The day was waning, not quite time for Luna to raise the moon, and still too early for dinner. Celestia wandered the halls of the castle, thinking about what she had observed in the garden, hovering a book in front of her, distracted from her surroundings. This enigma that was Weaver, King of Dreams, shy to strangers, raging beast to those who he thought challenged him, and yet gentle and full of hate so deep she couldn't fathom it. Even his magic was strange, not based simply on internal or external power, but something much more apart from the natural orders she knew. His writings and diagrams of magic were stunning, some so complex that not even she and Luna together could accomplish them. Yet he could demonstrate them as though they were a spattering of foal tricks. Yet it was not his magic and darkness she was considering now.

"I've distrusted him since we met," Celestia said to herself, flipping another page of the book with her magic. "He plagued me with foalish tricks, pettily berated me with nuisances. Atop of that, he reduced my crown to powder, though it was simple enough to recreate it, it proved his contempt for my very presence. He resents my helping hoof that scattered the monsters in his hopeless kingdom of shadows. He renounced my very presence and prestige before my sister. He made open threats to my being... yet why do I pity him? All nations respect my position because I control the sun, bringing light over their fields, yet he shows such contempt for my importance to the world. He lives in darkness, but basks under my sun in joy for the warmth it gives him."

She paused and looked out a window. Outside was a birdbath full of robins and wrens. She closed her eyes in a scowl and fluttered her wings in frustration.

"He dared to hunt in my gardens to fill his lust for raw flesh. He rejects the diet I give to him, perfect to an omnivorous monster such as him. We spent months just to find out what he could and couldn't eat, yet he longs for the poisons his golden blood cannot contain. But we shouldn't have bothered, his only affliction is his ultimate transformation into a mindless monster. One that would be much less powerful and easier to control. His physiology is hardly of an importance now. He helped us capture and bring back some beasts to hold in the deepest dungeons to study, he..."

She stopped herself in horror and disgust at where she was beginning to drag her thoughts. How could she dare start drifting to such a dark place? Weaver was a living being infected by a disease that drained his emotions and soul, transforming him into a patchwork monster. He was her rival, no one else's. Of all the ponies he had confrontations with, she was the only one he held a grudge towards. Had she ever tried to reconcile with him? No, even after all the knowledge he had given them in hopeful thanks return of a cure, holding back his powerful magic when anger, impatience and terrible fits of depression took over. Celestia had left Dr. Needle and Luna to comfort him, never seeking to see if she herself could aid him in any way.

"He's done his best to comply to our requests. Shared his knowledge of magic, helped in every way he could. Made himself useful, hasn't harmed anypony. My sun and the air burns his infected flesh, and he's not got over it. He's sad, constantly, and I've kept him locked away for fear he would hurt my subjects. If he wanted to, he obliterate the castle and half of Canterlot before Luna and I could react. He has done no wrong to any, save me, who has refused to reconcile herself. Am I, instead, the monster?"

She thought back a couple years to when a maid had brought her son with her to work, because she had found no one to look after him. Celestia wasn't worried, as she worked no where near Weaver's confines. But colts, being the delightfully mischievous creatures they were, had gotten away from his mother and managed to sneak through the castle unnoticed until he stumbled upon Weaver in the middle of a meal upon the balcony. Weaver had explained having to quickly knock a part of his meal off his plate to keep from terrifying to foal, and lick the blood from his lips before he noticed. He shared his dessert with the colt and then made sure to take him back to his mother, personally. No amount of arguing from guard, doctor, or princess could stop him from his intended route of chivalry.

Celestia knew she should have congratulated him for his conduct. But instead she had reprimanded him, telling him it was not a good thing to be seen by others who were not privy to his existence. She had done so right in front of the maid and her son, practically humiliating him. He had controlled himself quite well, when she could feel the rage building up inside him.

She realized now that she had wanted him to explode in front of the maid and her son. She had wanted him to be seen as a monster. How could she? She had never wished such a thing upon Chrysalis, Sombra, Discord or even Tirek. She had persevered through them all, even going so far as to reform Discord. But she had felt sorry for them, wishing they were not so evil. But for Weaver... she felt pity.

Pity was an emotion directed at something weak and deemed useless. Weaver was anything but weak, and the list of his uses expanded every day. He had endured countless years alone in an infinite expanse of nothing. But she had enclosed him within an isolated area, guarded and constantly watched. She found herself now marveling at how he had not gone insane. Dr. Needle and her sister were his only friends, and Weaver made no effort to make anymore. But there was only so much a couple of mares could talk about that a stallion would be interested in.

Celestia dropped the book and looked at her reflection in the window. Her perfect features, creamy fur, and perpetual mane were a majestic sight for anypony to behold. But now she could see a twisted beast beneath. How could she feel sorry for monsters who had ravaged her kingdom, but hate and contempt for a single stallion who had done nothing to anypony but her. And what he had done was hardly worth thinking about. Save her crown.

