Consequentially Yours
It was quite possible that all the ponies in town were crazy. Fleur hadn't come anywhere close to meeting all of them, but she was willing to take the encountered segment as a representative sample and if that was the case, there were two possibilities for coming across local sanity: slim and none. The usual joke would have been that 'slim' had left town shortly before her arrival and if it hadn't, then it was probably on the outbound now. Just seeing the approaching, teetering, inevitable-but-still-looking-for-a-place-to-happen approach of Blueblood's spire would inspire a sane pony to retreat.
Which went a long way towards explaining why so many of the crazy ones were following her.
...well, it wasn't just her. Fleur could usually get ponies to trail in her wake with an expert tail swish. With Fluttershy moving next to the unicorn's right flank... the fuller tail really didn't know how to swish, but there were ponies who longed for the day its owner might inadvertently put it through a proper bobble. And she supposed there might even be somepony in the growing crowd who was curious about Caramel, although most of that potential probably would have been ruined at the moment they heard him talking.
"...and I know I was at the party, but nopony ever went into your place. So I couldn't be sure which one it was. There's times when Pinkie even holds the welcome party on a different street, or in another neighborhood. If there's a lot of seniors in the area, or ponies working the wrong shift. The ones who need quiet. Anyway, that's what you picked out?"
He mercifully hesitated, and the mercy didn't last long enough.
With open concern, "Did anypony tell you it was haunted?"
She ignored that.
Crazy. Ponies were a herd species, or trio of same: one where the majority of members typically responded to danger through not being there when it happened. Where one fled, there was the chance for all to break. And yet here they were, Fleur and Fluttershy (with an adjacent Caramel) steadily trotting towards the approaching spire, with what was now dozens of settled zone residents trailing in their wake. And ponies just about never moved towards flame...
...unless they believed there was no danger at all.
Fleur was internally comparing the current situation to... fireworks.
Why did ponies enjoy fireworks at all, when they were watching a combination of two things which could cause them to run? A burst of powerful light, the booming explosion which echoed across the landscape -- if you only knew a little about ponies, you would expect the most minor display of pyrotechnics to do nothing more than serve as the starting signal for a race. Judging exactly who finished first would be impossible, because no two competitors would be running in exactly the same direction.
But ponies understood fireworks to be nothing more than a show. Yes, there was often too much light, and that level of sound being created close-up could put instincts into overdrive -- but it was all happening a long way off. Even for the pegasi, everything was taking place so far above them as to be no threat at all. You could just sit back and relax. Take it all in, and tell yourself it was a sign of bravery because you were clearly so good at resisting things which were no threat whatsoever. Combine that with what had happened just before the spire had been spotted: the tendency of the species to gather around what it saw as street theater...
The lead players had already been chosen. Some kind of plot was clearly being advanced. And because ponies were crazy, they had decided that not being directly involved in the story made them immune. Oh, you had to keep an eye on that one piece of the set which seemed to have been assembled by committee, and there was always the chance for somepony to overhear the kind of word they hadn't been expecting: all blame would immediately be assigned to the performers, and complaints would always be filed. Somewhere.
But the closer they got, the more ponies they had following them. (Fleur had already been wondering about exactly how much of the settled zone had the day off.) Because this was the lure: there was something interesting about to take place, and the most important aspect was that none of it would happen to you.
Fireworks could go off-course.
"...why are we going towards him?"
It was a reasonable question and when it came from her charge, it still made Fleur want to sigh. (She didn't. There were too many witnesses, and she had to make sure they knew she was in control at all times.) "Because he has to be dealt with. You turned him down, and he decided not to understand that. He's got a unidirectional vocabulary."
Caramel's "What?" emerged exactly on cue.
"He usually only understands what 'no' means on the outbound." A little more quickly, "Socially. The most he's ever tried to do with a mare is kissing somepony who didn't want to be kissed, and just seeing them pull back confuses him so much, he decides they aren't actually ponies."
"...aren't... actually..." Fluttershy managed.
"I think somepony almost managed to explain changelings to him at one point. So if you aren't attracted to him, you must be a bug." Fleur slowly shook her head, making sure to keep the movements measured. Controlled. "Which would mean every mare escort in Canterlot secretly has holes in their legs. He would probably wonder about the total infiltration of one profession, if he was capable of wondering at all..."
Caramel, however, might have been thinking about the possibility of a partner who could manifest wings at will: the internal distraction almost had him veer into Fleur's other flank. "Were there any? Changeling escorts?"
