"C'mon, tell me, what'd the princesses do?" Button Mash demanded.

"Not much, actually.." I said.

 

---

 

"You're quitting?" Luna said, astonished.

I looked her in the eye. "....EeYup," I said. I turned and started walking from the room. An indigo wing blocked my path.

"And where dost thou intend to go, Arcturus?" Luna said.

"Elsewhere," I said testily. I brushed her wing aside and headed for the door.

"Halt, Arcturus. We have not given thee leave to depart our presence," Luna said. I kept walking. She stamped her hoof. "We gave thee an order!"

I unbarred the door. "Really? You want hay fries with that?" I said over my shoulder. I pulled the door open only to have the handle yanked out of my hand by a golden glow. The door closed. This was getting irritating.

"You can at least show the proper deference to your Princesses," Celestia said sternly.

"I am," I said, grinding my teeth. "I'm leaving before I say what I actually think."

"According to our laws, you are a citizen of Equestria."

"According to your laws I'm also a Draconequus with a Hydra milking farm in Foggy Bottom Bog," I said drolly. "Both errors can be corrected."

With that little bon mot I marched out. Or I tried to. Celestia magically slammed the door again. No, wait, the aura was moonlight blue this time. This was getting tiresome. "You are a technically a strategic resource, Arcturus," Luna said. "We have the authority to have you locked up in the Mirror Laboratory under armed guard if we so wish!"

I didn't look back. "And will you exercise that authority, Your Highnesses?" I said, keeping my voice level.

Neither one spoke. Finally, the door handle glowed with a golden aura and the door swung open. I stepped through and left.

 

 

---

 

"Gosh." The little colt was flabbergasted that I would speak to the Perfectly Perfect Princess that way. "Wh... Where did you go?"

I shrugged. "Where else could I go?..."

 

---

 

I was sitting on a small island in the middle of the bog, skipping rocks on the water, when she found me. Celestia floated down and alighted on the grass next to me as gently as a dove. We stood there in awkward silence. Mostly my awkwardness.  "So here you are," she said mildly. "I couldn't believe the report when I heard it. You actually moved out to Foggy Bottom Bog?"

"Well, not so much 'moved out' as 'ran away to," I said sarcastically. I chunked another stone across the water.

She watched it skip across the water. She waited till it skipped its last and sank before speaking. "So why did you come out here?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I considered the Everfree," I said. "After all, the weather's more like I'm used to from Earth there, and nature acts more like, well, nature. But between parasprites, Ursa Majors, cockatrices, manticores and God knows what else out there, I wasn't quite sure about my survival chances. Foggy Bottom Bog, it's a bit muckier but it's apparently safe enough that Fluttershy came out here."

"And found it was full of Hydras," Celestia pointed out.

I held up a finger. "Correction: ONE Hydra. The big galoot is territorial, which means he keeps the other Hydras away. Along with most other large and dangerous critters."

"So you intend to keep the hydras away-- by living with a hydra in your back yard," she said with some amusement. "The flaw in your logic seems self evident."

By way of reply I picked up my cane and pointed it at a nearby tree. I thumbed a hidden stud in the handle; a small but brilliant lightning bolt leapt out of the end of the cane and danced up the trunk with a shriek like an angry tesla coil before fizzling out. Sparks and bits of smoldering bark rained down. "My 'monster be good' stick," I said. "I told Twilight about tasers a while back; she came up with a significant improvement on the idea. Old Chuckles didn't care to much for it when I tickled his belly with it. He steers clear of me now. Ain't that right fella?" I yelled in the direction of a large scaly hump in the water that had been meandering in our general direction. At the sound of my voice it halted, turned about, and began moving away at considerable speed.

"Besides," I continued in a more conversational tone, "I own a chunk of land out here. A hundred acres of prime waterfront property. Only a little less 'front' and a little more 'water' than most settlers generally prefer. I bought it half as a joke, half to rationalize those silly citizenship papers." I jerked a thumb towards the ramshackle log and driftwood shack standing in the middle of the island. "even got a roof over my head here."