"What have I become?" She asked herself as she lowered her head to the ground. "I smile before my subjects, I attend festivals and give the gift of my sun to the whole world. Yet I keep a pony prisoner within the halls of this castle. A Gilded cage with many exits that he honors. How can I wear this crown while I dare to..."

"No," she said, standing up straight and dignified. "I will not stand here like a child who does not know what to do. I have committed a grievous wrong, and now I must make it right. I shall... apologize."

* * *

Weaver's room was nice, like most of the rooms in the castle, but dark with closed curtains and stacks of books were all over the place. Weaver cluttered the place up with all the books her read an reread, mainly physical sciences, some histories and novels, but surprisingly few books on magic. There were also plenty of blank books that he filled with his own notes and diagrams, some of them he wrote in an archaic language when he didn't feel like sharing some information he gathered. Keeping it for himself until a later date when it was no longer of use for him.

He preferred using brushes rather than quills, giving his words and sketches a special look. He could even use up to ten brushes at once to fill of an entire page in seconds. He could definitely use more, but then he wouldn't be able to see what he was doing on the small space he had. Though he sometimes found himself absentmindedly doodling things during moments of deep thought.

He laid his brushes down on a board next to him and looked at a clock in a wall. He had been expecting Lady White to come in yell something or other about him getting away from the guards, but that had been hours ago. He had destroyed the grass fiber suit, as it would had turned into paper in a matter of hours anyway. He hoped Lady White wouldn't find out too soon about his meeting with... Fancy Ants and Flower Deli? Their names were already fading from his mind. He hated that.

Then he heard the door creak open. With a sigh, he stood up. The jig was up. As usual, he would take his punishment casually and probably loose his temper near the end. But when he looked at Lady White, something seemed different.

Clearing her throat, Celestia strode past Weaver and laid a book atop a random stack. She didn't look at him as she addressed him.

"I was in the garden this morning, when I came upon a very interesting sight." Her ears twitched when she heard his hooves slide on the carpet for a more stable stance. He was expecting her usual, regrettable attitude. But she would give him none of it. I called my guards to me and hid our scent and watched as a stallion appeared to ready to eat a squirrel in my garden. Now I was ready to stop this stallion then and there..."

Weaver narrowed his eyes and pulled back his lips to reveal his teeth.

"...Then along came two other ponies that I had somehow missed," Celestia continued without turning around. "They surprised the stallion I was afraid he was going to hurt them. But instead, he appeared to make friends with them, and told them what might be considered lies, but I know it was merely vague truth."

Weaver was confused. Her voice hadn't changed at all, and her words didn't seem to mean anything. He kept up his face and stance the same just to be safe.

"He spoke of many things that me think." Celestia turned around and faced Weaver with no anger or reproach in her eye. That disarmed him, and he took a calm step forward, losing his aggression and taking on a face of pure confusion. "It saddens me that you are so confused."

"Uuuh," Weaver said for lack of anything substantial on his brain at the moment. What was going on?

"I have been absolutely terrible to you, Weaver Impossible," Celestia said, lowering her head a little. "You have done nothing to earn my distrust and scorn. What happened in the void was your kinds natural reaction when you feel threatened, and I dared to antagonize you even more. You have proven yourself willing to go through inconceivable trials to find help for your kingdom. When you found help, you wound up a prisoner within stone walls."

"I hope this is an apology that will end soon," Weaver stated bluntly.

Celestia actually smiled, catching Weaver off-guard. She nodded. "Yes. I should stop talking, you know it all. I am here to apologize to you, King Weaver. I pray you can forgive my actions these past five years."

"You're forgiven," Weaver said quickly with a broad smile that surprised Celestia. "But, I'm to have to ask for my freedom now."

Celestia nodded. "All our medical tests on you were completed a long time ago, all the other tests have been to sate curiosities. I am sorry to subject you to that as well. If we need you for help with the cure, we will contact you. I will arrange for you to stay at the Ponyville Castle, where you can interact with the ponies of my kingdom as you wish. The only pony I insist go with you is Dr. Needle, as I feel you'll need a familiar face by your side to help you adjust to the more friendly nature of the place."

"Done," Weaver said, trying to surprise the excitement in his voice. "But you will call me immediately if you find a cure."

Celestia nodded. "Of course. You'll be the first face your healed ponies will see. Would you like to leave tonight or..."

"Tonight," Weaver piped up.

"Very well," Celestia said with a bob of her head. "I will leave you to pack while I prepare a chariot."

After she left, Weaver trotted over to a wardrobe and pulled out his living clothes, putting it on and looking around the room with a shrug. Nothing else was his. Then he remembered the notebook he was writing in. He closed it and tucked it inside his clothes for safekeeping. He was about to leave, when something caught his attention.

He levitated it over to him and saw that it was the book Celestia had brought with her. "The Paces: A Contemporary Thesis". He put it back and headed out the door with a half-smile on his face. "Are you really just now trying to understand such an old thing, Lady White?"