May 3rd, 993 Domina Solaria

Princess Celestia, unblemished regalia sparkling as if it had not just been through far too many hours of sitting through courts, regally walks - not trots - into her office. Her guards salute as they shut the door behind her, going back to standing at attention, their armor and crests just as spotless. It isn’t until the superfluous latch clicks that Princess Celestia rushes forward, an unaccustomed and frantic pace she hasn’t resorted to in years. The echo of her pacing hoofsteps die after a single reverberation, as otherwise the cacophony might be an assault even to her own ears.

Her thoughts are finally free to roam instead of focusing on the minutiae of her little ponies’ lives. She lets them wander aimlessly, from speculation by the miner’s guild on whether or not the mountains of the Frozen North are worth exploiting to pleasant memories of her Sister when they were foals, frolicking through roiling hills and bubbling chocolate fields to the latest law Fancy Pants introduced to curb the worst usuries, noble or otherwise, looking to profit by lending to speculative ventures and taking advantage of bankruptcy laws.

All potentially related if one takes a far enough look. Discord, the master manipulator of Chaos, muddled with memories with the same impunity that he messed with mountains. Or perhaps they weren’t connected at all, but the coincidences her mind pulls up are linked more often than not.

Which makes it disconcerting that her mind keeps coming back to two seemingly unrelated issues: this creature, this magic-less human (the heresy is almost unpalatable), who was able to successfully impregnate three mares. And the return of her Sister, and the Nightmare, in eight years time.

After nearly a minute of pacing she feels sufficiently settled, the rigors of the day sifted through and categorized. Magenta eyes close briefly as she takes a long, deep breath, steeling herself for the harrowing experience she knows to be ahead.

“Ready,” she says to nopony in particular, the barest hint of a question trailing at the end. A few moments later she nods and drops her wards. One of her guards opens the door to her office and ushers her most maligned adviser inside.

“Good evening, your Highness,” Chancellor Neighsay greets neutrally, carefully holding back his natural cynicism.

“Chancellor,” Princess Celestia responds with a fond smile, slightly inclining her head.

He spots the single paper on her desk, separate from the reams of reports she would be going through tonight. “I see this is still at the forefront of your mind.”

Princess Celestia nods. “I hope you have something uplifting to end with tonight.”

Chancellor Neighsay laughs, a single bark as sharply punctuated as his goatee. It isn’t derisive, by any means, but born of a grim consideration of countless possibilities, none nauseating enough to turn his merciless mind.

“I was afraid of such,” Princess Celestia says with a resigned sigh, though her hope remains as irrepressible as always. Neighsay, unlike many of her other little ponies, has no trouble telling her uncomfortable truths and risks, but she has yet to come across one they cannot plan for and put contingencies into place. Her hoof sweeps graciously as she calmly states, “Whenever you are ready.”

“The first and most obvious result of pursuing a foal with this... human,” Chancellor Neighsay begins, slipping into the scoffing jeer he finds comes most naturally, “is death.”

“Of course,” Princess Celestia returns with a measured nod. It is not as if she has never pondered the possibility of her own demise, though seriously considering a course of action that could easily result in the same is much less frequent. Thankfully her ponies have made many strides in the millennium of her reign, and unicorns permanently losing their power is less a reality, though mostly untested. “Perhaps I should give Night Light a trial run at shifting the stars.”

“Perhaps.” Chancellor Neighsay’s muzzle somehow purses more than normal. “I fear,” he slowly says, as if considering the ramifications in real time, “that such an action may kindle a similar reaction as you suffering an actual, temporary or permanent, loss of your abilities.”

“And this is different than death,” Princess Celestia prompts, letting him continue even though she knows where he is going. Every so often he would bring up a point or make a connection she had not considered, as well as giving herself the opportunity to go over her own reasoning.

“Yes.” Chancellor Neighsay waits for the Princess to tell him to move to the next possibility, then explains after a brief pause, “If you were to die in the pursuit of this goal, especially if the circumstances are mysterious enough, then you may remain a beloved figure, a martyr for her cause. Infighting and jockeying is nearly guaranteed, but with proper procedures the transition of power may proceed smoothly. If you remain powerless, drained by your pursuit, ponies may lose their faith. One might see your words discounted, your requests undermined, as everypony vies for their own benefit.”

