> The Long-Eared Temptress
>  by Gabriel LaVedier
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Hearing too much
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Prince Blueblood's 'around the palace' persona was not at all different from his public persona. The one he had when just out and about, not the falsely cheery and agreeable one he gave for photo ops. The one caught in candid shots that sold cheap magazines and rag-paper weeklies. He was an arrogant, disagreeable boor with an ego the size of the palace itself.
He used his status and personal wealth to tempt otherwise-reasonable nobles to be his flighty coterie, an ever-changing cloud of clucking yes-ponies walking with him, laughing at his lame jokes or telling him he was wonderful. For that job he also had women. Pretty mares from fine families, enticed by expensive dinners, exclusive performances or pricey jewelry to accompany him around and make him feel like a mighty male. He was not exactly asexual, but most of the temporary female companions were relieved to find out they would not need to accompany him to his bed. Those that did noted he was very careful about protection, both mundane and magical, and performed the deed with a certain urgency. He was interested only in his own pleasure, and dismissed his chosen courtesan the very moment he had completed the act, with a simple assurance that he was certain any issue in the future was not his.
That was the extent of his life. Strutting and preening like any other member of the titled nobility, with an extra dash of ego and self-assurance. His strutting had actually become less grand and public, following a rather embarrassing encounter in the upper terrace with a vacationing constable. The nobles that normally deferred to him had taken to subtle acts of impudence such as by carrying around small glass objects or mentioning the same in his presence. That kept him inside more often than not. In the palace he was untouchable.
The only nobles that came into the palace were careful to mind their manners, already intimidated by the dual presences of his great-aunts. He got that spillover deference and milked it for all it was worth. As well, the various guards and servants of the palace were required to treat him with respect. Almost all of them were so required; Lime Sherbert, an upper-palace chamber maid, actually had far more freedom. She had been taken into Luna's confidence, and was thus untouchable. Disrespecting her was a shortcut to earning Luna's wrath. Blueblood was well aware, from hearing the ringing shouts on suitor days, Luna's wrath involved high-volume chastisement combined with thousand-year-old, genital-withering insults.
Wrapped in the impenetrable cocoon of the palace's aura and secure in his haughtiness, so long as he avoided the upper floors, Blueblood passed indistinguishable days performing most of his favorite activities. He had a smaller coterie of varied nobles to prop up his sense of superiority, and even managed to get a few mares to stroke his ego, though he never asked for more than that, given his limited capacity to pre-pay for more than talk.
Because he did not hold to a normal schedule, and did as he pleased, he often wandered into the kitchen in search of food. His stomach's odd hours meant he was ever too early or too late for the formal dining times. His 'friends' very often had to make do with what they could pick from such excursions; it was one of many reasons there were few, if any, repeats in the group.
The kitchen staff, by and large, ignored him, as they were a busy bunch. And Blueblood, being himself, wholly ignored them, as mere background noise, well beneath him. That held until he found himself in the kitchen, late for lunch. He was in the midst of the aftermath of food preparation, the cleaning and organizing with which he never concerned himself. He happened to look to the side, where a medium-sized iron cauldron was being cleaned. The one doing the cleaning was a jenny.
She was fairly unremarkable as far as donkeys went, a light gray in color with a shining, jet-black mane that bounced in fluffy ringlets, with the typical faintly cream-colored muzzle. Her attire was a standard black-and-white maid outfit, covered by a heavy, water-resistant apron. She had the characteristic knob-knees, though less obviously than many others, as well as the species-standard long ears. But her ears almost seemed especially long, making her head look particularly rabbitlike. It did not help that they seemed to be in constant motion, practically reacting to every move she made, as well as every sound.
She heard Blueblood passing and shot her eyes aside for a brief moment. The moment became heavy, suffused with tension as her eyes met his. A servant looking directly upon one of her bosses. The moment cracked with a scowl and soft snort from Blueblood. With a lift of his head he trotted off, leaving the jenny behind to continue her scrubbing. 'How impudent,' he thought, with and pompous huff, 'A mere scullery maid, the most menial servant, looking upon me, looking in my very eyes! Such cheek. At least I know well it shall never happen again.'
Blueblood had little patience with anyone, as many well knew, but even less patience with servants of any sort, save the one maid that required his patience. He did not have time for their excuses, cajoling, begging, stuttering, whingeing, procrastinating or anything similar. Nobles and other wealthy ponies had the good sense to be discreet, courteous and oblique. That was greatly preferable.
He didn't bother eating lunch. He skipped dinner as well, at least the formal dinner served in the dining hall. He had food delivered to his private suite, and demanded it be brought up personally, rather than be sent up via the dumbwaiter. Nopony complained to his face, though he was sure that they did so when he turned away. The repast was brought up via a large wheeled cart, clattering faintly with the covers on the trays and the crystal glass and decanters. The serving pony brought the cart in under Blueblood's scowl and left with nothing but the cart and his cold huff. There were no kind words for the faceless kitchen pony, but then, there were never words at all.

The next day Blueblood loitered in the kitchen after stuffing his gob with whatever choice morsels fell under his gaze, and after letting his small knot of tag-alongs graze on what remained. He did not explain the action; he was not usually so kind as to let them finish eating, which frequently necessitated ungentlecoltly scarfing and stuffing. That day, however, he was all over the kitchen, silently noting small stains, using his horn to prod at food he thought questionable, and generally looking to critique everything under his gaze.
He caught sight of something in the corner of his eye and cleared his throat loudly, drawing all eyes to him. “It's a wonder we're not all in the palace infirmary every day. Dirty floors and cooking equipment, questionable produce, disorder and chaos everywhere. Come along, we must be out of this place before anything untoward happens.”
Blueblood practically pushed the confused collection of stallions out of the room, while just out of sight a huge pair of gray ears fell.
It was a week before Blueblood ventured into the kitchen again, having been content to have his meals brought up. He seemed particular petulant during that time, scowling and glaring whenever he was seen by a servant. His trips around the palace were short and stilted, his attempts at leading nobles were very perfunctory, and he completely abandoned his monetary seduction of mares.
His return sortie into the kitchen was alone, a quick trip for a casual repast of pastry and tender flower petals. After scattering the stems and crumbs he cast his eye around the room, catching gray peaks lifted high over a distant counter. “Well! This is a fine state! Stems and crumbs! It's as if no one in this place knows how to clean.” A smile spread across his face as the jenny's head rose up shyly, eyes turned aside. “If this is how things are done then my opinion of the palace workforce is correct.” 
The maid was out I a flash, with a dustpan and small broom, tending to the dropped bits with small words of contrition, the loudest being, “Forgive my inattention, sir.”
There was no direct reply from the bulky unicorn. He merely swept his mane back and trotted casually off. “Imagine, letting messes pile up. Inefficiency. That is certainly no way to organize a staff. Perhaps there needs to be a shakeup.”
The threat hung in the air, and lingered there with grim implications. The threat hardly seemed idle, given the regular appearance of a cold-eyed Blueblood. He assessed the performance of every kitchen worker, giving slight nods of his head or shakes as things met his approval or fell short of his standards. Through it all he was silent, letting himself be felt, projecting power with a mere presence.
His most common criticism fell upon the poor jenny's long-eared head. He spent many an hour watching her lobes bobbing as she worked, and his eyes would narrow in judgment with every task undertaken. She adjusted her sweeping techniques at least five times before they stopped bringing scorn; her mopping, seven times; her scrubbing no less than twelve. She never complained. She only obeyed, and often apologized with the words, “I will do better, sir.”
The strange behavior did not go unnoticed for long. Several weeks later Blueblood was intercepted on his way down into the kitchen by Lime Sherbert. “Prince Blueblood. How unusual to find you down here. It seems beneath your grand eminence.”
Blueblood ground his teeth before pulling a large and insincere smile. The one servant he never wanted to see. “And you... as I recall you are a chamber maid of the upper reaches. What brings you down to the depths?”
“Investigating a rumor. I have heard through the palace gossip channels that there was a noble of some import down in the kitchen threatening the staff with firing and generally being an oafish bother. Now of course I know that you could never be an oafish bother or some sort of boor, churl or lout, prince. But there have been whispers of the same and I felt it would benefit from my looking into the matter. Perhaps I could get her Majesty to look into the situation and castigate the offender with some choice words...”
“No!” Blueblood adjusted his lapels and coughed softly into his hoof. “Now, what I meant was that there really is no need to get great-auntie Luna involved. I would hate to see her bothered for such a trivial matter. Now, let me pass on to get a bit to eat. I will see if anypony matching that description is down there. Perhaps by being there I can chase them off. I am very important, after all. Knowing that I am looking into the matter just might provide the solution.”
“If anypony could spot a churlish oaf it would be you, prince. You seem to have a capability for being there when they appear. It's like magic. Very well, then, I will keep from informing her Majesty of this matter, providing the rumors cease. That will prove your great skill and influence. Other ponies might even respect you. Oh, not that they don't! Such a silly slip of the tongue.” Lime grinned broadly and gave a mocking curtsey. “Good day, prince.”
“Yes yes, good day.” Blueblood's smile dropped the moment he was out of sight and a shiver ran along his huge body. He really dodged a situation. Though he had received a temporary reprieve from Luna's wrath he could not count on that continuing if he persisted in his endeavors.
He ate quickly, but carefully. He made certain that no crumbs spilled, that his plates were clear of detritus before he set them aside for washing and that he did not give any negative indications towards any member of staff. Before leaving, however, he made a request of the kitchen overseer. “I want my usual tonight, with three beverages, and use fresher herbs. I can taste the difference, you know. But when it is brought up to my suite I insist that it be brought by that jenny.”
“You mean Connie, sir?” The overseer, a plump puce unicorn in a black vest peered curiously at Blueblood then looked aside to the donkey he had named, who was washing the dishes the prince had just put aside.
“Is that her name? I can hardly be bothered to learn the names of every servant in this palace. If that is her name then that is her name. It does not matter. I insist that she be the one to deliver it to me. I will send the plates down on the dumbwaiter, as usual. Do you understand?”
“Of course, sir. It will be done as you wish.” The overseer bowed, biting back any comment about how strange the request was, and banishing from his mind all the potential implications or outcomes. There was no evidence that Blueblood was... strange. Other than the jokes told in the servants' quarters, but that concerned a far different class of strangeness than the dire warnings about other noble ponies. Blueblood was no Marquise Morning Star, after all.
That evening Blueblood awaited a knock on his door, his magic opening it wide the moment the first impact sounded. It was such a quick motion that Connie swayed a bit when her hoof found itself swinging through the air. “Your supper, as requested, sir.” She wheeled the cart inside with a slight tremble. “The chef wanted me to note that he used only fresh-plucked herbs for your food tonight, sir.”
A soft grunt emerged from the heavy unicorn, his eyes on the servant, rather than the cart. He came up to her, his imposing stature made all the more clear with his sudden, silent proximity.
Connie swallowed hard and attempted to lick her dry lips without looking too impudent. “W-will... will there be anything else, sir?”
Blueblood loomed, looking down with his piercing eyes. One hoof slowly came up, soft feathering swaying with the motion. He looked ready to bring it forward, against the bowed-headed jenny, but suddenly thrust it to the side, pointing out of the door.
“Very well, sir. Have a good evening, sir.” Connie quickly set the trays, decanters and crystal glass out on a nearby table and pushed the cart towards the door.
“Hold.”
Connie held just outside the door, a tremble passing down her back, her teeth clenching tight. “Y-yes, sir?”
Blueblood strolled up to the door frame, and looked down on Connie with a serious expression. After gazing on her, though not quite in her face, for a long moment he noted, “Your ears are long.” Then the door closed with a stern thud, leaving the maid utterly confused.
> Burdens
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“Will there be anything else, sir?” The next night saw an essential repeat of the previous night. Connie had been specifically requested to bring up Blueblood's dinner. And she had found it a strange experience, under the prince's oddly intense gaze.
The unicorn gave no comment, until Connie was almost out the door. “Yes.”
“Sir?”
“There will be one more thing.” Using his magic he levitated up a carrot, pressing it to Connie's chest.
“S-sir?” The jenny took it in her hoof, looking down on it with a sudden fear.
“I want you to eat this carrot.”
A moment of heavy silence passed between the two of the, Blueblood rigid and stern, Connie trembling slightly, still looking at the root vegetable. “You wish me to... what, sir?”
“I want for you to eat this carrot. Right now.” There was an odd air about Blueblood as he commanded it, some trace of something that wanted to break through his stony mask. Whatever it may have been, it never managed to break through.
“Y-yes, sir. As you want, sir.” With a slight bit of trepidation Connie lifted the orange vegetable to her mouth and crunched on it. She chewed slowly, and swallowed with some hesitation. It took a good amount of time to consume the whole thing, the green ends finally being eaten and swallowed. “Is that... all, sir?”
“Yes. You may go now.” With that Blueblood turned away.
“Enjoy your dinner...” The door shut firmly, as it had previously. “Sir...” Connie turned to take the cart away, noting some sound from beyond the heavy door. She tried not to think about it. It was just the price of dealing with Blueblood. At least it would not be so strange all the time.
She was spared a second strange situation the next night, and the night after as well. She did not see Blueblood at all in that time. He had seemingly gotten the message about the palace grapevine and was intentionally dodging a potential steel-edged tongue-lashing from his great-aunt. He appeared at meals at the regular time, typically alone, and ordered up dinner without special instructions.
The fourth night saw a return of the special request for his server. Connie once more found herself facing down the heavy door to the private suite. The passage of time had dulled the strangeness to a passing oddity. Just a strange story to relate to someone at a later date to explain the quirkiness of the job. She tapped on the door only once, having learned her lesson the first night. “Dinner service, sir.”
The door flew open after that first knock, and Blueblood stepped aside to let the cart through. “Lay out the trays swiftly.”
“As you want, sir.” Connie was swift and efficient, setting out and uncovering the trays, stacking the covers back on the cart and wheeling it away. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Yes.” There were no heavy moments of tension or building suspense. He merely peeled several leaves off of a cabbage and presented them. “Eat these cabbage leaves.”
“As... you want, sir.” The consumption was less halting and hesitant; Connie had missed the staff dinner and was feeling slightly peckish. As unusual as the two requests had been, they had the benefit of being tasty, and as she had been thinking earlier, they would make for great stories down the line. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No. You may go now.” Again, there was some sound from behind the door. But it was none of Connie's business. Mysteries and curiosities. And fairly harmless.
She got a bit of rest again, lasting five days. The time between requests was actually somehow distressing. It wasn't so bad, eating vegetables. Sure, he had commented on her ears, a very sore spot for her, but he was an abrasive boor to everyone. She wasn't singled out for species-based scorn or ridicule; she was just another in the long line of folk slighted by Blueblood. In a very odd way it put him above some of the nastier hereditary peers, though fewer and fewer as Luna discovered them and put her personal verbal punctuation mark on the impropriety of their actions and words.
Connie wasn't certain what she was to eat the next time she went up, she only hoped it wasn't too substantial. She had had a big dinner and couldn't handle much. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Yes.” Blueblood levitated over two spring-activated wooden clothespins, of the sort the laundry used for hanging attire, as opposed to the larger rigid ones used to secure heavier articles. “Bring your head down a bit.”
“Sir? Are those... from the laundry, sir?” They were lacquered in the particular shade of the royal laundry, and even had the engraving the others had.
“How dare you?! Are you accusing me of thievery from the royal laundry?!” Blueblood's expression was not completely enraged. It was more... piqued.
“No, sir! I would never, sir. I am sorry, sir. They only reminded me of those, sir.” Connie dipped her head, mind racing. That was new.
“Very well. I will ignore this impudence and forgive you completely. These do not close well, I believe they are broken.” The two wooden objects were maneuvered to the tips of Connie's ears, opened and then clipped to the ends, though somewhat loosely. “You may go now. Dispose of them when and where you choose.”
“As you want, sir.” Connie pushed the cart out of the room and picked the clothespins off of her ears as soon as the door was shut. No strange meal, but a strange encounter. As he had said, they were slightly broken, and did not clip down all that hard. They barely exerted any pressure at all. But just the image of it... very odd.
“He clipped clothespins to your ears? I think you got off easy.” Connie relaxed in one of the steam rooms made available to palace workers of all statuses. She was there with Rose Topaz, a small, dusty pink Diamond Dog; and Fireclay, an umber earth pony with a cinnamon mane, who was speaking, “There are worse places to be pinched, or so I've read.”
“They didn't really... pinch. I mean, he told the truth, they were kind of broken. Probably something the laundry were going to toss out anyway. It was just... weird.” Connie scooped a ladle full of water over the hot rocks to release a cloud of steam.
“But didn't you say he also asked you to eat a carrot?” Fireclay stroked her chin and squinted one eye. “Now... when you say he made you 'eat' a carrot you mean that he had you chew it up and swallow it or..?”
“Oh! Oh! Yes! It was eating it, like, as a food. The next time it was cabbage leaves. I think it was, you know...” Connie indicated her long, slightly steam-drooped ears.
“Ears like fluffy bunny, yes?” Rose Topaz gave a typical Diamond Dog giant smile, as well as a thumbs up.
Connie looked over at Rose and rolled her eyes. It wasn't worth the effort. “Yes. That was why. As I understand it he is... just like that. I don't think he can help it. But really, what do I do? Do I tell someone? It's not that bad...”
“It sounds a little... well, let's get it out there, a little sexually harass-y. Everyone knows Blueblood gets it on when he can, and can buy any mare he wants.” Fireclay reached over and patted Connie on the back. “It might not hurt to talk to someone like the overseer or even Lime Sherbert. I hear she gets things done.”
“In Diamond Dog colony mines, females treated with respect. Work with males. Work hard. Not treated bad. Have good system. If Dog not respect, tell supervisor. Given talking to.”
“How very enlightened. I often forget that Diamond Dogs are quite advanced socially, within their own communities. But was about... well, what if it becomes more serious? What if they don't stop?” Connie looked over curiously.
“Oh, process for that too. If Dog not stop, need to kick in gem pouch! Not bother anymore!” Rose Topaz gave a high, raspy laugh, joined in it by Fireclay. Connie gave a half-hearted chuckle but merely poured more water onto the rocks to hide herself in the steam.
“Here.” A few days later, Blueblood passed over a selection of silk ribbons, thin ones with a bit of shimmer. “Wrap your ears up. Completely. And together, not individually.”
“May I... not, sir?” Connie dipped her head, and she tried to pass back the ribbons. “I mean no disrespect to you, sir. I am very busy and should not dally like this, sir.”
“I am giving you permission. I, prince Blueblood, grant you dispensation to dally. Now do this.” Blueblood pressed the ribbons firmly into Connie's hoof.
“Of course, sir. As you want, sir.” Connie began by tying a red ribbon to the base of her right ear, and a pink one to the base of her left. She then started winding them around and around both ears. It was not difficult, as there was plenty of material. She didn't even have to squeeze her ears together to get good coverage. But even with plenty, she still felt it was an unspoken portion of the request to use all that she had. So another pink ribbon was wound around her ears, then another red one, and finally one that broke the color scheme, being a bright blue. “Does this suffice, sir?”
“You may go now.” Blueblood shut the door firmly, leaving Connie oddly festooned and more confused than ever. No one in the kitchen had reported anything when they served Blueblood; all of them unanimously spoke of his coldness and silence, not of odd proclivities.
Connie was beginning to come face-to-face with the idea that it was not just Blueblood's well-known arrogance and general inability to relate to others in a mature and even manner. She was being singled out and made to do odd things. There was nothing overtly... anything about them. But the last two being focused on her ears seemed significant somehow. She had always been teased over them. He must have known it...
No. Blueblood did not seem the type to actually care to learn about anyone, least of all a lowly scullery maid. He would not have made an effort to pick out her emotional weaknesses. The answer was likely far simpler. His focus had simply shifted to her as a momentary bit of puckishness. He would assert his status and make her do these things while he soberly looked on and knew his power had done it. After it ceased to be amusing he would leave her alone.
There came a strange calm as she untied the ribbons from her ears and placed them in the pocket of her apron. She was destined to be focused-upon for a time and then forgotten. That would not normally be a comfortable sensation, but given the nature of the attention it was the best possible solution. It could be borne. No need to involve others in the matter.
“Do hold still. I do not want you to throw off my aim.” Five nights later Connie was standing outside the door with the delivery cart while Blueblood threw rings of leaves around her ears, as if he was playing a game of plant-based horseshoes. In total, he managed to ring four of the circles of greenery around each of her ears.
“Yes... sir...” She was beginning to see why other servants spoke of Blueblood with such venom. Though they usually spoke of his haughty dismissal, curt and egotistical trumpeting of his status or his histrionic hissy fits over minor mistakes. “My apologies, sir. Have you finished, sir?”
“Yes, yes. Go then, go.” Blueblood shut the door with a flash of magical power.
Connie slowly wheeled the cart to one of the nearby speaking tubes that led down to the kitchen. “Is there anyone listening to the tubes?”
“Connie?” The kitchen overseer's voice came up, tinny and small. “Are you finished with that Blueblood run?”
“Yea... listen, I'm leaving the cart by this tube, I've got something I need to do. Can you send someone up to get this thing?”
“Sure.” Even through the tube a hesitating heaviness could be felt. “Did... something happen?”
“Yes. But nothing like what you're imagining. Just let me put it this way, Blueblood is strange. But not a Marquise Morning Star. So, thanks.” Connie placed the tube back into its place and made her way along the corridors of the upper palace, towards the quarters given to the chamber maids of the upper portions.
She arrived at one of the doors and gingerly knocked on the wooden door. After a moment a face appeared as the door opened. Stormy gray eyes looked on Connie, set in a handsome stallion face, white in color with a dark black buzz-cut mane above. “Yes? How may I help you?”
“Are you Destrier Dark Skies, husband of Lime Sherbert?”
“Indeed I am. Given your attire and... head... decorations... I'm guessing you're a... garden maid?” Dark tilted his head a bit and rubbed his cheek with a fetlock. “Yea, I've got nothing.”
Connie crossed her eyes to look up at her festooning foliage and clicked her tongue. “Is your wife in?”
“She is. Do you need to see her for some maid business?” Dark opened the door just a bit wider, and stood slightly off to the side.
Connie actually gave it a thought. On further refection it seemed rather like a tempest in a teapot, or perhaps more akin to using a lighthouse to read a book in the dark. Lime was rather the Banishment Option, as it was said. All the palace maids and stewards knew it was true. She didn't need a heavy enforcer. “No... no, that's alright, Destrier. In fact, forget I was here. Never mind.” With that, Connie turned and trotted away.
“Who's there, honey?” Lime poked her own head out of the open door after Connie had passed around a corner.
“Well... a maid. From the garden or grounds I guess. She was a jenny with some rings of leaves over her ears. Asked if you were in then told me to forget it.”
“A jenny, eh? Gray, black mane? Really, really big ears?”
“That's the one. She seemed really into it when she arrived but thought about it and then took off. Do you know her?”
“Not by name. Or by reputation necessarily. But I know the kitchen staff in general since I cut off some problems. Or thought I had. She may not want to talk, but I hear her loud and clear.” Lime looked sternly down the hall, then pulled her head back into the room. “Meanwhile, get your zucchini back over here. I wanna marinate that thing...”
“Yes dear!” The door shut with a resounding thud, which was followed by the muffled rattle and click of several locks and bolts being closed.
> Contrariness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“If I may speak... sir?” Connie stood outside of Blueblood's room, beside the dining cart. She was sitting on her hind end, head tilted forward as the prince's magical force slowly settled feathers against the tips of her ears, attaching them with small silk ribbons.
“So long as you do not disturb my work, you may speak.” Blueblood had ceased to be stern and inscrutable. He was merely neutral, as though he was speaking to someone that was barely there.
“I somehow feel, sir, that some of these actions may be, in some manner, inappropriate. I have considered taking this matter to some authority of some measure, as is my right, sir.” Connie looked up, daring to try and gauge Blueblood's reaction to the news.
The big unicorn looked somewhat stricken. He was not angry at the insolence, if it could be so called. There was more a combination of worry and surprise. The ribbons were tied on, leaving several feathers waving at the tips of her ears. They looked to be rather good examples of bald eagle griffin feathers, the kind not usually found in circulation. “I do not understand what you are attempting to say. Inappropriate? I find nothing inappropriate in this. But perhaps there may be some facet I do not see. I will contemplate this. Please leave me now to my considerations and do not do anything rash.” Before closing the door, in a quick and soft statement he added, “And please enjoy the feathers.”
While wheeling the cart away Connie pulled the feathers from her eartips and looked them over, finally realizing they were griffin feathers. Another fine story to add to the others she had, and some nice trinkets to drop in her drawer, alongside the discarded Grand Galloping Gala flier she had found after one of the events, and the seashell she had found on her one and only trip to a beach.
She was almost down in the kitchen when she found herself stopped by a pony standing in her path. A lime-green unicorn with darker green mane. The big cheese of maids, Lime Sherbert. “Hello there, Connie. I think we need to talk.” Her tone was light, friendly, just like her features. By all appearances she was attempting to look like a good friend.
“Uhh, I've got some things to do in the kitchen, ma'am. I'm a little behind and I need to get...” Connie attempted to maneuver the cart around Lime's body.
“Yes, a little behind. And I have to wonder why.” Lime pressed her body against the cart and pushed back. She was a unicorn versus a donkey, so was not much in the strength department, but her mere presence was quite strong.
“I don't know... I don't know what you mean by that. I have work to do, and a lot of it. I'm terribly sorry but I must be off.”
“Did he threaten you?” Lime's expression changed in a heartbeat. Her face hardened and brows furrowed, body becoming even more rigid against the cart. “If he said even one thing...”
“I swear, ma'am, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a scullery maid. I'm not worth threatening.” Connie's body pressed harder on the cart, pushing Lime a little bit. The motion made her statement's subject a bit more ambiguous. “Please let me get back to work.”
Lime relented, stepping to the side with a huff. “You don't have to protect him. He doesn't have the rights you think he has. He can get in trouble. Big trouble. Just come to my room when you finally want to stick it to him.”
“I... will remember that, ma'am, though I do not quite understand it.” Connie pushed the cart on, sighing a bit and shaking her head. From both sides. It was coming form both sides.
Blueblood's door opened after a series of stern, insistent knocks, revealing his aggravated features. “What matter could anypony possibly have...” His tirade ended when he saw the scowling green face behind the door. “Mrs. Sherbert! To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“What did you do? Were there threats? I don't think even you would use physical force and violate someone. I'm telling you, it ends. Now.” Lime poked Blueblood in the chest, rather sternly, and gave him the evil eye.
“I-I'm sure I don't know what you are trying to imply.” Blueblood disdainfully swept the offending hoof from his chest, but took a rather fearful step back into the comfortable fortress of his quarters. “I have done nothing wrong. Now please leave me alone. I am trying to eat.”
“I know you did something. I may not know what, and she may be too intimidated or awed or something similar to tell me, but I know. And now you know I know. So let's consider the matter closed.” Lime glared into the room, casting eyes about for evidence of a struggle or something untoward. All she could see were scattered papers around the desk, mostly crumpled up, with a few open to reveal poor charcoal renderings of tall, thin peaks. “Enjoy your meal, Prince. And do recall, her Majesty's voice is always warmed up and eager to be used.”
The door closed with a firm slam, Blueblood left panting and wide-eyed after his encounter. Everything was spiraling out of control. That certainly didn't happen very often. He was the ultimate authority. Or so he had always been assured, excepting his distant relations. He was supposed to be the one that led things along. But he was just falling.

