Monday, September 14th, 909 AB (the next day)
Around 6:00 in the morning

Rousing himself from torpor for what feels like the fiftieth time, Cure finally gives in and accepts that his last chance to get anything close to some actual rest is well and truly gone. The absolute emotional exhaustion he had experienced the night before still clings to his mind, adding an unwelcome and almost overwhelming weight to his limbs as he stretches them in every direction.

“I never thought my own foal would do something so… HORRIBLE to somepony!” her hurt, disappointed cry echoes in his mind.

The prospect of rest abandoned, he pushes himself up from his prone position and uses his wings to roll the sisters closer under his barrel. Though the motion briefly causes them to stir, they quickly latch onto each other and still, settling back into the deep slumber that eluded him throughout the night.

Careful steps see him to the edge of the bed. Wings spread, he glides to his door, soundlessly sneaking out of his and his sisters’ shared room. Silently navigating the pitch black hallway, he makes his way to the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light. Standing outside of the stone stall, he puts his right hoof against the wall and leans in, grasping the longer earth pony friendly lever and turning it on.

With the bathroom right above the house’s water heater, it only takes a few seconds for everything to get nice and hot. A quarter turn of the cold lever has the temperature just right, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb in, pulling the curtain shut behind himself. He cranes his head back and stretches his wings up and out, creating a river of near scalding water that runs down his wings and neck, over his back, and follows his tail to the textured floor.

What starts as a deep sigh morphs into a yawn as he fights the temptation to lean against the wall and just… stand there, soaking in the warmth. The dreams, verging on nightmares, that plagued him over the course of the night gradually fade into the back of his mind, the fears diluted until more easily ignored as wakefulness finally takes hold. One more chest expanding yawn snakes its way from his maw, finally reviving the analytical part of his mind.

He knows he is overreacting. The visions of his family turning him away are nothing but his doubts painted on a canvas of fear, none of which would ever come to be. The logic is there, but the raw, emotional hurt doesn’t care.

“That is not the sweet, loving Cure I know! We taught him better than that!”

“Quit being such a little emo pussy,” he growls to himself. “She didn’t mean it that way and you know it.” Determined to push past his gloom, the colt rears up, braces his left hoof against the wall, and spends a moment letting the water soak into the fur of his chest and belly. He reaches forward, rotating the flow control lever to the right, diverting the water from the higher showerhead to the hoof-grippable wand.

Wand in hoof, the young alicorn starts from the top and works his way down, spraying under his chin, beneath both of his wings, in all of the nooks and crannies between his feathers, down his underside in his legpits and crotch, underneath his tail and between his cheeks, and finally on the frogs of each hoof. If he spends a little more time on one spot or another, nopony else is present to admonish him.

A corner shelf behind him and to his left has the assortment of soaps, shampoos, and conditioners that he normally uses. His parents have their own bathtub and shower attached to the master suite, which is where they, along with all of his siblings, typically do their bathing. Sometimes Amethyst or his dam will shower Cherry and Lotus in his bathroom, but for the most part this one is his alone.

Unlike the others, Cure prefers to use the basic, unscented soaps. They get rid of the very little sweat and dirt he’s accumulated while not interfering with whatever bouquet he decides to go with on a given day.

Affixing the wand back to the wall, he turns the water off to soap himself up. The shelf isn’t too high for him to reach, but he does have to rear up to get to it. With plastic still a distant pipe dream, most liquids like shampoos come in glass bottles with a screw-on lid.

His memories insist that glass in a stone shower stall is a terrible idea, but telekinetic grips don’t slip off of smooth surfaces as easily as fingers would. Floors are only textured for the benefit of unicorns, who lack the stronger gripping force that earth ponies and pegasi possess. Even when accidents do happen, hooves and a thicker, tougher hide provide more than enough protection from sharp edges.

Thankfully, the ‘righty-tighty, lefty-loosey’ standard still applies in ponyland, so a twist to the left has him scooping a dollop out with the little spoon-like attachment on the underside of the lid. He smears one directly into his mane right between his ears, another that he smooshes onto his dock just above his tail, then streaks one under each wing through his secondaries before resealing the jar and putting it back on the shelf.

He rears up, bracing himself against the wall with his forehead, the contrasting coolness of the stone barely felt through his fur. Leaning against the wall, he rubs the shampoo into his mane, pushing off with his left hoof to get the top, then sits on his rear, twisting to one side then the other to do the same with his tail.

Wings are one area he doesn’t hesitate to cheat in. While pegasus wings are not exactly delicate, the feathers themselves do require a bit of care when maintaining. Cure’s much tougher plumage means he can grab any sponge, washrag, or brush and more or less go to town without fear of damaging the feathers or causing himself a lick of pain. He doesn’t go quite hog wild scrubbing them clean, not only because it’s unnecessary with how clean his body naturally is, but also because the act of slowly, methodically wiping his wings down is almost as relaxing as having somepony else lend a hoof.

Hair and feathers taken care of, he pops open another jar and grabs his sponge off the shelf, loading it up with a big fat glob of soap. A quick spritzing from the showerhead and a couple kneading squeezes sees a thick lather start to ooze from its pores.

Legs spread slightly, he stands on all fours and grips the sponge in his touch-telekinesis, starting at the tip of his snout and swirling it around himself in a spiraling motion, grinding the suds into his coat. The sponge scrubs with an unseen grip, washing his face, ears, the underside and side of his neck, shoulders, withers, chest, down one foreleg then his other, across his belly, then up and down his sides and back, all around and across his crotch (once again, perhaps, spending more time on a few spots than is strictly necessary), then on the inside and outside of his hind legs before finally moving across his flanks, rump, and sudsing up his butt. His hooves and frogs are last, which he lifts and scrubs one at a time.

The entire process only takes a few minutes and, unlike from his memories, doesn’t require any awkward contortions, twisting, or bending to get every nook and cranny. Rinsing off takes almost twice as much time as soaping up, and a few minutes later he’s finally done.

Turning so he’s sideways in the stall, he spreads his wings to full extension and gives his whole body a mighty shake. A quarter turn later, he gives another good shake to throw the excess water out his tail, after which he pulls the curtain to the side and reaches for a set of towels. The one for his mane, head, and underside is tossed over his neck while the other for his tail and the rest of his barrel is draped across his back.

Using his right hoof, Cure gets as much as he can quickly squeeze out of his mane, then gives his face, neck, and undercarriage a good enough scrubbing that he won’t drip too much. He tosses the towel on the floor outside of the stall, contorting his body to the side to reach his tail. Just like his mane, he squeezes enough water out not to make a mess before stepping out of the stall and onto his discarded towel.

Drying off doesn’t take too long thanks to his shorter coat. With no fur going funky directions, he only has to spend a few minutes getting his mane combed back. A thin layer of his self-made styling wax spikes his mane up and back at the front while the rest is combed down his neck between his ears. His tail is even easier since he, as colts typically do, wears his tail straight. A few run-throughs with the brush to work out the kinks is all that is needed there.

Finally sliding his horn into place, Cure conjures a globe of Light and looks in the mirror. An application of his talent shifts his colors from the preferred blue and green into the brown and gold of his Serpentus disguise. His mane lengthens and straightens, falling lazily down his neck while his face shifts slightly here and there, seemingly altering its structure and significantly changing his appearance.

The thin layer of fat he keeps on his body melts away, leaving the chiseled muscles of His Highness on display. His ears lengthen by a centimeter and the hair on them thickens slightly, stopping somewhere between a normal pony and a bat. His eyes lose the familiar milk chocolate, shifting to a bright, shimmering gold. He smiles at his reflection, altered dentition visibly on display.

He doesn’t manage to hold the facade for more than a few seconds before it cracks, leaving him staring blankly at the foal in the mirror.

He isn’t sure how long he stands there. More than a few minutes, at least. The sound of running water starting up eventually rouses him from his stupor. He figures it’s probably Lemon starting her morning routine, but intentionally avoids focusing his senses in that direction.

