Dreamwalker's Tale: An Anthology

This was my vigil.

I was sitting here, with my rump firmly planted on the textureless floor of the dreamscape. It was neither cool, nor warm. A sea of stars lazily drifted around me. I swam in the night sky. A beautiful sight even after so many years. But I had no resources left to appreciate that beauty. I needed to focus on the task at hoof. A task I had spent… how long on, already? Two weeks? Three?

I sometimes woke up. It always felt horrible when that happened. Not just because it broke my vigil, but for other distressing reasons as well.

I sometimes heard her voice. Or rather, their voices. Celestia was with me most of the time. When she spoke to me, although I was asleep, I could still hear her. I was not aware of my surroundings per se while being asleep – I did not notice the doctors that came and went, for example. But I heard her when she spoke to me. And I was grateful for that. Small mercies.

I sat before three bubbles. Three specific dreams I guarded, out of the literal sea of dreams that floated all around me. But these three, I willed them to stay with me. I forbade them from dancing around. And I denied them every attempt at escape.

They were gray. They had been gray from the moment my vigil had started. A gray, boring, lazy swirl of colorless mist. The dreamer was not present to shape it into anything, to give it life and color and a story.

Those three dreams were the dreams of my children.

Aurora was on the left. No surprise there. She tended to keep to herself a lot, despite our best efforts to coax her out of her shell. Other ponies tended to exhaust her. She still enjoyed company on the odd occasion. But her true companions were books. In some regards, she was even worse than pre-Ponyville-Twilight. Celestia had tried her old trick on Aurora once. ‘Go out and make some friends’, she had asked her. But our daughter was not as easily swayed as a young Twilight. Twilight had adored Celestia. She would have done anything to appease her. To please her.

Over many years of Twilight growing up, it had become a concern to her. Something she told me at some point, but I could not remember when exactly. We had tried to go about things differently with Aurora. Learn from mistakes and all that. Even though it would be a little bit harsh to call those ‘mistakes’. Twilight did turn out just fine after all. Just a little clingy sometimes and maybe she put Celestia on a pedestal. She still occasionally did that. For better or worse, it had become an intrinsic part of her being.

My mind was deteriorating. And I could feel it. It was one of the scariest experiences I had had in my entire life. I could feel it slip, piece by piece, week after week. Sometimes even day after day. Remembering things was becoming harder. Repetition helped.

This was my vigil.

I remembered Aurora crying. Shortly after she was born, with Celestia looking so pale that I felt sick with worry. Was she okay? Would my wife make it? In retrospect, those were some stupid worries. She was an alicorn. Of course she would make it. It was not her first foal either. But I clearly remember how I thought that all this felt horribly wrong. It should have been a moment to rejoice. A moment of celebration and revelry. I got to see my daughter for the first time. But instead, I just gaped, stared at my wife and felt my stomach twist. That was, until Aurora cried. My gaze snapped down to her. That little bundle, flailing her tiny limbs about. Celestia lowered her head and cooed to our daughter. And it worked. She stared at her mother with these big, biiig eyes. And giggled. Such a precious sound. It made me fall in love with her instantly. Celestia looked up, over to me, and with no word spoken asked me to come closer. I did, although my legs felt stiff, my hooves laden with iron. But as soon as I arrived, my love extended her wing. I had not noticed how I trembled. She assured me that she was fine. That I had nothing to worry about. That I should look at our daughter. So I did, and my world became so much… richer.

I remembered Aurora scraping her knee for the first time she tried to ride that damn scooter Scootaloo had gifted her. She had tried to impress Scoots. Wasn’t it weird? How foals changed? And they did it so quickly too. One year, she was all extroverted. Having tons of friends. Everypony was a friend to her. And somehow, at some point, she just… stopped. Looked inwards and started to read like there would be no tomorrow. I had been there as fast as I could, doting over her. I cleaned up her knee, bandaged it, wiped away her tears, almost smothered her with how forcefully I hugged her to my chest. My little baby girl was hurt. I could not bear that. And I cared little for my wife giggling in the background. ‘Just a scrape’, she said. ‘She will be fine’, she said. Many more tumbles would follow, thanks to that damn scooter. But she loved that thing.

I remember her calling me ‘dad’ for the first time. It was such a strange sensation. I supposed it marked the moment she grew up. My all grown up daughter refused to call me ‘daddy’, because that sounded childish. But try as I might, I could not sort this memory. When had that happened? How old had she been?

This was my vigil.

And repetition helped.

