Sunday, September 13th, 909 AB (the next day)
Shortly before sunrise

Thanks to his relatively sedate Saturday, Cure wakes up before anypony else begins to stir. Rather than move to get up, the colt instead lies still, happy to luxuriate in the press of bodies all around him. Ceding to the girls’ demands, he had done the same as the last sleepover, conjuring up a wider bed and creating clones of himself for them to snuggle with. His sisters were, once again, granted the honor of snuggling with his real body, but that didn’t stop the others from getting in on the action.

While they may not all be touching the original, they still managed to completely surround him, mostly sandwiching themselves between the original and their designated snuggle clone. Except Crosswind, that is. The filly somehow ended up sprawled supine directly across his back, spending the night in a u-shaped position that would probably even earn props from a cat.

Whether it be intentional or not, his real body is surrounded on all sides. His head - horn retracted - is cocked to the side pressed right up against Ferric’s withers, giving him an up close view of her lower back and little else in the room. A twist of her puppet's neck reveals her sister on its other side, snuggled on her right under its wing with her forelegs wrapped around its neck just under her sister’s. The larger filly’s right hind leg is lying across its lower back just above its tail.

He’s not really sure what to make of Sapphire’s position. Their relationship is not romantic in any way, even less than it is with the others given their age. He’s already at a loss as to how this will all work with five girls vying for his attention, and a sixth - especially one that’s slightly unhinged - doesn’t sound like a helpful addition for his sanity’s sake.

For now, he figures the best thing to do is to chalk up her cuddling as simply searching out a warm body in the night and nothing more. It’s not like that would be strange for a pony, after all, and she had directly said she wasn’t interested in anypony “like that” not even a couple months prior. Either way having his throat draped across her foreleg wouldn’t be comfortable if he were unable to mute the sensations he receives from his clone bodies.

The clone to his left certainly isn’t going anywhere, either. Laid halfway on its back and right side, it has Glacial cocooned tightly to its belly with its left side pressed against Dawn. His human sensibilities are all but screaming in protest at the position, but, once again, pony norms are completely different in the situation. Their contact is certainly not sexual in nature, nor was it intentional on his part.

That his clone’s crotch is pressing against her lower belly is, while perhaps a very familiar position, it is also considered completely natural according to society. What’s more, she must have rolled him off of his belly to snuggle on him like that since, barring a reflexive twitch, his puppets don’t move at all when he is sleeping.

Just as when he’d shown the princess his alicorn suit, Cure had considered making the clones genderless. He ultimately decided that he is probably the only pony on the planet that would spend so much time worrying about a set of wedding tackle. He should have just made the stupid suit anatomically correct and called it a day, just like he should have ignored his mother’s dumbass dare.

Sure a few very rude ponies may let their curiosity get the better of them and sneak a peek at an alicorn’s package, but that’s on them.

Instead of neutering his clones, he made the decision he should have from the get go: Stop thinking like a human. Nudity is the norm. Clothing is for special occasions. Quit focusing on something that literally no other pony on the planet would even consider at all.

The others are behind him in their own smaller pile of bodies. Dawn’s and Rising’s clones lie in the pony loaf position with their wings draped overtop the yellow filly and Delta Coast. The only other colt in the group is wedged between the two girls on his back, happily snoozing away with their tails keeping his ears warm and his snout poking up into the air.

The colt knows he’ll eventually miss having everypony in a single bed, all cozied up and sharing their warmth like this. He plans on coming home as often as he can while attending Celestia’s school, but he’ll still be sleeping in a bed by himself at least five days a week while attending. What’s more, he’ll be stuck sharing a room with at least a few other colts during the week; a proposition he’s not exactly looking forward to. Harmony only knows what kind of ponies he could end up stuck with.

Either way, it means he had better make the most of what time he does have, and there’s no better way to show he cares than by spoiling the fillies a little.

Deciding who is the lucky lady to get his undivided attention first isn’t terribly difficult. Cherry and Lotus would normally be the obvious picks, but they’re a couple of ‘ol lazybones and don’t normally get up until at least eight o’clock. No, the only filly that’s consistently up and getting ready before the sun is Ferric, and as luck would have it, she’s also the one he’s done the least for.

The pegasi are raking in the bits with their outfit sales. Dawn, aside from her literally priceless horn upgrade, has similarly accumulated a decent chunk of change in her bank account thanks to him setting her up to sell enchantments. The other earth ponies - even the three he isn’t the coltfriend of - all turn a tidy profit off of the plushie sales he has them managing.

All that means that Ferric is long overdue for some good, old fashioned pampering the likes of which she’s probably never experienced. Fortunately, clone number five is free and clear, and is laying off to his right where Crosswind must have abandoned it at some point in the night.

Cure shifts his perspective, fully rousing the clone to wakefulness and taking conscious control of its motor functions. A few blinks and wiggle tests of its extremities confirms that he’s moving the right one, and in only a moment he has adjusted his awareness to fully mentally occupy it.

Step number one, as with any other time wakefulness is first achieved, is to complete a full-body stretch. Back muscles tense, raising his wings up and unfurling them to full extension as his legs, both fore and back, reach out as far as possible and his neck arches back, then rolls in a wide circle. With his hindquarters still flat on the bed, the colt pulls his front half to the left until a satisfying, but muted, series of pops fill the room.

Cringing at the noise, he looks over the otherwise silent room and is relieved to see none of the other foals stirring. A horn slowly grows out of his forehead; the bony protrusion taking longer than usual due to his clones not normally having one at all.

Casting focus prepared, he erects a Sound Bubble surrounding the clone body and finishes his vigorous round of joint popping. It’s a wholly unnecessary act; he could soundlessly allow the microscopic air bubbles within the clone’s joints to release, but something about that crunchy popping sound and the brief feeling of release is just too euphoric to pass up.

His own needs adequately seen to, Cure spreads his wings and pushes against the air, gently lifting himself off the bed for a better view. Extracting the filly without waking anypony else won’t be too tricky, but he would prefer not to wake her until he has her in position.

The first step is to scoot his real body back a few millimeters to give himself a little room. That’s accomplished easily enough simply by pushing off the bed and sliding backwards the slightest amount, all the while being careful not to disturb his sisters sheltering under his wings or the purple feline sprawled out over his back.

Next, he shifts his focus to the puppet sandwiched between the two sisters, noting how the two are resting their forehooves on the other’s shoulders, hugging his neck between themselves. It’s a damn adorable sight and he almost feels bad ruining it by extricating the elder. Comforting himself with the fact that they’ll all be waking up in the next half hour or so anyhow, he eases her forelegs off his neck while lifting her hind leg.

The filly instantly begins to stir and, realizing that he can’t possibly move her enough without waking her, the colt finally gives up and decides to cheat. He doesn’t like that he has to use his talent on her, but it will only be for a moment to keep her sleeping while he gets her out of the pile. All things considered, he’s confident she’ll forgive the slight abuse of his ability given his reasoning. It’s a bit of a slippery slope, he knows, but his eagerness to surprise the girl may just be overriding his good sense.

With slightly less care than he had started with, he frees her forelegs then encases the filly in a tight bubble of magic, lifting her up and out of the pile. He doesn’t take her far; merely to the foot of the double-sized bed where he conjures up a short, paddled table similar in appearance to the one he’d been placed on during his grooming session in the capital. The biggest difference is that this table is made of living vines, padded plant material, a soft, mossy surface and, most importantly, produces its own body heat.

Cure briefly amuses himself with the notion that he is placing a dark red filly - a virgin, no less - on what is, essentially, an altar of blood-filled tentacles. One that has been created by, arguably, an outside entity that may technically be considered a form of low level divinity.

The scenario, in a different context, would no doubt elicit a different response from anypony that happened to walk in unprepared.

Dismissing the thought as slightly humorous but also extremely disturbing, Cure gets to work growing his clone’s size to roughly that of a teenager and changing its forehooves into hands. The greater height will help him more easily reach the filly without having to climb atop her larger frame and straddle her. Another flex of his talent has a collection of brushes, combs, and files in varying coarseness separating from the side of the table.

Earth ponies, he is very much aware, will all but melt into a puddle of bliss if their hooves are taken care of correctly. That’s not something you just go full speed on right away, though. Especially with somepony who is still sleeping. No… he knows better than to hit those right off the bat. Starting with a still pleasurable, but less intense warmup is what this situation calls for.

Sound Bubble still in place, Cure sits on his haunches and cups the filly’s head with his hands, brushing his thumbs down the sides of her muzzle back to her jaw, then tracing a line up her snout and between her eyes. After a few passes he focuses on her brow and ears, softly kneading the skin and rubbing in circular motions at their bases.

As she begins to stir, he leans in close, tiling his head to the left and nuzzles the top of her snout with his cheek, softly murmuring, “Good morning, my sweet, strong, soft spoken smith,” in a voice much deeper than his typical juvenile one.