Forcing himself back into action, Cure hangs both towels from hooks on the wall. A couple castings of Cleaning and Warming have the towels well on their way to drying, and a few more blasts around the shower ensure the area is once again cleaner than the average operating room. Disguise still in place, the colt has one of his puppets prepared as he makes his way down the stairs. The wings are completely removed, though a set of concealed horns lining the side of its neck are prepared in case the need were to arise.

The Cure clone Teleports into the kitchen as he finishes putting on a pot of coffee. Serpentus stares vacantly at the slow drip while Cure gets a pot out for breakfast. He has time enough to make almost anything, but… the energy to do anything elaborate is simply not there. Oats, barley, and a mixture of nuts is good enough. While the oat mix boils on the stove he has his plant conjure up a platter of fruit. Blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, bananas, and apples should give everypony plenty of options to add to their bowl.

Serpentus prepares his coffee and sits at the table, silently sipping at his drink. Cure sits on the counter by the stove, occasionally giving the food a small stir. It’s quiet save for the distant sound of running water and the burbling sizzle coming from the stove. He enjoys the few minutes of peace by just… not thinking about anything as much as he can manage.

He isn’t feeling particularly hungry, but he still forces himself to eat. It’s okay. Nothing spectacular. It’s not doughnuts or pancakes or some castle-prepared meal, but none of that sounds all that great right now anyhow. Stove turned off, he moves the food to a cool burner and covers it to keep in the moisture. A slightly overcharged Warming should keep it hot for his mom without burning it to the bottom or sides of the pot.

Cleaning up after himself only takes a few seconds. A check of his watch shows the time. There’s still almost an hour before sunrise. He could hang out for a bit, but the longer he stays the more likely he’ll have to interact with somepony. He’s not quite ready for that yet. Maybe when he’s more awake. He might as well get moving. Today is going to be pretty busy, after all.

The pair leave the kitchen and walk towards the door only to pause. From his tail all the way up to his collar, Serpentus’ coat fuses together in a layer of nearly skintight silk as another layer of fur regrows underneath. A series of flashes Teleport his shoes and peytral into place. His crown flashes into existence on an outstretched hoof. He spends a few minutes just staring, then sighs and sets it atop his head. Invisibility shrouds the colt as the puppet strolls out the front door, holding it open for the original to slip out as well.

The newspaper is sitting on the doorstep. There’s probably something in there about him, but he can’t seem to muster the energy to care. It’ll keep until later.

Cure sedately walks towards town, Serpentus invisibly takes to the sky.

He isn’t sure what time the captain gets to the base. Probably way too damn early for anypony sane. She has to be there by now.

He wonders if those same guards are on duty again. Corporal Bitterbark and Private Posy. Or was it Posey? Posie? It’s probably the first one. That’s how it’s spelled most of the time. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to go get the goofy mare a treat if she’s working. He remembers she said they have good bearclaws, but there was something else she said was her favorite. He knows he had one for her, but can’t recall what it was. Hopefully he’ll remember once he sees what they have available.

Maybe the girls would also like a surprise before their first day of school. Doughnuts two days in a row. How sinfully decadent. He’d get something for the whole school, but he doesn’t feel like explaining how he bought breakfast from a bakery in Baltimare and got them to school before class starts.

He supposes he could get everypony something from the Dough family’s place here in town. He certainly has plenty of time. He’ll have to wait until he can Send a message to the pegasi before Teleporting them theirs. Cloud houses move too much to reliably hit a target without eyes-on. He supposes he could just fly a bird up to act as a spotter. Yeah, that’ll probably be the easiest way to get them.

Maybe he’ll make a game out of teleporting pastries into the air someday. Put them high up in the sky without any warning and see if any pegasi manage to catch them before they hit the ground.

That… would probably get him a talking-to by somepony. Probably Bulwark. Actually, probably Song because she’s pretty and they know he’s more likely to listen to her because he’s a male. Or maybe Rico. She’s pretty too, but has the added bonus of being single. He supposes the most likely result would be somepony telling his dam and letting her sort it out. He could see her telling the guard to discipline him that way. To be fair, she knows it will work as well or better than anything else would.

Cure speeds up to a steady trot, diverting from Lemon’s store towards the Dough bakery. Serpentus adjusts his heading to slightly south of the base. The bakery is close enough that it won’t take him but a few extra minutes. That’s not a problem. It’s not like he’s in a hurry at all.

The thought that he’s going to two bakeries in two different cities at the same time amuses him, but not enough for him to smile. It’s only a little funny. Cyndi would probably get a chuckle out of it. At least, she would after busting his balls. She would totally call him a fatass if she could see his spending on baked goods alone over the last month. Of course, a lot of that went was spent on her, so… oh well.

He’ll probably never get a big, fancy “I’m Sorry” cake for her again. She may not even be in the same room as him for a long time, depending on how he feels once this whole thing blows over. There’s no need to put himself at risk when he can use a puppet instead.

It’s almost definitely unnecessary, but there’s always a chance she may decide to go with another option than telling his dam. She certainly has the ability to do almost anything she decides is warranted, and she still hasn’t taught him to resist mental attacks. Even if she did, there’s no telling if she would hold back some trick only she has figured out. Best not keep his brain near her, just in case.

Trust is a binary. It is present in sufficient quantities for a given situation or it is not. He’s not exactly feeling a “yes” for most things right this moment, but he’s aware enough to recognize that his emotions are having an impact. Maybe once the dust settles he’ll feel differently.

He can understand informing a parent about their foal’s behavior when they’re not around. That’s totally reasonable under most circumstances. There’s some question as to whether that trumps things involving national security or confidential information, but he supposes sharing that kind of stuff is ultimately her call regardless.

To her credit, she did include the tidbit from Stormsurge about the Matobo Tribe’s movements. That, as much as any other one thing, is what convinced him he needed to make them aware of the stakes. Omitting it would have been a dick move.

Assuming the zebras take action, he’s not sure whether or not that news will be passed on. Given how he reacted to only the possibility, he kind of doubts it will. At least, not unless there’s some kind of immediate threat that he absolutely must be made aware of.

If they come then all bets are off, he mentally snarls, lips curled in anger.

The young alicorn subconsciously flies faster, his weariness cast aside by blind fury. Adrenaline floods his system as vision after vision of violence flash through his mind.

Only a few seconds after crossing into Baltimare airspace, his Invisibility shell shatters, pulling his attention back to reality and out of the bloodsoaked spiral he had started to imagine. Confusion usurps fury as he searches for the cause, and he soon realizes he has only himself to blame once again. A deep breath extinguishes his scintillating wings, and a few more finally calm his mane and tail.

The bright light is easily noticed in the otherwise darkened sky, and the sudden, focused attention of the base’s scrying arrays cause his crown to start buzzing. Patrolling unicorns on the ground shine Light spells into his approximate direction. Serpentus curses up a small storm when he realizes it’s too late to simply recast his spell. It’s one thing to go completely unnoticed, but now that an intrusion has been detected it’s better to let them confirm the source.

Resigned to his fate, he lights up his horn and glides to a small cloud where everypony can get a good look. With the cause of the disturbance identified, the horns on the ground wink out and the sudden influx of scrying ports taper off. A series of chirps from his left draws his attention to a squad of bats who have altered their course to intercept.

Today is going to suck. I can feel it all the way down into my bones, he silently grouses.

Forced smile plastered back on his face, Serpentus waves jauntily to the three as they slow into a hover. “Good morning!” he greets once they get close enough to hear. It takes him a second to recognize them with their armor, but once he gets a good look he realizes that he's met them before. Now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure if there are very many bats in the entire Baltimare region he hasn’t healed or given membranes to at this point. “Corporal Skyhook, Private Ridgeway, Private Glitterdust. All is well, I hope?”

“Good morning, your highness! It’s been a quiet night, sir,” the lead stallion replies. Looking the colt over from tail to horn, he asks, “Are you alright, though, sir? It looked like… Well, honestly, it looked like you were on fire.”

