Conquered By Motherhood

“Do you recall the very first feeding?” asked Nightmare Moon, shifting her torso to get Gentle Nova and Midnight Satin into a more comfortable position. “Such a serene moment of connection, a physical and spiritual bond between mother and foal. If someone had told me - back then - that the process would become a chore in less than a single month, I would have…” she sighed, as the infants at her breast suckled quietly. “I cannot say. Cursed them with nightmares, perhaps.”

“I’m sure,” said Celestia, herself nursing Amaranth and Summerfree. “And I imagine the novelty would last longer for new mothers with only one foal to nurse. You have done nine times the work, sister; no one would blame you for growing frustrated with the task.”

“Thank you,” said Nightmare Moon. “My patience has been saintly and-” there was an impatient wail from Curio’s crib, and Nightmare Moon raised her voice to speak over it. “...and it feels good to have it acknowledged.”

Celestia smiled. “All the more impressive, Nightmare Moon, seeing as you are an incarnation of purest evil. You don’t suppose that affects the quality of your milk, does it?” Nightmare Moon scoffed, and Celestia pretended to ignore it. “Myself, I’ve been careful to make sure my foals get a proper balance between myself and my alter ego. Too much of Daybreaker’s milk, and they are certain to grow into tyrants.”

Nightmare Moon cracked a smile. “I am nearly positive that is not how it works,” she said. “The foals, for their part, do not seem to have a preference between my milk and Luna’s. The only distinction they make is between being hungry and being fed.” As if to affirm her point, there was another chorus of wails from the nearby foals who were still waiting to nurse. “Sister, did you realize that foals needed to be fed every few hours? And did it occur to you that each of them would grow hungry at about the same time? Because I confess that I was not in command of those facts before we chose to become mothers…”

“Oh yes?” chuckled Celestia. “I suspect that even Daybreaker - ambition incarnate - would have reconsidered bearing nine foals all at once if the practical realities had been laid bare for her. Even with adequate reserves of milk, only being able to feed two at once makes for a grueling routine.”

“I mentioned this to Twilight yesterday,” said Nightmare Moon, “and she offhandedly replied that she had been unable to devise a practical way to give us additional breasts. I had intended to ask her a follow-up question - several, actually - but business called her away before I was able to.”

Celestia laughed softly, shaking her head. “Ah, that’s my Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “Fearlessly seeking solutions that meeker ponies would not even dream of.”

“Yes, indeed,” muttered Nightmare Moon, somewhat distractedly. Another wail filled the nursery, and her ears flicked irritably. “...tell me, sister, how is it that you keep that infuriatingly serene smile on your face at all times? I know you wear that smile when you hold court; did it simply freeze that way?”

Celestia noticed that Amaranth had stopped suckling. She lifted the foal to her shoulder and gave her a gentle pat on the back, encouraging the baby to burp. “Court has something to do with it,” she said. “Our childrens’ cries, no matter how loud, are in many ways preferable to the empty, honeyed praise of ponies who come before me begging favors.”

Nightmare Moon snorted. “If you are weary of dealing with liars, why not cut their tongues out? You know… to send a message.”

Celestia chuckled. “I’ve thought about it,” she said, “But what would I do with so many tongues? Sooner or later they’d start to smell.”

“Even when I am awake,” said Daybreaker, “my sister has a way of inflicting nightmares on me.”

Moonlight Lance gurgled in response, reaching one tiny hand in Daybreaker’s direction. She was sharing a wide play-mat with the rest of Nightmare Moon’s foals, all of whom - for the moment - were Daybreaker’s responsibility.

“Is that funny to you?” asked Daybreaker, kneeling down to confront Moonlight Lance - although she kept her tone gentle and held a smile on her face. “Calling you foals little nightmares was not intended as a compliment. Sooner or later, though, I suppose I will have to start watching what I say around you, won’t I? Once you’re old enough to understand what I’m saying, I’ll have to be much more careful… especially if one of your mothers is listening.”

“Well, for now,” said Daybreaker, extending her finger for the goal to grab hold of, “I will tell you that your mother, Princess Luna, was terribly irresponsible with you and your sisters. While my foals are comfortably in the hands of trusted caretakers, Luna carelessly gave her childcare staff time off all at once. Now she and Twilight are off on matters of state, and I am the only one qualified to look after you. Did your mother do this with malice?” Daybreaker leaned in and kissed Moonlight Lance on the forehead, just below the foal’s little horn. “Probably not! But someone will listen to my tale of woe. Even if it is just you, your sisters, and your little ears that understand none of it.”

