The Painter’s brush whispered across the pane of glass, the only sound in the darkness. The only light in the room was a dim, flickering bulb located right above him and his work. Gently, carefully, he drew another stroke across the smooth material, followed by another, then another. Each stroke as perfect as the last, each brush blending in perfectly with the color around it. It had to be perfect, for if it wasn’t then the magic it held would be lost.

Slowly dipping his brush back into the paint, he sighed softly. Pulling it gently out of the colorful substance, he wiped the excess off the brush then returned to the glass. The hairs of the brush gently caressed the unique canvas, leaving behind a steady trail of color. He sighed again, a small smile barely touching his otherwise expressionless face, but it quickly vanished. There was still much to do.

Every since he was a little foal he had loved to paint. He would spend hours painting with anything and everything he could get his hooves on. His parents had decorated every inch of his room with his paintings, even hanging many of them around the house. He painted with brushes, his hooves, his tail, his magic, and even going as far as to paint with his whole body. It had shocked no one when his cutie mark had been two crossed paint brushes. What did surprise everypony was what they were crossed in front of. A giant eye, swirling with colors that seemed to pull you into the very depths of its pupil. It seemed to stare into your very soul as it gazed out at the world from behind the two paint brushes. And with his bizarre cutie mark, came his bizarre talent.

He had an ability like no other painter before him. Even as a young colt, many could tell he was different. Even in the small village he grew up in, everypony know who he was by his paintings, for they were unique in the most magical of ways. His paintings seemed to come to life, seemed to move on their own and trick the mind and senses. Even stranger, however, was the fact that each painting seemed to foretell a future event. No one could understand it, nor did they truly want to. He either could predict the future, or the future would change for him.

This ability would follow with him throughout his adolescence, although he would never brag nor boast of his ability. It would have done little good, as he had little control over what he painted. The ability to paint the future came in spurts, almost in episodes like a seizure. He would enter an almost trance like state and when he awoke the painting would be complete, yet he would have no recollection of painting it.

It hadn’t been until that fateful day, many years ago, that he had been able to put his ability to good use. He had just recently moved out of his parent’s house and was on his own in the world. He had been visiting Canterlot to get more art supplies from one of his favorite vendors; one that sold their supplies cheap and affordable. He had just payed for the supplies and was making his way through the main market place when he had been hit by one of his episodes.

When he had awoken from his trance, he had discovered that he had painted an entire mural on the side of one of the stores. It had been one of the more detailed paintings he had ever done. It had depicted Princess Celestia staring up at mighty ivory and gold tower. Out of the top of the tower emerged the head of a mighty purple dragon, green spines running down it’s back. Purple lightning seemed to flow around the painting, frozen in time by the brush strokes of The Painter. The shop’s owner wasn’t happy about what he had done to the side of her shop. As he apologized profusely a shadow had fallen over him. Looking back behind him, he eyes beheld Princess Celestia herself gazing upon his mural.

After taking in the painting, the Princess smiled down upon The Painter, complimenting him on his talent for painting. She had her bodyguards pay the shop owner for the damages, and then departed, leaving The Painter and his work behind. He had to return to the art vendor in order to replenish the supplies he just used, and then had headed back to his home. The rest of the day proved to be uneventful.

One week later The Painter was awoke by the sounds of a pony hammering on his door. Opening it, he was confronted with several of the Royal Guard who informed him that Princess Celestia had requested his presence at once, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. As he was being rushed through the streets of Canterlot, the only thing he could imagine was that he had somehow insulted the princess with his painting of her. As they neared the palace, his fear increased. She would probably banish him! A silly little unicorn who thought he could paint the princess whenever he wanted! That’s not how it works! As the doors to the throne room were flung open and he saw the princess he realized something: his fears were groundless.

The princess smiled down upon him with all the warmth of a summer sun, the light dancing in her beautiful eyes. She had asked her guards to exit the throne room, leaving the pair of them alone. When they were by themselves, he found himself standing in a rather uncomfortable silence. Finally the princess spoke, the smile never leaving her face. She asked him of his life, his family and his childhood, but most specifically his paintings. He had tried to hid the truth of his talent, but somehow she was able to see through his ruse. She continued to gently push the subject, till finally he gave in and told her the whole truth. Her eyes shone with wonder as he explained of his episodes and their results.

