//------------------------------// // Day Sixty Eight: Epilogue // Story: Paper Prince // by JLB //------------------------------// Prince Blueblood shot up from bed shrieking, his eyes bulging out, and his thrashing throwing the linens off his body. He quickly ran out of breath and succumbed to a coughing fit, his head collapsing back on the pillow. From there, he stared into the plain cement ceiling, several prolonged lamps casting light down on him. The stallion breathed quickly, intensely, and stopped only when he heard an artificial sounding chirp nearby. Coughing in confusion, the Prince decided to simply take a moment and assess the situation. He was only done attempting to shriek with his freshly coughed out voice when his body realized that its eyes were about to burn out through dehydration. Forcefully, they were shut, and that was when he managed to scream properly - without the environment of the relatively plain, angular room, there was much more room for him to remember and envision. Blueblood spent a long, long time reminiscing. In truth, a good portion of that time was spent with him having returned to unconsciousness, eyes unwilling to open again, but that did not diminish the rush of recollection any. To decide whether legitimate nightmares were any comparison to memories was to pick between a gallows pole and a guillotine. He knew he was awake when he had began to laugh. “Oh, this is so stupid,” the stallion thought to himself, mouth too occupied coughing out crying laughter. “This makes no sense. There is no way this can happen. Nothing adds up. No reason. No purpose.” A sharp breath through his nostrils, followed by a series of neurotic twitches that saw the linens thrown off once more, brought to his attention another nonsensical fact. A familiarity, actually. He knew the smell, he did, even though he had no business being able to smell it, it had no business being there, it had no business existing in the first place, and it was quite perfect. “Maybe I’ve won,” he continued to think. “Maybe this is how it works now.” “Prince Blueblood,” called to him a low, accented voice. Maybe too fitting, considering who bore the odor, but still. “Maybe, heh-heh,” he replied with a chuckle of near boredom. Why, the stallion could not tell. He had won, and that put so much out of the equation that he just had no idea. “Get yourself into shape, you southlander walking pile of a thousand screw-ups. We have to talk before they come get you for examination,” came the voice again. Male, in fact. He was also pushed by something very hard and a little cold. The coat neglected to stand on edge. “Aeh?..” the Prince vocalized lackadaisically. “They’ll want to see how alive you are, and soon. The doctors, Prince Blueblood, the Pierce Heaven medical specialists. Annoying, frustrating, paranoid noisy lot that I do not want to even think about right now. I don’t want them here, but there’s only so much I can do to delay them from meeting someone they purportedly brought back from the dead,” spoke the voice matter-of-factly, slightly higher pitched now that the Prince’s hearing had adjusted, and with significantly less of an accent. “I am just Jarl, after all, it isn’t like they have to obey my spoken command, no-no-no, I have to call in my connections to throw them for a loop. Ingrates.” “What.” “Prince Blueblood… there’s not much time. Nobody’s supposed to be in here, you see, and I… am. They can’t do anything to me, but they will pay a lot of attention to you if we’re not quick. And you?” A big equine approached him, the Prince felt. His eyes remained closed, but his ears had perked up where he lay, and heard a series of thuds. Strange rhythm to them. Maybe nonsensical, but… No, this was all not wrong enough. “Trust me, you don’t want that.” “What.” Repeating himself was more of a means to push the conversation somewhere - himself, he focused on opening his eyes. They opened groggily, but they did. He turned his head and looked at the northerner by his bed. Absolutely towering. Standing on his hind legs, in fact. A pegasus, enormous wings moving ever so slightly to remain in the air. Color of dark vanilla, adorned in much important-looking clothing. Faint memories of Canterlot life allowed Blueblood to compare those to some of his own home apparel. Home. Home. Really, his home apparel was a gaping hole where the heart belonged, and strands of blue leaking from the mouth. A limp hoof touched the hole spot, and found slightly pudgy flesh and showered coat instead. “You’ve been out a long time. And you’ve missed a lot. It’s a bad idea to pile events on you… but that’s what I’m doing, Prince. As you probably know, rulers do rash things sometimes. Including on purpose. Very rash. Suicidal, hm?” the northerner looked at him from his massive height. Blueblood looked right at him, for lack of other alarming things in the room, and even in his prime confusion he saw that this one was… small. Dwarfing the bulkiest pony the Prince had seen, of course, but only by just a bit. A willow of dirty blonde mane hung over exactly half the northerner’s face, and only a single owl-yellow eye