“Well,” sighed Daybreaker, “This is enough complaining from me. I don’t wish to instill any bad habits into you girls. If you want to collect grievances and nurse grudges like Mommy Daybreaker, that will be your decision - not something I forced upon you.”

“Yes, nothing but by-the-book parenting from me, young ones,” said Daybreaker. She picked up Moonlight Lance with both hands and lifted the foal to her shoulder. “And if the nine of you end up believing that I am cooler than Luna, then-“

There was a high-pitched hiccuping sound, and Daybreaker curled her nose instinctively as she watched a spot of spit-up drip down her blouse.

She sighed. “Well, I appreciate your candor,” she said. “I have years to improve your opinion of me.” She cradled Moonlight Lance in one arm, grabbed a small cloth from a bag she kept handy, and wiped off the stain as best she could. “Is that out of your system, Moonlight Lance?” she said, dabbing the foal’s mouth with a clean section of the cloth. “No more coming up? No distress?”

She stared into Moonlight Lance’s eyes, and the foal stared blankly back for a moment - then broke into a carefree smile.

“Well all right then.” said Daybreaker. “Back you go, Moonlight Lance. There are eight other foals who crave my attention just as much.” She set Moonlight Lance down on the playmat and briefly shook a colorful toy in front of her face, giving the baby something to fixate on in her mom’s absence.

“Now then, who among you most needs to be parented?” asked Daybreaker. “I have to parent you in the order of most to least need, little ones, or this whole nursery will descend into anarchy.”

Daybreaker thought she spotted distress on the face of one foal in particular. “You there,” she said, pointing a finger at Aurora Runner. “What is it you need? Daybreaker is at your service - a privilege few have ever received.”

She knelt by Aurora Runner, whose face wore a deepening frown. “Let us see what the trouble is. The most obvious culprit would be…” she manifested a small sphere of magical energy and prodded the front of the foal’s diaper. “Ah, there it is. A change will make you feel better.”

The sphere of magic expanded, split, and became a pair of floating hands. “I hope you’re not offended that I am not using my real hands,” she said, as she magically lifted Aurora off the mat. “I don’t wish to withhold physical contact, little one, but I prefer to do this job at a bit of a distance. Magic is ideal for that, as you’ll learn in due time.”

Daybreaker hovered Aurora Runner over to the changing table and held her above it. Still using magic to handle the dirty job, Daybreaker peeled the wet diaper away from the foal’s body and disposed of it. With a thorough application of sanitary wipes, she cleaned off Aurora’s lower half.

“There we are,” said Daybreaker, levitating the foal towards her body and cradling her in one arm. “Now that you’re properly sanitary, Aurora Runner, I can hold you close. Magic is a powerful and versatile tool, but there is no substitute for true closeness and warmth-“

Daybreaker paused, because she was feeling warmth in a way she hadn’t expected. A spreading, liquid warmth was permeating her blouse, and when she looked down her suspicions were confirmed: after leaving her diaper soggy, Aurora had delivered an encore performance directly onto Daybreaker.

“Oh, honestly,” groaned Daybreaker, scowling as she held the laughing foal at arm’s length. “Enjoy this sort of mischief now, small one, because as soon as you learn to speak I will expect you to explain yourself.”

She set Aurora down among her sisters. “I shall need to step into the bathroom and fetch a towel,” she said. “Before I let you out of my sight for several consecutive seconds, does anyone else have need of me?”

Tranquil Eve seemed to have something to say, if her crinkled nose and squinting eyes were any indication, so Daybreaker levitated the foal off the mat and up to eye level. “Little Eve,” she said, “your expression is ever so slightly troubled, yet your diaper is dry and you have been fed quite recently. Let me see if I can-“

Tranquil Eve sneezed, flinging an astonishing quantity of snot onto a previously clean patch of Daybreaker’s blouse. The blazing alicorn gritted her teeth, trying to keep a motherly smile on her face and holding back a frustrated bellow. If she let herself scream, she’d have nine crying foals on her hands in addition to everything else…

“I see,” sighed Daybreaker, setting Tranquil Eve back down. “Well, if that is all, I will clean myself off and return presently.” She looked down at herself, wincing at the mess she’d become. “It shouldn’t be long before your mother returns, darlings, and she will be heartbroken when she learns what precious moments she missed.”