”There is an important lesson you must learn, son.” His father and mother were not warm and nurturing ponies. They were distant, dismissive, and ruthlessly efficient. The last of the line clinging to the honorary title bestowed so long ago. The final remaining Celestian honorarium that made them technical blood kin. His father looked sternly down on the young Blueblood as he imparted his wisdom. “Ponies are base, immoral creatures. Don't be swayed by the lies of the needlessly cheery and kind. In Canterlot you will learn how low they are. They will cling to you, like parasites, leeching off your money, status and power. Mares will want your bloodline, stallions will want your favors. The only pure relation is strict control. Be always above, and always stern. Never let any party capture you and use you. Do I make myself clear?”
The foal Blueblood had heard such lessons many times before. His forming, sponge-like brain could repeat them, but he was barely aware of what any of it meant. Still, as was proper, he nodded his head and looked up at his father. “I understand. I will not be controlled.”

It wasn't hard to do. With that status available, and with nobles eager to enhance their status with mere proximity, he could make them dance at the ends of his strings. In some sense, perhaps, they were using him. But a passive parasitism with him knowing it was far less harmful than him being a gullible follower giving increasing power and status to a single mendacious figure. He even had power over that passive usage. He could deny and dismiss anypony claiming him as a compatriot, leaving them drifting and helpless.
A certain distance, a modicum of aloofness, was forever required in every aspect of his life. It was not enough to merely stand apart. Others had to realize he was intentionally holding them at hoof's length. It was none of his concern if that made him appear unusual in the eyes and estimation of others. His own inner nobility would always shine through, and that was good enough for him. Others who could not understand were hardly worth his thoughts.
He was not deaf, and not as ignorant as the servants seemed to believe he was. He could hear the things they said about him. It was seldom very kind, with all the snide insinuations of oddity and foolishness, but it was not all bad. He was usually held in contrast to Marquise Morning Star, as the lesser of two bad ponies. There was a kind of compliment in that, being used as an example of how to be bad but not too bad.
It wasn't even a matter of being bad. Just being safe. Protected from leeches. There was nothing wrong with that. Others had the right to protect themselves from harm. He had that right as well. And he had his preferences. He liked things just so, and that often made others look poorly on him. Perhaps he did not express himself well, but it was just the same as others avoiding the things they did not like.
Blueblood sat down to eat, glumly munching on a crisp salad and a perfectly-made soup. While he ate he also took up the charcoal and started to sketch again. His technique was horrible, art being one of the traditional noble skills he had never managed to master. The thin peaks wavered and bent in all the wrong ways, looking badly distorted. Long past the point when the drawing could have any hope of salvaging he crumpled up the paper and tossed it with a groan. After another bite of salad he took another piece of paper and started again.

“Any new action out of Prince Creepyblood?” Fireclay moved into position beside Connie, the umber earth pony nudging the jenny insistently and grinning like a maniac. “I need gossip, so give it up.”
“I don't think it is very appropriate or very kind to talk about our employers like that.” Connie glanced around quickly and leaned in a bit, adding, “I have no gossip at all. It's been a while since I was called in to him. The last time was... well, never mind. It was odd but no more odd than any other time. Lime confronted me and then I guess she talked to him. He'll probably never see me or talk to me again.”
“In a way, I'm a little disappointed. This was good for some chatter. Still, I guess that means things go back to normal.”
“As normal as they get around here anyhow...” Connie looked up and found herself faced with Blueblood, who had turned a corner right in front of her. “Ah, sir. How unexpected...”
“I feel, somehow, there was a tragic misunderstanding on your part. And I will not be misunderstood if it can be helped. I therefore request and require than you come to my chamber at your earliest possible convenience to have this matter resolved and corrected. Feel free to use my name to smooth over petty problems that may arise.” With his message rather brusquely delivered, Blueblood turned and made his way up to the higher reaches of the palace.
Neither maid spoke for a long, confused moment. Fireclay finally broke the silence, staring off at where the prince had been. “Do you want a condom? Maybe a birth control crystal? He should be clean...”
“I somehow doubt it will be necessary. This is just... more of that weirdness I've come to expect. Maybe I'll get an apology...”
“Yea, and maybe parasprites will fly out of my butt. Don't count on that happening either.” Fireclay nudged Connie softly. “Need me to inform anypony? I think you need me inform somepony. I'll go inform somepony....” She started to make her way off.
“Wait!” Connie caught Fireclay's leg and hauled her back. “There's no need to be rash. And really no need to get others involved. Look... I know we joke about him all the time. But honestly, he's harmless. Sure, a jerk. But a harmless jerk. I've honestly felt more threatened and slandered by other visiting nobles, especially the Marquise d'Venus types. So don't freak out, don't call anyone. I'll go up there, get some condescending speech about how I'm too sensitive, maybe have something weird but harmless happen to my ears and then that will be the end of the matter. I already know how it all plays out. So, just calm down. I've got this.”
“If you say so...” Fireclay glanced aside at Connie, uncertain about what to do.
“I say so. Go on, get back to whatever it was you were going to do after gossiping.” Connie chuckled a bit and gave the mare a flank-bump. “This might be worth some more gossip later.” With that, Connie placidly clopped off down the hall.
Fireclay watched her fellow maid go, then zipped off after she was out of sight. “Yea, sorry Connie. Harmless or not this one needs me to pull the Banishment Option lever...”
Connie arrived at the door and gave it a timid knock. She didn't want to appear too eager to have it done with, but she didn't want to be a complete doormat. Moderation would be key in dealing with the issue. After another soft knock the door came open, to reveal Blueblood in a rather dashing terrycloth robe with silk lapels and an all-wool fez. He looked ready to receive a visitor who was either not a threat to him and undeserving of formality or who was in the inner circle and allowed to see such. She could clearly understand which she was. “Here I am, sir, as you requested.”
“So I see. Please come in.” Blueblood backed away from the door and allowed Connie in, leaving the way open, much to her delight. The room was as ever, a large, tastefully-appointed marble space, very bright and cheerful, appointed like a manor, though with the distinct 'feel' of an apartment. The only big change was over the writing desk in the front room, where there were posted up a number of papers containing thin peaks drawn in charcoal.
“Sir, if I may ask, why am I here? I am only a scullery maid, sir, and hardly worth all this time and effort that has been focused on me.”
“Do you deny me my right and power to decide what may or may not draw and keep my attention?” Blueblood looked at Connie, not quite glaring, but more trying to gauge her with his eyes.
“I would never, sir! It was not my intention to imply such a thing, sir! I merely meant to say, sir, that I am a mere menial servant and that surely there are far more grand and worthy targets of the attention of one of such status and powers as you.”
Blueblood raised a brow, smiling very subtly, just small enough to go unnoticed. “You have a very quick mind behind that self-deprecating obsequiousness. I always assumed as much... Connie.”
Connie shuddered as though stricken. There were no words or thoughts that could accurately reflect how she felt. It was fairly frightening to her, in a certain sense. When she was anonymous, her curious mistreatment was merely the luck of the draw. With her identity known it was much more sinister in nature. There was a slight tint of pride in it. To be known by a stallion of Blueblood's stature was flattering. But still... “S-sir... you... know my... name?”
“Do not presume that all the rumors you hear are true. I know that most of the staff see me as some sort of dithering buffoon. But no... I think you know better. There are hidden depths to you. I knew it from the start. You are not just pretty ears.”
“I'm afraid this is very, very inappropriate, sir. I am distinctly uncomfortable. Sir.” Connie backed up, slowly. She didn't make it to the door, but came close to it. She stopped before leaving, held back but some little uncertainty about Blueblood's malevolence.
“Are you? I do not mean to cultivate that feeling.” Blueblood actually stepped back and turned away slightly. “I know, of course, of the impressions I leave. But one thing has never been quite clear. Please, if you can before you go, tell me... do they think I am like the anathematized Marquise Morning Star?”
The uncertain jenny didn't want to answer. She wanted to run to the steam room. She wanted to lie in her bed and dream about frivolous personal electronics. She didn't want to answer questions for a stallion whose motivations were suddenly a mystery. “No, sir. They think you are, as you said, a dithering buffoon. Uh, sir.”
“You do not need to persist in calling me 'sir' in every complete or incomplete sentence.”
“No, sir. I'm afraid I do, sir. It is an essential formality of my occupation, sir. It forms the necessary distance between myself and you which has not been imposed by the obvious status you project or any matter of attire, sir. It is necessary, sir. For all of us, sir.”
“It does impose a certain distance. I find that rather uncomfortable. It makes everything much harder.”
“If I may ask, sir, what is being made harder?”
Blueblood looked at Connie with a questioning eye. “I... will take that as stated. I was hoping you would be a little less formal.”
“It is my job to be formal, sir. I am a maid, sir.” Connie cut in on Blueblood quickly, trying to wrap up the whole matter.
“I am trying to tell you... There was a reason. There was always a reason I...” Suddenly Blueblood looked far less confident. It was as if all of his bravado was fading, draining out like air from a punctured balloon. “I do not trust ponies. Or donkeys. Or griffins. Or anyone. It is... hard to do so, when my status is a prize to be taken.”
“I assure you, sir, I do not want your status. I am happy as I am in my job and my station, sir. It was good enough for my parents to work outside of the palace and raise their children with a strong work ethic, sir. It suffices me and gives me all I require, sir.”
“I never had much opportunity to be with others. And cannot interact without the use of money and status.” He was almost not speaking to Connie. His focus had drifted somewhat. “I cannot say anything directly. I need to be understood, even if I cannot say anything.”
“If I may, perhaps, be too bold, sir, I would like to remind you I am only a scullery maid. I have no power to judge you or harm you socially, sir. You may say anything you like, sir, and it will not come to harm you.”
“I... I find... that since...” Blueblood slid the fez off his head and gently wrung it in his hooves. “I have, since the day I saw you... I have rather... I like... that is to say. I...” He sucked in a breath and looked straight into Connie's face. “I really... I love your ears.”
Connie stared at Blueblood. Once more, she didn't know what to think of him. The thoughts were slightly more coalesced, but not quite there. “What did you say, sir?”
“I said, I love your ears.”
“My... ears...” There came another period of silence, with Connie contemplating her situation. Her features cracked, moving from her uncertain neutrality to a growing sorrow. “I thought you were not like that.”
“What? Like what?”
“You see my ears, sir. All of Equestria sees my ears, and they always have, sir. From the moment I was born they were all anyone saw, even among the donkeys, all my life, sir. It is the most painful point in everything, even when mentioned in a friendly manner because all I can remember is the teasing, sir. And now you... you...” Connie sniffed sharply and looked up to show her moist eyes. “I had never believed any of the bad things said about you, sir! I believed you were only puckish and out-of-touch with how others felt, sir! But I never... I never... I never knew you would be so cruel, sir! You proved, sir, you are what they only joke you are!”
“N-no! No! I... I was not! I mean I... I am...” Blueblood grasped Connie tightly, pressing her strong body into his bulky form, trying to keep her in the room.
“P-please, sir! Please let go, sir! Please..!” Her natural donkey strength would have allowed to to simply break out of the unicorn's grasp. No matter how strong, it was almost a foregone conclusion that a unicorn would lose to the strength of a donkey, as they might to an earth pony. It was not needed, however. She found the limbs letting her loose after she begged. With nothing to say and no idea what else could be done she simply ran away from the room, crying.
“I'm... sorry...” Blueblood watched her go, his huge frame slumping. He had used all his energy trying to shore up his confidence, and he had failed. He had absolutely nothing left.
“You!” Out of nowhere came Lime Sherbert, thundering up filled with righteous indignation. “I saw that! You... you... I always assumed the darker rumors were just workers blowing smoke up other folks' flanks! But you just grabbed that poor girl and she had to break out of your clutches!”
“N-no! No! I can assure you that nothing that you are thinking is so!”
“Really? Seductive bathrobe, fez, grabbing at a resisting, weeping jenny. I'd tell you what I'm thinking but I'm not comfortable talking about pornography with you. And I doubt her majesty will enjoy it much. But she will enjoy treating you to every last decibel of her voice. No getting out of it now, Prince.” Lime put all the contempt she could into his title, lighting her horn and grabbing at his fancy robe. “Time to face her majesty. Fresh from a day's rest and filled with frustration and aggravation. I almost pity you...”
> Questions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Prince Blueblood started explaining himself to Lime Sherbert the moment he was caught after his disastrous attempt to to confess his feelings for Connie. He continued his desperate explanations to the self-righteous unicorn mare and to his great-aunt Luna, growing plaintive and contrite, in a vulnerable, mewling fashion that neither had ever seen before. His tears were not crocodile drops and his whimpers were hardly rehearsed. He was genuinely sorry about any misunderstanding, and looked to be punishing himself, before Luna could get a crack at him.
“Aye, aye, have done, have done, great-nephew!” Luna called out in the Royal Canterlot Voice. “Let us not hear thy wails and lamentations any longer. Blood thou art not but thou art princely born all the same. Thou hast not been of a character like as to one, but thou hast always used thy station as means of appearing so. Dry thine eyes and stiffen thy lip! Shew not a countenance of fear when thou shalt receive thy necessary excoriation! Shew thyself in some manner worthy of the title 'Prince' and indeed of 'Pony.' Have we encountered scoundrels that bore the chastisement better. Explain thyself and all the charges brought by mine august maid then shall we note thy doom, and of what volume it may take.”
Blueblood took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and get some air back into him after all that incoherent explaining. “Y-yes great-auntie. Well... I respect Mrs. Sherbert as your eyes and ears in the palace and know she thinks she saw something bad. But it was not like that!”
“Are you saying that I'm lying? Or was I wrong about you, in your fancy robe and fez, grabbing that poor jenny?” Lime cut in quickly and poked Blueblood right on one silk lapel.
“Well, you see there was some... and there were...”
“Didst thou do as was claimed in all thy pickthank raiment and flattering words? Prevaricate not with us! Recall we art thy judge, and shall thou not bear falsehoods unto us!”
“I mean... when she tried to back out of the room I couldn't let her just slip away so I did grab her up...”
“Scalawag! Miscreaunt! Discordian! Monster!” Luna's words struck Blueblood square on, tossing him to the floor and forcing him along. “Thou hast proven thou hast not sense as resides in blindworm or mushroom! To grasp an innocent scullery maid to slake thine intemperate lusts!”
“No great-auntie! No! It was not like that!” Blueblood struggled to his side and fought to get back to his hooves. “I wanted to tell her I liked her! She didn't understand! She thought I was lying to her!”
“I think you're lying right now. My husband saw her at my door. She was there with rings of vegetation over her ears. Those ears are the source of her sadness.”
“They were laurel wreaths! I was sure she would find them delicious. She enjoyed the carrot and cabbage I gave her.”
“Laurel wreaths?” Luna looked disbelievingly down on her pseudo-nephew, bringing her head in close. “Thou didst honor her ears in such a fashion, to crown her brows with laurels?”
“My husband never mentioned laurels. He just told me there were some greens on her ears. And before I heard... hey!” Lime turned from her doubtful expression and poked at Blueblood's chest again. “I started in on this because I was informed that you were down in the kitchen not just being your usual nuisance self, but actually forcing that poor jenny to do her work over and over again until she was up to your exacting standards! You were making a mockery of her over and over. And I heard, you requested her to deliver your meals, always delaying her there with you. What were you doing?”
Luna picked up on this new thread of accusation and unleashed another torrent of her powerful voice. “Hast thou taken leave of thy very senses?! Interfering with our servitors?! Thou hast spoken ill against thyself 'afore thou hast begun! We may know thy guilt from this, it doth shew in thine intent!”
“No!” Blueblood actually started breaking down again, blue eyes large and wavering as he tried to obey his great-aunt's demand that he be strong. “No, you don't understand... I can't... I couldn't... I was weak. And I couldn't say it...”
“Your majesty...” Lime looked to the pathetic, sniveling form of Blueblood and suddenly felt a genuine stab of pity deep in her stomach. “Wait... when I was a young filly there was a young colt name Dark Skies. He really liked me. Really, really liked me. A lot. We all know what became of that.” Both she and Luna shared a laugh over that before Lime cleared her throat. “When we were five he told me that he liked me the only way little colts know how. He came up to me at recess and put a slug in my hair. Then I hit him. I think... I think the prince isn't a monster. He's just a dumb kid who has a crush on a pretty jenny.”
Luna's gaze softened considerably. She came in close to Blueblood's face, her voice down to the gentle, soothing tones of a caretaker speaking to a child. “Hast thou, our lost great-nephew, cast thine questing eye 'pon this quivering jenny for thine improper usage as the tits of tenpence thou hast fee'd i'the past... or conceivest thou some more noble prospect in this attention thou hast granted?”
“Great-auntie...” Blueblood's voice was soft as well, a fully-chastised tone. “I didn't mean it. I didn't want her to think that about me. I couldn't say it. I just gave her nice things... I didn't mean to hurt Connie...”
“You... know her name?” Lime came up again, tilting her head in disbelief. “You actually know the name of a scullery maid that you had never seen before?”
“I asked of the overseer. I needed to know.” The humbled prince looked to the mares around him. He was above Lime, yet he wasn't. He was painfully aware of how much her informal status made her superior to him. It may have been galling but that did not make it any less real. And his great-aunt was the source of his power and status, as much as Celestia was. “Am I... still in trouble?” Temporal power, and the information network of servants. He was crushed.
Luna waved a hoof dismissively and turned away. “Begone thou young and inoffensive scapegrace. Begone to thine own domain and think well how thou shalt court this maid. In all the senses thou shalt know it. Be thou no longer a recreant in these matters. No more shall we trouble thee, nor shall we aid thee. Thou art not a mere stripling, thou art grown. And our maid shall not accuse thee, lest there be cause.”
“Yes, your majesty. I'll leave him to his own endeavors.” Lime looked to Blueblood and shook her head. “Slugs in the hair only work up to a certain age. After that you need a better strategy. I'll be watching, Prince. But you're on your own.”
Blueblood gave a humble nod and scraped his hooves on the floor. “I understand. Thank you for understanding great-auntie. Mrs. Sherbert I promise that I will not hurt Connie. I can't.” He turned around and slowly trotted out of the room.
Luna watched the thick stallion go, then turned a firm gaze on Lime. “And thou, mine august maid, mine eyes and ears through the palace and receptacle of my trust... my TRUST!” She quickly whipped into the Royal Canterlot Voice and let Lime have a taste, “How canst thou perform such an action in such an intemp'rate fashion?! Hast thou no restraint?!” She went back to a normal volume afterward, tapping the ground lightly. “But indeed, I may not chastise thee too harshly. Thine intent was for the good of this jenny. Indeed, my great-nephew hath much to speak against him, that I may believe such tales. 'Twas not too great a strain to believe in such. So fortunate we have such males of whom we may be proud. Aubergine and zucchini.”
Lime adjusted her attire and mane after the shout and gave a good nod to the comment. “Indeed, your majesty. Our lovers really are something, aren't they? My husband is such a softie of a sweetheart. And B- I mean, and your 'unknown love', how is he in that regard?”
Luna sighed softly and slowly began to pace. “As ever, he is an unspleened dove, gentle and mild beneath my touch, howe'er he may act in service of the state. He doth ever prove the strength of his back, according to his inches, in all manners.” She came to rest at the window, looking out of the smoked glass upon Canterlot at evening. “It is said the interval betwixt coney-catcher and intelligencer be object of devotion. The coney-catcher doth act for fee, the intelligencer for flag. But this stallion doth serve for me.”
“What does that make him, your majesty? If conponies are in it for the money and spies for the flag, what of him?”
“What of him? A husband but lacking a ring.” Luna laughed beautifully and turned from the window. “Would I could compass his best parts in silver...”
Lime cut in sharply, “I've heard of those rings. They sell them at The Naughty Toy Box. All metals and styles, even.”
Luna broke into a tremendous, power-backed guffaw, striking the ground repeatedly with her hoof, “Aye, aye, Dame Sauce! Fie! Ring thine own husband's cod if need be! He hath no need of such artifice in support! He doth rise and stand on his own strength!”
Lime clicked her tongue and whistled softly. “More than I needed to know, your majesty. I am properly sorry for bringing that up at all. It's early in the evening. Want me to send a messenger and arrange some tea with Dame Fleur?”
Luna nodded grandly. “Aye. Thou speakest good sooth, Dame Lime.”

