Flamma: The Tale of a Pyromancer

by TMH

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, DJ P0N-3, Original Character, Comedy
Length: 11602

Fair Flame is a unicorn pony with an exceptional gift. This is his story.

Fair Flame is a unicorn living in a Canterlot suburb with his mother, Mahogany Glee, and father, Swift Drift. This work of prose follows his journey and growth from a young colt to a young stallion. Join him and his friend Vinyl Scratch as they fight crime (not really), take tests (quite probably), become alicorns (no), and generally do things of a cute and d'awwable manner.

So what are you waiting for? Get in there and tell me what a miserable excuse for an author I am and how I should go cry myself to sleep in a corner every night, or give me constructive criticism, that works too.

!Warning! Contains young ponies, old ponies, first time fanfic writer, milk, and soy.

Published 2013-01-03 06:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-10-19 04:12:11 UTC

Chapter I: Of a Colt and Filly

Flamma: The Tale of a Pyromancer

Chapter I: Of a Colt and Filly

Life is rather monotonous for an ant. You’re born, you grow, you get kicked out into the harsh world and are expected to bring back anything smelling of foodstuffs, and you generally have less appreciation for the arts than a rock (rocks are notorious for their ingratitude at being carved into various statues and such). Life is indeed a bore for the poor dears. However, never knowing any better, nor having the intellectual resources to criticise their archaic order, it is generally unheard of for the Formicidae complaint line to experience much use. Other than some aphid prank callers, jerks.

*Ahem*

Anywho, a prime example of the unenlightened hexapedal species is Carl. Now Carl, being an ant, does not actually have a name. He has a scent, but in the interest of creating some degree of empathy/humor his name is Carl. Now Carl is going to have a pretty rough day. He’s out on the usual run, looking for rotten fruit or some carcass or another, when, all of a sudden, a soldier ant from a rival colony bursts through the thick foliage. Being satisfied with its desecration of the blade of grass the soldier, Steve, sets his metaphorical sights on our unfortunate protagonist.

Carl steeled his nerves, he would not fail his colony this day. Steve swung his mandibles in an arching downward swing, Carl dodged right. Attempting to gain the initiative Carl quickly swings his own, smaller and more agile, mandible at Steve’s general facial area, Steve parries the attempt. The scene is set, the characters are assembled, and the Final Battle of Ultimate Destiny can begin.

And it would have began if not for the fact that Carl and Steve were suddenly vaporized and proceeded to spread themselves about the yard. Said yard belonged to wife and husband Mahogany Glee and Swift Drift respectively. They were a unicorn and pegasus, also respectively. The two met at a mutual friend’s cutesinera at a young age and hit it off well with their similar interests in crafts and the practical applications of said crafts. They hit it off so well, in fact, that they were married directly after they both reached the proper legal age.

As is bound to occur from loving marriages between a stallion and a mare: a foal was soon born to the agog couple. And, with the magical powers of Equestrian Harmony and the incredible serendipity of all loveable denizens therein, they christened him Fair Flame.

Now, Fair Flame was an exceptional young colt. He was mentored in the ways and peculiarities of the porcelain monolith in but eight months, uttered his first word, “hot”, by age one year and three months, had his first taste of literary sustenance only but two months later, and, in the sake of overachievement, had devoured his first true ink laden meal, “Earth Pony, Unicorn Pony, Pegasus Pony. Red Fishy, Green Fishy, Blue Fishy.” (admittedly a little verbose), with not unimpressive gusto. Thus began a lifelong love of the scholastic pursuits.

Fair Flame was not considering his lifelong achievements, instead he was focusing on the small patch of grass which he recently incinerated. “Off by about point-oh-five hooves. Ponyfeathers.”

He was displeased. Not only had his magic been consistently misaligned with his target (by an entirely unacceptable margin of nearly five percent of an average adult hoof’s diameter), but it had also been nearly constant in generating just enough power to slightly peel some of the paint off his father’s workshop. This did not bother Fair in the slightest, however his father was less than amused to come into his “foundry”, as he so fondly refers to it, only to find that his son had, out of the goodness of his heart, decided to “prepare” his forge.

The preparations had started well enough. Fair had entered the workshop whilst his father was out to buy the necessary materials for the crafting of quality luxury clouds.
From lessons he had given him, Fair knew that for the water vapor to disperse among the air in a craftable pattern the forge had to be raised to a temperature of one-hundred-eighty degrees by increments of twenty. That seemed easy enough to accomplish, especially considering his special talent being fire, and heat in general.
Unfortunately for young Flame, fire has the tendency to move about in the most unhelpful of ways.

A prime example, say, of fire moving about in unhelpful patterns would be if, say, after establishing a point of spell impact in the forge, a young, and completely innocent and undeserving of punishment, colt sent a slightly, say, overpowered spell born of his excitement that, say, proceeded to rush out of the forge that said young, and completely innocent and undeserving of punishment, colt had aimed at, and sought refuge in the molecules of paint covering the walls of the smithy. A, say, complete hypothetical of course.

In the past, however, was that. And, in the present moment, Fair was more focused on focusing his magic so precisely that his teachers, and unicorn mother, thought he might as well be preparing himself to take the entrance exam for Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Fair, though, was not preparing to take the entrance exam for the prestigious school, at least not knowingly. He simply desired for his magic to be precise and controlled, he wasn’t a perfectionist however. In fact, in some areas he was quite the laze.

Art, for example, was a class that he despised with the burning fury of a thousand suns, or at least what his eight year old mind speculated the burning fury of said Celestial bodies would be like. He wasn’t a hater of the arts, he simply hated creating the arts. Drawing was worthy of particular disdain. No matter how many lopsided stick figures he painstakingly forced into existence Mister Canvas Scratch, the despicable old Tartarus escapee (and Director of Arts for Clear Skies Primary School of Canterlot School District Twelve), was never satisfied: “Come now, I know Mister Flame can do better than that.”, or “Really now Mister Flame, even my niece can devise a more attractive piece.” That was Mister Canvas Scratch’s one redeeming factor in Fair’s eye, his niece. Vinyl Scratch: a white unicorn filly with an outrageous, to put it mildly, mane and tail of two shades of electric blue, a passion for the audible arts, and the best friend a colt could ask for.

Vinyl was actually the only pony Fair considered a friend, most took one look at his grades and considerable personal library and branded him a most unnatural aberration of what is morally acceptable to the tacit rules that all young ponies live by: If an adult finds pleasure in it then it’s to be avoided as if it was a bubbling cauldron of physical hygiene liquids, water, and ugh...soap. Fair refused this archaic concept in favor of increasing his knowledge and magical abilities, and smell.

This, however, was not on his mind. What was on his mind was how anyone could possibly look at the results of his magic and call it “Satisfactory.” To him, it was seemingly a disgrace to all unicorns that he could not get his horn to direct magic to the bullseye that is figuratively painted on a quark in an atom of a blade of grass in his yard. It was, in fact, not. But he is an odd one.

Having enough of the stressful practice, and realizing he may have set his mother’s vegetable garden on fire, again, Fair decides to put a fair amount of distance between himself and the impromptu sauteed vegetables. To Vinyl’s it was.

The ground shook as if Celestia had decided that today she would swing the sun around so close to the planet that the gravitational forces, that for some convoluted and absurd magicaly-thaumatical-scienctificish reason allowed for a geocentric star system, would tear it apart. She had not.