"That wasn't what I meant when I asked why you came out here," she said gently.

I puffed out my cheeks and sat down on a nearby rock, not looking at her. "Because I was angry," I confessed. "No, because I was getting irrationally angry. At you. I had to get away. Go someplace where I wasn't looking at anything that reminded me of you, or of your throne or your kingdom, so I could sit down and figure out what was setting me off so badly. Before I did anything, well, anything more that I would regret."

She folded her wings and lay down on the grass. "And?" she said simply.

I sighed again and recited the phrase that seemed to sum up.

"I'm smart and you're dumb, I'm big and you're little, I'm right and you're wrong, and there's nothing you can do about it."

At her puzzled look-- I reflected with amusement that I was probably one of the few creatures alive that could elicit that expression from the millennia old alicorn-- I explained. "It's a line from a children's book called 'Matilda,' by Roald Dahl," I said. "It's a story about a smart and clever and good-hearted little girl with terrible parents and a horrible cruel teacher named Ms. Trunchbull. They say that to her, over and over, throughout the whole story. They are bad and terrible people and they love reminding her that she can do nothing about it."

"So how does that change?" Celestia asked.

I smiled. "She gets magic powers and punishes them for being naughty."

"So what does this have to do with you and your-- irrational anger?" Celestia said.

I rested my elbow on my knee and my chin on my fist and looked at her. "It's been a while since you were a foal, hasn't it?"

"Quite a bit," she said, both amused and miffed.

"Well you might not remember what it was like-- but deep down, every child thinks they're Matilda," I said. "Every adult is this bullying, pushy giant who tells you what to do, doesn't let you do what you want and says nothing but 'NO!' They're always right, you're always wrong, and there's nothing you can do about it because they're bigger than you.  Good parents make up for that by listening to their kids and loving them and yes, admitting sometimes that they were wrong. And with luck the kid gets past seeing every reprimand as the act of a tyrant, and becomes an adult.

"But if the parents are screwups-- if they spend more time yelling than talking, answer everything with 'because I said so,' treat their kids like dummies or morons or disparage them all the time---or maybe if something just doesn't go right with the kid while they're being raised.... the kid doesn't get past it. And if you don't get past it, you never grow up.

"You spend the rest of your life seeing any authority figure as Ms. Trunchbull. And your pride and your rebelliousness won't let it go.

"It's why I swore to stay away from anything to do with the military," I said. "I knew that the whole Drill Sergeant routine is for the good of the soldiers. That the yelling and the abuse is the guy trying to hammer training into their heads that will save their lives. I knew that here." I tapped my head. "But down here," I patted my gut, "All I could see was a hateful bully and sadist tormenting people who couldn't fight back. I had a fear, a genuine, terrible fear that I would end up like that poor fat slob on "Full Metal Jacket..." flipping out and killing my Drill Sergeant. Or just ending up a mewling, puking failure, completely shamed to the point I killed myself---" I realized I was maundering off subject and stopped myself. "I'm meandering," I said. "I-- My apologies. The point is..."

"And this is how you see me?" The solar diarch said, visibly hurt and appalled. "As a.. Ms. Trunchbull?"

"Not really," I said drolly. "Not unless you've recently flung your student out a classroom window."

She actually reared her head back, arching her neck and staring at me in shock. "Your world has some truly horrible foal's tales," she said.

"Like the one about the princess who flies around on Nightmare Night gobbling up little children?" I couldn't resist the chance to riposte.

Her eyebrows tabled. "Touche'," she muttered. ( I had chewed her ear a bit about that one. Thank God Luna managed to get a sense of humor about it on her own. Thank God for Pipsqueak.)

"No, I do not think you're like Ms. Trunchbull," I said, getting back on track. "But I do think you're behaving like a bad mother."

"A bad mother?"