The filly’s eyes fly open and tail snaps flat against her rear, the rest of her remaining otherwise frozen in place from the unfamiliar tone and sensations.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he quickly reassures, leaning back while he barely illuminates his horn in a dim glow. “It’s just me.”

“Cure?” she whispers, relief coursing through her veins. “What are you…” she begins, trailing off as his fingers begin dancing in circles along her jaw and upper neck.

“Just showing my lovely ladies how much I missed them while I was away. I spent two weeks getting treated like royalty in Canterlot.” Snout scrunched, he adds, “Mostly. There were a few moments here and there. But either way,” he continues, trailing his nailless finger tips up and down the side of her neck, “sharing is caring, so I figure the least I can do is do the same thing for my fillyfriends on their last day of freedom.”

“Oh…” she trails off, drawing in a deep breath. She moans in delight when the colt starts really working his thumbs into the stronger muscles running up and down the sides of her neck. “This is nice,” she all but coos, leaning harder against one hand, then the other.

“Good. Now you just sit there and relax and let me spoil you for a bit. A quick massage, a hooficure,” he leans down and pinches the front edge of her left ear between his teeth, adding, “and then we’ll see about making sure that. Dark. Beautiful. Coat of yours is the envy of the other girls when you trot into the schoolroom. A nice grooming and a good oil brushin and you’ll be the shiniest Shine that ever shined. And I seem to run into a lot of Shines, so that’s a pretty high bar to clear.”

The heat radiating off the sweet girl’s face almost rivals Celestia during their final sparring match. As much as he finds the shy filly’s embarrassment adorable, he is ultimately on a relatively tight timeline. He scoots forward close enough to let her rest her head against him as he continues massaging her neck, ears, and face.

The young alicorn can’t help but smile at the way she leans heavily against him, firmly grinding her head against the larger flight muscles of his chest. Just like many of the fillies he’d danced with, she even turns her head to her side to press her cheeks against the well defined wall of muscle.

“Cure,” she breathily moans, grinding her brow into his chest. “I need…” she says, mumbling something under her breath that he couldn’t quite catch.

“Hmm?”

“I gotta -”

“My dear Red,” he rumbles, interrupting her whispering, “I need you to speak up. Don’t worry. The others can’t hear -”

“Pee!” she shouts, ears folded flat against her head.

The colt freezes on the spot when realization dawns on him. It’s been a while since he had to jump out of bed and rush to the potty, so it kind of slipped his mind that most ponies aren’t able to cheat their way out of that particular daily routine. He knows he could solve the problem for the filly, but she might literally die of mortification if he were to even suggest it. That, and outside of some specific health care scenarios, there’s not really a good way to ask if somepony wants you to help them go pee.

“... Oh!” Slowly withdrawing his hands from her withers. “Well… my bad,” he demures, shifting to give her more room. Head bowed, he motions to the door, lighting his horn to pull it open. “By all means, then, be my guest.”

Ears and tail pinned tightly, the bashful girl all but launches herself off of the table, darting out of the room. While she is gone, Cure frees the puppet snuggled against Delta Coast’s side, altering its colors and body shape, retracting its wings, and giving it a horn before Teleporting it out of the room so it can head to the bakery to fetch a whole heaping load of breakfast for everypony.

Another vine descends through the ceiling of the kitchen and starts getting coffee ready and setting the table. As the coffee maker starts brewing up a pot, the vine pulls a few empty pitchers from the cabinets and sets them out on the counter. A hole opens up at the end of it and it begins extruding a variety of juices, filling each other before hitting them with a Cooling cantrip and leaving them in the refrigerator.

Sensing Ferric as she makes her way back to the bedroom, Cure retracts the kitchen appendage and divides his focus between the unicorn puppet cantering through town on his way to fetch some pastries and the teenage alicorn awaiting her return. Initially hesitant to hop back on the table, she gives in after a moment and climbs up, turning to face him before lying down.

Her scent and body language betray her nervousness, though, so before he gets started he lays down in front of her, putting the two of them at roughly the same height. “What’s wrong, Red? What’s got ya all worried?”

The filly’s blush reignites and she stammers trying to give an answer. He waits patiently while she fidgets, glancing back and forth between him and the other foals all still sound asleep. Finally, she draws a breath and softly answers, “I don’t know. It’s just so… you know.”

“A little too familiar for you? Too intimate, maybe?” he guesses.

She nods in a quick, jerky motion betraying her unease.

“I understand,” he emphatically agrees. He lightly waves a wing in dismissal and, In a conversational tone, explains, “But don’t take it as some kind of romantic overture if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m just doing the same thing for you all that the servants did at the palace. Like I said, this is what they did every day when I woke up. Me and Amy, both.”

After a brief pause he adds, “Sort of, that is. We didn’t get a massage every morning, but they bathed us,” he pauses, casting a Cleaning spell on her, “which I’ll agree, was a little bit odd the first few times, but still felt pretty great.” Resuming his massage, he continues, “Once we were scrubbed from snout to tail, they would brush us and do our manes, comb out our tails, maybe give us a tiny touch-up trim to make sure our coats didn’t come down over our hooves, blah blah blah, etcetera, etcetera.” The end of the explanation is punctuated with him lazily flopping his hand back and forth in the air.

“If you want me to stop then just say so,” he finally insists. “Making you feel weird is pretty much the opposite of what I’m goin for here. Or, if it would help, I could do one of the others first.”

Worrying her lip, she looks over the other foals in consideration. A small smirk creeps across her lips that vanishes just as quickly as it came. The scent of anxiety fades and her normal one replaces it as she points her hoof towards the de-Cured pile. “Do Heavy,” she insists, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

Cure can’t keep the cringe off his face as he looks back and forth between her and the target of her request. “Heavy?” he echoes, snout scrunched in distaste. “I wasn’t going to do him or DC. I mean… I can, I guess, but -”

“You said it wasn’t romantic, so,” she trails off meaningfully with an expectant look.

Frowning, Cure folds his arms across his chest and demands, “Is this some kinda weird Neighponese colt-love thing?! Cause if it is then that ain’t my bag, lady.”

Her complete and total incomprehension answers the question for him. Head tilted to the side, she quietly sounds out, “Neighponese colt-love?” questioningly. Finally shaking the thought away, she explains, “I just thought it would be funny. He definitely wouldn’t expect it.”

“He wouldn’t,” Cure easily agrees. “But I don’t think I can get him over here without waking up Coast and Rising. Saph is the only other one who is kinda off to the side. I have food on the way, bee-tee-dubs, but…” he pauses and sighs, running a hand up his snout against the coarser hairs’ direction. The unusual sensation gives him pause for a second before he groans, “Ugh. This is getting more complicated than I’d hoped.”

“Sorry,” she quietly murmurs, ducking her head.

“No, no. It’s okay. I guess maybe this wasn’t the best thought out. Kinda has a bit too much of a creeper vibe to it, what with the bigger me, doesn’t it?”

“No!” she quickly insists, rapidly shaking her head. “It was a very sweet idea! You being,” she motions from his hooves to his head with a hoof, “isn’t a big deal. We’ve kind of gotten used to the whole ‘other bodies’ thing.”

“Ehh, if you say so. It seems like maybe I took it a little too far, though.”

“Maybe?” she squeaks out in agreement.

“Well… damn. Sorry I woke you up early for nothin, then.”

“I would normally be waking up soon anyhow.”

Cure regards the pile of foals for a moment, sighing again. “She’ll be raising the sun any second and I’m paying for the food right now, so how about we wake everypony up, let them all freshen up, eat, go over what I missed, and then we can do the whole makeover-slash-massage thing later.”

“Slash?”

“Uh. Sorry, it’s short for and and or at the same time.”

“Oooohhkay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, flicking a wing to the side. “I’m just ahead of the times, that’s all. My lingo is too fresh and hip for all you squares to understand.”

For some unknowable reason, the dark filly seems strangely unimpressed. With his plan somewhere between ruined and revised, Cure and Ferric rejoin the others on the bed, snuggling together until Celestia’s sun begins its ascent in the east.

His breakfast fetching puppet pauses to take in the sight, noting the slight pink hue haloing the golden sphere. Not only is the sunrise visually magnificent, but an indescribable warmth seems to soak into his very being at the sight. Knowing what was on the princess’s agenda last night, Cure can only interpret the morning’s extravagance as a sign that everything worked out well enough.

Like a switch has been flipped, the other foals begin to come to wakefulness. A parade of small ponies makes its way to the bathroom one by one, meanwhile Cure moves his spare bodies to the attic to be stored away. It’s only a few minutes later that the foals are all gathered at the table, cracking open the boxes to see what all he had brought them.

As opposed to most mornings, both Cherry and Lotus got up at the same time, sticking to their brother’s side at the dinner table. The herd had no more than gotten started when heavier hooffalls upstairs signal that at least two parents are up and moving. Once their bedroom door opens his aura shows his dam and mom coming out, the former carrying the twins on her back and the latter being left in the dust when Savvy shoots out from between her legs.

