and cracking her neck. She squinted, looking for any breaches in the perfect symmetry and order that surrounded them, but owing to her accuracy, there was not a leaf out of place. “So, then. First of all, how is Discord doing? Simply being curious.”

“Hmmm.” Diamond gathered his thoughts for a short while, coming out with a response considerably fast for his standards. “Slightly more uncomfortable than the norm.”

“That would be Discord’s norm, I imagine?” The Princess didn’t sound particularly invested, partly because she was stretching her legs and giving her warmed-up horn a soothing rub. ‘To be fair, last time I cast the original spell, I was panting for an hour. And when I used the actual offensive spell at its base… Nevermind that.’

“Correct. To refresh your memory, the draconnequus discomfort norm based on aural readings is—”

“Overwhelming discomfort, medium level physical suffering, strong psychological misery. I know.” Celestia’s eyelid twitched. “Slightly worse than that, then?”

“Essentially.”

“Ah, so it goes,” Celestia replied, shrugging her shoulders. She suppressed the desire to at least shake her head at herself, both for doubting her dedication to disregarding Discord’s despair and for doubling down on said dedication. “Now, onto our main objective… Actually, to preface: considering the track record of this idiot in intellectual pursuits, I doubt he would be able to make heads or tails of the information you will present, so go on right here and right now. What have you learned?”

“A number of things. Rather curious. Several thoughts I’ve had as to the nature of Discord have been proven to be the case. That does, however, mean that he cannot be of the same origin as Osmosis. There exist fundamental differences between these two entitiess’ mode of operation. They share some key features, but their deeper nature is at odds with one another.”

‘Oh thank goodness. I still can have Osma hug me to sleep. Were she of the same family as him, I don’t think I could have. And now - onto more productive conclusions…’ She straightened herself out, spreading her wings and taking on a particularly serene facial expression. It tended to help her think, and Diamond Eye hardly minded - his gaze was fixed at the statue. “I’m relieved to hear that. Go on.” she said.

“First of all, it seems that the shapeshifting abilities these creatures possess are vastly different. Both have capabilities - or, rather, had, in the case of Discord - for corporeal alteration, but while Osmosis’ has been proven to be an infinitely long process of various changes responding to a wide variety of external and internal influences, Discord’s body shaping has nothing to do with her abilities. Judging by some of the reactions he has had to the concentrated charge of Love, his essence reacts very poorly to the concept of permanence, even if that permanence is related to the process of change.”

“He can’t take how organic Osma’s shapeshifting is? Not random enough for him?” Celestia asked, involuntarily giving the statue a look herself. Her lips curled downward and she turned away with a dismissive huff. “It makes sense. He’d usually… do something, and then keep that something around for a time until he was bored of it. For the time being he would typically stick to some sort of, ahm… ‘theme’. If my memory serves me right, that is.”

“An apt interpretation. There is more, however. While both of them are indeed creatures of primordial magical elements, they do not share much functional similarity. The reaction he had to this foreign element being introduced into his system was quite contrary to that of Osmosis during the last tissue examination. It is quite telling, considering they can both be broadly classified as Elementals.” He cleared his throat and pulled up the turtleneck, after which he stepped toward the crevice with the Love beaker. After a moment of hesitation, Celestia raised a halting hoof, to which he immediately retracted his steps. “The reaction their base elements have to other energies is very telling. You likely recall that when exposed to other magical elements, Osmosis’ samples, which we now know consist of Love, would take those energies in and multiply both their own arcane charge and that of the other sample. The reaction of Chaos to an influx of Love was to attempt either converting its charge to its own or destroy it, but due to Discord’s weakness, the receptive Chaos charges were unsuccessful.”

“I… seeeeee,” Celestia drew out slowly, rubbing her chin and raising her eyes to the sky. “Anything more?..”

“These are the basic conclusions I have drawn. Osmosis has no relation to Discord aside from more than likely being an Elemental entity, thus strengthening the remaining theories as to her genesis. I intend to compile a more thorough report with secondary findings by next week.”

The Princess sighed deeply and ran a forehoof against her ethereal mane. Her wings fidgeted at her sides, her hooves stepped in place involuntarily. She caught herself biting her lip, primarily because Diamond Eye turned his head to her. A light chill passed through the mare as the monocled eye gazed at her, as if exposing the heavy thoughts within - of which there were some.

‘It’s now or never. Or, rather, “later”, which by my standards could easily be “never”. When has my gut led me wrong?’ she told herself, lowering her eyes and taking in a deep breath. ‘Good heavens, how I wish that my gut would actually lead me somewhere in situations like these anymore. Though perhaps it’s best to wish that situations like these don’t happen. Then again - it’s been a very, very long time…’

“Princess Celestia?” the scientist called out for her, calm as per usual, albeit still rather troubling in that he was rarely one to break tense pauses such as this one. “Problem?”

“Perhaps not. I have a clarification to make, and some additional business to attend to regarding this… creature,” the alicorn uttered, growing more determined by the end, clearing her throat again for additional clarity.

“By all means.”

“You said that when Discord’s Chaos magic, which you say he consists of, went in to intercept and convert the Love charge, it wasn’t successful. Could you tell me how exactly it failed?”

Diamond Eye blinked slowly. His silence went on for slightly longer than it was typical of him. The fact they were in a spot where he tended to have a lot less issue reorganizing his thoughts made that even more noticeable. Although, the fact this wasn’t the usual couple moments it took her Court Wizard to rearrange his train of thought to a new topic was further compounded when the Unicorn’s facial expression changed from the usual distant, calm mask he bore. He turned his head slightly, almost squinting into the white mare’s eyes with his good eye. His mouth was slightly opened, as if he were about to speak up, which he didn’t. Instead his lips curled subtly down, and his unflappable, piercing gaze broke off the Princess.

“Diamond… Is there something wrong? Should we leave here? I don’t really think there is much he can do with this information, in his current state...” she asked him serenely, trying to sound as soothing as she could.

“There is approximately a seventy three percent chance of a concentrated mega-magnified volley of Love-based crystal-infused bombard removing Discord from all currently registered layers of existence,” the silver stallion said abruptly, a hint of a rather different tone in his voice. “For reference, that is one of the weapons projects I suggested thirty six minutes ago after we left the laboratory. The percentage I have provided applies to Discord in a weakened state, decreasing toward a projected sixty two percent chance at his approximated full strength.”

Celestia froze, her eyes having widened. This has only very rarely happened before, Diamond making jumps like these. Her initial thought was that something went wrong with their experiment and he was being affected by Discord. Why would he answer her with this? That thought didn’t hold much water, though.

‘It’s clear as day I want Discord gone, with no chance of him doing what he did. Which effectively means killing him.’

What happened was simply the result of him being in a mentally comfortable environment, having good deduction skills when he allowed them to work, and her motives being transparent to someone with a practical mindset.

“So… you think destroying him for good is the way to go about this?” she asked.

“The remaining twenty seven percent calculated for Discord in a weakened state account for four scenarios. Most likely is the twelve percent chance of Discord not being fully destroyed, with the surviving Chaos energy retaining the capability to infect, consume and possess matter and arcanery as it recuperates,” the scientist spoke up, and levitated a notebook from his front pocket, taking relevant figures down as he spoke. “There also exists an eight percent chance that disintegrating a Chaos elemental with the concentrated power of another primordial element will produce resonant waves bearing enough power to create an apocalyptic event. Assuming that the entity in question is not processed with specific magical and chemical agents, there will additionally be a two percent chance of the blast failing to have any effect whatsoever.”

‘This complicates things…’

“Lastly, there is a one percent chance that if Discord has enough integrity to withstand the bulk of the raw destructive effect, Love’s inherent qualities will take over his essence instead of destroying it.” Diamond Eye stared at her throughout, making a short pause after providing the numerical lowdown. He brushed a hoof against one of his sideburns. “As for the changes in these percentiles that occur with the growth of Discord’s projected strength, failure to fully destroy and triggering of an apocalyptic event stay the same, probability of lack of effect goes down to the low decimals, with conversion to a more Love-based entity rising respectively.”

‘And this… changes things. This definitely changes things.’

“Right… I assume that the method of destruction you’ve suggested is the most reliable you can currently suggest?” Celestia asked for another clarification, shaking her head.

“Correct. It is unlikely that a method more likely to deliver a Love-based solution to the issue of Discord’s existence can be developed in the next one hundred and twenty one to three hundred and seventy five years, which is the current prognosis for an escape attempt being undertaken with the irreversible flow of Chaos energy reawakening within his being.”

“How long do you think it would take to create such a… bombard?” The Princess raised a forehoof, moreso looking as if she was swatting unpleasant thoughts away than exhibiting actual interest. That was primarily because she was doing just that. ‘I may as well be spoon-feeding Discord the Chaos he needs, acting like this. None of this is helping. I thought I’d made my choice putting the beaker in there. Why did Diamond have to bring up destroying him? Why did he have to figure it out? It was up to me to say that. And then be done with it, and let whatever happens, happen.’

“No solid numbers I can provide right now. I would assume somewhere in the range of a century if work was to begin next week. Various possible events, including my inevitable death, will likely impact the process.” The scientist seemed less than perturbed talking about the topic, somewhat unlike Celestia. While there was ever so subtly more character and life to his normally droll and straightforward deep voice, bringing this up was just as much of a mundanity for him in here as it was outside the garden of artificial harmony.

‘And him having to remind me that I will inevitably lose the one Unicorn loyal, practical and scrupulous enough to be trusted with science at this level… that does not help either.’

“I see. You… did not answer my question, though, Diamond. Do you think destroying Discord is a good idea?” She spoke with some enforced firmness, raising her eyes to return the stallion’s persistent gaze. “Is that the practical, reasonable, objective thing to do?”

This time it was Diamond Eye’s turn to look more disarmed than usual. He scowled, looking down. A small, yet audible puff of air exited through his nostrils. One of his ears flicked momentarily. He turned his head back to look at the statue, made a few steps toward it, then turned around, and looked through the bars of the gate they entered through. Growing more irritated in his expression, he then stepped at a somewhat accelerated pace to the front of the statue, putting his forehooves at the base and taking a long look at the thing they were discussing, in all its awkward, mismatched glory.

Considering that such an amount of seemingly excessive movement and emotion was quite unusual and likely meant some intense thinking going on in his head, Celestia did not intervene, instead walking to the front herself, careful not to nudge any of the mocking trinkets strewn about.

‘I don’t think I can look at his maw for as long as he can,’ she pointed out to herself after five seconds of inspecting the stretched out half-equine half-dragon goat-bearded snout. So for the next couple of minutes of silence, she stared through the bars of the gate herself, viewing what little of the Canterlot skyline was there to see.

“The destruction of Discord is objectively an impractical avenue of action,” the stallion spoke up at last. “The risk of infecting Equis with Chaos or outright destroying it is unacceptably high. However.” He was silent again for nearly half a minute. “Discord’s return is inevitable. There is no way to cut off the growth of his power any further than it already has been. For when he regains freedom, I have no superior course of action in mind.”