Connie avoided all of the other maids, especially Fireclay, who had been somewhat right. She simply slipped into her private cell in the maid's quarters and shut herself in. She threw herself on the bed and cried. What an unmitigated disaster.
It had not come out like the fears she had felt. Blueblood hadn't been a slavering brute, like one of the nasty guys in a Harlequine novel ultimately defeated by the warrior mare or honorable noblestallion. He had become rather... weird towards the end. Cruel but not so cruel.
Her ears... he had talked about her ears! Even an unfeeling clod like Blueblood could guess that they were a sensitive spot! He had been toying with them for weeks! Rabbit food, broken clothespins, ribbons, griffin feathers, greenery circles. He knew. He couldn't not know. He gave every indication. Yet he persisted. He said it. He mentioned her ears! And her name.
“My name...” She whispered into her pillow. He knew her name. He had said some surprisingly kind things in the midst of his odd rambling. A quick mind, he had said. Hidden depths. And he had even complained about being called 'sir.' He had wanted her to stop calling him 'sir.' To end his due and usually well-savored deference. He asked it of her, some maid. A maid on whom he had focused all his enigmatic and puckish energy.
A trick. Some new kind of trick to bring down her guard for some strange purpose. He was a real mystery, perhaps even more than he had been when he had simply been a strange and one-dimensional caricature used as a quick and easy punchline by the servants.
He had said there was more to himself. It was likely true. She could tell. Just the way he had complimented the quick mind behind her obsequiousness. He had had access to the finest education in the Principality, and unlike most nobles had seemingly used it to the fullest. He was not a buffoon. A blithering, spastic clown, perhaps. But surely not an idiot. Smart but not wise.
No social IQ, as they called it. His reputation spoke for itself. The incident at the Gala spoke for itself. And the whispers about being publicly humiliated by some visiting constable and being forced to pay for something he broke with much whining and complaining. He had no idea how life outside his nobility worked. It didn't make him look very good and contributed to that aura of idiocy that followed him around.
Perhaps everything had been an act. That he knew exactly what he was doing, start to finish. He had some nefarious, far-off goal in mind that required that he appear to be a harmless idiot. He could be an evil genius. His carefully-constructed machinations could have wide-ranging repercussions if he unleashed a truly surprising surprise attack on the principality...
“Really, Connie? A cheap intrigue movie? You need to stop hanging around with Fireclay.” She really was flailing down into a strange new world. With her preconceptions about Blueblood shattered and his words being very... confusing, she couldn't tell what was real and what was her imagination. Anything could be possible with that kind of sea change in the way the world worked.
She shook her head on the pillow and groaned lightly. She wasn't doing herself any favors. She would be better served with a good night's sleep, a good breakfast and some time just to forget it. If she met him again and he said anything she would be happy to pull the Banishment Option lever and set Princess Luna upon him in an instant. In payment for mentioning her ears.
She slowly closed her eyes and went to sleep with one, unbidden thought. 'All told... he's quite a well-built pony. I guess he's handsome...'

The next day was like waking up from an odd dream. Not nightmare, not fantasy, but the sort that flowed through the uncomfortable spaces between with odd delights and freakish encounters, neither too far on either side of the spectrum. She was out of that world and back into the one she knew. She rose, she ate breakfast in her retiring and anonymous way, and she went about her business in the kitchen.
She felt a certain meditative calm as the routine closed in around her like a security blanket. Scrubbing large cauldrons, washing dishes, preparing ingredients for later use, sweeping up minor debris. It was so beautifully familiar and so very regular.
Midway through the day a creeping sensation of oddity came to her mind. All the things she was doing were the usual working fare, but something about them seemed wrong. It hit her when she was sweeping up some pastry crumbs she had not noticed earlier. Her sweeping technique, such as it was, was not the natural one she had used all her life. It was the carefully modified one she had refined and distilled from Blueblood's critiques.
Thinking back on her day, all the cleaning she had done had involved the ways that Blueblood had molded through nods and shakes of his head. While that was strange enough to consider, the other part to it was that the refined techniques were actually very efficient and effective. Blueblood had not just been scowling for his own amusement. He had insight into the performance of menial tasks and knew how to make them work.
The world cracked again, as yet another facet of her presumptions vanished. He surely had never worked a day in his life, not in that rarified atmosphere. But would he have ever deigned to study something as lowly as methods of cleaning?
The cozy day of casual cleaning and normalcy dissolved into thinking about that rude and accursed unicorn. It was eminently unfair. His image and teachings burning in her brain while she toiled away and that arrogant pony was probably in his tower room lounging around, maybe with some cheap hussy mare, not sparing her a fraction of a thought, not even an unkind one.
At that moment, Blueblood's thoughts were wholly consumed by Connie. Every last consideration that sizzled through his brain had some trace of the hauntingly-beautiful jenny. It was not that he could not have her; she had not outright rejected him completely. But his poor social skills had ruined his perfect chance to try and make her see he was attracted. He had twitched right at the shield point, as they sometimes said in jousting.
He had a deep, deep hole to pull himself out of. If he made another mistake he'd probably send her off to Lime. And though Lime had promised to not hinder him, she would need to do something. Connie had already been there, even if she hadn't said anything.
She would not trust him to approach her. She would drop those big, beautiful ears, look at him with teary eyes and beg him to leave her alone. Or worse, she would show her fury and toss tart words towards him, maybe even some physical violence. She would have the right. She would be cleared of wrongdoing by the trail of evidence. He had not exactly been overtly kind to her, tainting every interaction and providing full justification for violently rebuking him.
He wouldn't be able to order her to do anything. If she was told to deliver his food she could pawn off the assignment on somepony else or simply refuse. The overseer would hardly be inclined to complain, and would likely heartily approve. If he came down to see her she would avoid him as well as she could and then be as formally polite as possible, to keep her emotions from her fellow servants. If he sent a proxy of any kind, from a letter to another pony to speak for him, she could just ignore the whole thing.
A grand, romantic gesture would ring hollow, as though he was overcompensating on an apology, and being insincere about the feeling infused in it. No pile of imported Griffin chocolates or succulent collection of Zebra flowers. He couldn't invite her for a stroll through the gardens, nor could he offer her a private box at the opera or theater. It all had the distinct whiff of desperation. Indeed, he was desperate. Tremendously so. But showing that would get him nowhere.
He was interrupted by a knock at his door, almost glad for the distraction. He took a moment to compose himself, checking his mirror to ensure his face took on the proper hard, imposing set. Properly put together, he opened the door wide. There was the jenny he never expected to see. Connie. Looking vaguely upset. She had, it seemed, gotten over her socialized submissiveness, as he always knew she would. That was rather good, actually. “Ahh yes. Yes.. to what do I owe this..?”
Connie cut him off, quickly. She spoke as though afraid she would stop and never start again. “How did you know, sir?”
“E-excuse me?” There were so many possible things that could mean, he could not choose the wrong one. It would insult her and anger her far more than she already was.
“How did you know how I could clean more efficiently, sir? It was no mere personal preference, sir, as it functioned properly. What kind of game is being played with me and do you mean it to hurt so badly, sir?”
Blueblood's breath quickened, his face faltering as he regarded Connie. It was too soon to say, too raw and base to just let it out. “In my youth...” He said, very quietly, nearly a mumble.
“Sir?”
“In my youth my parents did not... have a great capacity to care for me or enjoy my presence. I was sent to a most prestigious private boarding academy for noble ponies. Though stocked with the nobility there were traditions that would not tolerate adulteration. All the younger ponies were expected to clean, under the supervision of the older. Punishments, while necessarily slight, were very real. I was... very indolent in my youth...” He slid a hoof through his blond mane and tried to give a winning smile. “Not like now. But it was very real. However, punishments were as a personal affront to me. But as my demands for special treatment fell on deaf ears, I figured out the ways to perform my duties that did as little work as possible, while satisfying even the most overbearing of older observers. And while I did not remain there very long at all, in the scheme of things, I remembered it all.”
Connie was... stunned. She was silenced by all the information given to her. A full admission about his youth, and a history of menial servitude. Certainly, there was boasting and pride over that prestigious academy and his own nobility but... that was an unusual amount of vulnerability... it must have been a trick! Perhaps it was all true but to say it so openly... “Yes... the techniques were still very effective, sir. I presumed... sir, if I may take my leave?”
Blueblood was no good with reading faces; it was a skill he had never needed to cultivate. But he could just tell that the swirling mix of confused emotions on Connie's face did not speak of an opportune moment for courtship. He waved a hoof, with some care and gave a grand nod. “You may do so. I am glad to have helped.”
Connie winced. There it was. Condescension. An air of superiority. He was back in fine form. “Very good, sir.” With the venomous final word she trotted off again, only glancing back to drop a fast scowl.
The door closed with a soft thump, followed by several more as Blueblood hit his head repeatedly against it. He had said something wrong. He wasn't sure just what it was about his statement but it had not impressed her much. He was back where he had started, in her ill favor. “Maybe you should stick to paid mares...” He said to himself, thumping his head on the door again. “You're not so inelegantly foolish when you don't have to care.”
Connie was back down in the kitchen, attacking her job with a furious energy. Every crumb was Blueblood. Every stain was Blueblood. Every smudge, smear or piece of dirt was him. It really was quite easy to reduce his name and image to pieces of filth and then eradicate him with a cleansing motion. It worked, until the memory returned, that she was using his boarding school techniques to do it. Her grunts of frustration and contemplation of contradictions brought plenty of eyes and whispers but no real comments to her.
It wasn't until a bit later when she finally felt a presence near her. Her head whipped around and she found Fireclay, with a plate of cheesecake and a smile on her face. “Wanna split this and take a break?”
Connie gritted her teeth and considered turning it down, but finally relented with a sigh. “Get another piece. I need a great, big wedge.”
Very soon after the two of them were seated at a table, munching placidly on cheesecake. Fireclay broke the silence first, tapping her fork nervously on the plate. “So... how did it go? Did you need the condom?”
“Oh Fireclay...” Connie rolled her eyes, “It was awful but nothing at all like that. It was more strange and awkward and uncomfortable but nothing untoward. Well... no. Not untoward. Just more standard Blueblood stuff.”
Fireclay nodded slowly and chewed thoughtfully on a bite of cheesecake. “So... what did Lime say?”
“What? Lime? What are you talking about?”
“I know you told me not to, I know. But come on, Connie... it's Blueblood. I ran off and told Lime exactly what happened. She went down there to give Blueblood his due, via Luna's voice.”
“Fireclay! I told you... and then you went and did it. I had no idea. I left long before she arrived. Whatever happened, I have no clue.”
“I've heard things, but all indirect. There was plenty of yelling, but no one knows what was said. It was properly intense. He really got it.”
“Good...” Connie thought to Blueblood's vulnerability. He had looked like himself, and capped his talk with his usual insulting ways. But in the middle... “I guess that takes care of everything.”
“All for the best. After all, he was just in it to have a laugh at your ears. I'll bet you're glad all that's over.”
The drawer of special things in her cell was well-stocked. The beautifully-carved, darkly-stained clothespins; the wonderfully smooth and colorful ribbons; the rare and impressive Bald Eagle Griffin feathers; she even saved the rings of vegetation and found they made the drawer smell absolutely wonderful, probably the intent. Even a delicious carrot and cabbage leaves for her, for no reason at all. She pushed the cheesecake away and rose suddenly. “It's not quite over yet. I need to clear up one thing. Thanks for the break, see you... eventually.”
Connie made her way up through the palace once more. It was no mystery why she was in such good shape, given all her activity of late. She wailed away on Blueblood's door, thumping it firmly and repeatedly. After opening it and expressing proper surprise the Prince asked, “How may I help y-?”
“I will ask you a question. And I wish for an honest answer.”
There were many comments to be made, but the one that finally came out was, “You did not call me 'sir.'”
“You requested that I not. And so I have not. If the distance will be bridged, then let it be so. I ask this in that spirit. Treat me as one close as you wish me to be, and give me the respect of honesty.”
Blueblood gave a small smile and nodded his head. “I will honor your request. Ask the question you want.”
Connie sucked in a deep breath and stood as tall as possible. “The other day, in your rambling statements and confused speech... you mentioned my ears. The source of my pain and my shame. They mean only embarrassment to me... but... you said you loved them. Ribbons, griffin feathers, carved clothespins, food from your own plate... you seemed to mean it. But tell me... tell me truthfully... do you love my ears alone?”
Blueblood's mouth went dry and his throat practically closed. He was confronted by the direct question, asked by Connie, unafraid and demanding the truth. He was not ready, he had no gifts, no way to calm her in case he said something wrong, no escape hatches or plans upon plans... “The ears are a crown for your beauty...” He said quietly. “The laurel wreaths were supposed to say as much. But no... I do not love your ears alone. I...” He couldn't He shouldn't. He had to. “I love you.”
> The Agreement
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The two stared at each other, Blueblood fairly flustered and practically sweating after his confession, Connie moving between disbelief and anger. She made up her mind in the moment that she leaned up and planted her lips on Blueblood's, holding tight for a long, uncomfortable moment. The kiss was very awkward for both of them, neither one able to get truly comfortable in the press. Connie pulled back with a gasp, panting and dropping her head. Blueblood took the opportunity to speak, saying, “You know, I never really thought about how it...”
Connie placed a hoof on the Prince's lips. “Shut up and kiss me again.”
“Right away.” Cowed into submission by Connie's firmness and self-assurance Blueblood leaned in again for another kiss. He was pathetically bad at it, truly horrible from a lack of practice and no real idea what was expected in a kiss. He kissed paid mares, but they were always positive. He could tell from the way Connie moved her head and lips that he was not impressing her at all. Suddenly, or not so suddenly, that mattered quite a lot.
Connie was unimpressed. No status or nobility could make up for bad kisses. She had kissed jennies and jacks, she was not a blushing innocent. She had dated, but never well. She had never found the right one for her. Blueblood was the weakest of all the kissers, but he was the one that actually fascinated her most. The frustration, the confusion, the mystery. He had hurt her. But... she broke the kiss and shook her head. “You really hurt me.”
“I'm terribly sorry.” Blueblood looked down with a hangdog expression.
“You put things on my ears. My ears!” Connie screamed
“I'm terribly sorry,” Blueblood mumbled.
“You can see they'd be a sore point. I mean... don't you have any tact at all?” Connie asked.
“I'm terribly sorry,” Blueblood mumbled.
“Still... they were such beautiful things...” Connie said with a falling tone.
“I'm terri- what?” Blueblood's head snapped up so fast it was a miracle he did not get whiplash.
“Calm down... the carrot and the cabbage leaves were delicious. I was confused and a little insulted but they were tasty. And... off of your own plate. I never realized but you gave up something of yours, generosity no one has ever noted from you. The clothespins are beautifully carved, the ribbons are beautiful and those feathers... where did you get Bald eagle griffin feathers?” Connie queried.
“Diplomatic exchanges often include significant trinkets. They were from a minor noble of the Griffin Kingdom who had been sent to negotiate a trivial matter. Why do you think I was given the task of helming the talk?” Blueblood laughed a bit hollowly. “My uselessness is often useful...”
“None of that. I'm the one who gets to be mad right now.” Connie actually laughed a bit and gently patted Blueblood on the cheek. “So, Lime really had a talk with you. Did she take you to her majesty?”
“Yes. It was very... very...” Blueblood faltered, with a motion of his hoof.
“No need to say it. I told Lime not to bother on my behalf, and Fireclay was the one that went to Lime, after I told her not to. I'm not sorry it happened... but I wanted to take care of this in my own time,” Connie noted.
“You and I are in agreement. I am not sorry it happened. Oh certainly, it was hard on the ears. Great-auntie is good about punishing the guilty. But she understood... I am only a stupid colt,” Blueblood said with a fall of his ears.
“Oh I told you not to-” Connie began.
“No!” Blueblood took his old commanding tone, a harsh look passing over his face. But it was not directed to Connie. He looked away, meaning it for himself. “It was all true. I was forced to see myself as I am. A stupid colt, thinking that one told the object of their affection of love by putting slugs in their mane.”
Connie reflexively dropped her ears and stroked them with one hoof. “Little colts and jacks used to put all manner of bugs on them... but they did not like me. I was... liked. Now and then some would try to get close. I focused on my work because I knew work would never hurt me. Until...”
“I made your work hurt you. I am terribly-” Blueblood started.
“Shush.” Connie put a hoof on Blueblood's lips again, shaking her head. “Apologize again and I'll really make you sorry.” A laugh broke between the two of them, and she leaned in for another, quicker kiss. “You're a terrible kisser. Really, really terrible.”
“I had no practice. Paid mares would say that a statue kissed well. They try to be very supportive of their clients, after all. But good lies do not help with a real problem. I suppose I must somehow improve my skills in that technique. Is there any way I could persuade you..?” Blueblood asked.
“Just say you want to kiss me. You don't lose your pony license by admitting you want to kiss a donkey,” Connie said with a small laugh.
“I do want to kiss you... and your species never mattered to me. Only your ears... and your beautiful coat. And your luscious mane. The curve of your strong back cannot be denied. And then there are your eyes. And those velveteen lips. They looked so soft but feeling them...” Blueblood said dreamily.
“Yes, yes, you like my body. What about my mind?” Connie demanded.
Blueblood laughed, a light and airy tone that was without nerves. “Your mind... sublime. Lightning fast and wonderfully creative. I was right, from the start. As I said, so quick behind all that scraping servitude. I almost thought you knew. Smart, beautiful, and not hitting me at the moment. I believe I have found the perfect combination of traits.”
“Don't think I didn't consider it.” Connie laughed softly herself. “But even if I was in the right, I didn't because that would have been inappropriate. Until that moment when you grabbed me you were just quirky and bizarre, as all the rumors said. And you did have the decency to let me go after I asked. I did also notice you did not push yourself on me further or demand I return. If I made you cry... I'd be cheeky but you don't deserve it. I'm sorry if I did.”
“I did cry... after a time. After I was punished by great-auntie Luna for what I did not do. And because of what I did. It all came in at once. I do not suppose that you would care to find this admission somehow endearing?” Blueblood asked, looking up somewhat shyly.
“I find that admission honest, and vulnerable. And I like that. It was one thing that surprised me and that made me question your motives. Forgive me my weakness, I blame it on my fellow maids, but I imagined you as a mustache-twirling villain in some intrigue movie,” Connie laughed.
“Well now...” Blueblood stroked his face lightly and considered that for a moment. “I must say... though hardly a flattering thought in the main, there is something to be said for that as compared to other rumors of my nature. It has a good deal more class than a standard buffoon or pervert.”
“Well, I thought that too. I thought a lot of things. You know, I almost didn't come up here. I was almost ready to write you out of my life entirely. It was that off-hoof comment. How you were glad you helped me. I suppose you did. But you don't just say it like that. It makes you sound like a condescending jerk. And I am willing to suspect that you're not really that, at heart,” Connie said.
Blueblood reflexively rubbed his head, right on the spot he had repeatedly knocked against the door following that very exchange. “I am glad you changed your mind. What altered your opinion? Further reflection on my intent?”
“Ha!” Connie patted the prince's cheek and gave it a kiss. “I wasn't thinking about your intent. That was the farthest thing from my mind. I was cleaning you in effigy.” She held up a hoof to the look of confusion she got. “Not important. Anyhow... Fireclay came by while I was attacking my work like a manticore on a fish and offered me cheesecake and a break. Both were highly therapeutic. And that was when I found out she had actually gone to Lime and that you had been yelled at. Then I thought about your vulnerability, the confession of youth activities, and all the things you gave me. I suddenly had to know. I had to know your motivation. If it was all a cruel prank or if you really...”
“I do...” Blueblood slowly reached out and stroked a hoof along one ear. Connie trembled, and the ear flopped down, but his hoof went down to it, stroking it gingerly once more. “And all the rest. Ears to hooves, nose to tail, as they say.”
Connie gave a breathy, nervous laugh, trying to find a position that made her feel comfortable with the gesture. She expected, at any moment, ridicule and derision, or a bug, but could not deny that the caring, soft stroke was very pleasant. “'They' sound pretty nice. And I've gotta say... this, you're very good at.”
“I must confess... do not praise me too highly. I am not really trying as I should...” Blueblood looked down at his hoof stroking that soft, beautiful ear. “I am not doing this with intent and technique. I only wanted to touch one, and wanted you to feel good, to enjoy my efforts. So I am only letting my hoof work as it will.”
Connie kissed the hoof and gave a cheeky grin. “Your hoof is very talented. Your lips could learn a few lessons from it.”
The big unicorn laughed, leaning down to kiss the ear. “I will arrange the tutelage right away. I really do wish to impress you, Connie.”
“Say my name and you will, Prince Blueblood,” Connie breathed.
“Blueblood,” said.
“What? No, that's too close too fast. Distance. Just a bit of distance,” Connie said with a motion of a hoof.
“Do you not wish to be close to me?” Blueblood struck a charming pose and gave his best 'male model' face.
“Not as much as you want to be close to you.” Connie gave him a playful shove which, owing to her donkey strength, moved him a bit more than she intended. “But really... we just came through a real maelstrom of emotions and actions. This has been coming to a head for a while. It needs some time to cool off and normalize. If it is meant to be, we'll still be civil to one another, and more.”
Blublood nodded sagely and dipped his head to Connie. “You are correct, of course. That brilliantly quick mind shows itself once more. I am almost amazed by your sagacious practicality.”
“We donkeys are a very practical species. Don't worry. I have already had my moment of thinking that you are quite handsome. I doubt I will be reversing my decision on that,” Connie said.
“Really now? Handsome, you say?” Blueblood was back to posing, stroking his chin softly. “Just where did your thoughts go in that direction? You know I am considered quite the looker. Magazines just love to have me on the cover.”
“Oh yes. I know the Monthly Planetary News would enjoy having you on the cover as one of the strange beasts supposedly found somewhere remote.” Connie responded flatly, with a roll of her eyes. “Get those kinds of thoughts out of your head... flattering though it is that you're imagining my body responding to how you think I'm responding to you. I just thought that you were handsome. I never really thought that way about a pony. Truth to tell it has been a while since I thought that about anyone.”
“So what you're really saying is that I not only turned your head to a new species but I awoke your inner intimate desires once more?” Blueblood's look and voice were smug, to the point of comedy. He knew what he was saying and doing. He was blatantly playing.
“Oh ha-ha, very funny.” Connie pushed him again, but more lightly. “You're handsome. And you seem to know it. I'll admit it. But that only goes so far. Another thing I need is time to know you, the real one, not the reputation, the rumors or the facade you presented to me. Maybe a date or two. Folks go on those.”
“Folk do go on those, yes, it's true. And they are found to be quite pleasant by all accounts.” The prince returned to slowly petting one of Connie's ears, finding his spirits lifted by the fact that she did not pull away. “It would be my honor and privilege to go on several dates with you.”
“Really now, Prince? You would let yourself be seen in public with a donkey? To be photographed in the upper reaches with a mere scullery maid?” Connie asked with a lift of a brow.
“I would let myself be seen with you. Allow me to tell you a secret. As far as I have ever been concerned there are three strata. My great-aunt, and now great-aunts, myself, and all the rest of the world. Their thoughts of me, meaningless. Their thoughts of you, mere wind and spilled ink. Were I a more poetic pony I would say some glittering words, perhaps something very like, from the moment you were born you were in my sphere, but I was too foolish to know it. I am grateful you finally told me. Your place has been vacant for too long,” Blueblood said with a sweeping gesture of a leg.
Connie waved off the flattery with a deep blush and turn of her head. “Get out of here with that, I'm older than you. Maybe by just a few months but I am. I like sappy mush as much as the next jenny that reads Harlequine novels at night and giggles over the kissing scenes, but I am also very practical, as you said.”
Blueblood leaned in with a very teasing look. “Well now, the mysteries are solved one by one. Did you ever put my face upon the heros' bodies when stallions were involved, after setting your own lovely features upon the swooning damsels?”
“I almost feel like I should leave and let you be alone with your ego. I accepted the faces as they were written, as I would when watching a movie. Perhaps, perhaps, you understand, I imagined myself in the hold of a jenny or jack in the rare cases of one of them being the heroic one. Perhaps there was a dose of whimsey and frivolity in my staid practicality. What harm is there in imagining being swept off your hooves and off to a romantic happy ending? I could still work the next day,” Connie said defensively.
“No harm, no harm at all. It suits you. It seems to have helped you. There's certainly no fun in working all day long. Perhaps you will ridicule me for saying so, but there's a great deal of pleasure to be had from a dash of indolence during the day,” Blueblood said.
“More than a dash, I would think. And you're right, I'd ridicule you for saying that if I didn't think you were right. I like to think I balance work and leisure well enough. I do thoroughly enjoy access to the palace spa. I'm not one for the hooficures or the ponypedis or the styling or any other frivolous thing. But there is something to be said for a soothing mud bath, a soak in the hot tub, and a delicious sauna. I may converse with friends and discuss the events and rumors of the day. That is how they spread, you know. All the areas of the palace can converge and pass along what they have heard and seen,” Connie explained.
“Could they ever forgive you for spilling their secrets in such a fashion?” Blueblood asked.
“Oh honestly, who would you tell? And to what end? Besides... I owe you a secret or two, for all the honesty you have laid bare before me,” Connie said with a blush.
Blueblood gave a slow nod, and began to pace a bit. “Yes... my honesty. A gift to you, as real as the clothespins or ribbons. I owed you so much for hurting you. When you asked I answered, without shame or hesitation. You owe me nothing. I paid you for all my flaws and faults. In the end, I will always owe you more than I can ever pay. You may not know, but from the moment I saw those lovely ears droop under my foolish, withering words, you were perfect for me.”
Connie kept pace with the mobile unicorn, looking up at his face from a lower perspective, to gauge the exact nature of his feelings. “I have no idea what that means. Is this another poetic moment, like me being your perfect match even though you were still a lump hidden by your mother's puffy dress?”
Blueblood actually gave a rather strong chuckle at that assessment and allowed a wry smile to curl his lips. “How you hit the truth. Mother was another proper society mare. Pregnancies were better unseen and unmentioned. They interrupted style, after all. Your mind is like lightning, fast and strong. But no... my father was not a warm stallion, not given to displays of affection or encouragement. But he was a great fan of the strong admonition. His favorite topic, nearly the only one, was the repeated message of caution, to beware of those coming for my power. They would attach, like leeches, to draw off my wealth and status. If I was not cautious of them all, I would be taken by them, used as a mere pawn while another profited at my expense. That is why all my female company has been paid, and why my coterie of nobles has ever been of the sycophantic variety that always knew their place as a scraping secondary, there at my will and pleasure and able to be dismissed with a single gesture.”
“It's a tough life, being the prince.” Connie was not quite dismissive, but she still rolled her eyes. “I hear a lot of boasting, not without cause, I'll be the first to admit. But why does your bad childhood and issues with a cold father mean that you owe me anything?”
“Because you fulfilled every requirement of the admonition I have lived to uphold all my life. You broke through my paranoia and loathing of close company. You did not come for me. I pursued you, I desired you. You did not want me, you pushed me away. Strange as it is to say, I love that most of all. Your intentions, now that you have them, are pure. I could always trust you. Now you no longer need to wonder if you can trust me. I offer you my self. A prize. Many would give everything to have me, you know,” Blueblood said with a charming smile.
“Yes, I believe we covered the size of your ego.” Connie laughed and give Blueblood a little nudge. “But this time, I get it. The intrigue-lovers and status-seekers would sacrifice everything to get you in a vulnerable spot and use that to their nefarious ends. Not just because you make delicious eye-candy, if I may be so sexist, but because all you command would be theirs. Favors galore and the respect of lesser nobles, to do... any number of things. Influence peddling, with the highest value chip possible.”
Blueblood looked quite impressed. “Harlequine novels?”
“You don't learn everything in school.” She winked and stroked one hoof over one of Blueblood's ears. “I think I understand a little more about you now. And that was just what I wanted."
“But you will still call me 'Prince', I suspect,” Blueblood noted.
“I don't recall you taking me out to a fancy restaurant or to a performance of one of the classic plays. I may understand a bit more about you, right here at your door. But I don't know you when you are out in the upper terrace, having to deal with those eyes. The cruel and judgmental eyes...” Connie said, ending in a thousand-yard stare.
Blueblood leaned in and kissed his way down one long ear, from the tip to well inside the cup. “I will not diminish your fear or your pain. I know you suffered. And you were right to make me pay for continuing it all. But... I see those eyes too. And the tongues as well. Buffoon. Dolt. Idiot. Waste of space. Useless vestigial limb. I have heard them all. Seen folk look at me with open contempt, then smile their poison smiles and scrape the ground on their bellies looking for a chance to be in my company. If we will be derided, let it be together. Perhaps as one we may be envied for our poise and happiness.”
Connie tried to pull away from the rubbing and kissing. It felt too good. She never allowed herself to feel that good with anyone. But she didn't really try all that hard, not when the soothing words and admissions flowed like honey over her. “One night. Dinner, and a fine show in one of the royal boxes that are visible from many angles. No slippery prevaricating about my identity or quick denials we are there together. Wear what you will but I will have on my maid's attire, so there are no mistakes. Bear it that one night, before the face of Equestria, and I will cease calling you 'Prince.'”
“You put me in an awkward position, you know,” Blueblood said.
“Do I now, prince? Tell me what position is most awkward for you. Is it that I am a jenny smart enough to match your mind, that I have a will in me, that I am a lowly scullery maid or are you finally to admit my species really does matter?” Connie questioned, a dash of venom in her voice.
A pleased smile passed over Blueblood's features as each thing was laid out, and he let out a soft nicker. “You do not need to convince me. I said I would go on a date with you. No, my position is... if you think I am a bad kisser, you may well imagine I am a far worse date. What do I know of courtship? I thought you would like me if I tied ribbons to your ears and threw laurel wreaths over them.”
A blush broke out across Connie's face. She was still thinking in terms of rumor and supposition. She had to trust him. He already trusted her. And with both Lime and Luna knowing what was going on... “Did her majesty tell you to be kinder to me?”
“She advised me to follow my heart, in essence. I was to find a less... foalish solution to admitting my feelings. I considered the standards, Grand Veldt flowers, Griffin chocolates, pastries of the upper terrace, even non-comestibles like United Colony gemstones. I dismissed them because you were still upset. It was only luck you came to let me offer you truth. Though I surmise you might still enjoy the other things,” Blueblood said.
“They might not come amiss.” Connie gave a high laugh and cleared her throat. “So... you are a bad date? Perfect! You can join the parade of other bad dates that I've had. The only difference will be your short ears and the horn on your head. You're actually serious about it, though. This is not a dare nor a prank so you're already withers and flanks above the rest. Despite your bad kissing and bad dating I think this could go very well. This could also be an unmitigated disaster of the highest order. But I've never been to a fancy restaurant, I've always wanted to see a nice play and you already say you owe me. I can take it for one night.”
“I do not think I ever would have predicted this outcome. My previous estimation of a good ending was being slapped across the face and suffering with a broken jaw for a time. A little time would heal the wounds, both emotional and physical, and we could then reach this point. Your restraint is most magnanimous,” Blueblood said with a smile.
“I wanted you to suffer. Then I wanted you to pay. Now watching you be sincere will suffice. There's no going back after this,” Connie said seriously.
“You will find my sincerity pleasant, if a bit awkward. I have not had to be sincere for quite some time. How shall I send word about the time and date of our date? Perhaps a small guard detachment to deliver the formal letter. A page might do, for a short trip. There is something to be said for the pomp, however...” Blueblood considered.
“How about you come down to the kitchen, find me at work, and then tell me the day and time? And give me some time to do the usual things like have my uniform cleaned and my mane done. I may not like it but I understand there is a certain level of elegance required,” Connie suggested.
“Yes. I suppose that would be the simplest solution. I am finding this donkey practicality has many answers to difficult questions,” Blueblood said happily.
“It may not solve everything but it helps. Now... Prince Blueblood... I think I should take my leave. Fireclay and my cheesecake are both waiting on me. I'll be waiting. Don't keep me there very long,” Connie warned.
“But to be a jenny in waiting must surely be an enviable position.” Blueblood laughed at his own joke, then cleared his throat when he got only a playful glare from Connie. “It shall not be too arduous a wait. Until then...” He grandly swept up a shod hoof and kissed the exposed portion, then placed a kiss on the tip of each ear. “Try to keep my face in mind.” He popped his eyebrows and gave a sultry wink.
Connie dissolved into laughter that nearly sent her to the floor. After recovering most of her composure she leaned in to plant one on Blueblood's lips. “Mm, terrible. Terrible.” With that she trotted off down into the depths of the palace.
Blueblood was about to head into his room when he noticed Lime Sherbert standing down another corridor. Though she looked hard and unfriendly she suddenly broke into a bright smile and gave a nod. “Her majesty will wish to see you in her chambers later. I will inform her of your coming and the reason you have come. Doubtless, she will give you passes to her personal box and a long, long discourse on the theatrical productions you ought to see. Take it in stride, she means well and is very excited by all things theatrical.” She turned to trot away but thought better of it, turned her head and noted, “Don't worry, Dark Skies didn't kiss very well either. If she takes pity on you you'll get in enough practice to make it worth her while.”
> Anticipation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“So like I told you, the matter is concluded.” Connie casually ate from her cheesecake, looking quite relaxed and content with herself.
“So... what happened up there? Gossip with me some! Come on. You spent a lot of time up there. A bit more time than it ought to take to tell him to kiss your undertail. Did he do some more ear stuff? Because it's really bordering on an obsession.” Fireclay practically whined at Connie, her dessert nearly forgotten.
“We had a civilized, adult discussion, made possible by her majesty softening him up for civility, if you know what I mean.”
“Her majesty's voice can certainly tenderize anyone, but it must have really been amped up to knock the road apples out of Blueblood like that. She probably hired DJ P0n-3 to rig up a sound system to make it that much more powerful. I heard she was being arranged for.”
“I wouldn't say that exactly but it was at least pleasant. We ironed out the difficulties, I figured out why he was fixated on my ears, we had it out and a proper, civil solution was arranged. It's nice to have closure on the matter.”
“I guess...” Fireclay looked down and picked a bit sullenly at the cheesecake wedge before her. “I know it sounds selfish and maybe a bit creepy because of the chance of him hopping on your back all of a sudden but I'm actually sorry it's over. It was a great way to get up gossip, and the weirdness made for some great conversation in the sauna. Now I'll have to use my emergency 'ask Rose Topaz if she ever had to knock a guy in the gem pouch' conversation starter to add some excitement to sitting around and sweating.”
“Live the dream, Fireclay, live the dream.” Connie rolled her eyes and took another bite of cake. “Seriously, don't you have your own life to provide your weird stories or do you live vicariously through the rest of us?”
“When I need weird stories I go on a date. Speaking of...” Fireclay popped her eyebrows and winked. “I've never dated a jenny before, and you're single.”
“What a great lead-in line. Why do I think that I need to have you investigated for being creepy in the bedroom? I almost hesitate to ask how many pieces of rubber and plastic you own, and what forms they take.”
“Come on, you know I'm a lot of fun, and after all this Blueblood nonsense you could probably use a night out. And if there's some night in action isn't that just better?”
“I'm gonna pass, Fireclay. I'm just not into you that way. You're a friend and a good co-worker but I don't want to date anyone right now.”
“If you say so.” Fireclay returned to her dessert then looked up and gave a smile. “Worth a shot, right?”
“What about Rose Topaz? Weren't you going to see about getting up to some mischief with her?”
“I'm holding off on that. She's just... I don't know. She's too special for me to just leap up and ask for it.” Fireclay shrugged and looked aside.
“Well thanks for that one, I'm not specia-” Connie halted in the middle of her wounded grumbling when a thought struck her and she gave Fireclay a huge smile. “You like her! You really really like her like her! Oh my goodness that's fantastic! The great Lotharia actually has a real crush!”
Fireclay looked on, deadpan, with a gargantuan blush also reddening her umber face. “Are you done yet?”
“Wait, one more.” Connie let out a huge, braying laugh that echoed a little bit around the kitchen. After clearing her throat and fluffing her mane a bit she settled down. “Okay, now I'm done. Sorry but... you asked for that one.”
“Maybe I did and maybe I didn't... still, it's true. With my reputation it won't be easy selling a little romance to her. Maybe I ought to just give it up and keep going with the plastic and rubber.”
“No! No! Well... yes, you'll still need that but you can share them with someone you love. There's no reason to just give up. Show some backbone and actually go for what you want.”
“I guess you're right.” Fireclay reached across the table and nudged Connie playfully. “Look at you after confronting Creepyblood. Somejenny sure grew a set of robust ovaries today.”
“I'm a donkey. I am loaded with ovarian fortitude. But let's just eat. I've gotta get back to work. You probably do too. After all, Lime Sherbert knows where you work, and it isn't here.”
At the mention of the name Fireclay's head came up and she looked around with a paranoid energy. “Right, right, keep your voice down. Just eat faster.” The fork fairly flew as Fireclay stuffed her gob with cheesecake, much to the grinning delight of the more sedately-eating Connie.

