Chapters Author's Note
Pretty sure this was not the "One Little Slip" Sequel you guys were expecting. Sorry about that! The potential of another sequel starring Thunderlane is absolutely open, but this plot bunny just sort of hit me out of the blue and I had to write it down. I've been wanting to do a story with Blueblood for some time now, and this was the perfect chance. Hopefully he'll undergo some good behavior changes, and Mesma is definitely on the side of good this time around, and can further it here.
I hope you guys enjoy it!
Royal Requests
Mesma had come a long way in her time since being sentenced to community service by Princess Celestia.
She had fulfilled her dream of becoming a mother, and was now a proud Mommy to a beautiful baby boy she had adopted. She had spent her time helping addicted foals stabilize in hospitals, and hadn’t used her special talent for anything malevolent since her triumphant debut in Motherhood. She hadn’t felt the need. Her greatest wish had been fulfilled, in the most unexpected way. No pony on earth, in the afterlife, or otherwise, had more than she did now. A rewarding career, a beautiful son, and blossoming friendships, one of which was between herself and Princess Celestia.
Princess Celestia had checked in with her often while she had been serving her community service, but even after it ended, they had tea once in a while. Sometimes Mesma wondered if that was because the Princess harbored some guilt for her hoof in her troubles, but she thought more of the time that she and the Princess were developing a bond. So she wasn’t at all surprised when she got a letter from the Princess asking her to have tea on her day off.
She arrived in a small tea room in Canterlot Castle, where the Princess was pouring tea for them. Earl Grey, Mesma’s favorite. A tray of scones- vanilla bean as it appeared, lay between the two china cups on a platter. The Princess looked up to her and smiled.
“Mesma, please come in, and have a seat.” The Princess offered.
Mesma nodded. “Thank you, Princess. How have you been since our last visit?”
“I’ve been well. Coordinating a delegation with diplomats from Saddle Arabia this past week.”
“That sounds intriguing.”
“It’s always interesting to see whom will be around the table. How have you been, Mesma?”
“I’m doing great. The addicted foal I have been working with was finally approved to be taken to a family, free of all ailments. It was wonderful.”
Celestia grinned. “That is wonderful. And your son?”
Mesma grinned right back at her. “My Strong Shield is growing so fast. He’s almost sitting up on his own now.”
The light in Celestia’s eyes brightened. “How fantastic. I’m very happy to hear that!”
Mesma bowed her head slightly in gratitude. “Thank you very much. He’s such a smart little boy.”
“I’m sure he is.” She said. Mesma wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard an odd tinge of regret in her majesty’s voice. Mesma was beginning to suspect that the Princess had brought her here for more than just a friendly tea.
They talked a few minutes more, about inconsequential things, before lapsing into a short silence. For Mesma it appeared to be a nervous one for her liege.
“Mesma, I have a confession to make.” Said Celestia.
“I’m guessing this wasn’t just a friendly visit?”
Celestia looked about as sheepish as a royal could look, which wasn’t much at all, but the fact that it had happened was enough to stun Mesma. “You would be correct. I’d like to ask you for a favor, but you might not be comfortable with what I am asking of you. I want you to know that you can decline at any time.” She said.
“Alright.” Said Mesma slowly. “Tell me what it is.”
“Do you recall my nephew, Prince Blueblood?”
The image of a white stallion with flowing honey colored locks appeared in her mind. “Yes, I do.”
“I am afraid my nephew has a very bad… attitude problem.” She said carefully. “I’ve had reports from the castle servants about his behavior, and it is simply unacceptable, not just for royalty to behave that way, but for anypony. He’s flipped a tray of tea onto a maid when it was not to his specifications, stomped on plenty of hooves, has shown a total disregard for the hard work of his personal staff. By all accounts, he has turned into a pony that I am not proud to call my nephew, and I cannot stand to see what he has become. He used to be so energetic and sweet when he was a colt, and I don’t know how he has turned into what he is now.”
Mesma nodded carefully. “I can understand that but… What does this have to do with me, Princess?”
“I do not like to bring up the past if it can be helped, but… Do you remember what you did for Thunderlane?”
Mesma winced at the reminder of trying to make the grown stallion into her foal, but she nodded anyway. “I do.”
“I was hoping you might use your skills to do a lesser version of that for my nephew.”
Mesma’s jaw dropped. “You want me to… I’m sorry, what?”
“My goal is to instill humility and… re-raise him in essence, to shape him into a good pony. But without the… complete infantilization aspect.”
“I-“ Mesma tried to find something to say, but she could find nothing for a long time. “I don’t know what to say.” She admitted. “I’m flattered that you’re asking me this but… I don’t think I can do that. I can’t control some pony that way again. Now that I have my son, I cannot imagine somepony doing that to him, and likewise I could not do it to somepony else.”