“Ah, no. I mean everything’s okay, but no to the fire part. That was just, you know, alicorn stuff,” he weakly offers, waving a wing to show that his plumage is unsinged. “The princess said I’ll get these flare-ups once in a while until, eventually, I just stay like that.” With a put upon huff he adds, “Forever, to my eternal glee. Frankly, fire would probably be easier to deal with,” he grumbles, snout scrunched in annoyance. “At least then I could put it out and be done with it.”

Judging from the unsure looks the three exchange, they don’t seem to share the colt’s sentiment. He’s not sure why. Being on fire would kind of suck, but at least that’s temporary. He would expect that, of any tribe, a bat could understand what a nuisance glowing in the dark all the time would be.

“As you say, sir. We could provide an escort if you’d like. Are you on your way to the hospital?”

Serpentus draws a deep breath and shakes his head no. “Actually, I was headed to Carol to see if the captain is available. First, though, one of the gate guards mentioned a place that supposedly has amazing bearclaws, so-”

“Baltimare’s Best?!” Glitterdust excitedly interrupts. Clapping her forehooves in anticipation, she croons, “Stars above they are sooooo! Goooood!” Her bright purple eyes almost sparkle as she dips her head in an awkward, flying bow and begs, “Can we escort you there, sir? Please? Our shift’s over in about an hour, and my parents love their wildberry jelly filled doughnuts! It’s a little late for breakfast, but that means we’ll have dessert with lunch!”

The two stallions stare aghast, horrified that the private so blatantly cut off his highness. Despite not being in the best mood, her infectious giddiness brings a genuine smile to Serpentus’ face. Even more amusing is the panicked look on the stallions, both of whom are slowly inching away from the young mare.

“Dessert after lunch?” he pretends to mull over as if ponies need an excuse to have dessert. “That’s a brilliant idea, private. How about you lead the way?”

Request granted, she twirls triumphantly in the air like a top, finishing off with a flip that ends with her oriented in the correct direction while giving him quite the view in the process. “Yes sir! Follow me, sir!” she chirps before taking off to the southeast. The stallions look back and forth between her and the alicorn for a moment, finally shrugging and chasing after the mare.

Shorting a chuckle, Serpentus spreads his wings and dives off the cloud, quickly gaining on the impromptu escort. He catches a few high pitched clicks and squeaks from the mare that seem to carry well on the wind. The few bat civilians in the sky seem to understand her meaning, diverting their courses to stay well away from their route with the other flyers in the sky mostly automatically following their lead.

Baltimare’s Best Bake Shop is a single story, pale yellow brick building on the northeast corner of its block a little south of the base. Tall, wide windows line the two customer-facing sides of the building and a large, golden metal, rotating door on its corner marks the entrance and exit. The door in particular looks odd and extremely out of place for a bakery, but it does add a somewhat whimsical vibe to the joint. He guesses that it must also be enchanted to keep slowly spinning since it’s going at a steady pace even when nopony is nearby.

Amusingly, it also seems to momentarily vex the two stallions leading the way. Glitterdust doesn’t hesitate to prance right on by the onlookers who have stopped to gawk, but the inability to hold the door open for the colt seems to have caused the stallions to freeze on the spot and stare at the door as if it committed some affront by being designed in such a way. Serpentus trotting on by seems to rouse them from their trance, and, in a single-file line, the three make their way in.

The walkway from the door zigs to the right as it approaches the L-shaped counter, zags around back across the glass displays showing the selection of pastries available for purchase, and comes to and end at a register at the center corner where orders are placed and paid for. The counter to customers’ left has a blue “Pick Up” sign with pink cursive writing hanging from the ceiling along with an array of self-serve cold and hot beverages.

Fortunately there’s not many ponies in line, but there are quite a few in the two dining areas that the walkway from the entrance bisects. If conversation lessened when the mare stepped in with her gleaming golden armor, it came to a crashing halt when Serpentus followed in his similarly golden, if seemingly unarmored, flight suit. Every head in the restaurant swivels in his direction, with several ponies still holding a half-eaten doughnut up as if they halted to stare mid-bite.

The effect spreads like a series of waves of awareness sweeping across the room. Ponies that had been looking out the window react first, followed by the ones who didn’t notice him outside but are facing the entrance. Next, the ones with their backs or sides to him crane their necks to see what’s going on, then the foals who were also facing away but are only realizing something is up when their tablemates suddenly stop eating. Last but not least, the very few infants and younger foals seem to take notice, and they adorably spend a long moment staring at their dam or sire before turning their whole body around in their seat to see what the big deal is.

One tiny bat filly even waves in greeting, using the same hoof that is still clutching a doughnut she had bitten into right before he walked in. “Hi!” she squeaks out, her tiny, high-pitched voice slicing through the otherwise silence.

“Well hello there, you little cutie,” he warmly replies, waving his hoof in return. “You don’t have to pay me any mind, folks. I’m here as a customer, just like anypony else,” he calls out to the rest of the room, voice soft but filling it nonetheless He follows in the private’s hoofsteps and approaches the end of the line waiting to order. Ponies ahead rush to step aside and motion him and his escort to the front.

He would prefer not to, but knows that it would inevitably end up taking more time. They would gesture ahead. He could decline. They would insist. He could either argue and enter into a ridiculous polite-off, or he skips all the mess and accepts so everypony can get on with their lives.

It’s simply not worth the effort.

“Thanks, folks,” he says in a more normal tone, head ducked in gratitude. Thankfully, conversation steadily grows back to almost normal levels as he makes his way up to the counter. Private Glitterdust, not having waited for him or the stallions, is already at the register rattling off an order for herself. Serpentus spares a moment looking at the offerings on display, glancing in the young mare’s direction as she hems and haws, trying to guess what her siblings are in the mood for today.

With the two of them on solid ground, it becomes more obvious that she is only a few hooves taller than him. He is six and three-quarter hooves to the withers. The private doesn’t even seem to have him beat by three hooves, placing her a little on the smaller side of average for a pegasus mare.

That’s okay, though, because she’s pretty. She has good facial symmetry, no noticeable blemishes, a healthy coat, good hip to barrel to chest ratios, tall, triangular fluffy ears, and a deep navy blue coat that looks black in poor lighting but, in the restaurant, has a more royal blue sheen where the light hits it at just the right angle. The dark purple of her wings matches quite nicely while still standing out against the blue of her coat.

It has always struck Serpentus as odd that a bat’s wings are the same color as their manes and tails while pegasi always match their coats. Apparently a pegasus can have that happen, too, if their dam is a pegasus and their sire is a bat, but that is exceedingly rare. As in, "there’s probably less than five in all of Cloudsdale" rare, so it isn’t something he has seen yet.

Actually, now that he’s really paying attention, Private Glitterdust’s coat is looking a little more purple than he remembers. In fact, the longer he analyzes the mare, the closer it seems to be matching her wings. Ah, that’s right. A powdered doughnut with grape jelly, he realizes. That’s what Posy liked last time!

A gentle tap on his side almost makes him jump in surprise and his head whips around to see who has approached him.

“Your highness?” Cpl. Skyhook nervously calls. “They’re ready for your order, sir.”

Serpentus blinks in confusion. Realizing he must have gone into a daze, he quickly takes stock of his situation. Nearly all of the diners have gone back to eating with only a few stealing quick glances in his direction. Pvt. Ridgeway took up position on his tail but looks like he doesn’t know what to do other than stand there and look around. To be fair, that seems like what a guard should be doing about ninety-nine percent of the time.

The mare at the counter is smiling entirely too broadly for somepony that is working before eight in the morning. It takes a second for him to realize that she isn’t smiling. She’s smirking. And looking between him and Pvt. Glitterdust, who is studiously avoiding his eyes, shuffling on her hooves, and blushing up a storm.

Shit! How long was I staring at her?!

“Uh, you go ahead and get whatever you want. That goes for you, too, private,” he orders, turning to look over his withers. “I’m still trying to figure out what all I need.”

Hesitating for only a moment, the two stallions step up to the counter. The young alicorn busies himself looking over the store’s selection until they are done with their orders. He steps in front of the register and rears up, resting his hooves on the counter’s edge. “Sorry about that, earlier. Had a long night.”

