Monday, June 8th, 909 AB (the next morning)

Waking up to the gentle rapping of a hoof on his bedroom door, Cure feels like he can barely muster the energy to call out. The previous day had been long and tiring, and the conversation with the princess was every bit, if not more taxing than helping dozens upon dozens of dams give birth.

Despite that, with the divulgence of the most important issues he feels a sense of relief that not only did the princess believe him, she had already taken a few actions based on the tidbits he had shared before.

He’s sure there will be plenty more things that spark memories in the future, but hopefully by then he’ll be powerful enough that, if he deems it necessary, he’ll be able to take direct action to address them. It’s a shame that Ed barely watched the show, but at least the several hundreds of stories he read online stuck with him fairly well.

Another soft knock on the door precludes it cracking open enough for the snout, horn, and head of the servant assigned to him to poke their way inside. “Lord Serpeeeeentus! It’s time to wakey wakey, young master!”

Cure takes a deep breath, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his dam before formulating a brilliant yet succinct response. “Blurg.”

Glissando Slide giggles into her hoof and pushes the door all of the way open, making her way to his bedside. “Come, come, now, your highness,” she coos as she half climbs on his bed. Her soft snout presses gently into his mane as she continues in a sing-song, “Her majesty will be raising her sun any moment. Let’s get you all cleaned up for breakfast!”

Laid on his left side and still tightly latched onto Snuggling Vines’ belly, Cure lets out a foalish whine and feebly slaps at the unwelcome intruder with his right wing. “Don’t wanna. Comfy.”

“Weeelllllllllll,” she begins, drawing out the word as she looks him over, “I suppose you are awfully young…”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, wiggling this chin against his temporary dam-substitute’s neck.

“... and growing colts do need their sleep.”

“Yeah! More sleeps!” he shouts, raising his wing in a cheer.

“Mmhmm. So I’ll just go tell her majesty you’ve decided to cancel all your appointments today,” she says as she climbs back off the bed. “All those poor pregnant mares will be super sad, but I’m sure they and their innocent, adorable colts and fillies will be okay,” she insists in an exaggerated pouty voice.

“Ugh. Fiiiine,” he whines, grumbling as he rolls to his rump, half laying on the plushie's barrel. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a fetlock as the maid skips back to his bedside. He turns and gives her a weak glare over his withers, asking, “You do realize you’re guilting a foal to get up and work for free, right?”

She gives him the most exaggerated eye roll she can muster. “Were you really wanting to go back to sleep?”

He pouts and turns away. “Maybe.”

“Suuure you were,” she mockingly agrees with a disbelieving nod. “Now come along,” she calls, prodding at his mane with her snout again. “Breakfast will be ready in an hour. Let’s go get you all cleaned up and ready for the day before it’s time to eat. We wouldn’t want to keep her majesty waiting, would we?”

Cure sighs while nodding. He turns and climbs off of the bed, following the pale cream unicorn servant into the bathroom. Another grumble escapes him as he quickly adjusts his eyes to the brighter bathroom lights, shooting a brief scowl at the offending fixture overhead.

Ignoring the surly colt’s grumbles, she sits on her haunches and gives his horn a quick inspection. Upon determining it is not in need of a filling she turns to get the shower ready. He waits patiently as she adjusts the knobs to get the temperature just right. Satisfied the colt won’t get burned she gives him a nod and he hops right in. A set of brushes float over and the mare gets to work.

Cure is pretty sure the servants know he’s not really a typical foal, beyond even his status as an alicorn. They were, after all, present just a month ago when he was very conspicuously running around in his normal colors with both wings and horn visible, knocking out guards and contributing to a lot of exploded windows. All four sets of Elite Royal Guards absolutely know his true identity as two of them directly witnessed his ascension and return.

Regardless, the staff’s duties include attending him just like they would Celestia or any other royal. He could be ready to go in thirty seconds with a quick application of Cleaning and the use of his talent, but there’s no particular rush and he’s not opposed to a little pampering. A bath sounds nice, but he’ll save that for bedtime; nothing puts him to sleep faster than a luxurious hot soak and that wouldn’t be conducive to the goal of getting him moving right now.

It’s a little odd to have a mare that isn’t his dam or mom bathe him, but he can’t deny that standing under the hot water and being brushed and cleaned by her feels absolutely fantastic. By typical human standards it would be extremely unusual, but given his age and quasi-royal status it’s just what’s expected.

She starts by meticulously and carefully cleaning his face, scrubbing away what little eye gunk he’d accumulated overnight, giving his horn a quick scrub, then gently wiping down his brow, muzzle, cheeks, chin, and ears before starting on his mane. He’d shown and told her yesterday about his nictitating membranes, so she doesn’t bat an eye at him not even blinking when she pulls the showerhead down and the water blasts right in his face.

“Wings,” she calls, prompting him to lift them, spreading his feathers wide. The soapy brushes gracefully slide along the undersides of his wings and sides of his barrel, removing very little due to the lack of flight time since yesterday morning. The mare’s motions are soothing enough Cure has to keep lifting his slowly drooping head, something she’s definitely caught given the subtle smirk she’s sporting.

“Turn,” she commands next, prompting him to face away and sit, once again spreading his wings upwards so she can more easily see what she’s doing while scrubbing the top of them and his back. He’s jolted back awake when she gives him a small magical poke in the hip, once again prompting him to turn to face the showerhead with her on his right side.

With his wings, sides, and upper back all washed she massages the soap into his lower back, croup, dock, and tail. Once his back half is nice and polished it’s time for his chest, barrel, pits, and, eventually, his undercarriage to be gently scrubbed, starting from his chest and not stopping until she’s at his tail again. It’s all just part of the process, but having his balls and sheath thoroughly attended to by somepony that’s not a lover will never not be a tiny bit weird.

Of course, proper hygiene dictates that the royal johnson, unsheathed, needs cleaning too and, young colt or not, Cure simply cannot abide presenting with a piece of equipment that doesn’t match his station. He flexes a muscle to push out of his sheath just like when he pees and does his best to ignore the magic-held washrag as it scrubs his flaccid member. After nine months of bathing with his dam and moms since his memories returned it just isn’t that big of a deal anymore.

He kind of wonders if this is really how royalty used to be treated on Earth centuries ago, or if it was just something that whoever wrote “Coming to America” thought would be funny. He never paid enough attention to the British Royals, so for the time being it will remain a mystery whether Queen Elizabeth has a designated bather or if she polishes her own posterior.

Thankfully, Sandy is a consummate professional about the whole affair and, as a result, the experience of having his wiener gently washed is about as erotic as a medical exam would be. He knows he could likely insist he do all this himself, but then the gossipers would probably focus on why since not having a servant bathe him would be the stranger of the two options.

There’s also the fact that he genuinely doesn’t care if she has a good, long look at it. The entirety of hundreds upon hundreds of mares, and far fewer stallions, griffons, minotaurs, zebras, hippogriffs, a dragon, and even Princess Celestia herself have all been laid bare before him by his talent. Acting weird over a single servant seeing his dick as part of fulfilling her duties would make him a pretty big hypocrite.