Another head shake. Fleur understood exactly how much information was available to a careful escort, even one who was operating without her talent. It was something which had initially begged the question of why there hadn't been dozens of hidden insects sitting through classes -- but then she'd learned how their magic actually worked. "They fool the senses. That mostly means sight and hearing. Touch is supposed to be a lot harder. Being an escort means a lot of casual contact. From what everypony says, it's only the best ones who can simulate flesh, they'd have to keep it up in their sleep, and no matter what they can make you think -- they can't fool your body, Caramel."
"Body," he carefully echoed -- then, much more reluctantly, "I don't get it."
"You don't want it," Fleur firmly stated. "Because no matter what they're telling your mind it feels like, it's still chitin."
The stallion blinked. His back legs tried to, and almost succeeded in, finding a way of protectively curling inwards.
"...oh," he half-whispered.
"I'm guessing just about none of them ever had sex," the escort finished. "There's only a few situations where they would have been able to casually explain away their partner's scratches. Fluttershy, this is an infestation. He's decided to make an impression on you, at the source. We need to clear him out."
She could just about feel her charge trying to glance at Caramel: the height discrepancy meant the pegasus was mostly trying to do so through Fleur's chin. "...so you want me to... reject him? I... I think I can try..."
"No."
The single syllable had been definitive. It had also been fairly loud, and so Fleur got to take a fresh estimate of the crowd size as measured in stares burrowing into her fur.
"...no?" Fluttershy tried. "But I don't want him. I told you about the Gala, about what he did to Rarity. He's horrible. If I don't push him away..."
"And I told you about how he's treated when it comes to new escorts." She looked towards Caramel for a moment: he didn't have this particular piece of information, and the audience would also have to be filled in. "As one of the last tests. You can walk out on him at any time. But it's partially about how you do it. How long you can hang on before that, and the means you choose to keep him from thinking about asking for you again." Back to her charge. "I was hoping the note would do it this time around, but it looks like he needs something more personal. Blueblood is the advanced class, Fluttershy. You're not up to it yet."
And when your charge can't do something...
...when you know she won't be able to...
It was what having a charge meant. They were under your direction. They relied on you for just about everything, because they couldn't survive on their own. You tried to bring them forward. Provided lessons, making sure they understood how the world worked.
You... tried to bring them to the point where they could go on without you.
But Fluttershy wasn't ready for this. And if her charge was incapable of managing a situation, was likely to get hurt simply through trying...
"I'll do it," Fleur told the pegasus.
"...but..." emerged with a very light note of rather unexpected protest, and the unicorn briefly felt the warmth of pride again.
"I'll direct it," the escort clarified. "I'll do just about all of the talking. But I'm going to need your help." Her pace quickened: over a hundred ponies scrambled to match the new rate. "All I can give him is the verbal setup. Actually making some of it happen is your responsibility."
The pause stretched out, as they moved towards the looming shadow. Fleur heard several new sets of curious hooves join the mobile audience, risked a glance back.
And now we've got Flankington. Bitterly, I'd add lunch to the plan if there was some way to guarantee that Blueblood was the only one who'd have to eat it. And I think that's the stallion who's got that pointless shop, and that's -- the bookseller? She focused a little more. I think her name was -- yes, that's her: I see the cockatiel. You can't miss a spread of wings like that, especially in green and gold. Riding on top of her -- Bluestocking's? -- head, proud as anything. And there we have --
She didn't blink. She made a very deliberate point of not blinking. But she didn't look for too long either, because she suspected the newest arrival didn't handle pressure well and the weight of a gaze might be enough to drive the earth pony mare away.
-- Sweetbark.
...well, it's not as if her office has all that much time open to begin with. Add all of the leftovers together and she practically has the majority of her days off. She's got nothing better to do than watch. Compared to what happens at the cottage, every last hour Fluttershy has to put in --
-- Sweetbark is in this crowd. In an audience...
No. She had to prioritize for Blueblood. The annoyance first: the ongoing irritation could wait for another day.
"...making... it happen," Fluttershy finally said. "Making what happen?"
The unicorn's smile was a pretty one: it had to be, and a great deal of practice had gone into making it so. It was also extremely thin.
She told them. Just them, making sure her words were pitched too low to reach the audience, and the groan of disappointment rose accordingly.
It was an escort's trick, really. You saved the best part for the end.
They intercepted the cart at the edge of town. Based on its overall facing, Fleur was fairly certain that the servants had been given directions to the cottage and judging by the path, they'd been taking the long way around. Looking for the single smoothest track, which would have been a lot harder once they crossed the bridge and started moving down cobblestone streets. The dirt roads leading to the fringe were actually somewhat more forgiving. And as for how they'd even gotten the whole thing down Canterlot's slopes...