The filly’s little wings don’t stop fluttering as she dives down the steps, Title’s voice futily chasing behind her with a hissed, “No flying in the house!”

Both pegasi crack up at the scene of an earth pony mare ungracefully chasing her quasi-pegasus daughter down steps.

“So weird,” Drift idly comments. “Inside the house is exactly where most parents get their foals started flying.”

“Mhmm,” Heavy agrees, swallowing down an oversized bite of an eclair. “Mom said it’s a lot easier in a cloud house since you can rearrange everything and you won’t get hurt hitting clouds. And they’re more open. She got Summer and Fall started in the yard ‘cause there wasn’t enough room in our living room.”

By the time Heavy finishes, Savvy is nosing her way between Cure and Cherry on his right. He feels a little bad about letting her snake her way in, but Cherry doesn’t seem to mind scooting over for her.

He isn’t oblivious enough to miss the fact that he spoils her more than his oldest sisters, but fixing that is going to take some effort. As best he can figure, the only thing to do is include them whenever it seems appropriate to and, otherwise, let that bond establish itself naturally. They seem to like going on flights with him, and he can easily carry them both with an adult sized body, so maybe that would be a good way to spend some time together later. He resolves himself to talk to the mom squad about it when they’re all available. Amethyst probably wants to get in some dam-daughter time in once she’s had a few rounds with her first wife and husband, so maybe sometime in the afternoon would be better.

He pauses feeding the little filly some torn chunks of doughnut when a green foreleg wraps around his left side, firmly squeezing him into a familiar tuft of furry chest. Head cocked to the side to avoid goring his dam, he nuzzles his cheek into Vines’ neck, relishing her comforting scent. “Mornin, dam. Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” she gushes, leaning down to return the affection. “I’m not so sure having a body double around is a good idea when you’re gone.”

“What?” he asks, suddenly concerned. Glancing between her and the herd of foals he cautiously inquires, “Was there some kind of problem with the lieutenant?”

“It was a little weird having somepony look and act like you,” Dawn immediately comments, “but we didn’t have any problems at all.”

“Neither did we,” Title insists, loading up a plate for herself. “It was your dam that had the problem,” she teasingly adds, shooting Vines an accusatory look.

The sweet mare’s ears pin back and the scent of anxiety slams into the colt as her tail lashes angrily behind her. “She wasn’t you,” she huffs agitatedly, leaning more heavily against his back.

Cure rolls his eyes but presses more firmly into her chest, prodding at her neck with his snout. He mentally facehooves at the oversight; Vines always gets upset whenever he alters his own scent too much, so even with the “him” scented oils there must have been enough of a difference that it set off alarm bells in her head. Or, if it wasn’t the scent, it was simply knowing that the Cure-like foal was not really her own.

Between her strong reaction to him not quite being himself, Emerald Aura’s aversion to his Solar Strike clone during his demonstration, and the minor freakout everypony else has when he copies their appearance, he’s beginning to wonder if maybe there’s some kind of instinctual reaction involved. There are obviously creatures that can mimic ponies other than changelings, so it wouldn’t be too surprising to find that ponies evolved some kind of sense for detecting intruders well before changelings supposedly came along.

After all, the origin of the still elusive race doesn’t date back nearly far enough for them to have influenced pony evolution if they came about during Star Swirl’s time. Maybe beings with abilities like theirs have hunted ponies for tens of thousands of years. That brings up several other questions, though. What were they? How did ponies confirm their suspicion? Were they driven to extinction, or is there some other wolf out there amongst the sheep he’ll have to keep an eye out for?

“She was doin her job, dam. The important thing is was she convincing enough for everypony else to not suspect anything?”

Title pipes in before she can answer. “She was really good, actually. You can tell she’s done this before. I don’t think Savvy suspected a thing, in fact.”

“She played with us a lot!” Lotus excitedly adds. “We went to the park almost every day and she would chase us on the slide and push us on the swings!”

“Your dam went too,” Title interjects. “I don’t think any of us were completely comfortable letting her take them by herself, but your dam,” she says, directing a disappointed look at the green mare, “said she played with them really well.”

“She did,” Vines begrudgingly admits after a short pause.

“Awesome. How about with you all?” he asks, panning across the other foals. “How was she with you?”

“She was good,” Rising volunteers. “She did a pretty good job blending in. We went to lunch a couple times and met her at the park.”

“You could tell she wasn’t an earth pony,” Heavy adds. Cure cocks a brow in his direction and he clarifies, “She got tired after a while. We played frisbee and buckball and hoofball and ran around a lot. She had to take a few breaks.”

“Huh. I hadn’t considered that.”

“We went to Miller’s with her a few times, too,” Glacial adds.

As the conversation shifts back to the foals, Vines and Title finish gathering up some food and drinks for themselves, then retreat to the front living room to give the foals a modicum of privacy.

“Oh? How’d that go?”

“Fine,” she answers with a shrug. “Whenever we go out we use a Sound Bubble crystal, so we just did that.”

“She went to the art festival with us,” Heavy adds. “Said it would be good to be seen in Baltimare while you were gone. You probably would have liked it, too, dude. You should go with us next time they have one.”

Cure makes a face of disbelief, prompting Coast to explain, “Almost everypony was selling Serpentus stuff. Drawings, paintings, photos, metal sculptures, and any kind of trinket you can imagine, and it was selling like crazy.”

“Did you see the glassmaker?” Glacial excitedly asks. “She’s a unicorn and she was heating the glass and molding it in her aura right there at her booth! She had the most amazing little music boxes and cases and stuff!” She turns to Cure, literally bouncing in her seat. “I’ll show you the one I got later! It’s like the picture of us dancing on that boat!”

“Huh. That actually sounds kinda neat.”

“One stall had one of your feathers for sale. Supposedly,” Drift says, the disbelief plain to hear in her voice. “She had a little certificate saying it was authentic, but I know you only let the princess have a few to begin with.”

“It could be real. I pretty much assumed at least a few ponies would buy those toys just to resell them later,” he comments. “How much was it going for?”

“Dude, it was over ten thousand bits!” Heavy exclaims. “She was telling everypony that if they slept near it they would stay healthy for life. That isn’t true, is it?”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I friggin wish. If my feathers could heal ponies I could just send one to each hospital in the country and save myself the time farting with plants. That said, ten grand for a real alicorn feather is probably a steal. The princess incinerates hers and I don’t lose mine unless I want to, so there’s not a lot of them out there in the world.”

“I doubt anypony bought it,” Dawn chimes in. “Why bother when anypony that gets hurt can just come see you at the hospital whenever?”

“Eh, maybe somepony that doesn’t live here would go for it,” Cure suggests. “Somepony with a lot of extra bits lying around. Anyhow, my greatness on display at the festival aside,” he teases, smiling at the multiple eye rolls he earns, “did you notice anypony staring or giving you odd looks when you were out with her in town? The whole point was for me to be seen here while Serpentus was away, after all.”

Heavy shrugs, but every filly at the table bobs their head and confirms they did draw some looks. “Good. Maybe I can put the whole ‘I am Serpentus’ thing to bed this week. The princess gave me… well, an assignment,” he lightly growls the word out.

Not waiting for them to ask for details, he explains, “Corporal Rico, the chestnut unicorn with a red mane, mentioned the Broccoloid thing in front of her, so now Prince Serpentus has to go around all of the farms in the area and check the crops to make sure we’re not accidentally eating sentient vegetables. I may head to Carol later today to make arrangements. Or, I guess I could just go after my shift tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Drift calls out, grinning from ear to ear, “she knows that was you?!”

“Of course she does.”

“How?!”

“Because I had to tell her about the rings the first day I was there.”

“Why?” Dawn asks, genuinely curious why Cure would disclose their existence.

“Because she knows I’m too paranoid to have trusted a bodyguard that she’s never heard of before.”

“So wait,” Drift jumps back in, body shaking with barely suppressed laughter, “the princess knows you’re so nuts that she guessed you were pulling some kind of trick?”

Chuckles and stifled laughter are the only sound as Cure stares impassively at the purple pegasus.

“I’m not nuts,” he grumbles in answer.

The dam breaks as the other foals all burst out laughing at his plight. Donning a mighty pout doesn’t seem to help at all. If anything, the sullen expression cracks them up further as they bask in his misery. Even his little sisters join in, with Savvy giggling and clapping her forehooves with everypony else.

“... buncha brats,” he grumbles, forelegs folded across his chest.

It takes a moment for the laughter to die down, after which he gives a more detailed explanation of his plan.

“... so once I know what day ‘His Highness’ will be making the rounds, we’ll plan to meet him downtown or something. I dunno. Maybe I’ll have a meet and greet at Town Hall or whatever.”

“Do it in front of the Post,” Coast suggests. “Prince Serpentus already knows the guards here, and you’re the coltfriend of two… well, three since both of your parents are guards,” she amends, nodding to Crosswind before continuing, “of their daughters. That’ll give you an excuse to be there, too. Also, lots of ponies know you helped them train for the competition.”

