Chapter 1
The unicorn held the bottle in a strong, telekinetic clutch. Bring it up to his mouth, a rich, dark liquid gurgled from the bottle downwards, sloppily emptying itself onto his face and chest. He grunted disgustedly and let the bottle clatter to the ground, fanning his hooves over his chest and desk in a haphazard attempt to clear up the mess. He croaked in vague satisfaction as he found that none of the wine - some old Red from Roam or somewhere; still a waste, though - had ended up on the paperwork that littered his workspace.
Dim lights from fading candles cast long, hard shadows over the bitter figure. Ragged blonde hair over a pale, white coat; frigid blue eyes stark and accusatory. A stark jaw and a sharp, rigid horn. An anomaly within a landscape of lovingly-carved and varnished oak and ash, of gold fittings and dark blue sapphires. Displaced and disaffected among elegant carpentered lines and warm colours. A suitable parallel with his position in court, the unicorn thought.
Princesses, but he hated his job. Blueblood II Polaris, Prince of Equestria, Duke of Canterlot, Duke of Rearingsburg, Marquess of Ostarrein, Count of Vladimare and Lord of Stalliongrad, Heir to the Platinum Line, hatefully considered his lot in life to be predestined; a path drawn out by his Aunt and his parents before his conception. Dull, pointless administrative work, filling the void between the ruling Princesses and the civil service. 'Filling the void' was his job description, for the lack of a better explanation, he drunkenly supposed, for that was what he did. And by Celestia, did he hate every second of it.
Appease the nobility. Oversee logistical measures. Attend gallery openings. Attend the Stable of Peers. Oversee the designing of ships by a stable of professional incompetents. Oversee exploration efforts. Attend court. Look handsome. Take the flak for royal faux pas. Become an icon of hatred. Do other inane bureaucratic paperwork. Bully secretaries. Bully underachievers. Bully foreign dignitaries as needed. Appease foreign dignitaries as needed. Resolve border disputes the Princesses can't be bothered to deal with. Bully dissenters. Appease dissenters. The list went on.
He longed for a much more prestigious - and a far less monotonous position, though knew not to push his position. Many in his House had fallen for less. Celestia, how he wished to be designing or onboard a battleship - or a carrier!, his thoughts intruded, or obliterating the whole of Eastern Griffonia! He had a soft spot for exploration too, but his lot in life was to watch people who were less brilliant than he inevitably mess up whilst being bound to his desk. Yes, he thought bemusedly, to be freed of incompetence, duty or bureaucratic constraint was my most desired hope, but knew that reality was not so kind so as to allow his dreams to come true.
The aspirations of his youth had betrayed him, and his lot was to, in effect, clean after the Princesses. It was his luck that found him inebriated in his royal quarters (the smallest of the lot, he bitterly considered) doing paperwork relating to farm (peasant) subsidies at two in the morning. It was a miracle, he thought, that he hadn't been murdered yet.
Fate, however, would not be kind to him, nor Equestria itself, as he would soon find out.
A sudden clatter and an onrush of volcanic light from his doorway. Blueblood instinctively flinched and instinctively, though haphazardly, pulled open his bottom drawer with his magic.
I'm ready for you! I may be drunk, but prepare to taste steel!
A weak telekinetic field wrapped itself around the hilt of a surprisingly well-maintained sword. Upon viewing his 'assailant', however, the Prince let the weapon clatter back into the drawer and dejectedly knocked it shut with a hoof. An assassination attempt would make his life more exciting, but it was not to happen. Fate had other ideas in store with regards to making the caustic Prince's life more interesting, however.
Blueblood's glazed eyes perceived a stout, grey unicorn bereft of a left ear and with dull steel bands running up his left foreleg standing in the now-open doorway to his chambers. Bedecked in a staff officer's uniform, gilded aiguillettes gleaming in the dim light, the unicorn cast a extensive shadow over the inebriated noble. The figure grumbled dryly at him.
"Sir."
General Sir Augustus Thunderclap was the Chief of the Equestrian General Staff, the seldom-seen professional head of the Equestrian military whose job it was to coordinate the deployment of the Guard around Equestria, plan for the worst, and show professional disappointment when the Guard would courageously, but inevitably, fail to defeat the foe that the cosmos would annually match against them. A laconic grey unicorn, Thunderclap did lack particularly high opinions of both his superiors and his inferiors, but would nonetheless willingly chew out anyone who was not acting up to scratch. One ignored him at one's own risk.
"Give me a moment, CEGS..", Blueblood drawled as he hastily attempted to sober and clean himself up in the space of five seconds. "What is it?"