He has no doubt that a word or two about his anatomy will inevitably slip at some point. As much as seeing crotches is part and parcel of daily pony life, almost nopony has any idea what a male alicorn’s junk should look like, so it’s naturally a curiosity. Based on his appearance immediately after his ascension, it’s nothing particularly special beyond being slightly larger than what a healthy earth pony is packing. His body, overall shape-wise, barely changed after he blew up, even if there were a number of internal differences.

Still, there’s the expectation that an alicorn absolutely has to be more in every way. It brings up a number of interesting questions. If somepony can literally look however they want, what things are acceptable and what would not be? Is being every mare’s wet dream expected of him or is it an abuse of his talent? Is he taking advantage of a gift or is he simply doing what anypony else would naturally do?

He’s of the opinion that everything is fair game. After all, he’s not doing anything to himself that a well-paying customer couldn’t get from him as well, eventually.

He believes that bearing the mantle of Alicorn of Life further justifies his opinion. Just as the Alicorn of the Sun is responsible for bringing the day, he will be expected to bring life wherever he goes. The obvious solution would be to encourage artificial insemination but, culturally, past attempts to expand the practice have been largely unsuccessful, giving rise to an entire branch of Health Services matching mares with willing partners.

Mares that are highly adverse to having sex with a stallion have little issue with the option, but studies commissioned by the princess have indicated the foals are initially magically weaker than ones conceived naturally. As she explained when discussing the Colt Trees’ theoretical impact on society, whatever spark passes between a couple burns brighter the deeper the connection. Completely removing half of the equation works biologically, but even purely homosexual mares still overwhelmingly prefer enduring the brief attention of a male if it means even a slightly healthier foal as a result.

There’s also the unspoken truth that many mares just want to, but don’t get the opportunity to, get dick every so often. Everypony knows a mare can get pregnant using alternative means, but ponies can also live just fine without sugary sweets; that doesn’t mean many will take a rice cake when a banana split is on the menu.

Cure had at one point made a comment about creating sex toys to sell. It’s not something he’s prepared to deal with right now, but he is absolutely confident he could create an artificial pair of testicles and a weiner that could attach to a mare. He hasn’t drawn up the designs, and he’s not sure how well it would be received, but there’s no reason he can come up with that such a unit could not be used to impregnate another mare.

The major shortcoming with that approach would be that the “donor” would only have X chromosomes to give, so any foal conceived in such a manner could only be a filly. It would still be a massive leap forward for homosexual mares, allowing couples the option of having a foal that is, in every way, theirs and theirs alone.

Worth noting, prostitution is also completely legal even outside of estrus seasons. That’s no surprise given that the majority of dangers and associated problems in human society are either mostly mitigated or completely absent. That’s partially due to the fact that the larger, slightly stronger members of society are usually the ones selling their services.

Sexually transmitted diseases are few and far between, not to mention more easily treated thanks to magical medicines. The risk of accidental pregnancy is effectively zero for about forty-six weeks of the year, and most stallions stop working a little early to be “fully stocked” for the season. They also don’t want to accidentally give a freebie foal away, as the price of service jumps with the increased demand when heat hits.

A halt to the mare’s ministrations draws Cure’s attention back to the waking world. With his penis adequately cleansed, he leans back to let the water run over and down his face, neck, and barrel. Sandy grabs the second showerhead in her magic and rinses his underbarrel, then gets the last of the shampoo out of his tail.

Thoroughly cleansed, he waits for the water to turn off and steps out of the stall, dripping profusely from snout to tail. Not one to pass an opportunity, Cure pops his wings up high and gets ready to do his best impression of a wet dog.

“YOUR HIGHNESS! NOOO!” she shrieks as she rears back, shielding her face with her forelegs. The colt hesitates, sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Don’t you give me that look!” she scolds, “I’ve already showered before work, I don’t need to spend any more time trying to get my mane right!”

“Fiiine,” he despondently sulks. “Was just tryin ta dry off faster,” he quietly insists, pawing at the wet tile floor.

“Somehow, I am not completely sure you were trying to be helpful,” she argues as she begins toweling him dry.

“’Mornin, boss,” he calls, hopping on the bench to the princess’s side. His buns barely settle on the seat and a tray laden with fruit, oats, milk, and coffee nearly materializes in front of him courtesy of the wait staff. He calls out a quick thanks before turning back to the mare. “Sleep well?”

“A good morning to you as well, Serpentus,” she warmly greets. Though nopony is within immediate hearing range, staff are buzzing about enough to stick to his alias. “I admit, I did not get as much sleep as I would have liked to,” she says with a sigh. In a more dour tone she complains, “Somepony gave me much to think about just before bedtime, unfortunately.”

“Poor thing,” he laments, reaching over to pat her left hoof consolingly. “Don’t ponies know you need your beauty sleep? They just don’t appreciate how much effort it takes to maintain that level,” he waves his wing in her direction, “of magnificence. This fella sounds like a jerk,” he finishes with a firm nod as he crams a spoonful of oats in his mouth.

“He can be a little trying at times,” she lightly agrees. “Especially when he speaks so passionately about breaking my poor heart and abandoning me.”

“Well thank the maker you got me, boss!” he proudly declares. “There ain’t nopony alive more loyal than yours truly. Why, just point the ingrate out ta me next time ya see ‘em and I promise,” he leans over the table and holds a hoof conspiratorially beside his muzzle, whisping, “nopony’ll ever see ‘em again,” he insists, sitting back and dragging the edge of his hoof across his throat.

“That…” she furrows her brow in consideration. “I would normally dismiss such assertions from a foal.”

Cure shrugs and leans back onto his seat to continue eating. “The zoo is the closest I’ve ever come to causing harm with my talent, and I can’t imagine many situations where I would do worse than I did on the train. That said, you watched me turn a bunch of plants into an alicorn suit. Doing the opposite, if anything, is technically easier once I have more magic.”

Celestia is perfectly aware that the colt has a kilometer wide protective streak in him. She’ll never forget what he said when she commented on the maladies he could have inflicted on his attackers. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.” With the knowledge she has now she can’t help but wonder just how truly horrific a fate could have befallen them if they had attacked at another time, or succeeded in hurting somepony he cares about.

Unaware of her silent contemplation, Cure asks, “I didn’t destroy your worldview too much last night, did I?”

Celestia blinks as her focus is drawn back to the conversation. She tilts her head from side to side in a so-so motion and replies, “Not as such, no. What we discussed went far beyond what I had anticipated, but when you have been around as long as I have you tend to somewhat expect the unexpected. Though there is much to do we, fortunately, have an abundance of time with which to gather information and, if necessary, to act.”

“True. So what’s the schedule for today? I mean, I know we’re going back to do the same thing, basically, but what about afterwards?”

“That will depend on you,” she answers leadingly. At his questioning look she explains, “I was wondering if, after you are done for the day, you would like to join me in some magical exercises. I did not want to overwork you, but if you feel up to it later you may benefit from some practice with fine manipulation.”

Cure’s eyes light up in excitement as he eagerly nods his head. “That sounds awesome, princess! What kinda exercises?”

Celestia can’t help but smile at the enthusiastic response from the nearly bouncing colt. “There are several available options that you may enjoy. I worry that perhaps you may not have enough practice with your horn for some, but at the very least you will gain valuable insight on how to train yourself at home.”