“I understand the magnitude of what I am asking you to do, and I appreciate how difficult it would be for you. But I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you would be the one to change him. I think that there is much my nephew has to learn, and love that he needs to be given. I want to give him the time he deserves, but with everything going on at this point, I cannot. I need some pony I trust to help turn him into a true prince. I will set limitations on how far you may go with him, should you feel you need them. But I truly believe you will not need that. You can do this. I believe in you.”
“You do?”
Celestia smiled and nodded. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could do it.” She affirmed.
Mesma’s mind surged with possibilities of what might go wrong, but the statement I believe in you blocked out any self doubt. Slowly, she began to nod.
“Alright. I’ll do it. When should I start?”
Author's Note
I had way too much fun with this. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
A Royal Reveal
A few days later, Prince Blueblood walked through the halls of Canterlot’s Palace, nose turned upward. He was on a way to a meeting with his Aunt, and although he was not against seeing her, he was opposed to the incompetent servants walking the halls. Ponies who stammered and stuttered when he walked past, who were clumsy and bumped into him. Honestly, he could not respect such riff-raff. He was a Prince, after all. He deserved the utmost respect for his title.
Mercifully, the servants showed marginal intelligence today, and had cleared the hallway. He smiled, thinking that perhaps they had finally gotten it through their thick skulls that he was to be undisturbed. The only ones in the hallway now were the guards stationed outside the Throne Room. They let him through, and Celestia smiled when she saw him, and asked her guards to give the two of them some privacy. The guards complied, moving to join their fellow guardponies in the hall. When the sounds of doors closing echoed through the now guardponiless room, Celestia went to Blueblood.
“Good day, nephew.”
Blueblood bowed to her. “Good day, Princess. You called for me?”
“Yes. I have something I wish for you to do. A task if you will.”
Blueblood nodded. “Of course, your majesty. I will do whatever you ask of me.”
Celestia smiled. “I’m pleased to hear that. But first, allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine.” She said. She gestured to the pony who waited at the right side of the throne. A white mare with hot pink and white long hair, and pink eyes, along with a spiral cutie mark made out of hearts. She wore a kind smile that seemed… genuine. Far more genuine than one anypony had given him in a long time. It took him off guard.
“Good day, Prince Blueblood. It’s such a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mesma.” She said, offering him her hoof. He noticed that it was finely manicured, unlike the servants of this castle. Well, at least she wasn’t terrible about keeping herself groomed. He respected that. Reluctantly, he shook her hoof, and she gave him a smile that made him feel odd.
“Mesma will be overseeing what I ask of you. I expect you to take her orders as seriously as you would my own. Should any trouble arise on your part, and be assured that should it I will be informed of such, I will take action myself. You are to show her the utmost respect for her, and to treat her as you would me. Am I understood?”
Blueblood was confused now, but nodded. “Yes, Princess.”
“Mesma will be taking you to a special room for your task. I want to make one thing absolutely clear to you. In that room, your title holds no power. She is the pony in charge, and she will be reporting to me about how well you do in your task. I expect you will excel at it in time.”
“I assure you, Princess, I will excel immediately.”
Celestia smiled. “I am glad to hear it. You and Mesma will be working on this task for one hour per day at the minimum. You will stay for as long as she decides, and leave when she deems you ready. Your other engagements or appearances will be cancelled, postponed, or rearranged to fit this schedule.”
“Very well.” Blueblood conceded, although he was more than a little irritated at that prospect.
Celestia smiled at his compliance, though she suspected it was more for her benefit than it was him actually wanting to do so. She hoped that in time, that would change. “Excellent.” She turned to Mesma. “I will leave him in your capable hooves.”
Mesma nodded. “Thank you, Princess.”
Celestia turned to Blueblood. “Your task will begin now.” She looked to Mesma. “Will you please show my nephew to his room?”
“Of course.” She said.
Mesma went down the steps to Blueblood. “Follow me.” She said. Albeit irritatedly, he did as she asked, remembering his Aunt’s words.
Mesma led him to a corridor of the castle that was never used. The rooms inside had not been used for years, if he could recall correctly. She stopped at a door at the end of the hall, and opened it, letting him go inside. He was gobsmacked at what he saw.
Inside was a nursery, with furniture fit for a foal that was sized to fit a grown pony. Alarm bells rang in his head, and he tried to turn back, but before he could, Mesma had closed the door. He knew he would not be allowed to leave because this was under his aunt’s orders, so he took a look around.
It was painted a cheery yellow, with a border of suns and moons. There was a large crib with a mobile hanging above it on the wall the door was on, full of blankets and stuffed animals. Directly in front of the end of it was a changing table. It was stocked full of diapers, pull ups, training pants, and diapering supplies like foal powder and rash cream. There was also a stash of pacifiers underneath. The closet on the same wall was full of dress up clothes, including sailor suits, cowpony clothes, and a feathered headdress. There were some other clothes more suited to regular use, like Hoofie Pajamas and onesies. The next wall, the one adjacent to Blueblood on his right, held a bookshelf full of children’s books and a rocking chair. The wall opposite him held a dresser that he could only assume was full of foal clothes. There was a nightlight on top, along with a bottle warmer. There was a mini fridge on that wall too, and when he opened it he saw it was full of bottles of milk. The nipples were atop the fridge. The wall to his right had a toy box resting against it, and artwork on the walls- simple things like a boat on the ocean, a sunflower, a full moon. In the center of the room was a playpen full of stuffed animals.
