Author's Note

I never though the ending of this chapter would happen in any capacity in my stories, but lo and behold, it did. I cannot tell whether I think it's a good thing or not.

Enjoy.

Musings

Mesma held him for a long time as he cried. Blueblood dimly realized that the last time he had let any pony comfort him over anything at all had been when he was four after his Mother died, and Auntie Celly had given him a hug. When the tears dammed, Mesma pulled back. “I think you’ve done enough for the day.” She said, gently. She let him dry his tears and calm down a few minutes before she removed his diaper. Blueblood looked toward Brownie, and she caught onto the meaning of the look. “He’ll be here tomorrow.” She assured him. Blueblood left there that day deep in thought.

He wandered the corridors until he reached his home. To his surprise, Father was there. He usually did not get home for another four hours. He gave Blueblood an appraising look. “Mule.” He said.

“Hello, Father.” Blueblood greeted. The familiar chill ran up his spine at the sight of him. Despite being a nobleman, his Father’s public face was very different from his private one. At home, Blueblood was more of a nuisance than a son, and was often the subject of tirades, that included physical abuse that was easily covered up with magic. Bruises, broken bones, falls down the stairs. All of it could be covered up instantaneously. And should any of the staff at the house see, Father had enough hush money to keep them quiet. If that didn’t work, the threat of force was always in his pocket.

“Princess Celestia tells me you have been assigned a task, and that you are not to divulge it with me, correct?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Father stood up, went over to him, and he had to make a conscious effort not to let fear show in his eyes or body. “Let me make one thing absolutely clear: Princess Celestia may be Princess of this land, but in this house, I am king. Should you fail to perform this task to my standards, whatever it may be, you will be dealt with severely. A Prince bears his title at all times, and I expect you to act as such, lest you bring more shame upon our name than you already did the moment you were born. Am I clear?”

Blueblood fought the urge to swallow. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.” Said Father, with a wave of his hoof. Blueblood was grateful for the time to be alone. When he got to his room, he mulled over the events of the day for hours on end, forgetting even to eat. His father’s words clashed in his head, and he realized how ridiculous he had acted. Crying, napping, cuddling a stuffed animal- what was he, Two? He realized fairly quickly that he was not meeting his father’s standards, and much as he wanted to please his aunt, Father was much more terrifying. It was in that moment that he decided that he would behave like the prince he had been raised to be. No more crying, no more hugs, no more weakness. Like it should have been all along.

Mesma, in the interim, gave a favorable report to the Princess before she went home for the day, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

When the next day came, Mesma had been hopeful for a good day with Blueblood. He had made quite a bit of progress that first day, and she hoped to expand upon that today. Unfortunately the saying one step forward, two steps back had come into play, because when he came to the room, his nose was high in the air, and he was scoffing constantly.

Mesma had sighed and shut the door.

That day had to have been the most frustrating day of her life- worse than when she was trying to put Strong Shield on the bottle and he cried for hours straight. Blueblood resisted every gesture she made- he would not lay down for his diapering, he would not accept Brownie to cuddle, he would spit out a pacifier, and he would not hold still. Her patience was at it’s limit. She was trying her best to not use her talent in this situation, but she was running out of ideas. Even when she tried time out, he just walked away. Her frustration was mounting, building to epic proportions, and there came a point where she did not know what to do anymore.

And then there came the comment. One so cold and scathing, that upon further reflection, should have clued her in that something was wrong. But at the time she had been so emotionally entangled that she could not think straight.

After another failed attempt at time out, he had said to her, “What kind of a parent can’t even tell when to give up?”

She had backed away and frozen for a moment. The horrific memories of losing her first child and her past mistakes with Thunderlane filling her mind. Her present situation with her son hadn’t mattered at that point, because her mind was so enveloped with the past that she could not see beyond it. The past was her most sensitive spot, and he had hit on it, whether unknowingly or knowingly, she did not know. At that point, she did not care. In hindsight, she had realized it was silly to associate those events with that statement, but at that time, so involved with her emotions, she could not think clearly. Rational thought was lost for her, but she did not use her gift. At least, not yet. She had drilled it into her head in the time before she had began this task that she would not force him to do anything against his will, or the boundaries the Princess had helped her set. So she had tried a different tactic, one she had never anticipated to use. What she did shocked him and shocked herself, because it was something that she had sworn she would never do to any child, adult foal or not. At that point, morals had gone out the window, and she was falling into instinct by then. The only moral compass she was following was that of a grieving parent, who would not let the memory of her child be desecrated.

She dragged Blueblood over to the Rocking Chair, settled him down in her lap, and gave him a spanking.