“Sure thing, yer highness.” Even though she voices her agreement out loud, her coy expression and the wink she shoots him tells him what, or rather who, she suspects to be the source of his distraction.

He briefly gives her a pouty glare before starting his order. “I need a half dozen powdered grape jelly and glazed mixed, four dozen assorted boxed separately, five dozen bearclaws if you have enough that I’m not running you out.”

“We bake extras fer Mondays, highness. Ain’t no problem a’tall.”

“Great!” he exclaims. “And finally, six to-go liters of coffee and one of tea.” Even with only two brain cells currently firing, he figures the total can’t be much more than a hundred and seventy bits. Balancing on his left hoof, he reaches into his suit’s collar with his right and withdraws a couple hundred bit coins from his pouch, sliding them across the counter. “Keep the change, miss.”

“Much obliged, highness! We’ll have ‘em right out for ya!”

Nodding in acceptance, the young alicorn and his three guards move to the left to get out of everypony’s way. While having an escort thrust upon him can be kind of annoying, he can’t deny how useful it is to deter everypony from needlessly approaching him. Even without his hearing turned all the way up, it isn’t difficult to hear one pony or another considering it. Some are parents with foals that want to introduce their child to him, either simply for the experience of meeting a prince or, in the case of a few, for slightly more opportunistic, though not malicious, reasons.

A trio of older pegasus fillies sitting a table over from their parents are daring a fourth - the youngest, it seems - to come say hi, giggling about whether his highness would be amenable to her approaching him. Serpentus slowly leans forward to peer past Private Glitterdust on his right, waiting until the youngest sister turns around to look at him again.

The table erupts in squeals of delight when he waggles his brow and blows her a kiss, but any confidence she had been building up seems to be dashed on the rocks. His movement had caught the private’s attention and, for a brief moment, she had misinterpreted the target of his teasing. Thankfully the laughter clues her in and she follows his gaze to the table before she gets herself too worked up.

A stallion soon emerges from the kitchen to make one of several trips piling box after box on the counter. “Order up, yer highness!” he cheerfully calls out with a shallow nod.

Private Ridgeway steps forward first, apparently deciding it’s his duty to somehow carry the load. “I’ve got it, private,” Serpentus interrupts, visibly igniting his horn so everypony knows he is casting a spell. The four boxes of mixed immediately vanish, two Teleported straight back to his workshop to be held until closer to sunrise for Glacial’s and Drift’s families and the other two sent straight to his dinner table at home for his family.

He doesn’t bother explaining where everything went, leaving the destination for everypony to guess. Instead, his horn continues to glow and the entire order floats off the counter to hang in midair, levitating over the colt as he and his escort take their leave. He has to hold everything directly overhead when passing through the rotating door, but he’s short enough that it isn’t a problem at all.

A very short flight later sees him to Carol’s front gate. Levitating each escort’s package onto their backs, he thanks them for their help and dismisses them, assuming they’re going to stop by their post to drop off their goodies quickly before resuming their patrol. Neither Posy nor Bitterbark are on duty at the moment, but the ponies that are agree to set aside a doughnut for each when they arrive for their shifts in a few hours.

Captain Stance and Lieutenant Scroll are both waiting for him inside the gate along with an unfamiliar pastel yellow unicorn stallion. The three snap to attention and salute as Serpentus approaches, barely sparing a glance to the array of boxes floating behind the foal.

“Good morning, captain. Lieutenant. Staff Sergeant,” he greets with a nod.

“Good morning, your highness!” is barked back at him by all three.

“Oof. You don’t need my talent to tell your lungs are healthy. At ease, all of you. It’s too damn early for all that… thatness.”

“Protocol, sir,” the mare indifferently offers, though she and the others do relax their rigid postures.

“Yeah, I’m a real stickler for protocol, aren’t I?” he rhetorically asks. “It’s all good, captain. I’m just giving you a hard time.” Focusing on the unicorn, he inclines his head in greeting. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, sergeant, but I do recall being told to meet with a Sgt. Hill once before the lieutenant intercepted me.”

“That would be me, your highness. The pleasure is all mine.”

“Eh, wait ‘till you get to know me better. You’ll change your tune sooner or later. So, enough foaling around. It’s Monday morning, which I’m betting means you probably have a whole week’s worth of stuff to get ready for, and I’m sure I wasn’t on your agenda before I lit up your skies.” At least the self deprecation, minor as it was, gets small smiles from the lieutenant and sergeant.

He makes a note to, one day, get a scan of the captain to be sure there is not, in fact, a stick literally up her ass. “Has Sergeant Hill been read in on my file?”

“Yes, sir, I have,” the unicorn confirms.

“Alright, then. You can stick around. I’ll keep this short.” He takes a half second to look around. Nopony is terribly close, but best to be safe. “I’m erecting a privacy screen. Heads up.” He gives each a chance to acknowledge him, then realizes his conundrum. Casting a spell while maintaining Levitation is possible, but it’s not something he can easily pull off. “Uhh… is there somewhere this all can go?” he asks, waving a wing in the air vaguely towards the food.

The sergeant takes the initiative, hollering for another unicorn to come relieve the colt of his burden. Once the guard is far enough away Serpentus surrounds the four in a bubble and begins, “Captain, if you haven’t already, you’ll be getting something from her majesty about arranging an escort for me to go around Golden Hills for an agricultural study.”

The light gray mare nods in confirmation. “It arrived when you did, sir, but was not marked urgent. I read it when I retired to base after the reception Saturday evening.”

“Good. While I would prefer to have a few pegasi follow me through the sky from farm to farm and knock it all out in half an hour, I suspect the princess wants something more visible.”

“That is what she indicated, sir.”

“Of course,” he drolls. “The whole thing is just so that I can have me and my body double visible around my hometown at the same time to further obfuscate my identity.”

“Sir?” Lt. Quill calls, waiting for the young alicorn to nod to proceed. “I read the report from Cpl. Bounce about the Broccoloid creature. Is it not the purpose of the survey to ascertain their presence on the nearby farms?”

“As far as the ponies of Golden Hills are concerned, yes. The Broccoloid themselves though? I very much doubt they exist. Surely I, or at least the ponies her majesty has watching over me, would have seen some evidence of this supposed Broccoloid Kingdom if they’re developed enough to have milled paper for scrolls and a textile industry that can produce fine cloaks dyed in red. My money’s on the whole thing being some crazy pony’s idea of a prank.” The colt rolls his eyes and scoffs, pointing out, “The scroll was written on in crayon for goodness sake!”

Captain Stance’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “I was not aware you had seen the scroll, sir. That it was written in crayon was not included in any of the articles about it.”

“I wasn’t given a chance to analyze it,” he admits, “but there was no shortage of witnesses, and the corporal, who goes by Ricochet, by the way, opened it right there in the lobby in front of everypony.”

“I… see,” she slowly replies, not bothering to hide her doubt.

“Anyhow, with the season just around the corner I would like to accomplish two tasks at once. First, the survey in Golden Hills, then while I’m there, I would also like to have a day to do health checks for ponies planning on trying for a foal in the upcoming season. Mares and stallions, both. There’s no reason I couldn’t see mares that are currently pregnant as well. I would like to do this for everyone in the Baltimare area that is interested. Depending on the turnout, I may need more than one day per town and will definitely need a few for the city proper.

“Now I know what you’re thinking. All of this is impossible if I’m only working three days a week. Well, all my friends are in school now so I might as well be productive with my time and all that. I’m going to talk to Dr. Care about expanding my hours to include Tuesdays, Thursdays, and afternoons and about this screening idea once I get the chance to today. What I’ll need from you is for you to coordinate with the RHA to plan out the logistics. I figured I should give you a heads-up to expect to hear from somepony soon and so that you can get whatever balls rolling that you need to.

“I brought you breakfast as an apology for dumping this mess on your plate with such a short turn-around time, so yeah, sorry it’s all so last-minute. The idea just came up over the weekend.”

