Practice Makes Perfect

Chapters

The First of the Summer Cider
Up the Apples and Pears
A Pelting from the Peanut Gallery

The First of the Summer Cider

I stared at the stationary. It was nice of Rose to try to help, but at the same time what she was suggesting went against the spirit of the rules, which were clearly in place for a reason. I didn't want to get her into trouble.

Thankfully, I was spared figuring out how to politely turn her down by the tall, graceful mare who swept into the room. The Guardsmare stood to attention.

"Oh Twilight..." Princess Celestia sat down and gathered me into a hug in a way she hadn't in over a decade. "What happened?"

I buried my face against the base of her warm neck and cried into her peytral. It took a while for the tears to die down enough for me to begin to explain.

"I should have listened to Rarity, three days ago..."

Narda 29th Harvesting, 1008ALB
"Do try to hold still, darling." Rarity chided. "I'm almost finished."

I did my best, but my wings felt like they wanted to fly off on their own. In fact I almost wished they would, at least for a couple of days. They were emblematic of the reason why poor Rarity had to do almost twice the work whenever she made anything for me.

"Good grief, it's like you have mustard up your snout." She commented after a few more tugs and pins. "I've not seen you so worked up since Manehattan."

I bit back a pedantic comment that she didn't see me. She only heard about it later, what with being unconscious at the time. "It's my first solo engagement, of course I'm nervous! What if I mess up my lines, or somepony from the press- Hee!" I nickered as pain shot through my wing near its root.

"Sorry, but you really must stop moving." Rarity insisted, field dancing as she readjusted the hem and switched to a fresh needle. "I'm going to have to come on the train with you at this rate."

I glanced at the clock. Half past eight, just under an hour left. Barely time to get back home to check Spike had everything packed right, double check the list and then...

"There, finished." Rarity said, straightening and stepping back.

I blinked, that was fast. "Finished?"

She nodded, brushing a couple of creases out of her own high necked, scar concealing dress. "Yes, you did well. How does it feel?"

Shaking off the feeling I'd been played with the flick of an ear, I took a few steps in a small circle and ruffled my wings. "It's... Great. Thanks."

"Splendid, let's get it wrapped up then." Rarity said.

I nodded and took off the dress. It reminded me of the one I wore at my investiture, but without the elaborate train or ribbons and with more folds, probably to make taking in and letting out easier when my measurements inevitably changed again. Developing flight muscles, height enough to look Applejack in the eye, a greater rate of horn growth and more all added up. From a biological perspective, it was fascinating to observe and record, but little more than a headache in daily life.

"Are you sure you don't want somepony along, Twilight?" Rarity asked as she carefully folded the dress on some brown paper. "I would be perfectly happy to come, if you like."

I shook my head. "Thanks, but I need to do this alone. That's the whole reason why Princess Celestia asked me to preside over the harvest festival. Besides, you must have a lot on your plate right now."

"So will you day after tomorrow, if what I've heard about Land's Giving in Canterlot is to be believed." Rarity said. Or joked. Sometimes I find it hard to be sure.

"It's not that much different to Ponyville." I said.

"Well, anyway. It really wouldn't be a bother." Rarity replied. "I have an in with the royal seamstress."

"Sometimes I wonder why you aren't the one with wings." I joked awkwardly.

Rarity passed me the parcel with a smile. Success! "You're leaving Spike in Ponyville, I presume?"

"Yes, it's another good opportunity to try getting him used to independence. Hopefully he'll cope better now he's had a few moons." I said, the brief thrill dying as I tried not to remember the plumbing bill to clear out all the papier mâché from the last attempt. Or the hassle the builders gave me, for that matter. "Actually, would you mind popping in on him this evening Rarity? Just to make sure he's all right?"

"Of course, Twilight! I'm sure he'll be fine though. And so will you." Rarity said, patting my withers.

"Thanks. There's a-" I began, then cut myself off. I'd written up a 'to do' list for Spike, but just like for me, the point of the exercise was to do things properly without somepony looming over his shoulder. Or any animals to look after, since that seemed to be what he most struggled with previously. "Never mind. Thanks again." I added, raising the parcel in my field for emphasis.

"Any time, darling!" Rarity said with a wave as I turned to leave the boutique.

In the end, Spike practically had to drag me from the library to the front door to stop me procrastinating over bringing a fifth book, just in case I finished the other four while I was on the train. Three would have been plenty, really. We barely made it to the station in time to race across the bridge and flag down the conductor even as he was raising his whistle.

Spike stayed on the platform to wave me off until the first bend pulled him out of sight for the next three nights. Then it was just me, a journal which arrived that morning on the applications of quantum physics in teleportation matrices and Owlowlicious in his travel cage.

"Therefore, it appears that the pico scale pseudo-singularity can be best tuned by using the product of Flugal- No. Flugilgaard's equation for theta of element thorn's Keystone position, with an average thaumic cost reduction of 9.8% observed when..." I trailed off about half way through the article, trying to remember what the pre-reduction figure was.

Owlowlicious hooted.

I sighed, ears sagging. "It's not working, is it? I can barely focus."

He hooted again. Fluttershy could have told the difference, but it sounded pretty much the same as the last to me.

I stared indecisively down at my saddlebags in the space beneath the opposite bench for a moment before lighting my horn and bringing them over. "Maybe I should practice the speech again?"

Large avian eyes followed passively as I rummaged through the bag for the script.

"Well that was a great use of time Twilight," I grumbled, "repacking everything before heading out. It's all been jostled anyway..."

I spent most of the afternoon visiting Mum and Dad before heading to my old tower in the warm evening. Already hawkers were hastily assembling stands and pavilions in the markets and along the wider roads of the city, racing the failing light.