“I… What?” He asked.
He turned to Mesma, who in his time surveying the room had moved and pulled out a diaper with a large print of Celestia’s sun on the back. She put it on the changing table.
“This is your task, Blueblood. To learn humility, and to learn what it is to be loved and cared for so that hopefully you can extend that to others. Now, hop up, please, and we can begin.”
Author's Note
Three chapters at once because this thing doesn't want to stop writing itself. Maybe I'll even hit four before I go to bed. Who knows?
I enjoyed this. I hope you do too.
The Royal Rules
Blueblood was stunned into silence. Longer than he had been in such a long time. His mouth was agape at her words, and he struggled to find his own.
“This is… for me?” He said slowly.
Mesma nodded patiently. “Yes, it is. A lot to take in, I imagine.”
Blueblood turned to her, indignant. “A prince does not-“
“Ah, ah, ah.” She interrupted him before he could get further with his statement. “You are not a prince in here. Your aunt has told you that, and I will likely have to tell you that again, but your title holds no power in this room. Your aunt has requested this task of me, and I will not let her down. I do not want to use my talent on you in this room, and I am hopeful that I will not have to and that you will show me respect because of your aunt’s wishes. But should the need arise, I have her permission to do so. Not to any extreme measure, but enough to gain compliance. I do not want to do that, and I don’t think I should have to. Because you respect your aunt enough to oblige her orders, and her orders were that I am in charge here, and will decide what you need. Now, are you going to go against her, or will you behave yourself like she has asked?” Mesma’s tone was stern, like a mother disciplining a young child, and he found it odd. It was suitable to the room, certainly, but what was odd was that it made him feel like somepony cared. He had not felt that way in a very long time. Wordlessly, he did as he was asked and got onto the changing table.
Mesma smiled at him and began changing him into a diaper, much to his consternation and humiliation. “Thank you for making a good choice.” She praised him. She got the diaper on him with none of the resistance she had anticipated. She suspected him to be deep in thought about something. When the change was finished she took a step back. “You can get up now.”
Blueblood did, and found it difficult to do so, the bulk between his legs making it very difficult, as he was not accustomed to it. Shakily, he got down onto his hooves.
Mesma nodded her head. “Well done. Now, in this room, there are rules. I expect you to follow them. Should you misbehave, there will be a system in place for that. The first time you will be asked to stop the behavior. The second time, you will get a warning. The third time, you will be put in time out. You will not be permitted to use a regular toilet in here. You must use a training potty, or a diaper. As you improve in your behavior, which I hope you will, you will be allowed more options like a pull up or training pants, as you move forward. The option of the training potty will be removed after three sessions in here until you are offered it again of my accord. However, even if you use it during those three sessions, you will still be required to have a diaper on the rest of the time. Finally, you will be treated in here as if you are a foal. I know you have figured it out by now, but I felt it needed to be said again. Am I understood?”
Blueblood managed a nod, but his mind was full of questions. “Miss?”
“Mesma.” She corrected.
“Mesma. Will any other ponies be coming here to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence because he could not imagine why they might be coming here.
Mesma looked him right in the eye. “What goes on here is between you, me, and your aunt. Nopony else will be in this room besides us. No other ponies can open this room except your aunt and myself. She saw to that.”
“And my father?” The question popped out without his permission.
“Your father is not aware of any of this. He was simply told that Celestia had given you an important task, and that you were not to discuss it with anypony.” She assured him.
He breathed a little easier after that. He could only imagine what his father would do were he to find out about this. “What about my duties?”
“The only duty you have in here is to be kind and humble. The rest does not matter here. Rest assured that your aunt has taken care of everything.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Why, out of all the ponies my Aunt could have selected for this task, did she choose you?”
Mesma smiled a little. “That’s a question I am still trying to answer myself. I think part of it was that I own a store that sells supplies like this, so it would have been easier for me to answer your questions, should they arise. The other part… Maybe she wanted to give me a chance to show that I am a different pony than I was before and make up for some past mistakes.”
Blueblood focused on the first part of the statement. “You… Own a store that sells supplies like this?”
“Indeed I do. In Las Pegasus. Business is good right now.”
“There’s a market for that?”
“More than you’d think.”
Blueblood blinked in his surprise. It was oddly comforting to think that he might not be the first pony in this kind of room, though he was probably the first to be in this predicament. Mesma decided to move on.
“That’s enough questions for now.” She said, not wanting to waste any more time than was actually needed. “You can ask your aunt more about that later, or me should you find me on the grounds outside of here. For now, let us begin our day. Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?”