I focused on the second dream. Stardust. He always had been the mortar keeping those three together. Such a nice gentlecolt he grew up to be. As a parent, you are not allowed to pick and choose. Playing favorites is dangerous. Children knew. They always knew. They somehow felt it. And we didn’t pick. We loved them, all of them, each in their own way. But goodness gracious, was I proud of who Stardust had become. Such a kind-hearted soul. Always willing to lend a hoof. Always polite.

But he was no pushover. He tried to smile, tried to make his jokes work, but he knew serious times when he encountered them. He knew how to handle a bully. He knew how to stand up for himself and others. That was most certainly his mother’s influence. After the whole incident with the banishment, Luna had a lot of growth to do herself. And she had grown considerably. She knew what she wanted and she forged on to get it, despite minor hiccups and obstacles. This almost ruthless determination was a quality. One our son inherited. And I was grateful for that.

Was it not at least a little bit amusing? Thinking of that whole deal as an ‘incident’? One thousand years. One thousand nights. One thousand songs. One thousand and one regrets.

Time heals all wounds, they say. Maybe there was more truth to that than I gave it credit for.

Stardust was a catalyst. If somepony wanted to better themselves, he would help. If somepony wanted to be silly and prank others, he would go along with most stupid ideas, but always keep an eye out so that nothing got too serious. If Aurora wanted that book so badly, he would scrape together his pocket money and get it. If Arcana wanted to learn that spell, he would be the one to go and plead with Twilight. Maybe it would be more accurate to call him an enabler?

He made things possible. And in doing so, he made sure that the things he allowed were safe. To a certain degree anyway. But he had inherited more than just Luna's good looks and sharp mind. A prankster has to clean up his mess. And making mistakes meant facing the consequences. He did that too.

I felt my brows lower. I almost glared at his dream. Dared him to fall asleep. Every single time we found our children entangled in another disaster, he was there. He had led the CMCs at some point. And their infamy had only grown. I was not sure if this latest disaster was of his making. It did not quite fit in with what I knew about my own son. The scale of this was too big. It was decidedly too dangerous. But he was with them. Obviously. My daughters would never leave him behind, and in turn, he would never leave them hanging.

After a couple more minutes of intense staring… nothing changed.

There had been a funny story to this spell. At some point, many years ago, Celestia had tried in her usual roundabout way to teach Twilight a lesson in acknowledging her own limitations. She had sent her twelve books to read. In one weekend. An impossible task, really. It was meant to be impossible. But Twilight’s gotta Twilight. She misunderstood the entire lesson. The thought of giving up never occurred to her. Celestia had challenged her. She apparently believed in her. That she somehow could do this. And Twilight would never dare to disappoint The Princess Celestia. So, out of those three days – Friday included -, she spent one on arcane research. No scholar alive would just nod and say ‘yeah, I get that’ without lying if he were to hear the tale of that day. It takes a studious, very smart unicorn to understand just how ridiculous Twilight's efforts – and successes – were. She fashioned not one, but two spells that day. Even though one was admittedly ‘just’ a variation of a pre-existing spell. But still. It was insane.

The first spell, she called ‘skim’. Very pragmatic naming convention. It allowed her to read at four or five times her regular speed. After some calculation, she quickly realized: With twelve books to go through, that would not be enough. And she did not have time for fine-tuning the spell. It was quite a strain on her mental capabilities and concentration as it was.

So she drafted the second one. Sleep was such an overrated thing, was it not? And with her nights freed up, she gained dozens of additional hours. On that Monday after the fact, she let Spike send back all twelve books, with a detailed report on their content and her thoughts about the matter. In addition, she sent her two new spells, with a report on their development, thanking Celestia for her trust in her most faithful student and for the challenge.

I vaguely remember how Celestia had told me of that moment the books and scrolls arrived in her study. Reading the reports, she had been caught between a desperate laughing fit and utter bewilderment.

A month later, she had sent forty-eight books for one weekend. With Twilight being Twilight: It did not end well. But that was an entirely different story.

The important part was: Twilight had fashioned that ‘harr-di-harr, I don’t need to sleep!’-spell. It had made sense at the time. To her slightly panicked mind anyway. It had made sense to accept this new creation into the compendium listing all possible spells that were stored in the Canterlot Royal Archives. It had made sense to keep a copy around. And yet, I knew that Twilight blamed herself. Right this moment. She was out there, together with Luna, hunting down our children. Our brilliant, determined, insufferable children.

One way or another, every parent eventually had to come to terms with the fact that children grew up. Said children would prefer if said parents would accept that a lot earlier, while said parents struggled with that revelation and would often prefer to postpone it as long as possible. My children were in their mid thirties, for crying out loud. But they would always be my children, of course. My gaze drifted to that third bubble.