Vinyl Scratch was not the immortal royal demi-goddess that reigned over all Equestria, and the sun. However, she was a filly with a passion for music, particularly the beats in said music, and a unicorn, and owned several bass drums and bass guitars, and, as of yet, had no formal musical training, and, well, you can see where I’m going with this.

Fair could most definitely hear where I was going with this. Perhaps it would be more apt to say that he could feel where I was going with that. Mister Canvas, old cantankerous stallion that he was (he refused to accept lighting a box of crayons on fire and throwing them onto a canvas, which promptly burst into flames, as a proper wax painting.), had grown tired of hearing his niece wail on a bass drum, and had decided that he would get an extension built onto his suburban Canterlot house which was lined with soundproofing spells. Unfortunately, the spells only worked when the door was closed and properly locked.

Fair, being well versed in this facet of soundproofing spells, picked up his pace from a sedate trot to a near full gallop to save his friend from a lecture. “VINYL!” Too late.

Fair pulled up on his reins, so to speak, and quietly, and with great skill, snaked his way around the outer walls of the house, through the terrace, and up to the corner of the previously mentioned soundproofed exterior. The door was still open. “Vinyl, for Celestia’s sake filly, remember to keep door closed.”

“I did. Kinda. I think...”

“You didn’t, I could feel my bones trying to jump their way out of me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole neighborhood could feel that. This is the last straw, no hayshake for you tonight.”

“I’m sowwy Uncle, I’ll twy and do bedder...” Vinyl was a master of the art of the manipulation of adults.

“Filly, oh please don’t make that face, oh alright.” Cue adorable happy face and foreleg hug.

“Oh thank you Uncle. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you thank you thank you thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyoutankyoutankyatank-”

“But don’t let it happen again.” Pause. “You’re sounding better.”

“You think so!? I found this old book in Fair Flame’s attic. It’s got all these lines with circles on ‘em and stuff-” Fair knew the book she was talking about. Vinyl and him had found it collecting dust in his attic. Collecting was putting it mildly, it would be more accurate to say that the book ,“Basic Music Theory and Application for Beginners”, was hoarding any airborne particles it could with an insatiable avarice. The book was nearly half its original size by the time the two youths had finished coughing and hacking the dust off it.

“They’re called notes honey.”

“Yeah that’s right, notes. Anyway, me and Fair were going through it and it said that the little plain circles were called ‘whole notes’ and that they get ‘four beats in a four four time siganature’ and we-

“Signature.”

“Huh?”

“You meant to say signature.”

“I did? When?”

“When you said siganature instead.”

“No, I meant to say siganature.”

“But that’s not a- No forget about it Canvas, you know you can’t reason with that filly. Meadows, I swear, when I die I’m going to knock you silly. Leaving an old stallion like me to raise a little filly...” Fair wasn’t quite sure what Canvas had said after “a” but he assumed it was unimportant.

“Can Fair come in Uncle?”

“What?”

“Can Fair come in, he’s standing outside the door.” Fair made himself known with a sheepish grin.

“Celestia have mercy on an old stallion. Would a quiet afternoon be too much to ask?
Come on in Mister Flame, by all means make yourself at home. You’ve already eavesdropped on us, might as well show you some hospitality. I’m going back to my study Vinyl, just, please, try not to leave this door open.” Canvas promptly makes his way out. Ironically, he leaves the door ajar.

“Hey Vinyl.”

“Hey Fair.”

“Whatta ya’ wanna do today?”

“I don’t know. We already got most the neighbors this week. Hmmmm...ooh what if we go hit the guards today?” Vinyl and Fair had become notorious around their particular Canterlot suburb as merciless pranksters. They hit neighbors, family, the occasional noble passing through, either toward or away from Upper Canterlot, where Celestia made her home, but most of all they hit the Royal Guards.

The Royal Guards were Equestria’s standing army. Really they were like one big unit of engineers, police, and mobile statues, but they performed their duties with pride and unblinking rock-like stoicism. They were so well disciplined when on duty that some speculated Celestia actually gave life to rocks so that they could guard her. What I’m trying to say is that they’re really really still. The most relaxed state they are capable of assuming seems to be a perfect parade rest, and only then when they’re sleeping.

To the dynamic du- I mean the colt and filly before us, this aspect of the Guard only presented a challenge. A challenge that they met with relentless ingenuity and sadistic pleasure. Their antics were so infamous that nearly every guard in Canterlot was a victim of one of, witnessed one of, or otherwise knew of one of their pranks. Rumor even had it that Celestia herself was aware of the sinister criminal scum and their violent rampage.

Unbeknownst to the two, they were about to formulate one of the most important events in their lives. “It’s been awhile since we hit ‘em. I’m in.” Fair agreed with a conspiratorial nod of doom, the guards’ doom to be precise.

Author's Note

Questions, comments, concerns? Ask away. Feel free to unleash your full arsenal of critical review, I eagerly anticipate your scathing criticisms and ego-boosting praise.

Chapter II: The Prank

Chapter II: The Prank

Pleasant Duty was having a, well, pleasant day. His C.O. had put him in for a commendation, for being the designated carriage driver at her Nightmare Night party, his new suit, that cost him over three hundred bits, was coming in today, this was his last day before a two week leave, and on top of all that his friend and fellow guardspony, Silver Streak, was buying at the tavern tonight.

If he had known what was coming he would have stayed in bed that morning.

Fair and Vinyl had, with the help of shenanigans, taken an overwatch position on one of the southern Royal Guard checkpoints. Like most of the other checkpoints, this checkpoint consisted of a small barracks/armory for anywhere from three to twelve guards. Three to twelve unsuspecting guards.

Satisfied that no special event was taking place, our heroes began their conniving:

“What’s the plan?” Fair asked with a glance at Vinyl

“You know those little parts of their armor that they stick their snouts in and pull down around their necks?” Fair did know. The parade armor of the royal guard had a piece that was connected to the top of the main armor that you had to insert your snout into and pull down into place.

“Yeah, what about it?” A bit of trepidation was present in Fair’s voice. He had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach about this. Even more so than the time he thought eating grass straight from the compost pile was a good idea.

“Well they always rush to go switch into it when some important pony is coming right?” A nod in the affirmative. “So what if you use your magic to kinda melt the little hingy thingy so that, when they go to put it on, they get their snouts stuck in it?”

“Um, I don’t know Vinyl wouldn’t that be vandmalism?” Fair asked with the most adawwable wittle unsure face! *ahem*
“Huh?” Vinyl enunciated her perplexity with an also so adawwable wittle confused face and ohmagawd they are just so cutesy and I just want to hug them and hug them and hugthem and hugthem andhugthemandhugthemandhugthem!

“I mean, wouldn’t that be bad?”

“Nope!”

…

…

…

…

“Why?”

“Oh, because Celestia can pay for more of them. I know so because Uncle is always talking about how the gov-er-no-ment is taking all his bits and he can’t see why the Princess won’t put more money into the ed-u-ca-shone thingy because he’s an old stallion and by Celestia he’s worked hard to get his teaching job and now they decide to cut the fun-dang to it and then he kinda mumbles to himself about having ‘half a mind to march up to the castle and demand that they raise his pen-shune’ but then he takes some of his ‘special pills’ and sleeps for a long time. He snores.”

Ignoring the complete onslaught of verbiage that was just thrust at him, Fair responds by putting a hoof to his chin, “Hmmmm, I don’t know.”