"The Princesses are gone."
"Gone. Gone?!" Thunderclap is too serious to joke, especially at this hour, and to me...
"GONE, SIR. DISAPPEARED INTO THIN AIR. MISSING IN ACTION. ABSENT WITHOUT LEAVE; DESERTED THEIR POSTS. NOWHERE TO BE SEEN."
The officer took a deep breath and lowered his voice.
"Guardspony Grey Stratus went to check on Princess Luna in her observatory as usual, but she was missing; he reported it to the watch officer, who sent runners to find the other Princesses in their chambers - and they were missing, too. I was roused, mobilised the Guard in the Canterlot area and came to find you, sir."
Blueblood shuddered as he took in this information, grasping for breath and shaking his head in an attempt to clear the cloudiness. He reached for a glass of water and took a gulp before glancing back at the scarred officer.
What is one to do when the Princesses go missing?! "You have sent out scouts, messengers? How long has it been since this occurred?" Is this really all necessary, part of his mind started to itch.
"Scouting parties are turning the surrounding towns and hamlets upside down; couriers have been sent to mobilise detachments around Manehattan, Stalliongrad, Cloppenburg and the other major cities. It's been half an hour since Princess Luna disappeared without a trace, sir."
The grey unicorn caught the unease which had quickly darted across Blueblood's face.
"Your Highness, considering the similarity of this... occurrence with the incident which saw Princess Luna returned to us, we are fully warranted in mobilising all Royal Guard forces throughout Equestria, and in declaring a State of Emergency."
A state of emergency?! That'll just rile the dumb populace even more! Celestia knows how panicked they were after her disappearance a few years ago... Would they even accept a leader who wasn't an alicorn, though?
He nervously glanced up at Thunderclap's grim, ashen-faced visage. Then, a though struck him.
"Thunderclap, you said the Princesses were missing. Are Ca- Princesses Cadance and Twilight secured?"
"No, sir; as I said, all of the Princesses are missing."
It took a second for this information to filter through. A second, however, was all that was needed.
"My sister's sleeping with the Captain of the Guard and STILL she went missing?!" The white coated prince raged, alert and aware. He found his sister overly-enthusiastic about everything and her choice in a spouse despicable, but still held affection and cared - not that he would ever mention such to anypony. "Didn't the vaunted Shining Armor notice WHEN HIS WIFE DISAPPEARED INTO THIN AIR RIGHT NEXT TO HIM?!"
"Apparently not, sir. He's in a, erm.." The officer paused to formulate a properly polite continuation. "In a.. catatonic state, I believe. Incapable, sir. Unable to make head or tail of the situation, Your Highness. When we found him he was sleeping soundly; he lost his wits once he was fully roused. My informing him of the entire situation and of his sister's additional disappearance did not appear to help his condition, sir."
Blueblood's blue eyes bored into the unperturbed unicorn, and groaned.
His cynical - and somewhat paranoid mind - saw the hallmarks of... a plot. A plot! Against his person! They'd always hated him, and always knew he sought for greater things. Yes. A plot. They were going to humiliate him! Yes, humiliate him whilst they go off and party - he suppressed a shudder at this heretical and ignoble thought - and eat cake and do nothing and let him endure the punishment as Equestria crumbled! Once he had failed they'd trot in and restore order and throw him into an asylum or make him into the court fool or something! How better to remove the ugly reminder of the old Unicorn monarchs than to lay low its last heir (Cadance, he surmised, was an alicorn in appearance and ability, so she did not count)! But.. he could spring the trap. He knew of the plot now, and could work against it! Yes, he would show his quality in the days that came! But what if it wasn't a plot against him, but a plot against Equestria itself?! What if Equestria's monarchs had really been kidnapped - or worse!
If that was the case, then Equestria really was doomed. He, Prince Blueblood, despised of all Equestrians, would have to rule over a nation which had a distinct tendency to implode on occasion, regardless of whether it was being attacked by some monster, demon or malicious god-figure.
Blueblood, Prince Regent of Equestria. Blueblood the Unready; Blueblood the Accursed.
Blueblood the Bad? Too stereotypical; like a villain from some filly's fairy tale.
Blueblood the Beleaguered. That would fit.
What in the name of Celestia did I do deserve THIS?!
It was a miracle that it had ever gotten to this point, he thought to himself.