"A bad mother. The stereotypical overbearing matriarch. There's a line I once read in a book by another favorite author of mine, Alan Dean Foster," I said. "'The surest way to get someone to act like a child is to treat them like one." I got to my feet. "And you treat everyone like they're children." I started to pace back and forth. "Me. Your counselors. Your soldiers. Your nobility. Your student....

"Your SISTER." I paced back and forth as I rambled. "Why do you think you have so many problems with her? You're both immortal, you've both lived countless centuries, and yet you still treat her like a lesser. Like your 'baby' sister. The castle you live in is not her home, it's YOURS. The kingdom? YOURS, and don't fool yourself; It's not a Diarchy, it's a monarchy with a spare. You're still her guardian, still her keeper. And she knows it. She knows she's the lesser, she knows she's flat out unnecessary. You proved that by raising her moon without her, running the country without her, for a thousand years. Why do you think she acts so stiff and formal and archaic all the time in public? She does it because she's trying to look older and more mature. Thousands of years old, and she'll forever be 'the kid sister!'

"And your subjects... all of them. 'My Little Ponies,'" I snorted. "Do you realize how condescending that sounds? For all you have a Parliament, they are still largely window dressing. You still wield most of the power in your government, you still run the country-- a country they are perfectly capable of running themselves.

"This is nothing compared to what you do with ponies you take a personal interest in. You go from benevolent vague mother figure to a meddling battleaxe --- the kind of mother who tries to micromanage their children's lives long after they've left the home and struck out on their own. Look at what you do to Twilight! Fiddling with her life from behind the scenes. Plotting out her life for her, and calling it her destiny..."

"I'm trying to prepare her to be a princess," Celestia reminded me.

"The last thing this country needs, the last thing this world needs, is another all-powerful princess!" I said, my irritation rising. I stopped for a moment, consciously willing it away. "Tell me Princess; in all your plotting and planning, in all your preparing Twilight to become an alicorn and become a princess, did you ever bother to ask if that was what she wanted?"

She stared at me for a moment then looked away. "No, I didn't," she admitted, with the air of someone realizing a mistake they'd made. "But... why would she not?"

"Alicorn? Sure. I can see her going for that," I admitted. "Eternal youth, the power of flight, a tenfold jump in magical power--- not exactly a tough sell. But Princess?

"Think about it, Celestia; what does your most faithful student live for, outside of your momentary approval that is?"

"To study," Celestia said.

"To learn," I said. "To do research. Conduct experiments. Bury herself in  books and read her way out.  Now tell me this, Celestia; How much of any of those things do you think she's going to have time for if she's sitting on a throne?  How many magical breakthroughs do you think she'll be able to squeeze in between the formal dinners and Royal duties and sitting in the Court of Day and the Court of Night?

" She lives for her friends too....Being with them, helping them, going on adventures with them. What's going to happen to her friendships now that she's a ruler and they're her subjects? And think beyond that... what's going to happen to the Elements of Harmony when her duties and her authority over them, when the disparity between them finally make them drift apart? Everything wrong with making her a princess is summed up in this one image:Twilight Sparkle, the alicorn of Friendship, with all her friends around her, bowing to her. It is the very antithesis of what makes Friendship work, and it will eventually destroy hers!"

I was getting fully worked up now. "You decided on this course for her, without her permission, without her input, without even considering who she is and what she might want, pushing and manipulating her from offstage-- yes, like a bad mother. Like some horrible old string-pulling matriarch in a bad comedy play." I was in full flight now, storming back and forth like a panther in a cage, my knuckles going white where I clenched my cane in my fist. "How much of her life is going to be destroyed because Mommy and Daddy Know Best---"

I bit the sentence off. I stood still, my back turned to the ruler of Equestria, standing on the edge of an abyss only I could see. "And so we come full circle," I said as calmly as I could, taking that metaphorical step back from the edge. "This is why I had to leave. Because...I cannot see past my own immaturity anymore.

"You know what set me off? That smile of yours. That damned, ever-serene, patronizing smile." I ran my hand down my face. "That's when I knew why I was so angry."