My tower wasn't spectacular for Canterlot, four floors topped by a steep yellow roof which gave the bedroom plenty of light and air at any time of day, thanks to the small windows set all around it. I lived there for the last few years before Princess Celestia sent me to Ponyville as part of the same process I was now putting Spike through, though she hadn't told me at the time that it was just a stepping stone. Technically it was crown property, just down a side street from the gates of the citadel and had been Sunset's before me, and before her... Celestia tutored a lot of students over the years. In fact I was a little surprised she hadn't started looking for a new one by now.

While it was still mine, I had decided a few days earlier that for the purposes of the exercise, the tower was the most honest place for me to stay for the festival. I wasn't too proud to ask for some food from my parents' pantry though, rather than having to worry about a grocery shop as well as all the rehearsals and final meetings tomorrow.

Inside, I was glad to see that somepony had been sent to dust before I arrived. It had been quite a while since the papier mâché incident. It turns out that national housing standards were apparently not a priority of the forces of harmony and as such, the forces of the mayor had launched a brief occupation to install maintenance access and bring the castle into compliance.

However clean it was though, the living room looked wrong every shelf empty. The books I hadn't brought over during my initial move had all gone to Ponyville years ago, after Tirek 'solved' my private storage problems by removing Golden Oaks as a whole from existence. Or this existence, at least. From analysis of the residual magic at the site, there was some evidence to suggest that at least part of the tree is currently lost in some sort of extraplanar space.

Having already eaten, I unpacked in the bedroom and settled in for the nervous night, letting Owlowlicious out to hunt.

Amarda 30th Harvesting, 1008ALB
"...And so I'd like to wish you all a wonderful afternoon, and say a big thank you for the generous contributions so many of you have made!"

A smattering of hooves stomped on the floor below for the sixth time today.

"Splendid! Splendid! Bravo!" A deep-throated Unicorn stallion cheered, walking in from offstage. "Now come on weather, wake up!"

A group of Pegasi up near the rafters jerked almost in unison and hastily shifted the huge sheet they held between them so the light from a spotlight spilt away from me and down across the floor, where a miniature mockup of Highmarket had been drawn in masking tape.

"And that's a wrap!" The Unicorn declared. "You go down, catch some hooves in the crowd and then it's up to the palace toot sweet for the feast."

I nodded wearily. We had only been going for a few hours, but Strict Cadence (not to be confused with my sister-in-law) put out the sort of determined energy which made you feel drained just by proximity, let alone trying to keep up. The stage lights didn't help.

Strict turned to me. "I think we can take your part as read, ma'am. Great job with the lines." He chuckled to himself. "But then I suppose I should have expected the Princess of Friendship to be good with a crowd! Goes with the job and all, what!"

"I did my homework." I understated, doing my best to maintain eye contact, rather than staring at a vague spot to his left. "Are you sure you don't need me? Right now, that is."

He nodded. "You've been perfect the last three go-rounds. Just do the same thing tomorrow and you'll be fine. Go and have lunch, stay fresh, and I'll see you at the palace tomorrow for the real thing."

"See you tomorrow then." I said gratefully before levitating my script over and skirting the edge of the hall for the exit, taking care not to trip in the tangle of wires leading out a window to where a portable generator growled outside.

"Back to the top, everypony! Chop chop! Weath-!" Strict's voice was cut off as the heavy old door closed.

I took a deep breath and stood in the drizzle for a moment, pushing my stress away. The air, cleared of particulates by the rain, was as fresh as it gets in summer.

Under a weak shield spell and without really thinking about it, I wandered up toward the palace, taking a shortcut through Puddinghead Park. A gardener was treading the ground there, leaving the grass revitalised in her spiralling wake in toward the Founding Monument.

The mare stopped and touched her flat cap deferentially as I passed and I paid her a polite 'good afternoon' in return, but my main attention was toward the mythical founders of the country, proudly staring down the mountainside.

Well, by mythical I mean they probably did exist, or at least some Ponies who came together to do something roughly similar to what the old versions of the story describe... But languages evolve, names are distorted and details drop out of oral history. What little we have from before the dark age is nearly all myth.

I stopped at the base of the plinth and stared up at the larger-than-life trio frozen in polished bronze. To my trained senses, the traces of powerful preservative wards to delay oxidation were obvious, as was the need for renewal by whoever laid them centuries ago.

The personal memories were even more palpable than that, however. I used to come to this park quite often growing up, whenever Shining managed conscript me into one of his games. Usually the naval ones in this particular park, thanks to the friendly old parkie back then and the large pond which forms a shoe shape around the back edge. Soon after Celestia took me on as her student, this was where he first met Cadance. She had been teaching me history while the Princess herself was in Sicameon on a state visit and he had happened by after coming home from training.

I never expected my life to take the path it did. I was six when I drew up the plan of my academic career, looking forward to eagerly tracing my way up the educational ramp and then diving off the top into the exciting sea of research and lecturing for the next fifty years or so. My wildest ambitions went as far as having a constant named after me, or maybe even an important equation. Becoming Princess Celestia's personal student was a dream come true and later on Ponyville was at first just a distraction from that. I grew to appreciate what I had there with an expectation that I was still going to move on eventually, only with meetups and letters added to The Plan.

Then I exploded.

Suddenly, I was faced with an indefinite void looming before me and The Plan fell apart. I had already begun my doctoral studies (part time, thanks to having Golden Oaks to look after and everything which came with being the Element of Magic) and I forced that through to a finished thesis and second graduation only a fortnight before Celestia asked me to oversee this event, but I could never be a professor now, not a real one. Professor Twilight Sparkle died in the birth-scream of Princess Twilight Sparkle.

The mares behind those the statues, whoever they really were, would understand the life I was training for. They had led through one of the worst moments of history, when it must have seemed like the world was going to end. Six thousand years later in the age of vacuum tubes, printed ink and standardised spell matrices, it turns out history was only just getting started. Maybe thanks to them, maybe not.