“Perhaps it would be best to slip to the shadows,” Princess Celestia muses to herself.

“I only counsel possibilities,” Chancellor Neighsay quickly appends. He bows his head slightly, hiding his smirk. “I would never seek to make a determination in your stead.”

“Of course,” Princess Celestia says, a slight sternness to her voice. She smiles bemusedly, hiding the roll of her eyes. How many times must she tell him the mock subservience is unnecessary? “Please continue.”

Chancellor Neighsay nods as he rises, his smirk contained. He needs no notes as he continues, “Any other possibilities resulting in failure pale in comparison. You have endured the loss of an unborn foal before-”

Princess Celestia’s breath catches at the painful reminder, even though she knew it was coming. Even after hundreds of years, her innumerable - she could, though never would, count through them - losses continue to eat at her. While her attempts in this field may have stilled she finds herself rekindled at the possibility, no matter how remote, of finally realizing a solution.

“-though always by Harmony’s hoof.” Chancellor Neighsay prepares himself, his horn charging unconsciously and imperceptibly.

Her teeth grit against each other. The reigning theory as to what plagues her is an incompatibility of magic. Simply put, earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi each have a distinct presentation of their abilities. A foal is never born half pegasi, half unicorn - always one or the other, though their thaumic capabilities might end up split between the two. Alicorns, on the other hoof, are indisputably composed of all three. Any attempt at sundering that magic, as must happen when two cleave together, results in what Harmony must interpret as an abomination, an incompatibility to life, and acts according to her frustratingly opaque will. Perhaps if an alicorn stallion existed, there might be a chance, but-

Chancellor Neighsay says brusquely, “It has never come at the hoof of another.”

A moment passes when no sound disturbs the room. Then Chancellor Neighsay breathes out, and back in, hoping against hope that the Dawn Blazer, a pony capable of roasting a dragon to a crisp, can keep her cool. The alicorn standing in front of him makes no outward movement, yet the beads of her eyes shift to flickering flames against a black background. Her mane brightens to a uniform gold outlined in a burnt orange, heat radiating as if the sun itself stands before him. He tugs at his ceremonial coat, beads of sweat staining the expensive fabric.

He idly wonders if he would pass out from the agony of his blood boiling before it kills him.

“I am glad,” Princess Celestia eventually states, her voice devoid of emotion, her focus on nothing in particular, “that I thought to bring you into this, because nopony else would openly state, much less think, of the assassination of a foal, my foal, as a possibility.”

“Highness...” Chancellor Neighsay ekes out, head bowing as he drops to his knees.

Slowly the room returns to normal as a cool breeze, originating from the closed double doors that lead to the balcony, blows through. Chancellor Neighsay finds his garment pushing away from his coat, the beads of sweat whisking away on the wind. It returns, warm and soft against his fur as if fresh from the wash.

“I fear my reaction would be worse,” Princess Celestia admits, an apologetic lowering of her rainbow maned head to her adviser, “especially if the perpetrator was unable to be found.”

“H-hopefully she will be beloved by all,” Chancellor Neighsay stammers. He taps a hoof against his chest, slowly regaining his imperious stature.

“You are ready to continue?” Princess Celestia asks, concern in her voice.

“I am,” Chancellor Neighsay says, his sneer returning. He takes a deep breath, a low chuckle in his throat. “Your appetite may increase in… unpalatable ways.”

“More than my usual cakes?” Princess Celestia says, raising a hoof to tap against her muzzle. “Gemstones? Meats?”

“I was thinking ponies.” His chuckle grows dark. “Specifically for their magic, if the report from Ponyville is true and you or the foal need a way to… obtain more.”

“Unpalatable indeed,” Princess Celestia says morbidly.

“You may find it more difficult to move while carrying the foal,” Chancellor Neighsay continues. “Or, perhaps, the foal might warp the space around it, eventually creating a sort of immobility field in which you are unable to leave.”