“If you help I’ll let you play one of my drums!”

“Deal.”

Pleasant could almost taste the sweet, frothy, Canterlot Ale flowing down his throat like an alcoholic nectar of the gods bottled and sold in often less than reputable establishments, of which he, and most other guards, was a frequenter of.

He was so caught up in his daydream that he barely even took notice when he thought he heard snickering coming from the window just to the left him. He would have opened his eyes, gotten up from his chair, and investigated, but the promise of the aforementioned ale combined with the fact that the windows in this barracks were notoriously squeaky lead him to decide not to bother with it.

Big mistake for him.

Some might even call it a Celestial mistake.

“Hehehehe, Fair look at that pony over there, he’s sucking his hoof.” Vinyl observed to Fair with a glance downward.

“Kinda busy Vinyl!” Fair replied not looking back up at the filly he was currently boosting to the window.

“Hehe, sorry.”

Several struggles against gravity later.

“Okay, okay. I’m in the window. Give me your hooves.” Vinyl stretched her own hooves down to grab Fair’s.

“Okay, pull me up.” Fair still felt a sense of foreboding, like a black cloud had blotted out the sun, and when it passed the sun, too, was dark. Kinda like that time he accidently incinerated a piece of furniture his mother was making, and, when the ash cloud had settled, he looked back at his soot stained mother only to find that her eyes were watering, because she hadn’t closed them once since he had set that table on fire.

“Umpf. You got it?” Vinyl glanced at her friend’s hoofing.

“Yeah. Now how are we gonna get down from here?” Fair whispered while gazing at the floor so far below.

“That’s easy. We jump.”

“Oh. But won’t that hurt.”

“Not if you know what you’re doing!”

“Mmmmmmmm, another round on you? Well, if you insist...”

Pleasant Duty was still preoccupied with the vividly viceful vixen which was his voracious verisimilitude of inebriation in the very near future. He definitely would be drinking tonight, though not with joy.

He was awoken from his illusion of liquor by a feminine scream coming from nearby. He knew that voice well, the voice that had yelled him into attention countless times during his being stationed here. That was the voice of his C.O., Sergeant Mossy Stones.

There were only two things that would prompt that kind of reaction from the sergeant’s vocal cords: an all expense paid trip to the spa, or a surprise inspection. I would have also added being kicked in the genitals, however, Mossy Stones is of the female persuasion.

Pleasant really hoped she was going to the spa today.

“Woa-aaaaaaaaaaaah!” Whack.

Snicker. “Nice landing Fair. You okay?”

“No...”

“Aw, quit your pouting and get up. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Ow, how did you make it down so easily?”

“I jumped. You slipped.” Vinyl giggled, thinking back to her friend’s surprisingly large amount of painful encounters with the ground.

“Well yeah. I guess.” Sigh. “Well let’s get go-”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA...”
“What the hay is that!?” Vinyl and Fair both screamed, their heads, ears, and eyes swiveling around to locate the noise.

“Come on Vinyl let’s hurry! I’ll get the armor, you go look out for anypony.”

“Right.” She ran over to the door as fast as her adorable wittle wegs could cawwy her and she wooked outside -cough- she uh, she opened the door and poked her head out to see six guardponies standing around a guardpony that was holding a scroll in her hoof and screaming her head off.

“What do you see Vinyl?” Fair asked, not looking away from the second set of armor he was sabotaging.

“Um, some guardmare that found out her puppy just died or something?” Vinyl kinda half-stated half-asked whilst scratching her mane.

“I’m almost done with the last one...” One zap of magic later. “Alright let’s get outta here!”

“Uh oh, Fair they’re running this way!”

“Um, um...oh! Hurry get in that big saddlebag!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”, Sergeant Mossy Stones slapped herself. “Don’t just stand there idiots! Get into your parade armor!” She looked back down at the scroll that a pegasus guard had just delivered to her.

Sergeant Stones,

In light of the recent series of humiliations you and other Guardsponies have allowed to disgrace this Office, Nation, and City, Princess Celestia herself has decided to make a round of surprise inspections today.

Your turn.

No doubt she will catch you twiddling your hooves and making a mockery of everything I, and this Guard Corp, hold dear.

From the Office of the Commander of the Guard,
Spirited Helm

Ad Majorem Celestia Gloriam

Sergeant Stones resumed her screams of terror and galloped toward the barracks with the rest of her guards.

Celestia was amused.

Although she would never admit it to anypony, she enjoyed seeing her little ponies squirm sometimes. At least until they started begging her to refrain from banishing them, or throwing them in the dungeon, or banishing them and then throwing them in a dungeon in the place that she banished them to.

She really had no idea where these terrible fears came from. She had spent years trying to figure it out, and she ended up with only two possibilities: she has psychopathic tyrannical episodes that no pony has told her about, or nationwide indigestion.

But, nevertheless, the day’s round of surprise inspections had gone smoothly so far, excepting that one guard that fainted when she looked him in the eyes, and she had no doubt that the rest of the day would be relaxing and uneventful. Devoid of drama. Placid and tranquil. In a word: serene.

“I really should get out more.”

“Your horn is poking my back!” Shuffling.

“Yeah, well, yours is itching my back hooves!” Bit of rough-housing.

SLAM

“Alright, come on, get moving!” A quaking, yet authoritative, feminine voice yelled out. “No time to put it on now! Grab your stuff, get outside, and FORM RANKS!”

A chorus of “Yes ma’am”s echoed in the barracks as guards in various states of fear, confusion, and shellshock scrambled to their storage spaces and removed their armor with yanks and throws that could be mistaken for muscle spasms. Some of them probably were.

With petrified haste (completely possible I assure you) Stones galloped over to her own cubby, flung her parade armor into her hooves, picked up her officer's saddlebags, and ran outside to form her guards into ranks and pretend like they were born standing at attention in those spots.

Vinyl ignored the pain emanating from her back and leaned over to Fair. “We’re in trouble aren’t we?”

Fair, ever the eloquent orator, responded simply. “We sure are sister.”

Chapter III: The Inspection and the Events Thereof

Chapter III: The Inspection and the Events Thereof

Her Most Immaculate and Serene Majesty, Princess Celestia of Equestria, was a bit of a trickster at heart, though few would ever dare suspect it. Of course, her current occupation had some perks, an army of servants and an army of armed stallions come to mind, but, more than once, she had found herself fantasizing about once again showing herself into the courts of kings and queens, making a muck of the status quo, and flying off into the sunset to reconvene with her family. Sadly, though, her family was a bit small at the moment, small as in she, herself, and her.

Shaking her head to dispel the darkening thoughts, Celestia lifted her head to see the next checkpoint coming into view. “Guards?”

Two “Your Majesty?”’s rang out in perfect unison.

“What are those ponies doing, up ahead?” Celestia asked with a tilt of her head toward the ponies in question.

“They seem to be practicing the mating call of the damned, Your Highness.”

“I agree with the Lieutenant, Princess. I am agog to see where this might lead.”

Both of these answers were vocalized without hint of emotion and without falter of voice. Celestia hoofpicked her personal guards, and was very well acquainted with them, she would go so far as to call these two fellows in particular friends.

“I see. Well then, let’s investigate, shall we, gentlestallions?”

Two “Of course, Your Highness.”’s rang once more in perfect unison.

======&&*&&======

Sergeant Mossy Stones was not a happy pegasus.