The dead couldn't answer any more than they could replenish the artisanal, impossible-to-replicate wards on the statue, but if they could do all they supposedly did without written language, then surely I could make a five minute speech, lead a toast and answer a few questions for The Canterlot Herald if they wanted.

That confident thought buoyed me, and I passed the plinth with a mind toward finding somewhere to buy a late lunch. But as I crossed the bridge out of the park, I stopped and turned around, ears flicking.

I could have sworn I heard a colt laughing.

Curda Land's Giving, 1008ALB
I peered with baggy eyes through a crack in the curtains down onto the huge market square, heart beating in my throat. The place had been flooded by a chromatic sea, amid which stands and tables laden with produce stood like islands, hardly any less colourful. Through the open door to my left spilt both the scents of roasting vegetables and the roar of tens of thousands of voices, all but drowning out the band playing on the steps below.

"Your Highness, it's almost time."

I jolted and stumbled back, wings wavering to steady myself.

"Sorry!" The maid who had startled me squeaked, ducking out the way of a flailing limb.

I stepped out of her personal space and shook my head, stammering my own apology.

We crossed the room to where a tall mirror had been set up. While I was distracted at the window, a younger maid had arrived with a trolley full of the sorts of things Rarity could name in a heartbeat and was currently erring over something which to me looked vaguely related to wing care. Stopping, I took a breath and pushed away the worry, but for once the technique felt about as helpful as pushing water.

Butter had been one of Princess Celestia's hoofmaidens since before she took me on as her student, and probably before I was even born if I had to guess by her age, though I didn't know her very well beyond diligently learnt recognition. Since then she had moved up to become her personal chambermaid. In a way, I suppose she might have been too used to her employer. A proper princess would never have reacted the way I did.

Either way, the greying mare had quickly recovered from her shock and introduced the younger maid as Straight Comb, a trainee. Barely focussed on the conversation, I nodded along as Butter asked if it was all right if she watched the work.

From then on it was almost like being a patient in an operating theatre as Butter swung into action, reeling off what she was doing and working around me at a dizzying pace, occasionally having Straight copycat some minor tweak.

Feathers were straightened and ironed, hair was brushed for a third time, near-invisible creases were worked out of fabric, makeup buried the evidence of two sleepless nights and jewellery was fitted on top of it all. The only times Butter addressed me were to ask me to open a wing or lift a hoof, though at the rate she was going, I couldn't have got a word in edgeways even if I wasn't busy trying not to scream.

Last to go on was my circlet, though I only felt it press against my mane. My eyes were squeezed shut and my heavy breathing had since drowned out the tutorialisation.

"Your public awaits, darling." Rarity said at last.

I opened my eyes, surprised. For an instant I thought I was in the palace, but when I blinked, Butter replaced Rarity. The back of my mind kept shouting to push the stress away, but the dress I had admired two days earlier now felt restrictive, crushing my flanks as I tried to control my breathing and threatening rumpling if I raised my foreleg too high. I couldn't go out looking dishevelled like that.

"Then I'm ready." I forced out, drawing myself up.

Butter smiled. "You'll blow them away, ma'am."

The encouragement fell flat in my heart thanks to what faced me in the mirror. I looked nothing so much like a filly trying ever-so-seriously to imitate her mother.

Quickly turning away before the last shreds of courage could wither, I muttered my thanks and began the short walk toward the open doors. Though the golden shoes they had put on me were not tall at all, they might as well have been stilts for how wobbly my legs felt.

I just had to live up to Princess Celestia for five minutes. Five minutes. Even compartmentalising the task, it was like the last moments before my thesis presentation all over again, the many ways I could mess up parading through my head.

The last refrain of the previous music faded out, there was a brief pause and the noise dropped a little as a city crier down below announced me. Then the band struck up the half of the national anthem to which I was entitled and I stepped out onto the balcony.

The crowd exploded into cheers at my nervous little wave and rictus smile.

Author's Note

If you are wondering why Rarity has a scar, take a look at my other story Reform, starring Princess Luna.
An explanation of the Equestrian calendar is planned for a future appendix entry. For now suffice to say that the festival of Land's Giving is not considered part of any month, but still has a weekday assigned to it.

Up the Apples and Pears

Six stammers, four times I caught my eyes wandering away from the crowd, I almost tripped on the way back inside and oh Celestia, I completely forgot the cheese!

Reaching the bottom of the main stairwell of the city hall, I took a moment to smooth down my fringe, which had been steadily fraying ever since Butter's last minute attentions. The pair of Crystal Guards who had fallen in behind me at the top stopped unobtrusively.

Portraits of mayors stretching back centuries stared down disapprovingly, or so it seemed, taking note of how GDP and stock markets declined with every reputation-tarnishing fumble I made. I'd have to find a cheesemaker if I could, to make sure they didn't think they were unappreciated and get upset at their cheesemaker meetings and go on strike... Was there a guild of cheesemakers? A union? I didn't have time to look it up, but maybe I could fix that later.

The double doors loomed ahead and I checked myself over one last time before stepping forward, dragging the weight of a country behind me. One of the Crystal Guards, part of a unit Shining had loaned us to cover the festival's security arrangements thanks to Princess Luna's ongoing work refurbishing the Royal Guard, moved ahead to open them.

The noise from the sun-drenched market hit me like a wall. It wasn't any different to what I'd heard at the window and not nearly as loud as on the balcony, but even a moment away was enough to be shocked again.

As I walked down the steps, I wondered how anypony could cheer me after that mess. Logically it meant they weren't angry at least, but then again most Ponies aren't very logical creatures.

"Boo!"

Instinctively, I reared back with a whinny from the six or seven year old colt who'd just jumped out from behind a bin to my left. Unfortunately with rear hooves on two different steps, I lost my balance despite flailing wings. The next few seconds were a blur, but I can infer that one of the guards dove forward to catch me as I fell. He didn't quite hit the mark though and we ended up thumping, rolling and clattering down the last few steps together, shattering a large flower pot at the bottom.