“That’s… brilliant, DC!” he enthusiastically agrees. “I bet I can arrange for a photographer to be present, too. Oh! I know!” he shouts, almost climbing out of his seat. “The fall season is coming up soon! I’ll put the word out that I’m doing health checks for any mares or stallions that are hoping to have foals! I’ll have to hit the other suburbs, too, but I can do that while you all are in school. Tia said to get this done before the end of the month, so maybe I can start next week! That’ll be perfect!”

“Ugh,” Rising groans, head dropping onto the table. The sudden, unexpected change in her demeanor gets more than a few curious looks. “My dam hasn’t stopped talking about it,” she whines, face pinched in disgust.

“Yeah, the less said about that the better,” he agrees, hoping to quickly change the subject away from his sire pounding a foal into her dam. He still isn’t sure why Vines agreed to it, but he supposes there’s not really a good reason not to if Deed is okay with the arrangement. The stallion won’t be expected to actually be a father to the foal, but he has a hard time imagining him being completely uninvolved, also.

Then again, there already is a connection between their families via Cure and Rising, so assuming they don’t separate in the coming years it shouldn’t really make a difference. Compared to the other single dams amongst his friends, Crisp Script seems to be the most financially successful, so it’s unlikely she would ever need support. Even if she did, the family earns enough that it wouldn’t be a problem in the least to help out on occasion.

Cure makes a mental note to inquire as to whether or not his sire will be taking any of the many, many contract requests that they’ve received via Brick, as well. They don’t really need the money anymore, but Deed is the very epitome of a healthy, virile stallion; there’s no reason he shouldn’t be out there knocking up as many mares as will have him unless that’s just not something he’s super keen on. He certainly didn’t object to being the worm wiggling around inside of Miss Apple, so Cure doubts the stallion will be opposed to it.

“Moving on,” he deftly continues, “is there anything important that happened in regards to you all while I was away?”

Dawn gives a half shrug before speaking up, “I got another letter from Solar. He said he sent you one this time, too, so it’s probably with all your other mail.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “I have a stack in my work room I haven’t opened. I’ll have to take a look. From what Director Stormsurge said he’s doing great. Everything’s good on his end, I’m guessing?”

“Mhmm!” she enthusiastically nods. “My parents are talking about going up to Chicoltgo to visit him sometime around Nightmare Night.”

The colt’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to ask if she means that weekend, but she anticipates his question and is already shaking her head no. “Not that weekend. Either before or after. We’ll be in town for,” she trails off, flicking her eyes towards the front of the house.

“Good. Still, I wouldn’t mind going with if yer parents were cool with it, but,” he trails off with a sigh.

“You already travel a lot,” she understandingly agrees, “and between January, then next school year…”

“Right,” he begrudgingly acknowledges.

“It’s okay,” she assures him. “He knows you’re busy.”

“You’re busier than any five foals I know,” Glacial adds.

“Alright. I’ll at least write him back. Maybe we can send him a goodie box or something, too.”

Drift leans close to Glacial and whispers in her ear, “I’m pretty sure Starlight’s taking him one of those,” then bursts out in giggles. Glacial, seeing how Cure gives her a look of exasperation, blushes a deep red on her cheeks and quickly breaks eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices how Dawn is shooting the older pegasus an unimpressed scowl.

Heavy, Harmony bless his naivety, perks up and asks, “Oh, Starlight’s going too?” A dopey grin spreads across his muzzle and he says, “She’s got a really pretty coat.” Everypony stares at the gray colt for a moment before dismissing him entirely. Interestingly as far as Cure is concerned, Delta Coast didn’t seem to be showing any signs of jealousy. If anything she gives a shallow nod of agreement before moving on.

“Right. Well, I think she’s taken, bro, but hey, there’s plenty of fish in the sea and all that.”

“We know a filly at school you might like,” Glacial helpfully suggests.

The other colt perks up, ears standing at attention. “A pegasus?”

“Duh?” Drift mocks, waving her left wing meaningfully. She turns to Glacial and cocks a brow, asking, “Do you think she’s into earth ponies?”

The lighter filly shrugs and inclines her head in thought. “I don’t know?” she answers with a questioning lilt. “You know who I’m talking about, right?”

“Dreamwave?” Drift replies. “She’s the only one his age with about the same color.”

“Right. I’ve never really talked to her much, but I know she had a crush on Cloudbreaker.”

Drift nods in acceptance and gives Heavy an evaluating look. After a moment of consideration she shrugs and concedes, “Maybe. Cloud is pretty thick for a pegasus, so maybe she’s into bigger colts.”

“I’ll say something next time I see her,” Glacial resolutely decides. She looks to Coast with a raised brow, asking, “Assuming that’s okay with you?”

The blue filly bobs her head in acceptance, saying, “As long as she’s nice. I wouldn’t mind meeting her.”

“Well… that was fascinating to witness,” Cure teasingly begins, “but -”

“OH!” Drift shouts, wings splaying out, “We got contacted by somepony from the Wonderbolts!”

“What? What for? Are you being scouted or something?! You’re awfully young-”

“No, moron! The freaking flight suits!”

Eagerness on full display, Cure perks up even more, leaning heavily against the table in anticipation. “No way! They want to buy flight suits from you?!” Both fillies cringe and slowly shake their heads to the negative, leaving him thoroughly confused. “Okay, then what the hay are you talking about?”

“She asked us to stop selling suits with a lightning bolt on them,” Drift grows, crossing her forelegs over her chest. “That’s what we sell more of than anything! The ffffuu” her eyes flick to the three younger foals sitting on Cure’s sides, “fudgeface said if we keep selling suits with their logo they may have to sue us!”

“What?! That’s bullhonk! They don’t own a trademark on a freaking lightning bolt!” he exclaims, thumping his right hoof on the table. He waves a foreleg in Glacial’s direction, asking, “What, does your sire owe them a bit every time he causes it to storm?!”

“She wasn’t being mean about it,” Glacial placatingly explains, resting a hoof on Drift’s withers to calm the more aggressive filly. “She said that they have a lot of ponies using designs similar to their own and that if they don’t pursue all of them then they can’t go after any of them.”

Cure blows out a long sigh, nodding along in understanding. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t know how that stuff works, but I’m familiar with the concept. We’ll just have to come up with a design that’s different enough that they’ll leave us alone. It shouldn’t be too hard to do; Harmony knows there’s more than enough designs in nature I could copy. I’m guessing you haven’t been approached by any bluebirds threatening to sue?” he jests, meeting Drift’s eyes.

“No, but that still sucks! Can’t you tell them to leave you alone? They report to you, don’t they?”

“That’s one of the very few things Celestia said I can’t do before I even agreed to the whole prince thing. I can’t use the crown for my own gain, and commanding the Wonderbolts, or their attorneys, I guess, to bugger off is close enough to count. Besides, I’m going to all the trouble of separating Cure Wave from Serpentus. I definitely don’t want to do something that links them together.”

The purple filly clearly doesn’t like the answer, but aside from some pouting she doesn’t argue the point any further.

“You might have a letter from them, too,” Glacial apologetically explains. “She said she had to know who was making the suits. I ended up giving her the address for your office.”

“Alright. Lemon probably put it in the massive stack of crap I need to go through.” Next, Cure looks between the earth ponies, specifically Delta Coast and Sapphire Sprint since they mostly manage the next topic of discussion. “Anything new in the plushie business?”

Coast, instead of answering, waves a hoof to Sapphire to go ahead. The aqua filly bounces in her seat, excitedly bobbing her head. “My dam and I met with that pony you made look like you!” She pauses for a moment, pawing at her chin in consideration before she continues, “Well, not you, you, but other you, who I guess is still you, but not really you. You know what I mean?”

“On brief, fleeting occasions, yes,” he flatly agrees.

Unbothered by his sarcastic response, she chipperly exclaims, “Great! That’s what I love about ya, Cutey Wave! Always so quick on the uptake! Anywho-you-how, dam told Mr. Piece about how you use your talent to make them and he was SUPER DUPER excited to have them in his store! He told dam he’d lease us a section of shelving in his store for half price for the first six months!”

“He’s not just buying and reselling them?”

“Nope!” she exclaims, popping the P at the end. “He says his business model is different from most stores and this way encourages toy makers to come up with new ideas!”

“I guess it would be less risky for him, too, since he gets paid either way. How much is a shelf normally?”

“A hundred bits per month for a twelve hooves across and four high!”

“I have no idea if that’s a good deal or not,” Cure admits. “I guess it depends where in the store it is. Either way, though, giving us a three hundred bit discount is kinda chintzy compared to how much I saved him by finishing his procedure more quickly.”

“It’s right near the front! They’ll be one of the first dolls anypony that walks in sees!”

For a split second, Cure looks as if he’s swallowed something foul. “They’re not dolls,” he indignantly huffs, even though he knows they are.

