She found Blueblood peering at one of the newer paintings in the less-traveled halls of the castle. He inhaled sharply, perhaps because he sensed her approach, or maybe to loosen the ascot that looked so tight around his neck. It could, of course, be one of his many usual sighs at something he had yet to be bothered about. That was always a very Blueblood thing to do.
"Hello, nephew. What brings you to the castle this morning?" Only when the steam curling from her coffee brushed her face did she know that a smile was on her muzzle. Maybe it had been there when she had been strolling, wishing to run into him; either way it had emerged as she needed it, expected it to, and Blueblood was given the same smile of the mare he knew as his aunt.
"Good morning, Auntie." He gave her a smile so thin he could have passed it off as the expression somepony made when sampling sour candy. She was certain that Blueblood knew his smiles were these brief, slim things too, because now that he wasn't a young colt, she had seen little else from him. "I wished to inquire about storage space."
Celestia brought her mug to her lips and considered his words with one long sip. On her mug, a sun wearing sunglasses flashed a bright smile. "Storage for what, Bluey?"
"Hrm. Just a few antiques." He cleared his throat with obvious displeasure. "I had the misfortune of securing some... surprisingly garish knickknacks when I expected good theatre posters." Blueblood huffed like a foal disappointed on their birthday. "Vintage pieces have zero right to be sold with..." One forehoof fluttered to his ascot, which as she expected, was plain-patterned so that it couldn't be arranged asymmetrically. "...knickknacks. Ugh, and there were a hoofful of these paintings that turned out to be so unsightly. Wanting to branch out from nouveau decor does not mean I want anything as messy as impressionist pieces in my manor."
"I... I see?" She really didn't; let her be the one member of the royal family - and yes, that label did not sit well with her - that was unfamiliar with all the intricacies of fine art. Knowing how quick Blueblood was quick to ascribe the quality of being unlikable or undesirable to anything not tastefully old had the more peculiar way of making her uncomfortable. "Move them here whenever you can, and I'll see what can be done about storage."
Numerous places in the castle were known to her eyes only, and while they were probably too much for simple storage, they were a safe option and available.
The portrait he was looking at was an old version of the official royal one, though this was one she still deemed fit to be seen by the public. And herself.
The Celestia that stared back toward anypony in the hallway absolutely oozed with unconstrained matronliness, and far too much of it. Her mane was somewhat shorter and her regalia was the same that she wore now. The way her cheeks were overly rosy stood out to her now, and so did the notable weight. The mare in the present was well-aware that she was plump now; seeing how the Princess Celestia of the past was heavier-set only stirred a discomfort she couldn't name. What she recalled most vividly was that this kind of oversaturated motherliness was a front she tuned down considerably after a decade or so.
What Blueblood found worth examining in the friendly portrait, she did not know, but wished that it was something of the technique or the warmth from the paints and fabric of her ruffled dress. In a few years, this painting would likely meet the fate of the others she had neither need or want for: quietly burned and forgotten or stashed in the various vaults she had, close to the caves of old Canterlote and below modern Canterlot.
Such a picture of a chubbier, jolly, queenly, and mature mare would be stowed away to collect cobwebs to with other outdated Celestias, like the few pictures that managed to be retrieved from the Castle of the Two Sisters. On those canvasses that she kept out of a cocktail of guilt, anger, and unsavory emotions, a mare so obviously fully coming into final, adult marehood with hawkish eyes, a stern expression, shining tiara, and the ornate gown to show her status as a noble.
That wicked sister was lost to time in favor of other incarnations that ponies believed was the only image of Princess Celestia in their lifetime - just as that war-like mare had once been when she pulled Equestria through war.
And yet, to Blueblood she had only ever been 'Auntie' and all that such a term entailed.
"Thank you, Auntie. I'll see if I can have somepony from the the manor bring them over."
"Have them drop off anything in the throne room. I'll have some of the guard mange them."
Blueblood nodded, crinkling his muzzle suddenly.
"Goodness, Bluey. Did you leave the wood stove on?"
Blublood's let out a little gasp from her teasing remark. "Not at all! Though, if I had..." One forehoof darts to Blueblood's muzzle and he looks about ready to nibble at his hoof nervously.
"Bluey, you know it was just a-"
"I know, Auntie, but imagine if I had," Blueblood fretted. "Just think of the chaos!"
"Bluey-"
"All sense of order and safety-"
"Bluey," she repeated, more sternly this time. "Nothing of the sort will happen. Please just relax."
A rather unfortunate mixture could be seen in the flaws of a stallion who the public and a fan base of many a starstruck young mare, from Bluey's tendency towards theatrics, the usual echo of superstition that old families had rippling through them, and clear obsessive-compulsiveness that had plagued him for most of his life, and led to his obvious need to be physically immaculate.
The way his blue eyes grew always brought back memories of a spindly colt who broke into tears when he came in contact with cobwebs and used to be terrified of going outside to play because he had declared it to be 'filthy'.
Puffing out one last sigh that sounded so distinctly of the special kind of exasperation that only her nephew could manage, Blueblood wiped at his brow, sliding a hoof under his blonde flop of a mane. "That is easier said than done."
He bit his lip and hurriedly rearranged his mane so it was just as impeccable as before with a few touches of his magic. "I apologize, then. I didn't know that-"
"Auntie, there's no reason for you to apologize. Let's speak of something else, shall we?" He fixed her with an anticipatory look that had become a staple of all Blueblood's interactions with her.
