Dreams this time around for Mix-Up were...strange. Nights prior had always been plagued with vague, foggy fragments that he hardly ever remembered. They always felt so distant even as he experienced them, just barely remembered. Tonight, however, he found his dreams were almost as vivid as real life, but as fantastic as any dream could be.

In one dream he found himself floating above a flower filled glade, his weightless hooves dangling idly inches above the vibrant flowers that sprung out of the grassy ground under him. The scent of a recent rainstorm tickled his nose. Whenever his hooves brushed a flower, the plant would release a small puff of pollen that twinkled like starlight. A spring-autumn sun glowed above him, warming him so gently through and through.

In another dream he was bouncing in a room made of pillows. From the floor to the ceiling that reached hundreds of meters overhead, the entire place was covered in soft, springy fabric that was as soft as it was bouncy. Hopping on the pillows made Mix-up giggly and if he tried extra hard he could bounce really high into the air. Try as he might though, he just couldn't quite reach the ceiling. Even on his highest of bounces, the top of the padded room was always far above him.

When morning came the next day, Mix-Up woke up to, strangely enough, a setting evening sun. That seemed strange, but then again, he couldn’t quite remember what time it was when he went to bed in the first place. Come to think of it, he couldn’t quite recall how long he had been here. Had it been hours? Days? Weeks? Maybe he had been here all his life.

He rubbed his eyes with a groan. There were a dozen of these questions buzzing around his head. It was exhausting just trying to keep track of them all. It felt like it would just be a waste of time trying to answer so many questions. He instead reached for his sheep plushie that sat beside him and pulled the toy into his lap. Having the toy close by made the questions less frustrating to dwell on.

Into the room walked the nanny who was rather elaborately dressed for the evening. Instead of her usual uniform of drab grays and blacks, she wore a dark green evening gown with long sleeves tightly stitched against her forelegs and a long hem line practically covering her rear hooves completely. Her mane was just as dolled up as the rest of her, but still maintained her strict and restricted style.

"Good, you're finally awake," she said in her typical blunt and straightforward tone, “come now, you mustn’t stay in bed all day. It’s almost time for the Banquet.”

“Banquet?” Mix-Up parroted back, giving his waking mind a moment to sluggishly remember.

Of course! Tonight was the night of the annual Harvest Banquet! The very banquet he had been preparing for for the past couple of weeks! Already his mind filled with half memories of dance lessons and etiquette lessons, all handled by his nanny with a meticulous and flawless eye. He half remembered the time he mixed up the salad fork with the dining fork and half remembered how he always bowed too low when practicing how to greet a guest. How could he have forgotten?!

The nanny helped him out of his crib and began prepping the colt for the evening. Once his diaper was deemed "dry enough" to last him the evening, a fancy outfit was already laid out before him in preparation for his first ever night of dressing up for a big, fancy grown up banquet. Or...at least it felt like the first time he had ever dressed up. Although he could have sworn he had dressed up for special occasions dozens of times. Maybe he was just nervous.

He was dressed up in an adorable sailor suit of blues and whites. Around the neck tied a light blue neckerchief as his legs were bound in white trimmed sleeves. His feet were fitted with blue shoes with metal buckles and knee high, white socks. The rear of the outfit had metal buttons running along his pants’ backside that bulged out conspicuously behind him. On the back were two elastic holes for his wings to sprout out of. And finally, to tie the whole thing together, a round, dark blue sailor hat with a light blue ribbon was perched on top of his head.

“A properly dressed gentlecolt,” The nanny said as she straightened the seams of Mix-Up’s completed ensemble.

Mix-Up examined himself in the mirror. Everything seemed well fitted to his measurements exactly. The nanny always had such a perfectionist's eye for detail. His shoes weren't too tight or too uncomfortable. The perfect dancing shoes. His hat fit his head perfect. Very unlikely to slip off. Even his diaper was kept snuggly in place, the bulge of which almost was kind of hard to see if he stood just the right way. He felt almost...grown up.

“A properly dressed gentlecolt,” Mix-Up found himself repeating with a glowing smile. It made his wings flutter with pride.

As he modeled in front of the mirror, he took another look at his wings. The blue feathered limbs almost looked smaller in the mirror. Like they had shrunk some. Then again, he couldn't quite remember the last time he had used his wings for anything. Not for flying, that's for sure. He was much too young for flying...right?

"Are you quite ready to go?" the nanny interrupted, "your guests will be waiting."

Only the anticipation of attending the ball was enough to pull the colt away from his very grown up looking reflection. They left his bedroom and journeyed down the long hallway where a richly red carpet led the way to the party. They walked past the oil paintings of rolling hills and past the golden candle holders that carried tall, stark white candles on top of their ornately designed necks. They even walked past the family portrait that hung just near the entrance to the great gathering hall.