The cart at the base of the spire wasn't as broad as Fleur would have liked. She'd been hoping for a little more in the way of measurements, a stronger support -- but when it came to Blueblood, the results were going to be just about one-dimensional.
There was a group of servants pulling the whole thing: an eight-pony hitch (or if you were trying to impress the Algonquin, a pair of quadrems). Heavily sweating, visibly tired earth ponies, because the extra strength only went so far. They had a tendency to glance up and back a lot, because there was a shadow looming over them and ideally, they really wanted it to stay there.
Still more servants trotted alongside the cart. The majority of that exhausted dozen were unicorns, and they too had their eyes on the blocked portion of sky. At frequent intervals, a horn would ignite, and a quick prop and push from the manifested corona would postpone collapse for just a little longer. There were also a few pegasi, because manual adjustments to the spire had their points -- but the mere act of flight created some amount of wind. Nopony was willing to risk that for very long -- or take chances with what the weather schedule might do to the collection through a single prearranged gust. It meant the pegasi mostly stayed at a fair distance out, making sure any atmospheric disturbance which approached the pile was neutralized.
They were nearly all wiped out. Fleur could see the first signs of froth in their coats, and they still had to make the trip back.
There were two exceptions to that exhausted state.
One was a unicorn stallion, and he would have stood out simply for having what was just about the shoddiest coat Fleur had ever seen. His fur couldn't pick a length, the mostly-grey fur featured too many single strands of other colors, and he had ear hairs curving in directions which she was fairly sure didn't normally exist. On the whole, he mostly looked like somepony who'd heard that Nightmare Night was about making grooming equipment suppliers flee in terror, and had promptly decided that a single holiday evening just wasn't enough. Add all of that to what might have been the worst pony posture in history and a spine which was doing its best to cave in on itself, and he could accurately be described as a sight for sore eyes. Just looking at him too long made Fleur's eyes hurt.
He did have two positive qualities. The shoddy stallion clearly had the strongest field in the group: a single glance at any unstable point on the spire would see flickering red bring it back to being a potential collapse. And he'd brought something to read: the saddlebags might have been unbalanced and hideous, but the full one had a book peeking just past the lid. It was probably the only book anywhere near the spire, because the white unicorn stallion who was riding on a second cart thought of reading in the same way he thought of anything else: with great reluctance and going out of his way to avoid any true thought at all.
Most of the mares in the audience were dreamily gazing at that resting stallion, along with some of the males. It was admittedly hard to look away, at least when you were seeing him for the first time. His grooming was excellent. The posture was superior. There was a tendency for his teeth to sparkle, at least when Sun didn't flash off them in a way which threatened to blind. Light seemed to meet his form with a near-audible ping! and then fled the other way, as if unsure as to whether it was worthy of illuminating such perfection.
There were three ponies in front of the audience (and he took the audience as his due): that clearly made them the important ones. But he looked down at Caramel, and found nothing worthy of even momentary acknowledgement. Then he moved on to Fleur, and the sturdy forehead almost creased. It was rather like seeing a pony who'd been considering whether to potentially remember something before deciding it just wasn't worth the effort.
But then he looked at Fluttershy.
He smiled.
There were six thumps. Five of them represented mares, the heavier sound had probably come from a stallion, and the audience politely made space around the swooned.
"Were you told about me?" he asked in that singular voice: something which had a sort of wealth dancing in and out of the tones, and that verbal opulence would be one of the first things to go. "About how proximity to my handsomeness might bring out your truest beauty?"
Two more ponies went down.
The white unicorn stallion squinted a little.
"Which might take some work," he decided.
One mare's fast-folding knees audibly snapped straight. It was also possible to make out fast-pounding hooves, racing in from the left.
"But I have been told your type is currently desirable," came the sniff. "Which naturally means that I have decided to desire it."
He stood up. A traveling cloak dramatically flared about his body in a way which created multiple reveals, just before snatching them away again. Fleur took a moment for reluctantly admiring that. You could find things to admire about the stallion, as long as you had a clear path to the nearest full water trough. Or, if you'd been doing it too long, an empty one.
"I am Prince Vladimir Blueblood," he announced. "And a lesser stallion would say that he has come to court you --"
" -- a Prince without wings!" blasted into Fleur's left ear, and a fast-slipping accent ground against startled pony minds. "Without true station, without thought, without caring or empathy or a single one of the virtues, not one, and I would know!" With every word jarred out by the impact of pounding, racing legs against the ground, "I counted every lack, through an endless night at your flank! Unable to give, to tell a truth, to be kind or loyal or laugh in any way other than the cruel, and if you had any true magic, the illusion of your being anything other than a parasite never would have broken!"