All the same, he might have saved my life. Hitting my head on the edge of a step or that pot would have been no joke.

I blinked spots out of my eyes, revealing the hooves of the second Guardspony. He had moved up to interpose himself like a brick wall against the crowd, who had surged forward, necks craning around his bulk. Others took to the air, further congesting the scene even as a few coppers tried to reach us.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Came a voice from below.

I voiced the automatic response to that question before I'd really had time to consider. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Then if you wouldn't mind, ma'am?" He asked, gesturing vaguely with a hoof. He sounded somehow familiar, but the enchantments on his armour made him look like any other Crystal Guard.

"Oh, right." I said awkwardly, clambering off him, gingerly avoiding treading on pottery shards. "Um, thanks."

"All in a day's work." He replied with a grin, getting up and checking himself over. His armour had taken the brunt of the fall and was covered in dents and scrapes.

"Focus, Sentry." The other Guardspony cut in, before shoving a camera-wielding reporter back. "Give the Princess some room!"

"Yes, sarge." Sentry said, nipping up the steps to collect his spear.

The worried crowd, seeing I was on my hooves, altered in some subtle way I couldn't quite latch on to. I did my best to ignore the press (in more than one sense) as I looked around. The foal who caused it all had been hauled away by the ear by his father, while a presumable grandmother berated him. His mother seemed to be shouting apologies to the world in general.

I moved to follow them and set things straight, but another yelling reporter got in the way and in the seconds it took for the Guardsponies to shift her, the family were lost in the crowd.

Thwarted, I started answering worried inquiries with what I desperately tried to not let be nervous jabbers. Not that it mattered too much in hindsight, given that I could barely make myself heard without shouting.

"Do you need to go, ma'am?" The sergeant asked quietly in my ear, once Sentry and the police had taken most of the pressure off him.

It was very tempting, but I really was fine physically and giving up would have let everypony else down.

I drew myself up in my best impersonation of my tutor and shook my head. "I'm fine." Brushing down my battered mane, I turned back to the crowd. "I'm fine, everypony!"

I struggled to judge their reactions, but gradually, I was able to make my way forward to the produce-laden table I had been headed for before the accident. Ironically, now that near-disaster had struck, I felt far more confident than I had a moment before, like a pressure valve had been released.

Princess Celestia always focussed on foals and the elderly in these sorts of appearances, and I followed the pattern. The old mares and stallions were polite and deferential as you'd expect, even if most of the time it felt a bit less warm than with the 'real' Princess, as it were. Then again, that might have just been leftover adrenaline talking.

The foals were definitely excited to see me though, and it struck me in an odd sort of way that a lot of them either didn't remember a time when there was just the Princess, or thought it was it was normal to get a new one every couple of years, like how a leap in telescope optics had led to new moons being discovered around Eyr and Maar (the planets, that is) while I was growing up.

I had a vague idea of where to go from the event plan, but there was no specific order. My original reason for looking out over the market before the speech had been to plan out an efficient route, which I now stuck to, all the while keeping the Princess in mind. Any hope for an A grade, so to speak, was well and truly dead, but I hoped I could still pass if I just followed her lead.

The first stops took me around the regular attendees closest to the city hall, many of whom had been waiting several hours. Unfortunately, as much as it felt like my responsibility to greet as many as possible, and even avoiding staying in one place where the crowds would eventually close in and overrun me, fumbling through a couple of dozen brief conversations and tastings started to make my head spin from the constant switching of social course. Thus, I began following the flags and banners toward where the various organisations involved in the event had set themselves up, stopping here and there along the way to avoid seeming unfriendly.

A few disappointed faces rattled me, especially whenever I moved on too fast, but I kept to my internal schedule. That at least placated my nerves enough that I wasn't actively panicking at every hairpin along the route.

At those important stops, I brushed shoulders with famous musicians I had never heard of, put in a good word for Rarity with a fabric magnate and even managed to drag myself away from a conversation with Professor Right Angle, of all the amazing mares to meet in the street, about the paper I had read on the train before my plans were interrupted again.

An auburn coated Unicorn shoved her way into my path, almost knocking over a passing septuagenarian in the process. Just behind her puffed a stallion with an old hooded camera.

"Hello there ma'am! I'm Idle Gossip, from Under Wraps magazine!" The mare declared through a grin of bleached teeth. "How's Rarity doing?"

"Um, busy." I replied, taken a bit off-guard and glancing at the elderly mare who was staring daggers at the newcomer. "Do you know her?"

"We've met." Idle said, taking a note. "Do you mind a few teensy weensy questions from the press?"

I considered timings, then shook my head. "I can spare a moment."

Idle levitated a notebook and pencil out of her heavy trench coat. "What do you have to say about how Princess Luna is pushing in on Princess Celestia's secret affair?"

The half-dozen or so state secrets I'd been briefed on recently clamoured for attention, but none of them seemed to fit the bill. That made me wonder if I was looking at the bizarre question from the wrong perspective. "Pardon?"

The mare waved airily at nothing in particular. "Oh you know. We all love Princess Cadance, but she didn't just fall out of the sky."

What a weird leap of logic. "She's from a branch of the old Mi Amore dynasty who escaped Sombra's coup. Princess Celestia fostered her, which is why she calls her auntie."

She leaned forward like a character in a bad spy story and pointed her pencil at me. "You don't call her that though."

"Of course not, I was- Ghee!" I flinched when a flash exploded in my eyes.

While I blinked spots away, the camerapony stowed away the plate.

The 'journalist' ploughed on. "What do you think got Princess Luna so riled up that she would sack all her sister's strong, handsome stallions? Do you think it was because she wouldn't let her dear Blueblood go off to kick the bugs out of Olenia?"

Taking a step away from her over-minty breath, I put my hoof down in what I hoped was the right way. "That's another leading question. I'm sorry, but if you aren't going to interview in good faith, then I'll be off. Good day to you."