Equestria was a nation whose military was de facto ceremonial in function yet which had a budget that surpassed that of its strongest neighbours, the griffons. A nation which effectively relied upon a hoofful of ponies - six 'Elements of Harmony', his two aunts, his irritating sister and his imbecilic brother-in-law. To say that these ten were an impenetrable defence would be a gross exaggeration, too. Even in his wine-addled brain the Prince could recall with ease two incidents which had nearly brought the realm to heel. In one case, one of his aunts was possessed of some kind, and in a traitorous manner attempted to bring about eternal night. More recently, his other aunt was defeated by a changeling queen in an attack on Canterlot where the conventional military had been shattered in less than half an hour. He did not even wish to consider the other close escapes the nation had endured.
It was remarkable, therefore, that nopony had ever noticed that the Principality of Equestria's continued existence was an astonishing miracle and a complete defiance of acceptable political thinking - nay, a complete defiance of reality itself. A great cosmic joke, thought Blueblood, but then the embodiment of chaos itself, allegedly, has wreaked havoc upon our lands. The only thing missing from Equestria's gloried history was perhaps an assault by a singular Malignant Bee of Devastation, but the utter disappearance of the four co-monarchs in all probability topped the list.
Perhaps he was drunk; perhaps he was not. There was only one way to find out whether this was a childish prank or not.
"General Thunderclap. As heir presumptive to the throne of Equestria, I order you to answer my next question truthfully, on pain of treason and death. I have known you to be an honourable stallion, but I demand this of you nonetheless:"
"Is the moon moving?"
It was.
This, however, was not necessarily a good thing, as Blueblood remarked to himself, for it merely complicated the situation. Any prospective 'villain' who had succeeded in capturing the four reigning monarchs, or whatever they were, would surely know that it was in their interest to maintain a facade of normality in his target. Equestria would panic and overreact; once it had all calmed down and the interim government had collapsed or had let its guard down, then was the time to strike a decisive blow. It was what he'd do, after all, if he was planning a coup. Blueblood felt rather confident in this claim: after all, he had help plan a number of coups against foreign powers and often spent his time alone in his quarters - when he was not inebriated - indulging his fantasies in carrying out a coup. Not that he would, of course.
Of course.
The other option was not much better either. Whether it was a prank or whether it was intentional, it indicated that the Princesses were alive somewhere and fully capable of using their powers, but deliberately chose to leave, without a trace, in concert and at the same time in the middle of the night. Whilst the paranoid part of his brain did suggest it was a vile joke, and the deranged idealistic portion a trial of his ability, such conclusions did not help one bit as to relieving the situation.
He considered his options. Firstly, perhaps returning to that drunken stupor was the best course of action. 'Masterly inactivity', as Celestia put it, had served the country well: the entire continent had largely remained in a state of assorted technological stasis, and the lower classes as uneducated and apathetic as ever (though somewhat cleaner) and enemies came and went, usually through some great flank-pull of a triumph by some hero or heroine, like the stories of old. It could just merely be an isolated incident; perhaps the Princesses wished to be alone for a while - a sentiment he could understand. Alternatively, he could merely be too drunk as to tell the difference between an insane reverie and reality.
Leaning back against his chair, he knew what the far more uncomfortable choice was. He could 'do justice to your position, dear nephew', as his now-missing Aunt Celestia used to remark, in a slightly condescending tone that he found both harmful to his pride and yet something to be highly sentimental about. It would not be an easy task, not at all. He felt confident in at least pacifying his fellow nobles; the rest of Government, not so much. The Civil Service had exploded in size since Luna had returned; with Twilight Sparkle's elevation to royalty, the already-bloated force had doubled in size with an excessive number of needed yet undesired checks and oversights. Four Princesses and one Prince to deal with the inane paperwork and monotony of domestic administration were as needed as ever. The matter of the public had to be dealt with too, as much as he loathed them. If the press knew of this, then all manner of panic would have spread throughout the country; whilst he did have fond feelings for his homeland, Blueblood did not have much for its jumpy populace. There was also the foreign angle to consider, which he did not even wish to consider in the long run. The zebras chafed under disadvantageous border tariffs; warhawks in the Griffon government were always attempting to press claims upon the border colonies.
Then there was the need to 'ensure the family legacy', or more properly, 'ensure the realm's legacy'. Blueblood groaned and placed his head in his hooves.
Sleep it off, dear boy.
Equestria can wait for two hours or so.
Just.. tell Thunderclap to secure the other elements - and the actual element things. Amulets? Discreetly, of course. Yes. Can't disturb the populace, or I'll be dead in two days. Yeesss.