...oh no...
Fleur didn't facehoof. There was no point. There were also far too many witnesses, even if just about all of them were currently turning towards the left. Even Blueblood's attention had been roused, if only to see where all the noise was coming from. And Fleur, who hadn't bothered to look towards the source, saw something like that near-crease of the forehead again --
-- followed by, if only by a degree or two, the first hint of pulling back.
She'd never seen him pull back. She wasn't sure anypony ever had.
...actually, she just might be able to save me the trouble.
The escort kept her silence. Bitches were known to have a limited number of uses and when it came to expending them as ammunition, this particular galloping missile was self-guiding.
The new mare pulled up to an abrupt stop, hooves skidding to a halt near Fluttershy. Sweat flew from the saturated fur of a unicorn who wasn't meant for long gallops and had still gone full-speed all the way from the Boutique. Several curls came apart and for their possessor, all went unnoticed. Two very full embroidered saddlebags jingled or, given what was within, clanged.
Everypony was staring at her now. This included the servants, and the shoddy stallion was frowning a little. That one leaned slightly to one side or rather, allowed his body to exaggerate the lean it already had. The book slipped out a little more, to the point where Fleur could just about spot the topmost row of lettering --
-- did that lettering just -- crinkle?
"A falsehood, a trotting travesty of such strength as to corrupt the very nature of beauty itself!" the bitch spat. "Once anypony gets close enough to understand what lurks beneath your skin! But I know the truth, and you are in my territory now, are you not?" Every fur strand was shaking with outrage, and eyelash glue surrendered to the vibrations: two black arcs dropped into the dirt. "Mine. And before I allow anything more than your shadow to fall across my own land --"
"-- who are you?"
The tone had been openly bored. It often was, as being interested in something required the intellect to recognize it as important: a requirement which meant Blueblood was mostly wrapped up in himself. But it had also been a rather open and, for what Fleur almost felt might be the first time, rather transparent lie.
...well, it was transparent to her, and she knew the bitch had recognized its nature. The audience was mostly murmuring to itself: something which was almost loud enough to cover the fast-approaching sound of desperate wings.
The dressmaker's sweat-soaked fur was now standing out in all directions. It made her look somewhat larger than she was and for grooming, it still put her ahead of the shoddy stallion.
"Who am I? You have already recalled me, sirrah, and I use even that title as a lie! You had me sacrifice a dress for the comfort of your delicate hooves! You insulted the cooking of a dear friend, simply because there is nothing in you which can tolerate the slightest bit of love in craft, much less a hint of ginger!" And as the horn ignited, with forehooves pawing at the road, "You used me as a shield! AGAINST CAKE!"
He still looked bored. It was just that he now looked bored on a twenty-degree backwards lean.
"Cake Shield?" Blueblood casually inquired. "Is that your name? So that white stuff sliding from your fur would be frosting?"
The mare's eyes widened. Narrowed, as the corona surged to another level of intensity.
"...oh, no," Fluttershy whispered. "Rarity, don't, please don't, I know you want to but --"
Glowing saddlebag lids opened.
"I am quite aware of what murder is," Rarity far-too-evenly stated. "And why you would consider it to be a failing were I to commit the act at this time. After all, any jury which had met him and therefore understood would no longer be neutral."
The sound of frantic wingbeats was much closer now.
"...yes. It's okay to yell. I understand, because it was bad for all of us. The Princess only told me about that counterspell on the grounds after, because there's been ponies with subsets of my talent and they had to make sure none of them could ever turn the garden residents against the palace. I was so upset, and it was bad for all of us that night... but you might have had the worst of it, I think you did, but you can't just --"
More than a hundred pieces of thin, blue-coated metal rose into the air.
"So I brought the blunted needles," Rarity peacefully said. "To keep his blood from staining our soil, because there would be a rather nasty color contrast and at any rate, I suspect it has some acidic qualities."
There were multiple unicorns among his servants. More in the crowd. Blueblood himself had a horn, along with some faint knowledge regarding its use. The bitch had no more than average field strength: Fleur was convinced of that. It was possible that just about anypony with a corona could have managed to counter her. And somehow, in the presence of rage so incandescent as to make magnesium dim, none of them did.
Fleur assumed it was the rage for most of them. Personally, she'd simply chosen not to bother.
"...Rarity..."