“That seems... unlikely, to put it mildly,” Princess Celestia says, though she lets out a quiet chuckle of her own.

Chancellor Neighsay shrugs. “There’s no telling what might happen, dealing with a ‘zero’, if you can believe the results.”

“Of course, and I do,” Princess Celestia returns. “Perhaps you can relegate the… more dubious possibilities to writing, unless you think the potential risk high enough to warrant action.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Chancellor Neighsay says, running through the admittedly long list of extraordinarily unlikely possibilities. “I feel I must mention.” Chancellor Neighsay’s eyes shift from side to side. “There is a possibility to… test the waters, as it were. Avoid many, though not all, of these potential outcomes.” He pauses, his eyes shifting from side to side.

“...Go on,” Princess Celestia commands, the first time she has had to do so.

“Princess Cadance.” He takes a deep breath. “She could test this… human, and see what happens. But, after her…” Chancellor Neighsay stalls, his muzzle pursing. He isn’t sure how much is supposed to be known about Princess Cadance’s singular foray with Prince Blueblood.

“Attempt is fine,” the titular Princess of Love says as she materializes from the wall. The light from her horn fades as she closes her eyes, the traces of her disguise spell disappearing. Her attempt at keeping her composure is admirable, though taxing.

Chancellor Neighsay takes the appearance of a second Princess in stride, merely glancing from the pink alicorn to the white one. “I see the rumors that you are grooming a second ruler are true.”

“One of many contingencies,” Princess Celestia admits, a few steps taking her next to her fellow Princess. “Cadance, is it too much?”

“You would go through this for my sake,” Princess Cadance says softly, wiping away her tears. “I would do the same for yours.” A ray of hope shines forth as she stands, again a regal ruler. “Please, continue.”

“Very well,” Chancellor Neighsay says. “Should everything proceed smoothly, I foresee two main areas of concern. First, how will other nations take the news, if the foal is an alicorn?”

“I should hope gladly,” Princess Celestia says, though she certainly knows a minority will have a markedly different reaction.

“All will pay lip service to your ‘accomplishment’,” Chancellor Neighsay confirms, “but any who wish to be more than bit players on the stage will know they have a limited time to make their moves. They will not believe you even if you are satisfied with one, and, regardless, I doubt that to be the case.”

“Correct,” Princess Celestia says, frowning. “Hence the assassins.”

“Indeed.” If Chancellor Neighsay wore glasses, he might have pushed them up; instead, a hoof rubs at his forehead. “The second is a bit more daunting, and considerably more likely.”

“Oh?” Princess Celestia asks, intrigued.

“You are beloved by all,” Chancellor Neighsay explains, “and many ponies follow in your example. As of the latest census there are approximately four mares to every stallion. Partially due to your example as a celibate ruler, twenty one percent of mares also choose to remain without foal. Twenty three have one, fifty five percent have two, and one percent have three or more. Yes?”

“Approximately,” Princess Celestia confirms.

“This gives us one point three six foals per mare, barely above replacement rate.” Chancellor Neighsay eyes Princess Celestia appraisingly. “If one didn’t know better, they might think it was planned that way, and has been for a thousand years.”

Princess Celestia smiles and shrugs.

“Regardless,” Chancellor Neighsay continues, “if you were to bear a foal, this dynamic would change drastically. How many mares would be content with zero foals? If perhaps half have a foal, and a fourth of the mares with one decide to have a second, we would see an explosion in the population. And I believe that to be a low estimate of the numbers of new foals we would see.”

“I see,” Princess Celestia says, beaming. “Is there anything else?”

“There are endless possibilities,” Chancellor Neighsay says, “but none pressing.”

“Very well. Thank you for your assistance, as always.” Princess Celestia bows her head, Princess Cadance following shortly after.

“Of course, your Highness.” Chancellor Neighsay nods at Princess Celestia, then Princess Cadance. “Highness.” He takes his leave shortly after as the white alicorn drapes a comforting wing over pink.

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