In fact, one might venture so far as to call her a really really upset meanie pants, if one were so inclined to use such profanities.

Sergeant Stones was usually very genial, she had a cushy station, the guards under her were easy enough to handle, and she could practically hear her Lieutenantship calling her, despite the fact that she was a preferred punching bag of the Commander of the Canterlot Province Guard himself. Some contemporary events had obviated her normally ubiquitous jovialness, however. Chiefest of these contemporaries was the rather painful angle her head was now forcibly stuck in.

That and the hilariously pitiful moans and cries of her guards. There were the usual profanities and cries for matriarchal figures, as well as some truly creative expletives involving hair anatomically impossible to grow on Celestia.

Unfortunately for the Sergeant, Celestia decided to make her presence known, via polite cough, after the quandam expletive was vocalized with some intensity.

“I can assure you that I have never had such hair, nor has my mother. Sergeant Stones and subordinates, I assume?” Celestia, flanked by her stone-faced guards, uttered this with a matter-of-fact tone and a nearly imperceptible frown.

“P-P-Prin-? ATTENTION!” With this the Sergeant and her guards quickly and precisely stepped into a consummate attention stance. Or, rather, they would have. Instead, nearly half of the guards rammed their snouts into their disabled neckpiece, with predictable results, some quarter of them simply tripped and fell over eachother, having their eyes in the air and all, and the rest just fell over, presumably dead from exposure to unnaturally high levels of absurdity.

And the poor Sergeant was left staring Celestia straight in the eyes, from the angle her head was forced into.

Celestia inched her head forward, slowly closing the gap between her snout and the Sergeant’s.

“This would be, quite possibly, . . .”

Seven inches.

“. . . one of the most disgraceful things . . .”

Six.

“. . . I have seen. . .”

Five.

“. . . in the last two-hundred years, . . .”

Four.

“. . . were it not for the fact . . .”

Three.

“. . . that the two foals responsible. . .”

Two.

“. . . are literally children . . .”

One.

“ . . . and in your saddlebag.”

Zero.

With their noses practically touching, Celestia laughed uproariously, by noble standards, that is to say that she actually laughed more than a petite giggle, took a few steps backwards, and said, “Oh my! I do apologize, Sergeant, but I haven’t had the chance to do something of the kind since the Second Moon of Nine-Eighty-Seven, Third Age.”

One of the guards spoke up, “One month ago. I do believe you may have reverted, Your Majesty.”

“Did I? Ah! Indeed I did. I must get out more, all those dusty old books are beginning to manifest themselves in the most awkward of ways.”

By this time, the Sergeant had renounced ever being able to sleep, or show her face anywhere, ever again. Though she found the strength to ask forgiveness, “Your Majesty?”

“Oh, my apologies once again Sergeant, I seem to have been ignoring you.”

“Yes-I MEAN NO. I mean, uh, my deepest apologies, Your Highness, me and my guards have failed.” The Sergeant hung her head in shame, or would have, if not for, you know. Unfortunately for the poor mare, fate had decided that she was not quite punished enough for the gross negligence of her armoury; and so introduced two foals, whom the Princess had mentioned, but the Sergeant was too preoccupied having a furtive heart attack to comprehend.

Out popped a white horned head. A white horned head with a mouth that promptly sucked in a lungful of fresh, foal free air.

“VINYL!” And out popped an orange horned head. Though instead of breathing, it berated its compatriot head.

“Ahhhhh, that’s better. It’s not that you smell bad, Fair, it’s just hard to breath with my snout in your side.”

“What? That doesn’t matter, Vinyl, we’re suppose to be hiding.”

“But I’m not good at hiding when I can’t breath. I just make a lot of noises.”

“Ponies don’t make noises when they can’t breath, they just kinda twitch around.”

“Nuh-uh. Uncle makes a lot of noises when he takes his big yellow pills. He says they go down like bricks, and I asked him how he knew one time, and he told me it was a figure of speech and I asked him what figure meant but I said it like figger,” this was accompanied by Vinyl waving her hooves about, and making appropriate facial expressions. It was really, really cute. That is all, “and he spent an hour teaching me to say it right, and when he was done he looked at the bottle and mumbled something and took some more pills. And then he got in his chair and slept for a long time. I drew a cat on his pillow.”

Fair was completely unfazed by his friend, unlike everypony else, and simply said, “I don’t know. Your Uncle is kinda weird.”

“Yeah, he is.” With this, they both fell into a deep pondering pose, with their hooves under their chins. “Oh, I know! Let’s ask the Princess.”

“Princess?” Fair took glance around, found he was being watched by over a dozen ponies, yelped, and fell against Vinyl. Vinyl, in turn, fell against the side of the Sergeant, who was in such a state of shock, that the weight of the two foals sent her careening to the ground. Vinyl and Fair tumbled out of the saddlebags when the Sergeant hit the ground, and wound up at Celestia’s forehooves.

“I’ve seen a lot of spies in my day, but these are definitely some of the most effective. To think, they not only infiltrated an armory, disabled an entire squad’s armor, stole away inside the commander’s very saddlebags, and ambushed the same squad from within, they actually made it to my very own hooves. You two aren’t assassins are you?”

“Do assassins use fire?”
“Fair what’s an assassin?” Both of these queries were simultaneous, and complete gibberish to the ponies present.

“I don’t know Vinyl. Miss Princess, do they?”

“Hmmm? I suppose some do, though that certainly doesn’t seem very effective.”

“Oh.” He turned to face Vinyl, “I still don’t know.”

“Princess, what’s an assassin?” Vinyl asked, full of curiosity.

“An assassin, young Miss Scratch, is a pony who tries to kill another pony for money.”

“That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“I agree, my little pony. Not very nice at all.”

“Princess, how do you know my name?”

“Don’t you know? I know all my little ponies’ names.”

Fair piped up, “That sounds really creepy, like when mommy calls daddy a stud at night.”

For a few moments there was absolute silence. The awkwardness and apprehension was palpable to everypony, except the two foals.

Then Celestia broke out into a true laugh. In fact, it was beyond a laugh, it was a cachinnation. Everypony, excepting the foals who just looked around confused, let out a small sigh at Her Majesty’s laughter, and her two personal guards had to blink more than once in ten seconds to release the energy building inside them for a laugh, or sprint to safety.

“*snigger* Ahem. I am sorry my li-” Celestia let out a petite giggle more befitting of an immortal goddess able to call down the fury of the Sun to any who dare oppose her, and resumed, “I apologize. I do believe you are the first to observe and say such to my face. And, in actuality, I know both of your names from your recent conversations, and, I must apologize again, it is terribly rude of me to eavesdrop.”

“Apology accepted.”
“Okay.”

Celestia looked confused for a moment, or as confused as an immortal monarch, use to hours of nobles and aristocrats petitioning her, can look. This was the first time in perhaps over a decade that someone had actually accepted an apology from her, and not just pass it off as an automatic response conditioned from centuries of “prominent” soirees, which, in fact, it was. It was humbling to see these foals treat her as if she were no different than a classmate of theirs.

“How would you two like to come with me for a tour of the castle?”

“That’d be fun, but mom and dad might get upset if I’m not back before dinner.”

“Yeah, and Uncle says he can’t take his other pills until I’m in bed and he’s locked the door. And those are his favorite pills.”

“How responsible. I daresay you and your guards may be able to gleam some lessons off these two remarkable young miscreants.” Until this, the Sergeant had been hoping that Her Highness would completely ignore and forget about her and her guards’ ignominious situation.