This was my vigil.

And Arcana knew it.

She was by far the smartest of the bunch. She shared Aurora's love for books, but she tended to gobble up the entire non-fiction section, while Aurora just loved to read in general and made little distinction between what she read. For her, it was about the journey. About ideas and lateral thinking and… stories. How she had loved my bedtime stories.

Arcana could appreciate them as well of course. She had, in fact. But way sooner than Aurora had she started to deconstruct them. To find flaws in the narrative structure. To point out plot holes and character inconsistencies. She was a smart cookie, which should have been reason enough to be proud of her. And I was. Really… I was.

But I remembered that evening when Twilight sidled up to me, draped a wing across my back and smiled at our daughter. Time to sleep, she had let her know. She shut down the lantern, let darkness engulf the room and a second later, after wishing Arcana a good night and kissing her forehead, we headed out of her room. And I felt defeated. I was sad. I felt like I had lost something precious there.

Arcana had not been angry. Far from it. She still loved the wonder and awe I tried to put into these stories. But that night, she had grown frustrated for the first time. And somehow, I knew that it would have been the last time I had told her a bedtime story.

Twilight tried to console me. It was a normal part of growing up. It had to happen eventually. Maybe next night, she would read to her? Something about the periodic table. I had just nodded. And accepted defeat.

I loved Arcana with all my heart, but I could not deny reality. She had always shared a stronger bond with Twilight than with me. I was not caught up in self-deprecation enough to think that I was stupid. But she was smart. So much smarter than me. And with years passing by, her intellect only grew further. I vaguely remembered two or three instances where it had almost become intimidating. That… that was such a strange feeling. Not being able to measure up to your own children.

It’s a double-edged feeling, really. On one side, there’s pride. My children surpassed me, they were decent ponies, they were successful — when has there ever been a better reason to be proud? But on the other side…? Maybe those were just remnants of my insecurities rearing their ugly heads. This was no contest. There was no reason to feel bad about falling behind, was there?

Twilight did not have that issue. Despite Arcana’s vast intelligence, despite her voracious hunger for knowledge, she had never managed to surpass her mother. Funny enough: I was under the impression that Twilight had to actually work to stay that one step ahead. And that she actually did work for it.

Arcana had full access to the Royal Archives. Because of course she had. It was probably what allowed her to find Twilight's old spell. The one where she did not have to sleep for a couple of nights. But she apparently had modified it. She must have modified it. Quite extensively too. They were gone. They had vanished despite being warned not to do anything rash or stupid, all three of them, and now they were gone and I sat here and felt sick, felt my stomach twist, while I held my vigil over their dreams, waiting for them to fall asleep.

They knew what I was capable of, of course.

That’s the problem when fighting family. They knew all about your strengths and weaknesses and capabilities. If one of them would fall asleep for just a second, I would be here. I would be waiting for them. I would use my dream magic and keep them asleep. And I would find out where they were. And I would send a message to Luna so that Twilight and her could catch up to them and end this disaster before it could further spiral out of control.

But they knew that.

They knew they could not allow themselves to sleep, because they knew I was waiting here.

Twilight had not thought it possible to modify her spell to such an extent. Maybe that would be the first instance of Arcana surpassing Twilight. What bad timing, really. Any other instance and I might have gloated a little. Celebrated the day Twilight joined my club. The losers club, where we watched our children be better than us. Still with proud smiles though. Always with proud smiles.

I knew Twilight blamed herself.

And it hurt. Knowing that. I wanted to make her feel better, but I could not. My only hope was that Luna would stand by her side and do what I wanted to do. Help her carry that weight. Lighten her load.

“Luna has returned, love.” Celestia's voice was merely a faint echo in the dreamscape. But it reached me. And that was all that mattered.

I willed myself to wake up, and so I did.

I hated this so much.

My mind was deteriorating. I felt it slip away, piece by piece, week after week. But my body… my body was even worse. It failed me. Had started to fail me some time ago and it had gotten considerably worse. I felt that stupid hospital bed under me. My sheets were drenched in sweat again. Remaining in the dreamscape for extended periods of time, keeping vigil over our children’s dreams, was putting additional strain on my body.

The doctors had berated me about this irresponsible behavior on multiple occasions. Until my love had stepped in and had raised her voice on my behalf. I had smiled, full of warmth and love. The doctors, on the other hoof, had flinched away a little. That was only natural, really. Celestia was serene, she was patience incarnate. She did not raise her voice. Ever. Period.

