On a Riverboat to the Sea

by Jarvy Jared

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Velvet, Slice of Life, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Night Light
Length: 14014

Twilight Velvet and Night Light attend a riverboat cruise to the sea.

You can neither escape nor forget the life you lead, much as Twilight Velvet wants to. Though proud of her children, she can't deny that being known only as the mother to two of the most powerful ponies in all of Equestria hasn't been easy. She'd like to forget her doubts, though, and a riverboat cruise seems like the perfect opportunity.

But still: you can neither escape nor forget the life you lead, regardless of whether it's the one you thought you'd have. But that's not what matters. Sometimes it takes being on a riverboat to the sea to remember that.

Runner-up for the My Little Renaissance Contest, and ended up placing 5th overall.

Pre-read and edited by the ever-wonderful Stinium Ruide, Ninjadeadbeard, Seriff Pilcrow, and applezombi. Thank you for all your help!

Cover art drawn by the wonderful Cyonix. My only edit was adding in the text.

Published 2021-07-21 18:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-07-26 19:00:12 UTC

Chapter One: If on a riverboat a passenger

There were two unconscious ponies on the floor of the engine room. As such, they did not hear what Twilight Velvet could: the eerie whine of a steam release valve—like a pup retreating after a hit from its owner. Far above, the pistons and cylinders rattled and chugged, and the massive paddlewheel steadily churned and spun.

Though she had no experience with valves and gauges, she remembered the engineer’s brief explanation from earlier. She could tell that the steam was beginning to build. Perspiration gathered along the valve’s brass metal face. In a short while, if not properly maintained by a trained crew, the steam levels could become critical, and that, no doubt, would lead to the boiler itself exploding. On a wooden riverboat like this, that could only mean disaster, not just for itself, but also for the hundreds of passengers on board.

Instinctively she took a step forward, meaning to wake one of the unconscious ponies.

“Don’t!”

Her eyes fastened on the speaker. He shuddered in front of the safety valve and squeezed a wrench a third of his size between his talons. Bloodshot amethyst eyes stared shakily at her through the dark. “Not another step,” he squawked. “Or else I’ll break it. I-I mean it!”

Velvet swallowed. Hot droplets clung to her fur. “All right,” she said, eyes darting from him to the valve. “I’ll just sit here. But, listen, you really should—”

He raised the wrench and tapped the valve. Somehow, despite the high-pitched keening, that sound echoed throughout the entire chamber. Velvet paused. Please. I just want to help you.

She sat down.

He lowered the wrench. His breaths were ragged and deep. For a moment, Velvet worried he might collapse. If he did, then she supposed she could drag him out before he did anything dangerous.

“Is it true?” he nearly whispered—it was hard to hear above the hissing, but somehow his voice cut through.

“Is what true?” Velvet replied.

“That you’re the mother of the princess?”

It was a question asked so many times that she’d grown a little tired of it. In other cases she would have bitten that topic in the butt rather than give any kind of answer. But this time, she nodded; then, thinking perhaps the griffin could not see her, she said, “Yes, it’s true.”

“So shouldn’t you be on a royal fleet or something? Why are you on this boat?”

Velvet blinked. She felt laughter bubbling up in her. Trying to stifle it, she failed, and ultimately let it consume her. “A-a royal fleet!” she gasped out after her laughter subsided. “Now, that would really be something. Of course, it’d preferably have to be something a whole lot faster than this steamboat…”

He cocked his head, the wrench loosening ever so slightly.

“I could be,” she continued, “but, well, I’m not.”

“Then why?”

The air around Velvet’s horn warped and swirled, a faint blue glow fading in from above her vision. Before she could fully commit to her spell, though, Velvet glanced downward, then back at the griffon. His voice had softened, and he lowered his wrench. This was no saboteur. This was a kid in need of answers to questions he barely could even ask. Hopefully from here, she could find a way to coax him away from the engine.

“Why are you on this boat?”—that was simple enough to answer.

She cleared her throat. “Well, actually, it wasn’t my idea…”

The riverboat was Night Light’s idea, after he’d read about it in the newspaper one morning. “We should do this,” he said after he’d finished. His bright smile almost made Velvet forget that he was seven years her senior, had it not been for the many wrinkles that lined his face like little trenches.

She took the article in her magic and read it over. It was brief in specifics. The riverboat’s name was the Equestrian Regent, a steam-powered vessel that had once seen service in the Equestrian navy before it was decommissioned shortly after Princess Luna’s return. Much of its military paraphernalia had been gutted, and it had sat, hollowed out like a carved pumpkin, in the middle of a dry dock for years. Then, it had come out of its retirement when the Equestrian River Company wanted to refurbish an old, mighty vessel as part of a new steamboat cruise service. In three months, it was expected to conduct its first voyage, traveling all the way from central Equestria to the southern coast, in whose waters it would languish for a bit before heading back home. The paper claimed it was the largest riverboat ever constructed. “It’d be a lot of fun,” Night Light was saying. “And the price for two adult tickets isn’t that bad.”

“True,” Velvet said. The price was beyond reasonable for the two of them. She bit her lip. “But… I don’t know, Night Light.”

“What? Are you afraid of getting a little seasick?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s—how do I explain it?” She set the paper down and placed a hoof under her chin. “It’s just a riverboat. It’s what old fuddies used to ride back when safety procedures were safety suggestions.”

“Surely you can see it’s been modernized? The boiler won’t explode or anything like that, I’m sure.”

“Shame, a little bit of danger could really spice it up.”

“Vel...”

“What? It’s a riverboat, Night Light. It’s not exactly a fast-paced cruiser cutting through the ocean. It’s just going to reach the bay and then turn back. It’s perfect for old ponies who like to take things slow.”

“But we’re getting there, Vel.”

“Don’t remind me. I like to think I still have a few years of my prime left in me!” She tossed her mane and huffed.

Night Light giggled. “All right, so it probably won’t be as exciting as, say, barrel riding or wingsuit flying.” She snorted at that. “But you don’t have to experience high-stakes just to have a little fun, right? Fresh air, open waters. Maybe even a little on-deck dawn-watching.”

“You’re not exactly selling it, mister.” Velvet jabbed Night Light’s chest. But she had to smile. “But that dawn-watching does sound a little romantic, I must admit.”

“I know ‘em when I see ‘em. Come on, Vel, please?” He wasn’t exactly giving her puppy eyes—he was not quite capable of that feat—but the imploring in his voice more than made up for it. “We did your safari expedition with your author friend last summer for our vacation. Surely a little riverboat isn’t so much to ask?”

“Well…”

She looked out the dining room window at the rest of Canterlot. Her mind flickered to the castle in the center, where no doubt her daughter was hard at work. To the north was her son, also working just as hard. For a moment she reflected on their present occupations, and a little proud smile crept across her face. She’d never thought she’d be the mother to both a prince and princess.

But lately it seemed that was all that ponies knew her for. Ponies at work or on the street wouldn’t greet her as Twilight Velvet, professional author and editor; not as Twilight Velvet, the most daring and adventurous unicorn this side of Canterlot Mountain; not even as Twilight Velvet, her own name; but rather, as “the mother to Prince Shining Armor and Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Velvet’s gaze drifted downward, and she twiddled her hooves. She wasn’t sure how she fully felt about that, if she should consider it a kind of gravestone epithet or a living accolade, a badge of honor or of difference. She supposed she was no stranger to such a celebrity life. It had been that way when Shining Armor became Captain of the Royal Guard, and when Twilight Sparkle had become Princess Celestia’s personal protege. But something else happened the moment that Shining became one-half of the ruling family of the restored Crystal Empire. Something had also happened when Twilight Sparkle became the newest alicorn, rounding out a quartet of alicorns when the world had, for a millenium, only known one.

Had that been all, Velvet believed she would not be feeling this disconcerted. She'd rather enjoyed some of the attention she'd gotten on the airship, after all. But something had changed between then and now. Was it her? Or was it the fact that Twilight Sparkle became the ruler of all of Equestria with nary a word of caution or counsel from Velvet herself?

These were different experiences of the same swinging extreme that had become her life. And the fact that such momentous occasions had happened roughly within the same year was just as unbalancing.

Velvet rested her head on a hoof. When she took account of her life, that kind of surprise alarmed her. She may have been prone to reckless endeavors, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to plan—not to the same extent as her daughter or husband, but still to an admirable degree. Velvet had known what she wanted in life: some adventure, a good, loyal husband, and children and grandchildren (one so far) to love and cherish. She’d gotten all that and was content to let things take their course. But she couldn’t have imagined that particular course being as bumpy as it had been. The extent to which her life had followed her planned path could be measured in coffee spoons, but nothing larger—the rest required tools of greater proportion.