Rather than looking bothered like he had expected, all three are subconsciously bobbing their heads in silent approval. The captain looks to her left, first meeting Lt. Quill’s eyes then the sergeant’s. “That shouldn’t be difficult at all, sir,” she finally confirms. Turning back to face the colt, she adds, “We will begin preparations on our end and, once we confer with the RHA scheduling team, send a proposed itinerary to the hospital for your review.”

“Awesome! Glad to hear it. Anything else before I dispel this?” he asks, eyes flicking up towards his horn.

“No, sir.”

“Good deal. I think I’m going to go for a flight around town before my shift starts, then. No need for an escort!” he rushes to add. Before anypony has a chance to protest, the barrier collapses and the colt disappears in a bright flash of light. The other end of his Teleport flares up high in the night sky, illuminating any nearby clouds for an instant then winking out.

Lt. Quill blinks the spots from his eyes and looks up towards the clouds. “Huh. I can’t seem to spot him. “Must have gone Invisible again.”

The captain remains mostly silent, only blowing out a long suffering sigh.

Sgt. Hill turns to face the officers and says, “Permission to inform the monitoring station that the perimeter breach they’re no doubt searching for was his highness, ma’am?”

The only response he receives before departing is a small bob of the mare’s head.

“Excellent. I believe I may procure one of those doughnuts afterwards.” The stallion gives a quick salute, turns on the spot, and trots away without another word.

“It may be presumptuous of me,” the lieutenant diplomatically begins, “but I have a sneaking suspicion that his highness knows more about the Broccoloid thing than he lets on.”

The mare snorts and shakes her head. “I don’t believe that’s presumptuous at all, lieutenant. I am curious, though.”

“Hmm?”

“Lt. Shift returned to Canterlot yesterday afternoon.”

“Ah. About his body double,” the pegasus guesses.

“Exactly, lieutenant.”

“I wonder who he found. He seems smart enough not to use one of his friends.”

Shaking her head no, Captain Stance confidently declares, “It’s not one of them. They would all be in school starting today, regardless. I’m far more concerned that, in the case of his highness, ‘body double’ may be entirely too literal.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air as the two ponder the possibilities.

“You think he somehow duplicated himself, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, but if he did then what’s stopping him from making even more?”

Luna’s moon slides smoothly below the western horizon, bringing an end to the night. In stillness and silence the land seems to pause, bracing itself for the morning’s sunlight. With unnatural swiftness the sun streaks into the sky, bathing all of Equestria in dawn’s first rays and drawing curses and distressed groans from nearly every foal inside of its borders.

The first day of school has finally arrived, and Polished Apple could not be more excited to start. With a song in her heart and a skip of her hooves, the mare dances between the desks making sure they’re ready to go. Desktops are cleaned and waxed, name tags are set out showing each foal where to sit, and books are shelved and lined up just so. Her name is written in perfect cursive on the board with a border of shiny red, green, and yellow apples drawn all around it.

With Celestia’s sun having just risen into the sky, she shouldn’t have to wait too long for her very first student to arrive! Halting mid step, the mare strains to hear; the familiar little clip-clop of small hooves is already approaching! It’s wonderful to have foals that are so eager to learn!

“Be calm, be professional, Polished!” she demands of herself. Sitting placidly behind her desk, she turns to the door to greet the foal with a warm, welcoming smile. Sadly her efforts are all for naught; unable to contain her excitement for even one second more, she shoots to her hooves as soon as the door’s handle starts turning.

“Goooood mooooorniiiing~!” she cheerfully sings out, “and welcome to … Cure Wave?!”

“Named the building after me, didjya?” the colt teasingly asks as he trots through the door.

“Hardly,” the mare flatly answers. She suspiciously eyes the white boxes stacked on his back. “What are you doing here? I have a hard time believing you had a change of heart, after all.”

Cure scoffs and shakes his head no, echoing back, “Hardly. No,” he says, approaching her desk to explain, “I’m just stopping by on my way to work. I was up early and figured I would bring the girls a ‘Happy New School Year’ treat or whatever. Start the whole thing on the right hoof. Then I figured I could just get something for everypony, because why not?”

“Aww! That was very kind of you, Cure!” the mare warmly gushes. “Thank you!”

Generous, he mentally corrects.

“I can help you. How about we put them on my desk?” she asks, stepping around it to lend a hoof.

The colt freezes. He gives the desk an unsure look and his nostrils flare wide as he takes a deep breath. Reaching into his mane, he withdraws a crystal and uses it to cast a spell on its surface.

Frozen in place, Polished looks on bewildered. “Cure?”

“Just had to… ya know. Give it a quick Sanitizing,” he mumbles under his breath, punctuating it with an awkward cough. “Food safety and all that, ya know. Sure, though. Go ahead and take these off’a me, if ya could, please.”

One by one she moves the boxes onto her desk, peeking inside as she goes. “You certainly got more than enough for everypony. Are you sure you don’t want to take some to your mom? Several desks will be empty until the harvest is done, after all.”

Shaking his head, he waves the idea away with a flick of his hoof. “Nah, I buy doughnuts all the time. Go ahead and take ‘em all. I made everypony at home breakfast before I left anyhow.”

“You made everypony breakfast?” she repeats in surprise.

Cure shrugs minutely, admitting, “I was up first. Bad dreams. You know how it is.”

“Aww, poor thing,” she coos, laying down and wrapping him in a hug. It’s a little awkward having grabbed him from his right side, but the colt doesn’t seem to mind, leaning into her chest and nuzzling her neck with his head. “Maybe you should try to take a nap before your first client. When do your appointments start?”

“At eight o’clock.”

“And,” she hesitates for a few seconds, then leans down to his ear to whisper, “what about your first patient?”

“Uhhh… I just said eight o’clock,” he slowly answers, feigning confusion.

Scooting back so she can meet his eyes, Polished Apple blows out a sigh. “Cure, honey, I’ll freely admit that I may not know everything. I sure as hay don’t know how you’re doing whatever you’re doing. Some kind of fancy alicorn magic, I would venture. But… I would be a pretty lousy teacher if I didn’t at least know my students. Granted, it didn’t dawn on me until I saw the pictures of you at the coronation,” she admits.

“Right. I was in the stands at the coronation,” he agrees.

“Mhmm. With your family.”

“Uh huh.”

“And all of your friends.”

“Yeah.”

“And all of their families, too.”

“Well… I had a lot of tickets.”

“I bet you did. Thirty some odd to spare, apparently. And of course, this was after you happened to be in the capital during his highness’s transformation just a month and a half prior.”

A beat of silence passes. She stares at him with a knowing look.

“Heck of a coincidence, huh?” he asks, chuckling uncomfortably.

“Oh, certainly. Coincidence,” she disingenuously agrees. “Just like your similar builds and cutie marks and talents and ages and where you live and so forth and so on,” she casually points out. “Remind me again, why did you quit working at the clinic?”

“Umm… ‘cause the pay sucked?”

“If I recall correctly, you were volunteering.”

“The pay really sucked,” he amends.

“Then we are very lucky that his highness showed up when he did, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Somepony should give him a medal or something. Maybe even a crown,” he offers with a weak shrug.

“How about a hug?” she offers, forelegs spread again in offering.

“... He would probably be fine with a hug,” he agrees, but doesn’t make any move to approach her. The mare rolls her eyes and scoots forward, wrapping him up again. He mercifully chooses not to resist, going so far as to wrap his forelegs around her neck as well. After all, if pretty ladies want to cuddle on him, it’s his Harmony-given duty to oblige them.

Leaning back down to his ear, she says, “I would also be a pretty lousy teacher if I couldn’t see when one of my students is hurting. The Cure Wave I know would never come to school early. It felt like I could hardly keep him here at all, for Celestai’s sake! What’s causing you bad dreams, hmm?”

“I might have, kinda, maybe done something that upset my parents.”

“Ah. So you’re avoiding them this morning,” she aptly guesses.

“Not avoiding them, exactly. I just couldn’t sleep, so…”

“So you missed me enough that you came up with an excuse to visit?” she asks in a teasing tone. “I’m touched, Cure.”