“You like carrots,” said Nightmare Moon. “You have liked carrots since the first time you tried them, if memory serves.”

Nightmare Moon prodded Luminous Aether’s tightly closed lips with the little baby carrot. “We still source our carrots from the same farm, Luminous Aether,” she said calmly. “The carrots have not changed. Have you? Are you not the same foal who happily enjoyed all these foods only days ago?”

“No!” whined Luminous Aether, turning her head sharply and squirming in her high chair. Twilight Sparkle, who was having more luck getting the other foals to eat, chuckled softly at this.

Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes to tiny, suspicious slits. “Is that so?” she asked. “If you are not my daughter, Luminous Aether, what are you? An intruder? Perhaps a changeling?”

Luminous Aether didn’t have an especially good comeback for that. She swiveled her head in the other direction, pouting, and Twilight Sparkle once again failed to stifle a laugh. Unfortunately, the other eight foals took notice of that; over the past several months, they’d started learning what made their mothers laugh or smile, and getting that reaction had become something of a game to them. Most of the time, that was a good thing. It was fun and entertaining, and - as Twilight pointed out - it showed that the foals’ emotional and social development was coming along nicely.

But every once in a while, the foals would begin to play this “game” at an inopportune time. They’d been eating happily, but when they saw the way Luminous’ refusal made Twilight smile, they began to join in one by one. Curio and Serene Dusk - whom Twilight had been personally feeding - abruptly shut their mouths, mimicking Luminous Aether’s refusal. Twilight couldn’t help but find it funny - which gave the rest of the foals the idea to pout and swipe the food off their plates.

“Oh no. No, this is not acceptable!” growled Nightmare Moon. Her eyes shone with cold moonlight, and her mane seemed to grow bigger and darker with each billowing wave. “Foals,” she intoned, with a voice that suddenly echoed through the dining room. “I have entertained this foolishness for long enough. I command you to finish your meals, children - before I lose my patience entirely.”

For generations, Equestrian foals had grown up with the legend of The Mare In The Moon - the tyrant who had almost plunged the world into darkness, who had been prophesied to return and conquer Equestria. They learned as children to fear her, and even as adults most ponies - faced with the dark conqueror - would be stricken with paralyzing terror.

Luna’s foals had not grown up with the legend of Nightmare Moon - they had grown up with the mare herself. In their eyes, her power, her stature, and her booming voice didn’t belong to a tyrant, they belonged to their mommy. Nightmare Moon didn’t want her children to fear her, naturally… but in moments like this, she wished she could scare them just a little.

But she couldn’t. For her foals, Nightmare Moon’s anger was just part of the game - so they reacted with more laughter and pouting, smacking their plates and knocking bits of food to the floor. “Ooh,” said Twilight, her own laughter starting to fade as the situation escalated, “I don’t think they like being ordered around! Well, Spike used to get like this, and I was just a foal myself when I had to feed him! There wasn’t… nine of him… but if I go one by one, then…”

Twilight turned to Curio, picking up a carrot and trying to get the foal to focus on it. But there were too many other things for her to look at - the other pouting foals reminded her of the game she was playing, and the reddening face of Nightmare Moon reminded her of why she was playing it. “This is harder than I remember,” Twilight admitted, looking helplessly up a Nightmare Moon.

“Foals!” bellowed Nightmare Moon, her anger ominously dimming the room’s lights. “No one is leaving until all of you have eaten! If you persist in this, I will keep you here for as long as it takes! I am eternal, little ones, and if I have to wait here for a month then…” her shoulders slumped. “...then I shall grow very tired… so please, just… eat…”

Nightmare Moon hadn’t realized just how little fight she had in her. Twilight Sparkle stood from the table to place a hand on her shoulder - and the foals, heedless, just slapped cheerfully at their plates.

Over the course of the last five years, “Mom duty” had become a formally scheduled task - which didn’t strike Princess Celestia as the warmest approach to the responsibility of parenting, but it was necessary when there were eighteen children to look after and a nation to run.