Had she wanted this kind of life? Want, she figured, had very little to do with it. It was what it was—but was she supposed to take comfort in that?

“Vel?” she heard Night call.

Her gaze, however, did not snap to him, but instead back to the paper. She’d been so busy skimming the article that she hadn’t looked at the photo that accompanied it. It was of the Equestrian Regent, with a spokespony raising a hoof and smiling broadly at the camera. To the side was the caption: Ride with us and leave all your worries and doubts behind! It was terribly cliché, the editor in her was saying, but something about it struck a chord.

“Velvet?” Night Light called again.

She looked at him, finding his head tilted. In the morning’s glow, she could see a trace of silver lining his mane. His eyes had small bags under them. He could use a break—they both could.

“I’d have to set aside some time from work,” she began slowly, “but… well, how soon do you think you can get tickets?”

Chapter Two: Distant from Equestrian shores

On that fateful summer evening, the Neigh Orleans sky was as clear as it could be. All the stars seemed to have been arranged into an arrow pointing towards the great waters beyond, as one reporter on site put it. Hyperbole? Yes, but even the most cynical of ponies could not shake the feeling that something momentous was about to embark. The seagulls circled around the dock, unwilling to perch, as though completely captivated by the sight.

And what a sight it was.

Though the article and others had done a good job of describing the Equestrian Regent, they could not have prepared Velvet for the ship itself. Its name was stenciled across the outside of the wooden, pure white hull. Pockets of black and blue were interspersed throughout the sides of the boat like balls of candy. The two paddlewheels at the stern were painted bright red, and two smokestacks rose out of the bow. On a pole, the Equestrian flag waggled like a tongue in the gentle evening breeze. It still bore the caricatures of Princess Celestia and Luna.

Filtering out the crowd around her, Velvet craned her neck downward and focused on the pamphlet floating in her magic. The Regent’s six decks all had something for everypony. There was a spa and lounge area, a front porch café, a fitness center, a gallery, numerous staterooms, and a theater with the totally copyright-legal name of “Grand Galloping Saloon.” Velvet couldn’t see herself visiting every facility, but she anticipated a few of the more exciting ones would be well worth her while.

Velvet looked up and peered at the Regent’s hull. Something this massive could not possibly fit the river’s width, but as she swept her gaze over the water, she saw that the river that wound through the heart of Neigh Orleans was far wider than she’d given credit. The Regent, while indeed tall, sat comfortably against the shore.

Due to the number of passengers, there were two lines set up. Velvet and Night Light stood in the middle of one. The line was slow but steady, and allowed Velvet a good view of the rest of the passengers. Among ponies of all shapes, sizes, clothing, and social status were also a handful of non-pony passengers. Most kept glancing nervously up at the ship, as though afraid it could not support them all.

In the middle of the second line, there was a small griffon child. He was the color of basalt, with light gray fur and feathers making up the lower half of his body. He was looking up at the Regent, then periodically glancing behind him at the rest of the line. He shifted his weight from claw to claw.

In that line there were a few foals. The griffon waved at them, but the children rewarded him by huddling behind their parents, who stepped protectively in front of them. He was too far for Velvet couldn’t make out his face, but she knew the look of a lonely child when she saw one, and her heart went out to him.

There was a yellow pegasus next to him with a two-tone mane of seafoam white and blue. She was also looking up at the ship. When the line moved, the griffon tried to push past her, but she held him back with a hoof and a stern expression. She shook her head. His ears wilted.

It was a curious display. Velvet could have sworn the two were—

“Uh, Vel? Line’s moving, hon.”

“Oh! Right, sorry.”

A small table had been set up, and a gray, heavily wrinkled stallion, whose mane was as thin as cornsilk, sat on a wooden stool, meticulously examining each item presented to him. He looked bored. There was a small book with a bookmark sandwiched between the pages. Velvet snickered; he sure wouldn’t have time to crack that thing open tonight.

“Next,” he said. He barely looked up as Night Light handed him their tickets and paperwork. The stallion was just about to stamp the tickets and hand them back, when he paused, squinting at the names. Slowly, he raised his eyes and blinked at the two of them.

“Mr. Night Light? Mrs. Twilight Velvet?”

Velvet smiled a little. She couldn’t help but do a little twirl of her mane. “Yes, that’s us.”

Instantly, it was like a switch had been flicked. Some manner of fire came back into the stallion’s voice, and his eyes lost their dullness. He sat up straight. A painfully wide smile crossed his lips. “So good to see you two!” he exclaimed, holding up a hoof. “May I just say it is a true privilege to be able to entertain two members of royalty on our modest vessel!”

The “R” word permeated and lingered through the air. Even before the murmurs reached Velvet and Night Light’s ears, Velvet could feel their gazes rain down on her.

“Ah, technically that’d be our children who are royals,” Night said with an awkward chuckle. “We’re not princes or princesses ourselves.”

“As you say!” the stallion exclaimed, in a manner that made it clear that the distinction was lost on him. “But I can’t help but see that these tickets are for one of our Basic Staterooms. Would you like to be moved to one of the Luxury Suites instead? They come with a private veranda, and a great view of the waters, all from your room!”

“That won’t be necessary,” Velvet said. “We’ll take the rooms we bought. Won’t we?”

“Of course,” Night said. He was grinning lopsidedly.

The stallion’s ears drooped slightly, but otherwise accepted the counter-proposal. With a fluid motion, he punched a hole in their tickets and stamped their paperwork. “You’re good to go! Enjoy your cruise!” he said. “Next, please!”

Velvet and Night Light approached the gangplank, their luggage in tow. They joined a line of passengers already processed.

“You think there’ll be more of that once we’re on board?” Night said. Velvet understood his reticence.

“Maybe a little. But I’m sure everypony will be too busy enjoying the ship to bother with us.”

“You make it sound like we’re some kind of activity.”

“I can think of a few fun activities we could have in our room…”

Night blushed, and Velvet laughed. “Stow your thoughts, mister. I was only kidding. Let’s find our room first. I feel like I could get easily lost on this giant thing!”

The two began to climb the gangplank. Above, somepony pulled twice in the steamboat’s horn. It didn’t sound as brassy as she might have expected. It was rather like a thin whistle, ominously piping against the coming voyage.

In their modest suite, Velvet sat at the tiny desk by the window, a quill held in her magic. She was writing a letter using the stationery and quill and ink that had come with the room. Night was reclining on the sofa, his nose buried in a book, but judging by the gentle buzzing noise that came from his direction, he was doing anything but reading.

The Regent chugged slowly away. The harbor and shore of Neigh Orleans were still visible. Further beyond, through the cabin window, was the city’s skyline, which, at that late hour, was starting to brighten up the night. It was sure to be a sight for a few hours longer, before they started leaving the range of Equestria’s largest riverside cities and approaching the southern wilderness.

Velvet dipped her quill, held it above the parchment, and frowned. The ink dropped lightly onto the page, flattening into a dot that quickly lost its rich hue. She looked at the dot, then back out the window. The sky was darkening into a lush indigo. She blinked. She looked back at her paper, sighed, then returned the quill back into the holder. She stood in a clamor and said, “I’m going to walk around for a bit.”

Night Light answered with that buzzing noise. That was all right with her.

After closing the door behind her and taking in a deep breath of fresh sea air, Velvet began to wander around. She’d quickly realized, once she’d gotten onto the ship, that what Night had said was true. The other passengers and crew members were much too busy, either with exploring the ship or with her facilities, to bother them. It made wandering easier. It also made her mental wanderings a lot clearer.

She’d been writing a letter to Twilight. She’d meant to do so every other day, starting with this night. The Regent had its own mail delivery system, and she thought she ought to provide Twilight with some kind of an update to their vacation. It wasn’t requested, of course, but Velvet couldn’t help but think it was something she had to do.

Velvet looked down and pawed the floor with one hoof. And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t get the words right. It was like somepony had closed the link between her thoughts and her writing, when it should have been easy—it was just a letter to her daughter!

She passed a few more staterooms, then entered a stairwell. She went down two flights.

The problem seemed to be starting the letter. “Dear Twilight” seemed inadequate nowadays, but “Dear Princess Twilight” wasn’t any better. “Dearest daughter,” maybe? But that sounded like something an old duffy would write. And that was just the question of the greeting. What about the rest of the letter? What would she say?

It’s only the first night, she reasoned. She left the stairwell and emerged into the corridor of the main deck. Here there were more passengers, getting into their rooms or talking to crew members, and as such none noticed her. It’s not like there’s much to say. And yet she felt as though she had to say something more.