“When you’re a foal in here, I’ll be calling you Bluey Bear.”
Author's Note
This was oddly emotional, and I really did not plan for that to happen initially. Well, stories have a mind of their own I guess.
Enjoy!
Baby Steps
Blueblood blinked at hearing the nickname. He hadn’t been called such a thing since before his mother had died. His mother, rest her soul, had died when he was four of a small bleed in her brain that had not been detected in time. His memories of her were scant and few, but he could remember her calling him that as a child. His mouth dried up at the thought of her voice.
Mesma had learned of this from Celestia. The Prince’s aunt had been forthcoming to her about things he had enjoyed as a foal and as a colt at Mesma’s request. She had shared with her favorite toy selections, books, and specifically, that nickname. It had been Celestia’s idea for her to call him that, in the hope that hearing it would stir awake the child inside of him. Mesma had been very hesitant at first, feeling that that had been overstepping the line between Blueblood and his deceased mother, but Celestia had felt it important, a good step in the right direction, to have him called that. She hoped, she had told Mesma, it would make him think about how she would want him to behave. Mesma had reluctantly agreed. In this space it was easier to come to terms with, but she still did not feel completely comfortable with it.
Mesma had gone over to the changing table in that interim, pulling out a pacifier for her charge. When she looked over at Blueblood, Bluey Bear now, He was over at the playpen, staring at some of the toys inside. Mesma went over to him.
“See anything you like?” She asked.
He pulled a dingy stuffed dog toy from the playpen with his magic. “Is this…?”
Mesma nodded. “Your dog, Brownie. He was the first stuffed animal your mother ever gave you, correct?”
Blueblood managed a nod. “I remember now. She said she gave him to me a few days after I was born, and said that I wouldn’t sleep without him as a foal. She used to tuck me into bed to sleep with him every night before…” He couldn’t finish that sentence. “What is he doing here?”
“According to your aunt your father removed most of your toys after your mother passed away, but your aunt managed to save some of them, and this was one of the ones she saved. She said you gave him to her one night to sleep with when you were younger because you were afraid your Daddy would make him leave. So you hid him in your room until you saw your aunt. She kept him for you this whole time.”
Blueblood looked over to her. “She… Kept him?” He unconsciously pulled the dog to his chest.
“She did. She knew how much he meant to you, and she never forgot that. I think she never gave him to you before because she knew your father would get rid of him and because you never asked about him after a time. According to her, that is.”
“And he’s here?”
“Well of course. You never leave a foal without their favorite toys to play with. I asked her to find any toys of yours she still had. I have copies of books you liked as a foal, and snacks to suit your taste. You don’t take care of any child without knowing what they like. That would be cruel.”
That gave Blueblood much to ponder. If this was a punishment, as he had once thought it to be considering all the rules and structure that seemed designed to humiliate him, why give him this? A life ring in raging waters. It made him think.
Mesma gentled her tone as she spoke again, not wanting to startle him. “You can play with him, you know. I think he would like that. He’s probably missed you quite a bit.”
Blueblood stared down at the stuffed dog, his chocolate brown eyes that held so many memories. He could still remember what he imagined the dog sounding like when he spoke to the young prince. “I… missed him.” He said.
“If you don’t want to play right now, he could always accompany you while I read you a story.” Mesma suggested.
Blueblood looked up at her. “A… Story?”
Mesma nodded. “Yes. Like I said, I have copies of your favorite books from your foalhood in here.”
Blueblood weighed his options. He could play, but that would be humiliating. He could be read a story, but that would be odd. The latter seemed like a better option. He could have time to think.
“Can you read to me?” He asked.
She nodded and smiled. “Of course.”
When he tried to walk forward to the shelf, though, he waddled as the diaper pushed his legs apart. It took some getting used to, but he managed. He looked through the shelf at the colorful books and picked out one that looked familiar. The three bears. When he turned to Mesma, she was sitting in the rocking chair, and she beckoned him over with a wave of the hoof. He looked at her, uncertain.
“Foals sit in laps for story time.” She explained. He nodded, and awkwardly climbed into her lap. He made himself comfortable, and she began rubbing his back soothingly, handing him a pacifier before she started to read. This too plucked a string in his memory. His mother used to do this for him when she read to him before bed. He thought idly that he hadn’t thought of her this much in such a long time. He focused on the story, for the most part. Occasionally he would cuddle his stuffed companion, but mostly he listened. He looked down at the pacifier in his hoof. He knew at this point he was expected to use it. Much as he wanted to fight that, he didn’t see what good it would do. His aunt had made her orders clear, and Mesma had shown him surprising compassion since he was in here. Besides, he was already in a nursery, cuddling a stuffed animal in another pony’s lap. What dignity was there left to lose? So, he popped in the soother and took a few tentative suckles.