At any rate, Celestia wasn’t on Mom Duty at the moment. Daybreaker was, and she - more than her counterpart - could see the virtues of the system. She’d been looking forward to today’s shift, in fact; a new season of school had just begun, and this would be Daybreaker’s first chance to greet the children as they returned from the day’s schooling.

The decision to go with outside schooling as opposed to tutors had been a subject of some contention - Daybreaker had spoken out against it - but Twilight, as she often did, had put together a compelling case that put her doubts to rest. It was hard to say no to Twilight Sparkle, especially when she did her research.

So Daybreaker was on board with school, but letting her children out of her sight was still difficult for her. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew everything - and, ideally, until she could control everything. When the row of carriages arrived at the front gates and released the foals, the majority poured out with all the youthful energy Daybreaker expected of them… but there was one - Golden Shield - who dropped miserably out of the carriage and dragged her heels across the cobblestones. Daybreaker gave the others a quick greeting as she passed by them, then she stood in Golden Shield’s way, ready to intercept her dejected offspring. Golden Shield’s eyes were downturned, and she probably would have walked right into her mom’s legs if Daybreaker hadn’t pointedly cleared her throat.

“Golden Shield,” asked Daybreaker, once the filly at her feet looked up at her, “what troubles you?”

Golden Shield couldn’t quite make eye contact with Daybreaker. Hiding her face behind blue-and-gold locks, she sniffled and mumbled, “Nothing…”

Daybreaker knelt and put two fingers under Golden Shield’s chin, lifting it up so that the filly couldn’t help but look her in the eyes. “I won’t be lied to,” said Daybreaker plainly. “You can, and furthermore must, tell me the truth.”

Daybreaker waited as Golden Shield collected herself. After a series of loud sniffles, she presented the story in a somewhat disordered fashion. “There’s… at school… a colt… and he’s-” she sniffled again. “He was chasing me, and, and laughing, and, and when he caught me he had dirt in his hand, and…”

Daybreaker waited; as a mother she’d learned the value of listening, and the years had made her pretty decent at it. She wanted to let Golden Shield tell the story at her own pace - but when the filly broke into outright blubbering, she began to wonder if silence had been a mistake. She swept her daughter into an embrace, lifting her off the ground. Golden Shield wasn’t surprised when her feet left the ground; she knew that Daybreaker’s hugs were more powerful, more enveloping than Celestia’s. Her crying started to slow, but when she spoke again her words were still broken by sobs.

“I’m s-sorry,” Golden Shield choked out. “You got this dress for me, and you told me I looked pretty, and I wanted everybody to see because… and, I’m, sorryyyy…”

Interrogating Golden Shield seemed like a needlessly indelicate approach, so Daybreaker did what she could to piece the story together. Now that she was hugging Golden Shield, she could see the back of her dress and the line of red-brown dirt that trailed down its fabric. “Golden Shield,” she said, “Did that colt pour dirt down the back of your dress?”

“Yes,” sobbed Golden Shield. “I’m sorry-”

“There is no need to apologize, Golden Shield,” said Daybreaker, setting her daughter down on the cobblestones. “I knew this day would come. You have done nothing wrong, but this presents us with an opportunity for a very important lesson. Young one, the time has come for your first lesson in the fine art of revenge. Now, let us see… this colt started things with dirt, so for a forceful but proportionate retaliation, we might consider-”

The sound of a throat being loudly cleared made Daybreaker stop and look over her shoulder. Twilight Sparkle was standing by the front gates, surrounded by a ring of foals, looking at Daybreaker with one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, Twilight is here as well!” said Daybrekaer, with as much cheer as she could force into her voice. “I had thought I was the only one on Mom Duty, but here she is! Well, the three of us can have a chat about…” she grit her teeth, “conflict resolution. Won’t that be nice.”

“Okay, this is going to be hard for you to believe,” said Spike, once he’d sent the little dragon pups scampering across the courtyard, “since I was a perfect ray of sunshine since the day I hatched. But it turns out - sometimes - raising dragons can be pretty challenging.”

“Oh, you were an angel, that’s for sure,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I don’t see what you have to complain about, though. You’re raising your kids in the Dragonlands, where nothing flammable even tries to grow. Poor Mom and Dad could barely keep up with you once you started burping up fire; even after they taught me and Shiny how to do the fireproofing enchantment and we had practically the whole house dragon-proofed, you always seemed to find something you could ignite.”