But what?

She continued to wrestle with that question as she stepped out onto the ship’s main outer deck. The smell of the ocean mingled with the steam from the two copper stacks just up ahead. She paused, her eyes landing on the flag and several crewponies attending to the mast. They had in their hooves another large fabric. Based on the design, which had a magenta diamond in the middle, this was one of many new attempts at designing a flag befitting the start of a new royal era.

She paused along one of the railings in the middle, watching.

Another crew member approached the funnels. He carried a set of tools, and these he set down once he was close enough. Velvet was close enough to hear him murmur what sounded like the recitation of an instruction manual. She smiled, amused.

“U-uh, excuse me, Mr. Crewpony.”

Both Velvet and the stallion turned their gaze. Approaching from the other side was the griffon child from before. His head was slightly lowered, and he tapped his trembling talons together. The little incident from earlier must’ve shaken him up quite a bit. No wonder the poor child was afraid.

But the stallion didn’t seem to care. He smiled at the griffon. “Hey, kid. Enjoying the trip so far?”

The griffon blinked up at him. His eyes were rather large. “Y-yeah,” he said.

“No seasickness or longing for land?”

“N-no.”

The stallion chuckled. “Great. That’s just what we like to hear!”

The griffon cocked his head. “You’re not screaming.”

“Well, it’s not all that loud just yet, but once we get up to speed—”

“No, I mean—” The griffon frowned, then traced a line in the wood flooring. “You’re not screaming. At me.”

The stallion looked confusedly at him. “Now, why would I do that? It’d be rather rude for a sailor to yell at a passenger.”

The griffon didn’t answer. Seemingly satisfied, the stallion turned back to his task. He looked down at the set of tools, thinking about which one to use.

“How long is the trip gonna take?” the child blurted.

“Hm?” The crewpony looked at him. He put down a wrench. “Well, the pamphlet should have told you that…”

“I can’t read it,” the griffon said miserably.

“Ah, that makes sense. Griffons don’t have the same alphabet as… well, in any case. The Regent’ll be taking about eight days to get to the bay area, assuming we travel at our optimal speeds.” The crewpony puffed out his chest. “Not that there’s any doubt. She’s manned by the finest steamboat crew around, I’ll have you know! Shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll reach the bay in no time!”

“In no time… And what’ll happen then?”

“What do you mean?”

He twiddled his talons. “Y-you know. We get to the bay, and then… then what?”

The pony grunted. “Well… we’ll drop anchor, lounge around for a bit, and then turn around and start the journey back.” He smiled. “Ha. Don’t tell me you miss land already!”

The crewpony turned to setting his tools back into proper order. He didn’t notice the griffon’s shoulders sag, but Velvet did. He hung his head, in a way reminiscent of how Velvet’s daughter had hung hers when she lost Smarty Pants. She wanted to go out there and comfort him, but felt it would be inappropriate for a total stranger to do that.

“Anyway, kid, I appreciate you keeping me company,” the pony continued. “But I do have to get back to work here, so if you don’t mind…”

“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Crewpony.”

“‘Course, kid. Enjoy your trip!”

The pony stepped around him and returned to inspecting the stacks and muttering to himself. The griffon watched him for a little while. He had a stricken expression on his face. He turned his head and looked over the edge of the ship, but didn’t appear to be looking at anything in particular.

“Galahad? Galahad!” a voice called out. “Where’d you run off to?”

It was the yellow pegasus. She flew out on deck and landed in front of Galahad. “Sorry.” He shrank back. “I was just…”

“I know you’re excited, honey, but you shouldn't run off like that,” the pegasus said. “We still have to unpack our things, remember?” He nodded, though he wasn’t smiling at the prospect. “Come on. Let’s get that done. Then tomorrow, we’ll do some ship exploring.”

“Okay, mom.”

No sooner had that bombshell dropped that the two flew up and over the main deck to one of the higher-up ones. Velvet’s eyes followed them until they were gone. For a time she stood against the railing, surprised that that had all happened.

Then abruptly she remembered the letter. She remembered that she was no closer to resolving the issue than when she’d come out here.

When she returned to the suite, Night Light was still asleep on the couch. Truthfully, she was also feeling tired. She went into their bedroom and lay down on the bed, but didn’t go under the covers. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll figure something out,” she said.

Only the gentle swaying of the steamboat answered her. She soon fell asleep, and dreamed of endless waves.

Chapter Three: Leaning over the wooden railing

She was awake by eight in the morning and found Night in the living room, blinking at her. “Guess I never made it to the bed, huh?” Night Light rubbed the back of his neck. More trenches dug across his face. Still, he didn’t look too bothered, and while his mane was a mess, it helped obscure the grayness growing there.

“We need coffee,” Velvet said. “And waffles.” Waffles were the best breakfast food, no matter what her daughter said, that pancake-loving traitor.

After freshening up, they left the suite and traveled down to the main deck, where the dining room was. It was a luxurious setting, with round, patterned tables, tall vertical windows looking out the sides of the ship, and crystal chandeliers. Many of the ship’s passengers were already seated, but, beckoned by the sea breeze and the warm morning sun, some had decided to eat out on the front porch café.

Velvet and Night sat at one of the empty tables nearest to the windows. At the other end of the room was a line of passengers getting their meals. The smell of fresh fruit, syrup, fried hay, and waffles popped and buzzed in Velvet’s head. A speaker attached in the corner connected to the Grand Galloping Saloon on the other end of the ship, allowing them to hear the band playing a calm, morning jazz piece.

“Do you want to get food now or wait until the line thins a bit?” Velvet asked.

“I can wait. I want my coffee first, anyway.” Night looked out the window. “Wow, that’s quite the view.”

She looked through it as well. They had traveled a good distance overnight. Though land still surrounded them on all sides, the river was beginning to widen, and any prominent shoreline features were starting to blur. The Regent was traveling smoothly, rolling along with the waves without a sense of either urgency or impatience.

A waiter came and asked what they would like to drink. Night asked for his coffee. Velvet asked for her own and a cup of orange juice. The waiter wrote this all down and then left, though not before recommending they should go for the waffles the moment they had the chance. Clearly, he had good taste.

Velvet returned to looking out the window. Her mind drifted back and forth from that to her failed letter.

“You all right, Vel?” Night asked. “You seem out of it.”

“I guess I’m still trying to wake up, that’s all.”

“Right.” His brow was furrowed and his lips were twitching. This was that look—the one he wore when the house had gone quiet while their kids were still in it… the kids who were now no longer kids, who were prince and princess respectively…

“Excuse me, may we join you two?” a male voice asked.

A unicorn couple had approached their table. They were old. The stallion wore an antiquated two-tailed suit, which complemented his slate coat, and he bore a kind smile with pink, fleshy gums and teeth that seemed to roll back into his mouth. The chalky-gray mare wore a fluffy bell dress and a bonnet that obscured her mane. Her frown seemed to cause the rest of her face to sag.

“Sure, mister,” Night said. He lit his horn and pulled out the two other chairs at their table. “You’re from Vanhoover, aren’t you?”

The stallion sat down, laughing. “I am! How on Equestria did you tell so quickly?”

“It’s something in your voice—not quite an accent, but similar. You see, I have a few friends from there.”

“You pick them well.” The stallion raised a hoof and tapped himself on the chest. “Cobalt Crescent, my dear fellow. And this here is my lovely wife, Frigid Waters.”

Frigid didn’t show any sign of acknowledgement. She had taken the seat opposite of Velvet, and was staring through the window. Her eyes were the color of sapphires but as sharp as the jeweler’s knife.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cobalt,” Night said. “I’m Night Light, and this is my wife, Twilight Velvet.”

Neither reacted to their names. Perhaps they didn’t recognize them. Cobalt simply said, “A pleasure meeting you both on this fine cruise ship.”

It was then that Frigid spoke. “It’s a riverboat.” Hers was a difficult voice to describe. The closest that Velvet could think of was the sound ice floats make when they rub against one another, a crisp, unsettling sound. She hadn’t turned her head.

Cobalt folded his ears, but maintained his smile. “Right! A riverboat. I was never clear about the difference…”

“Especially since,” Night said, smiling, “they both go out to sea.”

“Ha! We’ve only just met, but I think I’m going to like you, Night.”

Just then, the waiter came with Night and Velvet’s drinks. He asked what Cobalt and Frigid would like, but Cobalt ended up answering for the two of them.