“Cool. Dawn and I have been doin some stuff kinda like I practiced with the whole TK field,” he explains. He passes his spoon to his left hoof and reaches his right out towards the fork and butterknife beside his bowl. Once within range the pair stand at attention like marching soldiers and move in bouncing hops up the top of his foreleg, around his shoulder, then repeat the process upside down until they’re deposited back on his napkin.

“That was very impressive,” she sincerely praises. “I imagine that gives you a significant advantage in your training with Lt. Silver.”

“It would, but I don’t use it there. I figure I’ll have to get enough experience fighting like a bat or pegasus, then figure out how to incorporate that as well as magic, eventually. Then I’ll have a good idea how to keep ponies safe no matter what tools are available to me.”

She gives a nod of approval while commenting, “A wise choice. It’s a shame we will not be able to spar for some time. I suspect we could learn much from the experience. Luna and I took care not to injure each other before we discovered…” she trails off with a meaningful look.

“Not even nine and she already looks forward to punching me in the face,” he sighs, hanging his head in dejection.

Still facing down, he slowly floats a folded piece of paper in front of the princess. Gingerly taking it in a hoof, she unfolds it, reads the note, raises a brow at the colt, and sets the note aside. “I am not saying that,” she stalwartly insists.

He rocks back, groaning as he looks up at the ceiling. “Aww, come on, boss!” He thrusts both hooves at the note and complains, “That right there is Grade A banter!”

“I am not going to, within earshot of anypony that could overhear and misinterpret, say…” she stops suddenly and scowls.

The colt gets a wide grin on his face and, in a perfect replication of her voice and tone, shouts, “Well you do have a very punchable face!”

The princess’s eyes go wide when a soft gasp escapes a mare pushing a cart in to refresh their drinks. The servant freezes as she looks between the two, noting the colt’s mirthful shaking and the princess’s horrified look. She tilts her head in thought and slowly nods, “Now that you mention it, your majesty, I think I see it…”

Celestia sighs into a facehoof, hanging her head in disappointment while Cure leaps up onto his hind legs to cheer. “Nice! See! Yer staff know how ta do it!” She can’t help but shake her head as he hops down, runs behind her back, gives the giggling mare a high-hoof, and rushes back to the table to finish his meal, bouncing giddily in his seat.

“I suppose I should be happy to see that you are well rested after yesterday,” she idly comments.

“Oh yeah, that mattress, boss,” he throws his head back and moans in bliss as he does a full-bodied roll from the hips. “Definitely gotta get some’a them for home. I’m thinking my endurance must’a got a boost too. I used way, way more magic yesterday and even though there was kind of… a weariness, maybe?” he suggests in a questioning tone. At her nod he shrugs and continues, “Yeah, that’s about right. Even if I could feel some fatigue it wasn’t like I was gonna crash like I did last time.”

“It is because the source of your fatigue was magical exhaustion,” she explains. “Keeping with the muscle analogy, you had ‘exercised’ vigorously all day long with little rest. If it were physical labor then your earth pony resilience would have helped you endure.”

“Ah, so my ‘magical muscles’ are a lot stronger, basically.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums as she swallows a bite of her breakfast.

“Shame I can’t flex them puppies.”

“In a way, you can. Observe.” With no visible change in the room, Cure suddenly feels a pressure much as he had when she first saw his horn and wings and, again, when she’d been enraged at the noble who attempted to foalnap him.

It subsides only a moment later as she explains, “You will continue to grow and become stronger with time. Eventually you will be capable of channeling your magic directly into the air around you, suffusing the area with raw power and intent. It is a very effective, if somewhat costly, way to subdue a weaker adversary without the need for any violence.”

“Woah. That was pretty hardcore, boss,” he excitedly beams.

“Indeed. You can do this with both pools of magic once you learn sufficient control. As you may imagine, the effect is far more pronounced with the other pool. I will not demonstrate it due to the oppressive nature, but the effect is quite significant on mortals. Particularly less magically powerful creatures.”

“I bet.”

She continues, “Still, even with your still-growing capacity your contribution yesterday was astounding. As I understand it, inducing labor is normally difficult and can be painful, not to mention a slow process.

“That alone is a blessing; that you could also eliminate their delivery pains…” she drifts off, closing her eyes and softly shaking her head. “I suspect a few statues will be the least of your concerns. Hopefully you will not have to deal with some sort of religion deifying you at some point.”

“That would be really bizarre to have to deal with,” he agrees. “I’m guessing that’s been done before?”

A deep frown crosses the princess’s face as she slowly nods. “Only a few times. None of them got very far before I was able to intervene. I don’t mind my little ponies’ appreciation, but I would prefer they show it by helping others rather than starting some silly cult in my name.”

Celestia scowls off at the distance and grumbles, “One particularly infuriating stallion attempted to use my status as the Alicorn of the Sun to besmirch members of the bat pony nobility. A foolish notion given that I bestowed those titles upon them myself.”

“Why?” he asks, brows pinched in confusion.

A deep sigh accompanies her explanation. “As I mentioned last night, some ponies see anypony else being elevated as a weakening of their own position.”

“Crabs in a barrel,” he says with an understanding nod. Apparently the princess isn’t exactly up on her crab fisherman idioms as she tilts her head in question. “When they catch crabs they put them in a barrel ‘till they get to shore. Dunno if it’s true, but supposedly you don’t have to put a lid on the barrel ‘cause when one tries to make a break for it another will latch on and pull that crab back in to try to get out themselves. At least, that’s how it was,” he waves a hoof over his shoulder to indicate “back there. Maybe they’re smarter here.”

“An apt analogy,” she agrees. “The stallion infuriated me so much that I remember his name to this day,” she continues. “Plentiful Supply believed the Knight title conveyed advantageous interest rates on business loans and better location options. He sought to head off a retired guard and competing store owner by making unfounded claims about nocturnal creatures.”

A snorted laugh escapes the colt before he stops himself. In a more subdued tone he commiserates, “Yeah, that’s probably not the best argument somepony could bring before you. Was this before or after… ya know?”

“Barely twenty years after. The sire’s service during the attempted coup is what prompted me to knight him. Obsidian Blade served for nearly forty years while his wives, then foals, managed their family’s businesses. His first wife in particular helped in the organization of the city’s shopping districts.” More heatedly she adds, “Supply envied their financial success. He specifically cited Nightmare Moon’s betrayal as proof that ‘Creatures of the night cannot be trusted.’”

Cure doesn’t bother suppressing the wince from that statement at all. “Ohhh wow. That level of ignorance goes right past moronic and loops nearly all the way back around to impressive.”

In a clipped tone, Celestia disagrees. “I assure you, I was not at all impressed when I arrived to find him attempting to rile up a mob.”

“I’m sure not,” the colt agrees. “I know it hurts to talk about it, but it may be wise to begin planning on how we’re going to push Nightmare Night in a slightly different direction over the next ninety years. I have some ideas, but you know your ponies better than I do.”