As a colt, that look punctuated every time he told her about a new Bridleway show that was selling tickets again. In his school years, it hung like a question mark for whenever he wanted something to make his uniform better than any other school-colts or for when he had just started requesting funds for parties his parents wouldn't supply him with. When he was an adult, that was a fraction of the look that he gave her when he came out, paranoid about a rejection that never came.
Blueblood had never ceased to be about wanting. Amid all the wealth in his mature life and being a heir to a dukedom from birth, that look of his had always stayed, and it meant one thing more than ever: Bluey wants to ask Auntie for more bits.
Bluey wants bits.
She wasn't going to be the one to deny him; nopony so dear to her was going to leave her side unhappy. For all the fault of her memory bore now, she knew that she had never said no to Blueblood's requests. It shouldn't have to be his fault.
Bluey always wants bits.
Her stomach fluttered with discontent, but she gave him a bright, kindly smile. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea. There's something I've been meaning to ask you, if you wouldn't mind helping a silly old mare work out a few things."
Opening his mouth and closing it again, Blueblood nodded quickly, standing a little straighter. "Yes, what is it I can be of assistance with? Is one of the gardeners arranging the flowers odd? Has one of Princess Luna's moods made her withdrawn? Did any of Rae's correspondence get lost?"
"No, none of those things - Raven's letters are safe, too. I just wanted to ask you a few questions." She smiled at him again, more softly this time in order to match her tone. "How does that sound?"
One look at her usual ease and Bluey's worry dissolved into relieved laughter. "Just fine!"
A smile stayed on her muzzle and she nodded, mane giving a sluggish bob with the gesture. "I would like to know what you think of Sombra."
Using his name around others was really no different than telling a foal of the Headless Horse or Pony of Shadows. Everypony, no matter how old, still had something of a boogey-mare reaction to his name, just as they swore by hers and Luna's; such was the effect of having a name with power and reputation behind it.
"Well, the prince is..."
Blueblood never called him 'uncle'. "Haven't you been having some get-togethers recently?"
Blueblood tapped a hoof at her innocent inquiry. "Yes, Shining Armor has brought him on enough stallions' nights in the city. Aside from that Prince Charmless isn't the most social type. He and I haven't had too much to say to the other for the most part."
How odd, I thought that Bluey and Sombra would have clashed far more, knowing how those two are. "Does he talk more when Shining is around?"
"Yes, actually." Blueblood patted his mane and swished his tail with the thought. "A gentlecolt like Shining somehow manages to coax more words out of a stallion who is so similar assort to that student of yours - Miss Sparkle, that is. Back when she had little to say to anypony, only intellectual prattling on her mind, and was in nopony's circle but yours."
Celestia bit her lip with discretion. Blueblood and Twilight had only ever known of each other, and that was still very much the case, even now. He wasn't somepony who strove to offend anypony, and yet his words still kindled the slightest defensive feelings in her.
"Those two are as different as can be, what made you think to compare them?"
"Hrm," Blueblood half-shrugged, "I suppose it really is only because of the bookishness. He's hardly mannered company, and there's something so oblivious about his habits. Auntie, he conjures books from his gloomy study in pubs. There is no wealth of gossip to be found from talking to him. Talk of any or all forms of sports are lost on him."
"Would this be how he generally behaves?"
"Oh yes," Bluey nodded excitedly, invigorated by the chance to share even a morsel of near-gossip with her. "He's just rather daft. Especially for a god, I would think. Prince Sombra is all too willing to suggest bisexuality, and is so cruel that he will divulge nothing juicy about it! No common conversation can be had with him."
Well, that's something I never gave any consideration.
"How about uncommon conversation?" Celestia suggested. Already, Blueblood had given her a few tidbits that could be helpful: Sombra as the unsociable one of the trio, and speaking more freely around Shining Armor. The latter could surely help her with her learning anything more. "Does he ever do anything that's actually unusual?"
"Like?"
"Does he ever mention his past?"
"A little?" Bluey's magic is tugging at his lapels. "The fellow is very moody. Sometimes he has these little outbursts."
Celestia had to control her expression to keep her eyes from widening too much. "Do you mean 'panic attacks'?"
"Goodness, no. Those are when somepony is scared, and he's just a spiteful soul. Gods, he growls sometimes." Blueblood's last few words were spoken with an annoyed snippiness that was all the indication that if she poked around here any more, not only would Bluey have only vents about what he disliked in Sombra that would keep her from the rest of her day. Celestia certainly would be taking her leave soon, otherwise bits would be brought up again.
The sunny castle hall, cheery painting, and pale hues of her mane all swirled together with her smile created an atmosphere no different than the usual calm that came with Equestrian morning. (One that brought such a creeping unease when compared with her internal dissonance.) Who would think that an aunt and her nephew would be speaking of anything so grim when they appeared so genial?
"Thank you, Bluey. I think I know what I wanted now." Dipping her head in a grateful, familiar gesture, Celestia took her first steps away from her nephew. "Plenty more behavioral corrections could be added to Sombra's ongoing reformation."
Who would doubt such a normal cover for her questions?
Blueblood certainly didn't, and Celestia was able to take her leave peacefully.