He clapped his hooves after the waiter left, his head gravitating towards the buffet table. “It looks like the line is ready. How about we all go up and grab a bite before we continue getting to know one another?”

They got up—all but Frigid. She was still staring out the window. Cobalt cleared his throat. “Er, dear?”

“You go on,” she said quietly. “I’ll get my food when I’m ready.”

Her name struck Velvet as increasingly more fitting. But it couldn’t be helped. The three of them left her and joined the food line.

“Your wife,” Velvet began before she thought better of it. “I mean—”

“Cold, right?” Cobalt grinned at her. He looked almost impish. “You wouldn’t be the first pony to point that out to me.”

“She seems nice,” Night said without a trace of irony.

“She is, once you get to know her. Maybe you will later on this voyage.” Cobalt chuckled, before his gaze turned suddenly wistful. “You can’t tell by looking at her, but she’s probably the most determined mare I know. Why, she’s practically responsible for getting my restaurant business up and running—more than I ever could!”

“You’re in the restaurant business?” Night asked.

“Yes! The first of its kind in all of Equestria…” He went on to explain, while Night listened. Velvet, however, quickly tuned the conversation out.

She glanced behind. There Frigid still sat, watching as the water and land continued to pass them. When the waiter came and set down their drinks, Frigid didn’t turn her head to acknowledge him. There was something indisputably alluring about the older mare. Perhaps it was because of whatever it was that specifically drew her attention outside. But for the life of her, Velvet couldn’t think of what could be so interesting.

The jazzy song finished playing, and claps sounded all around. The musicians moved onto the next set—something of a mix between Caribou and Zebra traditional music. Some of the livelier passengers got up and started dancing in-line, with some staff coming by and stomping to the beat. It was an enjoyable display. And yet, Frigid remained unmoving as ever, still as ice. In return, Velvet was, too. Though the line moved and she moved with it, the rest of her seemed to be back in her seat, watching Frigid, trying to piece her together.

After they got their food, they returned to the table. Night and Cobalt continued their enthusiastic conversation—now they were talking about the change in music, it seemed. Velvet was only partly surprised at how quickly they’d become friends. Even in the long line of things that inevitably changed, a friendship between older stallions about their idiosyncratic interests would always remain.

When they sat down, Frigid actually turned her head. She looked over their food, and stared for maybe a half-second longer at Velvet’s stack of waffles. “Looks good,” she said. Then without another word she got up and joined the line herself.

Cold mare, Velvet found herself thinking. She felt a little bit guilty, even though Cobalt had said the same thing. She watched Frigid for a time and decided that regardless of what he believed, she wouldn’t mind not getting to know the other mare better. Besides, Frigid didn’t seem the type to care about her.

“Sugar, Vel?” Night asked, holding the shaker in his magic. She accepted, and eagerly coated her waffles.

“Are you, by any chance, a fan of card games, Night?” Cobalt asked after they’d finished eating.

“I know my way around a deck, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Splendid! There’s a poker lounge on the deck above us, and they’re having a small tournament later on today. I’d ask Frigid, but I doubt she’d be interested.” He winked at his wife, who characteristically didn’t respond. She was stirring a saucer of coffee with the same kind of detachment.

“How about you?” Cobalt continued. “It shouldn’t be too high-stakes.”

Night smiled, but turned meekly to Velvet. She playfully rolled her eyes. “So long as you don’t gamble away all of our assets, dear.”

“What about you, then?”

“I think I’m going to go walk around for a bit and burn this meal off.” Velvet looked at Frigid, about to ask if she’d like to join, but thought better of it. “You two go have fun. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Like two foals given early recess, Night and Cobalt clapped their hooves and grinned. They got up and trotted happily out of the dining room.

After Velvet finished her coffee and juice, she looked at Frigid, but didn’t know what to say. “Excuse me,” she murmured to the air before standing up and leaving.

Down the central corridor she went, which she found to be quite spacious. None of the passers-by really paid her any attention. She passed a few staterooms as well as the passageway leading to the Grand Galloping Saloon, but she didn’t enter. At the other end of the corridor was a blue arrow with white text reading ENGINE ROOM. There was a sizable crowd in the doorway. Having nothing better to do, Velvet joined them.

A crewmember was talking at length about the room. Behind her was a large metal frame with dials and gauges attached to the face. The crewmember had to shout to be heard, as several stainless-steel pistons were busy pumping back and forth in a loud manner. There were other sounds, too: bells and whistles of things that didn’t mean a thing to Velvet.

“This,” the crew member was shouting, “is a four-cylinder, horizontally-inclined, tandem-piston, steeple compounded, double-acting reciprocating steam engine! It’s what powers the two paddlewheels of the ship! Now, I know that’s a lot, so I’ll try to break it down! When I say that this is ‘steeple compounded,’ I mean—” Her words were lost in the pumping of other noises.

Velvet looked around at the other passengers. They all appeared interested, though none seemed to understand whatever the crewmember had just said. Another crewpony came by, asking the crowd to shuffle in, and as he left, there appeared an open space. Through it, Velvet saw the yellow pegasus and Galahad she’d seen earlier. His mom, Velvet remembered with a start.

Galahad frowned and gulped several times. It didn’t take long for Velvet to guess why. Along with the cramped interior, more than a few passengers were giving him sidelong glances. He shuffled on his talons, but didn’t alert his mom.

But not every pony there was like that. As another crew member passed through, she thanked Galahad for moving quickly, and while he didn’t smile, the frown did subside.

The noise quieted down just enough for the engineer’s voice to be heard again. “Here you can see some of the devices that make sure the engine is running smoothly.” She pointed to what looked like a small metal cylinder that had water boiling inside. There was an orbular weight attached to it. “This is our safety valve. It helps determine our steam pressure, which is what the boat runs off of. By adjusting the weight, we can keep the pressure below a certain limit, shown by this valve. If the pressure builds too much, the valve can open up and let out steam in order to release it!”

Galahad looked up at that. There was a twinkle in his eye—curiosity, obviously, but something else. Excited, he flapped his wings to get a better view, startling his mother. “Galahad, wait—”

“Hey!” another passenger exclaimed angrily. “We’re in a crowded room, for Celestia’s sake! You’re gonna poke someone’s eye out, featherbrain!”

Galahad’s face fell, and so did he. His mother was less mollified. She rounded on the irate passenger. “How dare you—” Her words were drowned out again by the other noises, but had their intended effect; the passenger quelled, muttered an apology, and shuffled to an unseen corner.

The ones closest to them visibly, if subtly, squirmed. “I swear,” Galahad’s mother said, rolling her eyes, “ponies somehow get meaner the further from land they go.” She huffed. “Don’t worry, Galahad. We’ll be back home before you know it.”

But Galahad didn’t answer. He clenched his eyes shut and his beak trembled. Some water leaked out. Velvet knew that look. Shining would be aghast to know this, but he’d made that look more than a few times when he was younger.

But rather than devolving into a tantrum, Galahad about-faced and shot off. He would have cleared the room easily had Velvet not accidentally been standing in his path of escape.

The collision puffed the air out of Velvet’s lungs. Both fell, Galahad with a cry, Velvet with a gurgle, much to her embarrassment. Luckily, because the distance had been short enough, he hadn’t been able to generate a maximum amount of force. Still, it was enough that in the morning she would be feeling it.

Galahad slid off of her just as Velvet heard the pegasus shove several ponies out of the way. As Velvet tried to remember how to breathe, the pegasus was cradling him, checking him over. That maternal display more than made up for the pain in Velvet’s chest.

She got to her hooves, now back to breathing. Galahad squirmed in his mother’s hooves, but she refused to let him out. “What have I told you about flying off without looking where you’re going?”

Galahad didn’t say anything, though, causing her to develop a concerned frown.

Velvet took a step forward. “Is he all right? Any bumps or bruises showing?”

“No, not that I can see,” the pegasus replied without looking at her. He finally squirmed his way out of her grip and returned to the floor.

“What about you? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” She turned her head finally.

Velvet was about to lie, when the pegasus made a strange, gasping sound, sounding disturbingly like the steamboat’s thin whistle. Even Galahad cocked his head.

Velvet took a cautious step forward. “Er, miss…?”

“You’re her,” the mare replied, first quietly; then she repeated it, much louder and more shrill: “You’re her!”