“You may not be aware, but the holiday’s origin has nothing to do with my sister,” she explains in a sullen tone. “It began as a series of harvest festivals that were held even well before her banishment. It was not until right around four hundred and seventy years afterwards that the celebration changed. Countess Harlequin of New Horseleans became so enamored with the festivities in some of the northern cities’ suburbs that she proposed a city-wide masquerade party in her own. The public loved the idea and, after a couple years, it became an official local holiday.

“Word traveled, as it does, and other cities began mirroring the event. As a way to include foals, some began having more family-oriented events where, rather than a ‘masquerade’ they would assemble a costume with the help of their parents. The Mare in the Moon was a popular pick with fillies and, after only a few decades, the holiday and my sister became linked.”

“But… it’s an official national holiday now,” Cure states questioningly.

The princess takes a deep breath and sighs, her disappointment nearly palpable in the air. “As it gained in popularity a bill was proposed to officially recognize it as such. I… abstained. I declined vetoing it. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Cure sets his spoon down, climbs off his booster, walks to the princess’s side, rears up, and wraps her barrel in a hug, smushing his face into her soft wing. Her left foreleg wraps around his back and squeezes him tight. “Sorry I can’t get ya proper-like, boss. I would’a brought my suit if I’d known I’d need it.”

“Oh come now,” she gently calls, releasing him and shooing him back to his spot. “There’s no need for all that. As much as I regret my choice I know my little ponies have enjoyed centuries of joy as a result. I’m sure she will understand.”

Cure nods against her side, then releases her and returns to his place before responding. “I think if it’s explained like that she may. She definitely won’t want to have ponies run away from her screaming, though. What I was gonna suggest is to start pushing for it to be more of a celebration of the night itself.

“Maybe even spin it as a celebration of bat pony culture. I’m sure there’s lots about their tribe that most ponies don’t know, and maybe those southern tribes had some kinda holiday we could… appropriate for the holiday.

“Regardless of what’s done with the holiday, I think your sister’s existence needs to become public knowledge. Everypony thinks the Mare in the Moon is a myth. I say pin what happened on Sombra and paint her as a fallen hero instead of whatever actually happened.”

“Sombra?” she questions. “You… you think he may have been responsible somehow?”

Cure shrugs and gives her a nod. “Maybe? I mean, the alicorn amulet is his work and you told me it's full of corrupting dark magic. Maybe one of the attacks he launched at you two carried a subtle influence. I told ya, the prick’s all about mind control. Maybe he stoked the fires of her jealousy while causing her plight to escape your notice,” he suggests with another shrug. “Can you be sure he didn’t?”

“I find it unlikely,” she begins, pausing as Cure rolls his eyes.

“Not what I asked, boss. Can you tell me for sure that it would be impossible for a dark magic user of his power to pull off?”

“Not impossible, but -”

“Uh-uh!” he calls in a raised voice, waving his forelegs frantically side to side. “No buts. The only living witness isn’t sure, your honor. I propose that henceforth the possibility be considered unless contradictory evidence is discovered. In light of this suggestion, we should honor the mare who helped turn back this dark plague at the cost of her own freedom, and instead look forward to the return and redemption of our wayward heroine.”

A single tear is quickly wiped away as the princess nods her head in agreement. Nothing is said as the pair finish their meals; the only sounds come from the scraping of Cure’s spoon on the bottom of his bowl and the quiet click of a lowered mug.

“I almost forgot,” Celestia begins. “A friend of yours plans on stopping by the hospital today. I suspect she was able to piece your identity together, though she has kept it to herself as best we can tell.”

“It must be Dr. Dawn then. I figure she probably knew either as soon as she saw the serpent or whenever the papers identified me as a healer.” Celestia nods, confirming his guess as he shrugs indifferently. “She insisted her patients make appointments with me. I trust her. She was the first pony outside of my friends and family to discover my horn and I’m pretty sure she didn’t tell anypony.”

“When you fell asleep?” she correctly surmises.

“Yep. When they found me conked out she checked me over. Needless to say, she noticed some ‘irregularities,’” he explains with air quotes, “including a few I haven’t even told you about yet.”

“Do I need to know?”

“Eh, I don’t mind sharing. It was all stuff I added to make it harder to foalnap or kill me. I told you about the subdermal armor, but I also have a way to jolt my system back awake if I’m rendered unconscious. You know about my heightened senses. I had to add nerve clusters to properly process that information. You’re aware that different parts of the brain do different things, I’m guessing?”

With a slight cringe the princess slowly nods. “Yes. I have seen firsthoof the effects of injuries to different regions.”

“Right, I can fix some of that, but there’s a few areas that work together to coordinate movement. The motor cortex, basal ganglia, and cerebellum all contribute. Balance, posture, stuff like that? I have a whole secondary nexus tied into a network of sensory ganglia feeding it info. That’s how I learned to fly in only a few hours. Pair me up with the best dancer in the world, let me use my talent while observing them, and within a couple tries I’ll be able to duplicate what they’re doing perfectly.

“There’s also a few other things I did to make myself harder to kill off. I have an entirely functional backup cardiopulmonary system, so a crossbow bolt to my heart, if it got through my skin, would only stop me for a second. Dr. Dawn didn’t know what all she was seein when she scanned me, but we talked about it over the next few days while we worked together.”

Somewhat at a loss for words, Celestia simply stares dumbly at the insane colt.

“Maybe in a few years I’ll have enough magic that I can upgrade some of your special forces teams,” he suggests. “I’ll never be able to do everypony, but there’s no reason you couldn’t have a few squads of volunteer super soldiers for the really dangerous assignments.”

“I find myself simultaneously impressed and mildly horrified,” she admits. “I suspect even some of my elite squads would balk at the idea of modifying their body, but… Well, there’s always somepony willing to try, I suppose. As long as it is safe and purely voluntary I cannot think of a reason to prohibit it.”

“My dam’s kinda the same way,” he points out. “It usually doesn’t take more than a small demo for ponies to recognize the benefits. For example, I could pretty easily upgrade your sense of smell and taste.”

He waves at their finished meal and continues, “Every meal is an explosion of flavors beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. You would be able to pick out and experience every dash of herbs, every sprinkling of seasoning, all the hidden depths of the plate set before you.

“And, of course, that’s just the side benefit. What was more important for me was being able to identify ponies by scent even dozens, or depending on wind, hundreds of meters away. I know who is in a building before I even approach the door. I could even tell that your agent watching from down the street got coffee and a doughnut from the bakery near Town Hall instead of their usual oats and tea some mornings.”

He leans forward slightly and whispers, “You can even tell which of your guards and employees went out for a drink after work last night and, roughly, how much is still in their system.” A look of intrigue passes across her face as he continues, “Of course, the flip side is you’ll know exactly who is gettin busy with who, when, and exactly how good a job they do cleanin themselves up after the act or when they’ve used the potty.”

The princess recoils with a disgusted look as the colt chuckles. “It’s not as bad as you’d think. Scents go from being gross to… well, not pleasant, but just, ya know… a thing. Part of the package is being able to increase or decrease your sensitivity, so you can, whenever you choose and without my help, go from ‘off’ to baseline to ‘way better than a bloodhound’ within a few seconds.”

He inclines his head in thought and comments, “That would be a pretty useful upgrade for your customs and border patrol guards, really, which is something I hadn’t thought of before.”