looked straight at him - a controlled, slightly perked up glance. Owl-yellow eyes. Blueblood’s own shrunk upon the memory, and that was answer enough. Not to the right question, but the correct answer. “You even remember. How much?” “All of it,” said the pony blandly, mouth having gone very, very dry. “Good.” The northerner’s - the Jarl’s, as he was apparently titled - eye blinked. When it opened again, it was much sterner, and, with sharp, inequine motions, he turned away from the Prince and to a barred, shuttered window. “You’re dead and you’ll be working with me.” “What?..” “I said we had no time, so I’m cutting to the chase. I am Jarl Varsel of the Frozen North Sattelite Provinces, about a month ago you went and killed yourself, unleashed King Sombra onto Equestria, Equestria now has the Crystal Empire back, King Sombra is dead, and we’re working together now.” “...” “Trust me, I know it’s a lot to take in, but you have no time. I’d prefer if you knew why you’re getting sudden impulses to do thing A or thing B, you see. And you’ll be doing them. Not much. But you will be.” “Are… you… what… no.” “I’m afraid yes. Prince Blueblood… you are… in your southern terms… a zombie. They’re going to pass you off as a living, breathing pony, and that nothing went wrong, and they will ab-so-lute-ly tell you that you did not turn an army of very angry wraiths on Pierce Heaven and Equestria with it, or that you preach nihilism now, but that is all… the case.” Varsel rubbed his oddly long, thin forelegs together like a mantis. A soft metal clunking was heard. Blueblood just stared. He was about thirty seconds behind on the information intake, and sincerely wished he could just leave the loop overall. Past tense? All of that in past tense? And oh how much more was there to think… “You… I’m not working with anyone, no,” the stallion on the bed shook his head and waved one of his forehooves. “No, no, no. No. I am not anything, not with anyone, not anywhere, not for any reason. No. Enough, no. Take me back. I’ve unfinished business with them all. Yeah, take me back. Thanks.” The Jarl spun around on his thick hind legs, and stared right at the Prince. In a way not too unfamiliar, Blueblood’s body and that which it contained were pierced. “Then maybe I will.” A faint motion of the odd forelegs and a wispy crackle around the wings came in, before Blueblood realized that nothing was there anymore. Nothing. His eyes saw nothing, nothing but a freezing blue abyss. His eyes became redundant, his body felt naught but dismissing cold. But his ears, they worked. They heard the wailing of the wind. And not only. Then, his vision was back, and it was over. He required no explanation, fortunately for the Jarl. “This is the only place you’ll be going now, Prince, and if we’re having problems, I’ll have to take you there. At any moment. And yes. If I have to, I can see straight into you - as a matter of fact, I monitor all your actions. Please don’t waste either of our time by scrounging around trying to rid yourself of me. You won’t. You gave yourself to the Frozen North, Blueblood.” Varsel stomped over to him, and bent himself over the pony. The willow of his mane hung a little bit down, barely enough for the other eye to blink through. It was blank. “And I rule the Frozen North.” “Where is my army,” asked the Prince, his head planted firmly on the pillow. “Well… I do suppose that I could make a better first impression as your very direct superior. I’d say employer, but I won’t pretend you get much more out of this than your… “life”. Sad to say, but I don’t have as much pull in your part of the realm. Hence why I even bothered arranging all this mess with the “marvel of medicine”. Gah. You know the vital details, and I do have about a minute to spare, so why not?” With an odd smile, the Jarl shrugged, his massive wings fluttering a little in the air. Blueblood’s snout scrunched up under the familiar wail of the frozen wasteland. “You’re the biggest help I’ve ever had from these idiots from down under and below.” Still comprehending the line of events and their current state, the pony just listened. “You had an army, that you did. So many of them, oh-hooo! Not the entire spectral population, no, but quite a few. You have no idea how much of a problem these are.” Varsel got himself down to the groun, standing awkwardly in what should have been a normal quadrupedal stance. He shrugged and flexed as he spoke, and the crackle of bone and creak of metal was very audible. Nevertheless, he countinued, though groaning. “Traffic is a mess, trade is inconsistent, routes close, routes open, you send someone to deal with them, and then they die and add to the problem… You Equestrians won’t know what a pest is until you get a ghost infestation. Or… I suppose, until someone whom you’ve barely wronged infests you with them over ten centuries ago, but I digress.” He turned his head toward the pony, having said that, and gave him a single vehement glare, which was gone the next sentence. He then suddenly spoke with a slight emotive timbre to himself, bouncing up a little as he walked on all four, his forelegs now