“It’s a natural dragon instinct!” said Spike. “But… yeah, dragons start to be a real handful when they first get their fires. My scales are pretty sturdy, but dragons can still hurt each other if they’re not careful. Or if they just don’t know how to be careful. It’s a good thing the castle has this courtyard-” he stamped his foot on the stone floor, emphasizing its solidity, “-or it wouldn’t be safe for me and the kids to visit at all.”

At the other end of the courtyard, the six little dragons collided with the alicorn children. Smaller in size, and badly outnumbered, the dragons were quickly swept up into excited embraces. Spike titled his head thoughtfully as he watched the scene unfold. “So, you did fireproof your kids, right? I mean, you’re not the type to overlook a detail like that, but I should probably ask.”

“They’re all taken care of,” said Twilight. “I had them fireproof themselves, actually! They were so excited about getting to meet their dragon cousins, it seemed like a good opportunity to teach them something new.” She laughed. “I actually told them they wouldn’t get to meet their cousins if they didn’t learn the spell. I think they believed me!”

Spike gave Twilight a disapproving look and a wry smirk. “You lied to your children?” he said. “And here I was worried I would end up being the worst parent out of the three of us.” He shrugged. “Well, there’s eighteen of them, I’m sure some of them will turn out okay in spite of your shoddy parenting.”

“They’re all going to turn out amazing, thank you very much,” said Twilight. “Look how good they are at making friends!”

The pony children were getting along well with the dragons, although they were treating them a bit more like pets - or toys - than fellow children. At the moment, they were passing the little dragons back and forth, trying to figure out a consistent way to make them burp up flame. Every once in a while they managed to coax a jet of colorful flame from one of them, and they attempted to and they seemed to be casting meaningful glances at the hanging banners on the perimeter of the courtyard. It hadn’t taken the girls long at all to find the one thing nearby that was actually flammable.

“I know, they’ll be great,” said Spike. “Still, though…” he whistled. “Eighteen kids. I could not handle that.”

“What can I say?” said Twilight. “I had two wives - or four wives, depending how you count it - pushing me to sire the biggest brood possible. Be thankful Ember isn’t putting that kind of pressure on you.”

Spike chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so sure about that,” he said. “She’s already been talking about… more. I could barely get her to let me go, and I’m almost afraid of what she’ll do when I get back…”

Twilight nudged Spike in the ribs. “Sounds like fun! We’ll see how judgy you are when you’ve got eighteen little monsters constantly getting themselves into trouble.” She squinted, focusing her eyes on the gathered children, and created a magical barrier around then just before they managed to ignite a royal banner.

“Were these things always this boring?” asked Gossamer. “Seriously, I do not remember the Gala being this dull last year.”

“I think this is just the first year we’re actually being expected to be proper,” said Flare Dancer. “Like, last year it was still, ‘oh look at the little princesses in their little dresses, ooh they’re getting into the cake, so cute.’”

“Yeah,” Midnight Satin agreed. “Last year we were just kids. Now we’re, like… the future of Equestria. People wanna know what kind of princesses they’re getting.”

“You are quite right, girls,” sighed Nightmare Moon, moving in to cast a shadow over the fillies. “I apologize, I could not help but overhear. Yes, dears, I’m afraid this is the reality of life in the court. Appearances and manners are paramount, and…” she sighed deeply. “Yes, it can be very tiresome. If it is any consolation, I am putting in an appearance against my wishes as well; I would much rather to leave things to Luna.”

“So we’re gonna have to do this all the time, huh?” Gossamer asked.

“It will become routine eventually,” said Nightmare Moon. “Some of you may even grow to enjoy this courtly schmoozing. And if not, there is always fun to be had in gossiping about all these tiresome ponies once the evening is over. Just be patient until then, and know that I am suffering alongside you.”

Nightmare Moon gave the girls a conspiratorial grin, and the three of them returned the smile. But a pair of stallions - young, finely dressed, wine glasses in hand, seized upon this moment of connection to pull Nightmare Moon away from her daughters.

“Can you believe it,” said one of the stallions, a pale yellow earth pony. “It’s Nightmare Moon! Never dreamed I would see you in the flesh.”