That would do. Masterly inactivity combined with some decisive action. Perhaps it'll be fine and resolve itself in two hours - Equestria was absurd like that. He yelled for his secretary.
"Inkwell? INKWELL!" he shouted out the door. "INKWELL, GET YOURSELF IN HERE, NOW!"
The startled bureaucrat stumbled, half-awake, from the chambers opposite from Blueblood's.
"Look here, Inkwell, I need you to do the following. The security of the realm depends upon it."
And my sanity.
Frayed Inkwell had the thankless task of being Prince Blueblood's primary secretary. As a qualified Guardsman, he was also responsible for the Prince's security, though he was very rarely needed for this function. A well-built but messy blue-grey unicorn, he shared his superior's cynical nature somewhat, though was far more prone to 'indiscretions' in public. Namely, indiscretions on the line of panic attacks as opposed to the indiscretions his superior was supposedly infamous for. Regardless, he to a point agreed with a statement Blueblood had memorably recalled to him once. There were allegedly two factions in Canterlot Castle: "sycophants" and "cynics". Presumably there were also cynical sycophants to add to this eclectic mixture, but the Prince was in a state of inebriation when regaling this tale and at such times it was difficult to tell whether he was being earnest or not. Then again, Inkwell reminded himself, it was difficult enough to tell whether the Prince was earnest at all, regardless of alcohol consumption. Ethanol in His Royal Highness' bloodstream merely made the task harder.
Such was a problem of working with an absolute flank-hole of a superior, alongside the supremely uncomfortable need to be at hoof at all times. Yet it was, Inkwell concluded, not a terrible job. The pay was quite reasonable for his position, though this was in part due to the number of sinecures which he had taken up after becoming Blueblood's Chief Secretary. He also fulfilled the non-sinecure positions of being Blueblood's de facto bodyguard and colt-servant. In a rare stroke of empathy Blueblood had allowed him to keep his sinecures after they had been found out. The sinecures, however, did not always make up for the rigours of serving the alleged-heir-to-the-throne. His Royal Highness demanded much from those serving him. Of his Chief Secretary and right-hoof-colt he merely demanded more.
Being roused at two-thirty in the morning, therefore, was not a particular difficulty nor was at all surprising to Inkwell. This did not stop him, however, from holding residual discontent at Blueblood's demands. He was not majorly surprised, either, at having to attend a provisional meeting with the CEGS and the Prince, the latter of whom wore the visible signs of one of those late-night drinking runs he had started to take regularly. The secretary stumbled through the doorway.
"Look here, Inkwell, I need you to do the following. The security of the realm depends upon it." Shuffling on a cloak telekinetically, the secretary stood to attention.
"And what is that, sir?"
"I'll need you to run around the Castle for quite a while. Fetch and carry." Blueblood rapidly explained. "You'll find out soon."
The said secretary was used to this delaying too, and resorted to fastening his cloak and staring at the wall with an expression of professional boredom upon his face. Asides from the usual indicators of discarded wine bottles, broken pens and discarded scraps of paper, it seemed to be a relatively normal night. It was sometimes remarkable that the Prince would be utterly alert four hours later, completely prepared for the daily council meetings.
Blueblood casually ignored his secretary, and instead turned and started to speak to the other stallion in the room, General Thunderclap.
"Firstly, CEGS," Blueblood said, before noticing the mild distaste on the officer's face, "Thunderclap. I need you to send a detachment of your best guardsponies to Ponyville. Secure the other Elements, but be discreet! We cannot risk stirring up panic in that settlement of hypochondriacs."
Blueblood paused, and tapped a hoof against his chin as if in thought.
"May I advise that you take care in securing the erm. Eh. The white unicorn and the blue pegasus. The golddigger and the Wonderbolts-wannabe. Uh.." The Prince appeared to wrack his brain for the names of those Elements before giving up, and looked to his secretary. "Inkwell! What are they called?! The one that stalked me at the 'Gala and the one that demolished the Ballroom?" The Prince reflexively shuddered to consider the mares upon which national security was anchored.
"Rarity and Rainbow Dash, sir" Inkwell offered. "The Elements of Generosity and Loyalty, respectively, sir. Rarity followed you around the Grand Galloping Gala and you used her as a barrier against a massive flying cake, after which she splattered you with confectionary material. You then tripped and slipped and knocked over an unsecured statue, which Rainbow Dash promptly attempted to hold upright. She failed, and started accidentally knocked into another statue, causing a domino effect and the consequent destruction of the ballroom. Damage costs were unprecedented. However, I would like to point out that Princess Celestia did not entirely attribute the damage to the Grand Ballroom as being wholly the fault of Ms. Dash, rather..."