Fluttershy's wings were starting to flare out, and there was a moment when Fleur knew what would happen. Her charge would get just enough altitude for a forehoof to potentially lash out at the horn. A single moment of hard, sharp contact. Deliberate inducement of backlash: something which, with the corona at a full single layer, would induce injury -- but it would also prevent an assault in front of witnesses. It would keep Rarity out of prison.
It was also purposefully hurting her friend. Doing so in order to avoid a trial -- but inflicting harm with intent. Fluttershy might just be relying on Rarity winking out her field before any contact could take place, but...
The mane hid too much of her charge's face, the body showed no more than a preparation to commit, and Fleur didn't know if Fluttershy was bluffing.
"Somepony must, Fluttershy! If not myself, then who? And if not now, then when? A 'when' which has been postponed for far too long, by uncountable mares! 'When' ends today!"
The slightly-oversized wings were starting to flap: a sound Fleur almost lost in the other one. Yellow hooves were parting from the ground.
"'When' is nothing more than a riddle, a pointless query meant to keep ponies looking towards the future, forever passing on responsibility!" Rarity announced. "And the only way to stop it is through providing the answer. 'When' is now --"
Which was when the pinkish light flared across and coated her body, for the most immediate value of 'now'.
The blunted needles lost their own glow, dropped to the bottom of the fast-rising bubble as the contained unicorn did everything she could to focus, dedicating nearly every last tenth-bit of that strength to fighting back, corona surging to a double layer as the center portion came that much closer to white.
She was somewhere beyond mere fury, and there were scant times when that could do something for a desperate unicorn. The bitch had a degree of skill, and it sent her energies flaring around the rising pinkish bubble, frantically checking for weak spots.
Her strength was strictly average -- but she knew how to use it. Set against more than a few unicorns, including a number of Gifted School graduates who weren't putting enough care into their workings, she might have won.
But you had to consider the nature of the competition.
"TWILIGHT SPARKLE! I demand to be released this instant! I have waited for my satisfaction, waited for years, and that Tartarus-chained preemptive restraining order only applies in the capital! He is on my soil and I will have my --"
Which was when the little alicorn finished the curve of her desperate overhead arc, and began to rush back towards the center of town. The projection of her field, and its contents, hastened to follow.
"-- do you even hear me?" screamed the contents of a quickly-receding bubble. "Do you require a scroll regarding the need for listening to one's friends? Would you enjoy an eternity of overly-tight dresses? There will be vengeance, there must be, and if you do not release me, there shall be an extra portion of it!"
A triple-digit head count carefully turned to watch them go.
"TWILIIIIIGHT!"
It took some time before the last echo faded away, most of which wound up being used for memorizing the followup curses.
The shoddy stallion released a thin puff of air from a slightly-extended lower lip. Blueblood took a breath, and let the force of it push his posture back towards center.
"Rather unexpected," he decided, and an expert head shift made light blush as it contacted the flowing mane. "In the past, I have been greeted with song. Spontaneous compositions, along with a few orchestras which were hired for backup. Vows of undying attraction are fairly common. And swooning is perfectly natural, of course." This with nods of near-appreciation to the fallen, for he could at least appreciate that they had acknowledged his beauty. "But this is the first time my arrival has been met with a comedy routine."
He sniffed again. Fleur listened to the resulting little gasp which came from a small part of the audience, and suspected somepony who was exceptionally slow to catch up was about to compose a sonnet to honor nostril flare.
Some of them are starting to get it. But not all, because he's just that handsome. Some will need a little more before they turn away. And the hopeless ones, anypony who goes into their lives with a battlecry of 'I can change him...!'
Her talent was shut down: it had to be, with Fluttershy so close. But even if her charge had been absent, Fleur would have been reluctant to exert herself. She knew there would be pieces among the assembled audience which were reacting to Blueblood's presence, and far too many would still possess inner glow.
Too many readings at once could potentially disorient her. Being in the presence of that would produce more of a chance for nausea.
...he was looking at her.
Of course he was looking at her. Beauty acknowledged its equal (or, as far as Fleur was concerned, its superior). Even Joyous had allowed for the quality of Fleur's appearance. But with Blueblood, who hired escort after escort, none of whom ever managed to reach his bedroom...
Even once you knew what he was, there were things to envy about the stallion. Some would look towards his wealth with longing eyes, and Fleur wished there had been anything in him which could have been blackmailed -- but he didn't care. (She knew what his desires were, and executing them would have required a changeling. Physical contact might have remained an issue, but given the chance to finally behold the mare version of himself...) It was an income which could have done so much more when pressed between the right hooves and Fluttershy, who had so little beyond the delusion that anypony could somehow gain bits, would have understood how to make that money work for the cottage. The wasted funds shone from every angle of the spire, and if her charge had been envious, even angry -- Fleur would have understood.