“We wanted to get a moment with Princess Luna-” said the other stallion, a deep blue unicorn. “But you might be an even better get! Equestria is only just getting to know you as something other than a conquering terror, and so few ponies have had the opportunity to speak with you!” He glanced down at the fillies, and let out an awkward laugh. “Maybe the little princesses should run along? Just in case the conversation goes in an after-dark sort of direction?”

Nightmare Moon nodded ruefully, and the girls “ran along,” grumbling all the while. They found themselves a spot by a wide marble pillar, where they had easy access to a table full of food but were largely hidden from anyone who’d try and talk to them. They also had a good line of sight on Nightmare Moon, and they watched their mom at a distance - all three commiserating with their mother’s torment at the hands of the two stallions.

Of course, the stallions weren’t trying to make Nightmare Moon miserable. High-society schmoozing was probably their favorite thing in the world, and maybe - to a receptive audience - they were delightful. But the girls could tell that these stallions were what Nightmare Moon referred to as “stuffed shirts,” and it was obvious that their very presence was aggravating to her nerves.

“Are you seeing this?” whispered Flare Dancer. “Mom’s already at her limit! I don’t think I could get her this mad if I tried, and these guys are doing it like it’s nothing.”

Gossamer laughed. “And these guys look like they’re having fun! I mean, Mom’s like, not even doing a good job of keeping her cool. Can’t they tell?”

“Must be pretty drunk,” said Midnight Satin. “Or pretty stupid! Both, maybe? Ponies are supposed to be scared of Nightmare Moon, and these guys are about to make her snap!”

“Yeah,” laughed Gossamer. “These two ding-dongs are gonna kick off a thousand years of darkness, just by being annoying. Mom’s gonna hurl ‘em right into the nightmare zone or whatever, then start rampaging all over…” she paused, watching her mother’s eyes go darker and her mane turn into a deeper, darker veil of night. “Uh, am I wrong, or is Mom, like, actually about to snap?”

Flare Dancer winced. “Yeah,” she said, “I think we might have to go over there and… save those idiots’ lives.”

Across the room, Nightmare Moon was clenching her fists and gritting her teeth as the stallions jabbered on. They had her cornered - a position she did not enjoy being in - and they seemed completely oblivious to her growing rage. Was this what she’d worked for, all throughout the past decade? Rehabilitating her image, gradually making more appearances in public, trying to get ponies to be less afraid of her… and now, she was seeing just what it meant for ponies to not be afraid of her. She was remembering why she’d wanted ponies to be afraid of her, all those centuries ago. Maybe a little wrath - just a little - would set things right. And who deserved it more than these two chumps? She sent a surge of magic up the length of her horn, ready to plunge-”

“Mommmm!” whined Midnight Satin, tugging at Nightmare Moon’s skirt. “I spilled punch on my dress! Help me?”

Her daughter’s voice brought her wrath to an abrupt halt; the growl that had been building in her throat turned to a sigh when she saw the cherry-red stain on the front of Midnight Satin’s white dress. “Excuse me, won’t you, gentlemen?” she said. “Midnight Satin requires my assistance.”

The stallions excused themselves, still heedless of the danger they’d just escaped. Nightmare Moon led Midnight Satin into the shadow of a pillar, priming her horn to cast a stain-removal spell, already starting to forget what she’d been so angry about. And Midnight Satin sighed, still not happy that she’d been the one who had to embarrass herself for this little distraction.

“Okay, hang on,” said Freshwater. “Daybreaker is a different person than Celestia? Or isn’t she?” He shifted on the couch, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Because I really thought I understood it before, and I’m starting to think I really don’t.”

“That’s on you! I did a great job explaining it,” said Ruby Flames. She was seated on the opposite side of the couch; she would have liked to be sitting closer to Freshwater, but getting caught like that might put the poor colt in hot water. “They’re in the same body, but they have different personalities, and they transform back and forth. Simple!”

“Ohhhh,” said Freshwater. “So like a werewolf!”

Ruby Flames grinned. “Yes! Exactly!”

“So why didn’t you just say that?” asked Freshwater. “You could have just said ’my moms are werewolves’ and I would have understood 100%.”

“Well, two of them are,” said Ruby Flames. “I mean, four of them are, in two bodies.” She sighed. “Ugh, it is impossible to talk about this family.”