“Great-auntie, I thank you most graciously for allowing me an audience.” Blueblood bowed low, his body protesting the motion. He bowed to nopony! Yet he did. To his great-aunts, and if Connie would allow it, to her as well.
“Tush! Spare us thy pickthank tales, young nephew. Are we not made for suits and audiences? Aye, our time be overmuch stuff'd with such tedium. In sooth, we do thank thee for thy call for audience. All other suitors were canceled so as to give all time and attention to thy presence.” Luna sat straight and regal on her suit-receiving throne, looking down on Blueblood as he knelt inside the alabaster square for petitioners.
“I am only too happy to serve you. Better that than be yelled at...” Blueblood laughed softly and shook his head a bit. “But I have a serious matter I must discuss with you.”
“Aye, hath our maid told us previous. Thou hast left thy fondness in dust and rust to be consumed to naught. Now shalt thou take this sweet and innocent jenny out to the light of all, to be caught in the beams of the eyes of all our domain. We did not anticipate it should e'er be thus, but in all trueness, we are much pleased with thee, nephew. Blood art thou not, thou art princely titled, but thou art now of princely cast. Mockest thou the like of a true prince, and it speaketh much good of thee. In what wise may we aide thee and thy tender jenny?”
It took Blueblood a moment to answer, as he parsed and translated what had been said so he could confirm he was still in Luna's good graces. “Well, great-auntie, you see, she wants a proper date, and I have no experience with such...”
“Hold thy tongue, young churl! Insolent scapegrace! To tell such tales before our very ears! What hast though heard of the loose-tongued? How canst thou imply we have some knowledge of how one courts?!” Luna treated Blueblood to a dose of her glaring and a small lick of the Royal Canterlot Voice.
“What? No, great-auntie! I haven't heard anything, I am saying I have no idea how to date and I can only guess from what has been in books. I needed advice on good restaurants and a good performance.” Blueblood cowered on the ground, too shocked by the sudden mood swing to wonder about what rumors he had been missing during his mooning over Connie.
Luna's features fell into a very quick twist of her lips and a sudden widening of her eyes. Fortunately, her features were back to normal by the time Blueblood happened to look up to her. She coughed very casually into a hoof and adjusted her attire with a nervous energy. “Put from thy mind all that thou thinkest thou hast heard. Twas naught save thy fancy, a touch of the moon as hast been said. Thou hast need of food and diversion? 'Tis a passing fair choice. Shall thou be much pleased by this. Well do we know of grand eateries who would take of thee thy letters of credit, lest thou should need of us some stipend to grant this joy to thy donkey dearest?”
“I have funds sufficient for what I understand are the usual prices of restaurants that would serve as a suitable place for us. I find I have so much more in my accounts when I am not buying friends and... intimacy. Any suggestions you can give me would be greatly appreciated.”
“Shall we send to thy chamber a most exhaustive list with all we do know of them, that thou may select at thy leisure with full comprehension of all features and offerings. Thus will thy bellies be filled. Now to thy minds... aye, the sublime pleasures of theater and thespian. Each performance house hath by nature its own delight, and by each troupe may thou experience some new facet of the well-chiseled jewel of the playwright's art. Be thou led not astray by these nobles and all their tum-headed foppery. Believest thou not that there may only be proper acting of the grand palaces of the nobility, as Urbi et Orbi. Any theater may possess charm and more may present a face as yet unknown and unpraised, yet no less grand. As well there be much charm in troupes not seen fit to play 'pon stages set afore the peers. The play's the thing, as 'tis said.”
Blueblood did his best to hide a slight smile. “Yes, Lime Sherbert did say that you would wax quite poetic on the subject of theaters and performers. I don't want to set the wrong tone for our date, so perhaps I should avoid anything too grim, and of course stay away from anything too... intimate.”
“Thou hast not very much remaining with restraints as thou hast placed. Into each drama must come a touch of the grim, else there be naught to sustain. And in all comedy must come some flavor of the bawd, else how may it be styled comedic? Art thou not mature? May thou and thy dear lady jenny not sit and listen as the entendres fly yet still not be inflamed with lust? Surely thou may bear a two hour traipse through land of drabs and beccos yet end with chaste kiss 'pon innocent lips and retire thou to separate chambers?”
“I suppose you are correct, great-auntie. There's no harm in a little naughty humor from your day. It has survived this long and very likely will continue on to the future. And I know that thanks to your influence those kinds of productions are everywhere. Though... meaning no offense to you, I have to say that I will need to see it in a big and glittering theater. It was not my idea. Connie said she wanted something grand, a royal box where she could be seen, to ensure I was not simply hiding her away.”
“Aye... aye, thy better half doth speak good sooth. Thou art not shamed by her presence, thou shalt find much joy as she sit by thy side that all may see and envy thee thy fortune. May they wail and gnash teeth in impotent rage as they see thee content and glorified by presence of this jenny. This should be and so it shall! Well do we know of what production may thou find to be of much diversion. The players may be arranged, as thou may need them. Shall thou have sister's royal box, and shall we hear no objection. Our own box be not suited to thy purposes, 'tis too occult. May thy companion be hidden within, not displayed. 'Tis of suitable character for our devices... but let that pass! Tell us but date and time thou wilt be 'pon the town with Connie and shall we arrange actors and stage for thy amusement.”
“I have not decided yet. I wanted to be sure that I was ready. That I would not make an absolute idiot of myself by taking her to the wrong place or to the wrong show. I have already made more mistakes than for which I should be able to be forgiven. Her continued interest in me is nothing more than a sign of her generosity, or perhaps her desire to be entertained by my fumbling buffoonery.”
“Nay nephew, she doth only shew her great perspicacity and sagacity. She hath capability to see within thy bulk, beyond air and pretension, beyond rumor and innuendo, to the small and trembling truth within thee. Her vision doth rival griffins in sharpness if she may see so deep within thee to such a target of size that it be. And thou must needs be grateful. She hath seen the truth within thee and doth choose that thou shalt be by her side, at least in this instance. She doth see within thee some element that doth suit her. Thus you become suitor and suitable. Shew thou this princely countenance as thou hast in this audience and she shall remain by thy side.”
“I certainly hope so. I will await the restaurant list. Once I have chosen a place, and a day, I will inform you, so you may arrange the entertainment.” Blueblood rose from his supplicant position and turned to step off of the alabaster square. He turned around again and gave a smile and nod of his head to Luna. “Thank you, great-auntie, for all this help. I don't know what I would do without you.”
Luna waved him off casually, with a smile on her face. “Fie, fie young nephew. 'Tis ever as it must be, that wise mares do arrange the romances of their fond and flighty stallion relatives. This hath not changed in a thousand years, howe'er much males have advanced in society. Shall this be a grand affair, and shall thou be most happy as it concludes.”
Blueblood blushed a bit and turned around again. “I know, I will. Thank you again, great-auntie.” With that he slowly trotted out of the room.