“I-I, yes. Of course, Your Majesty.” Once again, any possibility of hanging her head in shame was crushed by her armor’s indefatigable refusal to give way to her mandible.

Author's Note

Questions, comments, concerns?
Please direct yourself to the comment section below.
All comments, likes, dislikes (with accompanying comments), and watches are appreciated.

Have a nice day.

The Magus de PROFUGUS

Chapter IV: Tea Time Part I

Chapter IV: Tea Time Part I

While many parents may dream of their foal arriving home with royalty, most begin hyperventilating when it actually happens. Swift and Mahogany fit rather nicely into this generally accepted fact.

Mahogany Glee was well aware that her son was gifted in the field of magic, both practical and theoretical, but, well, she never expected to be sharing tea with Princess Celestia in her living room because of it. It all started as a normal afternoon...

“Honey, Swift, have you seen Fair?”

Swift Drift was sitting on a couch in the living room working on some annoying calculations for a very luxurious piece of cloudwork for a noble couple in Cloudsdale. He was sav- I mean interrupted by his wife calling to him from the doorway to her workshop.

“Hmm? No, he probably went to play with Canvas’ niece.”

“I’m sure you’re right, there’s no telling what those two are up to.” As she was saying that she was concurrently walking to where her husband was sitting. Reaching him, she nuzzled his wing, which he lifted up and enveloped her in, whilst simultaneously placing his papers on the nearby coffee table.

Swift’s mood was now much improved from what it had been, he’d trade paperwork for a cuddle with his wife any day.

“Those two remind me of us when we were their age.” Swift nuzzled his wife’s cheek as he talked.

“Please, we were worse.” Mahogany mumbled this into her husband’s chest. “*sigh* I need this. I think I had to sacrifice part of my soul to finish that last order. Who needs a fan made of Makassar Ebony? I must have gone through a dozen pieces before I managed to get that last blade. The client probably won’t like it anyway, I told her she’d want something less eye catching for a fan.*sigh*” She looked up from his chest and looked him in the face. “How’s your torture going?”

“Me? I’m doing fine. You know, aside from the whole lightning bed project.” With that he laid his head down on the couch and pouted in a manner Mahogany thought very cute. “I can’t fathom how anypony expects a bed to emit static electricity on demand, not erupt when you bounce on it, and on top of it all, charge itself passively without turning the entire house into a thunderhead. *sigh* It’s like they want a bomb you can kick like a ball, use as a headrest, and then explode and put itself back together in time for your soccer game.”

Mahogany giggled at her husband’s little rant. “Aww, honey. It’ll be okay. Just ask Fair to help you.”

“That’s a good idea, maybe he can put a fireball in there, give my clients a real piece of my mind.” He sighed and sat back up. “Speaking of our little pyromaniac, he should be home now, it’s almost-”

“-time for dinner? I hope you feel like getting takeout, because ‘our little pyromaniac’ burnt down my vegetable garden.”

Swift facehoofed, which his wife giggled at, and said, “That colt is either gonna be a war-mage or a lawyer. Either way he’ll burn ponies.” He gave his wife a cheesy smile, “Pretty good huh?”

Mahogany rolled her eyes, “Don’t quit your day job dear.”

Swift stuck his snout in the air, “Hmmph, some ponies just don’t know good comedy.”

“W-”

*knock-knock* “Hello?” A stallion’s voice sounded from behind the front door

“You get back to your work dear, I’ll get the door.” Mahogany stood from the couch and made her way over to the door. She expected to see a potential client when she opened the door, not a Royal Guard.

“Hello, miss Glee?” The guard asked.

“Umm, yes, sir that’s me. Who are you, may I ask?” She asked, noticing the incredibly lavish carriage on the street behind the guard.

“I’m Lieutenant Sacred Oath, personal guard to Her Majesty Princess Celestia. The Princess has arrived with your son and his friend and requests an amount of your time to discuss the future of your son.” This was delivered with a warm, if not quite friendly, tone.

With her jaw somewhere on the ground around the front porch, and her eyes ready to relocate to a socket capable of fitting them, it could be said that Mahogany was somewhat, to a degree, perhaps, slightly, as in it wouldn’t be an overly long stretch to say, well, she was blown completely away, flabbergasted, wholly and unadulteratedly shocked.

To move this verbosity along she said, with a voice like a lotus leaf floating over a minefield, “Swift, dear, make some coffee.”

…and now she was having a "chat" with the immortal, universally revered and feared, Goddess of the Sun, and Supreme Monarch of Equestria, Princess Celestia.

And it was only Tuesday.

Her son and his friend were off playing in the backyard, probably in the ashes of her vegetable garden.

She hoped her eye twitch wasn’t overtly obvious.

Oh, and not to forget, she was discussing her son’s entire future with said Princess-Goddess.

“Your son is exceptionally talented, Miss Glee, Mister Drift, the average adult unicorn would experience at least moderate thaumaturgical fatigue after welding military grade steel alloy, but your son did all that without breaking a sweat. In fact, I daresay he could exert four or five times more effort before beginning to experience any substantial fatigue. And with training? I believe prodigy is a term aptly applied to him, and by extension, his friend, Vinyl Scratch. Whose uncle should be joining us shortly.”

Swift was about to speak, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. The guard that Mahogany first spoke to magicked open the door from his position beside it, and in trotted Canvas Scratch, and the other guard who promptly shut the door and assumed a guard position on the remaining side of it.

He bowed, “Princess Celestia.”

“Oh, Mister Scratch we were just speaking of you. Please do join us, I believe you and our gracious hosts are acquainted?”

“I teach general art to their son, yes ma’am.” Canvas seemed rather, perhaps not unfazed, but composed. Mahogany was more than a little envious of his ability.

“Oh, let me get you some coffee Mister Scratch.” Mahogany was eager to get a quick respite from the mental onslaught that was this conversation. Her husband was on his own for the moment.

“Thank you, Miss Glee, that would be lovely.” Canvas Scratch took a seat on one of the cushions around the coffee table. Celestia occupied the couch, as, for some odd reason, the owners of the house had quickly vacated it and left it open.

“Two sugars?” Mahogany called from the kitchen.

“I’ll take it without sugar, if you don’t mind.”

“Is there anything we can do for you, Your Highness?” Swift asked, pointedly looking away and below the gaze of Her Most Immaculate Majesty.

“I thank you for the kind offer, Mister Drift, but I wouldn’t want to trouble you; I am quite alright.” Celestia declined the offer with a small smile.

“Tea, coffee, swan, anything?” Swift continued nervously, looking up at Her Majesty for the smallest fraction of a second.

“Some tea would be lovely, if you please.” Imperceptible to nearly anypony, excepting her guards, Celestia gave the smallest of sighs.

“Right away, Your Highness.” Swift upheld his moniker and was beside his wife in the kitchen in what was, more or less, a new world record for the twelve meter dash.

“So, Mister Scratch,” Celestia took her attention away from the quickly retreating form of the pegasus and toward Canvas Scratch, “Let’s get right to business.”

“A sweet hello to you too, Celestia.” Canvas stuck his snout in the air with a clearly over exaggerated look of indignation.

“I’d be careful if I were you Canvas, wouldn’t want a certain painting to be mysteriously stolen and end up in the hooves of an EQD reporter, would we?” She threatened with a sadistic little grin, and Canvas couldn’t tell if she was serious or messing with him.