Unbothered by his tone, Sapphire immediately fires back. “Sure they are! They’re just super soft and squeezy fluffy dolls! What else could they possibly be?!”

Defensively, he answers, “I prefer cuddle toys.”

“They’re dolls,” Dawn seconds.

“Definitely dolls,” Drift agrees. “Who ever thought a big, strong colt like you could be so good at making little dollies? Isn’t that adoooorable?!” she gushes, exaggeratedly swooning.

“Don’t forget, he’s an amazing seamstress, too!” Sapphire sing-songs, giggling at the scowl he sends her.

Ferric looks confused for a moment, softly asking the table, “Isn’t seamstress only for mares?”

“Et tu, Red?” the stricken colt cries. She clearly fails to understand the reference, looking to the others for a hint. “It’s from a piece of classic literature. It translates as ‘and you’ but is associated with betrayal, but I’m just teasing with you. And a stallion is a seamster, which I am not. There just happens to be a billion ways I can apply my talent. Like the aforementioned plushies that are an entirely different category of toys from dolls,” he sternly declares.

“Regardless if they are dolls or not, this is a big opportunity,” Coast cuts back in. “Those will get seen by a lot more ponies in his store than they would here in town.”

“Okay, but who is going to be making the deliveries and stocking the shelves? If we’re just leasing it, I’m guessing that keeping it full is our responsibility, right?”

“He knows we’re all foals, so he said his staff can stock the shelf if we can’t come regularly. As for delivering the dolls,” she emphasizes the word, allowing herself a small smile when his lip curls, “they don’t weight much and don’t need packing material, so we’re just going to ship them through the mail if one of our dams-”

“Or my mom,” Heavy interjects. “She said she could run them over if she’s free.”

“-right, or his mom, isn’t available.” his fillyfriend agrees. “Or, maybe, if we could find somepony who is going to Baltimare a couple times per week already.”

Cure stares on impassively.

“Somepony that could disguise himself as a delivery pony,” she continues, smiling expectantly as she leans further and further in his direction and stares directly into his eyes. “It sure would be nice if we had somepony like that, wouldn’t it? A big, strong stallion willing to lend a hoof…”

“That would be convenient. Shame I can’t think of anypony.”

“Cure?” Rising pleadingly calls. Knowing full well he’ll regret doing so, Cure leans forward to look down the table at her, finding big, soulful, watery eyes and a quivering lip. “Please? It would only take you a minute.”

“Maker damn it,” he sighs, admitting defeat.

“Language!” his dam scolds from the front of the house.

“Oh, please! Like Amy has never cursed around them!”

“Mommy never says bad words,” Cherry faux innocently insists.

“Mhmm! She’s gonna scrub your tongue with soap when she wakes up,” Lotus agrees.

“The laugh’s on her then. I think soap is delicious!” he exclaims, sticking said tongue out at one, then the other. “Besides, it’s more likely she’ll be scrubbin the both’a you than paying me any mind today. Harmony knows she’s had enough of me for a while.” Neither filly seems at all perturbed by the prospect of spending time with the mare.

Cure hadn’t even considered that the last two weeks are probably the longest she’s ever been separated from her foals in their entire lives. A hint of guilt wells up in his gut for keeping her away from her babies for so long. It would be different if he’d spent the entire time working, but the competition portion of his trip was originally planned as a vacation, more or less.

“I’ll make the deliveries,” the colt grumbles, turning back to the other foals, “but there are three things I want you to keep in mind here. First, my capacity for production is limited, especially during the winter months because of the lack of sunlight.”

That may not be wholly accurate, he is aware. While the vast majority of his power is derived from photosynthesis via his plant, he may be able to massively increase his solar collection by spreading to the ocean. If he can do so then his production capacity may very well be just shy of infinite. There is a limit, of course, but he can’t fathom what it could possibly be.

Unfortunately, he isn’t familiar enough with the local ecosystem to know what unpredictable impact there could be. Merponies may be a thing, he is aware, and he would prefer not to learn they exist by having one show up at City Hall demanding to know what ponies are doing intruding into their domain. Additional reconnaissance is needed before he can go hog wild.

He could kick himself for not sending a body around Canterlot to gather more crystals, but between Early’s and his upcoming Filly trip he should be able to stock up just the same. He still has plenty of gold left, but the crystals aren’t cheap. It’s a good thing he turned a tidy profit in Canterlot, even if he got screwed out of over a third on a technicality.

“Sunlight?” Heavy questions.

“Sure. The materials I’m using are coming from a plant. Less sun, less rain, less heat, less growth. Second, this whole enterprise, as it is right now, is temporary,” he emphasizes. “I will not always be able to commit time, which it doesn’t take much right now, granted, to making plushies for you all to sell. If you plan on this being a long term source of income then I’ll need to make it so one or all of you can interface with the plant that creates everything, which isn’t possible right now as I’m primarily using my talent to cheat.”

He gives them all a moment to process that explanation. Once he gets some understanding nods back from the group he continues, “Lastly, I hope you are not taking this as a lesson on how real world economics work. Nopony - and I mean nopony - but a very good friend would produce a product and provide shipping while only taking a twenty percent cut. I don’t need the money!” he’s quick to blurt out before they have the chance to insist he take more, “but just keep in mind that if you ever end up in a sales job like this has kind of become for you, ten to fifteen percent is probably the most you could expect from a commission.”

He feels a little bad about raining on their parade. Heavy, Coast, Sapphire, and Rising look and smell like they feel guilty for taking advantage of him, so he once again reassures them that he doesn’t see it like that.

“Don’t feel bad,” Drift finally remarks, “after all, he was making big bits during his little trip.” She gives him a predatory smile and leans almost her entire upper body on the table, asking, “Or should I say ‘Madame Adiah’ was making big bits, hmmmmmm?”

A thick silence settles on the room.

“I… have no idea what you’re talkin about,” he poorly lies, completely failing to hide the surprise of being called out. “I never met the mare.”

“Uh huh,” the filly mockingly agrees. “I’m sure it was just a coincidence that somezebra nopony has ever heard of before happened to show up right where you were and was selling the same, exact things you did for our parents. What are the odds, I wonder.”

“Well it was my fourth trip to Canterlot, so twenty-five percent?” he suggests.

“Come off it,” she demands. “We all know this wasn’t a coincidence. I wonder how many mares are carrying colt twins in the capital right now.”

Cure chews his lip as he surveys the room. Most of the other foals are dutifully avoiding meeting his eyes, which means they probably discussed this before his return. Adiah’s services did end up in several newspapers, so it shouldn’t surprise him that word got back to Golden Hills and that the ponies most aware of his abilities put two and two together. His mom’s quiet snickering from the living room doesn’t exactly help, nor do his dam’s attempts to shush her.

“I… uhh,” he haltingly begins. “If I had anything to do with that, my understanding is that her prices for those treatments were very reasonable.”

“Those treatments,” she barely gets out between bouts of laughter. “What about the other treatments she was offering, hmmm?” Lowering her voice so his dam and mom can’t hear, or so she thinks, she lists, “Muscle strengthening for easier foalbirth? Male enhancement to increase the chances of conception?”

Aside from the filly herself, there’s not a single cheek amongst his friends that isn’t burning bright red with embarrassment.

“... Shut up, Drift,” he mumbles, barely holding back the blush that threatens to creep up his neck as well. The filly absolutely loses it, falling backwards off her bench and rolling on the floor. Some sympathetic, but incredibly uncomfortable titters escape the others. They only worsen the colt’s desire to find a nice, quiet spot to curl up and die. Unfortunately, even that’s not an option since, even if he could die of embarrassment, according to Celestia he would be back within an hour anyhow.

He can at least take comfort in the fact that they’re not asking about any other “zebra shaman” hijinks he may have been involved in. While it may bring them some comfort to know the lengths he’s willing to go to in order to protect them, he’s not sure how they would feel knowing he broke into a secure compound, drugged and threatened an ambassador, and pretended to crawl down his wife’s throat before escaping.

The zebras mostly kept a lid on that fiasco, probably out of embarrassment as much as anything. The chase the next morning wasn’t even in the papers since nopony got hurt and the Guard was only involved for a few seconds before he fled the scene.

A poke on his left side draws his attention to his darkest colored sister. She looks up to her big brother with those sweet, innocent eyes and asks, “Who is Madame Adiah? Is she a fillyfriend from Canterlot?”

Dawn somehow manages to choke on air, devolving into a coughing mess off to his right side.

“No, Lotus. She’s just a zebra that had a shop near where me and your dam were staying.”

“Oh. Good. Mommy showed us the pictures of you with the fillies. She said you need to slow down because it’s not a competition. What’d she mean by that?”

Mumbled agreements sound out around the table, much to his dismay. “Those are just some fillies I met while I was watching the guards compete. They are just friends,” he insists, looking around the table challengingly.

Cherry pokes his other side, waiting until he turns her way to ask, “What about all the fillies you danced with? Are they your fillyfriends now, too?”