As I brushed past, I wished I'd just fobbed her off to begin with after what she did to that old mare. Of course in theory I knew that gossip rags existed, but surely nopony actually thought about Princess Celestia like that? It made me feel sick, sick and angry. Since quite a young age I had never quite been able to believe in the Whispering Tree, however much I wanted to. Rational motes of primordial dust just seemed more likely than creator gods and the rising Mesohippus was a brighter beacon of hope to me than falling Ancestors, but I knew for just as long that Princess Celestia was a devout Epalantilda who took the teachings to heart.

She was the best of all Ponies, an example to us all.

With my last stop before the palace in sight, I moved as fast as the crowd would let me away from that depraved mare.

Cider swished around my tongue a few minutes later, the aromatic bloom of the alcohol making the sip feel much larger in my mouth despite being drier and, thank goodness, milder than anything the Apple family made. There was a hint a bit like smoked cheese to it was well, which did wonders for clearing that nasty mint out of my nose.

"What do you think, ma'am?" Asked the genteel old Unicorn stallion who had been introduced to me as Pear Pounder.

I swallowed and looked down at the small glass in my field. Almost instinctively I wanted to swirl what was left in it. "I'm not much of a cider taster, but it's nice. I didn't know you could smoke cider."

A big purple hoof rapped against the top of the barrel. A kilderkin, if I remembered the measurements. "It's all about the wood. This here be five years aged, so it's 'ad plenty of time fer the smoked oak to seep in."

"Oh, so it's doped through chemical leeching, that makes sense." I said, flicking an ear. "I suppose you can control how smoky it tastes by how long you keep it then, and the temperature."

Bushy eyebrows worked for a moment before he nodded. "Oh, arrm. I suppose so. Not puttin' no drugs in with me apples, mind!" He added, a bit louder.

I resisted the urge to point out that technically speaking, ethanol is a drug. It helped that I was able to reason that the ethanol comes at least in part from the apples during the fermentation process, so he wasn't entirely off.

"Where was I..." Pear muttered. "Oh, yeah. You probably noticed it's not so bubbly as the stuff you'd get from the corner shop, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, that's from the age as well you see. Older the cider is, the flatter and darker. Flavour's more complicated too." He explained.

"Like the woodsmoke." I observed.

He smiled, a bit like Applejack did after an evening of applebucking. I wondered if he might be a distant relative. "That and all. You know you've got a proper old cider if there's a hint of caramel."

"That'd be a sort of slow, low temperature pyrolysis, plus some decay of long-chain molecules." I said, returning the smile.

"Arrm, yes. Suppose so." Pear said after a moment.

I realised I'd lost him, which meant it was time to pull out before things got awkward. "Well, thank you very much, that was very interesting." I said, turning toward the middle of the busy pavilion. "I shouldn't keep you though, I'm sure everypony else wants a turn!"

In the way they do, our smiles became a bit forced when a couple of cameras flashed. Taking care not to step in a sweet-smelling puddle which had somehow already managed to get on the floor, I worked my way out from behind the folding table.

"You looked like a natural." Said the surprisingly young president of the Canterlot Brewers' Association, waiting nearby.

"Thanks." I said. "The plan is just for me to go around now until it's time to head to the palace, right?"

"Yes ma'am." He confirmed, gesturing in the clockwise direction from the entryway. He picked up a few slices of white bread in his field. "You'll want these, by the way. Best stuff for resetting your palette."

"Thanks." I said, taking the bread and nibbling on some before a question came to mind. "You wouldn't happen to know if there's anything I should be careful with?"

"I'd go easy on the 'Upton Wizard Buster', that stuff's one-twenty proof. Only whisky we've got here today." The president said, gesturing toward the opposite side of the pavilion. "Otherwise though, you're clear. Nothing like that 'Knockout Punch' from down your way, at least."

I winced at the memory of the one time Rainbow managed to persuade me to try some of Granny Smith's finest, yet least well-named. Songs prominently featuring hedgehogs had been involved.

He laughed. "Yeah, I know the feeling. Brick wrapped in an apple skin, straight to the horn."

Before time could start to run away, I began the long loop from stand to stand, followed by the president. Cider didn't play as dominant a role in the festival here as it did in Ponyville, where I'm sure Rainbow was already pestering Applejack for seconds (or thirds), but this was still easily the biggest pavilion. Being acutely aware of my own, scrupulously measured alcohol tolerance, I therefore stuck to sips so I could share the royal patronage around as much as possible. Even so, I think I broke my one glass policy, but at this point I had so many worries bouncing about in my head that it didn't really register.

The Sun was sinking westward by the time I left the pavilion. The cider had done my nerves some good despite the niggling fear of another lurking disaster, but even so I wished I could simply teleport myself and the two Guardsponies directly up to the citadel gates. Sadly, magic and alcohol don't mix very well for metabolic reasons and so I had to face the crowds again.

"Do you have a moment, your Highness?" Somepony asked, just as I was starting to believe I might make a clean getaway.

I stopped staring at the ground in front of me, only to see a camera. My heart sank. "No, sorry."

The buck-toothed Unicorn looked put out and fell into step alongside me, dragging the camera's undeployed tripod behind in her field. "Is something the matter, bach? Off the record, you know."

I looked away and picked up my pace a bit. "Please just leave me alone."

She stopped without a word, though I could feel her eyes - or possibly those teeth of hers - boring into the back of my head until I reached one of the roads leading out of Highmarket.

There was a coach waiting at the junction and with a bit of help from the hoofmare, I was able to get aboard without any dress-related mishaps. Once the door closed, I did my best to sink into the cushioned bench, beneath the level of the windows while the haulers navigated their way through the streets.

I should hardly have bothered. The streets were almost deserted for most of the way and soon the carriage wheels crunched to a stop on the gravel path leading from the gates to the palace doors.