“Oh.” Celestia couldn’t resist showing her surprise. “Uh… huh.”

‘So… my dedicated ruthlessly practical pony who consistently tries to pitch me weapons of mass destruction, mind control devices, spying spells, arcane poisons and the like - and the only reason I still listen to him is because he is all those things - doesn’t actually think killing Discord is a good idea.’ She blinked slowly. ‘What a world. Had he not seen through my base desires and decided to skip ahead, I would have been the one to say he needed to be destroyed. And he would have agreed, because while there’s a one-in-five chance that we create even more problems, he hasn’t figured out… this stupid idea I’m beating myself over for even getting in the first place. That is, when I’m not brooding over how I haven’t found a way to make it work yet. Only now, I think I have the solution. For the Discord problem, not for my mental disturbances. Goodness gracious, Osma might have a point when she says I have problems...’

“Do you have something in mind?” Diamond asked her, yet again taking initiative.

“In fact… I do.” The Princess took a breath and finally let it out: “I believe that with your findings regarding Love, and especially its effect on Chaos, Discord can be…” She bit her lip and huffed loudly, but finished it nonetheless. “...reformed.”

“...define ‘reformed’, Princess.” Now that there was at least some degree of discernible emotion present in the scientist’s expression, the fact it turned completely static was noticeable. It was clear that gears were turning in his head, and it didn’t appear to be a smooth process.

“It’s a liberal use of the term, I have to admit,” she said, raising a hoof in admittance. “What I really mean is more along the lines of, uhm…” The mare bit on her lip, searching for a more straightforward term that her Court Wizard would be on board with.

“Brainwashing, colloquially speaking?” he suggested.

She all but opened her mouth to protest, but swiftly closed it after having thought of it objectively. Her snout scrunched up. She sighed.

“This is a… harder question to answer than it might seem. I’m not entirely sure. What I intend to do is introduce scheduled doses of distilled Love into Discord’s monthly containment checkups. The reaction he has shown to it is... promising.” Celestia gave the statue a brief glare. “I have a distinct feeling that adding more and more of non-Chaos elements into him would have a beneficial effect, generally speaking.” The alicorn turned her head to Diamond Eye. “The tiny dose he’s been subjected to right now has remained, correct? It’s still within him?”

“It is, as an intruding foreign object. Plainly speaking, it is a sickness to his arcane body. Right now he is too weak to attempt to purge a fraction this small,” he answered, still looking somewhat surprised, thoughtful and relatively unconvinced. “Higher dosages could result in an emergency immune response that would undo any… progress you would be trying to achieve.”

“I understand that. I assume that with the proper calculations, particularly catastrophic events can be avoided. That should not be a massive issue,” she assured him. “What I really would like to know is… when you described the reaction he had to Love, I believe you said it bolsters both itself and the original element. Does that mean that it could potentially be less of a ‘foreign object’, and more of an… organic part of him as a magical entity?”

“...” Diamond Eye was silent for some time, his good eye having gone slightly wider than usual. He rubbed his goatee. “I had not considered that. From what I had learned, this is not unlikely. I think I understand what you mean, Princess.”

“I’m confident that you do,” Celestia replied with a calm smile, straightening out her neck after having realized she was rather ungracefully, tensely bent down for some time now. “So, as you can see now, it’s not quite brainwashing.”

“That wholly depends on what specifically Discord is as a Chaos Elemental. I would require several weeks of study to arrive at a more accurate conclusion.”

“Well… for what it’s worth, I can offer you a couple more relevant observations of my own. From back in the day. Some… things about Discord that make me think doing this is justified,” the mare replied with what was arguably a heavier voice than required. ‘It isn’t like Diamond would find this too unethical. His only concern about killing that clown for good was the risk of apocalypse, which I do have to agree with anyway.’

“By all means. I’m open to additional information.”

The Princess closed her eyes tight, rubbing both with a hoof, one after another. Her wings shifted in place, and her ears declined at a slight angle. She opened her eyes, looking at the Unicorn in front of her, finding some degree of relief in the amusing fact he looked almost excited to hear her out. Quite the rare sight, and presumably a good one, even considering the highly questionable topic.

At long last, she opened up about something she never even talked to Osma about. Primarily because there was never a reason, but still.

“You see, when you describe Discord as a Chaos Elemental, you’re exactly correct. All he ever did was Chaos, through and through. As we both know, history tends to change ever so slightly as years go by.” She cringed at the understatement, but went on nonetheless. “As it stands right now, most ponies hardly believe he ever existed, and as for the… fairytales, which is essentially what records of his rule are by this point, he is depicted as, well…” Celestia searched for the right words, eventually arriving at an eyeroll and a shrug. “...an archetypical villain, more or less. Someone me and my sister heroically defeated with the power of the Elements of Harmony.

“You obviously know that his modern interpretations are hardly in character with what someone with his sort of power would indulge in. It goes deeper, however. What we are doing right now, the sheer fact we’re standing here, how you can examine what little of his internal magical activity can be tracked, all of that is owed to the overwhelmingly powerful - the strongest in all of history, in fact - storm of Harmony myself and Luna unleashed upon him. Back then, he was even more Chaos than he is now. And right now he is still very much Chaos incarnate.

“It’s a bit hard to explain… and it’s also a bit hard to think about, I admit. But, let me put it this way - Discord, back when he ruled over us, was… random. Things did not make sense. They simply did not. He was not a villain, per se. I honestly don’t believe that he even had a personality to speak of. The shape he is in right now was the only consistent thing about him, and even that, I assume, was something that went through many iterations before he was born - I hardly know how he came to be. But Discord… he was anything and everything at once. Believe it or not, but there were days when he would act like the most benevolent being you could imagine. There were days when he’d recreate the old Equestria. There were days when up was right and left was noodle rain with a chance of potatoes. There were… many sorts of days.

“What I think is the most applicable way to describe him is that… he was a force of nature, nothing more - he just happened to have a body and a voice. There was no rhyme or reason. In fact, in purely objective terms, had he stayed in power, Equestria would have technically been ‘safe’ forever. Chaos cannot exist without a counteracting force of some kind, it is, at its core, a reactive element. There would have been nothing for Discord if there were to be no one to force Chaos upon. When he would come close to all but plunging us into oblivion, his behavior was outright self-destructive - he would not simply act nice, he would all but force the small number of ponies capable of maintaining resistance to gain ground. In fact… I don’t think a single, solitary individual died during his reign. However good that was.

“Eventually, he set up his own defeat. He never recognized what the Elements were. He was Chaos incarnate - I don’t think he was really capable of comprehending them. Despite the fact he was aware they existed, he seemed to always erase them from memory. During a particularly… stable period, he was finally taken out and turned into what you see before you. Now, you may be thinking that considering what I just told you, anything but destruction or indefinite containment for a creature like this is utter madness. There is one thing, however, one thing that indicates there can be progress yet.”

“Discord’s being has already been fundamentally altered once,” Diamond Eye spoke up before she could continue. The Unicorn nodded to himself and blinked in understanding. “The magical emissions representing his ‘personality’ have been consistent for as long as I have been examining him. Presumably, this has been the case since he was subjected to the Harmony blast. While pure Chaos, the Discord that we are discussing right now is an actual individual.”

Princess Celestia put a hoof on the scientist’s shoulder and nodded. A breath of relief left her lungs. ‘I feel so much better now. This is such a relief… I just needed to talk. And we haven’t even agreed if what I want to do is a good idea. I am starting to feel that Osma will have to try to ruin today for me.’

“You are very much correct. After being turned into a statue, Discord is now… something, someone that can be worked with. He was solidified, I suppose you could say - with the personality he’d taken on in his last encounter. I think it was to mock us, he thought nothing would happen when we unleashed the Elements. Not the most pleasant of states to be solidified into. So now he may not be a pony, but he is…” She stopped, realizing she didn’t have a good description. “Let’s just say there is a reason that in my notes from the early centuries, he is referred to as ‘it’, yet right now we talk about him as a ‘he’.”

“I understand,” Diamond Eye replied with a now evident, if still distant, tone of involved excitement. He shifted his eyes to the statue now and again, slowly nodding to himself. In all fairness, combining this description of Discord with the haphazard mishmash of animal parts that stood there in stone was quite the task. “For lack of capable Element bearers with which to stabilize and petrify him, you wish to use Love as a substitute form of further melding Discord into a creature that will peacefully coexist with life on Equis.”

“Exactly! Osma can serve as our donor, and bit by bit, he’ll be filled with enough Love to balance out the Chaos, and from then on, well…” Celestia rubbed her temple. “We’ll be using very small doses, naturally. I don’t want the security to be lowered. Besides, my assumption is that he will be more accepting of this foreign magic when he’s in a perpetual state of turmoil. Slowly but surely, if initial procedures beyond this one prove successful, and adding some optimization, I bet he would be significantly more civil by when it’s time for him to leave the statue in about two hundred years.”

“A pleasant course of events,” he answered slowly, with a nod. “If it does take place.”

“And now, of course, you’re free to tell me where I’m wrong, Diamond,” Celestia said immediately, shaking her head. “Since that is why we’re discussing this in the first place. I’m not one hundred percent sure about this.” She sighed. ‘I mean, I do feel like I am. This is definitely an unpleasant conversational obligation. Such euphoria is dangerous, though. I shouldn’t get so carried away, no, no. Control. Things aren’t required to go the way I want them to, even if it’s all going so well.’

“I have multiple concerns about this,” he said, pulling up his turtleneck and starting to slowly pace around. Clearly what was going on was mentally stimulating. “Even if what you say is promising, Princess, it’s a high risk giving this entity even more power than it already has. The personality he currently possesses is very likely less than cooperative, especially after having been in a state of perpetual despair for hundreds of years. It’s possible that after accumulating enough Love he will find the Chaos part of his being capable of breaking out of containment. With the nature of Chaos, it’s not unlikely that such an event won’t be foreseeable despite any precautions.”

“He will never stay contained forever, though. The flow of Chaos into his being cannot be halted. The longer he stays this way, the worse it’ll probably be once he does break out - which is inevitable.”

“Correct. The effect of Love can also alter his personality to a sizeable degree. I will also make sure to monitor the projected time until escape attempt, of course. Another concern is…” He cut himself off mid-sentence, furrowed his brows, and then continued nonetheless. “I don’t mean to imply anything regarding your sensibilities, but in case an acceptable degree of ‘reform’ is achieved and he is released, there is no solid proof that he will stay an ally for long, or that it is not some form of deception on his part. The nature of Chaos does mean that none of our scientific findings in its field can be entirely final. What you said only compounds this fact.”

Celestia hung her head.

“Well, you see, Diamond… that’s just how it is,” she said plainly. “Sometimes you just can’t be sure. Especially in this case. I have thought of this myself. Personally, I find the risk to be worth taking. I’ll look into precautions just as well.”