The colt leans away far enough to shoot her a weak glare. “Are all Apples so sarcastic?”

“Only the ones that don’t live on a farm.”

“Lucky me,” he grouses, twisting between her forelegs so his side and back press into her chest.

“Stop trying to change the subject. Whatever you did, and please don’t tell me what it was if it’s some kind of secret, was it something that you should not have done?”

“No,” he confidently declares. “It needed to be done.”

“You think it needed to be, or it needed to be?”

“The latter. The potential consequences otherwise… I couldn’t risk it.”

“... Really?”

Nodding firmly, he confirms, “Absolutely.”

“Hmm. I’ve not known you to have poor judgement, Cure. Presumably your parents do not agree?”

“Not all of them. My sire said he understood, even if he wasn’t exactly happy about how I went about it. He at least admitted he couldn’t think of a more effective method. Mom - Title, I mean - didn’t seem surprised, but didn’t say anything one way or the other. I think Amy was on my side, but… you know. United front, defer to the first wife and my dam and all that. Lemon wasn’t too happy, but she didn’t speak up, either.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad, all things considered.”

“I made my dam cry,” he admits. In the year that she has known the colt, she can’t think of a single other time she has seen him look so… defeated. His shoulders fall at the admission and his neck subconsciously droops as he pressed his chin into her right foreleg.

The mare fails to hide a small cringe. “Oh. Well, it sounds to me like, maybe, you could be wrong about it, whatever it is, being necessary. Or,” she is quick to add, “perhaps the reason you feel it was needed was not fully communicated to your dam.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond she prods gently into his mane with her snout to rouse him. “Probably,” he tentatively agrees. “The communication thing, I mean. It’s not like I got a chance to give my side before she was already upset. She was just all emotional and stuff.”

“Give it time, then, honey,” she suggests, nuzzling into his mane. “Maybe by tonight you can sit down and discuss the situation more calmly. Either way, I’m sure your dam is every bit as upset as you are, Cure. Don’t avoid her, okay? You know what happens when we ignore wounds, after all.”

“They can get worse,” he understandingly agrees. Rising to his hooves, he leans up to nuzzle his brow into her chin. “You’re a pretty good teacher, Miss Apple.”

“Thank you, Cure Wave.”

“I’m half tempted to take back everything I said last year, ya know?” he playfully asks.

The mare sighs good naturedly and rolls her eyes as she rises. “That is very kind of you, your highness,” she dryly intones, head dipping into a small bow.

The colt rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Don’t you even start. I sure as hay don’t need anypony adding to those crazy, definitely incorrect rumors. Oh, and your students are starting to show up,” he adds, flicking his muzzle towards the door. “You go ahead and get into ‘position,’” he emphasizes with a teasing lilt, “and I’m gonna go say hi to the girls.”

“Certainly, your highness,” she playfully calls, skipping back behind her desk.

The colt starts making his way to the door, pushing it open to head out. Just before the door closes, he pokes his muzzle in through the crack. “Oh, and thanks, Miss Apple. See ya!” he calls, slipping out and letting it close behind him.

Smiling fondly as the door clicks shut, Polished relishes the sense of accomplishment that floods through her core. Once again staring eagerly towards the door, the mare valiantly ignores the sugary sweet scents assaulting her nostrils. Her gaze briefly flicks to the boxes piled upon her desk, and an unbidden thought intrudes on her mind. “Why,” she wonders, “would he have felt the need to clean my desk before putting food on it? It’s not like anything gross has ever been on… it… Oh maker above!” she mentally screams, blushing a brilliant bright red just as the door is pulled open.

Cure draws more than a few curious stares as he is trotting away from the schoolhouse. Not so much from the foals who had been at the school the year prior, but the first year students, mostly accompanied by a parent or two, are all looking at him wondering why a school-aged colt is trotting along in the wrong direction.

He doesn’t pay them or the other foals any mind, beelining straight for the three fillies headed his way. With them living closer to town than the others, it’s no surprise that Rising, Sapphire, and Dawn are the first of the gang to arrive.

He no more than opens his muzzle to greet them when Sapphire lunges forward, clamping a hoof on either side of his face. With her snout only a fraction of a hoof from his own, she stares straight into his eyes, shouting, “Just what are you trying to pull here, mister?!”

Unsure how to respond, Cure shoots a questioning look to the others. Apparently the filly doesn’t approve, as his eyes no more than stray from her own before she gives his head a good shake. “Don’t you go lookin at them! I’m the one asking the questions around here, buddy! Who are you?!”

“Uhh… Cure Wave?” he hesitantly answers, unsure exactly what kind of bit the filly is putting on.

“Oh, no no no!” she tisks, shaking her head in disapproval. “You couldn’t possibly be Cure Wave. Cure Wave doesn’t have to go to school anymore, and he would sure as hay never show up early! You are clearly some kind of imposter! Who. Do. You. Work. For?!” she demands, leaning forward to press her brow against his.

“Saph,” he starts with a tired, annoyed tone, “if you don’t get yer dusty friggin hooves off’a my face in about half of a second then I’ll remove them myself. I can’t promise that I will be gentle.”

The filly leans back and gives a firm nod of approval. “Good. I was worried for a second there.” Looking over her withers, she reassures the other two fillies, “Don’t worry. It’s really him. Only the Cure we know and love would jump straight to threats of violence!”

“Thanks for clearing that up, Saph,” Rising dryly remarks. Panning her gaze to the colt, who has busied himself with wiping the dirt off his cheeks while scowling at the teal girl, she says, “I’m surprised you’re here, though. What the hay happened yesterday?! You said we’d get together then sent a message saying you’re grounded.”

“I… may have gotten in trouble a little,” he admits with a wince. “It’s not anything I can tell you about. Long story short, my dam was pissed off ‘cause of something that happened in Canterlot.”

“What? The zebra thing?” Dawn asks, cheeks darkening slightly at the reminder of her coltfriend’s unique way of earning bits in the capital.

For the brief second that he misunderstood her question, Serpentus, still lazily soaring around Baltimare, suddenly drops several dozen meters in altitude when his wings lock firmly in place. It only takes a moment for him to realize she was referring to Adiah, but his puppet froze momentarily as well.

Once his brain reboots he cringes but shakes his head no. “She wasn’t exactly proud of that one either, but no.” Conversation briefly pauses as passing foals greet the four foals. Once they’re alone enough again he continues, “Sorry, but this is going to be one of those ‘I can’t tell you’ things.”

The filly quirks a brow in surprise. “That bad, huh?”

Blowing out a tired sigh, Cure gives her a weary nod. “Yeah. Bad enough the boss wrote her a letter with ‘Destroy After Reading’ hornwritten in caps across the top. In red ink, no less.” It’s the fillies’ turn to wince from the implication alone. “Yyyyup,” he drawls, confirming how poorly his evening went. “And I have to say that it was warranted. So, yeah… grounded. No more casual ring use for now. Only for work, which sucks. Also, no sleepovers for a while, probably. At least not until the Running. I’m not on full blown house arrest or anything, but you may be seeing a bit less of me for a while.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Rising hesitantly asks.

“Not really,” he sighs, looking far more upset than the fillies have ever seen him.

Dawn makes the first move, stepping close enough for their chests to touch. She nuzzles his cheek on his left and crosses her neck over his in a hug. Rising doesn’t hesitate for a second, taking a half step closer on his right and mirroring the young unicorn. Wedged as he is between the two girls, Cure feels like the knot in his chest is loosened just the barest amount. He leans left and then right, pressing against each, before laying his head on Dawn’s back. Her saddlebag’s skirt is in the way, but he couldn’t care less; her comforting scent comes through the soft fabric with ease.