My limbs ached.

No, scratch that. Everything ached.

I felt my heart drum in my chest, slow and thunderous and uncomfortable. My limbs were too heavy to lift. It took tremendous effort to crack my eyes open and the very second I did that, the ugly, white, sterile hospital light stabbed its needles into my brain. I hated every moment of this. I hated feeling weak. I hated feeling helpless. I hated feeling all this pain in my joints. I hated barely being able to think straight. I hated how hard it was to breathe. I tried to say something to let them know that I was awake, but my throat was so tight that I felt like I was being strangled. I hated that, too.

So I just used what little strength was remaining to slightly turn my head and look at her instead.

And I hated what I saw. I hated that look in my wife’s eyes. How her heart took a hit every time she noticed how much effort it took me to do something as little as tilt my head. I hated her seeing me like this. I hated that pain in her eyes. I did not want her to see me suffer like this.

A lump was forming in my throat. My gaze glazed over, tears welled up. I hated that, too. I could not even swallow without putting more effort in than I could spare right now.

A decrepit shell for a mind that was slowly falling apart.

Celestia had tried to keep secrets from me ever since we came here. She was not very good at it, despite her thousands of years of diplomacy and plotting. At some point near the start of our relationship, she had decided to let me in. To show me. How she felt. How she worked. How she played her games. Maybe it had been too hard to close that door again. Maybe she had unlearned how to lie to me.

The doctors gave me another month or so. Half a dozen spells tried to make it bearable. Dampen the pain, let me sleep a lot, all the good stuff.

I could not bear the thought of having her sit there for another month.

But I had little choice in the matter. So I instead tried to focus on our visitor. Luna stepped up behind her sister and set down beside her. As soon as she did, Celestia extended a wing and held her little sister close. For her own comfort as much as hers.

Luna tried to put up a brave front. But the former Element of Honesty was a lousy liar. Who would have thought. She sometimes visited me in the dreamscape. A week after our children had run off, I had asked her why she so rarely came to visit me in the hospital. There was no accusation. I was just curious. And I could understand her answer, really. She did not mind seeing me in the dreamscape. I looked considerably younger there. More importantly, I looked healthier. Because in the dreamscape, I looked how I felt. Or how I wanted to look like. And she wanted to remember me like this. It hurt her, seeing me broken down, lying in that bed, unable to get up on my own terms.

It hurt Celestia as well. But she was there by my side, bearing the pain. I would not be able to send her away. They were different, truly. Like day and night.

“Hi,” I managed to croak despite the immediate pain in my throat.

Luna stifled a sob. She tried – and failed – to muster a smile. “Hi,” she replied.

“You look good,” I managed. It was a blatant lie. Her wings were all messed up from flying for way too long without being properly cared for. Her coat was ruffled from difficult weather. Her eyes were bloodshot. From tears as much as sleep deprivation, I presumed. Only her mane and tail remained as serenely ethereal as always.

“You too,” she answered.

My attempt at laughing almost ended in a dry coughing fit. I instead managed to cough just once. The twisted sound was enough that my attempt was understood. This time, with more effort, she managed a shaky smile. Even if it did die seconds after.

I wanted to say something. How are they doing? It was a good choice of words, I thought. Short enough that I might actually get it out. And open enough to interpretation that they would understand that I meant both our children and their pursuers.

But the tightness in my throat increased and despite Celestia giving me little sips from a levitating glass of water, it would not loosen up again. It would not allow me to utter a single word more.

Dangit.

I looked over to Celestia. And without any need to ask, she understood. “How are things progressing?” she asked on my behalf.

Luna drew a deep breath. It was enough to smash all hope I had. She closed her eyes, slowly shook her head and leaned more heavily into her big sister. Without reopening her eyes, she started to explain. “They managed to escape again. Stardust covered their retreat, knowing full well that I would be the first to arrive this time.”

Last time, Twilight had dueled Arcana and Aurora. With both working surprisingly well in tandem, they had been able to stand up to Twilight and exhaust her. Only after they had escaped had Twilight found residual traces of magic indicating why both had been working so well together. Arcana had apparently drafted a spell to connect their minds. Sharing memories, sharing feelings, sharing thoughts… sharing knowledge of spells, magic reserve and reaction times. It could not have been the first time they had used it. The feeling would have been overwhelming. Must have been. So, somewhere along their journey, they had managed to create that spell, practice that spell and then used it to defend their course of action against Twilight's interference.

Had I mentioned how proud I was of my offspring? And how frustrating their brilliance was?