“Celly, you wouldn’t.” He wasn’t sure where his jaw was, but it certainly wasn’t with the rest of his face.

“Wouldn’t I, Canny?” Celestia had the sweetest, most “You’re right where I want you,” look possible adorning her trickster's face.

Canvas sighed, “Fine Celestia, I’m too old for this, what do you want?” he looked her straight in the eyes.

“I want to put your niece and her friend in CSGU’s EP-YGaD program.” She disposed of any playfulness and jocularity, business time.

The guards, of course, hadn’t done more than respirate the entire time.

“Yes!” Celestia gave his euphoric countenance an incredulous, and disapproving, glare. He wilted noticeably and defended, “Don’t get me wrong, I love the filly, she’s great kid, but I can’t take care of her, not full time. Between my job and my job I have a pretty full plate, for a sixty-eight year old stallion. And, to be honest, my health isn’t all that great, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be around, but I have pretty good chance of kicking the bucket before the kid is eighteen.”

“Don’t say that Canvas, you’re stronger than you know.”

“Even so Celestia, the kid doesn’t have anywhere to go when I go, this is perfect.” He looked pleased with his defense, then his eyes widened slightly, as if realizing something that should have been obvious. “Umm, I’m grateful and all, but why?”

Celestia gave a small laugh, “I was wondering when you’d actually hear what I said. And to answer your question: Your niece’s general thaumaturgical potential is somewhere around four million PSTU, and Fair’s is about four point five million.”

“Y-y-you can’t be serious, that’s extraordinarily high. I’m three hundred seventy-five thousand, and that’s considered uncommonly high.” Canvas looked like he might need a few, no most, actually ALL his medications, and a doctor to prescribe refills and at least a crate of new chemically engineered somewhat legal medications

“There’s more. Will you be oka-”

“THERE’S MORE!?”

“Indeed. I suspect that, with proper training, these two could become the most powerful unicorns in at least seven hundred years. Maybe the most powerful since Star Swirl.”

“I-I can’t-I mean that’s-that is incredible. I wish Meadows was here to hear this.”

“I suspect that if you had become much louder she may have very well heard you. I am well aware that our gracious hosts did, and on that note: they are more than welcome to join us.” Celestia turned herself from Canvas and toward the kitchen doorway, where two sheepish ponies made their way out.

“I apologize Your Ma-”
“I apologize Prince-”

The two looked at each other.

“What I mean is-”
“We were looking for the light switch.”

All eyes went to Swift.

Mahogany facehooved, “Honey, sometimes I think it’s a miracle you ever learned to talk, but it’s more like a curse.”

“But the light switch IS out here. It’s right here.” He flicked it a couple of times to demonstrate.

“Honey, open your eyes and get that smug grin off your face.”

Swift did as his wife said, and promptly realized the room was dark. “Why-”

“Dear.”

“Oh. I’ll go finish the coffee.” He started towards the doorway only to bump his snout into the wall. “Ow. Ponyfe-”

Before he could finish that mysterious word, that will forever remain a mystery, his wife magicked him into the kitchen. Except it was still dark and she instead rammed him into the wall.

“OH MY GOSH! HONEY ARE YOU OKAY!?” Mahogany rushed to her husband’s side, as Celestia magicked on the lights, well aware of what would happen if she didn’t.

“Never better dear.” He said as he dislodged his head from its designer wall mount. “I think I’ll just go water the coffee machine and pour the kids. Wouldn’t want the coffee to get in the ceiling fans.” Stumbling around the living room, he fell over the coffee table and wound up at Celestia’s feet.

“Hey Princess, you got a rainbow mane in your crown, or is that a bird? No, it’s stars, a lot of pretty stars.” Then he passed out.

Author's Note

CSGU's EP-YGaD - Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorn's Extraordinary Potential - Youth Growth and Development

You try putting that on a road sign.

Questions, comments, concerns?
Hit up the comment section below.

Chapter V: Tea Time Part II and Travel

Chapter V: Tea Time Part II and Travel

All was quiet.

After all, it’s not everyday a stallion winds up out cold at Her Majesty’s hooves. Then the oddest thing happened, Vinyl’s voice echoed from above:

“I hope your dad’s okay, he doesn’t look so good.”

Everyone’s heads, excluding the guards, snapped to the ceiling.

“Hey Fair?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they can hear us?”

“Umm, maybe?”

“Oh. That would make sense. I think we’re in trouble.”

“Why?”

“I think we got caught leaves-dropping.”

“Oh. I think we should get out now.”

“Okay.”

“Wait, Vinyl what are y-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”
“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Two diminutive unicorns came tumbling from the air vent above Celestia. Using her magic, Celestia safely diverted their course from one that would have impaled them on her horn, to one that bounced them off a pillow into her wings.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the two brave adventurers. Though, I must ask you two to refrain from crawling through air ducts in the future. Unless you want me to turn you into dust mites?”

Vinyl answered first, “Do dust mites have glowing red eyes?”

Celestia responded, clearly amused, “No Vinyl, I’m afraid they don’t.”

That drew a disappointed, “Awww,” from the foal.

Fair stared at the Princess, “You can do that?”

“Indeed I can young Fair Flame.”

As Fair stared at the Princess in wonder, and Vinyl quietly pondered if dust mites were made of actual dust or lint, Celestia took a quick survey of the room.

Let’s see, two shocked unicorns, one pegasus with a mild concussion at my hooves, and two air duct exploring foals snuggled into my wing. Interesting day.

“Hey Princess?”

“Yes, Vinyl?”

“Your wing is really soft.” As she said that she snuggled harder into Celestia’s wing.

“I suppose it is isn’t it? It’s good to know my new shampoo and conditioner is working well.” The Princess found herself quite enamored with the two little unicorns in her wing. It was not their innocence, she had seen quite a bit of that in her time, it was their simple observations, their inventiveness. They reminded her quite a bit of herself when she was their age, equivalent age at least.

The Princess was drawn away from her idle thoughts by the awakening of Swift Drift at her hooves. “Oh, my head. What happened?” He looked up. “Fair, what are you doing in Princess Celestia’s wing? Wait. Why is Princess Celestia on my couch? Mahogany, what’s going on?”

Mahogany Glee still a bit shocked at seeing her son fall out of an air vent into the immortal sovereign of the sun’s wing responded, “I have no bucking idea.”

=====&&*&&=====

After that meeting time had seemingly flown by for the two young prodigies and their families. Before Mahogany, Swift, and Canvas could get their heads around their children’s amazing abilities it was already time for them to leave.

Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was normally operated like most any other fancy Canterlot school, plus an exceptionally rigorous magic curriculum. However, the section of the school the two young unicorns were going to, the Exceptionally Powerful-Youth Guidance and Direction, was specifically designed to house extraordinarily powerful unicorn children. The dangers involved in teaching a few dozen of the most powerful ponies in the world were not inconsiderable. Most of these students would do fine.

Some, however, would not. For every three dozen that followed the staff’s directions with little more than murmured protest, two or three decided to test their limits and would use their powers in decidedly immoral ways. History had taught Celestia many hard lessons, definitely not the least of which was the dangerous corrupting effect of great power, and she knew that an innocent child cloaking his or herself to satisfy their curiosity could lead to a master thief or assassin.