The portrait now appeared completely restored like it was painted only yesterday. The familiar painting now vibrantly portrayed Mix-Up, standing in his Sunday-best in front of a roaring fireplace. The young pony wore a beaming smile, despite having to stand there for hours as the painter captured his likeness on the canvas. He just felt so grown up posing for the portrait.

Beside him, of course, was his mother as beautiful and as radiant as ever. The painting didn’t quite capture her grace, but the older mare still appeared very regal and poised. He did so love his mommy...his mother. He needed to remind himself that grown ups say “mother”, not “mommy”.

The main hall, a far cry from the derelict and weather torn echo that it once was, had returned to its pristine state. White and gold marble columns twinkled in the light as banners and blue-white streamers were hung off of them. The white tiled floor, polished to a perfect mirror finish, was void of any cracks or imperfection.

It was nothing like the cold and moss covered ruins that Mix-Up walked into only a few days ago. Or at least that’s what he initially thought before those memories grew fuzzy and dream like. Perhaps that was just his imagination getting the better of him. The mansion staff were always so keen on keeping the main hall spotless when company was over. How could the place ever look so downtrodden? They had the Jewel family’s reputation to look out for, afterall.

Looking over the crowds that gathered in the hall, it seemed that the banquet was already in full swing. Dozens of ponies dressed in lavishly designed ballroom outfits chattered and mingled away as others danced in the center of the room to a four string quartet.

“Presenting for this evening,” a servant at the foot of the steps called out over the party, ”Master Citrine.”

The crowd turned to applaud Mix-Up's arrival, making the colt glow with pride. Holding the nanny’s hoof, he took his first steps down the carpeted steps. The crowd started to gather as he neared the foot of the steps, dotting over the well dressed gentlecolt and commenting on how cute the clothes made him look.

"What a grown up young colt," he could hear them say, "he looks so well behaved for his age."

Age. The word rattled in Mix-Up's mind for a moment or two as the nanny guided him through the crowds. How old was he again? Well surely he was old enough to attend high school, right? Or was that just a dream he had. Afterall, he was still in diapers and he couldn't imagine any school would allow one of their students to walk around in diapers. Then again, he still had these lingering thoughts that he wasn’t always in diapers. Was there a time before that? Before all of this?

All these thoughts were so difficult to keep straight. Often the young colt had a tough time keeping his dreams and real life separate. He was sure he could come up with all the answers eventually, but he was so often distracted nowadays.

As the pair cut through the crowd of richly dressed ponies, Mix-Up noticed a familiar face among the chattering groups. It was an older mare with a royal blue coat and a flowing sky blue mane. She wore a lavishly gold and yellow dress that consisted of a complex ensemble of bodices, poofy sleeves, and skirts. She was all dressed up, but Mix-Up immediately knew who it was!

"Mommy!" Mix-Up exclaimed, cobbling over his own feet as he rushed across the room.

In his haste the excitable colt blitzed through the crowd, nearly toppling a waiter carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvre. He rushed into the motherly mare's arms at breakneck speeds, nuzzling into her chest.

“Oh goodness!” the mare chuckled, patting Mix-Up on the head, “why hello there, Citrine.”

"My apologies, Madame Jewel," The nanny was right behind him, bowing respectfully "the young master got away from me."

"Oh that is quite alright," Madame Jewel replied, "he's just excited to see me again." She gave the eager colt a loving hug as she continued, "I suppose I should have come up for a visit before the party."

"He was certainly growing anxious," the nanny replied, "could hardly focus on his lessons."

"I learned lots!" Mix-Up exclaimed, "Nanny's been teaching me table manners and silverware placement and dancing!"

“My, he does look handsome in his little sailor suit,” a new voice chimed in, catching Mix-Up’s attention.

“He is cute, isn’t he,” he heard his mom respond, “this year we decided he was old enough to attend.”

Looking up, he saw his mom was talking to another mare with goldenrod fur and a wine red mane swirled into a lavish hairstyle on top of her head. Beside her, half shielded by her leg, was a young colt with a ochre colored coat and a neatly trimmed, dark crimson mane.

The colt looked younger than Mix-Up...or was he older? Whatever the age, he seemed incredibly bored despite the lively party that played out around him. He also appeared a bit on the chubby side. From an easy, laid back life of never ending sweets and no nanny to tell him no, Mix-Up assumed.

“Dear, you remember Saffron, don’t you?” Madame Jewel said, gesturing toward the colt, “he’s your mother’s uncle twice removed third step-”

“We prefer just cousins,” the other colt's mother politely interjected, “easier for the poor dear to remember.”

"Of course," Madame Jewel chuckled, "Saffron is just about your age, dear."

"I'm like three years older than him," Saffron scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

"Saffron was just telling me how much he would just LOVE to have a playdate with his cousin."

"With him?! But he's a baby!" Saffron whined.

"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Madame Jewel chirped, glancing down at Mix-Up, "it would be nice to see him with colts his age."