"I can't see you as anything but a-- parental figure. An all-powerful, all-controlling, Mother Figure who even at her best only smothers her children, keeping them from growing. And that angry, immature little boy under all this hair and fat only knows how to seethe in rage at her."

I turned to face her again. She was regarding me with a quizzical look, her head tilted to one side. "It wasn't about me, was it," she said. "It was about your parents."

I ran my hands down my face again, wiping the sweat off, trying to clear my head. "No, Celestia. My parents were good people--"

"I didn't say they weren't good parents," Celestia said. "But you obviously have unresolved issues with them."

"Obviously?"

"You used the phrase 'Mommy and Daddy Know Best.' Not 'Mommy.' 'Mommy AND Daddy.' You constantly refer to yourself as a 'man-child.' As being an 'immature little boy.' Your complaints were a constant litany of metaphors for childhood and parenthood. I'm not omniscient but I'm certainly not slow." She shifted in place, putting her forehooves back. "I want to know what parts of your past, your little mentioned past, are holding you hostage like this. Tell me about them."

I grinned humorlessly. "Zho, you vant to know all about my Id ven I vas a kid, ya?"

It took her a moment to get the joke.  "Oh, that Freud fellow from your world. The one with the obsession with cigars."She rolled her eyes. "Well I'm no psychiatrist, but I doubt they have learned anything that I haven't dealt with in multiple millennia."

"That confident of your counseling abilities, are you?" I challenged.

Celestia actually snorted. "Don't tell them, but what they call 'psychiatry' looks a lot like what we ancient types used to call 'listening.' " She tossed her head. "So... tell me."

I sighed and sat back down on my rock. " Don't leap to the wrong conclusion so quickly, Celestia," I said. "My parents were good people. Honest, God-fearing, faithful. But like anyone else they had problems and they made mistakes. More than some, fewer than most. But overall, they were good parents. Way above average."

"But?" she prompted.

I tried to say "But nothing," but couldn't. "...But somewhere along the way, something went wrong," I said. "I... failed to launch."

I tried to explain. "In my culture, it's expected that a young man will grow up, go to college, get a degree, and then set out in life. It's pretty much the same here in Equestria so far as I can see. But... when time came for me to do the same, I just wasn't ready.

"My parents were overprotective of me. They were from a very insular Christian tradition, and regarded the entire world outside the Church the way you ponies regard the Everfree Forest... if you filled it with Changelings and broken glass and then set it on fire. They vetted everything I did; the books I read, the music I listened to, the games I played, the way I spent every hour and every minute of every day, for fear of me being 'corrupted.' And disagreement was NOT TO BE TOLERATED.

"By the time I was in my majority, I was an utter man-child. I'd never held a job. Never learned to balance a checkbook. Never dated. Never gone to a school dance. Never socialized with my peers. They tried to protect me from the world but they ended up putting me in a cocoon. Hell, I was eighteen and still couldn't walk down the street to the corner store without Mommy's permission." I snorted. "And I barely knew how to wipe my own bum. What little responsibility they did give me, I didn't know how to handle. My middle name growing up was "Sorry Good-For-Nothin'," to go by what my Dad called me." I snorted again.

Celestia looked up. "He called you that?" she said, shocked.

"Frequently. He was strict. He... had a temper. He yelled a lot. He didn't punish us often... but when he did, it left welts."  She looked stunned.

"He mellowed in his later years," I insisted. Who was I trying to convince; me or her? "And here and now, it sounds far worse than it actually was. Such incidences were few and far between..."

"Were you afraid of him?" Celestia said quietly.

I ground the word out. "Yes."

"Seems it happened often enough, then," she said. Her voice was gentle but her eyes were stony.

"Growing up, he had it far worse than I did," I said. "His father-- my grandfather-- was an alcoholic..."

"And what what his excuse?" She demanded to know. "This holy man who was your father?"

"Celestia..."

"Well?"

I gritted my teeth, then let out my breath in a huff. "I never said he didn't make mistakes, did I?" I said. "And this isn't about him, it's about me. There are people who went through far worse than the rare whipping or hurtful word, and they managed to grow up and become successful, self-sufficient, responsible adults."