“I appreciate the offer,” she begins, “but perhaps when I’ve had time to put more thought into such a decision we can discuss it further. For now, I believe we really must get moving. Your first appointments should be arriving at the hospital in about forty-five minutes.”

“Good point, boss. Let’s roll.”

The pair’s arrival at the hospital draws quite a bit larger crowd than it had the previous day. Members of the press stand behind a barricade to the left and slightly behind their carriage and shout questions while the guard squads escorting them form a cleared walkway, and a slightly higher volume of expecting dams and their families are making their way in from all directions.

Cordoned off, out of the way of everypony else and surrounded by guards are a small group of ponies Cure never expected to see: protesters. Although he can’t see much through the throng of guards and other bodies between himself and the group, he can make out at least a few signs displaying his X’ed out cutie mark. The very idea that protesters even exist in Equestria never occurred to the colt. He certainly never anticipated somepony ballsy enough to protest here of all places.

“Princess?” he calls, getting the mare’s attention as she descends from the carriage. “What’s with all’a them?” he asks, tilting his head in their direction.

She lets out a long suffering sigh and, with a roll of her eyes, she explains, “Pay them no heed; it is inevitable that, no matter what, some ponies will find something to object to. The price for the freedom of speech, unfortunately, is that even fools are allowed to take advantage of it.”

Unable to read their signs from his vantage, he spreads his wings and hops in the air, hovering to the princess’s right as the pair make their way towards the hospital. Sure enough, they appear to be protesting him, though he can’t make out exactly what about him they are protesting. “They’re protesting what, though? That a colt not even ten years old flew halfway across the country and is workin nine hour shifts for free helping expecting dams?” He knows he’s probably not really the target of their ire, if they even have one. In all likelihood, he figures, the fact that there’s a crowd and media present is the real reason they are here.

“Who knows?” she dismissively answers. The way she ruffles her wings shows how truly annoyed she is with them. “As I said, they are fools and ingrates. They are not worth the trouble or effort of even acknowledging.” Her tone and words kind of surprise the colt. She strikes him as a font of near infinite patience, normally, especially for her “little ponies.” At the same time, he is aware that it’s far easier to dismiss stupidity when you yourself are the target. He figures she’s a little more miffed that, instead, they’re protesting him; a foal that she is acting as a guardian for, even if temporarily.

“We could ignore them,” he agrees, “ooorrr,” he slowly responds, dropping back to the ground, “we destroy them!” he quietly cheers with a distinctly predatory smile. The colt takes off, trotting in front of the carriage and diving through the line of guards blocking their walkway. A few yelps of surprise sound from his guards out as he trots closer to the group.

He can hear them rushing to catch up, preparing to interpose themselves between him and the already existing line of guards blocking the protesters. A raised wing and a glance over his withers slows the troops as Cure positions himself almost directly between the group and the frantically shouting reporters.

He plants himself on his rear, front facing towards the dozen screaming ponies as they shout about privileged alicorns, an unfair balance of power, wasting taxpayer bits, and a number of other allegations that make little or no sense. With drooping ears and wings and a sagging tail he turns to look at the reporters over his withers and gives them the saddest, most soulful wet-eyed look he can conjure; a terrifying weapon given his talent’s use in accentuating his features.

Flashes from dozens of cameras erupt from the crowd as several hardened newsponies coo and aww in synchronicity, then cast furious gazes at the protesters. Cure hangs his head, looks to the guards trailing behind him, and softly says, “But I just wanna help ponies.”

The princess emerges from the group of guards, looks down at the pitiable colt, glances to the abashed and suddenly quieted protesters, and sighs in disappointment. “Come along, Serpentus. I believe your first appointment is waiting inside. I’m sure the new dams will appreciate everything you are doing.”

“Okay princess,” he quietly responds as he stands and begins walking back to her side. He gives her right foreleg thigh a nuzzle as he walks by and she leans down to nuzzle into his mane. He makes his way to the hospital’s front door, disappearing from view. Celestia only spares the disheartened protesters a moment’s glance before she follows him in; the pair’s six heavy guards and Lt. Spear right on her tail. They find the colt waiting inside, just out of sight from the crowd, his cheerful demeanor back in place.

“‘Bout time, slowpokes. Geez, c’mon,” he calls, turning to resume his walk as the longer-legged members of the party easily catch up.

“I would prefer you not antagonize ponies,” she lightly scolds, “even if they seem like they may deserve it.”

“Aww, come on, boss! You saw how hard I shut ‘em down. Even odds they won’t show up tomorrow, especially when their friends and neighbors see those pictures. I'll give 'em credit for not hiding their identity, at least. Brave of 'em. Stupid, but brave.”

“Wait,” the lieutenant calls, shaking her head in disbelief. “You staged that whole thing?”

“Of course. Do you really think I care what a few morons think?” he asks with a scoff. “No way. The news, on the other hoof? I might as well’a served ‘em a bag’a bits on a platter with those pictures. Crap like that is a camera pony’s wet dr… err… bread and butter, especially the picture of our wonderful princess comforting the poor, disheartened colt.”

Lt. Spear glances over her withers to give the six guards a disbelieving look. A few amused smirks and some helpless shrugs are the only response she’ll get, so she turns back with a sigh. “Just… please, don’t put yourself in potentially dangerous situations. No more diving past security lines, okay?”

“I mean… since ya asked nicely, I guess. ‘Sides, not like I was in any danger.” Cure pauses and flips the switch back to his pathetic look as he turns to face the lieutenant. With his head tilted slightly down he paws at the floor, he asks, “You’d keep me safe, wouldn’t you?” The pegasus sucks in a breath, giving the colt a second to step closer, looking up to meet her widening eyes. “You won’t let the mean ponies hurt me, will you?” he continues, wings hugged tight to his body, lip quivering, and eyes brimming with hopeful tears.

Seeking to save her stricken lieutenant, Celestia extends her wing between the pair, cutting off the mare’s line of sight. “Quit harassing our guardians, please.” The lieutenant takes a shuddering breath and shakes herself out of the trance. She looks up gratefully at the ancient alicorn as Celestia nods down the hall towards their destination. “As you were, lieutenant.”

A mumbled “Dangerous” and an admiring “Impressive” are faintly heard from the six trailing behind them as the group gets moving again.

“Fiiine!” he whines. He rears up to clap his front hooves and sets off down the hall calling, “Let’s go bust some foals outta prison.”

Cure has come to the conclusion that either diabetes doesn’t afflict ponies, or it’s such a rare condition that he hasn’t seen a single indication of its development thus far. Considering that sugar is damn near its own food category for many mares, the princess and his mom included, he would have expected to encounter some signs of it if it were possible.

As a result, Cure has identified a third engineer for whom he may erect an altar to give thanks to along with whatever beings designed ponies’ buttholes and their esophageal sphincters. The pony pancreas engineer guy, sadly, will just have to be another unsung hero until such time as his (or her, he supposes) glorious visage is revealed to the grateful colt.

Cure’s seen only a few earth ponies with a little extra junk in the trunk and a fat pegasus is a very uncommon sight, but unicorns just don’t have to move as much with the reach and flexibility provided by their horns.