“We’ll plan for some time soon I hope!” the other mare smiled.

“Oh of course, now that the harvest season is over with, our schedules are freed up until the holidays,” Madame Jewel replied, “oh but I do go on. My young gentlecolt here was eager to show me how his dance lessons are going along. Isn’t that right, Citrine?”

Mix-Up’s face lit up. She read his mind! “Yeah!”

“Then we won’t keep you then,” the other mare bowed her head with a smile, “until next time, Madame Jewel.”

“Always a pleasure, Madame Spice,” Mix-Up’s mom replied. She then took Mix-Up by the hoof and allowed him to lead the way out of the buzzing crowd and onto the dance floor.

Charging out onto the floor at just about the same speed as he went when he first saw mommy, Mix-Up excitedly scouted out the area for the perfect dancing spot. He ended up bringing his mother near the center of the hall, where party guests were more than generous to part out of the way for the eager gentlecolt.

As the strings started up another song, Mix-Up hopped up to his hind legs and got into position. Thanks to the nanny’s dance lessons, he knew just what to do during such a song. He checked the spacing of his back legs, positioned his forehooves so that one rested on his mother's hip and the other to the side in the air, and finally waited for an opening to the beat of the music.

Meanwhile his mother allowed her young colt to lead. Whenever he seemed stumped on what to do, she was there to give him subtle hints that would guide him back onto the path of proper etiquette and gentlecolt like behavior. She was certainly a more cooperative dance partner than the nanny. Where the nanny would scowl and scold, mommy helped follow through any fumbles or missteps the younger pony made.

The gentle and mellow music flowed through the air as it conducted couples into a floating waltz around the hall. In the grand scheme of things, the music guided the crowd in a heavily choreographed pattern that swirled them around the center of the room. Couples of classy stallions and stylishly dressed mares circled around Mix-Up and his mother, looking fondly upon the cute scene. It must have been such a precious sight to watch the matriarch of the household dancing with her well dressed son.

The preciousness of the scene was all but lost on Mix-Up as he focused more on getting his dance moves right. In all honesty, he spent more time looking down at his legs than anywhere else. Occasionally he would look up at his mother, receiving an encouraging smile before going back on focusing on the task at hand. The nanny had been practicing the waltz with him for weeks and he was dead set on not messing that up.

When the music finally ended, the ponies around the room applauded the quartet for their performance. Mix-Up, too involved in getting the routine just right, only noticed the music had ended when his mother joined in with the applause. He followed shortly after, but was more fixated on getting back to the dancing. Before the next song could start, however, he found himself being gently chauffeured away from the dance floor and back to the sidelines where the nanny stood in waiting.

“My sincerest apologies, Madame,” the nanny said among the fading music, “I had thought a diaper bag wouldn't be necessary.”

“We’ll just take him back to his room then,” he heard mommy say.

Mix-Up perked up at this remark and finally took the time to take stock. Craning his neck backwards, he found his dress pants were now completely soaked in the back, clinging to the back of his legs. An undeniable mark of a little colt who peed his pants.

“Best get these pants off and washed before they stain,” his mother said as she pulled his pants off, revealing the swollen, saggy diaper underneath. Something a proper gentlecolt wouldn’t be caught wearing, that was certain.

As he was rid of his pants, he took a self conscious look over the crowd. Most of the party’s guests didn’t even notice his shame and those who did gave him a polite and understanding smile. “Accidents happen,” he could hear their assuring glances say. Still, his ears drooped with disappointment. He didn’t feel so grown up anymore.

“You’ll just have to go without them for a little bit,” his mother continued to say as she helped thread his back hooves out of the bunched up fabric and handed off to the nanny.

“B-but I was supposed to be a proper gentlecolt today,” Mix-Up found himself whining, despite there obviously being a number of other things he should have been concerned about right now.

“There’s always next year, my dear,” his mommy replied, “let us go back to your room and we’ll have you cleaned up.”

With a slump and a defeated sigh, Mix-Up followed his mother out of the party. He kept his head down low. Not because of shame or embarrassment, but because of self-reproach. If he was a proper gentlecolt, he wouldn’t have wet his pants. Gentlecolts don’t wet their pants! His disappointment in himself overshadowed any shred of embarrassment he might have felt from being caught in a very public place with a very wet diaper. He even failed to notice the dozens of eyes that stared at his humiliation as he waddled through the party.

What mattered to him, and his surprisingly easily distracted mind, was that he blew his chance at being a grown-up.

Author's Note

While working on this chapter, I realized just how difficult it is to describe music in writing. Sure you have the blunt verbs and descriptors like "the music was loud" or "the music had heavy brass", but capturing the FEEL of the music or properly describing the atmosphere the music provides is incredibly difficult. Because music can be more than just vibrating noise waves.

I still don't think I captured exactly what I was aiming for. I did however find Johann Strauss's Emperor Waltz quite fitting to the atmosphere I was looking for.