The pilot was sitting on the floor in the spacious bedroom allocated to him without a chain mail shirt. There was a wicker basket with fruits and vegetables on a round glass table. They did not have reliable information about what a person eats. Nearby, on a clean bed, which the pilot did not want to dirty, there were towels. They only half satisfied the request to wash and wash: they gave the same towels while they were preparing the bath. It did not work out to explain to them that a simple basin with warm water would do for him. Their loving care almost made me blush. Almost.

The mares themselves were clearly not ordinary ponies. Maybe priestesses from an aristocratic family, or maybe the princesses themselves. But the latter was so naive that laughter would not be inappropriate. The pilot had very little understanding of their traditions and the structure of the world. There was still a glimmer of hope that the stay here would not last too long. Last time, it took defeating the dragons and saving the ponies. So now you need to do something that pony is not able to do. Purpose? Previously, Kramarenko would have answered this unworthy to believe in this nonsense, but now…

There was a soft but insistent knock on the door. Kramarenko got up to open the door to a pony with a good upbringing and the concept of personal space. A blue mare stood on the threshold with a warm smile. Her mane and tail were tied in a ponytail and bun, respectively.

It must be calling to wash, the pilot thought and smiled approvingly at the unusual, but cute, wing calls.

***

The standing Son smiled warmly at the Moon. His emotions were sincere and bright, like a young colt next to his mother. He turned around and deftly grabbed the silk towels with his extraordinary paws, and after a couple of seconds he was ready to follow her. For some reason, at the sight of her Son, so unlike a pony, Luna wanted to hug him as if he were her own. She had never dreamed of becoming a mother before, and there was no opportunity. But now these feelings flared up in the mare like a hot flame, warming her heart.

Leading him down a long corridor decorated with paintings of victories and celebrations of Equestria before the dark times. Even without seeing his face, admiration and some surprise came from the tired Son at the sight of the art of the Canterlot artists. Turning into one of the nooks, they went down to the bathhouse, which was not inferior in size to the palace. Then the marble steps went under the warm water.

In the middle, like an island, there was a ledge on which Celestia was waiting. Next to her were all kinds of washing products. From the humidity, her fur became wet and glistened in the dim light of the magic lamps. The heavy mane no longer developed in the invisible wind and, tangled, hung haphazardly, giving her the appearance of an ordinary working pony. Now the moon will become the same.

My Son stopped behind me, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

Was he confused by so much water? the mare was surprised.

But after standing for a while, he began to take off his dirty clothes and put them neatly on the edge of the steps. Towels were also left there. Now he looked even more vulnerable without the many fabrics hiding his naked, almost hairless body. But the Son still left something: loincloth short trousers made of light cotton covered his intimate area. For the inhabitants of Equus, who did not even possess magic in the usual sense, they could create a simple illusion. From such thoughts, Luna blushed and mentally pitied him, who did not have such a simple gift.

Without a single splash, he entered the warm water up to his chest and dived. Not knowing about his ability to swim, the ponies did not even have time to be scared, as he was already on the surface. Noisily inhaling the air filled with the smells of scented candles.
Celestia stamped her front foot, inviting him to climb up to her. Pulling himself up on his front paws, the Son sat down on the edge of the "island". The skin, which had previously had the color of ivory, turned red.

It was a novelty for the former princess, but taking in her hooves, she touched his back with soft pads, feeling the strings of muscles stretched under the thin skin. For some reason, the bipedal creature shuddered and abruptly turned its head at this usual, pony-like gesture.

Celestia lowered her hoof, deciding about the wrongness of her actions towards her Son. He blinked in surprise and stopped her by placing his five-fingered paw on top of her hoof. Thus, he apologized for this, in his opinion, offense. His manners and behavior speak of him as a gentleman. At first, Tia saw him as a militant messenger from heaven. His physique was already suitable for battles, although he could not survive the slash. His mind was not inferior to a mature stallion, and maybe even superior.

Taking a shampoo in telekinesis, the mare gently began to rub the thick liquid into the short mane. Celestia and Luna didn't say a single word in front of their Son, communicating with him with simple body gestures or using visual magic. The sisters' curiosity was at a high level comparable to Twilight. But unlike the latter, they did not even think of getting into his head for secret knowledge. The young princess could not restrain herself and commit something beyond the bounds of decency.

Knowing our Tway, I'm willing to bet that she could have already met our Son and taught right in front of his eyes, Celestia telepathically shared her guesses with her sister.

For some reason it seems so to me too… Tia, can I ask you something? Without betraying her nervousness, Luna floated up to the side of their guest and looked questioningly at Celestia.

Of course, the white sister replied without distracting herself from her work with hooves.

I, I want to adopt him! For real! the mare blurted out.

From surprise, the former Equestria princess froze in amazement, but after a while she took up her task again, pouring crystal clear water from a jug on her soapy head. After thinking a little, carefully comprehending her next words, she gave an answer:

Luna, Lulu. You do realize that we can't notice his parents, right? We are not gods or even celestial beings, we are just slightly powerful inhabitants of Equus.

I understand, the younger one lowered her ears sadly.

He's not a pony, he's completely different. What happens if we leave him? the elder asked her reasonable question, starting to knead and rub the skin of her Son sitting in front of her, generously watering him with liquid soap before that.

No, Luna answered honestly.

I don't know either, but obviously nothing good. He is weak, he has enemies here in the form of the Order of the Red Dragon, even if he forgave them for the attack, dangers can lie in wait for him everywhere. I would also like to call him my little, or not so little, foal. a half-smile lit up Celestia's muzzle with strands of colored mane stuck to it.

Luna just nodded in disappointment and lay down on the ledge. She mentally struggled with her sister's decision, but her arguments were correct, and until Luna finds arguments, Tia will not back down from her own.

***

Under the soft hooves and gentle movements, Kramarenko fell into a light doze. Fatigue, tension and lack of normal sleep affected him. He woke up only when the white pony was poking her nose, quietly waking him up already lying down. The pleasant massage from the mare was wonderful. It's a shame to admit, but the pilot would not mind repeating this experience.

While the pilot was drying himself, it began to dawn on him that he had been washed, indeed, everywhere while he was sleeping.

What a shame. Yes, and these mares, apparently, are not shy, since they climbed into my underpants.

Lightweight silk towels absorb moisture perfectly, so the pilot finished quickly. But the mares were not so easy with their fur. No matter how they were wiped off, a little bit, but they still remained wet.

Having escorted Kramarenko to his chambers, the mares went about their business, finally giving rest. Left alone, he took off his towels and buried himself in a soft feather bed.

The first time is an accident, the second is a coincidence, and the third is a pattern, the pilot grinned, hiding the gun under his pillow.

There is something wrong with this world — everyone is interfering, but they want to kill a person, as if he is the main evil on this earth. Sleep found him quickly. And I dreamed of my own home, and my mother and father under an old lime tree.

Author's Note

I wanted to ask you, readers, here: is the text read normally from machine translation and is everything OK?