Ah. Of course. Velvet tried for a smile. “Uh, yes. I’m—”

The pegasus rushed forward and took her hoof and began to shake it furiously. “Ohmigosh, I can’t believe it! You’re really her! Princess Twilight Sparkle’s mother!” She let out a filly-level squeal. Only then did she stop shaking, but Velvet didn’t have a chance to step back; the pegasus began flapping her wings and floated in the air, her hooves on her cheeks. “Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to meet you, all the things I wanted to ask, to say, you know, as a mother myself, and—”

The rest of her words were drowned out by the other ponies in the room starting to murmur excitedly: “The princess’s mother? Really?” and “I can’t believe it!” and even “I knew she looked familiar! What’s she doing on this tiny boat? Shouldn’t she be living it up?” At once, the already cramped engine room became even tighter.

Then the pegasus let out another gasp. “Did he hurt you? Oh, please, please tell me he didn’t! I swear, he’s not usually this clumsy, please don’t be mad!”

“I’m not,” Velvet said. She tried for a laugh, but felt a bit of pain, so she settled for a cough.

“Are you sure? I-I mean, if you say so…”

The pegasus’s timid demeanor must have been a shock to Galahad, for he bore a look of utter bewilderment. His eyes showed no recognition of Velvet’s significance. Strangely, this made her feel relieved, though he couldn’t place why.

“Galahad?” the pegasus asked. “Would you please apologize?” She was smiling, yes, but it was the same smile Twilight Sparkle wore the one time she returned with a B instead of an A.

Galahad shuffled on his feet, then murmured to the floor: “Sorry, Mom.”

“Not to me, sweetie, to her, please!”

Galahad turned his whole body to face Velvet. “Sorry, miss…”

Realizing what was missing, she said, as kindly as she could, “Twilight Velvet, dear. And it’s all right. Nopony was hurt.” She couldn’t refrain from wincing, and hoped neither noticed.

Somehow the excitement in the chamber dissipated almost as quickly as it came, perhaps because the pistons gave a mighty shudder. The engineer didn’t appear to have noticed all the commotion, and continued her presentation unabated. At the sound of her voice, Galahad and his mother turned away momentarily.

Velvet took that chance to quietly leave the room. She tried not to think too badly of herself for doing so, but, really, she knew she ought to lie down for a bit, make sure nothing serious had occurred to her.

But Galahad’s twisted face haunted her all the way to her cabin.

Chapter Four: Without fear of waves or wind

The next several days of the trip were, thankfully, without similar incidents. Though the encounter with Galahad had left her sore, by that evening, when Night returned from his poker escapades, Velvet had recovered enough that she thought she might try out the ship’s fitness center, among other things. While Night was at first concerned once he learned what had happened to her, in the end he couldn’t stop her from heading out the next day in search of something to get her blood pumping.

She tried to pace herself so that she didn’t complete her itinerary too quickly. One day, she ran a few miles on the ship’s set of treadmills; she swam a few laps in the pool—an odd feature, one she didn’t question out loud—on another. She climbed the rockwall, tried the yoga class, and attended a magic performance at the Grand Galloping Saloon. The magician reminded her a bit too much of Canterlot snobbery, but she supposed it was all part of the act.

In her downtime, she returned to her room where a familiar sight always met her: the table by the window and the unfinished letter that accompanied it. Even if she ignored the question of how to start it, she had no idea what to put into the letter. It wasn’t because she had nothing to say; rather, it was because she had too much to say.

At least, she tried to convince herself that was the reason. It was more a reason and an excuse. She needed something to explain her stutterings, or lack thereof. Otherwise… well, otherwise, what would that mean? That she couldn’t talk to her daughter? If a letter was so hard, what about being with her in-person? Would it prove just as difficult? Was this a sign that something had changed within her, or between them, which only showed itself in her inability to write?

She tried not to think about those questions, busying herself with the Regent and what it had to offer. But eventually she ran out of things to do. Sometimes she thought about the pegasus and Galahad. It was a welcome break without an answer. She hadn’t seen them since the incident. How were they? Maybe she shouldn’t have left as she had.

And anytime she was in her room, the blank paper taunted her. The questions soon followed.

Finally, on the sixth day of the voyage, she’d had enough.

She woke early but wasn’t hungry. Bingo night had run late previously, so Night didn’t stir alongside her. The thermostat attached to the window told her it was a cool day. She dug around her suitcase for the scarf and coat and pulled both over her body.

Because she wasn’t hungry, she let herself wander around for a bit. In time she reached the main deck, but rather than stay in the lounge, she kept going until she was outside, on the ship’s bow.

The sun had yet to fully rise, and a thin blanket of ocean fog made everything look cool and gray. She came to the edge of the deck and stopped, looking at the silver sky, the waves rolling back and forth, the clouds that looked like they were about to cry. In the distance she could make out an archipelago of southern Equestria, populated by lush green hills, rocky coves, and sandy beaches so white they seemed to pierce through the fog. The riverboat was traveling so slowly, so comfortably, that as Velvet looked at the land and sea, they seemed to hypnotize her.

It occurred to her that this was the farthest from land she’d ever been. She’d never thought she’d travel this far, on a riverboat to the sea.

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

Velvet jumped.

Frigid Waters.

She was wearing a black-and-white dress with a shawl wrapped around her head. That was the only thing about her that had changed. She still wore her frown and her eyes still held that immense displeasure for anything. Velvet hadn’t even heard her approach.

“What?” she asked dumbly.

Frigid didn’t appear any more displeased by that. She joined Velvet in looking over the edge at the white beaches. “Look at that,” she said, raising a hoof. “Untouched land. Pristine, almost. You wouldn’t see something like that in most of Equestria these days.”

“Well, I’m sure there are nice resorts. In fact, there’s one near Las Pegasus—”

“I’m not talking about resorts. Don’t be daft.”

Velvet bit her tongue. Better to let old mares say whatever they had to say.

“Those beaches aren’t like resorts. You can tell at a glance, they’re nothing alike. No buildings. No towers. No huts, even, at least not yet, and also not yet: no roads, train tracks, landing strips for balloons or blimps. How long do you think that’ll last? How long do you think before some tycoon gets it into his big head that those beaches ought to become a coastal city? How long before they’re another port, and how long, do you think, before another Equestrian Regent sets off on another maiden voyage?”

Velvet didn’t answer. She hadn’t expected Frigid to be so… well, she’d say ecologically conscious, but she wasn’t even sure that was what Frigid meant.

She thought she might continue, but Frigid stepped away from the edge, scowling. “Heard there was a griffon kid aboard. Isn’t that a surprise? That one would ever be allowed.”

“You say that as though a griffon is some kind of wild animal,” Velvet said before she could stop herself.

Frigid didn’t protest. She just shrugged. “I’m old enough to remember when our relations were poor and the frontier was violent. There’s a reason why Griffonstone was isolated for so long. A good reason.”

She looked directly at Velvet. Something about her scowl dropped away. “But to think that a griffon could be on a boat with ponies… I’d never thought to see that in my lifetime. How’s your chest?”

Velvet started. “How did you—”

“I heard about it. It may be a big ship, but word gets around. Especially when there’s a tiny predator on board running into ponies.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“Sure. A kid that could tear you apart if he got angry enough.”

Velvet called upon all of her Canterlot social prowess to avoid shouting at Frigid. “If you came here just to talk this way about somecreature neither of us even know—”

“I didn’t, actually. I wanted to talk about you. Specifically why you’re on this trip.”

Another abrupt conversation change. Velvet supposed that was to be expected with a mare like Frigid. She just wanted to command conversations as she saw fit. But if it meant that the heated topic would be avoided, by all means. “It’s our vacation.”

“Ah. A vacation away from, what, exactly?”

“Why do ponies take vacations?”

“Why do ponies take vacations? But you’re no ordinary pony, Twilight Velvet.” Frigid’s smile seemed… well, frigid, but something akin to amusement was also there. “Mother of Her Royal Highness must have its perks.”

“Less than you’d think,” Velvet muttered. “Why do you bring this up? You don’t strike me as the type who’d want an autograph.”

“You’re not wrong.” She was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I’m just surprised that you’re on this boat. Not exactly a luxury liner befitting a new member of royalty… well, not quite the traditional member, but you understand.”

“Why do you care?” It came out more acidic than Velvet wanted. She bit her lip and forced herself to look at the beaches again.

Frigid shrugged. “Call it an old mare’s curiosity. Or meddling. They’re the same when you get to my age. And you stop giving a darn way earlier, believe me.”

When it was quiet again, Velvet realized that Frigid had no intention of leaving—not until she received an answer. Velvet supposed there wasn’t much harm in giving one.

But then she found out alarmingly quickly that she didn’t have one with her. Why was she on this riverboat? It was something Night suggested they do, but there was more to it than that. The Regent presented something to her: an opportunity, but for what?

“I guess…” Velvet felt silly, but tried to push through. “I guess I just… wanted to get away for a time.”