It’s a situation he finds himself in upon trotting into his first patient of the day’s room. A second mare, also of enhanced barrel circumference, is lounging off to the side as the earth pony nurse helps maneuver the, he’s guessing, pregnant one onto the birthing table. It’s a little difficult to tell given her physique.

Her darker gray coat and nearly white mane makes it really difficult for Cure not to envision a rhinoceros trying to climb up there instead of a pony, and he has to thank his talent’s control over his reactions to keep a snorted laugh from bubbling out of him.

The CNM and his assistant, both of whom are also unicorns, are reviewing the patient’s chart off to the side.

He kicks the door shut with his right hind hoof and calls out a greeting to everypony. “‘Mornin, y’all. Nurse Glade is still gettin the patient files organized. I know we’ve got one on the way,” he nods to the pregnant mare, “but little else. So… what’s up?”

“It’s my blood pressure,” the mare claims. “My doctor insisted I get an appointment with you, your highness.” A quick glance to the nurse in charge gets him a nod, though from the skeptical looks the stallion is giving the patient and her chart, Cure is easily able to read between the lines. Blood pressure may be the smoke, but the mare’s extra girth is the source of the fire.

“Ah. Well, high blood pressure can certainly be a problem. It’s been my experience that it’s more of a symptom than the cause of most health issues, though.”

Both mares share a confused look before turning back to the colt. “I’m perfectly healthy, though! What could possibly be causing high blood pressure of all things?!”

“Uhh… really?” he asks, glancing back and forth between the two. “Your doctor didn’t suggest any possible causes of your high blood pressure?” Both shake their heads no. All three medical professionals are looking on as if watching a train crash, waiting to see if he’ll somehow pop out the other side unscathed. “Well… offhoof, and keep in mind, I haven’t reviewed your medical history, the main culprit I’ve seen is usually diet-related.”

The other mare finally speaks up to argue, “That can’t be right! We eat healthy all the time!”

Cure’s pretty sure the pair are sisters. Though the other mare has a dark purple coat and a black mane their facial features are fairly similar, not to mention their scents being very close.

“Lots of veggies?” he asks, getting nods in return. “Fresh fruit?” Another round of nods answer. “Maybe your intake of carbohydrates is a smidge too high then?”

“Carbo-what-grapes?” the other mare asks, confusion evident on her face.

With no help coming from the medical team, Cure sits on his rear and starts naming possibilities, counting with his forehooves as he goes through the list. “Starches. Ya know, potatoes, pasta, beans, peas, oats, breads. That kinda stuff, basically. Of course the big thing I see a lot is sweets. Sugar products. Do you have more than a couple sweet treats every week?”

Both mares hesitate for a moment before the presumed sister hesitantly answers. “We… may have too many sweets. But mostly we eat healthy!”

“Well, there’s a lot of sugar in fruits too,” he explains. “Maybe it’s not so much an issue of what you’re eating. Too much of a good thing is still too much, after all. Again, I’m just tossing possibilities out there.”

The pregnant mare stops and gapes at the colt, then slowly turns to the other. With a completely bewildered tone she shouts, “Berry! I think he’s calling us fat!”

Cure, along with all three delivery team members freeze on the spot and go wide-eyed. Cure struggles to figure out how to respond, holding his hooves up, ready to placate the offended mare. He feels his wings raising off his back, but freezes in place when both mares suddenly burst out laughing.

“HAH! Look at ‘em!” the now named Berry shouts as she shakes in laughter. “Ohh, Brownie, honey, you got ‘em good! He looks like he’s about ready to panic!”

Brownie nods along, still laughing as she explains, “You’re not telling me anything my doctor hasn’t, highness. I hope you’re not upset, but I know I’ve got to get this weight off of me.”

Cure feels his wings sag, both in relief and in annoyance at the slight tease. “Well, you definitely got me there,” he admits to the laughing mares. Even the team members are chuckling as his panic ebbs away. “Alright, alright… you ready to get this show on the road?”

Done with his fifteenth patient of the morning, Cure steps out of the delivery room surprised to find the princess sitting at the nearby nurse’s station. Unbidden, the image of the lovely mare with a little nurse’s cap and a tight, white scrubs top with pink piping suddenly pop into his head.

The colt blinks a few times to clear out the bizarre thought while clip-clopping his way towards her as his guards file in behind him. A warm smile greets him when he rounds the desk and leans bodily into her side, nuzzling against her barrel just below her left wing.

“Not that I’m not delighted ta see ya, boss, but whatchya doin back here? Gonna try yer hoof at deliverin a few yerself?”

With a soft melodious laugh she shakes her head no. “I believe I will leave that to the professionals. I have lent a hoof in the delivery of several foals, particularly early on in my reign, but it would be a dire situation indeed if we were forced to rely on my expertise.” She pauses as she turns to look at one of the staff break rooms before continuing. “Director Storm says she has an announcement and requested my presence.”

“Ah. I bet we’re done with yer horniest ponies now. Time ta start on the flighty ones.”

Celestia closes her eyes and softly sighs. “Please never say that where anypony can hear you.”

Just as he opens his mouth to respond the meeting room door opens and the director steps out with a familiar cream colored unicorn trailing behind her. “Ears up everypony! I have a quick announcement!” she calls in a raised voice, “Every one of our known high-risk unicorn and the few earth pony patients have successfully delivered!”

A round of stomps, cheers, and a few whistles sound out as the mare continues, cheerily flapping her wings as she claps along. “Not only that, but thanks to your efforts,” she makes a point to stare right at him, “as well as our little miracle colt, we’ve had no stillbirths, no need for surgical intervention, and we’ve hardly had to dig into our supplies of pain medications at all!” Another round of cheers erupt as Celestia reaches down and presses the colt against her side.

“Now there’s still a lot of work to do, and I’m sure you’ve all noticed our other teams have started seeing an increase in the volume of walk-ins arriving already in labor, but I want everypony to find a moment to take a short break, come get a snack and some refreshments courtesy of Canterlot Confectionary Creations! Keep up the good work everyone!”

Cure looks up at the princess and asks, “Wanna go grab somethin, boss?”

She purses her lips and looks away. “Oh, I don’t know,” she airily responds, “I suppose it would be rude not to show my appreciation for their charitable contribution.”

“Oh yeah, downright inconsiderate, even,” Cure immediately agrees. “If you really wanna show your gratitude you should probably have three or four treats, minimum. I’m gonna go say hey to Dr. Dawn while you express the depths of your gratitude.” With one last nuzzle into her side he separates from the ancient mare and makes his way towards the director.

“Hey director,” he calls as he approaches, “do we have another volunteer joining us?” He turns to the revitalized unicorn and gives her a quick up-down before continuing. “You must be a recent grad from nursing school? This yer first time working the birthing season?”

“No, no!” Director Storm quickly waves in alarm. “Dr. Dawn is one of the lead obstetricians at the Canterlot University Medical Center! She’s been teaching there for over twenty years!”

Cure gawks at the doctor, shouting, “Whaaaaat? No way!”