“The only proper precaution that comes to my mind is the use of Elements of Harmony, Princess,” Diamond responded. “Suitable Bearers for which…”

“...I am looking for a Bearer right now, Diamond. My apprentice won’t simply be a study partner. This is their main goal, to wield the Elements,” Celestia retorted resolutely. “In fact, the strengthening of Discord and his subsequently sped up escape only play into this fact. Unless we dramatically overstep the dosage, his return should be well past the point I have found a suitable Bearer. By then they would have learned the finer aspects of Harmony, and Discord could easily be kept on a leash.”

“In this case, I suppose I can only support your decision to start searching for this Bearer so early. I do hope Osmosis succeeds at her task, then.” The scientist nodded to himself. “The only objective flaw that remains is the possibility that Discord will somehow find a way to break out prematurely. There would be a lot of research necessary to try to find a way to see through possible methods of obfuscation.”

“I’ll help in whichever way I can, if this is really it and you see no other problems.”

“Nothing substantial,” he replied, blinking and stopping for a moment. “Certain ethical aspects.”

“Well… yes. It is, essentially, brainwashing. But it seems like a necessary evil to me. Discord as he is right now would be vile to begin with - not to mention the fact he is highly unlikely to be cooperative after suffering in this garden for centuries. Altering his very essence and making him a being of dual elements is not exactly the cleanlest thing to do,” Celestia conceded. “But it’s either that or death for him. He’s lucky to keep the very essence of his existence, if this works.”

“Besides that, his return at any acceptable degree of reform would serve as a good boost of morale for the nation. They wouldn’t know the finer details of how it was achieved,” Diamond added. The Princess shrugged at having found no counter-argument to the display of cold calculation. “And in any case, with the data you’d offered me today, I find it safe to say that it’s hardly an abhorrent act at all.”

“You do? Well, I’m glad you think so,” Celestia said with a smile, ears perking up in a bit of surprise.

“This is not the first time his very nature was permanently altered. Now we are simply taking steps to refine it further so as to fit our needs,” the stallion elaborated. “Which I can only support.”

“...right, I see.” Celestia swallowed an unpleasant lump in her throat after Diamond put the situation in perspective. “So, as I was saying, anything that I can do to help refine the process we’ll be moving forward with, I am ready to offer.”

The Court Wizard hummed in approval and brought out several notebooks from his coat, taking down multiple lines of notes in each. With a sizeable burden having been loosed from her shoulders, Celestia turned around to leave Discord’s containment zone. Despite the lack of finality and the many questions still looming about this entire arrangement, as well as the fact that the specific purpose she had for this visit was not fulfilled, the alicorn was hardly as tense while she stepped out.

‘There we go. I’ve been mulling this idea for years. And now, thanks to Diamond, I’m actually going forward with it. Reforming Discord… in a very literal sense, but still. Mutating would be the less pleasant and more correct word for it, I suppose. At least Diamond is considerate enough to use my terminology,’ she thought to herself, smiling faintly. Her smile deflated when she was halfway through the gate. ‘Oh, right. I may be supposed to thank him for this. Not that he would feel left out, but… Socializing, Celestia. It can’t always be Osma dealing with your little ponies. Keep acting like this and she’ll all but take over.’

“One last thing… I should thank you, Diamond Eye. I knew I’d made the right choice when I picked you after my previous Court Wizard had his accident,” she called out to him. “Even if many ponies thought your mental and physical health were cause for concern. I know I have told you this before, but your work is greatly appreciated. I need someone like you in times like these.”

Even despite the acceleration of his mental faculties within this area, the Unicorn was taken by surprise. He stood still for some time, his notebooks floating in the air. He wasn’t completely frozen, like he would be elsewhere, in his lab or, worse yet, in places he was even less accustomed to. The stallion appeared to be processing a complex emotion, Celestia could tell that much.

“You overestimate my contributions, Princess. I am only a Unicorn with abilities for practical and theoretical sciences. You likely remember what I told you about the Court Wizard institution as a whole,” he replied after a sizeable period of deliberation. “It is ineffective. There are simultaneously too many tasks associated with it that can be more efficiently divided between existing Royal Scientific Communities, primarily the filing, quality control, sorting and archiving of new and existing works, and too few pursuits of vital importance to dedicate a single wizard and their apprentice’s career to.” He sighed slowly and shook his head, closing his eyes. His snout was ever so slightly scrunched. “I am simply the right Unicorn in the right place at the right time. An exception from the rule. Had the circumstances of my employment different, my problems would have made me an utter failure. A failure too costly for one stallion and his apprentice to cause.”

‘Oh, no… No, no. Not now. Do I need this now? I don’t need this now…’

“In conclusion, I feel this happens to be an opportune time to mention that it is my sincere suggestion that you make me the last Court Wizard you ever employ. I will draft up transition plans in case you agree,” he continued. “Chances are high that in finding the Bearer, you will acquire a protege of your very own. Harmony requires more than simple, basic contact between student and teacher. I find it likely that you having a younger protege of your own will become a consistent feature of Equestrian royalty. Since they will need to possess immense magical talent, they will be able to take care of the more vital parts of my job. All the others are not worth the influence I alone currently possess.”

‘Not a good time, Diamond. Not a good time. Not a good time to do this to my mood, and not a good time to have a point I don’t have much to refute with. I can’t just hide behind grumbling old-fashioned Canterlot power players again, not with him…’ Celestia’s ears drooped, her head nearly touched the ground. She closed her eyes and exhaled. “What about Aster, Diamond? Are you going to deprive him of the position he’d been working toward for years?” The mare dragged a forehoof down the length of her snout. ‘Great. Not only is this the only thing I have to retort with, but I also made it sound like Aster is planning to kill him. Good thing he probably doesn’t mind.’

Diamond Eye stopped, closing his eyes hard. Even the mechanical tube on his left eye temporarily covered up the outward lens. His own posture drooped. The artificial breeze blew gently on the two most stoic and serene ponies in all of Equestria, right next to the mismatched abomination from ages past stretching its arm goofily up into the sky. ‘All this is so miserable that we’re probably giving that bastard more power. And I’m going to have to learn to not call him a bastard, too…’

“...maybe Aster can be the last,” Diamond finally spoke up, and a subtle to the point of seeming an optical illusion smile appeared on his face. “I can’t let him stay a school principal forever. He has more in him than proof-reading my texts and running Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns.”

Princess Celestia chuckled briefly and quietly. ‘This is sweeter than it could have been. I should be glad for this much… in fact, I am.’

“Who knows, Diamond. Maybe you and Aster will iron this out with my protege once Osma knows where to look for them,” she said, straightening herself out again. “Maybe, if something goes really wrong with the reform of Discord, we’ll blast him back to stone together again. And at that rate, he may just end up agreeable. So much Love and Harmony blasted into his body, it might just work out.”

“That is a joke,” Diamond Eye said, seeming to state more so than ask.

“As I said - who knows?” Celestia shrugged and beckoned for him to follow her outside. “We should be going. This talk has been excessively weird and we could be fueling Discord up right now. That is almost not a joke. How long did you say we had until he had enough in him to try it again?”

“One hundred and twenty one years to three hundred and seventy five. That number is very likely to go down, hopefully at a controlled rate. The possibility of a Chaos growth spurt caused by Love’s amplifying ability also exists,” he reminded her quickly.

“So long as it’s not less than fifty years from now,” she replied, making something of a grim joke of the situation. “There’s already a villainous comeback scheduled for that year…”

“The lowest acceptable return estimate should be fifty one years, then?” the scientist asked.

“...I guess?.. It would hardly be optimal, and we’d need to go through a lot of effort to handle him, but… Yes.” The Princess shrugged, looking out at the city once again and cringing at the thought of him being released in a not-fully-reformed state, still bearing traces of Love mixed in with Chaos, a chaotic entity to the point of consisting of more than one element. “Let’s call that the worst case scenario. He’d need to be subjected to a lot of Harmony then. We’d need to really pump in the Love after he’s petrified again, should he act up. Or teach him to make friends for a more organic source of Harmony.”

“That was… also a joke.”

“More or less.”

Diamond Eye breathed in deep and tapped on his monocle, sinking the tube to its regular outdoors length.

“We should go.”

“We should. Productive day, Diamond. A very productive day.”

‘I do wish I could say it was all-around pleasant, though.’

Consequences: Date.

“Oh, come on, you must be joking. Why would you have gone to the Gardens?” Osmosis complained, wiping a sweat of frustration off her temple. “Didn’t you have some serious business to tend to, Celie?

“You should know, Osma. Things don’t usually tend to happen the way we expect them to,” Celestia replied after taking a sip of tea. The insectoid mare opposite her bit into a massive strawberry cake that she’d been instructed to dispose of for the Princesses’ lack of stomach to accept such culinary gifts. Despite the Princess’ claims of rust, she did evidently manage to talk sweetly enough to the relevant ponies and the public as to the subject of the early sunrise that she got an enormous cake donated to her by well-wishers. “Besides, you weren’t the only one working over time. My endeavors were pretty fruitful. I didn’t go to the Garden for no reason.”

“Really now? That’s very good. I thought about being annoyed with you for a bit, considering I put all the extra effort into forcing this nice stallion to come over here and give you an excuse to spend a few hours in the Gardens,” the cake-mashed green mare replied telepathically, working her jaws extra hard to handle the sheer volumes of puffy confection she had stuffed into her mouth. “Now I can focus on unreservedly enjoying this wonderful cake you’re depriving yourself of.”

The shapeshifter chose to ignore the lengthy stare shot at her from across the table, fillling in the pause created by another sip of Celestia’s tea. The alicorn ceased to drill through her shortly anyway, as the ginger and pineapple sandwich she’d taken a bite of sent her whole body ashudder, forcing out a gasp of contentment.

“I don’t like cake, Osma. My stomach can only fit so much in. I can hardly afford to weigh myself down right now, in any case. After this long, tiring day that I’ve had, I have to be outside in fifteen minutes and await this ‘nice stallion’ in the Gardens,” she finally said with some played up dismissal. “I hope he’s tardy.”

“Pah. Don’t be growchy like that. You never know when fate may strike and you find the piece you’ve been missing your whole life. There is pretty much no way this can go wrong, Celie,” Osmosis retorted, telepathically yet again, since her snout was mostly soft pink at the rate she was burrowing into the cake. That was an accomplishment, considering that the mess she was making was being aborbed straight into her body. “You either find love, or you just have a good time walking around in this impromptu little premature sunset you’ve created this morning.”

She had to raise an eyebrow and focus a curious sheer ruby eye at the alicorn, who had begun to chuckle and sigh at what had been said, propping her chin upon a hoof.

“You know, it’s a shame I have to be leaving soon. Trust me, this thing you’ve just said sounds a little bit... “ Celestia exhaled slowly, shutting her eyes and rubbing them rigorously. “...freakishly amusing, considering some of the things I got up to today.”