That is why the EP-YGaD program of CSGU was built directly into the castle grounds. Normally the professors could easily handle one or two untrained troublemakers, but if ever a few dozen of them banded together the only pony capable of reigning them in safely was Celestia. Not that she had ever needed to do that.

And that is precisely why she had decided to personally escort the two and tour them herself; she wanted some relaxed time to go over a code of morals with them. Nothing too concrete now mind you, kids were kids and the two were wont to go gallivanting about the school to satiate their curiosity. Stunting their playfulness would only serve to make them bitter and rebellious and that is exactly what the school was designed to avoid. There was certainly a code of conduct and certain rules were unbendable, but if students were not allowed to use their gifts to better themselves they would grow to resent society and, eventually, to hate it.

To Celestia, the days when incredibly powerful unicorns were either at the height of corrupt power or burned alive as dangerous and unholy by mobs of fearful ponies were brought vividly back to life every time she read fear fueled articles in the tabloids and editorials. That is why she took such a specific interest in the exceptionally gifted unicorns, they reminded her of herself when she was younger; so bright and full of life and excitement, but shunned by most the outside world. She never wished to see another bright young soul full of potential turned to darkness out of sheer necessity to survive.

But she was rambling. The two unicorns at her side had taken to alternatingly grooming eachother and playfully examining her tail. They obviously thought she didn’t notice them poking at her ethereal tail and she was content to leave them to their fun. They were all in one of her personal ground carriages, a magnificent vehicle of luxury. Made of only the strongest and most rare woods and covered top to bottom with silk and velvet and luxurious cloud stuffed pillows, the outside of the thing gleamed with gold and silver and seemed to radiate its own light.

Personally Celestia thought it rather garish, but it was given to her in a good friend’s will and she felt obligated to take it for a spin every now and again. The primary reason she had brought this one out of all her others was to gauge the two’s reaction to it.

They gave out a few “oohs” when they saw it and a few “aahs” when they sat on the pillows, but after about thirty seconds they had tired of staring at the interior and alternated between looking out the window and talking to eachother.

She found the two undeniably, overwhelmingly cute. And their friendship could only be stronger if they saved each other's life. She noticed that, though they definitely talked candidly enough in public, they had absolutely no secrets between them. They had almost a telepathic understanding and Celestia wondered briefly if they might actually communicate telepathically. She was both greatly relieved and somewhat disappointed when a quick spell revealed they didn’t.

She was rudely shocked from her scanning of the two when a sharp burn from her rear had her reflexively turn her head and apparently catch Fair Flame in the act of trying to take off a portion of her tail. Her tail simply let the thermal beam pass through it, her lower back, sadly, did not have that option.

Vinyl, who seemed to have been coaching him on, noticed first the newly charred fur on the Princess and noticed second the newly turned face and newly raised eyebrow of the Princess. She immediately started poking Fair in an attempt to rouse him from the stupor he had entered when he realized what he had done.

She poked him a couple times, “Hey Fair?”

He finally turned to her after she lightly clocked his snout, “Yeah Vinyl?”

“I think we’re in trouble.” She turned her head and pointed to the clearly unamused Princess.

He swallowed, “Yep.”

=====&&*&&=====

It wasn’t the pain, she had suffered far, far, far worse in her time.

It wasn’t the superficial damage, a quick spell and shower would fix that.

It was the kind of behaviour she was afraid of.

She completely understood why they had done what they did, probably more so than they did, but many a pony wouldn’t and some ponies might even press charges. And that is why she was about to go into a long spiel about proper conduct and boundaries, when something she really hadn’t been expecting happened. They were tripping all over themselves and talking, yelling really, over one another as one might expect, but they weren’t trying to place blame on the other; they were trying to avert the punishment from the other.

I mean, they were literally tripping over themselves trying to push the other down so they could take the blame. That’s when something happened in Celestia she hadn’t thought was possible, she felt true awe.

These two kids were standing together in defense of the other in front of the most powerful being in the world. If this had transpired in public most of the crowd would have probably run screaming from the scene in fear of her Almighty Reprisal, but not these two.

At first she tried to accredit it to their lack of understanding of her power, but their countenances betrayed them, they were scared near to death.

Her heart couldn’t take it.

She plunged onto both of them and wrapped them tightly in her wings whispering, “Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s fine, I forgive both of you.” She sat there hugging the two tightly into her and felt almost at peace for the first time in centuries.

Author's Note

A short one this time, but I felt the ending scene was pretty powerful and deserved to be an end.

I'm going to double-down on this and Of the Lost Prince, with some Friend from Beyond Eternity thrown in on the side. If that's okay with you, of course...

Questions, comments, concerns? Hit up the comment section below! Every comment and criticism is welcomed!

Chapter VI: Regal Processions and Her Majesty's School

Chapter VI: Regal Processions and Her Majesty's School

“So you’re not mad at us?” Vinyl mumbled through Celestia’s down.

“No, dear Vinyl, not at all. I just want you two to be more careful in the future, if you had done that to somepony else you might have really hurt them.” Her great wings opened just enough for the two foals to wiggle their way out of her, back into the welcoming embrace of the oxygen filled air.

“We didn’t hurt you?” Fair looked up at Celestia, clearly shaken.

“I’m just fine Fair Flame, but I think for the sake of my coat you probably shouldn’t try to help me resemble my namesake any more.” Though she meant it rather jokingly, Fair Flame hung his head shamefully.

“I’m sorry Princess.” Fair mumbled as Vinyl watched on.

“You two were just curious, I know how it goes, but I think I know something that you two would find a lot more fascinating than my tail.” She smiled as they both looked up at her.

“What’s that?” Vinyl asked as Fair sat looking at the Princess dejectedly.

“Just watch this,” and with that Celestia’s mane started shimmer and and ripple far stronger than its normal light breeze; twisting and falling into itself it resembled some incomprehensible ocean of light, it shone like star.

Both of the foals ooooooooooh’d in wonder at the dazzling spectacle of special spectral follicles. This went on for several minutes until Vinyl asked, “Can you do a puppet show with them?”

=====&&*&&=====

Silver Bells paced nervously across the porch of the welcoming entrance to the Exceptionally Powerful annex of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns or EP-CSGU, the most prestigious school of magic the known world over. Being an exceptionally gifted unicorn in her own right and an accomplished administrator of CSGU for over a decade she was use to handling high pressure and had seen many, many things. However, in all her years at the school, from her entrance exam up until the present day, she had never heard of Princess Celestia personally picking two students to sponsor to the school, and she had apparently only met the foals this very day! It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was something special, though it didn’t hurt to be one. The one royal guard assigned to this door stared impassively ahead, looking straight down the road, “The Princess’ carriage approaches Madam Bells.”

Silver Bells was shaken from her internal dialogue by the guard’s pronouncement and nearly tripped down the stairs. She straightened herself and walked down the some twenty steps to greet the Princess, and the new arrivals.

=====&&*&&=====

Sitting in the grandeur of one of the school’s reception rooms one could be forgiven for believing oneself to be sitting inside of the Castle proper, not merely a school located on Castle grounds.

The foal protagonists of our story would not need forgiveness, however, themselves being wholly absorbed in an animated discussion about why someone would build something as boring as a school next to a castle.

“...and so I recommended to the legal guardians that these two be placed under the care of the CSGU with my patronage. I have the guardians’ signed consent here Administrator Bells.” Celestia magicked over a small stack papers festooned with all manner of seals and heraldic glitz.