“It’s true,” the doctor responds, barely holding back a laugh. She reaches out a hoof. “Dr. Crystal Dawn, your highness. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, doc,” he replies, giving her a bump. “Wait… Dr. Dawn? I think I’ve had more than a few of your patients come through here already. Ya know, there’s just one thing about this whole rigmarole,” he gestures to the area with a hoof, “I just don’t get, maybe you can explain it to me. Nopony else has been able to give me a straight answer, after all.”

“Oh? I’ll certainly do my best.”

“Awesome!” he cheers, clapping his forehooves. Adopting a completely serious demeanor, Cure looks between the two mares and asks, “Lots of mares seem to have a really hard time giving birth, right?” Both shrug and nod as he continues, “And that’s with all kinds of muscles set up just for pushing! What I don’t get is, how in the hay do those foals get in there in the first place then?!”

Both mares freeze, as does everypony within earshot. A few choked laughs and concealing coughs can be heard as whispers start resounding all around the three ponies. Near silence descends as everycreature strains to hear what their response will be. Undaunted, the colt carries on, “I mean, I asked my sire about it and he gave me this crazy story ‘bout ‘special hugs between ponies,’ and my dam just went on ‘bout ‘bloomin flowers needing watered,’” he explains with air quotes.

Shrugging helplessly he continues, “I get hugs all’a tha time and the lady at the flower shop just threw me out when I asked about waterin ‘em ta make foals! The rude old biddy!” Several nearby ponies start laughing quietly, doing their best to cover their faces. Cure looks around in confusion before casting his baffled gaze on the stunned pair.

Director Storm turns into a stuttering mess, mumbling “uhh” repeatedly, looking between the colt and Dr. Dawn in hopes that the mare will field the question. Dr. Dawn narrows her eyes in suspicion at the colt and begins to ask, “How could you possibly have made the Colt Tree if you don’t…” she pauses as realization dawns on her. “Wait, you’re just messing with us aren’t you?”

Cure snickers, his whole body shaking as the surrounding ponies all join in laughing. “Sorry, doc, couldn’t help myself.”

Director Storm just rolls her eyes and shakes her head in exasperation. “It must be an alicorn thing,” she sighs.

“It is odd, isn’t it?” Dr. Dawn asks in agreement.

Director Storm just nods in response. “How about the two of you grab a snack and Dr. Dawn can tell you how much progress they’ve made on your trees.”

“Oh yeah, the princess mentioned I needed to stop by and make some changes to a few of them. C’mon, doc. Let’s grab a doughnut. I’m curious how the viral trees are comin along too.”

Cure, unfortunately, was only able to spend a couple minutes talking with Dr. Dawn. As if summoned by the director herself, Murphy’s presence presented itself as a pegasus runner burst into the breakroom beelining directly for the young alicorn. Nurse Glade had sent for him with an emergency call regarding an appointment for later that had shown up early because “something didn’t feel right.”

Though Dr. Dawn was shortly heading back to CUMC to assist with patients there, she dutifully followed the galloping colt as he made his way to room four where Dr. Thunder and Nurse Sonic were reviewing a scanning device off to the patient’s left. Nurse Helena, the griffon member of the team, is doing her best to keep the mare calm, gently running her filed-down talons along the side of her neck while softly speaking with her.

The mare’s coat is a match for his real colors, though her mane was a flowing gold much like Wind Shear’s lovely color. Two more mares are to Cure’s left holding each other worriedly and the stallion Cure assumes is the sire is by her side whispering reassurances.

Though most of her face is covered, what little he can see of Dr. Thunder immediately tells the colt that whatever is wrong is pretty bad. Dr. Dawn taps the cleaning crystal and moves to the side to join Dr. Thunder while Cure activates his horn to scan the mare.

The results are almost exactly what he’d feared, though he does see a potential solution to the problem. It’s not one he’d been eager to suggest, but one of Ed’s closest friends had gone through this, minus the multiple pregnancy. It’s a painful experience and Cure isn’t sure if it’s right to let a family suffer needlessly because of his hang-ups.

He makes his way over to the three huddled professionals as he Sends a message to the princess.

<< Boss, I need an emergency ruling here. >>

<< I noticed you rushing down the hall. What’s wrong? >>

<< The mare I’m with? One of the twins very recently passed. The umbilical cord is pinched, almost knotted. They haven’t told her yet, but I think Dr. Thunder is going to in a second. >>

“Hold on, doc,” he quietly instructs under his breath. All three pause to look at the colt, with only Dr. Dawn able to sense something magical going from him to outside the room.

<< I’m sorry, Cure. I’m assuming you have not yet encountered death, given your amazing abilities. Are you alright? >>

<< I’m fine. That’s not the issue. They’re twins. The body is still here and is in good shape. The other filly is perfectly healthy. I can just… ya know… copy the healthy one to heal the other. >>

A moment passes as everypony stares hopefully at the colt.

<< Do it. Say nothing to the family. >>

Cure mulls it over for only a second. Everypony is clearly waiting for him to do something, but this is not a firefly or a few spiders or a tree. This is a sapient being that he is, essentially, making. Or remaking. With the unverified evidence of something akin to a soul, he isn’t sure what impact his actions will have.

Will whatever connection was there reestablish? Will a new one be created? Will the stallion’s “spark” still persist or will Cure be overwriting it with his own?

He’d previously discussed seeking a ruling from the princess on matters like this with his parents, but he’s not sure he agrees with saying nothing. On one hoof, the result of him using his talent should be a happy, if unaware family. It would also massively bolster the faith the medical professionals have in him, and likely, alicorns in general. It flies in the face of patient rights as they existed on Earth, though.

On the other hoof, saying something is going to lead to a whole lot of other questions. It’ll cause a lot of stress for the family, and could result in the foal being treated differently, assuming they say to go ahead at all.

Finally, speaking up would not only be disobeying an order, dubious legality and morality aside, but may possibly harm Celestia’s trust and confidence in the colt. She may later acknowledge his viewpoints, but there isn’t time to have some lengthy discussion. The dam is here. A foal is dead. Cure can revive it. The princess has issued a command.

<< Yes ma’am. >>

“Doc, prepare to deliver a pair of healthy fillies. Nurse? Towels.”

His horn ignites.

An aura blazes.

The dam gasps.

A heart beats.

The doctors startle.

Life begins.

The carriage no more than starts rolling before Cure climbs off his bench, hops up with Celestia, and pokes his snout at her side below her left wing. She lifts it slightly to accommodate the colt and he immediately wiggles his way underneath, resting his chin on her left foreleg thigh, only his head poking out from below her feathery appendage as he takes a deep breath and blows out a long sigh.

The unusual move gets a questioning look from the aged mare. “I’m glad I’ll be in Cloudsdale the next few days. Today… sucked,” he solemnly states. “Not ‘cause ‘a what I did, mind you. I’m pretty thankful for the ability to spare ponies that kinda pain.

“What sucked was how everypony started acting afterwards. I mean… I get it. We talked about the whole deification thing this morning. What I did… What we can do?” He sighs. “I’m familiar with a few polytheistic religions. Ra, Apollo, Helios, Amaterasu. There's probably a thousand other sun gods, but theology wasn’t his strong suit. There was even one named Sol, I think.”