even more stilt-like and rigid. “For once, someone, something - you, Prince Blueblood, you - you clumped the damned things together. And then led them straight at all the fortified bastions in the area. I won’t be disrespectful, they had a tough time. They were made to repel more, well, direct and corporeal attacks, there wasn’t quite so much pest extermination equipment. I know the dragons and the centaur caused a mess - and be glad, by the way, that I’m only pulling seventy percent of the restoration and compensation costs out of your pockets .” A series of damp, wet, crackling noises emitted from outside the hospital room and caused the Jarl to grimace. He turned his head back, looking out the window in the tall door, and mumbled something under his breath. With a sigh, the northerner - or, well, The Northerner, it would seem - looked back through Blueblood. His odd eye lit up and his wide mouth strung upwards. “Now that all’s done, though… you have no idea how much clearer the roads are now! I look outside my hold, and there are at most five wandering ghosts out there by the walls! I used to have up to fifty before, mind you. So… really - thanks. You’re not amazing, no, I won’t pretend you’re anything more than a miserable pile of pony, if even that. But you remind me why I keep my kin away from conflict with you.” “Pest… control. Pest. Control. Pest… I… Am I awake?..” The Prince raised a weak hoof. It fell back down, limp like the rest of his body. “Blueblood… Let me get one thing as straight with you as I can while we have the time. Doubt you’ll digest it quickly - you still haven’t - but I’ll make sure you do, eventually. You are… not very good. At absolutely anything. The compass on your flank is the other way around, as last I checked. I don’t know if anyone ever told you that.” The Jarl stuck one of his forelegs into the stallion’s flank, which required him to take a step back and stretch the long limb. “But these things tend to have a point. You’ll never succeed at anything you try to do. You’ll never have what you want the way you want it. You… are a pony. This is how you work. Anything you try, you will fail. On top of being an insane, sheltered idiot, you were never going to do anything. It is only how vapid your ambitions are which matters. And I’m taking control of them now.” There was an incredibly awkward silence for ten seconds or so. Blueblood stifled a nervous laugh or twelve, but that was the extent of it. The fact that his purpose in life had been sorted as pest control and that he was now taking orders, at “home”, from a yellow-eyed oversized two-faced bastard with a long hanging mane… It would need later comprehending. For the moment, that bastard looked side to side, and out the door, slightly creaked open. The unicorn’s eyes followed, but caught only a quick shadow out there. “I guess I underestimated the ruckus. Some more time then. This’ll save us another unpleasant conversation through courier, I suppose…” Varsel sighed and chewed on a lip. His teeth were regular, Blueblood noticed. As regular as nearly thrice the size of a pony’s was. “I know it was her, of course it was her. You know who I mean. You saw what happened. Tell me in detail. I had eyes on it all, of course, but it was too late by then, and all too chaotic. Tell me. What happened. To HER.” “Screw you, Varsel.” Another thump and a crackle had Blueblood coughing and shaking when his life was given back to him again. “Call me Scar, I think. Everyone I talk to does that, and I guess we’ll be talking some. Now, again.” “She…” the Prince sighed. “I saw her… weapons… tear into her head. She screamed something in your language. I honestly can’t recall. I had far, far greater things on my mind.” Within, he added: “And I still do.” “Think what you will.” A threatening eye pierced him. “Her face. How much of it.” “How is…” “We’re very durable, she’s even more so, now tell me how much of her damn face, and where EXACTLY, did her cursed axes chomp in. Now. Time is not a luxury, remember that for the future, Prince.” “Her… scalp. Scalp and eyes. Not the snout. But that is where vital organs are, so… Maybe that problem is dealt with. Half her head has to be gone, I don’t think—” “No, no you don’t,” Scar cut him off, and turned around back to the window. His stilt-like forelegs touched the window frame with a clunky clatter. “You ffgh… Perfect. Great. Loving this damned week.” The Jarl sunk a stilted foreleg into the floor, causing a loud thud. “Nevermind. Not your problem. Just… hm.” “You know, I hear them when you take me there,” Blueblood spoke in the same plain tone he had been using ever since the nonsensical nature of his existence took a turn for the worse. That elicited no reaction. When the Jarl spoke, it was to continue where he himself left off: “I need to leave, they’re coming to congratulate you on being a marvel of their medical mastery. Nobody knows you’re a wraith. Nobody checks you on the way out. Nobody cares that you’re the only one they haven’t checked in a decade. Nobody suspects anything. If they do, you know what happens. When home? You sit in place, do whatever debauchery