It tasted and felt odd, but it was soothing in it’s own way. A steady rhythm of suckling gave him something to focus on. He was listening to the story still, but now he had something to occupy him instead of sitting idly, something he did not particularly enjoy when it came to a situation like this. Suddenly though, he was hit with a wave of exhaustion. The downside of being still was that that meant your exhaustion could catch up with you when you weren’t actively outrunning it. He had spent many nights that week up late, studying diplomacy and discourse between kingdoms. Unconsciously, he leaned his head against her shoulder, mostly because it was blocking the chair backing. She wasn’t unaware of this and smiled. When she said something to him, he didn’t hear right away.
“What?” He asked after pulling the pacifier from his mouth and blushing a shade of puce.
“I said do you want to take a nap?”
“I haven’t done that since I was a colt.”
“Well, there’s no time like the present.” She said.
“I can… nap here?” He asked.
“Well of course. Foals take naps, you know.”
“I… Oh. Right. Okay.” He was unsure of how to process all of this, and he needed to think straight. He couldn’t do that while tired.
He got off of her lap, and went to the crib, and she did too. She let down the side and he got in. It was very comfortable, he decided. A soft mattress, nice blankets, nothing scratchy or itchy. She tucked him in, putting his pacifier near him and looking at him with a tenderness he couldn’t understand or fathom. She gave his face a gentle stroke and it surprised him enough to momentarily wake him.
“Sleep tight, Bluey Bear.” She whispered.
“G-Goodnight.” He stammered. She posted herself in the rocking chair and he pulled Brownie close to him as he tried to process what had just happened. But before he could do such a thing, he was asleep.
Author's Note
Alrighty, I think this chapter will wrap up a set for another twelve hours or so in hopes that I can get some sleep. Prepare for feels on all fronts.
Enjoy!
Wake
For the first time in many years, Blueblood dreamed.
Sleep for him was typically an inky black void of nothingness. He did not have wild adventures in his sleep, or see colors even. Sleep was just a blacking out between night and morning. Nothing more. But today, he did dream. More specifically, he remembered. He saw his mother’s face clearly for the first time in so many years. He could hear the sound of her voice like she was right by him. He saw her dazzling smile. He hadn’t wanted to stay asleep at any point in his life he could remember, but that day, he could have slept forever. When the dream inevitably faded from his consciousness, and he woke, his eyes twitched open, and he took in his surroundings. In that twilight state of not being awake but neither being asleep, he thought for a fleeting moment he was still a child waiting for his Mother to come and get him after a nap.
And then, it all flooded back. Where he was, what he was doing here, and what he was wearing. Shame bubbled up inside of him, and anger too. He was angry that for one moment he could have possibly forgotten that Mommy was-
His eyes popped open completely as he realized the term in which he had just thought his mother, and another memory came. He had called her Mommy until he was around six years old. At that point, his father had told him to refer to her as his Mother. At the time, he hadn’t understood why. He did now. It was unbecoming of a prince to be so attached to anypony. It was around that time he had stopped calling Celestia “Auntie” as well, and was made to refer to her as “Princess” or “Your Majesty”, “Your Highness” or “My Liege”. All of it had been for the sake of appearances.
There was no point to clinging to appearances now. His diaper was proof of that.
Mesma came over to the crib and let down the side. “Good nap?” She asked.
Blueblood nodded, but was clearly deep in thought.
Mesma sat down by the open crib, sensing that he wasn’t going to move yet. “Anything on your mind you want to talk about?” She asked him.
He looked at her for a moment, confused. “I thought that this…” He trailed off.
She seemed to understand where he was going with that. “Blueblood, this place is supposed to be a safe space. You can talk about whatever you want here, and be anypony you want here as long as you’re kind. You’re supposed to be treated like a foal here, and foals learn to communicate their feelings. Talking is just as important as the actual treatment itself.”
He considered her words, weighed them for a long time. Then, he spoke. “I dreamed of her.”
Mesma needed no clarification of who “her” was. “I see. How did it make you feel?”
“I’m… not sure.” He said. His feelings were a jumbled up mess and he was confused about why he was thinking about her so much in the first place. He didn’t like feeling like he was caught in his emotions. All his life he had been taught that emotions were weakness, and that were he to show them, he would be vulnerable, something a prince should never be. He was angry and confused and sad and worried and uncertain and stressed, so many things all at once, and it was making his head spin.
Mesma nodded. “It can be hard to figure out. I’m sure you have a lot of emotions attached to that.”
“Yes.” Blueblood said distractedly. He was straining to keep his emotions at bay. Not audibly, but internally.
Now a mother herself, Mesma saw his internal conflict and put a hoof on his shoulder, to which he looked up at her.
“It’s okay, you know. To cry for her. It’s okay to miss somepony.”
“It’s not. It’s not what Prince’s are supposed to do. We are supposed to be the stronghold on which Everypony relies. We are supposed to be unshakable. How in Equestria can I be that if I break down over somepony I can barely remember anymore?” He asked.