The General merely inclined his head towards the secretary in a minute gesture of gratitude.
"Yes, thank you Inkwell," remarked Blueblood monotonously, cutting off his secretary. He continued,
"Thunderclap, as I was saying, of the... unstable ponies that make up the Elements those two are the worst. Especially the former. Princesses!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "You may need to give the lads earplugs. And possibly opiates afterwards. And a pay rise, definitely. Absolutely terrifying. Worse than an entire company of Griffon screamers. Once you've convinced them to come to Canterlot, stick them in some highly-secure wing of the Palace - preferably soundproof - and put a double-guard on their chambers. Do not let them out. Do NOT."
Silently observing from the side, Inkwell had the distinct impression that his superior ordered as such primarily as to prevent the Elements from reaching him than any threats from reaching the Elements. To a point, he agreed, but part of him wanted to see the old colt squirm and rave.
Thunderclap stood to attention and saluted, with Blueblood returning the gesture in a somewhat-drunkenly, then marched out of the room. Satisfied, the Prince turned his icy blue eyes towards his evidently-tired secretary.
"Close the door, Inkwell. What I am about to say to you is in my utmost confidence in your loyalty to myself and the realm. Not a word to anypony." Inkwell raised an eye at this statement, but nodded confirmation and closed the door with his telekinesis off-hoofedly. Cloak-and-dagger scheming was of the norm in the civil service, even if on occasion the methods and results utilised were wholly unsuited to such intrigue. It made life somewhat more tolerable and interesting amongst the soulless gold fittings and marble ornaments. Inkwell's eyebrow twitched. His Royal Ponciness was surprisingly lucid at this time of day, despite the stark indicators to the contrary.
Has he found his voice tonight? The secretary was bemused by these developments, though remained wary. There was always a threat - and deeply pragmatic competence - in that mind, regardless of external appearance.
Blueblood continued. "The Princesses are gone - where, I have absolutely no idea. I will have to lead Equestria, but regardless, the realm will bleed." This was a shock, and Inkwell stared at his superior. The civil service had adjusted to the fact that marauding evils would plague Equestria, but never considered that any force would be so powerful or daring to successfully decapitate the state in a single evening. Ignorant to his secretary's agitation, Blueblood carried on.
"Until we find the Princesses, it is a matter of survival. I do not intend to die, and I am sure you do not either. Inkwell. I need to know everything, do you understand? Everything. Inkwell?"
Perhaps he had underestimated his superior's mettle. He had known Blueblood for years, and had known that he feigned incompetence (in more ways than one, his mind chuckled) in public. He knew Blueblood was a bureaucrat (amongst other, more unsavoury titles which all but a few knew nothing about) and had some leadership qualities, but not this. The heads of department would be killing themselves, literally.
"I need reports, information, anything, Inkwell. Use my seal - or the diarchs' or whatever it's called now seal - to get access to every department in the entire Castle - and do not let on to the situation."
That was definitely extraordinary - a complete violation of all known precedent! And the Princesses were gone too! Inkwell blabbered, trying to form a coherent response whilst figuring out a plan of action. "How?! I'm your Primary Secretary!"
"Exactly!" Blueblood demanded vigorously. "You're my Primary Secretary! FIND A WAY!" Blueblood seemed to have enough and stood up. The civil servant withered under the noble's judging glare.
"How, sir?!"
Blueblood took a deep breath.
"Look here, Frayed Inkwell. I need you stay calm, and your duty. I trust you, Inkwell; do this for myself, do it for the realm, do it for the Princesses - whatever makes you feel better. I need to know everything that is going on and has gone on for the past week."
Perhaps it would be best to ignore the consequences. Besides, such praise and responsibility was unprecedented, Inkwell thought. Perhaps waking at such an ungodly hour did earn its rewards. Serving with the de facto monarch of all Equestria could serve him well.
"Oh, and Inkwell? Once you've done that wake me up in about... two hours."
Inkwell merely shook his head and walked out the room.
The developments were concerning. His head rang once more, his vision started to cloud over, and Blueblood failed to sufficiently grasp the implications of what he had heard in the past minutes, or at least, to his own liking. Sleep would be a commodity he would find scarce in the upcoming months, though his work was not done yet. There was one more task left to do before the break of dawn, and before the inevitable public onslaught.
"Who could one rely on?" Blueblood mumbled to himself. It helped him to sleep knowing one's enemies and allies, and the sheer banality of it all irked him to no end.