The princess explained to him that she had thought his painting that day in the marketplace as merely one of creative expression, until that is the scene painted on the side of the building had come true. Yesterday, a young unicorn filly had managed to hatch a dragon egg for her entrance exam, but didn’t have full control over her powers. The dragon had grown exponentially until his head had burst forth from the top of the tower. She had gazed upon the dragon’s head, and had realized the The Painter had depicted this exact moment in his painting several days before. She had taken care of the filly and the dragon, and then had sent for the Painter to come to the palace.

She explained the reason she had called for him. She had need of his talents, and would have him paint for her. She would pay him generously for his services. The Painter hoped desperately that the princess couldn’t see the blush hidden underneath his gray coat. He declined, stating that he couldn’t transit from his home the palace each day. The princess had offered for him to live in the palace, offering him a luxurious penthouse as well as paying for all materials and supplies he would need, as well as food, clothing and other comforts as well. He had relented, but felt the need to tell her that he had no control over when he would have the episodes, and wouldn’t remember the painting process.

The princess informed him that she didn’t know of any spell that would give him complete control over his powers, but she did possess a spell that would allow him to retain his memory, as well as allow him to be completely aware of the world around him when painting. He had returned to his home to gather his belongings, and had been moved into the palace before the day’s end.

It was hard for him to adjust to life in the palace. It was a huge building, with many maze-like hallways woven throughout the grand building. It wasn’t just the new living quarters either, it was also the other ponies living there. They all seemed to look down their noses at him. He was just some no-name artist plucked off the streets for the fancy of the princess, nothing more. He stood out amongst the nobles; his messy black mane, and gray coat stained in different places by paint clashing against the whites and golds of the upper class. It didn’t help that his painting episodes would hit at random times, causing him to drop everything in order to paint. At Princess Celestia’s request he had taken to carrying art supplies around with him just in case an episode struck. This lead to several walls throughout the palace being laid under siege from his brush. The cleaning staff wasn’t happy, although they learned to tolerate it as Princess Celestia herself seemed to praise The Painter. Whenever he desecrated a wall with a new mural, she would always take time out of her day to come examine it. More often than not she would have a little lavender unicorn filly with her, the young thing staring at The Painter with large, curious eyes as the princess examined his work. They never once talked, the student or the painter, but they seemed to develop a strange understanding for one another.

The years came and went, and he watched as the little filly grew up into a beautiful young mare, so full of life and intelligence. They never talked with each other, except for the occasional ‘hello’ when passing in the halls. She tended to stay within her study or the library; he stayed in the dark, windowless room he had come to love working in. It was quiet, calming and let him escape from the dark looks of the nobles whenever the urge to paint took over him. The paintings were far and few between, and never held any real significance, but the princess still treasured each highly.

It had been a bright, sunny day when he had finally managed to earn his pay. He had been passing through the throne room during the princess’s Day Court when an episode had hit. It was unlike any episode he had had before, the intensity causing his very soul to cry out. Trapped in the grip of his talent, he was forced to watch as he proceed to smash one of the many large windows adorning the walls of the throne room. He watched as he proceed to paint each piece of glass with careful delicacy, aware of the eyes of many ponies boring into him. He watched as he slowly assembled each piece of colored glass together into a giant puzzle. When he finished, he gazed down upon his creation that lay upon the floor.

There, painted upon the glass, was the image of a large black alicorn, her bat-like wings flung wide open behind her. Her eyes, so much like those of a dragon, seemed to gaze out at him with an intense hatred. Below her stood six ponies: two earth ponies, two unicorns, and two pegasi. A beam of magic seemed to flow from each of the six ponies upwards towards the dark alicorn, encasing her in a sphere of magic. The Painter couldn’t make heads or tails of his painting, but as he turned his gaze behind him at Princess Celestia and the many ponies of the Day Court, he could tell that the scene before him meant something to her.

As she stared down at the stained glass, a puff of green flame erupted by her head, depositing a scroll in front of her. Tearing her eyes from The Painter’s recent work, she read the letter, a smile touching her face before she began to write a reply. The Painter could only pick up several words as she muttered the letter to herself. Something about ‘dusty old books’ and ‘making friends’. She finished the letter, sealed it and sent it on its way with a burst of magic before turning back to The Painter. She smiled down upon him, and he could have sworn, for just a moment, that a tear of happiness seemed to fall from her eye as she gazed once more upon the black alicorn.