“Uh— What do you mean by ‘got up to’ and why does that make what I said amusing? Or freakish? Celie, did you have se—”

Osmosis screeched and whimpered, flailing her forehooves in the air, barely remaining sat on her haunches, when the alicorn spat a helping of tea all over her face in a remarkably strong stream. Celestia’s pupils grew to the size of dishes, almost rivalling the insequine’s own plain-color gem-like eyes. The now mostly empty teacup dropped down onto the table, bouncing before managing to land on its bottom. When the green mare managed to right herself again, having wiped what didn’t get absorbed into her body off her snout with a blanket, the Princess had her snout down on the table and was covering herself up with her slipperless forehooves.

“...so, I think I shouldn’t finish that sentence then. Or ever mention what I was going to suggest ever again,” Osma guessed.

“Yes, please, thank you. I did not need a mental image of me doing THAT with… that’s just wrong. Goodness gracious, Osma, you’re a threat to Equestria’s royalty,” Celestia mumbled from underneath her hooves and sparkly mane. “I will go loopy one day. I’ve held out for hundreds of years with only minor issues, but one day you’ll say something so ridiculous, I’ll simply lose my marbles. I was just going to at least tell you the barest basics of what we managed to find out with Diamond today, but now?..” The alicorn’s loud sigh gradually transitioned into a low giggle. “You know, the worst thing is that I’m acutally finding this funny.”

“The mental image?” The shapeshifter scratched the back of her head with a temporarily sharpened hoof, contemplating browsing the upper reaches of Celestia’ thoughts and swiftly deciding against it.

“All of this,” the Princess mumbled. “I can’t take what I was going to say seriously anymore… Look, Osma, you’re almost done with the cake, right? If someone walks in while we’re away, it won’t look like I ‘hate’ whoever gave it to me because I ate ‘too little’, will I?” She made weak, lazy air quotes with her forehooves as she spoke, face remaining plastered against the table.

“Not really. I ate about half of it, and I even made sure to chew so that it looked like it was cut into pieces first.”

“Good. Come over here and lax me up a little, please. I can’t be going on this stupid excuse for a date you’ve set up for me like this,” Celestia asked. “Especially not when you seem to think there isn’t enough wrong with them to not write them out of the list of candidates. Thus meaning I can’t send you there instead of me. Which, trust me, I would enjoy doing.”

Osmosis rolled her eyes and blew a gust of air at her mane, though she did obey the face-tabled mare and made her way behind her slumped back. She flexed her neck, primarily for effect.

“You’re a charmer, Celie. I’m sure it’ll be love at first sight.”

Her hooves slipped around the mare’s neck and she began to gently, carefully, meticulously rub her soft chitin against the mildly frazzled alicorn coat. The nubs on her head glowed warmly, casting a tender tingling feeling through her forehooves and into Celestia’s body proper. A proper relaxation session this was not, what with the receiver slumping face down on a table, but it was good enough. The Princess spread her wings, which were quickly focused on, eliminating any sign of misaligned feathers and other signs of the day’s business.

“So… I’ll get into more detail when we get ready to rest for the night, but I guess I’ll let you know the most important parts of today.” Celestia yawned quietly. “You, Osma, are not related to Discord.”

“Oh, nice to… know…” the shapeshifter mumbled, blinking absently while her hooves did their work on their own. “I guess you did have a reason to be in the Gardens, then. Sure am looking forward to finding out more.”

“And there is, of course, but for now, I’m all but happy to go and receive this pony you’re trying to force into my bed. Goodness knows I’ve talked enough important things today that I’m just about ready to act in character with your goofy bottom once I meet him.” With application of weapons grade restraint, Osmosis reduced her reaction to a loud nasal puff, and did not try to choke her employer. “On that note, do enlighten me why I invited him to visit, what are we going to be doing, and who he is, exactly?”

Osma had to remind herself of the relatively tight schedule, looking mournfully at the clock. In the minutes that remained for Celestia to get ready to head out, she relayed the abridged version of today’s visit to one of Canterlot’s promising families. Fortunately for her, it ended up a much more pleasant and much less eventful encounter than her first foray.

House Meadowshine was borderline unremarkable, which, along with some other things, was why she chose them. There wasn’t much amazingly historic about them, and ever since rising to their status about two hundred years ago, they remained so. The family trade was also a lot less explosive than that of Osma’s initial tryouts, the Sparklegust family - Meadowshine have been working with plants in one way or another for ages. Gardeners, floral biologists, bouqueteers, even farmers - there was an amazing amount of things you could do with plants, it would seem. And the House was big enough for there to likely be a pony for each relevant job imaginable, as unlike many other Elite families, they were fairly glad to more or less spread themselves thin all over the entire continent.

She had good reasons to see about them, of course. All the diversity in family members meant that while her main point of attention would be the Canterlot branch, she could fish out some information about other Meadowshines with potential. The fact that gardeners, biologists and farmers sprung from the same seed, so to say, also meant that there was a chance to raise an heir that could inherit the better traits associated with each occupation. Celestia obviously wanted a Unicorn with impressive magical talent for the role of her protege, but it was clear to Osma that simply picking up an insanely powerful prodigy was going to be no good if they had absolutely no affinity for the vague elements that made Harmony work. Complex magic spells or no complex magic spells, it was the wielding of the Elements that would be the main use of that protege. There was a good reason to look into places that focused on more than just magical talents.

Of course, there were also downsides. By far the biggest one was the simple fact that while there was an astounding amount of occupations associated with plantlife, most of them happened to have something to do with raising plants. That meant that, objectively speaking, the fact that the House was barely majority Unicorn was an aberration in and of itself - it was amazing that they weren’t an entirely Earth Pony family. While Osma appreciated the numerous colts and fillies that kept her distracted as she and the masters of the House discussed today’s early sunrise, some plants’ peculiar reactions to it, trivia relating to what Equestria’s solar cycle allowed them to grow that couldn’t grow anywhere else on the planet, things family members were up to, and many other things, there were worrying trends there.

She couldn’t help but notice that three out of the masters’ five children were Earth Ponies, and two of the three older cousins staying over in the massive plantation house were apparently Earth just as well, even if she never got meet them. So on and so forth, she arrived at about a sixty-forty split counting up the numerous inhabitants of the large estate. While Earth Ponies did have magic, theirs was a distinctly different type from that of the Unicorn race, and they did indeed need a Unicorn, and they didn’t need them now - they needed them in a few decades. Not the easiest choice to make when so many traits and qualities may just not come with the right extremity.

That didn’t bother her too much, because she spent most of her time subtly flirting with multiple stallions at once, inquiring them about flowers she assumed Celestia would like, being fed several particularly exquisite bouquets, and playing around with the kids. This time around, it was difficult to even choose who to try to go after - or, rather, force onto Celestia and see about making them click. At least the ones more... passionate about their love for trees and nature, who had more of a herbalistic inclination, could be ruled out right away.

There were many qualities that could attract the complicated soul of the Princess to a stallion, and those were just the ones Osma was sure about. The Meadowshine family provided a lot of wonderful specimens, be it in their colors, complexion, hairstyle, manner of talking, hobbies, attitudes, or… other aspects of complexion. Growing up in a fairly loving family that valued both the sciences and more manual work, they had no chance not to often end up just the right mixture of strong, absent-mindedly charming, disarmingly straightforward, slightly goofy and smart. Eventually, when time was drawing for her to force herself to leave, she had to make a decision based primarily on who pumped the most sparkly affection waves into her when they interacted.

Gladeshade, a younger brother to the master of the house, and an uncle to his swarm of children, was a toned, tall, smooth-snouted hot pink Earth Pony with all but perpetually sparkling, soothing green eyes. He had a rather agreeable, well-combed, lengthy vanilla brown mane, and wore a gardener’s netted vest so well one would think it was in style (even if Osma was well aware it was by and large a fashion abomination, hence Celestia would likely appreicate it). He spoke softly, with a prominent Appleloosan twang, and didn’t seem too flustered when interacting with her, being by far one of the bolder ones to catch onto her signals, yet not exactly pushy. Granted, he appeared to have pretty bad taste in tea (hardly a fan of Celestia’s favorite lemon green) or flowers (she never knew there could be a pony who dismissed daffodil sandwiches), but it wasn’t like she was choosing him to be a cook. There had definitely been worse personality traits to have, and Gladeshade compensated for the flaws Osmosis could readily find with his strong legs, smooth, strong chest, and many other subtle details of stallion anatomy.

When she stood in the Gardens, way off to the side, having taken on the guise of Serviette, one of the royal waiters, she realized that the novelty of inviting him into the Canterlot Gardens was significantly lesser when one considered the fact that his brother just so happened to be their Head Gardener. Osmosis covered her light brown curly-maned disguise’s cheeks with pulsating blush upon realizing the mishap.

‘Oh you must be kidding me… He’d know every last little corner of this place with how much his entire family loves talking about what they do. He’s going to give HER an excursion, what is there for HER to show him?’ she whined silently in her mind. ‘Why won’t I think straight when I’m being pumped full of adoration by dozens of ponies?! This wasn’t a vacation, I was supposed to do other things than flirt, count Unicorns and enjoy myself! I was supposed to… have self-control, I guess. Okay, this isn’t unsalvageable yet.’

She lowered her hooves and realized that approaching the Guard-flanked Princess from the faraway gates to the vast, idyllic gardens was a small, nasty problem. Another one. Gladeshade wasn’t alone.

‘Why is— Ah. Right. Of course. He doesn’t even live here. He didn’t KNOW where to go! I didn’t tell him! Now we have two Meadowshades to deal with, and the other will distract Celie from him if they stay!’ She turned her large, watery blue eyes toward a sunset-laden sunflower, hardly containing her emotions considering the mare whose form she chose for spying on the date tended to cry at the drop of a needle anyway. ‘Why, plans, why, why are you so pretty before you start crum—’ She forcibly cleared her throat and kicked her hooves into the grass, taking a deep breath. ‘Calm down. This can still be fine. Let’s not… overplan. Maybe they’ll just leave and Sunny will have her romantic date with the soft, reliable, hard-working Appleloosan brother of her Head Gardener! Aaah!’

“Why hello there, Princess!” Gladeshade’s soft, pleasant voice carried on to her with the wind.

“Greetings, Princess. Quite a funny thing we meet like this, no?” a different, definitely familiar voice spoke up right afterward, and Osma’s eye twitched. “My step-cousin didn’t know the way and I was just on my way to the lab from work.”

“Good evening, Gladeshade,” Celestia said, with an audible sigh. “And good evening to you, Aster. Yes, it’s… quite funny.”