“No! They’re just the daughters of the other guards that were there. Dancing with them wasn’t even my idea! Y’all can blame Celestia for that! I didn’t get a say in it at all.”

“You didn’t look too upset about it, either,” Rising deadpans.

“It was fun,” he admits, deciding the truth is the better route. “I’m guessing you all saw the special edition that the Chronicle ran?” Every single one of them nods in response, which isn’t a surprise at all.

Said special edition was primarily about the competition and its results, supposedly, but in reality it was just another way for the papers to make money. Needless to say, pictures of the royals - especially the still new alicorn colt - sell a whole lot better than a bunch of guards most folks will never meet. As a result, he ended up showing up in more pictures than anypony; not necessarily because he has anywhere near the following Celestia does, but because he interacts with the public far, far more than she has the time or desire to.

Hopefully this morning’s extra glorious sunrise is evidence that she’s beginning to form connections with common ponies more since he’s come on the scene.

At their confirmation he continues, “Then if you read the article, you saw the quote where I said I was just as surprised as all of the fillies. Mom’ll back me up on that. Once everything was in motion I could hardly act like a petulant brat about it. It was fun for me, but those fillies dancing with an alicorn prince in the Royal Castle was a once in a lifetime event.” Weakly shrugging, he drives home the point, “Not giving it my all would have been a total jerk move.”

His argument seems to mollify them; all of them nod in understanding even if they’re not completely thrilled that he spent a whole evening dancing after arguing against doing exactly that at the Gala only a few weeks prior.

“Alright. Moving on,” he begins, halting when Glacial raises a hoof in the air.

“Just to be clear, our parents think she was working for you. They still don’t know about your portal things.”

Drift nods in agreement, adding, “Daddy said he thought she was an earth pony whose coat you changed.”

“Huh. I guess he is technically correct. I suppose I’d rather have them assume I’m working with somepony else on that one.”

“Better than thinking it was you,” Dawn agrees. “I’m just glad my dam hasn’t asked me about it.”

“I don’t expect you to lie to your parents for me,” he insists. “It may be best to say something vague like it’s related to my talent or whatever.”

“Or I’ll tell her you’ve asked us not to say anything about it. You are a prince, she knows you’ll have to keep some things secret.”

Cure shrugs and bobs his head in acceptance. “Works for me.”

“How much did you make?” All eyes snap to Drift at her blunt question.

“A lot. I have several tens of thousands of bits in rolls of smaller denominations that I’ll have to deal with. It’ll take months for me to get it all deposited without raising questions about where it came from.”

Ferric speaks up, suggesting, “Couldn’t you deposit it when you get back from Filly? Enough ponies have seen your ad. They’ll be expecting a big deposit, I bet.”

“Not this big, but I could probably get rid of a decent chunk of it.”

“Wait,” the darker pegasus cuts back in, “you have over a hundred thousand bits? Here? In this house?!”

In lieu of answering, Cure ignites his horn, Teleporting a large trunk into the kitchen just a meter behind Rising’s back and throwing open the lid. Crosswind abandons the last few bites of her doughnut, scrambling to get a look inside. Curiosity gets the better of the other foals, including his sisters, and in only a few seconds only Cure and Savvy are still at the table.

Drift picks up roll after roll to inspect them, feeling more and more faint as she finds larger denominations. Her eyes are soon attracted to the largest coins in the trunk, the ones worth a thousand bits each. She reverently picks up a roll and holds it between her forehooves, sitting on her rear completely gobsmacked.

“Fifty thousand bits,” she breathily whispers.

Heavy isn’t much better off. The colt is awestruck, just standing there staring into the trunk like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, don’t go getting too attached to that roll, Drift,” Cure teases from the table. Unbidden, mental images of dozens of fully erect stallions being stimulated by his magic’s presence rush to the forefront of his mind. He stares unblinkingly off into the distance, barely holding back a full body shudder. “Maker knows I earned every one of those bits,” he quietly grouses.

“It’s kinda weird,” Rising observes. “It’s enough to buy a nice house, but when it’s all bundled up like that it barely even seems like real money.”

“Seems real enough to me,” Drift insists, nuzzling the roll of thousands against her cheek. The way she closes her eyes and sighs is a little strange, but he can’t be sure he wouldn’t have done the same thing only a short year ago.

“I don’t know why you’re gushing over that,” he grumbles. “I know you’ve made a tidy profit off of the suit sales.”

“Yeah, but seeing it all at once…” she drifts off, staring into the box.

“And that’s after taxes. The big white bully wouldn’t extend my exemption,” he grumpily pouts, “so that’s only a little over two-thirds of the total. Speaking of which, I hope you’ve all been keeping track of everything. The end of the quarter is just a couple weeks away. It’s best to just turn in everything as soon as possible.”

“My dam has ours ready,” Glacial answers, bumping shoulders with Drift.

“Dawn, how about you? Your first quarter payment is due in a couple weeks.”

The filly’s muzzle crinkles at the reminder, but she begrudgingly nods. “Daddy made me set money aside from the get-go.”

“Cool. How are you on supplies? I’m already planning on stocking up in Filly, so…”

“Good for now.”

“Get more dust,” Drift requests. “We need some for a few suit orders. Dust and maybe some cheaper crystals for Warming since winter isn’t too far away.”

“Can you add that to the dolls, too?” Coast requests. “Maybe something that parents can turn on to warm them up for a foal?”

“That’s a good idea, but it’ll raise the price,” he points out.

“Only by about thirty bits for the dust and a low crystal,” Dawn argues.

“Yeah, but you’re talking about increasing the price by over half again.”

“Then only do a few to start and see if they sell,” she immediately retorts.

Cure ponders the suggestion for a moment before he shrugs and agrees to try it out. “Fine, but charge double. I’ll make a cardboard box with a cellophane window and we’ll market them as a premium product. We’ll mark them down from there if they don’t sell. Y’all are lucky your production costs are essentially zero.”

“Unlike your cosmetic business, what with all the materials you go through,” Coast challengingly points out.

Cure blows out a sigh and turns to the only other colt in the room. “Bro, I’m gonna need you to do a better job controlling your fillyfriend. She’s speaking out of turn again.”

A half dozen jaws drop open and stare in shock. Heavy, showing wisdom beyond his years, takes a big step back to get out of the line of fire. Title climbs to her hooves and trots over to the colt, scooping Savvy off the bench and retreating back to the living room. “He’s all yours, ladies,” she calls over her withers. “Have at ‘em.”

“I’m teasing!” he cries out, hooves held up in surrender before any of them pounce. “Besides, if you beat me up now then how am I supposed to give you all makeovers once we’re done?”

“You’ll heal,” Coast menacingly growls.

“Physically,” he agrees, “but mentally? Who knows. I’d hate to accidentally put a big yellow stripe through your mane because I’m so traumatized and whatnot.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” the filly shouts, scandalized at the very notion.

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m teasing. Jeez. Look, if y’all wanna roughhouse some, that’s fine, but -”

“Outside!” his dam shouts from the living room.

“- Right, but three things to keep in mind: I cheat, I will tickle you, and I can tell if you’re actually about to pee yourself or if you’re just faking it.”

Despite the threat of using underhooved tactics, Cure was summarily dragged out of the house and pounced upon by the other foals. While it didn’t go well for them at first, numbers ultimately won out since he just didn’t have it in him to abuse his talent. He also didn’t want to be seen outside with a horn and wings, so with his mobility and versatility hindered it didn’t take long for them to dogpile him.

They are all perfectly aware that he could have easily outrun them or won a dozen different ways, but that would have ruined his fun. The herd of foals only spent a short while running around and playing before returning to his house to get cleaned up and enjoy their promised massages and grooming sessions.

The group showering was still a little uncomfortable for him, and he spent more time telling himself to think like a pony than he did really enjoying himself. He got through the experience just fine, though, even if he did notice the girls taking the opportunity to check both him and Heavy out a little. Even if there’s no sexual attraction at their ages, they still have curiosity in abundance.

Coast, Rising, Sapphire, and Ferric were the ones he caught the most, while Dawn was the only one that didn’t seem to pay any attention to the colts. Cure isn’t sure whether it’s a maturity thing or if she was secretly checking them both out with her horn’s aura the whole time.

As much as he would like to insist he didn’t pay the fillies any mind, he can’t deny that Drift and Glacial caused him to stop and stare briefly when they were preening each other’s wings after washing up. Heavy wasn’t any better; despite his best efforts not to gawk, he is a male, and two pretty fillies his age with their faces buried in each other’s plumage isn’t something he gets to see every day.

With the lieutenant due to arrive around eleven o’clock, Cure didn’t have time to give each foal the full massage experience, even when he used a clone so he could give them two at a time. That wasn’t a problem, per se, since he didn’t want to leave them zonked out of their minds for the rest of the morning.