Twilight would not give up of course. They had managed to get a lead, but she would pursue them soon enough. With Luna in tow. And it seemed this time, they had adapted yet again. They knew us as well as we knew them. Luna was not exactly known for her subtlety. She would have brought down the force of a mountain if it was necessary to stop this madness.

But.

She obviously did not wish harm upon our children.

While Luna did tell little about the details of her encounter, I could imagine enough. Stardust was a clever colt. Stallion. He knew his mother. The only thing he needed to do was construct a situation in which he was in danger. It would keep Luna from pursuing Aurora and Arcana and if he integrated a little twist that would allow him to escape as soon as she jumped in to help him, he would be free to catch up with them. And Luna would be stuck, at least for a little while, dealing with whatever he had left behind to keep her occupied.

“What are they still missing?” Celestia asked.

This whole ordeal was a scavenger hunt. A very serious, very dangerous scavenger hunt. All three of them were following ancient prophecies and clues in dusty tomes. At the very center of this madness was an alchemical formula. A legendary concoction they had probably heard about from Zecora, seeing as the legend originated in the Zebrian homeland.

A pinch of phoenix ashes. Hard to get that stuff. A phoenix had a lifespan of thousands of years before they burned out. And they were rising from their ashes the next dawn, leaving no ash behind. That meant a) finding a very old phoenix, b) patiently waiting for it to fall apart without getting burned to a crisp, c) collecting a pinch of ash before dawn.

Problem was: A phoenix could willingly shed its old body. It could burst into ashes if it wanted to. Most did not, of course. Why would they? But Whisper, Fluttershy’s daughter, had inherited her mother’s ability to speak with animals and beasts. And Celestia just so happened to own a pet phoenix, Philomena. Of course we did not know if that was how they got the first ingredient. But it seemed more likely than them scouring the entire world for a random chance encounter with an old phoenix.

The second ingredient was Queen Jelly, sometimes called Royal Jelly. That should have been very hard to get as well. But once more, there was an easy way. I had warned Twilight about a changeling hive in the southeastern parts of the Everfree Forest. And Twilight being Twilight, it took only a couple of years until they were… well, they were never really ‘reformed’ in the true sense of the word. But Equestria and that single hive had come to an… agreement. Seeing as these days, we had established trade routes, the most difficult and dangerous part of this was probably the journey through the Everfree Forest.

I could not imagine the hive giving up something as precious as Queen Jelly without asking something ridiculous in return. But to be honest, given how they were behaving… I was not sure if our children would not simply… steal it.

I liked to think we raised them better than that. But they were clearly desperate and desperation did something to a pony’s mind and resolve.

The Royal Jelly would bind the phoenix ash. But for a proper blend, it would need to be heated in a very specific way. That’s where the third ingredient came in.

“Well,” started Luna after what felt like an eternity, “they got the Dragon Ember.”

And there it was. The first time I had heard of this, I had laughed. A recipe that needed the dragon Ember to heat up a bunch of ingredients. Sure, let’s walk into the hostile, barren dragon lands, brave the massive, greedy creatures inhabiting it and waltz straight up to the dragon lord herself, asking her to spew a bunch of flames on some magically hardened glass bottles.

This wasn’t about Ember, the dragon, of course.

I had never heard of this stuff before the recipe was discussed for the first time. Dragons apparently usually laid their eggs in smallish lava puddles to keep them warm enough. These were flat enough that a newly hatched dragon would not immediately drown. But once a dragon hatched, the eggshell remained. That stuff was infused with massive quantities of magic, which contributed to its resistance to heat. But with the dragon out of the shell, a part of this enchantment broke. The remnants of the eggshell shriveled up over the course of days and formed a little lump of strange material that continued to absorb heat from its surroundings.

That was Dragon Ember.

Its generation process meant that it was the most abundant ingredient. Dragons cared little for those little, rocklike things at the bottom of their lava puddles. Our problem started, once again, with Twilight being very successful at being Twilight. She had befriended the gosh-darn dragon lord. She had established diplomatic relationships with the dragon lands. We were trading for those Dragon Embers. Because they were a powerful resource in alchemy – who would have thought, right? They were invaluable for forges and smithies all over Equestria.

That stuff was pricey though. And its acquisition was highly regulated. You had to fill out forms, there was a whole ordeal of paperwork to be done. You could not just waltz into a street corner shop and buy some. That was the only reason why we assumed that they were going straight for the source. Which still meant braving the dragon lands. Sure, dragons were our friends now – sort of. Dragons were still dragons though. And not every dragon was such an avid believer in dragon lord Embers diplomatic endeavors. Also: Dragons were not the only inhabitants of those lands, but everything that lived there tended to be massive and cranky.