Frigid nodded as though this was completely normal. “Away from the spotlight. I can relate.”

“Sure, I guess. I mean, if that’s how you look at it.” Velvet blinked. “Wait. What do you mean, you can relate?”

Frigid barked out a laugh. It was mirthless, but strangely also without bitterness—a hollow sound one made when they saw fit to fill a space. “It might not be the same, but thanks to my husband and his exploits, I know a little about the curse of the limelight.”

Frigid returned to looking at the sea. The wind picked up a little. “Ten years ago, one wouldn’t have thought a pony could open business with the griffons, the Changelings, or the dragons. Anypony who thought they could were considered as crazy as those who believed in old prophecies—including that of Nightmare Moon’s return.” Here, she looked pointedly at Velvet. “Cobalt was one of those ponies. Did he tell you about his restaurant business?”

“I believe so…”

“I won’t get mad if you say you weren’t listening. It’s dull sometimes. But, look. He thought that the way to peace with those creatures might be the same way as to their heart: through their stomach. The restaurant world laughed at him, said that there was a bigger chance of Princess Celestia abdicating than him setting up a restaurant for dragons. Nopony believed him when he said it could be possible with just the right factors.”

“Did you believe him?”

“Of course I did. I’m his wife. What else am I supposed to do, call him crazy and lock him up? No, I believed and supported him, and when he started getting the documentation needed to push his restaurants into those lands, I dipped my hoof into my inheritance to keep ourselves afloat. Cobalt would never admit it, but we were in the red for a few years. It was only through luck and favors he never had to close things.”

“Yes. He told us about how much you helped.”

“Did he?” Frigid raised her eyebrows. “I suppose I never kept it a secret, but he never mentioned it to me…” For a moment she trailed. There was a splash of color on her cheeks that faded when she cleared her throat.

“Last year, it finally happened. With ambassadors making relations between our nations easier, Cobalt was able to jump on his idea and start his very own international restaurant business.”

“You must be really happy for him, then.”

“Ecstatic,” Frigid said dryly. “It only took a decade and many sleepless nights. Optimism doesn’t pay the bills, but some ponies have nothing else to keep them going.” She paused, then added in a demure voice, “I suppose that’s what I love the most about him.

“But my point,” she continued, “is that it wouldn’t have been possible without certain factors. Namely: a new, pony-friendly Dragon Lord; a reformed Changeling race; and a griffon friendship ambassador who answered directly to one of the teachers at a certain School of Friendship—which has a group of six ponies who once bore a set of powerful artifacts, one of which belongs to a certain alicorn princess, who recently ascended to become the most powerful pony in Equestria. I suppose I should thank you.” Frigid looked at her. “You must be so proud.”

Her tone was murky, but Velvet believed she didn’t sound necessarily sardonic or mocking. She was just stating the truth. “Do you have any kids yourself?”

“I do. Two, in fact. One’s a train engineer for the Equestrian railway system. The other works in Manehattan as an accountant.” She scrunched up her face. “I didn’t expect either to fall into their line of work, but I guess that’s just how life is.”

“Yeah,” Velvet said quietly, “I guess…”

Around them, the ship was beginning to awaken. Some gulls flocked to the posts and squawked at them.

“Ten years ago,” Frigid said. She sounded almost whimsical. “Ten years ago, none of this would have been possible. But all it took was a year for things to align for Cobalt. For the world to reach out with a long stick and change everything. Now he’s bought us two tickets for this silly riverboat thing. But I suppose I’ll entertain the trip a little while longer; Celestia knows he deserves it.” She paused, then added, “All in a short period of time. Makes you wonder.”

“Makes me wonder what?”

“What else will change. How quickly. If Equestria will be ready. If we’ll be.”

She fell silent again. The wind stampeded against her shawl, exposing a mane colored light-lavender and lily-white. Velvet’s heart skipped a beat. It was like looking at an older version of herself.

“Maybe we’ll call those beaches something like ‘Maretime Bay.’” Frigid snorted. “But maybe even that’s too much for the world.”

And for some reason, she must have thought that was all that needed to be said, for she turned and trotted away before Velvet could reply.

Velvet looked across the edge at those beaches again. But the riverboat had traveled too far. They were blurry smudges in the fog.

Chapter Five: Asked what about life could not change

Frigid came by the room the next morning. Velvet answered in her nightgown. “Come with me,” Frigid simply said. “There’s somepony I want you to meet.”

Something compelled Velvet to listen—perhaps the fact that Frigid now seemed perfectly capable of cordiality. Night was still asleep, but Velvet nevertheless stole out of the room, leaving him a note.

They went to the Fillies’ Parlor on the Cabin Deck. It was vacant, allowing Velvet to see the peach-colored room’s entirety. There were several comfy chairs set up around palm tree wood tables. A pony sat in one of those chairs. Only the tops of her mane and ears peeked out the back portion of the chair.

Frigid guided Velvet over to that area. The pony on the chair jerked her head and stared at Velvet, wide-eyed.

Galahad’s mother. She was nervous. She said nothing, waiting for Velvet to speak.

“Take a seat,” Frigid said. She was pointing to the chair opposite of the pegasus.

Velvet considered leaving. Whatever this was, she didn’t want to deal with it. But Frigid had brought her here, and she couldn’t imagine it was only to make a situation even more awkward. So she sighed and took the requested seat. Frigid settled on a third.

But she didn’t appear intent on guiding the rest of the conversation. There were some lifestyle magazines on the table, and she took one of them in her magic and began to flip through it, though Velvet couldn’t be sure she was actually reading.

The pegasus leaned forward, a hoof raised as though she meant to touch Velvet with it. At the last second, she hesitated, and simply placed it on the coffee table with a dull thud. “I didn’t get to introduce myself, when…” She shook her head and tried for a smile. She looked remarkably young, a few years older than Velvet’s daughter. “I’m Misty Amber.”

Velvet automatically went to introduce herself, but realized that’d be pointless. “It’s nice to meet you, Misty,” she said. She looked at Frigid, but she was too busy not reading. “So…”

“Right,” Misty said. She fluttered her wings and looked at anything but Velvet. “It’s... ah, well… yes, you see… I suppose…” A heated blush came to her cheeks. She coughed. “I wanted… I wanted to apologize. For what happened.”

“Ah. Right.” Velvet felt her own cheeks darken at the memory. “Well, look, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“It’s just, you know, you’re you and that means, or has meant, a lot, I mean, a whole lot to me, for the longest time, now, so meeting you in person like that, with Galahad, it was, it was—” Abruptly, she shut her mouth and groaned behind her teeth. “Goddess save me, I’m sorry! I swear, I’m not normally this frazzled, it’s just—” She paused. Took a breath. “Sorry. Could I have a moment?”

To Velvet’s astonishment, Misty closed her eyes, held a hoof to her chest, and breathed deeply in, exhaled deeply out, three times—exactly as her daughter and daughter-in-law did. That brought a smile to her face.

“I think it’ll make a lot more sense if I start from the beginning,” Misty began. “You remember what happened when the Storm King invaded, right?”

Though it seemed like a random topic, Velvet answered affirmatively.

“Equestria wasn’t the only place he invaded. He sent a small division to Griffonstone to steal something called the Idol of Boreas, since he believed it might increase his power. What he didn’t know was that the Idol had been lost for centuries. That small division ended up fighting the griffons over nothing but myth and legend. They lost… but so did the griffons.”

Misty’s ears lowered. “I was working as a doctor there—part of a new ‘doctors without borders’ policy. I tried to save as many as I could, but that wasn’t everyone.” She took a shaky breath. “Galahad’s family, a somewhat significant noble house… They were already in decline with the rest of Griffonstone. All he had left before the attack were his mother, father, and aging uncle. Afterwards…”

She couldn’t finish. She covered her face with a wing. For a moment, aside from the boat creaking and the ocean splashing, there was another sound filling that room. Even Frigid had stopped her page turning to give it the space it needed.

“They’d welcomed me to their country—about as warm of a welcome you can get when you aren’t a griffon,” Misty continued. “I felt I owed them something, and as horrible as those circumstances were, well…”

She paused again, her muzzle scrunching up. Velvet was suddenly seized by an urge to pass her a glass of water, but there were none available in the lounge. Her own mouth was dry.

“I’d never thought about having kids,” Misty then whispered. Her eyes widened at the admission, and she looked, frightened, at Velvet. The other mare gave a slight nod of encouragement, but even so it took a bit for the words to come. “I’d always thought I’d be too busy with my job to have one. But…”

“But with Galahad, you felt like you had to try.”