“I've had a lot of bad dates. I mean, a ridiculous number of bad dates. And ridiculously bad bad dates.” Connie sedately sipped a cup of tea inside a nicely-decorated living room, casting her eyes around appreciatively. While it was small, it was at least a separate room, with attached kitchenette and breakfast nook, sans picture window, and a door to the bedroom. “I would, of course, like to avoid that this time. I rather like this one.”
“Not something I expected to hear about Blueblood.” Lime Sherbert sat across the table from Connie, smiling and setting a pastry on the plate near her. “But then, I've come around on other scoundrels... errr, forget I said that. So, you've had a series of losers, have you?”
“I would like to be kind about it, but I can't. To be as blunt as possible most of them were there on a dare or to put the punchline on a joke with their friends. Even when there was an earnest one they couldn't get past these things.” Connie lifted up one ear and sighed. “Even to donkeys they're a bit much.”
“Sounds like a severe failure on their parts. It takes a good dose of maturity and clarity of thought to do more than look past your ears but even to embrace them and admit that they are not a deal breaker or might actually be beautiful... once again... I never thought I would say it of Blueblood. This is a strange time to be alive.”
“With time, distance and reflection I can see that all these jokes we all make about Blueblood are terribly unfair. Yes, he's annoying and has his strange ways. But they were shaped by his life. He shared some thing with me in confidence and I will keep that, of course, but it is enough to say that part of the blame is his upbringing. He really is not such a bad fellow. A bad kisser but these things take time.”
“Well, my taste runs to the pegasus set, naturally, and more of the 'chiseled, statue-like, trained professional' than the 'puffed-up, blow-dried pretty-colt' type. But I understand they can be reasonably popular. They seem to populate the covers of my magazines. So, if that's what you like, good on you.” Lime toasted Connie and grinned.
“Please try not to hold this against me but I stayed with my own species before this. Blueblood is the first pony I ever thought of that way. Yes, I know. I already expect him to be insufferable, no need to warn me to be prepared.” Both women laughed and clinked their teacups.
“As long as you are ready.” Lime levitated over a small snack. “Apple fritter? It is one of her majesty's favorites. May as well enjoy it while you can. He's not a big fan of carnival-type foods. He's not a big fan of a lot of things. But I guess there's a tragic backstory to that. Still, you might as well. He's going to just feed you rich, expensive, carefully-crafted treats, probably from Gustave and Joe. Wow. I'm talking down his choices but I'm just making it sound better.”
“Oh, leave it to me. I'll have him eating funnel cakes and drinking a juice box in a month.” They both shared another laugh and clink over that. “Really though... however this may go... I don't want to change him too much. Bring him out of his shell, clean him up a bit and make him presentable so the silly rumors can stop. Make a decent stallion out of him.”
“Admirable. But it almost sounds like you really don't think you can keep it going. You seemed much more confident before, even when you were deferring and scraping along. You told me 'no' to my face and made it stick even without looking me in the eyes. Do you really see this not working?”
“I don't know... what do I know about royalty? I'm a donkey, daughter of laborers. I've got my nerve and that's about all. I'm flying like an out-of-control pegasus towards a fate I never anticipated. I didn't want this, but I got it anyhow, as he rather eloquently explained to me. I don't know if I can sustain this. There are so many rules, so many odd complications and expected responses. Not from him, he's about as basic a male as they get, to my relief. But the rest of the nobility are not. You know very well that as servants we see them at their most needlessly complex, mendacious and pitifully ridiculous. And I will have to trot that world.”
“I won't lie, yes, you will. It's not like me. I'm also a low-terrace laborer moving among the palace heights, married to a Destrier in the Guard and being, for all intents and purposes, her majesty Luna's Lady-in-Waiting. The difference is, I can still be disguised as nothing more than a maid. I tuck myself away in the corner and see all. You other workers know I'm nothing of the sort but the gossip-worthy folk can't tell the difference. But you...”
“Will be at a prince's side, and if he holds up his end of the bargain, it won't be because I'm his personal valet. Their eyes... their terrible eyes will be all over me.” Connie let her trembling pass with a soothing bite of fritter and a sip of the apple-flavored tea. “But he already assured me he will suffer with me. I think I find that most comforting. He waxed almost poetic about their judging eyes and poison smiles. As long as someone understands.”
“You have convinced me rather well that he's a bit sharper than I would have predicted. But you're deflecting. Cut those folks out of the picture. You and him. You don't have the fortitude to stick it out?”
“I've got all the legendary donkey stubbornness you could possibly ask for. I have that in great supply. But the thing is, once all this is said and done... I'm scared. I was scared when I thought he was a monster, I was scared when I wasn't sure what he was and now that I know I'm even more scared.”
“Scared of what? You got him crying his eyes out over you. I'm willing to bet that you really hurt him when you shoved him off of you. Sounds like you've got everything that most mares look for in a stallion. He's got you on the brain, he's squishy and emotional and he wants to take you for dinner and a show. You'd be passing any magazine quiz I could give you right now.”
“I've known how to deal with jerky little foals and insincere adults and even sincere but weak-willed adults. I can't handle someone who is sincere, and also willing to prove it. What do I know about a functional relationship? I'm scared because... I think this pretty-colt idiot actually loves me! What do I do?”
Lime casually sipped her tea, a rather fake neutral expression resting on her face. “You just got a perfect score on the relationship quiz. Ooh, terrifying.” A small laugh followed, along with the clearing of her throat. “I'm sorry. I'm not trying to belittle this but... you're afraid he actually loves you?”
“I could lie, I guess. Say that I'm still worried it's an elaborate practical joke at my expense, but given the players in this game his 'joke' would result in his skin being screamed off and a quick trip to the moon. I could even lie and say that I'm afraid I'm just his fetish, like a hoof, or a flank, or really big teats. He kind of fixed himself on my ears before he said I was the whole package. But I don't feel like insulting us both with that kind of cheap lie. I'm afraid that I've been burned so much that I really can't keep a relationship going, especially under the pressure of spotlights.”
“Is that why you wanted to make it public? If it went badly you could blame something and get out clean?”
Connie worked up an indignant look but it fell quickly and she gave a snort over her teacup. “You're not pulling your bucks today, I see.”
“Not for this. You don't look for escape hatches in a relationship. All that really tells me is you don't want to date him at all.”
“I didn't. I was very content in my workaday world until he came along. I was done with relationships. Except for the occasional Harlequine romance novel.” Connie noted Lime's stare and rolled her eyes. “It was for relaxation. And maybe I liked how they ended. But that's fantasy. This is real life. Unicorn princes don't just trot up, give me rare gifts and laurel crowns and then say they want to sweep me off my hooves into the whirlwind of the aristocracy.”
“Except...”
“One did. I know. I know...” Connie heaved a sigh and munched on her fritter. “I guess I can't just run away from this one with a quick thought of 'I guess he's just a jerk.' He's trying hard. But I'm finding it harder and harder to be the one moving this along. I was all up for it, because a little piece thought he would back away. I should have known. He was the one that wanted me to stop calling him 'sir.' Then he wanted me to stop calling him 'Prince.'”
“I sort of accidentally on purpose caught part of your conversation. You seemed very sure of things. It reminded me of one of her majesty's plays, in a way. But you sounded like you were ready for this.”
“Of course. It's easy when it's all just a plan and your heart was just thumping with uncertainty and fear not that long ago... when you can actually consider it and start to dig into all those uncertainties...”
“Hey now...” Lime rose from the table and came around to pat Connie on the back. “It's okay. It's dinner and a play. If it doesn't work, you at least got me and her majesty thinking Blueblood is competent. That's a big step. Meanwhile, need anything to get ready? Mane-do, hooficure, pony-pedi, overbody styling?”
“Not until he comes down and gives the word. Wow... he's going to come down and ask me out on a date. What's the right response if I actually look forward to it?”
“Dark Skies seemed pretty happy when I accepted then gave him a nudge. Of course, we were younger, he was a gawky teen and he thought I was the prettiest mare ever. Given the slow pace of Blueblood's increasing maturity, that's about the level you're at. Just a quick nudge at his shoulder after you say yes. Stretch it out a bit, though. Give him a minute to sweat. Why not savor the moment?”
“I'm not very experienced with this kind of thing but I think you might be a bad influence.” Connie laughed softly and finished the last of her fritter and tea.

“So I told her I wanted to meet her in the spa again, but she sort of shot me down. She just wanted to burrow around in the mud baths for a while, rinse off and head back to her cell. I guess Diamond Dogs just have to get back to their roots now and then.” Fireclay leaned casually against a wall in the kitchen, chattering animatedly while Connie swept nearby.
“How did we even start this conversation? And what are you doing here? I'm pretty sure this isn't part of your assignment but it sure is part of mine. And I need to get to it.” It had been several days, of second-guessing, thwarted anticipation and a slow contemplation of Lime's advice. She was in a brittle mood.
“We started this conversation because you're my friend and I finished earlier. I've got nothing but free time and it was either come down here and chat you up a bit or retire to my cell and have some fun with my rubber, plastic and romance novels.”
“Ahh, that's right, I'm Plan B because Rose Topaz didn't go for it. I'd be flattered if I wasn't on edge and pretty brittle right now.”
“Oh? What's got you so fragile today? I figured life was sweet now that Blueblood was off of you. If you know what I mean.”
“Yes. You have all the subtlety of a buck to the face. I'm not exactly sure if he or I should be more insulted but right now I'm going for me.” Connie rolled her eyes and whipped the broom faster, creating a little swirl of dust.
“Come on! I'm sorry. You've never been this uptight before, least of all over making a quick Blueblood joke. Something's really got a hold of you.”
“Look...” Connie sighed and leaned on her broom. “It's nothing personal. I just... I need some time, alright? I'm on edge and it's going to stay that way for a while, u-”
“Ah, yes. Ahem. I do hope I am not interrupting important business. I have been warned about interrupting the work of palace servants.” Blueblood strode into the kitchen, putting on his much-remembered air of haughty self-importance, letting his accent be especially heavy. “I am here on a very important assignment.”
“Need me to call Lime?” Fireclay leaned in and whispered to Connie.
“No. I didn't need it the first time.” Connie strode forward, adopting her former sycophantic look and posture. “Sir? You are here on an important assignment, sir? Have you come to assess the quality of the cleaning, sir? I have been using a new suite of techniques, sir, which I learned by trial and error. Have they been found wanting, sir?” Only she and Blueblood could see the cheeky smile that she gave while he head was down.
A small chuckle rumbled in Blueblood's chest, the big unicorn allowing a small smile pass over his face. “No, no. I have heard many compliments on this new style. It must be very effective.” He cleared his throat and went back to his former imperious look. “I am here, specifically, because I have come to see you.”
“Me, sir? Then I suppose, sir, you know...”
“Next Tuesday, reservations at Ume to Ringo, six in the evening. A performance to follow at Urbi et Orbi, in great-auntie Celestia's royal box. Information on the specifics to follow, though great-auntie Luna assures me the performance will be enjoyable.”
“Next Tuesday, sir? Neighponese food and a box at the big theater to follow, sir?”
“At six, yes. Is this... acceptable?” Blueblood looked rather hopeful, and not a little worried.
Lime had told her to stretch it out. Make it last. Make him sweat because he wanted her so badly. He was there, like a gangly teen with cheap diner flowers and his dad's cologne, begging her to validate his daring. She remained there, head down, looking submissive and properly awed by the royal presence. She finally sidled up close, looked to the side with a blush and said, “Well then... I accept, Prince Blueblood.” She then gave him a nudge on the shoulder, sufficient to send him tumbling to the ground.
Blueblood sprang up with a cough, sweeping the front of his attire and smiling, his mouth almost popping into one that was exaggerated. He managed to turn before then and trotted off, calling back, “Then, we will meet again.”
Connie fairly hummed with nervous energy, shedding her fear and uncertainty with every shake and twitch. He really did it. The big, pretty-colt lug did it. Ume to Ringo was a hot spot, very much in vogue. Plenty of cruel, cold, hard, unforgiving eyes... and the theater! Celestia's box! Everyone would see her there. Everyone... “Hey!” Fireclay.
“Oh! Uh... guess I can't be your Plan B. I've got a date. Maybe try Ro-”
“No! You tell me what happened right now! Right now! I mean it!”
“F-fireclay, calm down!”
“No way! You will explain this... this... what is this?!”
Connie shuffled her hooves and thought about what she could possibly say. “He... was putting things on my ears because he had this stupidly powerful crush on me and he's basically a giant foal that thinks you get girls by putting bugs in their manes. We had it out, he got some nerve and now we're trying a date.”
Fireclay looked on her fellow maid, stunned. Her mouth took a moment to get back in working order but eventually she blurted out a, “Were you going to tell me?”
“What? Well, yea, afterwards I think everyone in the place would know...”
“No, me! Tell me! I thought we were friends, Connie! We chattered in the spa and joked about all the stupid guests that have come around. You laughed at me over what I feel for Rose Topaz and you... you couldn't even tell me that you and Blueblood... how could you?”
Connie winced. It was all true. “Look... I wasn't even sure what I thought of this. I was all up for it but it was also scary. You know I've had zero luck with dating. And now here's some stallion we all made fun of that thinks I'm the best thing since Chancellor Puddinghead invented pudding pie. What do I know about that? I just... you saw me. Waiting to see, waiting to know...”
“You should have told me.”
“I should have. It was dumb. It was ridiculously stupid of me not to trust you to, at least, keep the secret. I know you love good gossip but you know when to keep quiet.”
Fireclay came over to Connie and gave her a hug. “I'll hold off on the guilt for now. A bunch of bad dates means you're terrible at good ones. I'll give you some advice and set you up with my mane stallion. He's a Colt Cuddler, so you know he's good.”
“Well...”
“Oh no. More? Seriously, Connie?”
“Wait, gossip! I have a 'getting ready' connection already so I don't need any help with that but I have some gossip to share.”
Fireclay tried to remain indignant but she came up and lifted one ear. “Tell, tell!”
Connie looked around conspiratorially then whispered, “He's a really, really, really bad kisser.”
> The Date
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“How much will you be showing, and how much will you change?” The Palace spa had a very fully-stocked and highly-spoken-of salon. Though the princesses took care of their own cosmetic needs they occasionally enjoyed being tended to, and always wanted their workers to have the best possible. Connie was laying down on a padded couch while a delicate, fey unicorn stallion with a pink coat and bright green mane strode around her.
“I don't want to change too much. This is all I have.” Connie indicated her face, and looked back at her bare body. Light gray, with somewhat-coarse hair, more so than an average pony. Her shining black mane was put up in its usual fluffy ringlets. “He wants... me. And I plan to wear my maid attire.”
“Oh honey, I know it. My stallion just loves it when I look like me, but it never hurts to add a little style, right? I'll do what I can. I know exactly what you're going for. Lime Sherbert does the exact same thing. I've gotten quite good at making a maid outfit look good.”
“Thanks. I've done some dating before and a lot of home styling stuff. I doubt they made the dates fail but... I'd like for this one to go right.”
“You just leave it to me. I've been doing this for a while. Blueblood will not be able to keep his hooves off of you, which will be a change from the usual. Now the real question, would you like me to minimize your ears, or glorify them?”
Connie was stricken into silence. She tried to ignore them. Then she tried to figure out what they meant. Now... she self-consciously stroked them, remembering the feel of Blueblood's delicate touch caressing them, his hoof gentle and adoring. “Make them glorious. I want... griffin feathers, carved wooden baubles, silk and laurels.”
“Honey, he will fall down to his knees and kiss your hooves your ears will be so beautiful.” The unicorn sifted through his tools and accessories, humming softly. “I may need to get some supplies...”
“Can you wait? I have everything you'll need.”
“This is for you, and you got Blueblood to act like a decent stallion. For you, honey, I'd wait for hours.” The stallion winked, then checked the clock, “But you haven't got hours. Be quick, you wanna be on time. Reservations are unforgiving.”
“I'll be quick!” Connie leaped off of the table and dashed out of the private salon room.

“This is a... strange situation, to say the least.” Blueblood looked in the mirror, watching as his golden mane was slowly brushed and occasionally spritzed with some kind of conditioning and holding spray. “Certainly, I have long been tended to by servants but they were under my orders doing as I told them to my style.”
“I don't want to change you too much, after all, Connie fell for you somehow. But when it comes to you a change couldn't possibly be all bad.” Lime Sherbert laughed pleasantly, using her magic to manipulate the tools she was bringing to bear against Blueblood. “Of course, there's not too much to do. For once your previous vanity has served you well.”
“I take that as a compliment. It was very nice of great-auntie Luna to let you do this.” Blueblood gave a small smile and a deep chuckle.
“Are you kidding? She insisted I do this. For some strange, obscure reason she didn't quite trust you to manage on your own.” Lime laughed in return and gave Blueblood a slicked-back manestyle. “How do you like this? Her majesty is quite a fan.”
Blueblood turned his head side to side, watching his golden hair shine in smooth rows. “It does have some measure of charm. Something about it looks both like a scoundrel yet also recalls a debonair bearing. I am certain some ponies could pull this off but I know where my talents lie. Perhaps it should be back to the usual, yes?”
“This time, I think you may be correct. Wow... I was just telling Connie I'm saying a lot of things I never said I would say lately.” Lime readjusted the mane back into the semi-flat, flipped-across-the-neck look it had been. But as a last touch she took the front and gave it a twist, leaving a slight curl of golden hair around the base of Blueblood's horn. “There. I think that adds a little something.”
Blueblood contemplated the curl of hair, giving his usual pretty-colt smile and a pop of his brows. “Yes, that is the charming and perfect look I wanted.”
“Dark says the same thing when I do styling for him. We get invited to a surprising number of formal engagements. And it is hard work fixing a guard's mane to look presentable. I usually give him a Zebra style and he's a hit. But you don't have the bearing for that.”
“No, not at all. I leave that to the zebras themselves. They have the unique capability to wear the styles which they do.” Blueblood ran a hoof slowly along the curl of hair around his horn. “Are we ready to face all those eyes?”
“You'd better be. No matter how nervous she might be she's holding you to this. Back out and she'll probably strangle you to death with her ears. I am only kind of kidding.”
Blueblood let out a laugh that was too loud, the draining of his nervous energy. “You are correct. She has her preferences. As do I. They may be different but we understand one another well. I never thought I would find anypony I could understand who would understand me.”
“You didn't. You found somedonkey that understands you. I think that's why. She's not just another face in the crowd. She's totally unique. Her ears made her prickly and you poked at her. She gave you what you deserved all with the right moves, using her servant's posture when needed then her real fire when you let her.”
“She even told me I was a bad kisser.” Blueblood touched his lips and smiled. “That's the honesty I need.”
“Bad kissing is at least fixable. I'd imagine you'll get plenty of practice tonight.” Lime popped her brows in the mirror and grinned.
“Not likely. Not because we'll be in the spotlight, but because I have the feeling great-auntie Luna will quiz me on the play when I get back. If I don't answer correctly she will know what I was doing. I am not certain, however, if that is what she wants or not.”
“Her majesty is inscrutable. She is the night, misty, dark and obscured. Sub rosa, occult, as she is fond of saying. You can't know what she wants unless you are meant to. So just guess. You'll probably be right. She probably wants you to do both somehow.”
“It would hardly surprise me. Well... I suppose that is all I may do. I will meet the carriage at the front.” Blueblood rose to his hooves and heaved a sigh. “I have been with females. In all my paranoia to avoid progeny and all my desperation to appear grand... none have ever made me as afraid as Connie does.”
“Her opinion matters. She can make you feel weak and helpless,” Lime noted, setting down the spray and brush, walking out of Blueblood's room and into the living room. “Say hello to my uncles. And don't mind the snickers. They find this as amusing as I do, and they work for Celestia. They can be cheeky.”
“Do not worry. I am quite used to folk talking behind my back. I can bear it.”