“Okay, so I was right to be confused,” said Freshwater. “So I met Celestia last time, and now Daybreaker wants to talk to me? What’s that going to be like?”

Ruby stood from the couch raising her voice almost to a shout. “It’s going to be terrifying!” she declared. “There’s no other way to put it, Freshwater - Daybreaker is the evil version of Celestia! She’s a ruthless conqueror who wants torture all of Equestria with-“ her lips started to twitch upwards, and she barely stifled a laugh as she continued. “-the heat of the blazing sun! If she senses weakness-“

“Ruby. Flames.” said a voice from the guest room’s doorway. Freshwater twisted his next to look behind him, and saw a towering figure with a bright, fiery mane. “Why are you trying to frighten Freshwater? You are about to go on your third date with him - I should think this means you like him.”

Ruby Flames’ jocular confidence abruptly shriveled up at the mention of the world like. “We’re just joking around, Mom,” she said, a red blush spreading on her magenta cheeks.

“Of course,” said Daybreaker. “Could I have a moment alone with the colt? I won’t keep you apart for long.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” said Ruby Flames. She left the room, sing-songing “Good luck, Freshwater…”

Ruby closed the door behind her, and Daybreaker crossed the room at a leisurely pace. Freshwater watched her move, trying to keep his cool - trying not to gape openly at the sight of Daybreaker. She was different from Princess Celestia, whom he’d briefly met before his last date with Ruby Flames. He hadn’t realized that she would be bigger, or that she would have muscle definition that Princess Celestia’s lithe figure lacked. The dancing flames of her mane and tail weren’t a surprise, but he felt their heat on his skin as she passed by him - and he began to wonder if he really did have something to be afraid of.

Daybreaker took a seat where her daughter had just been, and Freshwater felt the couch shift from the Amazonian mare’s mass. He nervously cast an eye towards the points where her mane and tail touched the couch, half expecting the blaze to spread - but it stood to reason that Daybreaker didn’t go around setting fire to everything she touched. Reassured, he turned his head slightly and made eye contact with Daybreaker - and tensed up again, suddenly fearful that her focused gaze would set him aflame.

“So,” said Daybreaker. “Freshwater.”

These words hung in the air for a moment.

“How would you describe your intentions for my daughter?” Daybreaker continued.

Freshwater was once again silent, doing rapid and futile calculations in his head. He would have loved to know the right words to say to Daybreaker - if, indeed, there was a series of words that would de-escalate the situation. But he simply didn’t know enough about Daybreaker to figure out what to say. Honesty seemed like the safest option, but even that path was fraught. If he didn’t phrase the truth in precisely the right way, who knows what kind of...

And at the same time, Daybreaker was processing the situation from her end. She’d already fucked this up, hadn’t she? All she was trying to do was have a friendly conversation with her daughter’s coltfriend, but she’d scarcely said a dozen words and the poor kid already looked terrified. “What are your intentions for my daughter” seemed like a perfectly innocent question when she’d formulated it in her head… but from the way Freshwater was reacting, it was as though she’d pressed a knife to his throat.

“Calm yourself,” said Daybreaker. “I am not accusing you of anything. And a colt of sixteen hardly presents a threat to the royal family, whatever his intentions. Our intelligence team already looked into your background and found nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” said Freshwater, “You did a background check on me?”

Daybreaker groaned internally. Of course that would not have soothed the colt’s nerves. “The important thing is, we found little reason to worry. Unless, of course, you are not the Freshwater whom we investigated. I suppose there could always be a rogue faction of changelings, infiltrating the castle in the guise of a young suitor… a very clever way to use my daughter as a weapon against me.”

“W-what?” stammered Freshwater. “N-no, I promise! I’m just… me!”

“Oh… forgive me, I was simply thinking out loud,” said Daybreaker. “I am vigilant to a fault, they tell me. I frequently think about potential threats to me and my family, and... I should have known better than to vocalize them.” She took a deep breath, refocusing herself. “I did not intend to unnerve you with conspiratorial flights of fancy, young stallion. A hormonal teenager such as yourself is likely to do nothing more dangerous or sinister than simply impregnating her.”

Freshwater’s sky-blue face paled until it was nearly bone white, and Daybreaker placed her head in her hands. She was trying - she really, truly was.