Not wanting to be left out, Sapphire hops to his right and rears up, leaning her front half across his back and nuzzles her chin into his withers. “Poor Cutie Wave,” she solemnly coos. “Don’t you worry your pretty little feathers too much. Your dam will probably forget about whatever it is by next week. Mine always does!” she gleefully reassures him. Leaning more upright against his side and back, she taps thoughtfully on her chin with her pastern. “Then again, I’ve never done anything bad enough to get a letter from Prin-”

The filly’s muzzle is clamped shut by Dawn’s aura, but she still keeps talking as if nothing happened. Thankfully, it all comes out in a long, indecipherable mumble that draws bewildered and amused looks from the passersby that were previously gushing and cooing at the otherwise adorable scene.

A surprising amount of support from his former teacher, some quick affection with the girls, and a sedate, uneventful flight around the city do wonders to boost the young alicorn’s mood. While he may not exactly be walking on sunshine, he at least feels like he can keep his chin up long enough to make it through the day.

He does his best not to overly concern himself with the fact that, more and more, it seems like everypony in town is figuring out his secret. Granted, Polished Apple has had a lot more interaction with him than almost any unrelated adult that lives in Golden Hills, but if she can ignore the apparent impossibility and jump to the correct conclusion then it’s very likely many others have as well.

If everypony is going to chalk up him being in two places at once as “some fancy alicorn magic” then… Well, they’re not completely wrong. That doesn’t make it any less annoying or inconvenient for him. Hopefully most ponies in town will be a little less ignorant about what magic can and can’t do and come to the wrong conclusion like he wants them to.

He figures that all he can do at this point is keep up the front, dodge any direct questions if somepony has the guts to ask, and never, under any circumstances, confirm their suspicions. If he can keep up the charade long enough then hopefully even somepony that is almost completely certain he is Prince Serpentus will still hesitate to bug Cure Wave in his day to day life.

With a slightly less troubled mind, Serpentus twists his wings just so, flinging him off his straight path up the coast towards the northwest. He spends only another moment taking in the sights. Thousands of ponies below head to work while the fishing boats and trade ships disembark from port. One new sight in particular catches the colt’s attention. Straight ahead of him and below a kilometer or two he spots hundreds of pegasi youth - some accompanied by parents - all making their way to the cloud district for school.

It’s a magnificent sight that, as much as anything else, really drives home that he lives in a magical world. Sure he had seen more pegasi when visiting Cloudsdale, but he was inside an enclosed chariot peering through a window. Looking down on the massive flock of pegasi interspersed with the occasional griffon or hippogriff all on their way to school for their first day is a magnificent sight to behold.

It isn’t hard to spot Glacial and Drift. The former sparkles like an iridescent snowflake in the wind, her coat gleaming silvery blue in dawn’s early light. The latter is one of the few dark coated pegasi in the bunch, and as much as she was complaining about school starting again, she doesn’t seem upset in the least. Flying in a group with eight other fillies, the girl seems to be chatting up a small storm.

Wind Shear and her posse trail more sedately along. Serpentus recognizes a few of them from the incident last year. Apparently the makeover he gave the filly has elevated her standing somewhat; she seems to be the center of attention amongst the fillies her age as well as a few staring colts. He wonders briefly if any of the gawkers are her ex-coltfriend. Most of the young stallions are either in a group together or have small herds of young mares already vying for their attention. A few fillies are off to the side trying to show off with their skills in the air with varying degrees of success.

An idea forms in the colt’s mind. A bad one, in all likelihood, but one with an irresistible pull. Time is of the essence, though, so he picks up the pace. Channeling earth pony magic into his chest and back, Serpentus’ muscles bulge, accelerating him towards north as quickly as they can manage. He gains altitude as he soars above and beyond the school. Invisibility still intact, he veers to the left in a tight hairpin turn, wings slicing through the air like knives.

With most of his speed preserved, he activates the crystal pony glow, dispelling the Invisibility as he dips into a fast but shallow dive. He opens his left wing tilted down and his right on a slight incline and locks them in place, sending him on a tight counter-clockwise spiral as he rockets through the morning sky. The hospital off in the distance is his target, and he focuses his attention on its front steps. It’s important when in a spiral to maintain orientational awareness, and he definitely doesn’t want to end up in a crash.

Hundreds of heads snap up to the sky when a golden light suddenly appears. It only takes a split second for the ponies below to recognize the sight; their young alicorn prince is putting on a show for the other foals headed to school, and what a show it is! A sparkling golden star shoots across the morning sky, rocketing towards the hospital. Gasps and shouts of excitement sound out as the alicorn silently blasts past the school in a split second, hurling like a lightning bolt towards the city.

The show only lasts a few seconds, and the entire flock of foals soar higher to not miss the end. Ponies on the ground scramble out of his way, but the prince proves their concerns unnecessary. With only a scant few hundred meters until impact, the colt’s wings level out, then tilt up. Spiral fully arrested, he catapults into the sky to bleed speed, seemingly only a few hooves short of the building. Almost lazily compared to before, he flips head over tail upright, then flat spins down to the ground leaving a trail of glistening air behind him.

Serpentus lands lightly on ground only a few meters short of the hospital’s main entrance. He doesn’t miss Sgt. Blackhoof’s expression; a combination of annoyed, exasperated, and slightly concerned. At least Spc. Strafe was impressed by the display. The mare looks like she could barely hold herself back from applauding. The sergeant shoots an annoyed look to his subordinate who seems completely oblivious before turning to the colt and pointing out, “His highness is aware that aerial maneuvers such as the ones he executed are not allowed within the city limits, is he not?”

Caring not a single whit, Serpentus shrugs his wings and smiles back. “Ah. Damn, sarge, ya got me. I plead guilty on all counts and sentence myself to a hundred hours of community service to begin immediately.”

Swapping to the stallion’s voice, he continues, “Oh, and by the way, welcome back, your highness. Good morning. We missed you more than words can express.”

A little hop to his left has him switching back to his own. “Oh, hey, sarge! Good to see you! I really missed you all, too! Did you enjoy your downtime the last few weeks?”

Hopping to his right, he swaps again. “You bet, we did! We’re rested and ready to rock, now, though, sir! Lead the way!” he exclaims, thrusting a hoof to the hospital doors.

Back to his left, he continues the single-colt conversation, firing off a crisp wing salute to the imaginary stallion on his right. “Awesome, sarge! Glad to hear it! Let’s get this show on the road!”

Twist and Strafe both shake and snort in their armor, doing their very best not to laugh out loud. The dark earth pony stallion watches resigned to his fate, sighing when the colt finally finishes. “Very amusing, sir,” Blackhoof dryly notes.

“I’m glad you think so, sarge. Let’s get moving, though,” he commands, slipping past the three. “I’m sure there’s at least a few ponies that are just dying to see me.” The stallion’s quiet groan is magic to the colt’s ears.

Entering the lobby, Serpentus is unsurprised to spot Dr. Care waiting for him by the main reception desk. She meets his eyes and tilts her head to her side, motioning for him to follow. He breaks into a quicker trot until he catches up, alighting to her right while she makes her way through the corridors leading to the ICU. “Good mornin, colt. Neat show out there. Please never, ever do it again.”

“Aww. No fun,” he grumps, shooting her a pitiful pout. He can almost hear the victorious smile on the sergeant’s muzzle.

“Glad you’re back, by the way.”

“Glad to be back, doc. Miss me?”

She gives him an evaluating look. “For the most part.”

“Breakin my heart, here, doc.”

“I’m sure you’ll live. In all seriousness, I hate that this’ll be the first thing you have to deal with, buuuut…”

Serpentus sighs and looks up, cocking a brow in question.

“... we have a bit of a… well, a mess, basically.” Stopping just far enough from the ICU doors that they won’t hit them if somepony rushes through, she explains, “Your life support plants have really come through. One of our ‘close calls’ is Lord Worthington Clearport. He took a bad spill Wednesday evening when coming home from the golf course. His front hoof slid off the step when he was stepping out of his carriage and he went down horn first. He hit hard. Had to be airlifted from the Parkdale clinic. We stabilized him, but… well, the lights are on. I don’t know if you recognize the name,” she trails off in question.

“Some kind of shipping magnate, right?”

“Exactly,” she confirms with a nod. “He was apparently managing the household affairs by himself. His wife is demented enough that she can no longer make sound decisions for them.”