The makeovers themselves were even quicker since it only takes a moment for him to alter somepony’s coat. Crosswind wanted to keep her bluebird pattern, but asked for a blend of her coat’s purples to be added to her mane and tail. Ferric had previously declined anything at all, but asked for him to add her coat’s deep red to the tips of both her tail and mane. It created a subtle “fire touched” effect, especially after he brushed and oiled her coat until it had a brilliant sheen.

Whether it be out of a desire to try something new, or if he thought it may increase his chances with the filly Drift and Glacial had discussed, Heavy asked for a four pointed star in his mane’s dark blue to be added onto his chest. The longer arms reach up his neck and down onto his belly while the shorter two follow the curve of his chest just above his shoulders.

Dawn’s request was a little more comprehensive. Perhaps inspired by her Nightmare Night ensemble, she asked for her coat’s lighter orange to fade to red as it rises up from her hooves, blending near seamlessly with her mane and tail’s crimson as it reaches her back. He adds a few streaks of yellow to her tail, matching the ones he'd given her mane last year.

Coast tried a few different patterns, including having Cure give her “socks” that he thought were a bad idea, at least on a filly of her age. Really, he's not sure if he would ever suggest something like that, even for an adult. He is yet to hear a vagina referred to as a pink sock in this life, but it wouldn't take any great wit to come up with. Fortunately for his mental wellbeing, the pink they started out with would not fade well into her blue, so she abandoned the idea after a few tries. Cure suggested darkening her coat like Dawn had, but she ultimately decided to leave well enough alone.

Sapphire and Rising declined any changes, though the latter said she would probably hit him up for temporary ones when she has a performance. That only left Glacial, who hadn’t had anything done last time around. At Cure’s insistence that it would look great, she allowed him to add a hint of blue to the end of each of her primary and secondary feathers. It created a wave pattern across her wings that, when struck by the sun, glistened like rows of sapphire dust.

The foals are just finishing showing off to his parents when a knock draws their attention to the front door. Deed, being the closest, opens it to an unfamiliar earth pony mare with a messenger bag looped around her neck. “Well howdy, miss. What can I do ya for?”

“It’s me,” the lieutenant responds in her own voice, glancing past the stallion to the collection of foals. “I’m here to brief his highness before heading back. Is this a good time?”

“As good ‘a time as any, el-tee,” Cure responds as he approaches. “Come on in and head to my office and I’ll be with you in a sec.”

“Yes, sir!” she chirps, stepping into the house. Instead of going down the hallway, she plops down on her rump and pulls the satchel over her head. “Per her majesty, I have a delivery for Mrs. Vines,” she says, holding it out in offering to the green mare.

A twinge of worry creeps up Cure’s spine as his dam accepts the package. She begins to flip open the cover when Lt. Shift clears her throat. “Apologies, ma’am, but her majesty suggested you review its contents in a more…” she pauses, glancing meaningfully at the herd of foals, “private setting.”

“What’s in it?” Cure curiously inquires, eyes darting back and forth between her and the package.

“Haven’t the foggiest, sir. My orders were to place it directly into Lady Vines’ hooves. I suspect it to be correspondence directly from her majesty, but as far as its contents? I wouldn’t presume to speculate.”

“Ohhkaay,” he nervously acquiesces, turning his attention back to the foals. “I’ll have to get with you all later. I don’t think we’ll be too long, so maybe we can get together again after lunch?” After a quick round of hugs and nuzzles, the foals all make their way out of the house. Cure leads the lieutenant back to his room, pausing to cast one more glance towards the huddle of parents as Vines begins looking over the satchel’s contents.

“You can drop the disguise if you’d prefer, as well as any formalities while it’s just us,” he tells her, waving a hoof to a newly formed couch. She hesitates for only a moment before doing so and making herself comfortable. “So,” he begins, casually jumping on one of his own and flopping to his side, “I spoke to my friends already, as you no doubt guessed, and I’m quite pleased with their accounting of your performance.

“Aside from my dam’s grumbling about somepony taking my place, my parents didn’t have anything negative to say either. And don’t worry about her; I get the impression it’s some maternal instinct kicking off, not anything you did or did not do.”

“That’s good to hear, sir. May I assume you have already reviewed my notes?”

Allowing his embarrassment to show by sheepishly pinning back his ears, Cure slowly shakes his head. “Apologies, lieutenant. I’ve spent the last twelve hours primarily enjoying my friends’ company. I have neither read your report, not have I gone through the stacks of mail awaiting both my identities.”

Snout scrunched in distaste, the colt looks towards the door and admits, “I have a sneaking suspicion I may have the remainder of the day to deal with paperwork, depending on what the boss lady put in that letter.”

The mare cocks a single brow in question.

“Let’s just say I may have misbehaved a tiny bit during my trip.”

“Everything in the papers was glowing, sir.”

Cure chuckles warmly, saying, “Give me some credit, lieutenant. I can at least control myself in public.”

“... There was one article about a disagreement you had with a chef.”

He cranes his neck up to meet her eyes, scowling. “That idiot had it coming! I wouldn’t let a dog eat anything that came out of that kitchen! Not in the state it was, at least.”

“Understood, sir.”

The colt blows out a sigh, flopping boneless back down on the couch. “Anyhow, I’ll review everything you left me in detail. Is there anything urgent I need to be aware of?”

“Only one thing comes to mind. A mare from the Wonderbolt’s Brand Management Department came by your office Wednesday morning.”

“Yeah, she apparently found Glacial and Drift first. The whole lightning bolt thing, right?”

“Exactly. She didn’t seem to believe you are the creator of the suits at first until your mother, Lemon, intervened. If I may make a suggestion, it may be a lot easier to stop making the suits with that design. I understand their offices to be quite litigious when defending their trademark.”

“No worries there, el-tee. I already planned to give in. I doubt it’ll impact sales too much, and that’s not a large enough chunk of my income to fight it. Plus I really don’t need the attention. Maker knows I have enough on my plate as is,” he grumbles with a huff.

“I’ve noticed, sir. Aside from that, nothing of note came up. I do have a question about your schedule, though.”

“My schedule?”

“Yes, sir. I noticed that you have appointments booked during your shifts at the hospital. I was under the impression I was no longer needed after today, but,” she trails off when he rolls to his barrel and shakes his head no.

“Don’t worry about that. I have made alternative arrangements. I’ll only need your help again when I’m going to be out of town for an extended period.”

The mare nods in acceptance, but Cure can tell she is curious as to what the alternative arrangements may be. When it becomes clear that no further explanation is coming she decides to move on. “Understood, sir.”

Cure rolls his eyes and gives the mare a flat look. Climbing down off his couch, he trots over and hops onto hers, prompting her to sit up. He offers her a hoof and says, “You can call me Cure, lieutenant. You spent the last couple weeks being me, and according to my friends and my parents you did a really good job.”

The mare gives him a genuine smile, reaching out and tapping his hoof. “It was a pleasure, Cure. Can’t say I’ve gotten to run around and play on many assignments before this one. It was kind of refreshing, and I even caught up on some reading while I was maring your office.”

“Good deal! Now, if I’m not mistaken you have a train to catch in Baltimare at one, right?”

“I do.”

“Cool. Go ahead,” he says, waving to the door as it pulls itself open, “get yourself some lunch before you head out. Oh, and as I understand it, the royal car is headed back to Canterlot, so,” he pauses, Teleporting a scroll into the air and passing it to the mare, “it will need somepony to guard it on the way, won’t it?”

“Sir! Yes, sir!”

“Awesome. You have your orders, then. Take care, lieutenant, and I’ll see you again after the new year.”

Knowing full well what she is likely trotting into, Celestia takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out before she takes the odd, sideways step into the astral realm. She had felt the younger alicorn’s presence only a moment prior, and figured it may be best not to let him stew too long before making her appearance.

To the mare’s surprise, the normally serene atmosphere has taken a more ominous appearance. Rather than the typical bright, fluffy clouds lazily drifting about, a hint of gray mars their appearance and they are moving much more quickly than normal. It’s not difficult to discern why; the young alicorn colt is lying on his barrel in the center of the clearing, his head snapped in her direction as soon as she arrived.

It’s only during these visits to the astral that she gets to see the colt in his true colors. Though there is nothing wrong with the brown and gold of his Serpentus disguise, she much prefers the brighter, more vibrant blues and greens he keeps during these meetings.

Of course, his appearance at the moment isn’t exactly the norm. Upon a closer look, it is impossible to ignore the flecks of green drifting from his mane and tail, not to mention the more subtle chocolatey glow hidden behind his eyes.

“Good evening, Cure Wave,” she greets, lying on her barrel just opposite the colt.

“Evenin, boss,” he replies, his warm voice contrasting starkly to his visage. “I couldn’t help but notice the sunrise this morning,” he begins with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m assuming everything went well last night?”

That… is worrying. She had been prepared to deal with an irate colt cursing her or, at least, being more curt than normal. That he is doing such an excellent job acting normal despite the obvious seething anger is not something she would expect from one of her little ponies. Not, at least, without several years of experience or the use of a special talent in acting.