“You know, I never thought I would say this, but suddenly white stallions don't do much for me.” Golden Stare spoke with great mirth, hiding a snicker behind a hoof. Rosy stood straight and tall beside him, trying to remain unfazed.
“H-honey, is that wise? We should not speak to the prince in such a fashion. He might splutter at us and storm off in a huff.” Rosy Cranberry suddenly showed his trembling to be from holding in a laugh rather than from fear.
Blueblood was used to folk speaking behind his back. But with the status afforded to the two guards at the front gate they were not very restrained. But their comments were not withering or painful, because he could just feel they were in actual jest. “A good joke, Miles,” Blueblood said, affecting his haughty tone, “But all it will do is make me disinclined to offer you the might of my own perfect form. Wither in envy as I remove this rippling, muscular perfection from your potential pleasure.”
Rosy's face practically turned red as his famous blush sprang up with furious heat and force, his husband letting loose a tremendous and echoing laugh that suited his beefy frame. “Oh yes! Oh honey he got you good! That was pitch perfect!” After recovering himself he threw a salute to the unicorn. “Good show, Prince.”
“It is in my nature to be quick-witted, Cavalier. And fear not, I only have an eye towards mares. However your husband may lust I will never give in.” Blueblood laughed softly and gave the two a sincere smile.
“H-hey!” Rosy buried his face in Golden's thick neck and rubbed softly. “I'm all for him, and only him.”
“I know the feeling. If she will have me I will try to be that stallion for Connie...” Blueblood began to pace, his mirth being replaced with nervousness. “It seems impossible, doesn't it? Is it wrong to say that without having gone on a date?”
“Given the rumors of how long you toyed with one another it would seem strange if you didn't say that,” Rosy noted, still with his face against Golden's neck.
“My husband is quite right. Despite all rumors and ridiculous conspiracies you must be a pony like any other, and surely influenced most by love.”
Blueblood nodded his head and checked the watch he had donned just for the occasion. Silver band with a gold face. “The hour approaches. Early evening reservations, with a private booth. And great-auntie Celestia's private box at Urbi et Orbi. I have heard the play tonight does not have a listed start time. It will begin at the moment we take our seats and indicate it should begin. Though often the basis for jokes, I can say I have never had that much power before.”
In the space of the silence that followed Lime Sherbert came out the door and whispered into her uncle Golden's ear. He nodded slowly at her words and cleared his throat. “Stand, Pila Rectus!” He clopped his hoof sharply, both guards suddenly shooting up tall and straight. “Wings out!” Both extended one wing, crossing them in front of the entrance. After a moment of stiff formality Golden announced, “Presenting scullery maid Connie!” The two guards let their wings drop to reveal Connie.
She was still her usual light gray, and still clad in her cloth shoes and black-and-white maid attire. But her mane had been dropped, hanging down in tight rings that framed her face. Makeup had been subtly applied, shadow over her eyes, black liner and mascara enhancing their size and brightness. The most astounding thing, however, was her ears. The spring portion of the clothespins had been removed, and they had been made into dangling pendants, the four pieces clipped, by twos, near the middle of each ear, one inside, one outside. Bright silk ribbons were attached to the bases, sliding down the back of her head in a rainbow cascade. Wrapped around each ear were fragrant strands of laurel, while at the tips were securely attached a few bald eagle griffin feathers, identifiable to those in the know. She was looking down, not quite shy, but more uncertain. “Well then... here I am...”
Blueblood was stunned, jaw hanging open, eyes wide. His focus was not on the ears necessarily, but drifted over the whole glorious form. When he finally regained control of his faculties, he managed to stammer out, “I... I... I can't... oh my...”
“I think that means he likes the look,” Lime said with a laugh, helping Connie stroll out to the carriage that was sitting in the courtyard before the palace. Attached to it was another Celestian guard, his slightly-more-ornate barding identifying him as a Destrier. “Thanks for volunteering to pull them, honey.”
Destrier Dark Skies smiled and nodded to his wife, standing up tall and proud. “It's my pleasure, honey. It's my honor, really! Celestia herself asked me to do this. I used to envy those fellows that brought Twilight to Ponyville and the two that escorted her majesty and her pet. To serve with this kind of distinction... let me just say I feel very like, 'I'm going to give it to you' tonight.”
“Dark!” Lime screeched, smacking her husband on the armored flanks with a dusting cloth pulled from her attire, “My uncles are standing right over there, not to mention Connie and Prince Blueblood! Seriously?”
“So... is that a no?” The destrier asked.
“Well, of course not. It's going to happen. But have some tact.” Lime sniffed and tucked her cloth away again. “Now you know the route, right?”
“Straight to Ume to Ringo, wait for them to come out, on to Urbi et Orbi, then straight back after they come out. No motels, no hotels, no dark alleys. Unless they really, really ask. That was, uh, Princess Luna that said that. Her majesty got a most... interesting look when she said that.” Dark grinned nervously and chuckled a bit.
“Her majesty can be... a bawd when she tries. But she means well. Anyhow,” Lime kissed her husband on the cheek then opened the door of the closed carriage with her magic, “Time to go.”
Blueblood cleared his throat and stepped around behind Connie, looking tall and gallant. “After you. Though a princely honor is to head any procession, the gentlecoltly thing to do is to allow you to enter first.”
Connie walked along to the carriage, silent and blushing, looking around as though seeking laughing friends ready to show it was all a joke. “Th-thank you. You have shown yourself to be quite the gentlecolt, prince.”
“Perhaps after this night, you will call me by my name,” Blueblood said as he clambered into the carriage, settling down across from Connie. “Destrier Dark Skies, you may proceed.”
“Very good, Prince Blueblood.” Dark Skies saluted and trotted off out of the palace gates.

The trip to the restaurant was fairly uneventful, Connie and Blueblood both wrapped in a nervous silence. The route was very direct, artery streets being taken down from the palace through to the third terrace restaurant district. The restaurant itself was not very flashy, being a low, square building with a pagoda-style roof and some Neighponese touches in the decorative aesthetics. There was a neon sign above the door, announcing the name Ume to Ringo along with neon tube versions of an ume and an apple.
Dark Skies had noticed a few ponies and one carriage following as they left the palace, always at a respectable distance, though with some interest in the occupants of his own carriage, given the angling of necks of those passed. He detached himself from the carriage and rushed over to the door. “Be ready, we had some followers. I think we all know what this means.”
Blueblood answered from within. “I was aware it might happen. Connie... would you like to go straight to the theater?”
Connie hesitated before answering. “No. As scared as I am I asked for this. Notice. You can't shake me off, prince. I won't go so easily or be quiet.”
“I never expected you to,” Blueblood said with a hit of nervous mirth. “Destrier, you may open the door. Connie, as is still the gentlecoltly thing, you may go first.”
“It's an honor... and a terror...” Connie said, with a breathy laugh at the end.
Dark Skies opened the door of the carriage with a smooth motion, setting off a sudden blinding wave of flashing lights and popping bulbs. The followers revealed themselves to be a small collection of paparazzi lured out by a rumor of a palace-made reservation. Most stayed away, thinking it was only Celestia or Luna again, whose presences were both not very newsworthy and could lead to an annoyed reproach from one of the Princesses. While it was not so bad with Celestia, with Luna it often meant scattering folks and cutting words that made for lots of blocked-out quotes, even as ancient as they were.
Those who dared to be there were rewarded with a gray leg, ending in a black cloth shoe. The somewhat knobby knee raised all kinds of newsworthiness alarms. Not just a palace maid, a donkey. More and more detail emerged with her head. A crazed collection of bits and pieces all over her hilariously-long ears. Several of the photogs were already taking notes for the cruel headline. The full emergence was marked by chatters and further snaps of the cameras.
When Blueblood emerged from the carriage there was almost a moment of silence, save for disbelieving gasps. Then the sudden evening-destroying wall of flashing lights, clicks coming so fast it sounded like an army of typewriters. Photographers were calling editors or reporting their freelance prices had just jumped. Practically every move was documented by the flashing cameras, enough footage likely shot to put together into a flip book movie. There was another gap in flashes when Blueblood pressed in against Connie's side, then led her on toward the restaurant.
Additional following and shooting was halted by Dark Skies suddenly spreading his wings and standing sternly before the door to the restaurant after Connie and Blueblood had entered. “Stop! Destrier Dark Skies, Celestian Corps, here for locomotion and security. Step back, please. The restaurant has a standing order of no photography during Palace-ordered events.” He was unmoved by the groans, snorts and attempts at bribery. He kept his wings spread and set firmly before the doors, forward enough to allow folks to exit but close enough to stop tricky sneakers from rushing in.
Inside the doors the restaurant was a sort of fusion of Central Equestrian and Neighponese. Bamboo supports and decorative touches made for a most delicious environment. Adding to the lovely environment were preserved branches of apple blossoms and ume blossoms, to go along with the name of the place. They were very heavily represented, hanging from the ceiling while lights shined through them, leaving long, romantic shadows over the booths. At the front of the restaurant a waiter immediately recognized Blueblood and took up two small menus. “Prince! The reservation did not say it would be you! And you have a very... lovely... lady with you this evening. How rare. Come, the table has been reserved.”
Connie and Blueblood were led through the restaurant, the target of disbelieving stares and many whispers. Connie shrank down a little, pulling in closer to Blueblood. But rather than the expected seat at a booth they were led through the double doors and back into the kitchen. The look there was far more standard, all gleaming, sterilized metal and tile, with rubber mats for the chefs as they moved between stations and performed their duties. They were led to a white-cloth-topped square table with two cushions set on opposite sides.
After Connie and Blueblood had both been settled down at the table, with some curious looks from Connie, the waiter set down the black menus. “The chef's table, as reserved for the palace. I will allow you a moment to peruse and decide.” With that the stallion bowed his head and moved off.
“So... is this when the joke starts?” Connie asked, sullenly, looking around at the less-than-stellar surroundings. “Or is this a way to weasel out of being seen eating with me?”
“I know this will be surprising but this is a great honor.” Blueblood looked around with a nod, focusing especially on the chefs. “The kitchen in which you work is unlike a restaurant's kitchen, especially one for haute cuisine. The chef's table is reserved for very, very special guests, who are privy to the actual process, which is often undertaken as an art form. Sometimes the head chef himself will come to dine or converse, an honor that none of the others in the dining room can claim.”
Connie had never felt less classy than she did at that very moment. She opened up the menu and scanned over the various offerings. “Do I need to leave now or can I wallow in my own ignorant classlessness for a while?”
“You did not know. There is no shame in that. I will admit, had I not known, I would have been insulted as well that it was not an elevated table in the spotlights.” Blueblood laughed at his own exaggeration of his former ego, getting Connie to smile. “Every pony in that dining room now envies you. They are probably out there right now wishing they were you, and not just because you are out with an absolute hunk of a stallion.”
It was then Connie's turn to laugh, slowly shaking her head. “You... okay, now I can sort of see how you can believe your ego is charming.” She looked down at the menu again in confusion. “I've had quick Neighponese dishes before and some of these seem passingly familiar. But... there are no prices. How will I know how much to tip?”
“There is an old saying among the nobility. 'If you have to ask, you can't afford it.' I never asked because everything was taken care of for me. But in this instance, do not fear. While high, the prices are not unreasonable, and we are covered by Palace credit. Gratuity included. But I still brought a few bits to get used to the practice,” Blueblood said with a chuckle.
“Well, somepony is learning to be a normal fellow. I guess you really are trainable. Maybe we can do a little something about that kissing problem...” Connie mused.
Blueblood popped his brows and pursed his lips at Connie. “Promise?”

The meal was a casual affair with warm soy sauce for dipping, ume juice drunk out of small clay bottles, and a fine selection of premium fruits and vegetables on hoof-packed vinegared rice wrapped in nori. It was like the quick take-away dishes Connie had eaten before, but upped in quality, and then some. They had even been visited by the chef, a portly and gregarious Neighoponese unicorn.
Blueblood dropped a collection of bits on the table, of modest denomination. “This seems appropriate... right?” He asked, looking to Connie for guidance.
Connie pushed the coins around, checking numbers and values. “Not knowing the prices... this seems fine for a tip at a place like this. But that means... we're going out there again..”
“I could have the Destrier lead us out the back door. It would take but a moment to pass the message,” Blueblood said.
“You could. But I put myself in the middle of this. I regret everything but I can't go back. I can't let you be the bigger partner in this crazy situation,” Connie said with a laugh, and a self-conscious fan of her face, slowly rising from her seat.
Blueblood waited for Connie to get up before he got up himself and stepped over to press against Connie's side. Both strode casually out of the kitchen, still taking stares and whispers from the patrons within. Connie could see that the looks were not derision but jealousy. The stallions seemed to envy the honor, while the mares envied so much more. It made Connie press herself up against Blueblood all the tighter and whisper, “Will we even make it to carriage or through the street to the theater?”
“They know better than to stop us. Great-auntie Luna would have their eardrums,” Blueblood whispered back, taking a moment to compose himself before he pushed open the front doors and softly called, “Destrier, we must get to the carriage.”
“That will be difficult but on my honor you'll make it...” Dark Skies replied, looking out over the path to the carriage. The call had gone out to every stringer, freelancer and salaried photog, along with the beat reporters and wanna-bes. They had turned a small knot of curious onlookers into a sea of flashing lights and chattering voices. And eyes. Hard, scrutinizing eyes. Along with the swarm of paparazzi came a collection of constables to keep the peace. While they were mostly the night shift in their white uniforms and steel buttons a few of the day shift had volunteered.
One of those day shift ponies approached Dark Skies. She was a unicorn mare, pink with a purple mane, in her blue uniform with the polished brass buttons and metal sun badge. She saluted the Destrier. “Upper-tier patrolmare Rose Iris. Here to help manage this sudden...” Rose looked behind Dark Skies to Blueblood and Connie. “Getting in trouble again, Prince?”
“I recall you... you helped that other constable during that little incident. In an odd way, I should thank you for sending me back into the palace,” Blueblood said with a bow of his head.
“I am uncertain how that works but that is no matter. The other constables are holding back the crowd and have been informed of your destination. They will provide the road clearance to the theater. But there isn't much to be done about them beyond keeping them back,” Rose stated. “Let's move, right now.”
“Follow behind, you two, and mind the paparazzi,” Dark Skies Said, his spread wings angling back to give him a sleeker, more streamlined look, to let him more smoothly cut through the crowd to the carriage.
The crushing crowd was flashing lights and scribbling notes, all their dozens of eyes focused hard on Connie and Blueblood, but mostly on Connie. There were audible things in the crowd that made Connie's decorated ears droop, such as 'rabbit-eared,' 'lowly maid,' and 'just some jenny.' “I was wrong,” Connie whispered, closing her eyes and letting Blueblood lead her. “The eyes are terrible... but their words are worse...”
“I stopped listening a long time ago. I think I should start again...” Blueblood replied, though by the time he could listen he was already letting Connie enter the carriage.
Once both were safely ensconced in the closed vehicle Dark Skies went back up to the front and hitched himself to it. After a confirming nod from several of the surrounding constables he flared his wings out and called, “In the name of the Princesses, official business of the royal family! Clear the road and allow passage in accordance with the statutes.” The crowd of photographers and reporters opened wide, giving greater passage than was necessary for the sake of following the law. The way open, Dark Skies and the constables set off.

An odd parade flowed up the streets of Canterlot, the carriage of Connie and Blueblood leading the procession of constables, reporters and photographers, the sea of flashes making ordinary citizens take notice and follow along. They moved from the third terrace up to the second, onto the border of the second and first to the grand, gargantuan Royal Canterlot Theater. The whole thing was a well-constructed hemisphere made of polished marble like much of the rest of the upper-reaches of Canterlot. The base of the hemisphere was decorated with the posters of current and future performances, as well as posters of the notable actors within.
There was already a space cleared in front of the theater for the carriage, ushers and additional constables waiting for them. Dark Skies detached himself from the carriage and let the two out once again. “Parasites. They can't even let two nice folks have a date. If they're so interested in maids why aren't they bothering Lime and me?”
“Because they are greedy, grasping and shallow,” Blueblood noted, suddenly aware that Dark Skies and Connie were staring at him with a certain amount of disbelief. “Who better to know? Is that what you think I should say?”
Connie gave a high, braying laugh and gave Blueblood a nudge. “Go, go. Let's not give them too much of a chance to say anything.”
Blueblood and Connie followed behind the ushers, Dark Skies following behind them with his wings spread and pushed forward protectively. Blueblood really listened to the chatter he could hear in the paparazzi surrounding them. He heard the usual things, disparaging remarks about himself. But more infuriating were words like 'desperate,' 'forced,' and 'straying.' More terrible still, he heard a mocking bray somewhere, and couldn't see any genuine donkeys to make it. “You should learn to cultivate your own aloof detachment, to simply not hear any of this...”
“I heard,” Connie said, dejectedly, “That you forced me to be here, that you're so desperate to date you'll take a lowly donkey, and yes... I heard somepony bray. That was no jack, I know that from experience.” Blueblood used a tendril of magic to pull Connie closer against him as they were let into the theater proper.
The lobby of the great edifice was awash in light, provided by the numerous, large diamond-hung chandeliers. Each one was hanging from a vaulted space, which had been decorated with sky scenes. There were five spaces in the semicircular lobby, from left to right depicting dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset and midnight. The floor was carpeted in red plush, while the walls were the same white marble as the exterior, with decorative columns around the outside and supporting the mezzanine. A single large staircase led up to that mezzanine, with doors to the mid-level seating. Two staircases curved from the mezzanine to upper boxes. On the ground floor two large staircases curved up to a different part of the upper level, to the royal boxes.
The staircases to the royal boxes were kept closed by velvet ropes and protected by ushers. On arrival Blueblood and Connie were eagerly conveyed up the right staircase, which led to Celestia's private box. “As I understand it,” Blueblood said to Connie, during their transit, “Great-auntie Luna's space is draped in dark cloth, and largely enclosed, such that is is nearly impossible to see her. She seems to require a great deal of privacy. Great-auntie Celestia's space is brighter, more open, and loaded with amenities like a buffet for intermission and a professional-grade coffee machine that also makes cappuccino and espresso. We will be seen, we will enjoy it, and we will have refreshments.”
“No liquor? You just catapulted yourself into the top three dates,” Connie grinned and leaned a head against Blueblood's neck. “If you stay polite you might make number one.”
“It is an honor I dearly wish to attain,” Blueblood said, quietly, his smile growing larger and brighter.
At the top of the stairs the ushers unlocked the double-doors, which were carved with the image of a giant sun and covered in beaten gold. Through the doors was a space very like the sky box at a sporting event. It was practically a salon, carpeted in white plush, painted in soft pastel blue, with a tasteful chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. At the back wall near the door the buffet area was already set, salad chilling in proper containers, hot roasted dishes kept warm in magically-heated chafing dishes, the coffee machine already set to produce whatever beverage would be required. There was a curved balcony-like bulged area at the front pointed towards the grand stage. Celestia's personal throne, a high, white seat, was there, looking more than large enough to hold her and then part of another regular pony. Set on front of that was a low, flat cloth couch that would require any pair of folk using it to snuggle together.
Connie looked over the edge of the balcony, rich and fancy ponies looking back up at her, whispers passing between some of them. She looked over at the available seating and chuckled. “I think I see that even her majesty Celestia has a certain idea about how we should watch the play.”
“She seems far less inscrutable than great-auntie Luna. And speaking of her...” Blueblood looked on the couch and found a pair of bound scripts. He lifted one with his magic and flipped through it. “'The Taming of the Brute' and 'The Stallion's Prize.' These are scripts for the plays to be performed. And they are all marked with notes about what all the lines mean, with notes for deeper understanding. She wishes for us to understand what is being said... or for us to know what we might miss while otherwise... occupied.” He popped his brows and pursed his lips.
“You never turn it off, do you?” Connie laughed and settled down on the couch with one of the scripts. “I want to watch some of it. How many times will I have this chance?”
“Hopefully many,” Blueblood said, settled down with Connie, snuggling up good and close. “I can take you any time you wish...”
“Show down, lovercolt...” Connie said, pushing away a short distance. “Date's not over yet.”
“Indeed not. Let us proceed...” Blueblood raised a hoof and let his magic flash, indicating that he wished for the performance to start. At the cue the curtain rose and the small orchestra began the incidental music.

The performance was quite a marathon, as two plays were performed one after the other, rather than the usual three-bill spaced out over the day. The plays were related, so it all flowed together, despite being from two different playwrights. By the end of the performance of the second play Connie and Blueblood were lightly dozing against one another, and were jolted awake by the stomping applause of the audience.
“Oh! Oh! Yes! Quite! Encore! Brilliant!” Blueblood was on automatic, blurting out all the things that were appropriate for a noble pony to say of a play.
“Fireclay, your climax is too loud again!” Connie blinked her eyes and blushed deeply, clamping her hooves over her mouth. She was so glad that her outburst had been mostly drowned out.
“Oh my...” Mostly. Blueblood gave Connie a faux-perverted grin and winked. “Should I be jealous?”
“She is a fellow maid and happens to have the cell beside mine. And when she tends her own needs she seems to happen to kick my wall often...” Connie related, blushing up a storm.
“I not sure if that's better or worse,” Blueblood mused and then laughed. “Dinner and two shows. Was it enjoyable?”
“You surprised me. You saw past my ears, saw past my status, saw past my attitude, when I had one... you're nothing like what anyone says. I think you're decent coltfriend material... Blueblood.”
Blueblood looked almost stricken, a huge, dopey grin spreading across his face. “Oh Connie...” He came in and pressed his lips against hers, being rewarding with the soft, reciprocal press of her own lips. Their forelegs wrapped around their upper bodies while, pulling them both tightly together. The lips parted as tongue flicked teasingly into each other's mouths. Connie was out of practice, Blueblood hadn't a clue. Together they muddled through the short make-out.
Connie spoke first, after both spent a bit of time panting. “Better. Better. I think I can work with this now. Shall we head back to the palace... Blueblood?”
“Say my name a thousand times and I will still ask you to say it again, Connie...” Blueblood nosed at Connie's ears as much as he could given all that was going on with their decoration. After a tiny kiss he led her along out of the box, with the accompaniment of the theater ushers, finding a milling crowd of nobles and rich ponies from the rest of the theater, seemingly waiting to see for themselves that Blueblood was really in the company of a donkey maid. He stood up all the taller and pressed even closer to Connie as they walked past the throng. He could only scowl within as he watched them all lie in silence, venomous smiles and judging looks aimed at them like arrows.
Outside of the lobby they were fronted by Dark Skies again, who motioned with his head to the carriage. The paparazzi had formed a kind of rough passage to the carriage. “Next stop, the palace and home free. Let's get going. I promised Lime... well, you know what I promised Lime.”
“Sadly, Blueblood does not have a similar promise but he has been a good gentlecolt anyhow,” Connie said with a grin, gently nudging against the big unicorn's side.
Blueblood half-heartedly laughed. He was listening to chatter between two of the photographers. “How much do you think he's paying her?'
“You'd think she'd have to pay him but where does some maid get bits, let alone a donkey?”
“You couldn't pay me enough to take out a knob-kneed, markless girl.”
Blueblood stopped cold. Bigotry. Rank bigotry. And not just aimed at an anonymous figure, which would have been terrible enough, but aimed at Connie. “This should not be in this city,” Blueblood muttered, turning to confront the photographers.
They were both unicorns, in professional-looking camera harnesses but lacking any press indicators. One was all red, mane and tail, the other was a pale blue with a white mane. The red one laughed. “And can you imagine the sex?”
“Making mules!” The other said, “And that stupid noise! Hee-HAW! Hee-HAW! Hee-Ha-!”
All of the paparazzi in Canterlot got a hundred different angles and thousand different shots of a raging Blueblood rearing up on his hind legs, magic surging from his horn to shove the red unicorn aside while he very directly punched the blue one square on the forehead, hitting horn and skull at the same time.
> The Measure of a Prince
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The next morning the headlines were all rendered in the largest font size possible for every different type of publication that flooded onto the newsstands. Tabloids, newspapers, legitimate magazines. No matter the subject all were carrying some variation of the very lurid moment Prince Blueblood's hoof impacted the blue unicorn paparazzo on the forehead. Accompanying the photos were any number of headlines, including, 'A Royal Disaster' 'Prince Spill-Blood' 'White Knight's Dark Night' and 'Dinner and a Brawl.'
The response had been swift, if somewhat confused. Prince Blueblood and Connie had been swept into the carriage by Destrier Dark Skies, who hitched himself up and took them away back to the palace. The constables on the scene were occupied by the near-riot of other photographers and reporters, as well as tending to the stricken stallion, who had been surrounded by flashing cameras and eager questions.
The legal questions began as soon as some semblance of order had been restored. Calls to the palace from the Canterlot constabulary were answered immediately and without prevarication. Blueblood had been taken into the custody of Destrier Dark Skies on return to the palace and been confined to his quarters. No airships or other conveyances were prepared for any escape, and neither Princess gave any indication that they were preparing to let Blueblood out.
The paparazzo in question, one Shady Shooter, was treated and released at Canterlot General Hospital. Though a unicorn, and thus generally less robust than a pegasus or earth pony, his attacker had similarly been a unicorn, and though big, not naturally very powerful. As well, the blow had been struck near the heavily-cornuted juncture of horn and skull, at the anchor point, the strongest spot in a unicorn's skeleton. He had a lump on his noggin but none of the signed, sworn statements from the reputable medics at the hospital indicated anything worse than that.
The following days were tense, the palace gates shut tight and the pegasus guards out in force to hold back eager, questioning reporters and desperate photogs hoping for a shot of Prince Blueblood out and about. Legal matters concerning nobility were often complex, though streamlined by tradition and judicial pronouncements to leave them not in any more privileged a position than a non-noble, though often with more options for dancing around the proceedings.
The story that emerged in the wake of the action, however, painted a very interesting legal picture. Most of the newspapers and media outlets had been gleefully repeating the 'bad behavior' of Prince Blueblood and puffing about confirming his less-than-sterling reputation. Then “The Canterlot Lunar Sphere”, a small paper that mostly reported on puff pieces, combined official reports from the Palace Press Corps with independent witness reports to tell the tale of a slur-spouting bigot impugning the honor of an innocent maid before a stallion noble enough to take up the cause.
However, before that story broke, there was a penalty to be paid in accordance with the outcry of the journalists.