"As you said; this isn't about them, it's about you," Celestia said.

I ignored that. "I frustrated him, I suppose. He was one of those self-made men. His own father was uninvolved with him; he had to go out and teach himself how to do everything. He taught himself how to repair an automobile, how to do carpentry, how to repair wiring and plumbing. As a kid he built his own treehouses and go-karts and repaired his own bicycle... when he was twelve he could walk up into the hills with a pocketknife, peel a birch sapling, and whittle out a complete bow and arrow set. Twine and all. Me? I was more a 'can you please start the orange peel for me' kind of kid." I gave a humorless laugh. "I think he was baffled that he had a son who couldn't seem to self-start on anything. And the few things I could do with skill, he had no use for and didn't understand."

I thought it over. "I suppose that if they made any real error with me, it was a sin of omission, rather than comission. They taught me-- strictly--- what to never ever do... but they never really made an effort to teach me what I SHOULD do, or how to do it. And what I could do, they never left me alone to try. Sometimes I think I might have been better off if they'd been completely neglectful. At the least I would have learned how to take a few lumps.

"Then, I was off to college. And I wasn't ready. I didn't know how to be an adult. I ended up kicked off the work scholarship program and sent home. And I failed to pay off that year's bill so I could return....

"From there on out my life consisted of me sliding from disaster to disaster, making idiotic decisions, failing calamitously,  learning lessons about being an adult one day AFTER I needed to know it. I screwed myself up, massively.

"I was in my thirties before I finally managed to get out, get a job, get away, get a place of my own... But even then, I was on a downhill slide. The job gave less and less hours. The economy tanked. The bills piled up. The debts grew. And any opportunity I was given, I shot myself in the foot. I was still an idiot child living in an adult's body, incapable of being an adult.

"And then one day when I'm walking back from lunch.. a lunch I bought with pocket change from my sofa... to my job as the lowest form of unskilled expendable labor in the western hemisphere-- a charity telemarketer--where I worked maybe one day a week, while I wait  for the tax collector and the bill collector and my filthy trailer and my broken-down vehicle and my broken-down body to decide who gets to devour me first--- a magic portal sucks me into the Land of Equestria.

"And so here I am," I concluded. "Forty-plus years old, and the only reason I can even survive is because I'm in a fluffy, sparkly magical candyland where the local All Powerful Mother Figure keeps me as a pet." Some noxious aroma from the bog wafted over, making my eyes water. I wiped them on my sleeve. I stood up and walked away, standing on the shore of my little island and looking out over the water. "And then I find myself in a position way above my class and stature. By sheer dumb luck I had fallen upstairs into a... let's call it what it is, a cushy job with an outrageous pay and ridiculous benefits. And then I find myself behaving just as immaturely and foolishly as ever-- yelling like a spoiled arrogant brat at a thousand year old ruler of a kingdom because she did something I disagreed with. That is why I left. Why I HAD to leave."

"Because you were embarrassed," Celestia said.

"Because I was rightfully ASHAMED," I said. "Because I realized was a CHILD and a FAILURE and a FOOL. And a royal leader needs a counselor and advisor, not an over grown man-child." I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon. "No fool can give good counsel to a Princess."

I heard her step closer. She stood next to me, just visible out of the corner of my eye. "You would be surprised at how many rulers treasure the counsel of their Fool," she said. I could hear the capital letter. She gave me that damned smile of hers. "You are a better advisor than you think, Arcturus. You speak honestly, truthfully, and with conviction. You are thoughtful and insightful. Even in your petty rant, you told me truths that I had not considered or were unwilling to. You spoke from the heart... Even if it was at the top of your lungs." Her smile dimpled. It was much nicer that way.

I looked at her. "...Do you-- can you forgive me for speaking to you in such a manner?" I said, my head down. Shame crawled over me.