“You’re not a prince in here, Bluey Bear. And she wasn’t just anypony, she was your Mommy. Children come into this world programmed to love their parents. Just because you do not remember much of her does not mean that you don’t love her. It’s as much a part of you as your name. She wouldn’t want you to hold this in. She would want you to feel better. That’s what Mommies do.” Her voice was so gentle and tender as she rubbed his shoulder.
They were the words he needed to hear. The walls he’d built between him and his pent up and repressed emotions fell, and he decided he was finally free to feel.
Suddenly, some invisible dam began to break. He sensed it but wasn't quick enough to stop it. Dozens of emotions were rushing past him at a hundred miles per hour, so quickly that he couldn't stop them or even glimpse their name. His head was spinning at all of these feelings filled him, and he quickly felt like he was going to drown. This was perhaps confirmed in what may have been a moment of insanity for him when he swore he felt water on his hoof. And when he reached out to touch it, it was real. Inadvertently he looked up at the ceiling, thinking that maybe there was a leak in the room, before he realized that was impossible, because they had checks done monthly at every wing of the castle for such problems. It took him a moment, longer than he would have liked to admit, to realize that he, the great and mighty Prince Blueblood, was crying. This was confirmed when he felt wetness sliding down his cheek.
Then, without warning, he burst into tears. Finally, he could cry.
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.
Author's Note
This was interesting.
Enjoy!
Talks
Blueblood had been shocked at that first hoof making contact with his flank. He had stopped struggling in her lap and gone limp a moment, trying to understand what was happening. Understanding hit him- quite literally- with his next spank. Then, his fight or flight instincts kicked in, and he struggled to get away. But her grasp was unshakable. The pain was intense- enough to make him squirm, and he was unwillingly flashing back to the spankings his Father had given him as a child. When it became unbearable enough that he broke down and cried, that inner child broke through to speak.
“No! No spankies! Be good! Promise!” He said.
At that point, Mesma stopped, and realized that Bluey Bear was crying. “You’ll be good?”
“Yes! Sorry! Big sorry!” He cried. Mesma turned him over in her lap and held him until he calmed down. She hushed him.
“It’s alright. It’s over now. You are forgiven.” She said. When his crying got down to occasional sniffling, he looked up at her with big watery eyes. “Can you talk to me now?” She asked.
He nodded. “Yes.” His voice was small, like he was trying to draw himself together.
Mesma looked down at him. “Can you tell me why you were acting the way you have been today?”
Bluey Bear shifted in her lap and hiccuped slightly. “I… Not supposed to.”
“Not supposed to what, sweetie?” She asked him, rubbing his back.
“Be weak.”
Mesma blinked. “Weak? How do you mean?”
“Can’t… Feel.”
Somehow, and looking back later she did not know how she did it, she was able to piece together his train of thought. “So you think having feelings are weakness?”
He nodded. He was tired, and he didn’t want to talk right now.
Mesma only needed a moment to muse on this. “Honey, having emotions is not weakness. Everypony has them. If it weren’t for emotions we wouldn’t have music or art or even science. If we did not have emotions, every one of us, how could we maintain a society? Without having feelings to guide us, we would not know right from wrong. Feelings are there to guide us, to help us. While there are times for them to be put aside in situations like a crisis, not having them at all is dangerous for your emotional health. It doesn’t make you weak to have them. It makes you equine.”
“He doesn’t!”
She blinked. “Your father?”
He nodded. “He doesn’t have them! He just has anger, really.”
“That’s not true, Bluey Bear. Everypony has emotions. Some are just better at hiding them. But Everypony has them. And not showing them doesn’t make you strong. It just makes you… hollow.”
“Hollow?”
“Hollow. If you can’t feel anything, then there is nothing inside of you, and that just means you are an empty shell. It’s okay to feel things. We’re ponies. Everypony has feelings.” She said again.
Blueblood was silent for a very long time. He didn’t know what to say. All his life he had been taught that emotions were weakness, and that he could not show them. To be told that he could was very confusing. He shut his eyes. He didn’t want to think anymore.
Mesma sat there with him, and debated on what the next course of action should be. Clearly this had triggered something inside of him and she needed to find out what that something was. She knew that if she could understand that, perhaps she could unlock why this happened in the first place. She had sworn not to do anything to make him comply with her. She would still try and uphold that promise. But if it came down to it, she might have no choice. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
“Bluey Bear?” She asked gently. He cracked one eye open.
“You said your father taught you that emotions were weakness. Can you tell me what else he’s taught you over the years?”
Blueblood went on to speak of proper silverware placement, diplomacy strategies, and things of that ilk. It wasn’t what she was trying to get at. She asked again a different way.
“Did he teach you control?”
“Of?”
“Yourself, your emotions, anything.”
“Yes.”
“I have a very important question for you, then.”
“Yes?”
“Did he teach you control by trying to control you?”
The look on his face told her more than his words could say. His pupils dilated, his body tensed, and he exuded nervousness. “W-What?”