His appearance? He was handsome: Fleur would readily grant him that. He typically remained so until you got to know him, and the bitch had accomplished that feat in less than an evening. Caramel could wish for features which had been sculpted on that level, and the low mutter to that side might represent half-expressed thoughts on how the earth pony would use the gift properly.
Fleur was beautiful: she had nothing to reach towards there. She'd been working on acquiring funds, and she still hoped to get the lost portion back. But if she had to envy anything about Blueblood...
He focused a little more. Perfect lips parted.
"Who are you?"
...it would have been his memory.
He edited his own life. If his brain had any real function, it was in removing any recollection which threatened his superiority. He didn't care to remember anything which marred the perceived perfection of self, and so he had simply chosen not to do so. And it almost always worked, because the bitch, whether she knew it or not, had won. Something about Rarity had stuck in Blueblood's mind: there was more than enough vacant space in which to stake out a claim. He remembered her, and -- he was afraid.
I could tell her that.
Or not.
But for just about everything else, Blueblood could forget. There was an argument to be made that it was a gift. Perhaps that was the talent given an icon by the mark: time scattered in all directions, without concern or care.
The escort almost envied that.
"Fleur Dis Lee."
He almost frowned. "Is that a name I should know?"
I was your escort for one night. Just like so many others. One night only, because they can't ask anypony to suffer through you twice.
I came within four minutes of the record.
I wish somepony had told me what the record was before we started. But it's the sort of test where most ponies don't realize there's a test in progress. If you're told too much, it spoils the results.
If I'd known I had four more minutes to go, I might have tried for it.
...this should count for twice.
If I can get you to pass over so much as a smidgen, I'm counting it as a hire and submitting my name for the plaque.
"I'm in Canterlot fairly often," she pleasantly said. "At a number of parties. We may have come within a few body lengths of each other."
"Ah," he said, because he was under the impression that it made him sound intelligent and nopony could convince him otherwise. "So why are you here? At her side?" With another sniff, "If you're seeking autographs..."
So you've figured out how to spell your own name on something other than a voucher?
There was a certain pleasure in honesty...
"Fluttershy has a significant number of suitors right now --"
"-- the significant number being one," declared a stallion who was counting to his standard maximum, "as that number represents me --"
"-- which means she needs somepony to manage the load," Fleur finished. "That's me. If you're here for her, Prince Blueblood, then you go through me first." Pale violet eyes made a minor show of surveying the spire. "It's a little early for a dowry. However, given that you brought a Marble Whispers piece -- actually, given the weight displacement, that really shouldn't be pressing down on --" she nodded to the servant whose corona had just desperately flared towards the fast-bulging portion "-- yes, thank you."
The servant blinked at her a few times.
"What did you say?"
"Thank you."
"...I haven't heard a 'thank you' in three weeks..."
Blueblood sniffed again.
"A steward of sorts," he decided. "Very well. But you recognize that I am here for her?"
You're here to prove that you could get her. It lets you feel that much more superior. But you wouldn't keep her. It would distract too much from the important things. Namely, you, yourself, and the mirror.
You could never raise a child. I hope you never do. And while I'd love the chance to clean out your accounts, I have a Sun-mark looking over my shoulders. So in the name of keeping Fluttershy from getting hurt, we're going to do this the fast way.
Also the permanent one.
"Yes."
"And you recognize the sculpture. Which means you have at least a smidgen of taste." He turned, gestured at the base of the spire. "As proof of suitability, I have also brought --"
"-- yourself," Fleur politely cut in. "That's what we're most interested in, Prince Blueblood. You. In spending time with you. The possessions are... interesting, yes, but why should we allow them to distract from you?"
His chest puffed out: something the traveling cloak was designed to both accommodate and display. Fleur absently listened to the final swoon thump.
"An excellent point!" he gushed, because they had just moved onto his favorite topic. "Time with me, then! Truly the greatest gift! And how should we spend it? I already have several ideas..."
He quickly glanced at the sweat-covered servants, because ideas had to come from somewhere. The shoddy one began to open his mouth --
"-- all of which may need some time to fully arrange," Fleur smiled. "But we certainly have you for today. And we'd like to keep the focus on you, which means your -- credentials can stay here for now." Because the spire didn't need to be moved any more, it would allow the servants to rest, and it was easier to receive medical attention when you were standing still. "Because I've been expecting you, Prince Blueblood. Well... who wouldn't, really?"