Inkwell was always reliable, but unimaginative and literal most of the time. Un-ambitious. Loyal.
His under-secretary, Golden Letter, was ambitious. However, she did have a moral compass, which he could perhaps exploit. There was some romanticism there, too. Relatively loyal.
Thunderclap. CEGS. A patriot; would support rule if it benefitted Equestria. Old ally in the Council; dependable, especially in times of war.
Argent Typhoon, Lord High Steward. Old friend; leading pegasus commander in the Guard. Politically and militarily able. Connections with the Navy; former dab hoof at the Navy Office. Utterly loyal?
There were others in the Royal Council, of course, but one could only judge them so far. One could not be everywhere, nor know everything, one could not cling to their loyalties permanently.
Serene Bloom, the Lady High Chancellor. Capable and very close to Cadance, warm in the relatively rare conversations they had.
Then there was the Lady High Chamberlain, other prospective heads of departments and senior officers, all of whom were decent ponies, but of these names one in particular stood out.
Shining Armor. The Great Enemy. The brother-in-law. Would staunchly oppose rule but strongly support finding the Princesses. As of yet controls much of the Canterlotian Guard. May be removed in favour of Typhoon? There was a desperate option, though. Make peace?
There was another unicorn of note, though, one outside of the Royal Household and Administration.
Fancypants. Ambitious but to an extent an ally. Favours the status quo. Controls the golddigging upper classes; a useful ally.
Then there were Equestria's most valuable and most volatile assets.
The Elements. Recalcitrant; hated him. Irritating. Unpredictable. Wildcards.
Blueblood tiredly sighed and rose. He strangely found he could not sleep, despite the alcohol and the new burdens put placed upon sagging shoulders. He walked towards the window; Thunderclap had irksomely left one of the curtains loose. Before he could close the thick, red sheets a sight caught his eyes. He turned to face it. Slowly, carefully, Blueblood took in Canterlot and Equestria in its glory. Were it not for the chaos that were to ensue, Blueblood would have marvelled at the abnormal beauty of the sight. Dim lights dotting throughout the lower town; the moon's silver reflection glazing over the gentle curves and sleek spires of the city. Gentle wisps drifting across verdant farmland. Pinpricked clusters of stars majestically scattered over a rich, dark sky. Soft shadows slicing across alabaster and marble.
And yet, for once, he had a distinct sensation of clarity.
Equestria needs you, Aunt Celestia. Somepony with the experience, with the tolerance and ability. I won't be able to hold this heap together for even a week.
If he hated his old job, he hated his new one even more. Von Hoofwitz would have fainted at such odds. He did not particularly care for any of the Princesses with the exception of Cadance, he reflected. The other three he respected, yes. It was that, he assured himself, that lay behind his desire for them to return.
Knowing my luck, it'll all blow up tomorrow morning. Might be for the better then. Our enemies will be on their backs laughing, utterly incapable of attacking.
That was not a reliable strategy, though. But without the Princesses, Equestria was deprived of protection; it lost a shield, a deterrent and its upper leadership in the blink of an eye.
Accursed dreams. It will be an utter nightmare in the months to come. A slow, tortured death surrounded by insane fools and backstabbing lunatics. Not like this.
And as much he loathed Equestria and its people, Blueblood remised, he felt strangely beholden to remain at his post. Ethics and honour had become abstract, bizarre concepts to him over the years. He loathed and admired himself for having developed such an attitude in such a short period of time, and, irritatingly, knew not why.
Perhaps it was pride; perhaps it was the family legacy. Perhaps it was out of some quixotic sense of honour; perhaps it was sheer stubbornness. Stubbornness he could understand. It was the only thing he'd openly respected earth ponies for. Stubbornness would help.
What was that tale my father used to tell? Of the King and the sword he had suspended above his head with a single hair? How does one cope with that? How does one cope when one's previous burdens are but a drop in the ocean of one's new?
Perhaps it was simply because of that accursed mark on his flank.
I'll stay at the wheel, no matter the cost, but you had better return. All Equestria depends upon it. Even the strongest steel buckles eventually, and I have far from the strongest.
He glanced back at his desk and saw the paperwork regarding agricultural subsidies. He allowed himself a small smile and threw the accursed sheets into an ornately decorated willow tray labelled 'Low (no) priority'. Enough of that garbage.
He had spent many nights stargazing; tonight was nothing special. In that fraction of a second had stopped thinking about politics, or any of the princesses, he reflected; his eyes had finally, and solely, gazed upon Equestria in all its glory and wonder. An achievement not to the Princesses, but to the equine races themselves.