"Of course," she said.  "And this is why I treasure your counsel, Arthur. You don't ask forgiveness out of fear, but out of genuine contrition. You speak to me not as if I were a ruler or some alabaster goddess, but as a pony." She sighed. "You have no idea how rare that is."

"Don't think too much on it," I said, the corner of my mouth quirking up. "Remember my origins. It's not because I'm wise, it's because to me you're still a giant cartoon pony that reads the moral of the story at the end of each episode."

Celestia laughed. "You give yourself too little credit as a man as well, Arcturus. We are all growing up, and we don't get it right all at once. My sister and I have been at it for millennia, and we still have our childish moments." Her smile diminished a bit. "For one thing, I will be looking more closely at my dear sister's situation. I had not, in truth, considered that she might be... smothering under my wing."

"My advice on that? Give her a place of her own," I said. "Her own castle, her own Court, her own place out from under your shadow. Maybe let her rebuilt the old castle in the Everfree. Or pick another location entirely, maybe directly opposite Canterlot, on the other side of Equestria, for symbolism? Wherever, so long as it's hers. One true thing my father told me: 'You don't start growing up and being yourself until you're out on your own.' " My thoughts soured a bit. "Strange how so many of his ideas for 'helping' me involved me moving back in with him and Mother."

"Hm. I will take it under advisement," she said.

I sighed. "So what are your intentions about Twilight?" I asked.

Celestia sighed as well. "The same as before," she said. "Now that she has passed the test-- you saw the aurora, I assume..."

"So that's what that was," I said. "I wondered if Rainbow Dash had perfected some new trick for a moment. How did it go down?"

"I'll go into detail on that later," Celestia said. "Or let you hear it from her, personally. Either way, I will be sending her Starswirl's unfinished spell.. and giving her the chance to ascend."

I regarded her with a gimlet eye. " And will you be telling her that's what it is she's doing?" I asked her.

Celestia looked away. "....No," she finally said. To my surprise her serenity had cracked; she actually sounded upset.

"And why not?" I demanded. "Doesn't she deserve to know the truth? To make the choice for herself?"

"It's not that simple!" Celestia burst out. She got to her feet, looking away from me. "She... she might panic if she knows what the consequences are..."

"You mean she might say no," I said, angry and disappointed.

"You don't understand!" Celestia cried out tearfully, stamping her hoof. That outburst of emotion startled me more than anything I could name.

"Then enlighten me!" I said. "After all this, and you're still going to play at pulling strings--"

"DAMMIT, Arthur!" I fell silent in surprise. She turned away from me, hanging her head-- then turned back around and stepped forward, till her face was inches from mine. The words tumbled out of her, urgently, desperately trying to persuade me. "Twilight is literally a one in a million pony. She is one of the few unicorns I have ever found in my entire lifetime who even have a chance of ascending to alicornhood.  Twilight is right on the threshold, literally on the brink; she has been since the day she was BORN. If I do not give her that last little push, she will not ascend and it may be another thousand, another TEN thousand years before I find another like her or even close to it. And her lifespan is so short-- she is at the peak of her youthful vigor RIGHT NOW... if I wait, if I wait for her to decide on her own it could be too late, and she could be gone in an eyeblink--

"Dammit, Arthur, I'm not going to lose her!" She burst out. Tears, sweet heaven, actual genuine tears started down her cheeks. She composed herself, but the tears still flowed.  "My little ponies... they die so young, they're gone so fast... There are only three alicorns in the world right now, my sister, my niece and I... and I... I am so sick of being so lonely. I am so sick of watching my ponies die.

"It's selfish and it's unfair, but I have a chance to save Twilight. And I'm going to take it."

She brushed the tear-streaks from her face with a wing. When she spoke again she was more calm. "Every alicorn manifested is another step towards prolonging the lives of all my little ponies. Towards curing them of this... brutally short lifespan with which they are afflicted.  My sister and I... We have mated with mortal ponies in the past. We have born foals. Their lifespans were greatly expanded, as were the lifespans of their offspring...every alicorn ascended is a little bit more longevity added to the bloodlines of the pony race." She sniffed. "All the more justification for pressing Twilight into ascension, don't you think? So if that makes me a meddling old mare... well, I'll take it."