The sincerely less than expected Unicorn next to the Earth Pony was the Court Wizard’s apprentice, not a good sign at all, considering it was the latter that Celestia did some important things with today. The periwinkle stallion looked much like he usually did, wearing a short starry-pink wizard’s cloak the likes of which Celestia once pointed were hardly ever worn by any actual wizards in the time of old. Both the cloak and his high-cut bumblebee mane swiveled in the wind, though he seemed largely unconcerned, which was a general theme with this befreckled stallion.

Aster and Doctor Diamond did not get to interact that much, so him staying around was bound to change the flow of this conversation significantly. And he was likely to do just that - while not quite as much of an oddity as his bespectacled superior, the periwinkle stallion had a healthy amount of your usual bookworm’s social naivete, and Gladeshade couldn’t have been blunt enough to have explained that this was very likely to transform into a date. Then again, the fact that he himself had figured that out was mere conjecture on Osma’s part. If one were to judge from the very basic emphatic waves emanating from the scene, as well as the less than urgent look in Aster’s yellow eyes, he appeared to be quite happy to stick around to spend some time with a relative and a Princess.

‘What is… how is… Oh, just end me here and now. What, was I supposed to inquire about every single relative they had just in case something like this would happen? Of all the cursed things, the one stallion that Celie IS going to be distracted by at this moment in time.’ She heaved and shook her forehooves at the sky, biting on her lower lip. ‘Okay! Fine! Things just got harder, but I’m not giving up! I’ll interfere on my own if I have to! Here’s hoping that whatever she was up to today is so tiresome that she won’t want to talk to him and just lets him go.’

She reassumed a posture more befitting a Canterlot Towers waiter and trotted in place, desperately turning the gears inside her head. Simulating a very thorough inspection of the tulips that grew at around the patch of lawn she was observing the situation from, Osma examined the commotion on the other side of the road. Two stately, if bored, Royal Guards in gilded armor, two distantly related, if interfering, Meadowshine stallions, and one serene-looking, if oblique and unapproachable alicorn. Her goal was to make sure that at a near point in the future, three of the stallions were removed and the remaining two actors moved to Celestia’s bed chambers. Now that she couldn’t just hide in the bushes and watch the smooth stallion be as gentle with her in the Gardens as he was with not-quite-her back at the estate, she was going to need to improvise.

The shapeshifter took off with a decisive, albeit dignified pace, appearing to most anyone she passed by that she was, at most, in a hurry. Her memory was put to a slight test, but before too long - within the realm of about twenty minutes - she’d done the rounds around the building, abusing her persuasion skills to procure a serving of snacks, a bottle of sparkly pinkgrape wine, and justifiably explain her presence to another waiter who seemed to remember that the mare Osma had turned into wasn’t meant to be around (five minutes’ worth of time lost, but her image original was probably getting paid overtime for this, though likely coupled with a number of suggestive looks - she was free to deal with those as she saw fit).

‘I’d like you to up and reject this, Celie. You aren’t getting out of this one, you are going to have a nice, pleasant dinner. No pretending you didn’t order anything, no complaining about the food, not with company like this. Unless the prospect of having a good time is so deathly to the likes of her, she’d rather make herself out to be a mean hag to a nice, smooth stallion. And also her Court Wizard’s apprentice, him too.’ Osmosis thought to herself as she trotted swiftly back, hiding a triumphant smirk. ‘If he’s still there, he’s next on the line to be dealt with.’

Upon returning, she found the mare and stallions quite some distance away, and had to switch herself to autopilot upon seeing that Celestia and Aster were talking to each other, sat closeby at one of the Gardens’ picnic tables, while all that could be seen of Gladeshade was his rump sticking out of a deep hole in a recently planted, multicolored, faintly shining giving tree. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, a process that was halted by the fact she felt one of the armored Guards look straight at her. They exchanged awkward looks for another couple moments, at which point Osma noticed that his eyes were less suspicious and more surprised, much like hers. The shapeshifter shook her head and motioned with her hooves that the order was for the Princess and her guests.

‘Great. At least someone is appreciating what Gladeshade has to offer. Not that he should be offering it in quite such a way, and not that that someone is supposed to have wings and a horn. How did she even get him down there? He looks like he’s not coming out just yet. What even is that tree, again?’ Osma approached the table, taking slower, calmer steps, not that the massive plate on her back was hard to balance, but she had to put effort into not letting her disguise slip. ‘I hope it’s not a sick tree or something. Gladeshade is into healing trees. It’s his cutiemark, a tree with sparkles all around.’

Her luck was on the downturn when she and Celestia shared a lengthy glare exchange that left her without doubt as to the fact she had been found out, at least as far as the Princess was concerned. Fortunately, the frumpy Princess seemed to roll with it.

“Well now, would you look at that,” she said. “We have refreshments coming in. Very timely. After Mister Gladeshade is done with the giving tree, he will certainly want something to drink.”

Osmosis served her bearings onto the table, suppressing her desire to viciously stab Celestia with her eyes. She turned to look at the supposed stallion of the Princess’ dreams, whose tail swished in the air, if gracefully so. He was a fairly graceful pony, all in all, too bad the mare he was meant to be made for seemed intent on putting down both his style and his grace.

‘If that’s the game you’re playing at, then so be it, Sunny,’ Osma decided resolutely. ‘Be glad I won’t shout at you in your head when Aster is around. I don’t think he will bother detecting me, but regardless, I’m above that.’

“Is something wrong with our giving tree, Princess?” she asked in the waiter mare’s voice. “It’s only been here for a few months… is it the spitting?”

“...why, yes. I’ve decided to…” Celestia glanced briefly at the work-consumed stallion. “...bring in an expert to see about all the spittle coming out of this tree whenever it’s ready to deliver.”

“And at a good time too. I haven’t been keeping perfect track of this particular tree, but it should be dispensing a heavy load any time now,” Aster spoke up, having procured a napkin to wrap around his neck. He extended one to the alicorn at his side wordlessly, and she accepted with with a shrug, even if it did look rather comically small above her neck harness. “Giving trees are a very finnicky sort, I could never really figure them out. Useful, of course, but I do wish someone would look into how they really work.”

“Well, Aster, there are many, many things we can’t seem to understand despite so much research. It’s quite confusing.” Celestia poured herself a sparkling drink and swiftly downed it.

“Oh yes, well, that’s the problem with science. Sometimes you do end up learning something,” he answered, smiling and rubbing himself behind the ear in a slight display of awkwardness. “That can be inconvenient. All the meticulous studying you poured into the subject, and then suddenly it gets figured out. That’s an existential crisis in a vacuum.”

“You’re alarmingly right, Aster,” Celestia replied. “I… ugh. I, I suppose I wouldn’t want to find out that giving trees feast on our affection and their fruit comes from some dark realm that is trying to consume ours. That would definitely deprive giving trees of their style.”

‘Making small talk, are you now, huh. Well, good job, Celie, only it’s not him you’re meant to be talking to. I pick a stallion out just for you, and you start being friendly… well, more friendly than usual, with the closest other guy you can find. I know dedication when I see it.’ Osma deliberated between remaining in their proximity to potentially make it more awkward and stepping away to avoid soiling the actual servant mare’s standing. For the time being she pretended to gawk at the scenery, which, in all fairness, was definitely a dominant feature in the Gardens. ‘Well you’re not gonna be able to talk about these… ethereal topics forever. And for solid things, I’ve brought you Gladeshade. Goodness gracious, what is so engaging down there that he won’t come out?’

She caught Aster glancing over at her. Unlike Celestia, and evermore unlike his mentor Diamond Eye, this Unicorn was considerably more expressive and less subtle. She could tell that he definitely found her presence inconvenient, presumably without even knowing who she actually was. The mare looked back with the best impression of innocent, loyal helpfulness.

“Miss Serviette,” he addressed her. “Now, I understand this isn’t the proper way to do introductions, but that stallion in the tree there, he’s my…” He clicked his tongue and puffed his nostrils. “...cousin. His name is Gladeshade. He’s volunteered to see to some things with the garden. This particular tree, as you said, spits a lot, so he’s likely to be a bit drenched when he comes out, so would you kindly see about getting someone over here who could take care of that quickly and efficiently?” The purple Unicorn smiled, mostly with his lips, not so much his eyes. “I’d rather not have to summon a wash spirit, and Princess Celestia really needn’t give stallions she only met this very day showers. So, please?”

“Oh, of course, by all means! I’m sure Princess Celestia picked the best possible stallion for the job - it would be an awful shame for him to be soaked in tree spit on such a big day!” she replied, piping up the excitement. “It’ll be a jiffy, Master Aster, your hard-working cousin can count on a good, quick cleaning!”

“Just Aster, please,” he told her, dragging a hoof down his forehead and exhaling loudly.

Osma found herself in conflicted spirits as she trotted swiftly outside their view and, after some memory browsing, took on the visage of the right pony for the cleaning job. On the one side, she could tell that Celestia was less tense and unapproachable, if subtly so. She even seemed to have chuckled lightly at Aster’s exasperation with what he was called. As the shapeshifter paced around impatiently, checking to see if it was the right pony she turned into (which it was; one of the Royal Spa employees with a cutie mark of water and bubbles), she could also rather easily pick up on the ensuing conversation with her empathic link and slightly superior hearing. Which was good, but on the other side, this was quite literally the exact set of events that was meant to happen with this stallion she painstakingly selected from a whole bucketload of fitting specimens. The exact things they were talking about also sounded a little suspicious.

“...that’s what you can look forward to, then. I understand it’s quite something to take in,” Celestia was saying. “But such things just tend to… happen, sometimes.”

“Ohhh… boy. Do they ever. I never even knew,” Aster’s voice came in return, puzzled.

“That’s because developments like these tend to be abrupt. I just so happened to bring in a little bit of Love, and off it all went. When push came to shove, all I could do was stand and face the facts,” the Princess continued. Osma stopped in her tracks and perked up her ears, jingling the lengthy jewelled earrings the mare she’d turned into often wore. “So here we are now, Aster. This should prove interesting.”

“I’ll be blunt and note that I have got nothing to say to that right now. Love?.. Just… Love?..” Aster trailed off into a long, exasperated sigh. “Heavens, there’s so much that can be done now. Also, so much that shouldn’t.”

“Aren’t you ever so correct, Aster. See, now that I’ve informed you, it won’t be such a shock to process. I could go in detail, if you wish. Though after the... chaotic endeavor that today has been, I could get the finer details wrong.” Celestia’s thoughtwaves wobbled a little, even though Osma wasn’t directly browsing them. She must have taken a good sip. While it would hardly have done much to her, the shapeshifter would hardly have minded some alcohol herself.

‘What is going ON? What is she talking about? Love, what? What, Love? Love? What? No, this is… Is she playing me?’ she pondered, trampling the grass underhoof. ‘That’s what this is, isn’t it? Has she stooped so low as to start talking about love with ANY stallion she can find, so long as it’s not the one I picked for her? Was today so bad that she has to be this spiteful? This would be a record even by her standards. Why else would she be talking about this?’ She lost her patience and kicked her hind legs before setting off into a trot, coming onto the scene somewhat suspiciously early.