A detachment of silver-armored dark gray unicorns led Prince Blueblood from his private chamber down into Princess Luna's suit-answering room. The night princess was looking particularly hard and stern, flanked as ever by Lime Sherbert who looked similarly stern.
Blueblood was looking indecisive. He tried to be firm and brave, yet there was a fear in his eyes and a certain tremble in his lips that told he was not as sure of his strength as he appeared. “Great-auntie, please, I know the reports are bad but I have made a statement...”
“Hold!” Luna shouted, in the Royal Canterlot Voice. She looked at the detachment of Lunar Guards. “Milites! Thou art dismissed. Shall we summon thee to return thy charge to his confinement on completion of his doom!” The collection of guards sharply saluted and trooped out of the room. As they left the door shut tight and a shimmering magical force covered it.
“I never meant to do it, it was all because of the two photographers,” Blueblood began, his strong look melting into fear and the start of tears.
“Silence!” Luna cried, her eyes flashing white for a moment. She then tilted her head and swiveled her ears a few time to check on something. That done she turned to Blueblood and unleashed the Royal Canterlot Voice again. “We are yelling because we are expected by others to yell! But the words may not be discerned! Thou hadst not brought cause for chastisement but thou wert required to face it all the same! Thou wert only defending the honor of a fair damsel and at last thou hast found will to act as a prince! Yet there still be cause for this venting of our spleen! Violence ne'er be answer when peace may spread her wings!”
Blueblood had been kneeling, preparing for a genuine stream of abuse and punishment. The mix of praise and subtle, familial disappointment and care made his head snap up, tears shining in his eyes. “Wh-what? You... I thought you were going to seriously punish me in preparation for a trial and a real sentence...”
Luna waved off the idea with a flick of her hoof, with a moderated pace and careful position to show it was a dismissal and not a fig. When she spoke it was without the high volume. “Thou hast good fortune. By Fortuna's turn, we are most placated and enraptured of late. Omnia bene, within and without the boudoir. But let that pass. Such is not for all to know. Our knowings art not the stuff of idle talk.”
Blueblood slumped down, tension draining away and leaving him trembling. “Connie... I have not been allowed to see her or ask about her. Is she well?”
“Fear not. Thy beauteous maid be well. She doth pine for thee and worry so after thee. She hath had dispensation from sister and our own self to work not but lament her chained and restricted dearest. Were it not so tragic we would think it a mere play. How appropriate in the circumstance under which it transpired. But let that pass. All this is tragedy yet triumph. As said previous...  blood art thou not, thou art princely titled, but thou art now of princely cast. We... I am most pleased in thy growth. From suckling colt to petulant stripling, and now to noble stallion. Not mere noblestallion, but truly a noble stallion. Yes... thine act wast ill, to assault a limner as thou didst, but for defense of thy jenny, and in chastisement of hate. Would that all nobles wert so faithful to ideals of the state. Sister and my self would have no cause to be patrons of salons for the noble in spirit,” Luna said, wistfully, starting to lose her focus.
“Majesty... perhaps you may be straying from the point...” Lime gently touched Luna on the leg.
“Ah! Yes. I thank thee, noble Lime. Thou art quite correct...” Luna looked down on Blueblood with a magnanimous smile. “The courts will expect contrition of thee. Give them thine artifice. There be no shame in such. As truth doth emerge opinion of the many shall be with thee. High shall they hail thee and ill shall they think of thine accuser. Surely shall it come to pass that they of the judiciary and of the population raise hue and cry that sister and myself shall commute thy doom. Until that time, shew thou a chapfallen and drear countenance, that none may be privy to thine hope for triumph.”
Blueblood looked down, stuck out his lower lip a good amount and trembled a little bit. “How is this, great-auntie?” He asked, his voice a pitiful whine.
“Nay!” Luna hit Blueblood with a lick of the Royal Canterlot Voice, her eyes flashing white. “Nephew! Be thou in earnest? Hast thou naught of the thespian art in thee? Thou hast all life imitated a terrible being and hast thou undertaken other seemings. Let not thy face betray thee. Be thou strong in thy security, yet gaze not up. Shew thee defiance, yet humility, and shew it strongly, for such is the manner of a prince.”
Blueblood brought his face back into a neutral cast, not frightened or imperious, but merely abiding. His eyes looked to the ground but his ears remained high. “Is this right, great-auntie?” His voice was low, but unwavering.
Luna bestowed him with a broad, bright smile. “Huzzah, nephew! Hast thou mastered the act of the defiant defeated. Clear thy thoughts of Connie, lest thy feeling burst forth. Know that she is well, that she hath loosed many words of praise to thy princely bearing, and that she doth await to give thee thine earnéd thanks. In what form this may come, I know not. It be not in my nature to wonder after such.”
Lime stifled a laugh with a soft snort, coughing into her hoof when Luna turned a glare on her. “Your majesty... aubergine... to say nothing of butternut and zucchini.”
Luna faced forward with a sudden light blush coloring her cheeks. “Verily, verily Lime. Thou speakest well. Forgive mine attempt at mocked modesty. It doth ill become me. I well know what form her joy for thy presence and nobility may take. Recall that the bonds of matrimony make best the joys of...” Luna noted Lime looking at her and cleared her throat. “Intention and the trueness of heart that may lead to matrimony, too, sweeten th' intemp'rate fires of lust and alloy them to a thing worthy and good. As thou hast made all effort and bended thy knees to Connie, and as she has cried thy name in grief and joy, there can be no other end but the highest of unions.”
“I always thought I would be like my parents, matched for politics and money. I am... glad they live far away and disconnected thanks to my assumption of the honorarium following attaining majority. They have not been choosing my prospective mates. They would never have chosen my perfect match. One look at her ears and knees and blank flank and she would be dismissed. What I would have lost in that case!” Blueblood broke his look for a moment then immediately went back to his downcast strength.
“Aye, the two are well placed far away and stuff'd with bits to see them ne'er darken this palace again. How fortuitous they may not object nor may they basely reject this fine jenny that doth match thee in those ways in which she doth not surpass thee.”
“And there are more of those than otherwise. But I thank her for wanting to marry down,” Blueblood said, unable to stop a smile from coming to his face.
Luna smiled in return, motioning to the door. “Prepare thy countenance and dread naught. Sister and mine own self shall make all maneuvers necessary that shall keep thee from harm and spirit thee back into thy beloved's grasp posthaste.”
Blueblood nod and dropped his smile. As soon as his face had regained the proper look the seal over the door was lifted and the doors opened. At that signal the small guard detachment marched back in, arranged themselves around Blueblood and marched out of the room with them.
Lime shook her head once the room was clear and turned to Luna. “What will you do, your majesty? Even knowing what transpired there must still be a trial. Assault is serious.”
Luna tutted softly and smiled. “Fret not, Dame Lime. Do I have a solution. Mine antiquity doth serve in greater measure than it doth hinder.”
Lime tilted her head curiously. “What do you mean, majesty? There's not much to be done, old or new, about him being tried. You can't just make it go away without an outcry.”
“It may be so, my maid. 'Twas not mine intention. The many shall ask he be released, for truth will spread her wings. 'Twas ever thus. In the meanwhile there still may be some thing that may be done to ensure all be fair,” Luna said, lighting her horn and bringing a scroll, quill and ink to her.

“Ancient law does seem to have most excellent solutions to troubles. I am glad you remembered,” Celestia said, sotto voce, aside to Luna. Both princesses were sitting at their thrones, dressed in elaborate robes with attached barding, swords strapped to their sides and shields hung on their backs. Both also wore tabards marked with their personal crests. For some reason, though Celestia had no food or drink, Luna had a partially eaten apple on the arm of her throne.
“Not all ancient things be useless in a new world. Truly do I love this world and all that walk within, but those things long held and so often forgotten still may serve when need is great. Let us then turn to the matter at hoof and have done,” Luna said, similarly quiet. She turned her attention to the front, where a courtroom had been set up, with tables for both sides, along with some space for a gallery, with guards keeping things orderly.
“Your majesties...” The green pegasus mare at the table holding Shady Shooter stood up and looked around. “This seems highly irregular. I do not mean to question your impartiality, of course, but you are the technical relatives of the accused, and extremely... politically powerful as well.”
Celestia grandly nodded her head and looked aside at Luna. “I defer to my sister, the author and architect of this creative solution.”
Luna accepted the nod and returned it, looking down on the lawyer. “Aye, 'tis irregular, as thou sayst, in this new era. But in relation to ages long past, 'tis not so strange. The statutes be unchanged in canon of law, that do allow that judge over nobles be of their station or above, lest the noble pony heed not doom of the august magistrate. As Blueblood be our nephew and he be prince by law and tradition, he hath rank o'er any justicar in all the nation, save we. Thus we be equal adjudicators of this matter and our judgment, once set, shall hold.”
The pegasus mare nodded her head and sat back behind the table. “Very well, I understand your majesties. Will I be required to wear a wig or something?”
“If a peruke dost thou require it shall be granted. We do wear the ancient raiment as to increase our gravity and judicial bearing. Address us as thou wouldst any justice and as thou might the jury. In us doth reside the trust and will of all the populace,” Luna noted with a slight smile.
“I also note with some confusion that the accused is not represented by anypony. Surely the Palace has many lawyers on retainer or at least within the habitation,” The prosecutor noted with a tilt of her head.
“I am competent to stand in my own defense,” Blueblood noted with a brushing of his tuxedo. “I have been though a legal education. While I may not act as judge, solicitor or barrister to any other, as I lack my certifications, I believe that I may stand in my own defense and perform admirably well. Do not worry, your time is not being wasted.”
“I would never imply such a thing, Prince Blueblood,” The lawyer rose again and came out around to the front of the table. “Your majesties, my name is Parlay Due Loophole, or just Parlay...”
Princess Luna interrupted Parlay with a soft snort and polite applause. “Bon blague, Madame Loophole. Un amusement de langue très joli.”
Parlay just stared at Luna for a moment, unable to think of what to say to that. She finally shook her head and continued from the point of interruption, “And I am here to argue the case of my client, one Shady Shooter. We demand not only restitution from the accused, and some measure of punishment but also that said accused be stripped of his noble title, as he has demonstrated that he cannot hold it with honor and dignity.”
“Normally I would object to such extreme measures. It is completely out of proportion with the accusation,” Blueblood said, with a fairly even tone. “I am no separatist-supporter, supremacist or Discordian traitor. The matter was a case of simple assault, with mitigation, I state to the court. However, if you believe depriving me of title is necessary, then let it be done. I am guaranteed a royally-insured lifetime stipend even if the honorarium is revoked and can live quite comfortably with that. The only party truly being hurt is, as at the theater, Connie, who will lose her happily ever after.”
“That's a lie, I never hurt that lo- that donkey!” Shady cried, rising up and pointing an accusatory hoof at Blueblood.
“Order!” Princess Celestia cried, her own version of the Royal Canterlot voice carrying an undeniable aura of command. “Miss Parlay, control your client!”
“A-as you command, your majesty,” Parlay said, with a quiver. She quickly dashed to her client's side and began to harshly whisper into his ear.
“I intend,” Blueblood continued, unperturbed, “To demonstrate that while the overall facts of the matter may be correct I was justified in my activities through mitigating circumstances and that any punishment to be imposed ought to be light.”
“Before I call anypony up to provide testimony I must reiterate to the court that in addition to confirmation from numerous eyewitnesses and photographic evidence the accused does not contest the accusation. His defense has been entirely affirmative. Which is why my client asked for a civil tribunal. If this matter can be dispatched quickly and efficiently we can take our damages and go.”
“Very good then, Miss Parlay. Call your first testimonial subject,” Princess Celestia said.
“I have only one. I call my client Shady Shooter,” Parlay said, leading Shady to a low bench placed between the two thrones. “Do you swear that the testimony you will give will be, to the best of your knowledge and ability, the true and accurate representation of the facts of the matter in question?”
“I do so swear,” Shady replied, sitting himself down on the bench.
“Please tell the tribunal, in your own words, of the events that transpired on the night in question, in particular those leading up to the incident at discussion,” Parlay said.
“Alright. On the night in question I got a call from my fellow independent photographer, Red Eye, that Prince Blueblood was out on a date, a never-before-captured event. I rushed with my equipment to find the crowd at Umi to Ringo. It was a mess. But we took a gamble on the next destination and went to the Royal Canterlot Theater. We got in at the front of the line near the passage the ushers were making for the two of them. We engaged in conversation until the carriage arrived and we got to snap pictures. We continued to converse about various subjects while waiting for the two of them to emerge from the theater. We took pictures as the two went up the aisle. Then Prince Blueblood shoved Red aside with his magic while hitting me in the head with his hoof,” Shady said, in a very even and rehearsed manner.
“That should be all. Prince Blueblood, would you care to ask anything of my client?” Parlay asked.
“But of course,” Blueblood said, rising sedately from behind his table and strolling to the bench. “Mister Shooter... what was the substance and subject of your conversation with Mister Red Eye?”
“The subject and substance were both personal and confidential,” Shady said, with a light snort.
“You are under oath, Mister Shooter,” Blueblood said, with a calm, smooth tone, “Now please relate the substance and subject of the conversation, as true and accurate representations of the facts of the matter.”
“Truly and accurately, the fact of the matter is that the conversation was a personal and private matter, Prince,” Shady snorted, adding extra contempt to the title.
“I have here the signed, sworn, verified and uncoerced testimony of your aforementioned partner, Red Eye, detailing the subject and certain particulars of the conversation,” Blueblood said, using his magic to levitate out a piece of paper.
“Objection!” Parlay called out, slamming a hoof down on the table. “I was never given a copy of this nor have I had a chance to speak with Mister Red Eye myself!”
“Overruled!” Celestia shouted. “This is a civil tribunal, not a criminal one, as you so carefully noted. Prince Blueblood was under no obligation to reveal his pieces of evidence. The tribunal accepts this for consideration.”
“Then I object on procedural grounds! Sworn statements are for eyewitness accounts of a happening, not of conversational details! This is hearsay!” Parlay shouted.
“Overruled! Red Eye was a second party to the conversation and has had substantive portions of the mentioned details confirmed by independent witnesses according to the notations accompanying the sworn statement. That falls under an exception to limitations on hearsay. Public conversations are not the kind of thing you can easily hide, Miss Parlay, not even under the law,” Celestia said, giving Parlay a stern gaze.
“Mister Shooter, in the statement of Red Eye it was stated that the conversation questioned the moral rectitude of Co- of the jenny accompanying me to the theater, and also that disparaging remarks were made concerning donkeys in general, which included but were not limited to a lack of a Cutie Mark, the state of their knees and a denigration of mules and those who produce them,” Blueblood said, his even tone wavering as he fought to hold back his emotions.
“That conversation... was personal and private,” Shady said, some of the wind out of his sails. He still glared up at Blueblood, and ground his teeth. “You still hit me. You don't deny it. I have witnesses.”
“And I have mitigation,” Blueblood stated, on the verge of seething. “The sworn statement, with corroboration from other sources, indicate you were mockingly braying at the jenny in question, with the intent of insulting her ethnic heritage and denigrating her personally, as at the time you were insulting the creation of mules.”
“You still... hit me...” Shady repeated, impotently.
“I am finished with this subject,” Blueblood said, voice dripping with contempt. He turned away and trotted back to his own table. “With this statement I feel my defense by mitigation is solid.”
“A defense by mitigation denies any punitive damages. Will you drop your suit against Prince Blueblood, Miss Parlay?” Celestia asked.
“I still request a summary judgment, your majesties,” Parlay said, a trifle humbled. “I must take my client's case as far as I may. Prince Blueblood still performed a violent act and assaulted a citizen of Equestria, a very serious thing when the nobility are involved. Some penalty must be assessed somehow.”
“Aye, in sooth it must be so,” Luna said. “Therefore, stand thou, great-nephew, and receive of us thy doom.”
Celestia and Luna booth stood, as Blueblood did. “We jointly and unanimously find you guilty of assaulting a non-noble citizen of Euqestria,” Celestia said, quickly adding, “With mitigation, as you were defending the dignity of another figure being verbally abused on the basis of ethnic identity.
“As is the right of this august tribunal we do leave the decision of doom unto the populace at large. Shall Prince Blueblood be returned to custody to await decision of the population.”
“Excuse me, your majesty but... what does that mean?” Parlay asked.
Celestia broke her stern demeanor to smile just slightly. “I had almost forgotten myself. But my sister remembers ancient law very well, and can see which are still on the books. A Royal Tribunal like this could involve favoritism and fiat. Scrutiny is important, no matter the verdict. And if we think it it is necessary, the actual punishment is left up to vote by the population of this metropolis, so we are not seen as tyrannical. They could even overturn a guilty verdict if they think it is appropriate.”
“So what does that mean?” Shady asked.
“It means... you had better hope all citizens of Canterlot, donkeys included, hate donkeys as much as you do,” Parlay said, slumping dejectedly behind her table.

The Canterlot Lunar Sphere story broke just before the vote on the verdict was expected. Because of the gravity of the situation a period of time was allowed to pass to let the citizens of every terrace to absorb the news and consider carefully. The true story and all the details had time to circulate fully through all the media outlets.
The real story defused the usual knee-jerk mockery of Blueblood, and changed a lot of the appearances that needed to be presented by all the various populations, especially in the nobility and the especially rich and powerful ponies. With Blueblood being held up as a forthright, pure-souled defender of a slighted jenny maid and paragon of goodness, not to mention a perfect example of a pony in an inter-sentient relationship. A lot of the theater patrons from that night made shocked and scandalized comments about the happenings and expressed pure disbelief that such terrible happenings could occur in Canterlot.
It was a foregone conclusion that all the palace folk would vote to nullify the verdict. From the guards to the servants, all the ones that used to use Blueblood as their go-to punchline were solidly behind him, all but building a statue of him. It was one of their number that had been slighted, and it was Blueblood that had dared to rush up to her defense.
For all the other, ordinary citizens of the mountain the vote came down to what they thought of their home. The entire Principality was cosmopolitan, and growing more so as the likes of buffalo, Diamond Dogs and Changelings were integrated into the nation. Canterlot, at all levels, prided itself as being the true heart of the nation, reflecting all the values of the land, but more often trying to be the one presenting those values first. A certain ego and pride came from being part of Canterlot, no matter the terrace.
The papers trumpeted the results of the vote across all the front pages and cover stories. Blueblood's conviction was overturned. He had been defending a third party from bigoted abuse of a very extreme nature. Given the egregious nature of the bigotry displayed in the evidence that led to the overturning of Blueblood's conviction brought judgments against both Red Eye and Shady Shooter. As Red Eye provided the statements that revealed the true nature of the incident and promised to attend sensitivity courses he was left largely alone. As for Shady...
“Th-this can't be legal!” Shady struggled and thrashed against the bindings he was in. his whole body had been wrapped in fireproof fabric and lots of padding. He was wearing a helmet with attached iron horn cap and his face was smeared in a thick smearing of fireproof cream. He looked very like a very fireproofed taquito.
“Her majesty made certain that the law still existed,” Cavalier Golden Stare said with a smug grin. “It was never removed because most folks simply forgot about it. There was never a reason to apply it... until now.”
“No! This is impossible! No one could ever have done this before!” Shady continued to wriggle and fight against his bonds as Golden, Rosy Cranberry and Dark Skies watched several Lunar unicorn guards sliding him into a huge, brightly painted cannon.
“According to my wife this is what they did to very improper ponies a thousand years ago. Rather than assess punitive damage against you, this was much simpler,” Dark Skies said, looking down range at a giant haystack. “Have all the angles been figured out?”
“Yes, Destrier!” One of the unicorns called, snapping a sharp salute. “We await the command of the Cavalier.”
“Well now, I guess this is your show,” Dark Skies said to Golden.
“As it so often is, in so many places,” Rosy said, with a soft laugh behind a hoof and a deepening of his blush.
Golden coughed into a hoof and did his best to look stern and unaffected despite being very aware that everypony was looking at him. “Aim!” The unicorns carefully directed the cannon towards the haystack. “Prime!” the mechanisms at the rear of the cannon were adjusted and a fuse was inserted into the end. “Fire!”
One unicorn touched a flame to the fuse, sending it slowly down to the cannon. Despite the legality of the punishment it was no longer acceptable to actually use charged powder to fire anypony out of a cannon. It was entirely acceptable, however, to produce a flash for effect while the powder pushed up a launching platform. Shady screamed the entire time he was in the air, hitting the haystack with a grunt and thump.
As the unicorns ran over to check on his condition and release him from all of his bindings Golden looked on the caved-in haystack and asked the other pegasi, “Given what he did don't you kind of wish he had missed?” The others just sagely nodded their heads.