What a bittersweet epiphany on my part. She wasn't just a Mother Figure. She was a mother; a matriarch to who knew how many of these ponies... a mother whose children all were born with a horrible defect that made them wither and die in a few brief years even as she watched. Small wonder that she smothered them, and pushed and manipulated the ones she was closest to so much. Small wonder indeed. I rested my hand on her shoulder in sympathy.

"I understand, Celestia. But I still say that the last thing Equestria needs--" I began.

She cut me off. "--is yet another immortal, all powerful ruler, I believe you were going to say? You are right in that regard; we should be a nation ruled by Law, not by ponies. Noone, not even an alicorn, has the 'natural right' to rule over others. But it's not like I have much choice in that regard; it has been Equestrian law for centuries that all alicorns are, by default, part of the royal ruling family of Equestria." She snorted. "You are right. My little ponies need to learn to rule themselves. The last thing they need is yet another all-powerful alicorn ruler. Why do you think I want Twilight as an alicorn princess so badly?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "I believe the flaw in your logic is rather self-evident," I said.

She stuck her tongue out at me. "It's rather simple, Arthur," she said, sweeping her mane out of her face. "The more alicorns there are, the more common we become. I want to see a day where alicorns are just another pony race.Every new alicorn is a step towards that, as well."

"And familiarity breeds... acceptance, I suppose, in this case." I concluded. "Or at least you hope. But what of Twilight herself? This will wreck her life. She's a scholar, not a ruler."

"She would be a great ruler."

"Whether she could be or not is irrelevant, the point is that she should not be."

Celestia shook her head. "At least you care for her wellbeing, Arcturus."

"Or I'm just projecting myself onto her," I said.

"Projecting?"

"Mmm. Then again--- a neurotic, reclusive, antisocial guilt-obsessed protege' with mountains of confidence issues, a manipulative parental figure and a pathological fear of failure. What could we possibly have in common?"

She smiled. It was so much better when it was genuine. "Do not fear for her happiness, Arthur," she said. "I'm not going to plunk her plot on a throne right after her coronation. At least not for a couple of centuries, if ever." She dimpled."With any luck, never. I'm rather taken with the regal system in your world's Great Britain, after all; the notion of reigning without ruling is certainly attractive." She sighed.  "Maker knows I could use the vacation."

"Then perhaps it is time the title of 'Princess' was changed," I said. She regarded me with a cocked eyebrow. "Make it an honorific," I urged. "Limit its power, make it symbolic for any future ascendants. Proclaim it a title of respect rather than authority. It would at least be a first step towards diminishing the throne, and establishing Rule of Law and Consent of the Governed, rather than rule by crown. That will at least let Twilight continue to live her own life... and keep the weight of the throne from falling on her back."

She regarded me. "Quick with ideas and suggestions as always," she said. She smiled faintly. "For a Hydra farmer." She turned serious. "The suggestion-- is not without merit. But it might be tricky setting the precedent; I could use an experienced advisor to help me dot the i's and cross the t's..." she trailed off, hint made.

"Will you come back, Arthur?" she asked.

I felt fleeting shame crawl over me. "Do you truly WANT me back?" I asked.

"Yes," she said simply. "I was not lying when I said I valued your counsel. Or your friendship." She tilted her head. "Besides, Luna misses you."

"Does she now?"

"Yes. You make her laugh. The highlight of her night is you muttering commentary in her ear during the Court of Night."

"Do I now? I wondered."

"Yes, you evil thing. It takes everything she has to keep from laughing out loud, she tells me." Celestia chuckled. "She nearly dislocated a rib when you called the Duchess of Trottington a 'hambeast.' "

"I thought that calling 'soooeee' was what did it," I commented idly. Celestia burst out laughing. "Sakes alive, how does a pony get that fat? They nearly had to roll her into the audience chamber..." I took a deep breath and blew it out. "I suppose... I shall come back after all. Let me fetch my bags." I went into my shack and retrieved my suitcase and a canvas shoulder bag, then rejoined Celestia. The bag clinked as I walked.