The teal middle-aged mare with a tall pink hair-do that she turned into had a bit too many jingly fashion accessories all around, not to mention her mane, necessitating a much slower pace than she would have preferred. Not only was her jewelry dangerously out of season, with far too many amethysts for her coloration, but it hampered Osma’s urgent need to find out what in the world was going on before Celestia started making out with that Unicorn specifically to spite her. The mental image made her have to suppress a smirk.

“Oh. Miss, uh…” Aster called out before stopping awkwardly. He was never a frequent spa visitor. She did the bowing routine in the meantime, muttering “Princess” quietly with reverence.

“...” Celestia sat completely silent, pretending to sip a shot she’d emptied long ago. She did not have good memory for ponies’ names.

“...Serviette called you over, yes?” the stallion found his way out of the predicament before Osma could tell him that the mare’s name was Whirlpool.

“Yes, she did, Master Aster,” the shapeshifter replied, revelling in him sinking the hoof his snout was perched upon deeper into his cheek. “A sweaty stallion emergency of some kind? I don’t suppose that could possibly be you?” She said with some cheek to her voice, perusing the freedom of speech the mare’s conversational tendencies provided. “Your flower doesn’t look like it needs watering particularly much, in fact you seem a little dry.”

While Celestia poured herself a new drink, having realized she could have downed the entire bottle in the amount of time spent pretending, Aster cleared his throat and motioned with his hoof toward the tree. Osma used the chance to admire Gladeshade’s flanks yet again.

“My… cousin over there is fighting a losing battle. It’s clear by now that him, his hooves and his smarts alone aren’t going to solve the little spitting issue it’s been having. Do please, ahh… extract him from there, and get him looking .”

“Aaah,” she replied, nodding and biting her lower lip momentarily. “Oh yes, we cannot have sweaty stallions of this caliber mingling with the Princess. Do consider it done.”

Osmosis made sure to give Celestia the most subtle, yet piercing glare she could manage, and then set off to rescue the date. Without much warning, and ignoring Gladeshade’s muffled affirmation that things were coming along just fine, she grabbed the stallion firmly by the tail with Whirlpool’s magic, and had him outside the colorful, wobbling tree in a single pull. Her empathic sensitivity allowed her to feel a distinct pang of disappointment, coming presumably from one of the guards.

“Yoo-ahh...” He exhaled languidly, shaking his head in mild confusion. “Thought I was just about done. Another service I can do?”

“Yes, Mister—” Osma caught herself almost saying the name she didn’t know yet.

“Gladeshade, ma’am,” he helped her our with a smile.

It would have been charming if not for the fact that his attractive, refined features were covered in jelly-like orange goop that smelled of pear and ginger.

‘And he still looks not half bad. Celie, stop missing good things.’

“Very glad to meet you,” she answered, and tugged at his forehoof. “Now do follow me, we’ll get you presentable for the Princess in a blink of an eye.”

“Oh? But I wasn’t—”

“Your cousin says the tree doesn’t need salvaging as much as you do.” She beckoned for him to follow, eyeing up the nearest secluded area and doing some preliminary magical channeling so as not to flounder at Whirlpool’s trademark aquatic magic. “Now off we go, Mister Gladeshade, you’re so gooey and moist.”

“It’s not that bad, just let me back there for a few more minutes and I’ll have you a winner!” he retorted. Considering the fact Celestia and Aster were back to chatting, Osma realized drastic measures needed taking.

“I’m afraid not! Now off we go, don’t keep the Princess waiting with your cousin,” she told him, all but hauling him after her. “Don’t waste such an important day on being gooey inside a sniffly tree, Mister Gladeshade, or the Princess will have to listen to the riveting tales of how the magic school is doing. And she can do that any day, but you may not be here tomorrow!”

“Oh, well, if you insist…” he submitted, at long last.

A convenient arrangement of hedges allowed her to get to work quickly. He had protests, being more used to actual showers as opposed to being magically cleaned in the middle of the Canterlot Gardens by a mare he didn’t know while the Princess herself was talking with his spotlight-stealing step-cousin only a few steps down the path. Generally, he turned out to be a bit of a fussy pony, while still soft-spoken. He sure was awkward, and her handling of the precise temperature and pressure of the water she was pouring onto him from a somewhat titular whirlpool was not entirely perfect, but Osma expected him to be a bit less huffy, gaspy and yeowchy. He would also occasionally try to mention the fact that he really was almost done with the tree and wanted more time with the specimen, but she would shut him up there and then. By when they were about done, she essentially tamed him into following most anything she said.

Osma deliberated between going through his coat with soaped up water and drying him off as he was. A proper look and an aromatic boost, at odds with rescuing the date. As he was made to pose and do some rubbing underneath her shower, the mare had another thing to vie for her attention beside his shapes and curves. The bits and pieces she kept hearing were capturing some of her attention too.

“...that’s a big decision to make. I wouldn’t want to doubt your judgement, but just in case, do you really believe this was an opportunity worth taking?” Aster’s murmured. “Because… I just… I don’t think I’m quite…”

“I know what you mean. As I said, it seems the decent thing to do to introduce you to the barrage of events that’s happened. You’re important in all this, even if you’re not Court Wizard yet,” Celestia replied to him. “One day you’ll take up the mantle and have to sort all of this out. Tumultuous times are coming.”

The shapeshifter let out a loud groan that developed into a sigh.

‘Oh, now you’re trying to confuse me, huh? You go from talking to him like you’re about to get married, and now it’s all ooga-booga-evil-is-coming-go-find-me-a-student-now? Nice bait and switch, Sunny.’ Whirlpool’s snout scrunched into a squinty-eyed grimace, and her horn flickered momentarily. ‘If you’re willing to try so hard just to mess with me, then you have no excuse not to have lured a stallion into your bed yet.’ As she pondered over the Princess’ devious machinations, her focus on the washing spell broke off. There was a momentary strong flush of chilly water descending onto Gladeshade, who gasped and eeped, raising his forehooves to his chest and biting his lip. ‘...and I just doused the one I got for you in cold water. Great.’

“Wha-whu-wha-waaas that necessary?!” the shuddering stallion squeaked out, having lost a fair amount of his suave demeanor. “Gosh, Miss Whirlpool, this is so cold…”

“It’s called a contrast shower. It’s good for you. Now get yourself in order, I’ll have you dried back up in a second,” she ordered, putting in a smidge more bark into the spa mare’s voice than was required. Gladeshade succumbed instantly upon their eyes having met, and forced himself to stop shaking, spreading his limbs out. Osma neglected to fully empathize with the chill-dripping Earth Pony and took an additional moment to evaluate his body - still quite acceptable, and the wet mane suited him too. “You can’t impress the Princess all frosty and shaky and wet - I’m not letting you out of here in anything but tip top shape. Fortunately I’m skilled in magical drying.”

“Wait, b-but, if you’re using ma—”

“Shush! Calm, still, quiet!” she hissed, and he instantly obliged, looking down with worried eyes.

‘You have no idea how much you have to worry about. I’m rescuing you here! You could be in bed with Celestia! Tonight! Maybe! Ungrateful, droopy, soaked stud.’

The fanning, heating whirlpools she’d summoned to his sides at least required less focus. Even while she needed to manually adjust his puffing-up coat and mane with her hooves, Osmosis still had the opportunity to listen in on what was going on there where he was meant to be impressing Celestia with his soft voice, calm wit and toned body. As opposed to bewildering a spa master who was actually a royal shapeshifter with just how puffy and blown-up his mane and coat could apparently get. On the other side of the hedges, things were progressing.

‘Come on, Celie. What poison are you spilling into Aster’s head to make him take his cousin’s opportunity of a lifetime away from him?’

“Oh dear. Injecting ancient horrors with Love to mold them into seeing reason. Here I thought teaching was ridiculous,” the Unicorn said, apparently reacting to something… interesting Osma had missed. “I can’t help but feel like something about this plan is fishy.”

“I do too, Aster, but you know well that solid plans don’t typically tend to work out. Especially not with things like… him. It makes more sense once some numbers Diamond provided me with are taken into account,” Celestia replied. “At least, I would like to think so.”

“While I wouldn’t doubt him too much, I can’t help but feel skeptical. So much can go wrong here. I don’t want to doubt you either, Princess, but—”

“It’s fine, Aster. You’re free to doubt me. That’s why I talk to you and Diamond. I can’t just make all the important decisions on my own,” Celestia cut him off. There were things in that conversations that made Osma raise an eyebrow, not that Gladeshade noticed it, since she was fighting to keep his mane from turning into a wavy waterfall of fluff.

“...Well, yes. No, I’m not saying you made any catastrophic mistakes, Princess, but let’s face it, no one can deal with the stress of rulership forever.” The meddlesome Unicorn’s bluntness seemed to have shaped itself into a close approximation of supportive consolation. “After a day of dealing with the kids and sorting out the papers Diamond has me looking at, I can just get loopy. I mean, I sometimes catch myself trying to exit work through the tool shed door in my office.”

The Princess chuckled, audibly trying to hold it down, but failing. Gladeshade tried to complain about something again, now that his snout wasn’t being barraged with hot air and mashing hooves, but Osma shushed him down. Interesting things were happening.

“Oh, goodness me. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what I do after I’m done with days… like this one, actually,” Celestia said. “I’d burn up where I sit.”

“Was the school facade design one of those occasions, Princess?” Aster perked up, with some playfulness to his voice. They seemed to have nearly finished the bottle. “I won’t ask for it to be changed back, it’d take valuable time, and so on, and so forth… but really… while we did accidentally speed up the decay of the front of our school in a magic experiment I really shouldn’t have sanctioned, the hot pink and baby blue with stars and magic wands is not the most dignified of patterns.” He gulped, choking down a laugh himself. “Now that I think of it, it seems fitting punishment. For me, that is. But the kids?..”

“Now, while I do feel regretful over several things, that one is not my fault. It was a slow day and I decided to visit the spa, and then it appeared that I haven’t been treated in so long that I had to stay there for several hours. And you can guess what happened while I was away,” the alicorn replied somewhat irritably. The shapeshifter scrunched her snout in recognition of both the incident and her obvious implication. “Most of the time it’s fine, but when it’s things like this… I just can’t feel safe when it comes to, ahm. The more cosmetic side of things ponies ask me for help with. The first opportunity we get, we’re refurbishing it. I can’t have my School for Gifted Unicorn looking like this. It’s an important establishment.”

‘It looked nice. At the time.’ Osma frowned. Gladeshade tried to whine again, but she was nearly done and it was just his rump left, so a single poke to his muscled side silenced him. ‘Looking back, it should all have been blue - azure, perhaps. The old design with the columns was lame.’

“Ah, yes. I see. Well, that just means I can have all the more sympathy for you in this particular case, Princess. It’s no longer your fault our school looks like a kindergarten,” he said, hardly seeming that frustrated himself. “Working on things that’ll have potentially world-ending ramifications isn’t the sort of thing you want to be doing in a building like that. It’s a little bit ridiculous.”