Strict Cadence was waiting among a few other parked carriages, tail lashing. "Bang on time, thank the Ancestors!"

"Is something wrong?" I asked as the hoofmare helped me down.

Strict bit his lip, looking up at the sky. "Could go either way, ma'am. There's chaos in the kitchens and I just got off the blower with the fire brigade."

Above, the carefully arranged clouds were drifting together. I felt my mane prickle. "What happened?"

"Take a look." He said, leading me around the corner of the palace and waving north-east toward the airship docks.

I couldn't see the docks themselves thanks to the citadel wall, but smoke shot eastward toward the Canterhorn like a falling pillar, the merlons and crenels creating a sawblade contrast of black and white beneath the gathering clouds. Goodness knows how many Pegasi must have been maintaining the artificial gale to carry it like that.

Of all days... I felt my fringe curling again. "Do they have the fire under control?"

Strict shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest, no pun intended. All Captain Spout told me was that something's gone up at the docks and she needs our weather team to help stop it spreading to the moorings. She's got the authority of course, but it'll be a right shame if we get rained out at the end 'cause some dockworker dropped a cigarette. It's the end which gets remembered best, you know."

I grimaced, though that at least explained the quiet streets. Rumour must have been spreading.

At that moment, Luna tore around the corner, just barely managing to avoid ploughing into us. Strict dipped his head.

She clattered to a halt and raised her visor. "There you are, Twilight Sparkle! I am heading to the docks at once!"

I had to take a step or two back from her, not because of her volume for once but rather the eye-wateringly powerful enchantments on her armour. "Please don't tell me we've been invaded."

Luna shook her head. "I would hardly face a foe without a brand. Nay, the panoply is merely a precaution against falling debris."

"I think that's the first good news I've heard all day." I said. "I'll get out of this dress and follow after."

She raised a forestalling hoof. "You will do nothing of the sort! Get you to the feast at once and bolster spirits, my skills shall suffice for this challenge." Then before either of us could respond, she slapped her visor shut and flew away, quickly dipping out of sight behind the parapet.

We both watched her go.

"Suppose we've got our marching orders." Strict said after a few seconds.

I nodded and turned toward the palace. Luna had a point, she was far more experienced with Pegasus magic than I was and probably ever will be.

A buzz of chatter thrummed through the magically lit throne room as soon as the doors closed behind me. Long tables had been set together down the middle of the hall, but unlike the biweekly open dinners, Everypony that evening was a select guest. Some I recognised, but most were complete strangers or had simply faded into the background of the court while I was growing up.

I could almost hear Applejack in my head as I walked toward the thrones: 'Rich as a triple chocolate pudding, and as much sense between them.'

Certainly my dress felt almost cheap by comparison to the ludicrous wealth on show from the more foppish displays, but it wasn't really a fair assessment. There were plenty of idiots, but I recognised professors from the university and there was plenty of business talk as I passed. Even some of the nobles engaged in less academic conversation, as much as I hate to admit it about a twit like Blueblood, I knew weren't idiots either. Blueblood was one of Shining's lecturers at RMA Canterbury and an insufferably good infantry theorist even back then, or so I'm told. Not to mention the presence of an entire Fancy Pants, who wouldn't drop the average IQ even at a faculty meeting.

Reaching the raised dais, Strict caught a glass from a passing waiter and passed it to me before I climbed the steps. Technically, I was supposed to use Princess Celestia's throne as her stand-in, but I couldn't bring myself to, instead opting to stand between the two.

It's odd how the view was so different, without her there. Almost everypony was looking at me now.

I cleared my throat, trying not to fidget as I recalled the prewritten speech. This was nothing like addressing Highmarket just a few hours earlier. The crowd there had been so enthusiastic that even with a microphone I struggled to make myself heard at the start. Here, there was an expectant silence which sent a shiver along my back. This speech at least, I could be sure was good. The Princess had written it for me.

"Um, my dear stallions and gentlemares, representatives from a dozen countries, I am pleased to welcome you all to the palace tonight to celebrate one of the oldest feasts in the calendar, older than Equestria itself. But I shan't keep you long from the delightful dinner the kitchens have prepared with a history lesson! As always, our thanks goes out to them, and to the farmers who won it from the soil for us. And let us also thank the firefighters even now risking their lives to protect our beautiful city."

There was a murmur as the more devout present passed their own thanks up the Whispering Tree. I gave them a moment as Princess Celestia had suggested, hoping my little addition hadn't come across as too clunky.

Once the majority of heads were back up, I continued. "In complicated times, it is wise now and again to stop and be grateful for the simple things we have. Gentle weather, fertile soil and peace to harvest their bounty. In this year of shocks, all too many lack these things. Therefore as winter approaches, the least we can do is reach out with compassion to them, be they Posniaks fleeing persecution from far Vartai or Olenians upon our very doorstep, whose country has been so viciously and unjustly invaded. Let us now drink the health of Queen Velvet, may she see Hjortland again soon!"

I raised the cider held in my field to the room and below there was a rattle of glass. Near the head of the long table, the doe in question stood and curtsied to me, though she didn't look too cheerful.

A Pelting from the Peanut Gallery

Anda 1st Fading, 1008ALB
"Thank you, Owlowlicious." I said as the he dropped the last of the morning papers on the table in front of me.

The owl hooted, circled and perched on the edge of the table, cocking his head in a certain way.

"Not right now, I'll give you something after breakfast." I said.

"Hoo!"

"Worry not. I shan't lose my appetite over some processed mouse remains." Princess Luna said, clanking over with a stacked plate. She was still wearing the majority of her soot-stained armour, though she'd taken the time to wash her face and hooves.

I pulled a treat from my saddlebags nearby, which Owlowlicious snapped out of my field as soon as it came within reach.

Luna chuckled through a mouthful of toast, covering her food as he flapped out the window of the private dining room, buzzing Blueblood on the way.