“Bluey Bear, If something is going on there that you haven’t talked about, I think you need to. I know it can be hard, and very scary, but no pony should ever have to live in fear. This is a safe place for you. Whatever you say in here will stay between us and your Aunt. And if you don’t want me to talk to her about a particular topic, I will respect that. I am required to report to her your behavior, not your secrets.” She said.
He stared at her like she had two heads, and he tried to process those words. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to know that these things could be spoken about. But father’s voice in his head demanded silence. He clammed up, and shook his head profusely.
“Okay, okay.” She soothed, rubbing his back carefully. “I won’t make you talk about it. You talk when you’re ready to talk. Just calm down, and focus on the rocking of the chair, alright?” She asked. He nodded a little, relieved, and abided by her request.
Eventually, he relaxed. She cuddled him a bit longer, and finally spoke. “How about a snack, sweetie?” She asked. He blinked a few times, and then nodded. She helped him up, got up herself, went to the top of the fridge and pulled out a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and presented them to him. He sat down on the crib mattress nearby, and munched on a cookie, thinking about the virtues of being silent and finally speaking.
He did not like either option.
Author's Note
Enjoy!
Perspective
The sessions went on.
Mesma hadn’t talked to Blueblood about his father since that day. She wanted him to open up, she knew she had to give him time. If this might be as sensitive as she thought, she knew he wouldn’t be forthcoming about it. He would be like an oyster- never opening his shell. She would have to pry it open, to retrieve the pearl of wisdom within, but she had to do it carefully lest she hurt him.
It was toward the end of the second week when she finally caught a break.
Since coming here and learning the rules- which he had followed to the letter since his spanking- he had been careful to use the bathroom before it ever began and lasted until it was over. However, that day, his Father had woken him up with a brisk shake and told him to accompany him immediately to the castle for a meeting. He only had time to comb his mane before he was shouted at to move. Not wanting to receive punishment, he had complied. He had sat through the meeting and it had transitioned almost seamlessly into his session with Mesma. He had been there maybe twenty minutes when the need to use the bathroom began screaming at him.
He had been sitting with Brownie on the floor when the need became overwhelming. He had frozen, tensed, gone completely rigid. The rule flashing before his mind that there was no training potty to go in now, and that were this to happen he would have to use his diaper. It was only years of training on how to show no emotion that kept his cheeks from burning pink at the thought.
Much as he wanted release, his father’s voice in his head screamed at him that this was not the way to behave.
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.
There was no greater shame he could think of at this point in time than wetting himself. That might have been the fear and pain talking, because later on, he would be able to think of many others. It was taking every bit of his concentration to hold it in. Mesma, who had been making him a bottle at that time, had turned to check on him, and saw this. A part of her wanted to give him reassurance and comfort, tell him that it was okay, but some part of her knew that he had to do this on his own, and that she could comfort him after.
Finally though, he couldn’t take it anymore. A faint hiss could be heard by Mesma’s highly trained ears, and she glanced back just long enough to see his expression change from pained to shocked. She turned her back, trying to give him a sliver of privacy in what had to be a humiliating circumstance. The sound went on for a long while, before it finally stopped. Then, Mesma finally turned around.
Blueblood’s face had morphed a few times during those moments, unseen by Mesma. It had transitioned from shock to something inscrutable to horror. And in horror it had stayed. When Mesma had finally turned to face him, it made one more transformation into a mix of anger and shame. He was so angry with himself. He put a hoof to his head over and over again.
“Stupid, shameful, ugly mule!” He chided himself.
Mesma went over to him, quicker than he could blink. “Blueblood, honey, it’s okay. It’s fine.” She tried to soothe.
“What was I thinking?! So disgraceful!” He seemed to not hear her, caught in some world inside of his head.
She gripped his hoof, forcing it down so he could not hit himself again. “Enough!” It was not a shout, but it was loud enough to get him out of his head enough to look at her.
“Huh?” It wasn’t as much a question as it was a startled reply.
“Look at me, Bluey Bear. You are not shameful, disgusting, disgraceful, ugly, or any other adjective running through your head right now.”
“But-“ She put a hoof to his lips.
“No buts. You had an accident, and that’s all it is. Accidents are okay, and we clean them up and move on. They don’t stay forever, they don’t leave a permanent mark of shame on you, they just happen. They are a part of life in any capacity, and they are normal. No pony is perfect all of the time. And you are lovable, no matter what happens, no matter what mistakes you may make. Nothing and no pony can ever take that away. Do you understand?”
He looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief. “I… Really?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” She assured him. She offered him her hoof. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can talk some more.”
He nodded, suddenly aware of the cooling of his diaper. He got up from his seated position, grimacing at the sensation, and up to his hooves. His waddles were exaggerated by the now bulkier diaper, and he found it more difficult to walk. Nonetheless, he made it over to the changing table. Mesma helped him up, and he made a pinched face as he laid down and the diaper squished against him. Mesma paid it little mind, and instead set straight to work on changing him. She removed the diaper with expert precision, and Blueblood nearly shivered at the air touching him there. Mesma wiped him off thoroughly, and slid a new diaper beneath him. She powdered him carefully, lovingly, and with more tenderness than anyone had shown him in perhaps sixteen years, since before his Mother died. She taped up the diaper, and helped him off of the table, and led him to the rocking chair to be in her lap.