Captains did not abandon ship.
Might as well be me; who else could take the fall? Beleaguered indeed.
The new Captain-in-Chief resolved that he would not abandon his.
The first dawn of the day of Blueblood's reign as Regent was met with a lack of distinct ceremony. It was at least, Blueblood thought, a relief that it dawned at all, considering the situation Canterlot Castle found itself in. The Castle was completely locked down, and its occupants all in a manic state, though none was as frustrated as the unwilling ruler of three races of equines.
"Inkwell. When I said I wished to know everything, I did not mean literally everything."
"I... I thought it best to fulfil your demand to the best of my ability, Prince Blueblood. Besides, I did not know what you needed to know, Highness."
This was the type of situation Celestia would love to think up, Blueblood thought. In front of him lay stacks and stacks of reports - and other stacks littered his rooms. The Prince lazily lifted up a cream-coloured file and opened it up with his telekinesis.
"Yesterday's kitchen inventory, Inkwell?" Blueblood looked over the rim of the folder with a perfect expression that sat somewhere between disappointment and irritation. The types of idiocy one had to deal with sometimes were an astounding damnation of the equine races.
"Perhaps the Princesses' disappearance had to do with what they ate?" the hapless secretary offered eagerly. The stare intensified.
"Inkwell," Blueblood said as he carelessly tossed the file to the side, "I ate the same as them yesterday."
The secretary mustered up a response and replied, grinning weakly. "With all due respect sir, you aren't... an alicorn, sir."
"Thank you, Inkwell..."
Blueblood sighed and placed his head on his desk, a signal which Inkwell took as a dismissal. He would need to find some time to read through all these scraps of paper to determine what was important and what was not. Perhaps bureaucratic reform was in order, he wished. Blueblood reflected upon his first three hours as Prince Regent. Nary an hour into his nap the Mistress of the Robes had run into his chambers, screaming alarums, until a sentry outside dragged the crazed mare out of his rooms. The entire Castle had soon found out about the disaster that had befallen them, yet Thunderclap and the Officer of the Watch had worked miracles in damage control within the Castle at least. The Comedies of the Ancient Pegasi were petty puns in the face of his situation. How the sages of old would wish to have thought of this! His mind drifted to the other occupants of the Castle - the military. The guards had shown remarkable stoicism about the situation, but then again, Blueblood thought, stoicism in the face of Tartarus itself was the only function they performed admirably at. Stoicism which he was at times capable of performing, but which he believed was utterly lacking on the inside.
As such, it was utterly inexplicable how easily he had accepted the role of Regent of Equestria. One did not immediately reverse one's view upon the entire world and one's philosophies in a single experience. He loathed the title, loathed the associated duties and loathed the population in general, yet, to his own disbelief, had not instantaneously 'chickened out' as the foals would call it. He had dreamed of becoming a King, but not over this wretched heap. There it was! He still hated the accursed country and his accursed inferiors; he had not succumbed to insanity yet. He didn't want the job and wanted the Princesses back, now, but unfathomably had not collapsed in a frenzied, terrified heap nor had the intent to drive it through Tartarus and back. Not yet, at least.
Every minute made their absence worse. Blueblood steeled himself, and picked up the next file in the pile, and flipped it open. Agricultural Report - Ponyville. Swallowing, the Prince read on. But as he read, a disturbing itch scratched at his thoughts. The niggling thought that this was permanent; that the burden of leadership would fall upon his shoulders for the next forty or more years. He needed clearance, and as boring agricultural reports were, he could not. A glance at the clock. Now was as best a time as any. He stood up, stretched, and made his way to the Great State Rooms - the Council Chambers.
The first major event of the day was a meeting of the Royal Council, devoid of four of its members. Four of its most esteemed members: the four alicorn princesses. Blueblood arrived half an hour early, as he always did. Entering the empty hall, with the sun peeking through the curtains, he slowly crept towards the seat positioned at the far end of the room. A cool breeze fluttered through the windows, gently brushing at the Prince's golden mane.
After Luna's return both Celestia and Luna attended Royal Councils together, most of the time. On the occasion that one of the diarchs was not present, the present diarch's throne would be moved to the head of the table, alone. Each throne had been intricately and delicately decorated, each a stark contrast to the other. When Cadance and Twilight were elevated to a similar status, they had received such thrones of their own - though the thrones of the original diarchs were by far the most imposing pieces of furniture in that room.
Celestia's chair - solar motifs and all - was at the head of the table that morning.