“Yes.” Misty swallowed. “And because I remembered you.”

Something changed in Misty. An iron strength appeared behind her purple eyes. Her voice rang with conviction. “I guess more specifically I remembered your children. Prince Shining Armor, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Two ponies who’ve grown to be two of Equestria’s most significant figures, and that isn’t exactly an exaggeration. I’ve wondered how that happened—not if some magic or doohickey was involved, mind you, but how children grow up that way? I thought about you having to do this, and then everything made sense. And look at your children! Look at what they’ve done and all they’ve become. That has to be because of you.” Misty’s gaze returned to the table. Her voice softened. “And I thought, if you can do that, then I can, too. I can help Galahad, give him a family, a home, a life, all the things he needs to grow, to laugh, to be happy.”

She raised her head, but instead of looking at Velvet, she peered through the parlor’s windows. “I didn’t expect to be a mother. But things changed, and I just knew. And when I saw you the other day, I wanted… I wanted to thank you.”

Then she was quiet. The ship creaked and swayed back and forth, back and forth.

Velvet was about to say something, when Frigid snorted. “Careful, child. Don’t go putting strangers on pedestals.”

“Oh, no!” Misty exclaimed. “I don’t mean to, really!”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Velvet said. “But, well, you shouldn’t say it’s all because of me, all right? I mean, I’m… I guess I’m honored that you’d think of me like that. But I’m just an ordinary pony.”

“With extraordinary kids!”

“With extraordinary kids, fine. But still, just a pony. That hasn’t changed, even if—” Even if my children have, and my life has a result? “Besides,” Velvet pressed on, “you’re the one who made that decision in the end. That should count for something.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…” Misty sighed. “It’s just that half the time, I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing. It’s been months, and yet it still all feels so new.” She rubbed her eyes with a wing, her face flushed. “I’ve tried to give him a sense of stability in his life—something that he needs after everything. But what if it isn’t enough? What if he gets worse? What if I make things worse?”

Then she let out an empty laugh. “Sorry. I must sound crazy. I mean, I’m his mom. I’m not supposed to worry about that.”

“No,” Velvet immediately said. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to worry about.” She held up a hoof before Misty could interrupt. “Look. Parenting is hard, there isn’t a roadmap for it, and you’ll never truly know what tomorrow will bring. So you’ll worry. You can’t teach them everything, and you can’t protect them from everything. But what you can do is try and prepare them as best you can, and love them, and hope they’ll find their way.”

Then Velvet felt as if she detached herself from her body mid-speech, and in the midst of listening to herself talk, she was peering back through her life at her children. Had she prepared them? No, she wanted to initially think. After all, nopony could prepare a son to be a prince, or a daughter to be a princess, let alone the Princess. That had been Celestia’s doing, or Harmony’s, or fate’s, or whatever. She hadn’t had a say in the matter. She should have felt bitter about that, and maybe she was.

But there was another emotion in her. Was it pride? It felt like an echo of it, and yet it had no word that she could name. But it made the bitterness fade, like how myths do over time. In that moment of weird detachment, she witnessed her body rise from the couch and cross the length of the table to give Misty a hug. Also in that same moment, she witnessed another version of herself play through her memories of her children. Every time they yelled, every time they cried, every time they had argued with her, asked for her, helped her and asked to be helped—these pooled forth in that infinitesimally small moment and made it infinite.

She’d been many things, she realized, and many things had she been made not of her own accord—but out of all of them, being a mother was undoubtedly her most prized possession.

Coffee spoons again—that was how her life was measured. But those small measurements still carried much weight.

Misty’s tears brought Velvet back into herself. Their hug broke. Misty’s voice shook a little. “It’s just been so hard sometimes, for both of us. Not just being a mom, but being his mom. Everypony staring at us when we go out in public, silently asking what we were. It didn’t matter how many times I told them I was just his mother, and he was my kid…” Misty blew out a hot breath. “That’s why I wanted us to go on this cruise, you see. I thought we could get away from it all, momentarily, at least. But, well, you remember what happened in the engine room.”

A pang of guilt cut through Velvet; she’d wondered the same before boarding. “I’m sorry, Misty. No mother should have to deal with that.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a slight tremor come over Frigid’s face. It seemed she, too, was struck by guilt.

“It’s not your fault. I… try not to let it get to me. It was just too much, though. Maybe if I had thought for a moment longer…”

“It wouldn’t do to linger on it. You’re his mother. Plain and simple. And for the record, I think you’re doing an amazing job at it.”

Misty’s smile was modest. “Thank you, Velvet. I wish Galahad were here to hear that. But he’s still asleep in his room.”

“Is he still upset about what happened?”

“He was before… I was a bit harsh on him, I realized that, so I did apologize.” She sighed. “I think it was just the stress of having to deal with another pony questioning why there’s a griffon on the ship that added to my… um… ‘excitement.’ But afterwards, Galahad felt a bit better. We went to the performance going on in the Grand Galloping Saloon the other day. I think he enjoyed it.” The small smile which she’d been holding seemed to take the early morning sun into itself. “It was good to see him happy. For the longest time I thought he wouldn’t be. It looks like this trip was just what he needed.”

Then she sighed. “It’s a shame it’ll be over soon. But I guess that’s just how things are, right? Happy things end before they ought to. That’s what makes them meaningful.” She scrunched up her face. “Ugh, now you’ve got me preaching sappy stuff.”

“You’ll get used to it, believe me.” She went to laugh, but at that moment, her stomach gurgled loudly. Velvet’s face burned. “I, ah, don’t suppose you girls would be interested in joining me for an early breakfast?”

“Nuh-uh.” Misty shook her head as the trio descended a stairwell at the second deck of the stern. “Pancakes over waffles. It’s evidence-based medicine.”

Velvet snorted. “Oh, heck. First Equestria’s throne falls into the hooves of a heretic, and now it turns out my newest friend is one of them?”

“The Royal Grandmother speaks the truth.” Frigid’s voice’s barely changed in tone, but Velvet could see the attention in her eyes. Misty opened her mouth to retort.

A heavy thunk shook the stairwell. Frigid and Misty clung to the railings. Velvet legs tensed.

A second thunk, punctuated by a cry, echoed through the stairs. The trio’s ears twitched. It came from the engine room.

After exchanging wide-eyed stares, they crept their way to the ajar engine room door. Narrowed eyes peered through the crack, spotting two shadows. The engineer’s shadow clutched his head with one hoof while the other reached out at his assailant.

“No, wait! What are you doing?!”

Another thunk. Another body on hard metal.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the second shadow whispered harshly. Velvet’s heart leaped into her throat.

Misty choked back a gasp. “That’s—”

Velvet didn’t think. Before the other mares could stop her, she lit her horn and pulled the door fully open, then galloped inside.

There were two unconscious ponies on the floor of the engine room. As such, they did not hear what Twilight Velvet could: the eerie whine of a steam release valve—like a pup retreating after a hit from its owner…

Chapter Six: Tell them, "It goes on, and we along with it."

Velvet stopped talking. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt like a vice was clamping down around it. A heavy blanket of sweat covered her body. Briefly, she wondered if Frigid and Misty had followed her in, but for some reason she couldn’t hear them.

She didn’t dare look. She didn’t dare turn her gaze.

Galahad was watching her. Throughout the story he hadn’t stopped looking at her, but he also hadn’t moved away from the safety valve, nor had he let go of the pipe wrench.

“So that’s why you’re on this boat?” he croaked. “Just to get away from it all?”

“I… guess so. To be honest, I didn’t really think about it until Frigid asked.”

He nodded at that. His gaze turned thoughtful, but nothing about him or his weapon changed.

“But ponies like you.”

“They… do, yes. Does that bother you?”

He was quiet.

Velvet racked her mind for something else to say, or a reason for him to move away. But she couldn’t think of any. She considered simply grabbing him with her magic, but how fast could she do that? He could wildly swing the wrench and snap off the valve, or hit one of the pumping pistons, or some other unspecified method of damaging the vessel. There was no way Velvet could fix a boiler, let alone a whole ship. She had to snuff out the fuse before it reached the fireworks at the end.

She had to buy time. Time for either the engineers to awaken, or for the captain to come running—if he’d even stop by.

“Galahad? What are you doing?” Misty’s voice broke through the silence.

Galahad’s eyes sharpened to something behind Velvet. The wrench jerked upwards. “S-stay back! I-I don’t want to have to hurt anypony e-else!”