He takes a deep breath and blows out another sigh, brushing against her with his cheek. “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. God saw that the light was good. He separated the light from the darkness and called the light day, and the darkness night. The first day ever. I’m not sure if that’s why the first day of the week is Sunday, but…” he trails off; the shrug of his wings felt below her own.

“I was certainly not responsible for creating the sun, Cure,” she teasingly corrects. “I know you like to poke fun at my age, but I assure you I’m not that old.”

“I think life was a few days later,” he continues, not responding to her comment. “Lands and seas are in there somewhere, then plants, animals, and eventually man. Then He took a day off, ‘cause even God is like ‘Work seven days in a row? Eff that, brah.’

“There were, of course, gods with a domain involving life. Gaia comes to mind, but I think she was associated with the world itself, not specifically ‘life’ as much. Of course there’s Asclepius, who’s staff became a well known symbol for healthcare,” he explains, projecting an image of the symbol. “I don’t know the extent of his domain, which was medicine, but I’m pretty sure I exceed it by a fair margin.”

“Fascinating,” she remarks upon seeing the image of his previous mark. “The story you quoted bears a resemblance to some of the creation myths I have heard. I suppose there are only so many ways to artistically describe how a planet teeming with life could come about.”

“We’re all just cosmic dust, Celestia. You, me, and everything that ever was or will be is the result of a one in a trillion longshot that eventually became reality, I reckon. Or more than one such longshot, maybe. Dunno. That aside, I never felt the divide like I did today.” With a cringe he admits, “I’ve never had somepony, multiple someponies, look at me like that. Even Dr. Dawn was left speechless. The difference between appreciation, even adoration and… worship. It made me feel like I did something wrong somehow.”

Genuinely curious, she asks, “Do you disagree with my decision?”

“No,” he immediately answers. “As long as the filly won’t have some kind of horrible lingering metaphysical condition then l believe we did the right thing. I wasn’t keen on not telling the family at first, but I suspect I know why you said not to.”

Celestia nods as she explains her reasoning. “There exists the possibility that the foal will be treated differently, even if it is not a conscious act. Perhaps she would be treated worse, or maybe even better than her twin, being ‘touched’ by the Alicorn of Life. Either possibility could have a negative impact on the lives of both girls and the family.”

“I agree with ya on that,” he says, “I am somewhat surprised you had me do it given you just told me yesterday to be careful about creating life.”

“You did not create life; you only restored what was lost. The filly is exactly as she should be. She is a perfectly normal pegasus filly, after all, is she not?”

“That’s a real narrow line you’re walking, boss. What if they weren’t twins? Or if they were fraternal? What if I scanned the pregnant mare six months ago? Should I turn back the clock and give the foal a re-do? Next time I may not be able to save that life. What then?”

“It’s simple, Cure. If you can save a life, do so. You will likely never regret that more than you would have the alternative. At the same time, do not blame yourself if you cannot. If you are unsure then do what you did today; seek the guidance of ponies you trust. Even when you are a thousand years old you will still need advice.”

She sighs and adds, “After all, one rarely, if ever, is faced with situations where they can understand the full ramifications of their choices. If only it were so simple...”

“Yeah. No unequivocally right answer, huh? I assume you have specialists when it comes to metaphysical conditions?”

“We do, and I agree with what I suspect you are about to suggest. I will have both of their conditions checked frequently to ensure nothing is amiss. Also, just to see what the results of your influence may be, even if there ultimately is nothing unusual.”

“Good. There’s an abundance of stories involving the artificial creation of life. There’s even more about bringing someone back. Lots of them go super bad all at once. I’d suggest even having a team of agents watching the family for a couple weeks to make sure nothing catastrophic pops up unexpectedly before you get an examination arranged. More than one team, even. With Sending crystals. You know how I like my redundancies.”

“I’ve noticed,” she comments with a tone of levity. “I’ll have a Thaumaturgical Health Specialist visit the family as soon as possible. You are aware that a basic scan is done on every foal before they leave the hospital, right?”

“I was not,” he confesses. “Last season I was helpin fix up any foals that had issues. There were a few doctors I was workin with but I figured they were double checking my work.”

“They were doing that as well. Eventually I will teach you how to perform the necessary scans to detect magical conditions, but with the subject being so complex and outside of your talent’s scope I think it’s best left to the professionals for now. You wouldn't have the capacity to do those as well as everything else you're doing now regardless.”

“Would those scans detect a changeling?”

Celestia considers the question for a moment before shrugging. “I would not know until I tried with one. Perhaps, but I suspect a changeling’s disguise would mask it to some degree. I would expect there to be at least some indicator that something is not quite right, though.”

“Hrm. The changeling thing worries me. It may be a good idea for me to come back once all the births are done and do a health check on all of your guards. Make it a family event, that way the real reason is obscured. Everypony has something wrong that could be fixed, after all. Vision, hearing, dental, arthritis, a crick in yer hip, an old scar, acne, a foalhood injury that didn’t heal perfectly… There is always something.

“And if anypony conspicuously avoids participating then maybe there’s a good reason. They could be a private individual or maybe they have something in their system they don’t want found. Or maybe they’re not a pony.”

She only thinks for a moment before nodding in agreement. “The guards themselves will not have the option of saying no. Health exams are mandatory; declining them is a freedom that is surrendered when enlisting. Unfortunately, I suspect such a large endeavor will have to wait until you are older; between officers and enlisted, including reservists, there are somewhere around two thousand guards in the city.”

The outrageously high number gets a shocked look from the colt as she continues, “Granted many are part time reservists, but perhaps you could do the much smaller number of commissioned officers and their families, then, when you are attending school, assist the enlisted creatures.”

“That’s probably best,” he agrees, nodding against her side. “Maybe just add in some sooner slots if any of the enlisted have a family member with a major problem. Or even a minor one that’s hard to fix normally.”

“That sounds great, Cure. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. Maybe we can do that after things settle down some. Perhaps the week before the Squad Competitions?”

“Sounds good. So a distraction sounds pretty good right about now. Tell me about these exercises we’ll be workin on.”

Author's Note

Don't worry, Cure will briefly talk about the exercise in the next chapter.

There will be one more slice of life chapter, then we'll move closer to the big day. The plan, as it is now, is for the coronation to get posted before my upcoming trips. I don't expect to post any chapters on 8/28, 9/4, or 9/11. I kinda wish I could on the last one in particular since that'll be the one year anniversary of the story (minus a day), but with travel and some other RL stuff I do not see it happening.

EDIT: I just realized that the coronation chapter probably won't hit until after I come back. I think I skipped today when I was counting out Mondays. Ugh... my bad! /edit

I suspect some of you will get weirded out over the bathing scene, but that actually is likely more realistic than him taking care of his own hygiene. I'm pretty sure in most European nations, at least those where the royalty bathed at all, they would have servants there to assist them. Most of my search results indicated such, at least.
That's probably where the idea of the scene from Coming to America came from, really. It certainly is odd from the perspective an average person nowadays, but it's not like anything inappropriate is happening.

Also, I am in no way implying that if women were physically stronger than men that prostitution would magically become victim free. That'll be a topic that is perhaps delved into when Cure is older. It's a complex problem, and not one I'm prepared to address at this stage of the story, if at all.

Enjoy and, as always, thanks for reading.