It had been several months before another episode would strike. This time, at least, there was nopony in the throne room when he shattered another window. Three windows, in fact. He had worked hard and fast, painting the glass with many colors. The scenes before him told an interesting story: two alicorns circling a strange creature that looked like it was made up of several different animals combined together, the strange creature hovering over three ponies, seeming to control them like marionettes, and finally a scene that depicted the six ponies from the first incident launching a blast of rainbow light at the creature as it looked on in horror. Princess Celestia had been summoned immediately. As the glass artwork was hung back in the window frames, the princess hurried off, already writing a letter. Outside, strange pink clouds seemed to float lazily in the wind.

The episodes continued, and it always seemed to be the throne room’s windows that suffered for The Painter’s work. More scenes were made as time went on. One depicting two ponies, a white unicorn and pink alicorn, driving off a group of strange black ponies with intense pink magic. This one had confused Princess Celestia, but she had had much on her mind at the time considering that she was planning a wedding.

Another piece had depicted a black, demonic unicorn laughing down at a purple unicorn as she fell into a pit of black crystals. Beside it was one showing a purple dragon bathed in a magnificent light as above him glowed a heart made of crystal. A pink alicorn floated near the top, a happy smile on her face as four ponies made of crystal danced around her. He had finished both of these pieces right before a guard had burst into the throne room and informed the princess that ‘it has returned’.

Each of his pieces seemed to have brought trouble with it, but each time the princess had thanked him for his services. He found it odd, really, that she would thank him and even went as far as to keep each stained glass picture in the window frame that had once housed its original. It was odd, but somehow flattering. The princess had carried enough about his work to keep is as a reminder, and that was good enough for him.

His hoof froze as the brush hovered over the final piece of glass, the paint slowly begin to dry as The Painter gazed across his finish work. Everything he painted had always come true, and this time would be no exception. He slowly placed his used brush into a glass of dirty water, never taking his eyes off of the piece before him. The glass was already placed in a frame, each individual piece nestled snugly against its brothers and sisters. He simply need to wait for the paint to dry before he took it up to the throne room, to its final resting place. Soon enough, it would join its ancestors. Then it would be up to the princess to interpret what it meant.

The stained glass window was heavy as he carried it on his back, balancing it with his magic. His hooves clicked loudly against the marble floor as he slowly made his way throughout the labyrinth of a palace he had learn to call home.

He slowly approached the doors to the throne room, his burden slowing him down considerably. As he neared the doors, the guards on either side pushed the large golden doors open, allowing him passage. He smiled weakly at them, silently thanking them.

He entered the throne room and slowly made his way to the awaiting hole in the wall that would house his masterpiece. As he walked, he passed by his other creations, each one still in as perfect condition as the day he first made them. He neared the end of the room, approaching the throne and the white alicorn that sat upon it, currently lost deep within the contents of a long scroll. As he neared, the princess glanced up, locking eyes with him. He gazed into her light grayish magenta eyes as she gazed back into his light maroon ones. She smiled and nodded once in his direction. He returned the gesture, and continued to make his way to his intended destination.

Arriving at the window frame, The Painter proceeded to lift the stained glass artwork into its new, and permanent, home. Making sure it was secure, he stepped back and gazed up at it one last time. He heard the sound of hooves behind him as the princess approached to view his work. They stood side by side, the majestic white goddess next to the disheveled gray unicorn. They spoke no words, the princess simply staring up at the piece of art before her, processing what she saw in silence.

Slowly The Painter turned and began to make his way back out of the throne room, leaving the princess to her thoughts. As he approached the doors, they swung open and in walked six ponies. The seven ponies all stopped, staring at one another in silence. One of the ponies, a cerulean pegasus mare with a rainbow mane, hovered in the air, eyeing him with a bored expression. Below her, an orange earth pony with a Stanton hat and a white unicorn with a curly, indigo mane eyed him curiously while a yellow pegasus with a pink mane hid behind them. A pink earth pony with poofy dark pink hair stared at him with the largest smile he had ever seen. He smiled, though, when he gazed upon the sixth member of their group: the mare he had watched grow up from a little, excited filly.

She gazed back at him, her violet eyes staring into his. She smiled warmly at him, shifting her wings into a more comfortable position along her sides. The Painter smiles back, inclining his head slightly at the young mare, her friends staring at the pair of them in confusion. The Painter and the alicorn didn’t exchange any words. They didn’t have to. They already knew what the other one was here for. After all, he had watched her and her friends from the confines of his art, and she knew it.

Still smiling, The Painter proceed to make his way through the group of mares, who parted to let him pass. He proceed to move out of the throne room, the guards closing the door behind him. He proceed to make his way down the hall, silently wishing the six mares the best of luck.

Everything he painted had always come true, and this time would be no exception...