"You're in good spirits, your Majesty. Did everything work out at the docks?" I asked while Blueblood tried to wipe tea off his copy of the Daily Sneer.

Luna swallowed. "You need not use such formal language, Twilight. Captain Spout's mares managed to keep the fire contained to a couple of warehouses. They are checking the wreckage now, but everypony who was meant to be there is safe."

"That's a relief." I said.

She nodded. "It is, though the timing of the blaze concerns me. One of those warehouses was storing the latest shipment of equipment for the Royal Guard before it was to be transferred to the armoury in the morning, including over two thousand Lavender rifles."

"Oh no." I muttered, staring at the front page of the paper Owlowlicious had dropped.

"I am glad you understand the gravity of the situation. I am not inclined to believe in coincidence while the banner of Chrysalis flies over the Riksdag." Luna said.

"Not that, I mean yes, that's bad, but..." Tangled in words, I just turned the paper and showed Luna the headline.

'Her S-S-Stammering Majesty OR A Sunny New Smile?' headed in bold letters a photograph of me waving on the balcony over Highmarket. I wasn't even entitled to 'majesty'.

Luna raised an eyebrow and took the paper from my field, then laughed. "The Tall Tale Squabbler! An amusing concept, but I doubt you have much to worry about from them." She then picked another paper out of the pile and her smile turned into a frown. "Oh my."

A chill ran through me. "What is it?"

"Olenia Needs Tanks, Not Words!" Luna quoted. "In a heartwarming speech from the throne, Princess Twilight Sparkle reaffirmed Equestrian support for the struggling nation of Olenia, but do the Deer need yet more hot air after three moons of occupation?"

Hurriedly, I grabbed the Canterlot Herald, which featured a picture of me in a dazed heap on top of Sentry. "Princess Attacked By Foal While City Burns."

"This does not seem so... Cheese Stocks Plummet After Land's Giving Betrayal?" Luna sounded perplexed.

I had other things on my mind however, as I flipped through over a dozen newspapers. It was awful. Hit piece after hit piece. Even the Palace Bugle basically just said they missed Princess Celestia.

Tears welled in my eyes. I'd put in so much effort, and they'd hated it. I'd damaged the reputation of the crowns.

"The Show-"

I interrupted Luna. "Sorry, I... I need to go."

Abandoning my untouched breakfast, I rushed out of the room.

I didn't really care where I went. I just needed to go, to run. Therefore it was instinct that found me charging through the royal offices, dodging confused civil servants.

My rush was eventually stopped by an armoured hoof in a small hallway beyond the offices. "Sorry ma'am, you can't- Are you all right?"

Like the Crystal Guards, the Royal Guard wore munition plate enchanted with an illusion which made them all look much alike, so it hard to tell much about the Guardsmare in front of me, except that she was probably the shortest soldier I'd ever seen.

"I... I need to see Princess Celestia." I glanced at her helmet and tried to remember what a pair of feathers meant. "Um, sergeant."

"Section Leader Rose Meadow, ma'am." The mare corrected. "I'm afraid the Princess isn't in right now." She nodded across the hall to another set of doors, from which the two usual Nightguards were oddly missing. "Nor is Princess Luna."

"C-can I go up and wait for her?" I asked haltingly, trying not to completely break down.

Rose Meadow shook her head. "Sorry ma'am, I wish I could help, but new regulations require written permission to enter when the Diarchs are not present, no exceptions."

I wiped my eyes with a pastern to clear them, muttered something vaguely grateful and sat in a corner to wait and cry as quietly as I could, as ridiculous as that sounds. Why was I even looking to bother Celestia, especially here. She had work to do and probably wouldn't be back until evening.

Rose Meadow meanwhile had a hushed conversation with the second Guard in the room, who had a white crest. After a moment, Rose left, only to return with a pen and some paper, which she placed next to me. "Are you sure you're all right, ma'am?"

I gave the automatic response to the question, even if my tear-stained cheeks made the lie obvious.

"Of course. Technically speaking, the rules say you need written permission from a princess, and well..." She nodded toward the pen. "You look like you could do with a cuppa, ma'am."

Thankfully, I was spared figuring out how to politely turn her down by the tall, graceful mare who swept into the room. The Guardsmare stood to attention.

"Oh Twilight..." Princess Celestia sat down and gathered me into a hug in a way she hadn't in over a decade. "What happened?"

I buried my face against the base of her warm neck and cried into her peytral.

By the time I had finished my halting, half mumbled explanation to her, the tears had mostly dried up and the Guards had long since been dismissed.

"Come with me, we'll work this out." Celestia said, slowly pulling away. It was the first thing she'd said since I started talking.

I nodded and snifflingly followed her through the doorway, up the winding staircase and out into her solar.

We weren't alone at the top. Butter was in the middle of cleaning and made a hasty departure for the stairs which led up to the Princess' bedchamber. I knew there was a hidden door leading off those stairs into a small kitchen-come-apartment for the chambermaid.

Dodging a patch of carpet soap, Princess Celestia led me over to the empty fireplace and we sat side by side on one of the oversized mats. I knew better than to worry that she'd be angry with me, but I still fidgeted. "I'm sorry, Princess."

"For what, Twilight?" She asked.

Where to start? "I messed up. The speech-"

"Was serviceable, both of them were." Celestia cut in calmly. "I was very impressed in the throne room when you adapted on the fly."

"I thought-" I paused. "You phrased that like you were there."

Celestia smiled. "Do you think I would miss my former faithful student's first solo engagement?"

Wasn't that the point? But then again... "I didn't see you."

She tittered impishly. "You may be the best wizard of your generation Twilight, but I still have a few tricks."

I hate how emotions can be so irrational. Something like that had no right to open the floodgates and start me crying again. "But I'm a useless princess. I made the cheese stocks plummet!"