Every inevitable step closer to that chair heightened Blueblood's trepidation twofold. He brushed past his own chair - the traditional seat of the Unicorn Princes. It was hard enough to take his father's place, despite the training he had prior, despite the schooling. His father was already old when he was born; it was no surprise, then, that Blueblood took the Unicorn throne at an unprecedented low age.
He had always resented Cadance for that. She had the calmer, less strenuous childhood. After her elevation to Princess, he always wished he could spit his years of service in her face every time she quasi-complained about her workload. The accursed bureaucratic reforms had not helped; the monotonous work seemed to teleport to his office desk regularly. A most princely task indeed.
He could still remember the tales of the days of old - before Celestia and Luna. How it took three - and sometimes six - ponies to keep the equine races together.
How would one unicorn do it alone now?
Advisors would always be advisors; they could not be crowned. The dumb populace had always preferred tradition over rationality. It was a false hope to believe that the Chancellor and the Lord Commander of Cloudsdale could be elevated to the positions Puddinghead and Hurricane had once held. The people had come to tolerate, nay demand, rule by divine right.
Part of him wanted to laugh at them now. They would all have opposed his sitting in this chair regardless of the situation. How he desired to spite them, spite their memories and their opinions of himself. It made it easier to approach that chair.
He stared at it for a minute before finally approaching it. Carefully, delicately, he lowered himself into it. It seemed effortless at first. It was just a chair, same as any other. It was even comfortable. Until he remembered.
From this seat Equestria was ruled for countless years.
From its height the Prince looked out over the Council room, and felt distinctly inferior. He had always felt inferior in this room, but today was different. He was infinitesimal in comparison to those who had come before him. He considered himself capable, but no ordinary pony would be capable enough. Not being an alicorn of his Aunts' size, and crushed by the legacy of over a thousand years of good government, Blueblood shrank further within himself. It was an unbearable burden for one unicorn alone, he tried to console himself, but failed. The public's perception was no longer a concern, no his place in history. His mind was set on a record of failure upon repeated failure.
Blueblood sat on that honoured throne, and wept.
Stats
Page generated in 0.028 seconds
Total duration
1,038 users online
1,493,681 hits today, 1,822,946 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Somepony give that prince a hug. I think he really needs one.
That first part, where he thinks about his lot in life and how it was inescapable that he would do a job he's not interested in with very little prestige (and apparently at least somewhat deliberately put into a hated position, even if he is acerbic anyway) while the other princesses get cushy positions that, while they have a lot of responsibility, also have prestige, makes me angry. I doubt he's seeing the whole picture, but it does give me the outrage.
Definitely glad the second half of the chapter is there, helping to round out the issues and move things forward a bit.
"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em."
A few editorial notes, if you don't mind...
Implode is to collapse in on one's self, to contract. It's the opposite of explode, which is to expand.
Missing a word there.
I believe you meant "irked" there.
I think Blueblood works better as the Duke of Equestria and the Prince of Canterlot. Canterlot is stated to be a kingdom by one of the Flim Flam brothers.
Also, the expanded universe makes Cadance out to be a former pegasus that Celestia found and ascended into Alicornship. Maybe she could be Blueblood's adopted sister for those that like incorporating such things.
Hello all, thanks for the comments. I greatly appreciate it.
To address some concerns/suggestions:
4731310
He's an entitled jerk no matter what, and not the most skilled at looking at others' perspectives. He does in that case underestimate the work the Princesses do and overestimate his own burdens. He got himself in such a situation because of his personality and his abilities, so he's probably as much to blame as anyone else. Also, he's somewhat drunk, and Inkwell briefly comments that Blueblood's been going on self-indulgent alcoholic binges recently.
He should get better.
4731494
Thanks for pointing those out, I'll probably edit in corrections when I next update the fic.
4732500
Canterlot's a kingdom?
In the course of things those titles don't really matter - his titles are by and large meaningless, though I may expand on them/make them more than courtesy titles in the future.
The courtesy titles are part of his gripe with the Princesses.
About Cadance, I did not know about her origin story (from a book, a cursory glance at TVTropes indicates). Again, it's of minor consequence as she probably isn't showing up, but I'll consider it.
Just a point on future updates - I'll be away for at least two weeks and I'm not sure about whether I'll have access to decent and stable internet in the mean time. I should be able to continue writing, but no promises.
Oh this looks to be good.
The dialogue and inner monologue in this first chapter is great, had me laughing out loud more than once. And I love political intrigue, so I'm all over this story.
how poetic, if onöly the elected of the hear and now could experience this?