you Equestrians get up to, but when I need you to do something - you do it. Exactly how I tell you. I want to know something, you find out, you tell me back. I want to get a law through, you vote for it. I want Griffon berets to be the rage among old virgins - you pose in one for a magazine cover. Or else you suddenly have a heart attack and have a closed casket funeral. Understood, Prince?” For only having one eye, Jarl Varsel tore through Blueblood’s defenses about as well as Jarlinda Runa did with her larger two. All too familiarly. Perhaps because Prince Blueblood never had much of those defenses ever since maturity came along, little more than two months ago. “You know, I’m only a Prince on paper. My bloodline has been pretenders for nearly four hundred years,” the pony recited the fact just to chime in. “You… what.” “You haven’t heard? I told her that. You know, I might— No, nevermind, freezing abyss, understood.” “No… again… what did you call yourself. Say it again.” “You said you were looking at us back then, somehow. I’ve said it then, so—” “I was busy at the time, now say. It. AGAIN.” Blueblood’s fleshy form shook under the guttural growl of the otherwise soft-spoken Jarl. His snout was right in front of the Prince’s, even though that required him to abandon his bipedal position and float in the air as a quadruped. “I… am a Prince… on paper. A… uhm... “ A nervous smile crept up on Blueblood’s face, its corner jerking. “A paper prince.” “A paper prince. Oh gods, just how many things did I do wrong in my life.” Scar shrugged, stretching his snout sideways, and rubbing it against the furs he was wearing. Not without some issue, he buried his snout in them completely, and rubbed it there, quietly muttering something. He sounded less than pleased, the stallion could hear as much. Definitely not understand, though. The pony wondered about a suitable answer for some time. His attention was somewhat taken by a quiet rumble outside the room, and more wet noises with it, but he did offer an empty, hoarse “uhhh” before surrendering. Blueblood really did not have too much to say. Not anymore, at least not at the moment. “Pardon?..” he tried. Varsel turned around, no longer looking the Prince’s way. A frustrated, angry grimace was on his snout for a brief moment, until it went out of Blueblood’s vision. The large equine headed for the door, his long, rigid forelegs making loud contact with the floor. “Nevermind. I told you everything. Now stay down, wait for the good doctors, and pretend to be a marvel of Equestrian medicine that not a soul will hear about. Rub the ponies’ ego, they like it. Meet you again, got to run, bye. Shade, stop fucking around and get the door for me,” the Jarl said all hurriedly, the last sentence not even aimed at Blueblood at all. He minded little. He lay in his bed, face almost torn open by a massive grin. His eyes bulged again, and this time were definitely dehydrated. He breathed quick, rapid breaths. From nothing, to Nothing, to nothing again. For one last thing, he decided to see what it was that he stared at - a small mirror to his side, evidently for patients to see their new healed selves. And so he saw himself. Slightly overweight, slightly scarred, missing some hair, some bruises on his face, and a bright blue, shining, liquid-covered compass on his flank. Commissioner Hoover, Pierce Heaven Police Departmentto Master Secretary Raven Claw, Princess Celestia’s Letters and Filing Department Urgently requesting interference with the command situation at Frozen North outpost Pierce Heaven. Unsupervised and intermittently unconfirmed changes are bringing morale down at extreme rates, and decisions taken by those now in charge are more than questionable. That is highly detrimental to the external defenses of the Equestrian realm, and direct royal oversight is required to be in order. For particular information, I have attached a separate, sealed document of suspicious and questionable activities performed by the individuals in question, them being the newly appointed City Enforcer A. Lux and Chief of Internal Affairs M. Buster. Full names attached in sealed document as well. However, for clarity’s sake, my concerns are on the level of major threats to Equestria. As I write, the former had authorized the uninspected leave of a member of your own royal family, Prince Blueblood, from the city, despite the vastly suspicious nature of his delayed return. Whereas the latter did offer protest, a series of activities of his own do give me cause for suspicion as well. The reasoning for how such an act is inconceivable is also enclosed. I thank you for the time, and request that this all be forwarded to Princess Celestia herself. Secretary Inkblot, Princess Celestia’s Letters and Filing Department to Commissioner Hoover, Pierce Heaven Police Department Your request cannot be processed due to the current absence of Master Secretary Raven Claw. We write to notify that your messages are very important to us and will be processed as soon as the abovementioned issues are fixed. Thank you, and have a good day keeping the peace in your glorious (LOCATION).