He visibly preened. The trio almost stared at that, because it was very hard for a unicorn to do.
"And so I've planned some things for you accordingly," the escort announced. "Because you've come for Fluttershy. And when you come for Fluttershy..."
The verbal stop was fully deliberate. It was also planned, and those who flanked her had been told to turn when she did, start trotting back the other way. To do so without another word, until they heard --
-- there it is. He just jumped down.
He's following.
One more set of hoofsteps. Probably a servant coming with him. I'll have to allow at least one: he might turn back otherwise. But I should be able to keep the numbers low.
Follow us, Vlad.
All the way back.
'He wants to win you. Let's show him exactly what he's playing for.'
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I love everything about Fluer in "crisis management" mode, highlighting this line because I also like her using an analogy Fluttershy will get and having two conversations at once. Also, friendship with Caramel! (Ish!)
(Also, space between the period and the last word. I've highlighted it.)
Ponyville may be much smaller than Ankh-Morpork, but it has the same love of street theater.
I swear I'm writing these comments as I go.
I think this firmly settles one of the big questions for Shining Armor in your work.
I get the feeling that Fleur would've accounted for herself quite well during Discord's unrule, in case her first reaction to him didn't make that clear enough.
Heh. Speaking of Discord, if he has to be in so prosaic a form, he's going to make it everypony's problem.
Huh. Never heard that one before. Usually it's a matter of either incredibly sheltered animals or Philomena poisoning the well after the whole birdnapping incident. Or both. But this works on multiple levels.
Oh, Rarity. I'm sure vengeance will be hers some day. Maybe after Vlad runs his accounts dry, though at that point I'm not sure whether she'll feel like she's kicking him when he's down. But first, he's about to have quite the experience to edit out later. Looking forward to it.
The Rarity intermission and the abrupt shut down of it from Twilight made me chuckle.
It is also nice to see Twilight manage both flying and spell casting at the same time.
Meta audience is meta, though I hope that none of the readers swooned.
Of course. That's where the fountain is. I predict a minimum of three dunks before the steam coming off Rarity is merely hot water.
Reading this, I was reminded of a RariShy fic, where Blueblood was visiting Ponyville, and was such an ass to the two of them that Fluttershy followed him into the bathroom—at his invitation—and let him have it. It actually got him to pull his head out of his ass and become a decent pony. Which one was that? One of Tiailin’s…No, it was Green! That’s right.
Too bad it won’t be so easy here.
Wait, is that Discord? And Harem Fantasy, too, of course. I hope so, because fireworks would definitely be an appropriate comparison.
I just imagined that being pronounced as ‘kike’, like Eliza Dolittle.
Also, I noticed a couple minor typos, but one is just a little too big to ignore:
I imagine this should be eyes.
It’s great to see a solid focus in this story. It’s my favorite as I’ve probably said before. Blueblood is a special kind of irritating. I find myself drawn to Fluer’s other subplots and the main plot is distracting from them! 😜
Blueblood should be able to be dissuaded pretty swiftly. Here’s hoping! He’s in the top three of stallions who’s very name in an Estee story causes a strong negative reaction in me. Gotta kick that pompous jerk to the curb.
Triptych-verse Rarity is a Berserker.
10780159
I made that connection too.
Going back to Fluttershy's cottage, I wonder who he'll enjoy meeting more:
Harry, Angel Bunny, or the smell.
10780305
Thank you for pointing out Discord! It's gotta be. Blueblood is Discord's horse in the race.
Oooh... Lol if in the end, it's Fleur x Fluttershy, but Discord magics their future baby into existence.
10780548
I…just can’t see that. Not unless Discord is waiting until his assets become their assets, to get rid of Blueblood and make them all her assets. Of course, that would make Rarity his friend for life, so…
Next chapter, we see what happens when the Prince =/= Charming meets the Beast Master in her den.
Ah, come on, Fleur. You and Rarity have problems, but give her this one; Blueblood the Emptyminded actually remembers her, and with fear no less.
10780609
All the animals will take one look and go oh HELL no.
Especially Angel Bunny.
"Fleur was interally comparing"
"Fleur was internally comparing"?
"do nothing more than serving as the"
"do nothing more than serve as the"?
"seemed to have put assembled by committee"
"seemed to have been assembled by committee"?
"especially in green and cold. Riding"
"especially in green and gold. Riding"?
"something which had a wealth dancing in and out of"
"something which had wealth dancing in and out of"?