Celestia regarded the bag curiously. "And what is this?" she said.

I opened the bag, revealing it to be full of hundred-bit pieces. The weight-reduction charm on the bag was strained to the limit. "My dividends from various personal projects," I said. "Percentages from sales of my biography, my ten percent from the Great and Powerful Trixie, use of my likeness on merchandise..." I looked at her. "What, do you think I was going to run off in the wilderness and try to live off the land like a wild mountain man? I'm not a twenty year old idiot anymore. No, I'm a much more experienced forty year old idiot."

"I can't help wondering how you intended to shop for supplies," Celestia said dryly.

I pointed over my shoulder at the rusty mailbox mounted on a pole. "Mail order," I said. "Leave a muffin on top of the mailbox and Derpy can spot it clear from Ponyville." Celestia's expression spoke volumes. I shrugged. "That's how Zecora gets postal service in the Everfree."

Celestia blinked, then shook her head. "I... sincerely do not know whether to believe you or not," she said.

"Anyway, shall we be teleporting, or taking a chariot?" I said. "And do you want to fetch down the security detail hiding in the trees, or should I?"

"You saw them did you?" she said in a monotone.

"Two days ago. Either that or Foggy Bottom Bog has some darned big canaries hiding in the trees," I remarked drolly.

  There was a basso growl, followed by a rather falsetto stallion's shriek. A few islands over, Chuckles the Hydra had surfaced. All four of his heads were taking a keen interest in a rather dense clump of mangroves. The treetops were shaking violently as something inside objected to the hydra's scrutiny. "CHUCKLES!" I yelled. "YOU LEAVE THAT POOR GUARD ALONE!!"

"HELP!!" the unseen guard yelled.

"DON'T MAKE ME GET THE MILKING MACHINE!!"

 

 

---

 

"..Anyway, Celestia and I rescued the guards, we all came back to Canterlot and bathed in calomine lotion till the poison ivy went away," I finished. I doubted Button Mash heard that last bit; he was laughing too hard. The colt was practically rolling back and forth, slapping the mattress with his good hoof.

I heard a giggle behind me. I turned and saw our nurse standing in the doorway. "Heard the story, did you?"

"Enough of it," she giggled. "I'm here to check on Button's medication."

I looked over at Button. "Ahhh, druuuuugs," I said in my best "stoner" voice.

The colt giggled. "Yeah. Druuuuuuuuugs," he said back, wiggling his lip at me. Ever seen a horse do that lip-flapping thing? It's both cute as heck and  bloody hysterical when ponies do it.

The nurse's grin turned sarcastic as she stepped into the room. "I'm starting to wonder just how strong that medication we give you two IS," she said.

"Better living through chemistry," I said cheerfully as she looked over Button's morphine drip. She rolled her eyes and ignored me.

"So that's how Princess Twilight became an alicorn, huh?" Button said.

"NNNot exactly," I said, waggling my hand. "That came a bit later. Wasn't THAT an interesting day. Chaos, explosions, chicken stampedes, cats and dogs living together... "

"Cool." Button looked eager. "Tell me about it."

"You might want to save that for later," our nurse said. "Breakfast will be in, in a few minutes. Then visiting hours start. I believe you both have a few ponies who said they'd be by to see you."

"Won't that be nice," I said.

"So wasn't there s'posed to be a moral to that story?" Button asked me. "Grownups are always saying there is."

I lay there and thought it over. "I suppose that if there was, it would be... that growing up doesn't mean always being right. It's about knowing when to insist you're right.... and knowing how to admit you're wrong. And maybe, learning how to disagree and still be friends."  I scratched my chin thoughtfully. " Wouldn't exactly fit in a fortune cookie, but what do you think?"

Button Mash shrugged and grinned. "Works for me."