"They'll get over it in a day or two." Celestia reasoned gently, summoning a hoofkerchief from somewhere and dabbing at my eyes with it. "I'm so, so proud of you to have come this far. That doesn't change just because you made a few little mistakes. If you want my main suggestion for how to improve for next time, try not to list every single contributor to an event like a bibliography. You started to lose the audience during that part. Instead, name a couple you think deserve support in particular."

The normalcy of her feedback helped. It was like the old days. "W-wouldn't that just disappoint them all?"

"If you only mention a few, it becomes a boost to them rather than a snub to whoever you leave out." She explained.

"I see..." I muttered, sniffing.

She passed me the hoofkie and a cup of tea, which Butter had brought in without my noticing.

"Princess?" I said after a moment.

Celestia's spoon paused in stirring some sugar into her own tea. "Yes, Twilight?"

"If you were watching, why... Why didn't you do anything when that foal jumped out?" I asked thickly, then hurriedly rephrased, rubbing at my eyes. "I-I mean, you probably didn't have time to react to that, but those cameras and the crowd... There were photos in the papers."

"I could hardly have done anything more hurtful, even if you felt like you were being saved at the time." She pointed the dry end of her spoon at me. "And besides, I think you dealt with the problem rather well."

"But I didn't take charge for ages." I admitted, looking down at the steaming drink between my forelegs. "I just shouted at the crowd, and I lost the family. They were giving that colt a hard time."

"That wasn't ideal, but hopefully he will learn the right lesson from it." Celestia said. "What's more important is that you managed to reassure everypony else by getting the event back on track. You did well with the crowds, and that really was what had me most worried for you going into this."

"The newspapers didn't seem to like it." I pointed out. "Doesn't that matter? Way more Ponies will read them than saw me at the event."

She took a moment to respond, appreciating the tea. "Twilight, I distinctly remember you, nine years old, stomping into my office with a copy of the Canterlot Herald, filled with righteous fury that they misquoted me at the opening of Parliament. Do you remember what I said?"

I wracked my brain, but in the end I had to shake my head.

"Shock sells more than facts, Twilight." She said.

"I said that was stupid." I recalled, because of course the memory came back just a few seconds after I needed it.

Celestia nodded with a small smile. "You did, and you were right. No matter what you did yesterday, they were not going to be kind. If it wasn't the foal or the nerves, they would have said you got drunk, or anything else they could spin without falling under libel to make sure that your first engagement was a shocking headline."

That didn't really make me feel better, though it at least let some of the frustration vent outward. "One of them said such horrid things about you. She said you... Had Cadance."

Celestia looked at the fireplace in a way which even I thought was odd. "How close to the truth malice can fly."

I stared at her. "You're not saying she's right!"

Celestia shook her head. "No. Cadance is not my daughter, biological or otherwise. I... Never had the chance for a family in that way. But Cadance should probably have a talk with you at some point."

I knew better than to question that sort of cryptic instruction, and as the shock ebbed, frustration welled up again. "I shouldn't have said anything to that Gossip mare! She was obviously weird and rude."

"You walked away. Eight years ago, you would have let it spiral into an argument, which was precisely what she was after by the sound of it." Celestia said and with a flash of gold, a newspaper dropped in front of me. "Luna thought you should see this."

The picture was unremarkable, just me with Pear Pounder, but the headline of the Ghastly Gazette read 'The Show Must Go On: Harassed Princess Puts On Brave Performance'.

"Not all of them are like Miss Gossip." She said as I scanned through the article.

"Just most of them." I grumbled in spite of the glowing review.

"Unfortunately, to a greater or lesser extent." Celestia agreed. "Something I find helps is to set aside a specific time to talk to the press, no matter what sort of event it is. You can keep the initiative better that way."

Tears spent and anger burnt, I sighed and picked up my drink at last. "Strict Cadence suggested that in the initial planning session. I wanted to be as accessible as possible, but I should have listened."

"We are all fallible." She said.

"I know. I just don't..." I drew up short of saying it.

Celestia looked at me seriously, and for a moment I felt like I couldn't pull my eyes from hers before her expression softened. "Don't think you're ready. Is that what you want to say?"

I nodded, shook my head, then nodded again. "I... Don't know. I'm being so silly. You were new at this, once upon a time."

"You have the potential, and you're definitely more ready than Luna and I were coming into all this." Celestia sighed and placed a hoof on mine. "But Twilight, you shouldn't try to be me, even me from the dark age. At best, you would be a counterfeit, just as much as I would be a counterfeit if I tried to be you." She paused and chuckled to herself. "Actually, that's not fair. I'm a terrible actress."

"I don't think I've ever seen you mess up at court." I said.

Celestia put her drained cup back on the tray. "Ancestors preserve me, Twilight. I've done everything from picking up the wrong fork to flubbing lines in speeches and tearing my dress on the stage backing for the Cloudsdale Summer Sun Celebration, and that's just in your lifetime."

I frowned. "I'm sure I'd remember an accident like that."

"I daresay you were chewing more books than you were reading, back in nine-eighty-four." She teased. "It sparked off a brief fashion trend, as I recall. But there's more to acting than tying your mane up and playing off the odd mistake, you need more than one persona."

"Luna told me you did a great Princess Platinum last Nightmare Night." I said.

Celestia groaned theatrically and put on an almost painfully shrill voice. "Oh no, that mare has no sense of taste whatsoevah! I mean, just look at her. Always the same disguise - if one can even call some fake fangs a disguise. And her great lumbering brute of a sister is no better. Couldn't tell the difference between a soirée and soufflé, what!"

As the stress and worry fell away, it was like being a filly again, when on the bank holidays she would insist I 'learn how to play' with games of words or boards. Every time I was reluctant, sceptical even, but those first steps toward future friendship lessons always ended in the same laughter as that which carried us to noon.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this short story! As ever I welcome constructive feedback so I can improve my future efforts.