Well, looks like it's a good day for the Ponyville street theatre scene. :D
Quite enjoyable on this side of the screen too. :)
10780587
https://www.fimfiction.net/story/342886/32/anchor-foal-a-romantic-cringe-comedy/something-stupid-this-way-comes
Is quite clear about Blueblood being Discord's pick.
Search "Research assistant", etc.
Interesting to see that Fleur is Nice to the Waiter.
I’m hoping that the first resident of the cottage they come to is Harry the bear.
I imagine that after Blueblood is seen off, Fleur will visit the library. First of all to thank Twilight. Second, to laugh at Rarity.
I hope Spike happens to be there, and Fleur uses her talent. If she picks up on the worst kept secret in Ponyville, Spike May just become her favourite distraction away from the cottage. Just to see Rarity jealous. I could see her trying to encourage him to redirect his energies anywhere else, just out of spite. And it might just be good for Spike in the long term.
Should this be "gold"?
10780159
You know, I loved Fleur's reaction to him so much I had to go reread it when you mentioned it :)
10780881
Fluer isn't going to use a kid to mess with someone else.
Loved the Rarity interruption and Twilight intervention.
I think this is the first time Rarity and Fleur have been in the proximity of each others since the beginning of the story.
10780944
Okay, I worded that quite poorly. You’re right, she wouldn’t use him. But just step back and look at the current situation.
Spike has a crush on Rarity. Rarity knows this and is not trying to dissuade him. She takes him to dig up gems for her in diamond dog territory. She has used him as an actual pin cushion. In the ‘Verse she takes him to bars to act as her chaperone, to the point he can recognise when she is drunk. So she can scope out the Ponyville single scene. She may not be actively dating, but she is looking. Part of her puzzle is an attraction to hooves...
To an outsider, this doesn’t look particularly healthy for Spike.
Fleur, being fond of children being children (due to her past), would seek to redirect his attention. Not to herself. She would attempt to be an example of a (to her mind) healthy adult and child relationship. One where the adult was not benefiting from the child. Weakening Rarity’s hold over him. Having Rarity jealous because Spike is spending time with her is a way to twist the knife.
Sure, in the show Spike having a crush on Rarity is played for laughs. But the ‘Verse is where reality happens. The fact that no one has called out Rarity’s behaviour as unhealthy to Spike is kind of messed up. I think it would be interesting if it was part of Fleur’s redemption arc.
10780758
The more important thing is that Vlad will see the interior of her cottage and discover a plethora of phobias hitherto undreamt of.
10781106
No, they're completely different. Fleur can see your kink, Joyous makes herself the It in Want It, Need It.
10780548
Very Special Spell time if it gets there.
Rarity was pretty funny in this. As was Twilight totally killing her vibe right at the end there. It'll be fun to see how Blueblood will handle the Cottage Experience(tm). Interesting how Fluttershy is pushing forward more than Fleur thinks she can. I hope we see more surprises from her and that Fleur sees how she has been underestimating her charge.
10784279
I agree but I was under the impression from Mark of Appeal that the effects were cumulative and at some point, multiple exposure would rob someone of all judgements eventually. At least it was how I understood.
Was I wrong? I mean, if at some point, your control of yourself isn't possible anymore, is it the same as Fleur?
10781136
I get the feeling in the Verse Rarity does not use Spike. Spike has been shown to stand up for himself(the shoe story), and Rarity has been one of his biggest defenders(unnoticed). I think in the Verse Spike has a crush on Rarity but it doesn't make him unthinking and while Rarity knows it she is not stringing him along, just treating him as a friend, giving and taking. They are equals, with one attracted to another.
I don't think Blueblood realizes how much danger he is in here. Socially Flur can harm him, Rarity wants to kill him, Spike would easily rough him up just cause he hurt Rarity (let's face it he could easily do it with out promting), pretty sure AJ would gladly buck his ass for insulting her cooking, doubt Twilight can really stand him and is more powerful than him in all senses huge field and politicly she out ranks him, and finally should he do anything to Futtershy that makes her upset Discord will make him suffer. But then he is a narcissist of the highest order, and doesn't see/know about the threats. Commoners? Auntie's student and her lizard? That "Beastly Draconoques"? He can't do conceive of them as social, political or physical threats.
Sure. Why not? Does this building have an unfinished porch on it?
Terry Pratchett's character Fred Colon felt about reading the same way that he felt about boots -they were something that was necessary but liking either too much was suspect.
Blueblood appears to share that attitude.
As for Rarity, she's a bit of a gold digger but there's limits to what she'll tolerate.
reminds me of several books where Reporters seemed to think that hiding behind a CAMERA made them invincible...