And even if they managed to deal with that, they had to find a lava puddle that contained some. Levitation spells usually require line of sight. Twilight once again proved exceptional in that regard. And of course, Arcana followed her example. Still — even Arcana needed to know that there was something to be grabbed at the pool's bottom to actually grab it.

So they had three out of four ingredients now. The circle of life and rebirth, the tenacity of willpower, the fire of life. They were still missing the soothing currents of eternity.

“They are still missing the Aqua Vitae,” Luna continued.

That’s what I said, I grumbled in my head.

“Twilight has returned to the Royal Archives in hopes of figuring out where the well is located before they do,” she concluded and fell silent.

Heating the jelly, blending in the ash, then cooling it down in that water, mixing just a single drop in. The recipe sounded like a fairytale come to life. I half-expected some ancient villain to return in the process of this, or maybe to be freed due to its successful conclusion. There was so much danger involved, everything about this just screamed: Don’t!

Aurora had found the legend. Probably by listening to Zecora for too long. Arcana had researched its origins until she found that formula. And Stardust was Stardust.

We listened. We had multiple discussions. We had discarded the idea.

And they had run off.

I felt exhausted. Admittedly, these days, I always felt exhausted. But I noticed my eyelids drooping. They grew heavier by the minute, slowly closing on their own accord. I wanted to thank Luna. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her. How much I appreciated her visiting me. Even despite how much it hurt her. There was a lot I wanted to tell her, and Celestia, and Twilight. And a lot I wanted to tell Arcana, Aurora and Stardust.

Stop it, you idiots! You will get yourselves killed if you don’t. Do you want your mothers to be heartbroken? Don’t they have to deal with enough grief as is? Just… come home, please. Let me see your faces. Let me feel your warmth. Please. Come home…

I reopened my eyes in the dreamscape.

I felt exhausted. Frustrated. I had tried to fight the tiredness, but to no avail, it seemed. Without lamenting my fate too much, I chose a nice spot nearby and sat down. Those dream creatures nearby felt my presence. They had grown wary of me. Ever since Luna had returned to her duty as the dreamscape's warden, she had built up a reputation with these beings. And once I joined her forces, a tiny smidgen of that respect rubbed off on me. It was enough that these creatures kept their distance. Enough for some peace and quiet.

I brought down my hoof on the dreamscape’s ‘floor’. Once, twice, thrice.

I commanded, and those dreams dared not deny me. Three bubbles closed in, until they once again lazily drifted before me in a neat line. Gray, swirling mist inside, unchanged, unchanging.

This was my vigil.

I was not sure how long I had stared at those dreams, hoping despite better knowledge to see them change. Maybe hours had passed. Maybe minutes, maybe days. What did it matter? It was my love’s voice again that dragged me out of my reverie. And distressingly enough, she sounded surprised. But there was another voice as well. One I was just as familiar with, but one I had not expected to hear here…

“Mom, listen to me,” Aurora's voice echoed throughout the dreamscape.

“Young lady, you will listen to me!” Celestia shot right back.

“No!” protested Aurora. “Mom, please! Just—“

I felt that prickly sensation again. By this point, it had become more than familiar. I was apparently quite sensitive to magic. Not that I was that great of a spell caster, but I could feel magic around me. And seeing how my life had involved living with three alicorns… yeah.

But why was she here?

I tried to figuratively run away from the revelation. If Aurora was here, it meant we had failed. They had finished their journey. They had managed to escape time and again. That should have been a reason to celebrate. They were home. Safe and sound.

But what if they weren’t?, a suddenly terrified voice in the back of my head dared to ask, What if she returned because something went horribly, horribly wrong…?!

I was terrified. But I needed to know. So I willed myself to wake up again.

Pain. Aching muscles. Tight throat. Yes, yes, complain all you want, but do it later!

I cracked my eyes open. Needles in my brain, yes, I know.

I saw light. And it was not the sterile hospital light I was somewhat used to. Celestia stood a couple of steps away from my bed, her wings flared in all their impressive glory, her horn wreathed in magic. A beam of golden light shot out from its tip, across the room towards the entrance. Despite Celestia's wings, I managed to catch glimpses of Aurora standing near the open door. Her horn was aglow as well, a beam of magic shooting straight ahead, meeting Celestia's magic halfway.

My love would not dare hurt our daughter. The only reasonable explanation for what I was seeing was… that she tried to buy us time. She tried to keep Aurora at a distance. I saw it confirmed as Aurora, probably not for the first time, tried to take a step forward. She grunted in effort but was pushed back as soon as Celestia increased her power output.