“Putting Love in a beaker is also ridiculous, if you think about it,” Celestia replied, providing yet another thing Osma could only perk her ears at. Context was going to be required when this was over. “So… yes, these are all big decisions. If you need to know more, I could recount what specifically we did back there.”

“I wonder what it was that made acting on Discord now a particularly good idea, yes. Continue by all means, I doubt my cousin will be back very soon. We have an incredibly strong bad shower hair gene in our family.”

“Really now, do you? Ah, well. I am sure he’s in good hooves.” Celestia’s slyness could be felt from a mile away. Osma glared at the very obvious bearer of the worst incarnation of the bad shower hair gene Aster so timely mentioned.

In all this, though, her gears were turning, and things didn’t seem that straightforward anymore. She eyed the dried up stallion with a thorough, critical eye. Visually speaking, he looked only slightly poofy, only his chest seemed particularly fuzzy - an accomplishment to be sure. He gave her good reasons to truly drive some daggers into him as she sauntered round, in less of a hurry now than before.

Now that she had been waylaid enough times by various inconveniences, Osma was beginning to have doubts as to her choice of dream date stallion. Gladeshade, as he stood before her now, was different from the one she thought she knew well enough to pitch to the Princess. In more ways than his fluffiness, too - that one was, in fact, a boon of sorts, few mares wouldn’t like a poofy stallion at their disposal. The rest of her findings were less positive. Not that they were horrid character flaws, but he seemed an… inferior choice for Celestia specifically now.

In Whirlpool’s guise, being able to order him around and speak roughly, towering slenderly above his well-built frame, she appeared to be able to bend Gladeshade every which way. There was some room for error, but nowhere near enough for her to be unable to say that if he were ever partnered with Celestia, she would make a pretzel out of him in no time. Putting her combined experience with him together, Osmosis saw it rather clearly now. Gladeshade had a very defined weakness for commanding, rougher mares that boasted an age advantage over him.

During her time at the Meadowshine estate, the shapeshifter put effort into being appealing and generally agreeable, what with the sheer amount of ponies around. It was necessary for finding out the necessary information, and one rarely went wrong with being nice and laid back. This was one case where it misfired. Gladeshade seemed the sweetest, most fitting one, as he talked to the serene, smiling, occasionally sly Princess Celestia. He appeared as if he would be a solid refresher to her everyday life, not being too high-society and having more of a working pony’s mind, while still bearing considerable wits. The fact he exhibited some of the more palpable interest in conversing with her about various things and getting a chance to show himself off also helped - he went beyond the reverence of some others. Clearly, he liked Celestia in more ways than one, as did many ponies.

But if this strong, toned, smart, soft-spoken Earth Pony were to be inserted into the Princess’ more everyday life, little of Osma’s imagined idyllic relationship between an honest worker and wizened royalty would remain. The real, private Princess Celestia, even if she were to - and she would - restrain herself and try to put on a more official mask in talking to her new partner, was ever so pushy of a mare. Part of it was intrinsic, part of it was acquired after having lived with Osma for so long and being used to having her for what was essentially a pincushion. Gladeshade met enough requirements that she would find him appealing to keep around, should he have passed the ever so impassable initial test of even being considered. But were he to win, he would turn into another such pincushion with remarkable speed. Even disregarding Celestia’s restraint and potential maskery, it was clear he would all but initiate it.

‘He’s one submissive little garden boy. Gosh, he likes it. Well, HE would be having fun, but I am not reinforcing Celie’s tendencies,’ she resolved, clicking her tongue and shaking her head as the stallion looked at her uneasily, eyebrows raised, lips trembling. Cute, yes, inordinately so. Too cute. She tried to puff down his chest a little, yet again shutting him up at the makings of another potential protest, drowning them in huffs and eeks. ‘She isn’t going to win this easily, though. Not even with this miserable little mishap that you are, Gladeshade. She thinks she’s turned the tables on me! I’ll turn them on her.’

And she could, in fact, much needn’t be done. Osma recognized that her focus on this one specific stallion cost her in the long run. Her job was to get Celestia suited with a stallion whom she found attractive, whom she could talk to, who reinforced her good sides and who contrasted her enough to truly complete her. If a cleaner mind was assumed… then someone all too terribly fitting for the spot was sitting right next to the unapproachable mare that was the Princess, and they had been having dinner together this entire time. Already.

Evaluating Aster outside the frame of a nuisance brought onto this world specifically to mess up her plans, he fit a whole lot of the criteria. He was periwinkle purple with a bumblebee yellow mane bearing a white stripe, befitting his name - those were colors Celestia was fond of to a decent degree. His hair was sort of a disaster, which meant she more than likely found it attractive. The white freckles that permanently occupied the tops of his cheeks were also a tiny detail that the picky alicorn could easily find endearing. His messy and overall unfortunate choices of wardrobe borne of a certain disregard to daily minutia borne out of that Unicorn’s mentally taxing occupations were likely to pander to her despicable fashion style, too. On top of that, the somewhat longer horn with a well-defined rising spiral pattern was a particularly subtle like of Celestia’s that she had once discovered by chance.

What made him really applicable, however, was his personality and behavior. Him and Celestia could easily connect on many levels - there was less difference between ruling a country and teaching children than it would seem. They were also both prone to silly, careless habits due to the drain that their work was on their minds. Better yet, however, Aster, while not quite as mercurial and strange as his mentor, was still quite unlike most ponies in his straightforward manner of talking with the Princess. He was one of the few denizens of Equestria to truly think she may be mistaken and go as far as to say so in conversation. He appeared a sort of polar opposite to what Gladeshade turned out to be, overall, starting with his looks and ending with his behavior. As if things weren’t good enough, him and her were already acquainted, an immense boost all around.

‘And to top it all off, he should be good with children, teaching them magic no less. Oh yes, this is… perfect. All I need to do is monitor how they spend their time together, starting now, and nudge them in the right places. Sunny, you have been outplayed.’ With a contented sigh, she turned around and cast another trying glance at the stallion who failed. ‘Now to get rid of this failed project and— What the?..’

Her lack of attention for Gladeshade’s finer details did not stop where she thought it stopped. Over the short amount of time she spent not paying too much real attention to him, he went back to being just as fluffy. Specifically in the chest.

“What’s going on here?” she inquired demandingly.

At first it seemed simply frustrating and odd, but then she finally truly processed the look in his eyes as he tried to warn her again.

“M-miss Whirlpool, I… well… well, you… I don’t mean any disrespect, but I tried to tell you! Uoohh, ahh…” The Earth Pony shifted uncontrollably, starting to trot in place. “Okay, maybe there aren’t THAT many… any time nooow…”

“...Mister Gladeshade? What’s the issue here? Is your coat really that picky with what water it likes?”

“I tried to tell yooou,” he whined. “I’m all pollinated! It’s spreading season for giving trees! That’s why it’s spitting, I tried to quell the inflammation, but there’s only so much I can do! I’m covered in giving tree seeds!”

“And?..” She scratched her head, wobbling Whirlpool’s pink mane.

“They react to magical water very strongly, they’re magical plants, so this… um… speeds…” He hiccupped, his eyes growing wide and glassy. “...it ...up… oh no…” He began to really twist, bending over in half and then back again, heaving and then retching.

“Gladesha—”

Osmosis’ troubled cry was cut off by something moist, yet plushy hitting her right in the snout. And then another. And then again. And then the entirety of the secluded hedged place she’d turned into Gladeshade’s shower was bombarded by those objects.

They shot out of every puffy area on the stallion’s body, places she previously thought merely unruly - in truth, they couldn’t rest because the hairs housed arcane floral ammunition. No stallion could have been this fluffy by nature. Now there was giving tree produce shooting out of everywhere, including his mouth. The stallion spat out gift after gift, fortunately not at a high enough rate to choke. Once Osma regained control, she hurried to his aid, pulling out the one that was half-stuck in his mouth.

It got worse from there.

‘Oh no. Oh no no. Oh no no no no. They actually read your mind. Oh, this is…’ She couldn’t even think of a good way to describe this.

Every single object being shot out of poor Gladeshade was a doll of Princess Celestia. Some were innocent and cute-looking, plush and smiley. Most, such as the one she just pulled out of his mouth, weren’t. Most were… lewd, to put it mildly.

‘My oh my, is he into some things…’ Osma mused in bewilderment. ‘At least he really WAS looking forward to this, huh…’

The barrage ended right around the time she could hear the Guards’ hooves thudding against the ground nearby. Swiftly, she made her way over to them, and shouted in abject panic:

“There’s an emergency situation over here! Nobody come in, you might get hit! No, not even you!” Whirlpool’s hoof found itself squashed straight against the snout of one of the two stallions. “I’ll go get… a doctor! No, no, don’t worry, he appears fine, but we need to make sure. Don’t let anyone come in, it’s a big mess in there.”

‘Ugh, he’s not even concerned. He looks disappointed. He’s the same one I caught gawking at Gladeshade’s rump earlier, isn’t he? Well I have enough of a mess to sort out without him being allowed to see what he’s like right now. Curses, just as I thought I had it!’

Osma shot one last piercing, pleading glance at Celestia, who was, in turn, very confused, her mouth left slightly open. Fortunately, her sincerity was detected:

“Guard that spot, don’t let anyone else come in,” she said, and let the shapeshifter rush off in relief. Naturally, her order planted the Guards in place.

“And do not go in! We’re lucky the area is walled off,” Aster added, raising from his seat, albeit unsteadily, and pointing his hoof in the armored stallions’ direction for emphasis. “When a gifting spree event is triggered, the fruits need to stay dormant lest they spread more pollen! Remember, these were weeds a few years ago!”

“Did you know this would happen?” Celestia asked, turning her eyes suspiciously toward the Unicorn. She sipped the last of her wine with the side of her mouth, preferring to focus on him.

“I… sort of did. I don’t mean that I did this on purpose, of course, of— of course not.” He gulped and blushed. He was already somewhat flushed up from the alcohol him and the Princess shared, in any case. “It’s just that… pah, I feel like my mind’s one giant sieve. I just forget little important details sometimes. In retrospect, we should just have sent him to a proper shower. Magical water triggers giving tree pollen to activate, you see. And, well, it’s clearly spreading season right now.”

“I would say cousin Gladeshade could have used that information before he was halfway submerged inside the tree,” she pointed out, raising her eyebrow and smiling.

“I didn’t know I was right. My cutiemark may be a flower, but I’m not the plant expert in here, so I kept my opinion to myself,” Aster said in self-defence. “I always saw mine as more of a metaphor, in any case. And besides, his has a tree on it, and this was… no, nevermind, we just call them giving trees. They are actually a genus of raphanus arcanum. Yes, timely information coming from me, I know.” He sighed. “I should either drink less… or more.”