“How demented, exactly?”

The mare wavers a hoof in the air, answering, “She remembers her own name. She usually knows who he is, even if she gets it a little mixed up sometimes. She’s referred to him as her sire once or twice. As far as what year it is? What day it is? How to do… Well, really, much of anything? Not so much. Lord Clearport apparently took care of almost everything.”

“Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“Their eldest daughter, Midday Clearport, petitioned and was granted emergency power of attorney sometime Friday afternoon. She is here with her attorney demanding that life supporting measures be removed. As one might expect, she stands to inherit a sizable fortune once her parents are gone. Even with her dam alive, demeted as she is, she’ll have full control over the estate."

“Oh. Well, sucks for her,” he flippantly comments. “I don’t answer to the courts.”

“Exactly.” She looks to the doors then back to the colt. “You ready for this?”

Serpentus’ wings stretch up off his back and any hint of informality vanishes in an instant. Not waiting for the doctor to lead the way, he gives the doors a firm shove with his Telekinesis and strolls into the ICU lobby. Nopony in particular stands out as his pans his gaze across the room, but the nurse at the main desk looks positively relieved to see him. She silently points a hoof to the doors leading back into the ICU proper.

Nodding in acceptance, he makes his way there, only pausing for a moment to cast Cleaning on himself and his guards. Dr. Nala is just down the hall, arguing in hushed tones with two unicorns that have their rears turned towards him. The opening doors and outstretched wings immediately draw the zebra’s attention, and a relieved smile stretches across her muzzle. Realizing that somepony important has arrived, both unicorns look over their withers as well. When her eyes land on the colt the mare's horn ignites, snatching a small stack of papers out of the doctor’s grip.

“Your highness!” the mare greets, moving to block his path. Serpentus estimates her to be in her late fifties or early sixties, which isn’t exactly old even for a unicorn, but is well outside what most would consider young. Despite her age, she moves with the grace of a pony half her age. Dropping smoothly to one knee, she bows her head and turns, aiming her horn slightly to his left. “Lady Midday Clearport, at your service, my prince. I am positively thrilled to make your acquaintance,” she warmly calls out, “even if the circumstances leave much to be desired.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Clearport. You may rise.”

Rising every bit as gracefully back to her hooves, she stands tall and proud with her chest thrust out. “The pleasure is all mine, your highness. I presume your highness has been asked to see my sire, Lord Clearport?”

“You presume correctly. I understand you have been granted emergency power of attorney to act on behalf of your sire?”

“That is correct, your highness. I have the court approved paperwork right here.” Said documents are held in her aura to the young alicorn who takes them with a grateful nod.

He spends a moment reading over the papers, not really knowing what to look for. The basics are all there, as best he can tell, but if there’s some loophole or exception written into the document there is absolutely no chance he could catch it. He doesn’t let that bother him, though. “I see. It looks like everything is in order. As I understand it, you have asked that hospital staff remove any life preserving measures, correct?”

“That is correct, your highness.”

“Have they done so yet?”

“No, your highness. This… zebra has physically barred our path, refusing to budge despite my attorney’s insistence.”

Serpentus looks past the unicorn to the doctor. “Doctor Nala? Is Lady Clearport’s statement accurate?”

Confused by the foal’s unusually formal tone, the doctor hesitates for a bare instant before rallying. “I was only trying to explain-”

“Apologies for interrupting,” he begins, “but a simple yes or no will suffice, doctor.”

Barely holding back a scowl, the mare barks back in answer, “Yes, your highness.”

“Please stand aside, then, and I will ensure that it is done. Lady Clearport? I would ask that you wait here. A mare of your standing need not be present for such things, after all.”

Delighted at the turn of events, the unicorn excitedly bobs her head and steps aside, bowing as Serpentus walks by. The attorney does the same, otherwise making no move to speak up or intervene. Dr. Nala, on the other hoof, does not budge and stays standing in his way even when he looks up at her. She stares defiantly down at the shorter alicorn, then looks up to Dr. Care by his side. Dr. Care gives her a small nod and tilts her head to the side. The zebra’s shoulders sink. Resigned, she steps to the side.

“Actually, Dr. Nala, please accompany me so that I may instruct you on the proper way to remove the equipment.”

Scowling balefully, the mare begins to protest. “I know how to -”

“Now, please,” he stoically insists.

Seething so badly her face and neck are striped black and red, the mare dutifully follows the prince and other doctor into the room.

Serpentus lights up his horn, closing the door behind her. “Fuuuck meeee,” he finally groans, wings falling back down to his sides. Head tilted back as far as it can go, his eyes flick over to the green mare. “I gotta say, doc, I’ve never seen somepony be so polite and formal while insisting their friggin sire be effectively euthanized. That’s some cold ass shit right there.”

“Right?” she agreeingly chuckles. “Not the worst I’ve ever seen, but top ten, at least.”

“Ugh. I don’t think I want to know number one.” He turns to regard the zebra, finding her both confused and enraged. “Easy, doc. I’m not killing the dude.”

“But,” she begins, anger subsumed by puzzlement, “you just said -”

“I said I would be removing him from life preserving measures. He won’t need ‘em in a minute.” Rearing up to look at the stallion in bed, Serpentus lights up his horn and begins his work. Dr. Care rushes to the other side, lighting her horn to cast some kind of diagnostic spell. Slowing his work slightly for the mare to more easily observe, he turns to look at the watching zebra. “Ya gotta have a little more faith, Dr. Nala. Nopony’s dying on my watch.”

“I… apologize, your highness. I should have known better.”

“Apology accepted, doc. Don’t worry about it.” He looks to Dr. Care and asks, “So what are the odds we can get his wife in for an appointment sometime in the next week or so?”

“Pretty good, I bet,” she comments. “Are you going to start seeing every elderly pony in the city, sir?”

“Aww, doc, I’ll see you right now if you want.”

The unicorn shoots him a glare. “I know where you work, colt.”

He holds his hooves up in surrender. He spends a moment pondering the question before nodding. “You know what? I know you were joking, but that actually sounds like a pretty good idea. It would definitely be better than seeing them like this. I was going to talk to you about a few things later. Increasing my hours, adding additional days, planning out some medical trials… maybe we can add that to the list.”

“Sounds good to me. Lunch?”

“That’ll work.”

“Question.”

“Hm?”

“Which one of us gets to tell Lady Clearport that her sire is going to make a full recovery?”

For the first time in the entire morning, a genuine smile stretches across Dr. Nala’s muzzle.

Author's Note

Alright, I hate to do this, but I am running super behind. I have given this a couple once-overs, but won't have the time to really sit down and go through it in detail like I normally do before hitting publish. I probably won't have a chance to come back and fix everything until tomorrow, but I didn't want to wait any longer to get this one out there.

Only one other chapter I've done in this format comes to mind. The chapter where Solar leaves for the guard is what I'm referring to. I usually try to have much more dialog and less narrative, but that's not the "feel" I was going for at the start of this one. Hopefully I hit somewhere close to the mark.

The next chapter will be the long awaited Filly chapter. I've got a lot of work to do to get it ready, so bear with me!

As always, thank you all for your continued support. Also, thank you for rating and commenting on the story. I try not to interject my thoughts and opinions into the comments area - I use the A/N for that when appropriate - but I do read them.

Enjoy!

Oh, I almost forgot. I don't normally refer to Cure as Serpentus even when he is in disguise, but since we were seeing him in two places at approximately the same times I figured it would be best to use the appropriate name in its related section. Hopefully that didn't come off as too weird.

Edit:
Okay, I came back and corrected everything and realized that I had somehow wonked up the dates starting back in like... chapter 113? 112? I. I had two chapters on the same day but put the next date even when the day remained the same. So, "Tuesday, September 8th" then "Tuesday, September 9th", for example. Anyhow, I'm sure you're all devastated that such a horrible mistake could happen. I know I am. It's fixed now, though, so take a deep breath and we'll all get through this together. Somehow.

I also knocked out the typos that were pointed out, so thanks for that, folks!