Something about this scene felt strange though. There was a thought nagging me, and I could not pinpoint it.

“Arcana, need help,” Aurora grunted through clenched teeth while Celestia's beam pushed her back further and further.

The tables turned once Arcana entered the fray. As soon as she showed up in the open doorway, her horn came to life and a third beam of light shot out, intertwining with Auroras effortlessly. Together, they pushed Celestia's magic back, even though Celestia herself stood her ground.

“I take over,” Arcana simply stated.

Aurora gave a nod and broke out, canceling her magic. Arcana immediately grunted as the full force of Celestia's power crashed against her resistance… but she managed to stand her ground — for now.

“I won’t be able to hold her off much longer, hurry!,” I heard Stardust yell from outside.

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Despite everything that was happening, despite all this madness, they were here, alive, safe and sound… all three of them. They had endured. Thank Celestia. Well, actually…

Celestia tried to physically block Aurora from passing her by. She stepped to the side, but Aurora would not be stopped by something as mundane as a larger pony’s frame being in the way. There was a short glow emanating from some kind of necklace she wore around her neck, and I recognized a similar glow from a similar necklace around Arcanas neck. “Do it,” the latter agreed to whatever proposal Aurora had made.

Aurora charged her horn and looked her mother straight in the eye as she did so, but neither dared to say anything to the other. When all this was done, when the dust would settle, there would be time to talk. And there was no reason to pile harsh words on top of everything. It would be difficult enough as it was.

A second later, Aurora disappeared and immediately reappeared on the other side of my bed. A teleportation spell. She raised a hoof and carefully guided my head to the other side, denying me to follow the battle happening in a simple, small hospital room. It was ridiculous, really.

“Hey dad,” she greeted me.

I tried to answer, but my throat was still too tight and would not let me. I tried to smile and given how she replied with a shaky smile of her own, I liked to believe that I succeeded. She scanned the different technical devices surrounding my bed and grimaced before she intently refocused her gaze on me.

“I got something for you,” she whispered with a trembling voice. With all that magic crackling in the air, it was almost imperceptible. She opened her saddlebag and levitated a small vial out of it. It was made out of clay and corked until she removed the stopper.

I tried to shake my head. We had discussed this. Many times. With all parties involved growing more and more frustrated with each new attempt. But we had talked about it.

“Please,” she said, “please don’t do this to us. We can’t lose you. We’re not ready. I can’t lose you!”

She carefully, tenderly opened my mouth and poured the liquid in. It had the texture of melted gumdrops and faintly tasted of pepper. Strange, admittedly, but I had expected way worse. Yet I did nothing. It was there, swishing around in my mouth, and she realized that. She tried to make me swallow it, but she did not want to inflict any more pain on me, so she tried to be as cautious as she could – which led to zero progress being made.

“I can’t hold out much longer,” Arcana grunted from the other side, pouring whatever she had left into her attempts to keep Celestia occupied.

“She’s breaking through,” Stardust chimed in from the hallway outside.

And I saw Aurora tear up. I saw my little filly cry again, scraping her knee. I saw her cry again, in Celestia's hooves. I heard her giggle for the first time, staring in awe at her beautiful, exhausted mother. “Please, please, please, I can’t lose you!” she begged, grabbing me by my shoulders, all caution forgotten. She gave me a soft shake before she started to resign, before she broke down. She laid her head on my chest, her tears immediately drenching my coat, her quiet sobbing breaking my heavy heart. “Please, daddy… stay with me” she whispered.

Stay with me.

There was an intrinsic value to language. While it was quite lacking in many regards, it was still the best tool we had to communicate with each other. And because we wanted it so, certain phrases had power. Some of these phrases were universally accepted. I love you. Happy Birthday. My condolences. Other phrases gained power due to the events they were involved in.

Stay with me.

That phrase had haunted me throughout my entire life, it seemed. Haunted, or accompanied. Twilight had asked me to stay with her one fateful night. Best night ever. Celestia had asked me to stay with her while she was healing wounds that would have killed me. According to Twilight, I had actually died that day. Celestia had just… brought me back.

Stay with me.

She had called me ‘daddy’ again. That mare at my bedside, stupid enough to open fire on The Princess Celestia – her mother, no less – was gone. Left behind was only that little filly that loved my stupid bedside stories. That little filly that held on for dear life, riding my back while giggling merrily when I cantered down the castle hallways.

Stay with me.