“It did. There was some awkwardness, of course, but aside from the first hour or so of disbelief, everything went as well as I could have possibly hoped. We will be keeping everything quiet for now, of course, but,” she pauses, sighing in faux relief, “they did not reject me out of hoof, which is all I could ask given the circumstances.”

“That’s great!” he cheers, though there is a distinct lack of excitement in it.

“It is,” she easily agrees. “However, I do think we have a more urgent topic to discuss than my love life.”

“Oh?” he curiously asks. Hoof tapping against his chin, he cocks his head to the side and asks, “What ever could you be referring to?” False realization paints his features as he sits up, triumphantly thrusting a hoof into the air as he excitedly declares, “Oh, I know! You want to talk about how you narced on me to my dam! I wouldn’t worry about that, princess,” he dismisses in a casual voice. “After all, what else could you do, hmm? It’s not like we could just, you know… keep things that happen between us actually between us, could we?

“Canterlot ain’t exactly Las Pegasus, is it? I mean, it’s not like ‘What happens in Canterlot stays in Canterlot,’ huh? Oh, hey, you might want this back, by the way,” he says, reaching into his mane and pulling out a bloodied knife. He tosses it onto the cloud surface before laying back down on his barrel and giving her a much more genuine glare.

“Do you think that perhaps you are being a little overly theatrical, Cure?”

“I dunno, boss. Seems pretty spot-on to me. Then again, a real knife in my back probably wouldn’t do a whole lot other than piss me off, would it? I guess the whole ‘sticks and stones’ thing is kinda flipped for me.”

Maintaining her calm, she asks, “You view this as a betrayal?”

The colt’s snout scrunches up and he seems to take a moment to really consider the question. “Not… necessarily, a betrayal, exactly, I guess,” he admits, though it is plain to see he considers her decision to write his dam very close to his definition of the word. “It was just a shitty thing to do. You could have at least had the balls to tell me you were reporting my every action to my dam instead of letting me get blindsided like you did.”

“We have an agreement,” she begins before clarifying, “Your dam and I. She, quite reasonably, I might add, has asked that I not hide anything concerning your behavior from her or the rest of your parents. Put yourself in her position, Cure. If you had a foal going off without you, would you not insist on being informed of what he was doing?”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“Then you should have known that your choices would result in exactly this scenario.”

“You still could have at least told me!” he growls, staring daggers at the elder mare.

“I should not have needed to. Even if I had said nothing, do you not honestly believe that Amethyst would not tell her everything, regardless?”

“It’s not the same coming from Amy as it is coming from freaking Princess Celestia,” he snarls her name as the volume of ethereal glow from his mane and tail double, “and you know it!”

“I would argue that she is more inclined to believe her wife than she is anything I say,” she calmly points out. With a sigh, she amends, “Though, truth be told, I suppose she would not be the only one amongst my little ponies would put more weight on my words than even their spouse’s.”

“Exactly!”

“Which, again, should not matter. Objectively, only a small portion of what was in that report could be construed as negative. I am exceedingly grateful for everything you accomplished during your visit, and I made it clear that, even if I was not thrilled with some of the things you are also responsible for, the good you did far, far outweighed any potential problems you had a hoof in.”

“You told her I could have started a war!”

“I correctly pointed out that a prince, foal or not, intentionally invading another nation’s sovereign land could be construed as an act of war depending on the circumstances.”

“You would be amazed how little that made a difference! Again, Princess Celestia -”

“You do not have to growl every time you say my name, Cure.”

The colt chews his lip for a moment. Celestia watches on impassively as his jaw works from side to side. Finally, he continues, “you wrote that I could have started a freaking war!”

“And you could have. It is theoretically possible. I also pointed out that it is a very unlikely result and, more likely, would have been used as some kind of bargaining chip instead.”

“You could have just put that in there!”

“I could have,” she agrees. “That does not preclude the possibility that the outcome could have been far worse. What if you had accidentally hurt somepony, Cure? What if you had been forced to fight your way out?”

“I had a spare minotaur body on standby just in case!”

The mare facehooves, shaking her head in disbelief. After another deep sigh, she argues, “I do not know if that would be any better! Instead of you being rightly blamed, they would have instead held the minotaurs accountable for something they had no part in!”

Scoffing, Cure shrugs his wings indifferently. “Sounds like their problem, not ours.”

“Cure!”

“What?!”

“You. Can. Not. Do. These. Things. Do you understand? You cannot cause disharmony and chaos amongst nations simply because it is easier than accepting responsibility for your own actions!”

“Woah, woah, woah!” he shouts, holding his hooves up placatingly. “Who said anything about causing chaos? The zebras would be a bit miffed, granted, but it would just be a case of he-said-she-said with no hard evidence one way or the other.”

“And how many lives will be lost or damaged as a result? What is an acceptable number, Cure? Tell me, what do you think will happen in Zebrica when word gets back that a rogue shaman, apparently acting on behalf of you, accosted their own ambassador?”

“Okay, first off, nopony was ‘apparently’ acting on my behalf at all. I made it very clear that no creature would be better off with the Alicorn of Life going off the deep end. That’s not acting on my behalf, that’s acting on everyone’s behalf.”

Celestia closes her eyes and leans her head back, seemingly looking up to the heavens for help. She sits there quietly for several long moments, all the while the colt shifts uncomfortably after leaving the ancient mare at a loss for words. Finally, after a couple minutes of silence, the mare opens her eyes and looks back down at the colt. To her relief, gone are the waves of fury flowing freely from his mane and tail. Instead of the righteous indignation or anger from before, she only sees regret and, perhaps, a hint of shame.

“We must be better, Cure. We have to be. You are still young, I know, and despite whatever other experiences you have, you cannot tell me that, objectively,” she stresses, “your ability to make mature decisions is infallible.”

“Well, no,” he mulishly admits, “but you can’t tell me that even you, with your hundreds of years of experience, never make bad decisions either.”

“I have never claimed to be perfect, but,” she rushes to add, heading off any claim of victory he may seek, “I also do my best to not make important decisions without consulting others. I know that, because of my long life, I will inevitably see things differently, and my own biases may lead me to an unwise choice. I do not make decisions that will impact millions of souls unilaterally, and Neither. Can. You. No one being should.”

Finally, the last bit of tension seems to drain from the colt entirely, and a look of defeat settles in. Brushing the discarded knife to the side, Celestia scoots closer on her barrel and wraps her forelegs around the colt, pulling him tightly against her chest. It takes a few minutes of cuddling before he finally reacts at all, but Celestia can’t help but smile when he finally nuzzles his cheek against her and buries his snout in her coat.

Finally breaking the silence, she softly asks, “If I may ask, what is to be your punishment?”

“I’m grounded,” he grumps into her fur. “Sort of, at least. Dam says no more using my rings except for when I’m being Serpentus.”

Still speaking softly, she observes, “A rather mild sentence, all things considered.”

“I guess,” he weakly agrees. “She was pretty upset. Said she doesn’t even know what else to do.” A loud sniffle cuts through the otherwise silence of the realm. “She said she never thought her son would do something like threaten somepony in their own home.”

The mare is grateful he cannot see her expression from below. Even with her centuries of experience maintaining her stoicism, that statement alone draws a sympathetic wince. “I do not think she meant it how you are interpreting it, Cure. I am sure she was just upset.”

“Don’t forget disappointed. She tossed that one out there more than a few times.”

“All things are temporary,” she says, leaning down to nose at his mane. “Things will go back to normal within a few days. You will see. She is just worried for you, that is all. You have had so, so much happen in your life in such a short time, little of which she can control.”

“I know.”

“Just be better, Cure. For everypony’s sake, including your own.”

“I know,” he repeats, laying his head across her thigh.

The two sit in silence for several minutes when she notices the colt seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “Cure? I think you may need to go to bed. I am sure today has been exhausting for you.”

He nods into her foreleg and lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry I was being a dick, Tia.”

“I am used to it,” she teases.

His eyes flick up in a scowl that falters upon seeing her smile. “Whatever. Goodnight, boss,” he says, bonking his brow into her leg.

“And a good night to you, Cure Wave,” she replies, watching as he slips back into the material plane.

Author's Note

This chapter is coming to you late due to the Illuminate invasion. I would have published it at least a week ago, but I had to shoot a bunch of aliens in the face to preserve freedom and managed democracy.

Well I hope everyone's had a happy holiday season. I swore to myself that I would get at least one more chapter out before the end of the year. I try not to do the whole "I didn't like X" thing in my chapters, but there's a section of this chapter I'm not super fond of. I avoid doing past tense stuff as much as I can, but the chapter was already running longer than I was shooting for and I really wanted to publish it today.

I don't really think I have a whole lot else to add about the chapter, so I suppose that's good enough for now.

Everyone have a safe & happy new year, and I'll see you all back again in January!

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting. Take care!