Misty stepped forward. She looked at the first fallen engineer, then slowly raised her head. “You don’t have to hurt anypony.” There was a faint tremor in Misty’s voice, and her wings fluttered restlessly. “Just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

All three of them flinched when the valve let out an unusually high-pitched whistle. It made Velvet’s hide stand on end.

“You know what’ll happen if you plug that,” she heard herself say.

Galahad nodded. “It’ll stop the ship.”

“And overheat the boiler. That could cause a fire. And on a ship that’s mostly made of wood…” Velvet trailed.

His eyes were shaky. He knew it. But he still wouldn’t budge. Velvet’s heart sank. She’d have to force him.

Her horn began to glow.

Misty’s wings spread outwards. The magic fizzled away from Velvet’s horn once Misty blocked her view. Velvet leaned left, catching Misty giving a near imperceptible shake of her head.

“Galahad, I know you,” she said. Perhaps it was the heat getting to her, but the tremor in Misty’s voice had subsided. She seemed… calm. “I know you wouldn’t want to hurt anypony, not even if you thought you had to. You probably wouldn’t want to risk there being an explosion, right?”

Galahad didn’t speak, but his chest seemed to relax.

“But you want to stop the ship. Does… does that mean you didn’t want to go on it in the first place?”

“No!” Galahad’s shout stiffened the muscles of all three mares. “No, that’s not—I did want to go on this trip, I did!”

“Then… why? Was one of the crew members mean to you? Or…” A noticeable edge crept into her voice. “Was it that pony who yelled at you during the engine room tour? Did he make you do this—”

Galahad’s response, a squeak and a furious shaking of his head, was surprisingly violent. His eyes were tightly closed, and he appeared on the verge of tears.

“Then why—”

“Because I don’t want to go back!”

His cry reverberated all around them, filled with such wretched desperation and anguish that it made Velvet’s heart twist up. Another sound accompanied it: a hefty, disjointed rhythm of something that faintly resembled breathing.

Galahad wiped his face. “It was nice,” he mumbled. It was hard to hear him above the din. “Mostly everypony on this ship was nice to me. The crew, the passengers… but afterwards, when we get back, it won’t be like that. It’ll go back to—”

His words died as another high-pitched squeal filled the air. But Velvet didn’t need him to finish. She understood. That pony who’d scolded him in the engine room was just one in a long list of those who were unused to a griffon in their presence. Distinctly, she recalled Frigid’s own words—the casual way which she’d spoken, and how nonchalant she was about admitting that this was what she thought. Velvet glanced behind her, and saw Frigid bearing a somewhat guilty expression.

He gulped. “I thought I could change that. But I can’t change who I am. I’m a griffon, an orphan, and…” He furrowed his brow, searching for the right word. “... an outsider. And it doesn’t matter how many boat trips I take—that’ll always be the case. Won’t it?”

Misty’s face was the worst Velvet had ever seen it, but she recognized that look. “Heartbroken” was the weakest way to describe it; “shattered” was more appropriate. This was the face of a pony who knew the weight of Galahad’s words, knew, too, that they would no doubt prove true; this was the face of a mother rendered helpless not by the presence of worry, but the fulfillment of absolute dread and fear. The illusion of protection, which must be cultivated early, was in ruins—the pieces glinted like molten tears. What mother could defend her child from the harshness of that kind of reality?

Velvet’s own words back at the parlor now seemed like a poor joke.

“Even so,” Velvet said, “you… can’t stop the ship. Not forever.”

“Of course I know! But I just wanted to enjoy this a little longer! I just wanted to trick myself into thinking I was normal, that I could fit in, that ponies didn’t have to be afraid of me wherever I go…”

His voice warbled. His grip shook. He looked at the two mares, then at the engineers, then at nothing in particular. “I don’t want to be left alone again.”

Misty’s voice emerged, broken, in a half-sob. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Misty zipped to Galahad, folding her wings around him. The pipe wrench trembled in Galahad’s claws. Misty had flown so fast to him that he hadn’t had time to swing the wrench into the valve. Still, he was in the perfect position to swing it—but not without hitting his mother.

For a moment, and even as Velvet knew otherwise, all other sounds, all other movements, all signs that there was a world out there, faded. The silence that pervaded could have stopped any heart.

Then Misty, softly and tearfully, spoke. “You’ll never be alone. Not while I’m your mother.”

The wrench toppled from Galahad’s claws, landing on the floor with a hollow thud. The echo brought back the world, and with its return, Velvet heard hoofsteps rapidly approaching from behind her. She didn’t have to turn her gaze to know it was the captain.

He might have said something to Frigid, perhaps questioning what happened to the engineers still unconscious, but Velvet’s attention was squarely set on the two forms in front of her. She listened intently without meaning to.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Shh, shh. I’m here. I’m here now.”

There was something in Velvet’s eye, and she brought a hoof up to wipe it away.

Dear Twilight,

I hope this letter finds you well, or at all—it’d be rather improper if the letter of the princess’s mother ended up lost in the mail pile. (That’s a joke, sweetie, don’t worry!)

Anyway, I meant to write this sooner, but the oddest thing happened. I wasn’t sure of what to write. There was so much I wanted to say, or thought I should say, or could say, that I ended up having no way of knowing how to say it. Honestly, I think if I’d tried to power on through the letter when I started to write it, I’d have ended up writing absolutely nothing: no words, no message, zilch.

But I suppose that’s kind of the thing about some letters. Sometimes you do end up writing about nothing. But the important thing is that you wrote this nothing to somepony—you said, “I have nothing to say, except you are the one to whom I want to say nothing.” Many things change, but I think that sentiment will last for as long as there is need for creatures to communicate, to let themselves be heard by somepony else, either as a moment of cherished vulnerability, or as a simple reminder that we exist.

I don’t feel like I say this enough, and I do know you know, but… I love you, Twilight. And I am so proud of you, for all that you’ve done and had to do. And I will always love and be proud of you. No matter what comes our way, that’ll never change.

And even though our lives probably aren’t the ones we thought we’d have, I think it’s important we don’t forget that it’s not whether or not these are the lives we wanted to have that matters. It’s how we live them that counts.

Well, I don’t mean to wax philosophical—maybe another time. Anyway, let me tell you about this trip your father and I took. It was his idea, actually, but, surprisingly, it ended up being a very memorable trip.

We were on a riverboat to the sea…

On the eighth day of the voyage, the Equestrian Regent dropped its anchor into the seafoam-green waters of the southern bay and came to a complete stop. Just as the world was leaving the inky blackness behind and approaching the deep indigo band of dawn, Velvet came out of her cabin and trotted quietly through the decks until she reached the main one. The sailors were up, but none asked for her business.

She trotted up to the bow of the ship, right where the crescent front dipped into the water. She sat. Her tail swished behind her. She kept her eyes on the horizon, waiting.

Some uncountable amount of time passed before she realized a presence approaching her. She wasn’t surprised that it was Night Light. She heard him yawn, making her smile, and then he slowly trotted to her side and stood there for a moment. His blue coat kept him shrouded in the morning dark, but his eyes seemed to glow like the scales of a golden dorado.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“Not a wink.”

He knew what she was thinking about, for she had told him all about it. But instead of commenting on that, he said, “In our old age, we need our sleep, you know.”

“We’re not that old, but I know.”

He shuffled a bit on his hooves. She tapped the spot next to her with a hoof, and bent her head.

A moment later, he had sat down, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. She could smell the ocean and the riverboat on him. And though it was still quite dark, when she looked up at his head, she could see in his mane a few stray streaks of mercury casting comet-like tails across the swirling thickness.

His tail swished. Hers as well. Then they came together in a neat knot.

They were now watching the horizon together. And Velvet was thinking how nice it was to be here. For now. For that was the most important part of it. Tomorrow, if not later today, that now would pass; the ship would raise anchor and reverse course; Equestria and the world would soon take them all back. It was inevitable. They had come out of the world’s reach only to return.

She wondered about Galahad and Misty. No doubt when they returned, the world would greet them not with the same open arms it had given others. In this way the world was selectively cruel. It hurt her to think that nothing, not even the lives of two precious creatures, could change that easily. Yet at the same time, they had each other, and perhaps that would be more than enough to weather the storm.

It had been enough with her, at any rate. Even when her own world was flipped upside-down due to the machinations of fate or destiny or whatever, she had her children, and they had her. She suspected that that would suffice.

The indigo of the sky started to waver. Somewhere far off, a pony was doing her best, and Velvet, despite being so far away from her, felt a swelling of utmost pride and love in her chest. It banished what uncertainty had lingered in her, casting it back with the speed of a tailwind.

When the sun finally rose, Velvet couldn’t look away.

THE END