“This particular wine was, in fact, rather good. It’s a shame we’ve put an end to it. I can’t say I noticed when we did that…” Celestia scrunched her mouth momentarily before reassuming a more proper looking expression. “If I’m to offer an excuse, it’s because today has been quite the ridiculous, restless day. I raised the sun early, you know. Silly reasons, no need to ask.”

“At times like these I wonder how this place is still standing when ponies like us are in charge,” Aster muttered, adding in a laugh to make sure he wasn’t taken too seriously. “Equestria is an odd place when you look at it from an unbiased perspective.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad. Let’s not be too hard on ourselves. Some other ponies with influence can be worse.” The Princess deliberated for a moment, and then resolved to channeling a somewhat complex spell. It worked - there was a new bottle of wine on the table, though a bit dusty and covered in cobwebs. Aster didn’t waste much time uncorking it and pouring new glasses. “Now, if more bright minds like the one who gave us ‘rockanomics’ all the way in Vanhoover slip through the tracks - then it’ll be a true cause for alarm.”

“Goodness. Yeah, I’ll only be able to compare with that level of silliness if I keep this job to my old age.” The Unicorn shook his head. “Ungh, I just realized.”

“What is it?”

“I am sitting here, having drinks and sandwiches with Princess Celestia. Somehow, this seems a little odd. Especially if I remember the fact my cousin probably just burst a whole barrage of… whatever the tree decided the gifts would be.” Aster rubbed his forehead, spreading a bit of the moisture that had sprung up on the spot as the two of them leaned in on the wine. “Granted, at the rate I’m going at, soon enough I won’t. I should really stop right here, I can’t hold my spirits,” he muttered defeatedly, and emptied most of his glass.

“If you’re worried about someone spreading rumors about our ‘relationship’, then don’t. The Canterlot gossip community has been fighting for years over who I am bedding. This would only add another side to the conflict, which is fair, I suppose. Can’t just let things be stale.” Princess Celestia exhaled and remembered to take a bite from a nearby sandwich. “Stale can sometimes be good. In the grand scheme of things, it probably won’t.”

“Frankly, the way things are going right now is less than stale. Just because we’re not having some sort of calamity just yet doesn’t mean Equestria is some…” The Unicorn mumbled, searching for words. “...bastion of normality. It just isn’t. On a grand scale, it may all look placid, and I don’t blame you. But some things I deal with when it comes to the school, the research and the Canterlot elites, it’s just ridiculous.”

“Of course it is. There’s a deeper level of chaos to most anything we do,” Celesia said quietly. “A blessing and a curse.”

“Personally, I think that the particular brand of chaos we have here in Canterlot is not… the best,” Aster admitted. “Most Court Wizard business that’s public in any way is usually relegated to me. And, well… this helper of yours, I’m sure she lets you know how things are like among these ponies.”

The alicorn rolled her eyes silently and ate more of her sandwich.

“You know, I think I’ve had enough to drink…” he begun, before having to stifle a hiccup.

“I do think we got a little carried away. I should be lowering the sun shortly to account for my morning mishap, just as well.”

“Oh.” Aster lowered his head, which he then slowly, tensely shook. “Well, yes. I suppose. I will need to sober myself up before checking in with Diamond, too. Sorting out tons of papers he’s no doubt already produced, ones that the fate of the world will probably depend upon no less - that is probably not a task I’m well suited to… not in this condition.”

“On the bright side, unless he lied to me and did not classify the lich ascension spell as part of our necromancy ban, you’ll be in his place eventually. That should be more exciting.”

The periwinkle stallion breathed in deep and stared into the distance. After a few seconds of so doing, he pressed his snout hard against the table. Celestia raised an eyebrow and began to stretch out a hoof to help, in case he needed in, but he spoke up:

“Diamond Eye. What an act to follow. Maybe it’s just the alcohol… but… ugh.” He grumbled. “I’ll just say it, Princess. I don’t want to be Court Wizard.”

“...oh?..”

“All this was exciting for the first few years. By now, though… I don’t think this is the right thing for me. My talent is in… it’s in making things, hm… better? The blooming flower, it is a metaphor, as I said. I teach children, and, well, I refine his papers too.” Aster raised his head and looked to the side, catching the glimpse of the Canterlot skyline. “But this—” he said, pointing a hoof in the city’s direction, “—this is stifling me. I suppose I’ll just break it in now. Once the classes I currently teach are graduating, I’ll be handing in my resignation, for both my posts. No more Master Aster.”

“I can understand that. I shouldn’t stop you. There’s a reason I need her to get by,” Celestia said calmly. “Canterlot is silly, outrageous, and fairly vicious. Maybe it’ll change with time… but thus far it hasn’t. Where would you go?”

“Heh.” Aster sighed, looking longingly at the evening sky. “I suppose I’ll share my retirement plan with you, Princess. There’s this really nice place just nearby. It’s a small town, a village, really. It’s called Ponyville. Not the… most promising name, but I assure you, it’s practically idyllic. I’ll just go there teach the local kids, or open a library, or something of that sort. Maybe both, if I find myself unable to do one thing at a time after years of juggling all of this.”

“Oh, I do know of that place. About five years ago, I granted it to some local apple farmers. Hardly surprised to hear it’s progressed so well, I always saw potential in it. Never did check on it again, though…” Celestia pondered, rubbing her chin. “Maybe if we figure out how Osma’s shapeshifting works, I’ll leave her to rule for a week and go have a vacation there. I do like smaller towns where little happens.”

“Exactly,” Aster replied gleefully, raising a hoof in the air. “It’s a resort in all but name for the likes of us. It’s just… untainted, you know? I could settle down in there. You probably shouldn’t, though.” He chuckled and sighed, clearing his throat. “Not after last time she was left to reign for more than two days. I’m not sure what was worse, her speech at the fundraiser or the fact everyone liked it.”

“Oh. You’ve built it all up, and now you crash it down.” The mare rolled her eyes and groaned with some playfulness. “Great, I’ll be fixated upon it now. And I’ll know I can’t, because indeed, if Osma’s left to rule for too long, we may not even need Discord to break out - it’ll be total chaos.”

“You’re right, there. The likes of her, she’d probably open his containment area for school trip excursions. As if it’s not difficult enough to maintain!” The Unicorn scoffed and shook his head. “Though, if it makes you feel any better, Ponyville is, in fact, bordering the Everfree Forest,” Aster replied with a shrug.

This time, it was Celestia’s turn to press her snout deep into the table and sigh.

“Of course it is. We should both be going.”

“But WHY??? Why, why, why, why, WHY?!” Osmosis cried, bouncing in utter frustration on their bed.

“Because, Osma,” Celestia replied flatly. She had a series of generous yawns, which masked the shapshifter’s outcry, which was severe enough that she was changing colors sporadically.

“Not an answer! No! I refuse! Refuse! Reject!” she shouted and growled. “Explain! Explain! Explaaaaaain!!!” she hollered, switching violently between random imposing voices.

“Shush. Stop being a big, disturbing, creepy baby. If this is your reaction to me not making love to anyone tonight, then we just can’t do any business,” the Princess told her, maintaining the same tone of voice. The mare combed through her aetherial mane, a task typically left for Osma, who was currently unwilling.

“Nnrrrghh! This is just to make me suffer, isn’t it?! You’re a sadist! They call ponies like you sadists, I’ll have you know! Because you don’t know anything about—”

Princess Celestia’s beanbag seat slid over to the insectoid mare, pulled along by the alicorn’s own magic, and her white hoof stuck itself squarely into the protesting equine’s mouth just as she began to scream again.

“I’m not a sadist, you’re just paranoid. Yes, I know, you wanted me to fall in love with Gladeshade. He was pretty, I admit. But that is simply not how it works.” She finished with the combing and levitated over a cup of coffee. Raising an eyebrow, she continued before the hoof-gagged mare decided to start screaming telepathically. “And yes, I know, you would have liked Aster as well. I’m not that dense, Osma. He would not have worked out either. He simply wouldn’t have.”

The white mare grumbled as her body double began to chew on her hoof in defiance, and brought over a newspaper to smack her on the head repeatedly. Osmosis went from growling to hissing and whimpering aggressively.

“He’s a good stallion, I’ve known him for some time, but the thought of having him as my partner just doesn’t work out for me. That is the simple truth. On top of that, he told me, in an unrelated conversation…” She had to stop and give her another smack upon feeling extremely judgemental eyes piercing through her hide. “...ahem. He told me that he doesn’t care for the high society kerfuffles all too much. And however romantic you think long distance relationships between royalty and a subject are, Osma, I will assure you that the real logicstics of the matter are less than fantastic.”

“Hmpflhflhfhfplhpfl!” The gagged mare’s tongue emerged, lapping viciously at the obstructive exremity, which finally made it retract. Celestia shivered and scrunched her mouth, squinting at her unruly companion. “Excuses, you are made of excuses, ex-cu-seees! PERFECT THEY WERE BOTH PERFECT, AAAAHHHH!!!”

“Osma, that’s not—”

“Aster fit you so well, buargh! He could teach your stupid protege and stuff! You’ll have to learn to deal with kids now!” she continued unabated. “And I tried to hard to hook you and Gladeshade up! I moved mountains! I lied, stole, cheated! And you have NO IDEA how good he was in bed!!!”

There was a long, awkward silence as the Princess stared blankly at the shapeshifter, who hissed and chittered, aiming her own blank gem-like eyes at the befuddled pony sovereign. The double whammy of her having raised a good point to be filed away for later reference and her having said what she just said, it hit rather hard.

“...what? Ah. I was too busy screaming at you to mention,” Osma said, still glaring at her employer. “He was so into you that when that whole thing went down, tons of you dolls popped out of him. I disposed of them as fast as I could after he was carried off into the hospital, but then I had to rush back to keep track of him so he didn’t do anything stupid.”

“...” Celestia opened her mouth multiple times, but never decided on what to even say.

“Aaand sooo I turned into that nurse I saw in that book once, and then—”

“...Osma… just... I…” The Princess covered her face up with her hooves and slowly tumbled off the beanbag. “... how… no. Just… I mean… nevermind… where - oh heavens I’m afraid to ask - where did you put the dolls?”

“In our closet.”

“Arm the dream sphere for the night,” Celestia said in a droll monotone, her words muffled by her own hooves. “Add the Meadowshines to our roster of potentials in the morning. And give me some love.”

Osmosis hacked and sputtered, jaw dropping open, transparent wings fluttering in agitation.

“Oh, why you, after, after, after THIS?! And you’re so BLATANT!” she whisper-screamed in indignation.

“It’s not for—”

“I’m done! You sleep on the floor today! Good night!”

Princess Celestia had to teleport herself onto the bed that night, and they only laid themselves to rest when it was clear neither was outwrestling the other. In fairness, Osma was not using all her strength, and Celestia cheated by biting on her head nubs. In any case, the additional sleep either was going to get from the premature sunset was cut in about half.