“I see Your Majesty, the school will be more than willing to accept these two under our tutelage. When would you like them to be scheduled for the entrance examination?” Silver Bells asked while organizing the many papers sat in front of her on the regal desk they all sat at.

“I believe three da-” Celestia began but was cut off.

“That’s a fancy word for test isn’t it?” Vinyl looked accusingly at Silver Bells while Fair continued talking to nopony for several seconds before he realized his friend was no longer responding to him.

“That would be an apt synonym Miss Scratch, but I am certain our simple entrance examination will prove no difficulty for you two.” Silver Bells reassured the foals with an understanding smile while Celestia looked toward the two foals expecting some further mischief.

Vinyl looked to Fair, confusion written all over her face, “That means yes Vinyl.” Fair answered her unvocalized question.

“Well she could have just said so, a test is no big deal.” Vinyl looked pleased with her question answered, and shortly her and Fair were talking animatedly once again.

The two adults smiled, bemused, at the pair.

Celestia and Silver spent the next hour going through paperwork and discussing the pair’s courses, living arrangements, and so forth. When the ebony grandfather clock with gold trim in the room rang eleven times Celestia decided that that was quite enough paperwork for one afternoon, “I believe we shall finish these documents upon the the morn Administrator.” She stood from her cushion and trotted over to the two foals who had fallen asleep nearly twenty minutes ago.

They had been gallivanting around the room up for some time, inspecting this and touching that as foals are wont to do, before Vinyl had declared that she was tired and Fair had yawned in agreement. Seeing as the adults were distracted they made off with several of the large cushions, some bigger than themselves!, and constructed a hasty pillow fort in a corner.

Guarded on all sides by their pillow palisades they had curled up together in the corner. Vinyl’s head rested on fair’s side and she had somehow started sucking on some of his hair, whenever she gave a particularly strong tug one of his hind legs would twitch and he would grumble some before cuddling into Vinyl. Feeling the well known and comforting warmth of his friend’s coat he would sigh contentedly until Vinyl sucked again and the process would repeat.

The Princess and Administrator watched on, smitten with the scene. After a few moments Celestia picked the whole impromptu bed up, occupants included, with her magic and motioned for Silver Bells to lead the way to the foals’ new quarters.

Vinyl’s sleep was slightly disturbed from this subtle change in altitude and she bit down forcefully on her companion’s hair, Fair twitched at this and his horn gave off a tiny spark. The spark floated slowly down from its birthplace and tumbled down its creator’s hair before falling onto Vinyl’s nose and making her face scrunch up in annoyance.

Chapter VII: Do Foals Dream of Cotton Candy Sheep?

Chapter VII: Do Foals Dream of Cotton Candy Sheep?

On a cloud suspended high above the world sat two unicorns foals. They sat next to each other at a small table upon which sat a thick book and a tea set. They looked suddenly toward each other and without a word between them began an intricate series of hoofshakes, hoofbumps, and horn sparrings. Once finished with their ritual they smiled happily at each other and turned their attention to the matters at hoof.

“What do you want today, Vinyl?”

“Hmmm...ooh! I know! Hot chocolate with marshmallows, the small ones, a pinch of cinnamon, a dash of mint, and an infusion of licorice. Hot, please.” Vinyl smiled at the thought of her order and eyed the ceramic kettle intensely.

“Coming right up!” Fair took the kettle in his magic and hit it with an intense beam of energy from his horn. The kettle flickered with an ethereal energy and radiated a dancing light reminiscent of a fiercely burning torch for a few moments, then it lost all traces of magic and began hissing steam. The warm and hearty aroma hit the two all at once and they sat together for quite some time simply enjoying the smell. Eventually, Fair’s tongue won the mental battle with his nose and he poured a cup of the thick liquid for himself and another for Vinyl.

Foregoing her horn entirely, Vinyl snatched her cup from its platter and gulped down half of the cup in one chug. She set her cup back onto her platter and sighed, satisfied.

Fair, conversely, steadily lifted both platter and cup to his snout with his magic and smoothly tipped the cup to his mouth while keeping the platter level, the scalding heat didn’t faze him either. “Shall we begin today’s business Miss Scratch?” He looked over to his friend.

“Indeed we shall Mister Flame,” she inclined her head toward the aforementioned book, “shall I do the honors?”

“But of course my honored friend.” Fair sipped at his hot chocolate again, the licorice infusion tasted better than he had predicted.

Vinyl Seized the book with her magic and drug it toward her, Fair leaned over her shoulder to see, still sipping his beverage.

Utilizing her magic once again she began flipping through the pages one at a time, after a few pages she picked up the pace, two pages in as many seconds, twice as many, five pages in a eye blink, ten in a heartbeat. Soon the book was a never ending churn of pages like sheets of rain in a storm. After three refills of Fair’s cup Vinyl stopped the book suddenly and confidently, “Finally!”

Fair raised an eyebrow at the text on page, “A poem? That’s a first.”

Vinyl nodded her consent and began reading,

“Down gilded halls of gold and sun
through days of youth and fun,
molded and tuned.

Past fountains of blueblood
and windows stained with valor’s mud,
Folded and packaged.”

Fair joined in the poem.

“Matron and patron
principles blazon
Darkness Hastens.”

The clouds darkened, lightning cracked.

“Foiled and fooled
fabled and tooled.
Cracked,
Broken,
Straightened.”

The storm continued to build, rain tumbling through the air like a river, hail like fish. The wind blowing clouds apart like a hammer.

“Tangents of stories
weave together
ashes into tapestries,
the embers of time."

Clouds of rain to clouds of ash, hail into brimstone, oppressing darkness to blinding light.

"Passages fade and
form
Stanzas disperse in
storm."

The words on the pages warp and flow like liquid light through canals made of prisms.

"Follow the golden
clad
hoof."

Over the storm beats the cadence of marching hooves, lighting strikes are approaching steps. Flowing ash is a breath on the cheek.

"For a time…”

“Time to arise my little ponies.”

The world stopped.

Clouds imploded into silhouettes of nothingness and ashes melted into themselves, the sulfur spontaneously combusted. The light that was once blinding became a soft nurturing glow and source of pleasant warmth. The tea set withered into shards that shattered into dust; the book melted into a sigh that was the murderous birth of Pandora’s box.

The cloud beneath our intrepid heroes was sheared away by the unseen and unfelt gale of time, and so they fell.

They fell smiling past memories new and old, ancient and yet to be, sharp and blurred. They swept whistling past the crooning of sirens. They fell deftly unto despair and savagely serenity. They sailed naked ever downward, toward the crowing of the cock.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and hay bakey.”

The mysteries of time and spac-

“Did somebody say hay bacon?” Vinyl aske- “I smell food, like, real food, fried food. I’m hungry. Come on Fair.”

Fair turned to her and replie-

“Okay.”

“Now how do we get out of here again?”

The fabric of this world’s reality bent and split before h-

“Woah, that’s cool.”

And the tremulous embrace of wakefulness took vigil over their so-

“Hearing the narration is my least favorite part of this place, Vinyl.”

“Are we awake yet? I want food.”

I give up. Dreams are a nightmare to nar-

“WE WOKE UP ALRIGHT!?”

“WE WOKE UP ALRIGHT!?”

...no need to yell.

Author's Note

This chapter is pretty short I know, but I couldn't find any way to add to it without detracting from the whole point of the chapter, and it wouldn't fit right as a part of another, but I don't anticipate any more chapters this short in the future.