“Oh you!” Connie slammed heavily into Blueblood and gave him a near-bone-crushing hug, rubbing her snout against his neck. “I can't believe this.”
“And it is wonderful to see you too!” Blueblood squeaked, returning the hug with what strength he could muster. “I do hope you did not miss me too badly.”
“Heh, well, maybe not as much as you missed me...” Connie said, releasing Blueblood and giving him a shy smile. “But I... I did. I missed you, Blueblood. I missed you...”
“Well did he stand, strong and sure, knowing that truth would free him from the clutch of evil. In all did his soul steel itself as thine image did impress upon it. To be with thee wast his only aim, and he did aim true,” Luna said, standing proudly by Connie and Blueblood. “All this city, and surely all the nation beside doth cheer his goodness. He doth bring honor to his status, and to me.”
“And me,” Connie said, planting a quick, warm kiss on Blueblood's lips. “So that's what a good first date is like. A mob scene, insults and a fight.”
“I... am sorry,” Blueblood said softly. “It was never my intention...”
“Take me on another date,” Connie said, lightly nudging Blueblood with a smile. “I've never had two.”
“Something inside the palace, perhaps? There would be far more privacy,” Blueblood noted.
“I think I could stand that,” Connie laughed.
“Maybe a party. Say... an engagement party?” Blueblood levitated a bracelet out from an internal pocket. It was gold, with a silver band around the outside, which was studded with precious gems.
“No... no you can't... be...” Connie's eyes were wide, her breath puffing out in shock, one hoof in front of her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes as Blueblood went down to his knees. “What..?”
“Connie... you were the only one who could ever reach me. The only being in all the world to be in my sphere, and only because you stooped to meet me. Please... let me try to make up for being a bad coltfriend by being a good husband...”
> Almost-Deleted Chapter: The Stallion in the Mirror
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	

“He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche





“We call them cool, those hearts that have no scars to show, the ones that never do let go and risk the tables being turned. We call them fools, who have to dance within the flame, who chance the sorrow and the shame that always comes with getting burned. But you've got to be tough when consumed by desire, 'cause it's not enough just to stand outside the fire.”
-Garth Brooks, Standing outside the fire



“You really are quite a prize, aren't you?” Blueblood blew a kiss towards his image in the mirror and popped his brows. “Ahh no wonder you are the envy of all the stallions and the desire of all the mares,” He said with a soft laugh and another blown kiss. “You really do have it all, don't you?”
“You think you have it all?” A voice said, from nowhere. It was a hauntingly familiar voice, even if it carried with it an unmistakeable tone of malice.
“Well of course I have it all!” Blueblood looked around in surprise and alarm, though he tried to keep his voice calm. He had to maintain some dignity despite things. “Mares want me, stallions want to be me and all look up to me as a shining example of how one can change in good ways. And that ignores my wife! Ahh yes... I feel like a robber, taking her away from the world. Can you believe she actually deigned to marry me?”
“What?!”” The voice grew more powerful, the evil within it spiking as it practically shook Blueblood. “You would think any other creature on the face of the planet is superior to you in any fashion?”
“My wife is indeed better than I am in many ways. Certainly stronger, much kinder though I am getting much better, she is easier to talk to, and she has a much easier time trying new foods and situations. But I must say I am starting to enjoy the carnival fare she has been introducing...” Blueblood said, drifting off into personal musing.
“No!” The angry voice soon was seen to have an identity. It was Blueblood's reflection. His look was hard and cold, eyes narrowed, mouth turned down and teeth showing. “You weak and stupid fool! You think you have everything? Where is your power?! Where is your ego? You think yourself less than your wife and you think yourself so great?”
“We are partners. We have our areas where we are weak or strong but really, I recognize in myself that weakness others used to mock. I see now it was correct, and Connie is teaching me to rise up to be greater,” Blueblood said, peering deep into the mirror. “And as for my power, well, the Celestian Honorarium is not very temporally powerful any longer. But I still have all my pomp and appearances and that has become much more well-received of late...”
“You fool!” The Doppelganger reached through the mirror, using both legs and magic to yank the real Blueblood through the silvered surface.
Blueblood found himself dropped rather unceremoniously into the middle of a dark, stone-floored space. There was nothing but a single, weak light overhead casting a dim circle around him, leaving everything else in the shadows. “What... what is this? What has happened.”
“This is the domain of a real stallion, a true Prince, one with real power and real superiority,” The malevolent Doppelganger said, slowly strolling into the light. He looked like a cruel-eyed and scowling version of the true Blueblood, alike in near every respect, save for a necklace. He wore a gold chain that ended in a lavender unicorn horn. “You are a pathetic pretender, knowing nothing of anything, whether it be power or pleasure.”
“I'll thank you to not presume about the nature of my pleasure,” Blueblood snorted, waving dismissively at the imposter. “What my wife and I do in the privacy of our boudoir is ours and ours alone. I do not need you probing into it.”
“I'd be doing more probing than just in the bedroom, and more than just with some wife,” The Doppelganger said with a lewd grin. “But that is not the point. Where is your will? Where is your real power? Why can you not do all that you ever wished? Take power and pleasure and treasure as you will?”
“What? Like some Discordian? Preposterous! Great-auntie Celestia and Great-auntie Luna would have my hide for such a callous and blatant breach of the laws of Equestria,” Blueblood said, appearing wholly disgusted and scandalized.
“You do not speak in terms of your own will. You speak of others. Why do you not cow your relatives into submission or convince them to do as you do? Take your desires! Grasp them tight and do what you wish! How can you let yourself be so neutered?” The Doppelganger stared at Blueblood. Even though he was quite incensed, there was a sort of calm fury about him.
“They care for the nation. How can they not? The ponies and others rely on them for guidance, for stability, for support. They give, and they receive. They have always tried to show me this. I was such a selfish little foal, even a grown stallion. And now, in my role as husband, I can see so much more clearly there is more to life than simple pleasures...” Blueblood said with a slight smile, running through his memories of Connie and his great-aunts.
"That's true," The imitation Prince said, "Life is also a chance to make others experience pain." He said it with such a casual tone, lightly touching the horn on his necklace.
“Wh-what?!” Blueblood's head shot up, a disbelieving look in his wide, almost-fearful eyes. “Pain? What manner of foolishness is this?”
“You mean to tell me that you, as Prince, even a neutered and blighted one, never took advantage of your power and secrecy and made another suffer at your will?” The imposter looked almost shocked by the news, peering rather disbelievingly at Blueblood. “I thought there was a trace of real will in you.”
“I... I cannot even fathom such a thing. To suffer? To what end?” Blueblood's voice was small and quavering. He was trapped in a dark limbo with a monster.
“To my end. To endure agony because I will it. To make them bend to my will. They will say anything, do anything, all for the promise that I will make it stop. They will say how much they love my advances, how grand, glorious and perfect I am. They think I will obey their pathetic, meaningless wishes. I have my plans, and they presume too much, to the point of insult, to think those plans have anything to do with what their pitiful little lives need or want. Imagine, being told what to do, to listen to a mewling peasant if they say 'please stop,' 'don't hurt my children' or even 'no.' Impossible. Unthinkable. None tells a Prince 'no',” The false Prince said, a sickening smile on his features, even as he ran through the things he detested.
“But... why... why do that with so much agony? Why not... be grand, glorious and perfect?” Blueblood had nowhere to go. He almost felt as though if he stepped out of the weak little circle of light he would be swallowed by the darkness forever.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," The ersatz Prince said, fiddling with the horn on his necklace again, "My work is noble. Only through great pain does one gain an appreciation for pleasure."
“So you have suffered too? You know this kind of pain?” Blueblood grasped the subject like a drowning stallion clutching a slimy piece of driftwood. Some little strength came back to him as he imagined some explanation existed.
“Don't be ludicrous,” The imposter spat, giving a dismissive wave of his hoof. “I have never suffered in my life. I am a prince. I have been held aloft, in my proper sphere, above every petty concern. But their pain becomes my pleasure. By examining their agony and how I control their suffering, I may bring my pleasure to grand new plateaus. I am a libertine. There is nothing more important than my pleasure and my desires. My demands are absolute and imperative, nothing could interrupt them. Not even the nation. It will putter on, or else they will see how I may bring them agony. My forces will rush through and torment them until they obey once again and do as I say.”
Blueblood could not process the very idea that was being presented. It was utterly incomprehensible to a native Equestrian mind like his. He focused on some other thing. “I notice... you wear a horn. From where... did it come?” His mouth was dry, and tongue heavy. Anything would be preferable to the conversation he was having.
“Oh this little trinket?” The imposter nudged the horn and smiled. “It came, of course, from a unicorn. One who had died.”
“Oh, I see...” Blueblood cudgeled his brain to come up with an explanation that he could fit into his view of the world. “Was it... something that belonged to an ancestor which you have chosen to use as a means of honoring your family?”
“No, no. It is very new. It came from a mare within my domain,” The Doppelganger said.
“Oh! Oh I am terribly sorry for your loss. She must have meant much to you. Your close lover, perhaps?” Blueblood asked. He looked at the horn. There was something vaguely familiar about it.
“A virtual stranger. Some nameless scholar who violated my strictures. I invented charges against her, tortured her to death and keep her horn as my prize,” The libertine impostor said, with a very light tone.
Blueblood staggered back, one hoof leaving the circle of light. “P-prize?” Rather than being swallowed by the dark, the step made the light go up a bit more. It showed there was a shelf just out of sight. Beneath it he could see something that looked very much like a cider barrel. He recognized it because the kitchen stocked a few, at his great-aunt Luna's request.
“A prize. A souvenir. Proof of my power and conquest. I know what it means. Those in the know, the cognoscenti, my fellow libertines, understand what it is to do as I do,” The imposter slowly started to trot around Blueblood, smiling his sickening smile. The light began to rise slowly, and show at least what was on the shelf above the cider barrel. There looked to be a geode piece, whitish crystals growing out into blue spikes, as well as a beak whose size meant it could only have come from a griffin.
“You can't simply do something like that. You cannot impose your will over another in such a fashion. They have the right to live as much as you do,” Blueblood said. His eyes darted to another shelf coming into view. There rested something that looked like a Wonderbolts' hood, but in black, with something of a sinister appearance. Beside it was what appeared to be a cookbook, the cover smeared with some dark red, nearly black, substance. “Peasants though they are their effort shores up your nation. As they toil so you gain, as it has been carefully explained to me. They matter, in fact, more than you...”
“None matters more than me! Even my fellow libertines are subservient to me. They know their place and are grateful I let them stay there,” The fake Prince said with some venom, continuing to work his way around the real Blueblood, the light revealing steadily more. A few small clothing stands came into view. One held a torn and stained dress, that evoked some vague memory in Blueblood of a past Grand Galloping Gala. One held a star-bedecked cape. The last was smaller, sized for a foal. On it was an ill-made sweater with five legs, while leaning against it was a broken scooter, also sized for a foal. “None are beyond my power. Should I lust for any thing in my domain, from treasure to mares, to foals, it is mine. Nothing-”
“Ridiculous!” Blueblood found his voice, and started to circle around the imposter himself, eying the creature warily. Even so he noted what he could see was almost the last shelf in the room. It held a white rabbit's skin, and a very ornate wooden staff that was very familiar indeed. He had seen that zebra apothecary carrying such a thing, and it had left a strong impression. Attached to it was a red ribbon done up in a bow, stained with what he could no longer deny had to be blood. “The land works by give and take. You rule because others have allowed it. If you are unobtrusive and inoffensive they will support you! I learned that well. Canterlot voted to overturn a conviction because I did the right thing!” Blueblood snorted sharply and drew into the circling, tightening the spiral he was making with his Doppelganger.
“Bah! Others. Worthless, stupid, pitiful, pathetic creatures! Dirt, or worse. If they are lucky they will be made to lick the mud from under my hooves and they will thank me for the chance to clean the filth from my glorious form! I will reward them with a kick to the stomach, and they will thank me for that as well. They will weep in joy as I kill all they love with beheading or poison and spare them the torture I have saved for those who excite my lust,” The ersatz Prince was growing less smooth and more grating, also pulling his spiral in tighter. “Other ponies exist for my use. My fiat is law, and nothing else is more important! What else could be?”
“This selfishness will give you a life that is brutal, bloody and short! Your own friends will take your madness to heart and take you at your word! You think you are safe? Not among selfish egos that can see you as no better than any other. Even if they fear you, their fear will be your end,” Blueblood came in close, but not too close, to his mirror image, a fury in his eyes and his teeth bared. “I will live a long and happy life, loved by the population, able to do as I like with sensible limits and savoring each moment that I have love and family with me. I will lose nothing of any value and gain what cannot be bought. Years. Years and life.”
“I fill one year, one blood-soaked, agony-filled, scream-drenched year with more life than all your hollow years of limitations and the lie they call love. Love is weakness and not a thing more. Foolishness taught to weak creatures, made to turn ponies into fawning little victims. I have power! I have broken free from limits, free from the lie of love and concern for other ponies!” The Doppelganger had his horn glowing threateningly, angled down slightly towards Blueblood.
“Not life, only death. You say you live but you live like a miser. Locked inside yourself, never growing. A small, stunted, pathetic thing that does not deserve the power you have. Your own population will turn on you, and your own guards will see the writing on the wall and know they can survive by turning on you. Your ego blinds you to the real. You are not immune to anything!” Blueblood also had his horn lit and down, just waiting for the right moment. “You speak only of ponies. The population is so much more than that. Changelings, Diamond Dogs, buffalo, griffins, zebras, dragons, and never forget about donkeys.”
“Non-ponies are a filth that can be exploited, crushed and thrown away. They are lesser things, mere objects. Suitable only for slaughter and slavery. To do anything with any of them is only to reinforce their lowly place, to show they can be used like cheap toys and then crushed without guilt, more garbage for the pile,” The fake darted his eyes aside, to the last area that had been in shadow. There was nothing there but a peg. And on that peg were two long, gray pieces of skin. One end flat but ragged, the other pointed. Like long rabbit ears. “You need not even learn their names-”
With a cry of wounded rage Blueblood closed the gap between himself and his imitator, striking his horn-tip against the impostor's. He gave another mighty cry as every last once of his magic surged through in one grand pulse, not only overpowering and pushing down the other magical charge but destroying the horn as it flowed down. When it hit the libertine's forehead it exploded in a burst of rainbow light and sent the screaming creature to his back. Blueblood was on him in a flash, hooves at his throat, pressing in solidly. Unicorn or no, his righteous fury was giving his strength. “You beast... monster... how dare you even have the audacity to look even the slightest bit like me?!”
Even though his horn had been obliterated and blood oozed from the blasted spot on his head the ersatz prince still had a grin on his bloody lips. “Just... like me...” The fake pushed and struggled against Blueblood, his indignation at opposition shown through his activities. “Murderous, pain-fixated, and set to your own will in opposition of others...”
“That is not even a good bluff,” Blueblood huffed, pressing his hooves in harder. He was no murderer, and wasn't even sure if he was doing anything. “I am nothing like you at all. I take no pleasure in doing this. As they say to the border guards and the Everfree watchers, this is a grim duty that serves. However it may hurt, it serves all of Equestria. And that is the true difference. I feel pain in doing this, regret, remorse. But that does not stop me from the grim truth.”
“More... lies...” The imitation Blueblood choked loudly and gagged a bit, his eyes bulging out. Still he somehow breathed on. “Lies of the slaves beneath true rulers. You think it is a grim duty but you do it. You love it. You relish it. You cherish this freedom to engage in the blood lust you have repressed. You kill me because it is in you to do so, to make me servant to your will. You are me, through and through...”
Blueblood felt a tremendous strength well up in him, his hooves angling in more, lifting the head of his Doppelganger and finally silencing him. “No! I am not like you at all. In times before my great-aunties sent the Undergods to Tartarus to suffer forever! Monsters big and small are put down by guards and have been for ages! Even now, some unknown constable was instrumental in killing the last free Undergod! Understand this, I will never take your side on anything! I love Connie and for some reason I will never understand she loves me. I love her with all my heart, all my soul and all my will. I swore in the name of the Elements of Harmony that we would be together forever and a day. Whatever fate waits for us after the end of our lives we will be together through that too! Your big talk sounds like a baby whining! This libertaritine... liber... whatever nonsense it is is sick and horrible! And I! Will! Not! Be! You!” With a sickening crack the imposter's neck snapped and the hateful thing went still.
As soon as the fake died the scene practically exploded, all the evil artifacts blasted to dust, the very environment atomized to leave a misty void. Even the body dissolved into mist, leaving Blueblood alone, yet not really alone. A swirl of the mist revealed a dark cloak, which was swept back to reveal Princess Luna, her face neutral. “Well met, great-nephew. Well hast thou carried thyself in this endeavor.”
Blueblood was still panting, his eyes wide and halfway between frightened and upset. He snapped his gaze to Luna and gave a soft shiver. “This... this was... what was this? Great-auntie that was horrifying! This... odious mockery of me was like some kind of soulless beast and yet he tried to convince me of everything he thought! What sort of-”
Luna threw up a hoof and stopped Blueblood in mid-sentence, using the force of the Royal Canterlot voice. “Hold, great-nephew. What sort of stallion be but full of echoes? Thou hast ever known but plenty and security, and that all thy whims be done, as existed at the start of the path of the beast thou hast slain. Thou must know fear, loss, privation. But are not your other great-aunt nor I willing that thou shouldst be harmed in the world of waking. Thus it was to place before thee this. The end of a road, and mix of dreams that have been seen in the hearts of slumbering nobles. No, and thou wond'rest, naught be real, yet they dream them in the same token.”
Blueblood held his fury for a moment longer before all the information sank in and made him realize she was right. “Restraint. Compassion. Understanding. Connie.”
“Aye. Thou hadst about thee sanguine spirits of good sooth. 'Twas the aegis 'gainst the fate of pure selfishness. Hast thou restraint in thy soul, howe'er thy sire and dam stamp'd thee. Hast thou now seen the conclusion of the path that doth lack such. May thou never want for good sooth and fine company,” Luna said.
Blueblood nodded slowly. He looked around the blank space he occupied, almost still seeing the horrible collection that had previously occupied the place. “That was hideous. Such a dark thing to imagine, collecting objects stolen from the dead. The dead he had killed. And even from... from foals. And Connie's... is that really what... I mean... you look into the dreams of all, even the nobility? And they dream it? It seems impossible...”
Luna nodded sagely. “Aye, 'tis so. But, 'tis so, great-nephew. What is real doth not become mere fancy that we think it so, but fancy may be real and it be pressed into light of day, out o' the crown of Mad Tom of Bedlam and Mad Maudlin, howe'er they may dress their madness in broadcloth of manners and nobility. There must e'er be guard 'gainst such fates. Lesser nobles be restrained by greater and greater still by my sister and my self. But restraint may fail. And while we may not peer into the lives of other nobles too deeply, in yours may we gaze. Blood art thou not yet art thou princely born all the same, and it doth shew in thy countenance in these days as thou takest thy position as husband and friend of the fair maid that did enrapture thy soul. As thou beest family, the concern be greater, and liberty all the more to peer deep in thy doings. So it was and had to be that thou didst find this monster, that thou didst peer deep into the abyss of madness, and that thou didst slay the beast and prove that thou art worthy of thy birthright.”
“Was he right?” Blueblood asked, plaintively, looking down at his front hooves. “I felt some confused mix of emotions when I finally crushed the life out of him. Could I be... a monster?”
“Touch thine horn's base, great-nephew,” Luna said.
Blueblood reached up and touched the base of his horn. The one division between him and the imitation. The imitation had worn a murdered unicorn's horn on his neck. Blueblood had a gold-and-silver band around the base of his horn. His wedding ring. A perfect match for the bracelet Connie wore. “Connie...”
“Would thy bride have thee were thou a monster? As thou hast said, she be thy better, thou hast bended thy knee to her of thine own will. She doth remain with thee, of her will. Answer thou thine own query: Art thou a monster?”
Blueblood slowly curled up on the ethereal ground, a smile on his face. “Good night, great-auntie.”
“Bon nuit, great-nephew. May all thy fancies be sweet, soft and filled with thy true love,” Luna said, slowly fading from view.

Blueblood awoke suddenly, his knowledge that he was dreaming forcing him out of the dream and back to the real world. He was exactly where he had been. In the center of his tremendous, soft bed beneath the smooth, filmy covers, pressed tight against his wife's body. He was still himself, not some kind of insane monster.
With a heavy sigh of relief Blueblood curled up against Connie, squeezing her solid body tighter, nosing at the back of her neck. He buried his face deep in her sweet-smelling mane and smiled. “I love you, Connie. You finished what my great-aunties started. You made me a real prince.”
Connie shifted slightly and stretched her limbs a little bit. “Mmm, dear... it's still dark out, and I'm a little tired. Go ahead and do what you need to. I'll take a shower in the morning and change the sheets.”
Blueblood actually laughed at that and slid his snout up, to tease at Connie's ears. “I would prefer you be able to respond to me. I do not have lust on my mind. Sometimes I think I should tell you I love you. I think every waking moment I should tell you.”
“Calm down, Blueblood. We're already married. You don't have to keep trying to impress me,” Connie said with a kind of fatigued mirth. “But if you really feel like saying things like that I won't object. Some sleep would be nice but if you want to be mushy and sweet... I think I can handle that.” Connie's ears folded back, to rest on Blueblood's face, wiggling a little bit to tickle him.
They were so warm, so active and cute. So very alive. As he lipped at them Blueblood remembered the horrifying image of them, separated from Connie, like mere things. All those objects, stolen from others that had been taken away from those they truly loved. To diminish love, to take security and longevity of the nation for the sake of a selfish desire. Foolishness. “I am no fool,” Blueblood muttered as his lips worked along one long ear.
“What was that dear? Ironically, I can't hear you very well with my ear in your mouth,” Connie said with a braying laugh.
“I said I stopped being a fool. You told me I was one, and I was pushed down a path to cure myself of that. You made me this prince I am. I am only glad I could return the favor. You make a better princess than I do a prince,” Blueblood said.
“Let's call it a draw. I have a lot to learn, you have a lot to unlearn. But you're getting better,” Connie wiggled her ample hind end against Blueblood and relaxed herself. “We can talk about this more in the morning. Sleep sounds just so good right about now.”
“I shall join you shortly,” Blueblood whispered, as Connie's breathing grew shallower and her ears went still. Soon enough she had fallen back asleep. He hugged her carefully, making sure not to wake her again. He could face the stallion in the mirror. He could face a thousand stallions in the mirror. They could lie and threaten all they liked. He had a long, deliriously happy life ahead of him, stuffed to the rafters with love, fun, humor and his sweetheart. He would not trade all those long years for anything, least of all some empty promise of pain and mismanagement. With that comforting thought he drifted off to join Connie in sleep again.



“You can't build a peaceful world on empty stomachs and human misery.”
-Dr. Norman Borlaug





“Our commitment to human rights must be absolute, our laws fair, our natural beauty preserved; the powerful must not persecute the weak, and human dignity must be enhanced.”
-Jimmy Carter





“To be true to ourselves, we must be true to others.”
-Jimmy Carter