“Now,” Said Mesma, “Let’s talk about where you heard the words in your head.”
Author's Note
This was fun, and very dramatic. I enjoyed it. I hope you do too.
Catharsis
Blueblood was frozen. In his temper tantrum-like state of self-berating, he had unintentionally given her a key that opened the door to his mind. More specifically, his past. He shut his eyes tightly, thinking irrationally that he would open his eyes and this would all just be a dream. But opening them, he found his hopes shattered, when he stared into Mesma’s calm yet expectant eyes.
He didn’t know what to do. He was at the top of a mountain, where the world was quaking beneath him. There was no way to stay alive except to fling himself off of that peak. He was afraid to do it, but he did not have a choice now. He knew that if Mesma reported this development to his Aunt- at least the self loathing part of it- She would investigate further. He didn’t dare lie to Aunt Celestia. If he gave Mesma the truth, or at least some of it, perhaps he could stop that from happening.
“Blueblood, where did you hear the words in your head?” Asked Mesma.
“The words aren’t mine.” He managed to get out.
“I understand that, but where did you hear them?”
“From ponies around me.” He said. He did technically answer the question while tactfully dancing around a specific answer.
“Ponies ? Or just one pony?” She asked.
Were his fur not white, he might have paled. He managed something, though. He managed to get a statement out. “You know who it is.”
“Your father?” She asked.
He nodded. He did not know it at the time, but that nod, that first acknowledgement that he had been treated wrongly, would be the biggest step toward healing he ever took.
Mesma gave him a big hug, and surprisingly, a kiss on the head. In that action, he was put off-kilter. That was the most affection any pony had given him in many, many years. Not since his Mother. Even as a foal when Mother was alive, Father never showed him affection like that. But Mother had. When she pulled back and he looked at her, for maybe a second, he was staring into his Mother’s face. The second passed, and he returned to reality.
Mesma looked at the colt in her arms, because though he was absolutely a full-grown stallion, the fear in his eyes made him look like a five year old asking for the nightlight to be left on because he feared the dark. Maternal instinct made her want to wrap him up in her hooves and never let him go, telling him everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t say that yet. Not until she knew the whole story and could try and help. But if this abuse ran as deep as she thought it did, that was going to take time. Extreme abuse conditioned children to shield their parents, even though they might have wanted help. She sensed that Blueblood did want that help. He just didn’t know how to turn that faucet of words on and talk about it.
She sat there with him a very long time, stroking his hair as gently as she could. Finally, she spoke, having decided on a course of action. “Did you know that your Aunt Celestia told me stories about you as a colt?” She asked.
He cocked his head to one side. “What?”
Mesma nodded. “She told me how much you used to enjoy being read stories, how you enjoyed playing with Brownie, How you used to laugh, How you were so full of life.”
Blueblood didn’t know what to say beyond a simple “Oh.”.
“She wondered what happened to the light inside of you, that smile that made you so bright. She said that she dismissed it as you growing up, but she didn’t really buy it, because even growing up, one should never lose that light. Do you know why I am telling you this?”
Blueblood shook his head to indicate the negative.
“Your father stole that light from you. He did it with his words, with his teachings, and likely with his actions. He did not tell you what you should have heard as a foal, and since we are in this room, where you are a foal, I will tell you those things. You matter so much, Bluey Bear. Your wants, your needs, all of them, are important. You are important- and I'm not talking about in a hierarchy sense. You are important because you being here makes a difference. Your life changed mine, your mother’s, your aunts', and so many others. You are loved, you are cherished, and you are free to be yourself, here or otherwise. I think you haven't given yourself that permission. You've been so busy trying to live up to other ponies’ standards that you lost some of yourself on the way. It's your turn to take it back.”
She was quiet, letting those words marinate with him. She imagined it would be much like a ship with a hole punched into it- very slow to sink in. But this was very important, could not be understated. Changing his perception of things would have to start with an upheaval of everything he thought about himself, and then slowly progress in other areas. This was that moment of revolution for him. At least, that’s what she was hoping for him.
Blueblood listened to her words intently, and when they sunk in, he found himself shocked. No pony had ever said anything to him like that before, at least that he could remember. He had never been told that he had made a difference, that he had changed somepony, that he mattered . He had looked at Mesma, looking for some glimmer of untruth in her eyes, but instead he found nothing but sincerity and compassion. It came upon him suddenly that if some pony who was still very much stranger to him could see all of that in him, why couldn’t father? It was in that instant that he understood just how badly he had been wronged. A cry of indignation bubbled up inside of him. He wanted to scream, to cry, to buck something, but instead, the voice inside of him voiced another option.
Blueblood opened his mouth and started talking.