Never had anything bad come from following that request, had it? I could not remember. My mind was clouded by too much… stuff. Too much of anything, of everything. While she was bawling her eyes out, hugging me hard enough for it to hurt, shaking like a leaf, I turned my head. I had noticed the lights returning to normal. And indeed, there was no fighting going on anymore. Arcana was standing still in an unnatural way. Paralyzed by a spell. And I finally understood.

I understood what had felt wrong about this scenario.

Celestia was one of the most powerful beings in this world. She knew more spells than Twilight. It was simply unthinkable that she did not have dozens upon dozens of options to end this encounter within seconds. She had chosen to let things play out like this.

My tongue moved a little. Stirring that liquid in my mouth, as if I had needed a reminder that it was still there.

My love looked at me. Watched me. Waited for me to make a decision. Because it was my decision to make. We had decided against the pursuit of this endeavor, but our children had persisted where we had given up. And here we were.

The doctors gave me another month or so. Another month in which Luna would avoid visiting me. At least here in the hospital. She would come by in the dreamscape of course. Another month in which Celestia would stand guard at my side. Every labored breath of mine a little needle plunged into a fresh wound. Every word my body denied me to speak was a reminder of how ugly dying could be. She would be there for me nonetheless, of course. She would always be there for me, until the bitter end. And bitter it was. I was breaking my little filly’s heart. Even Arcana, frozen in place, silently pleaded with me.

My gaze met Celestia's again.

I’m sorry, love. I’m just… I’m just not strong enough...

Tears welled up in my eyes. My vision blurred.

I’m so sorry…

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. She accepted the decision I was about to make, no matter what. I saw no disappointment in her posture. But for a brief moment, I thought I had seen the faint shadow of a very weak smile tugging at her lips.

It could mean a lot. It could mean nothing. It could mean the world.

I would find out.

I swallowed.

When I reopened my eyes, it was different. It – I – felt different. Everything felt different.

I was not greeted by the familiar aching in my joints or back muscles. No sterile white light was needling my eyes. My throat was dry, yes, but there was no tightness strangling me. And I was sure that if I tried to lift my hoof, I would be perfectly capable of doing so.

“Careful. You are still weak,” a familiar voice softly spoke.

I tilted my head a little. I was lying on a massive bed. It was soft. Silken sheets. Yet despite its size, there was little room left on it unoccupied. Partially due to my perspective, it was a strange sight to behold. So many ponies. This bed had never been this full. Twilight and Luna were lying to my left, next to each other. Arcana was nestled closely under Twilight's wing, and Stardust under Luna's. All were sound asleep. I turned my head to my right side. Celestia was lying close by, watching over me. Always watching over me. I did not quite appreciate the gap between the two of us, but I found it hard to complain too much, seeing as said gap was fully filled by Aurora. I was grateful for small mercies: Celestia's wing was large enough to cover both Aurora and me.

Aurora was asleep as well. I studied her face for a moment. Took note of her puffy eyes. Those dark tear stains still marring her coat. Yet despite the obvious signs of turmoil, right now, she seemed peaceful. There was even a small smile tugging at her lips.

I looked up to Celestia again and tried to read her expression. And I failed. Not because she tried to hide anything. Luckily, we had been past that for many years now. But despite her seemingly calm body language, her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. She could force herself to be calm for the sake of others, but with everypony asleep right now… she had time to spare. Time to try and work through what she thought of all of this.

It was a good starting point.

What was I thinking of all this?

Harsh words would be had eventually. But that was a storm well-earned, deserved, and it would be accepted with courage and resolve. It would blow over eventually. We would make up, everything would be fine. That would leave behind the changes that were made on a more… basic level.

The legend of that formula had promised eternal youth. Now, I was not vain. We had initially searched for something that would ease things a little more than what the doctors could do. And I remembered one of the reasons Aurora had given me. We're not ready! They would never be. I would never be. Heck, nopony would ever be ready for that.

What to make of this.

I turned my head again, stared up at the ceiling. For some reason, that usually tended to help me think. With everypony else asleep, I had a sort of grace period. But I did not know how long that would last. And Celestia was here with me. Maybe that presented a chance I ought to use. “I will regret this, won’t I?” I finally dared to ask.

Celestia was silent for a minute or two, before she finally gave a quiet sigh. “Eventually, yes.”

I gave a short nod. Despite what might loom on the horizon, I was grateful for that piece of honesty. I always liked to know what I was getting myself into. “Will you be there?” I asked, even though I suspected the question had a highly rhetorical nature.

I could hear her smile as my wife answered in the same manner she had done after we had exchanged our wedding vows. “Always.”