//------------------------------// // 580 - What Mares Want // Story: Lateral Movement // by Alzrius //------------------------------// “Hoity Toity is an eminent fashion critic, one whose opinions are well-regarded by anypony who pays attention to the trends of high society. He should be on the guest list.” “He’s also from Canterlot, which means he’s one of the princesses’ sycophants. I guarantee you that if he shows up for Prince Legis’ coronation, it will be so he can trash it in the press after it concludes in order to score points with Celestia and Luna.” Stuffed Shirt scowled, sending a disapproving glare at River Bank from the far side of her study. “I’ve known Hoity Toity for years, and I’m telling you, you’re wrong about him. He might be pompous enough to give Blueblood a run for his money, but his appraisals are always apolitical in nature.” River arched a brow in Stuffed Shirt’s direction, meeting his look with one of her own. “And if you’re wrong, then His Highness is the one who looks like an upstart playing pretend to the rest of Equestria, which isn’t a risk I think is worth taking. Prim Hemline is a much safer choice.” “Prim Hemline?” sputtered Stuffed Shirt, aghast. “That persnickety perfectionist from Manehattan? She’ll see a tablecloth slightly askew somewhere during the ceremony and write about how the entire thing was a disaster!” “Then make sure the tablecloths are all on straight,” shot back River dryly. Years of having dealt with Blueblood’s tantrums had given Stuffed Shirt a very large reservoir of patience when it came to dealing with obstinate ponies, and it served him well now as he took a deep breath. “Miss Bank-” “I had lunch with Prim two years ago,” interrupted River, “when my idiot husband lured her out here with the promise of an all-expenses-paid trip in order to have her review his idea for a line of inflatable clothing.” The disgust in her voice made it clear what she thought of that idea. “Before she told him exactly how hideous the mock-ups he’d had designed were, she expressed frustration with how Canterlot is the culture capital of Equestria, while Manehattan remains a distant second when it comes to sophistication. That’s why her standards are so high: she knows that only by being the first one to endorse something uniquely fashionable and utterly without flaw will let her beat those Canterlot ponies at their own game.” Stuffed Shirt paused to take that in for a moment. “And you think she’ll find what she’s looking for at His Highness’ coronation?” “Your Royal Clothier did a good job making the prince look handsome for the dinner party we threw for those Las Pegasus nitwits, and that was a last-minute arrangement with almost nothing to work with,” shrugged River. “Do you think he’ll be able to top himself by the time the coronation arrives?” “I…of course,” replied Stuffed Shirt hesitantly, the compliment toward his colleague having caught him by surprise. She’d said much the same thing the night of the dinner party when she’d seen His Highness in his new outfit, of course, but that was to be expected; only a fool created strife with a co-worker in full view of their employer. For her to express that same sentiment in private meant that she was being genuine. That was unexpected, to say the least. Stuffed Shirt had simply assumed that, much like her staff – or rather, her former staff, since by now their recent change of employment was common knowledge – River Bank viewed him and everypony else in the royal retinue as outsiders with whom she was competing. For her to so casually praise the efforts of one of their number now made Stuffed Shirt wonder if he’d been uncharitable toward her. “Coat Tail has been a Royal Clothier for almost fifteen years now. I’m sure he’ll outdo his previous work by orders of magnitude when designing Prince Legis’ coronation outfit.” “Then there’s nothing to worry about,” concluded River. “Besides, if we make it clear to Prim that nopony from the Canterlot fashion scene has been invited, she’ll realize that this is her shot and seize it for all its worth.” She leered then, her eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if, by the time she’s done, she’s made him into a bigger heartthrob than Blueblood ever was.” “That might be a tad difficult, considering that he’s already in an amorous relationship with Miss Dusk and Miss Blaze,” lamented Stuffed Shirt. “To say nothing of the vow he made to his goddess to remain a bachelor. While it was always more fantasy than reality, the possibility of marrying into royalty was a large part of Blueblood’s allure, and Prince Legis won’t have that.” But rather than being discouraged by the flaws he’d found with her reasoning, River burst out laughing, surprising Stuffed Shirt for the second time in as many minutes. “Are you kidding?” she chuckled, giving him a bemused look. “If anything, that’ll make him more attractive.” Stuffed Shirt could only blink, flummoxed. “And you’ve come to that conclusion how, exactly?” The question made River’s grin widen. “You really don’t know how mares think at all, do you?” Huffing at the blatant teasing, Stuffed Shirt sat back, crossing his forelegs over his chest. “Why would Prince Legis’ being in a relationship with two of the most beautiful ladies in Equestria, and having sworn never to marry, make him an object of desire?” “Because the more a mare thinks that she can’t have a particular stallion, the more she wants him,” answered River. Stuffed Shirt waited for her to elaborate. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to, he gave her a skeptical look. “So the female half of Equestria is stricken with chronic contrarianism when it comes to romance?” Sighing, River leaned back in her chair. “Let me put it this way: Blueblood had a lot of mares throwing themselves at him, didn’t he? Why do you think that was?” Stuffed Shirt snorted. “Because he was a prince, though I suppose that his being handsome helped, along with them not knowing how awful his personality really was.” River shook her head. “Looks don’t matter nearly as much to mares as they do to stallions. Personality counts for more, but even that’s not disqualifying. You’d be amazed how many mares think that loving a stallion long enough, hard enough will change his character.” “Which leaves only his being a prince,” concluded Stuffed Shirt, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. “Exactly,” nodded River. “So why did that bring the mares out in force?” This time Stuffed Shirt put some thought into his answer, mulling the question over for a few moments before replying. “Because…being with a prince makes them feel special?” “I’m impressed. I thought you’d say something stupid like ‘because princes are rich.’” “I almost did,” admitted Stuffed Shirt. “Even if they were in the minority, some of the ladies who approached Blueblood made it clear that they were fine with a relationship that was…transactional in nature.” “I’m sure they did,” sneered River. “The same way I’m sure that some of them were hoping to get pregnant so they could rope him into marrying them.” Her expression turned rueful then. “That one’s a winner if you can pull it off. But for most mares, it’s because princes can choose to be with almost anyone, so if he wants to be with one mare in particular it must mean that there’s something about her, and her alone, that no other mare has.” “And that’s even more true for Prince Legis?” River nodded. “Think about how he looks to those dewy-eyed dreamers, compared to Blueblood. He’s not playing the field the way his predecessor was, even though he could now that he’s royalty. Instead, he’s vowed to remain single, which to most mares will mean that he’s given up hope of having a fulfilling relationship. He keeps Sonata and Aria around to sate his desires, but that’s all, convinced that he’ll never meet the love of his life.” “I’m given to understand that His Highness does indeed love Miss Dusk and Miss Blaze very much,” pointed out Stuffed Shirt. “Nor is he shy about proclaiming his feelings publicly, when asked.” River waved a hoof as though shooing an annoying fly away. “That won’t matter. He doesn’t act affectionate toward them, so the mares who’re dreaming about winning his heart will simply assume that he only thinks he loves those two, but won’t know what love really is until he meets them. When he does, then it won’t be about looks or sex or status or anything else. It’ll be that he’s suddenly found somepony who makes him smile and laugh and sing and dance and enjoy being alive in a way he obviously doesn’t now. Somepony so special that he’ll send Sonata and Aria packing, and break his vow to the Night Mare, because he just has to be with this one-of-a-kind mare that he found, no matter what it costs him, since he can’t bear to go back to the cold, grey life he was living before he met her.” Silence fell as River finished, giving Stuffed Shirt a pointed look as though daring him to disbelieve her. “That’s what mares want,” she pronounced at last, “and that’s why – if his public debut is managed correctly – he’ll be an even bigger hit among them than Blueblood ever was.” Stuffed Shirt didn’t answer immediately, his melancholy growing as he processed everything River had just told him…and compared it to the relationships he’d been in. Of course, calling them “relationships” was being far too generous. When it came to romantic connections with the opposite sex, Stuffed Shirt’s experiences had been decidedly lacking in romance. Such was the nature of his job. Being the chief servant to the most eligible bachelor in Equestria meant that there were some mares who’d cast their eyes his way, thinking that being with him would give them greater access to Blueblood. Having been warned of exactly this by his predecessor before he’d formally assumed the position of Royal Valet, Stuffed Shirt had managed to avoid having his heart broken; indeed, he’d reveled in the situation at first. A never-ending stream of mares looking to entice him with their bodies, without wanting any sort of real commitment – and who quickly ended things when Blueblood inevitably refused to give them the time of day – had seemed like a dream come true for a healthy young stallion, especially one as effete and willowy as him. The situation had lost its allure fast, however. At first it had been little things, like moaning the wrong mare’s name during a tryst, only to find that his partner didn’t care. Or being asked not to introduce his current paramour as his girlfriend when he brought her to royal functions. Or how so few of them would ever want to kiss, even during sex. Gradually, his awareness of what he was missing had grown, creeping into his consciousness in spite of his attempts not to think about it. Realizing that he’d never walked a mare home. That he had no pictures of any of the ladies he’d been with. That he didn’t know their birthdays, favorite colors, hobbies, or anything about them besides how good of a lay they were. But worst had been seeing the difference in the way those mares had looked at Blueblood compared to him. Whereas they’d seemed to gaze right through him more often than not, their eyes had always lit up when they’d fallen on the handsome prince, the sight of him animating them in a way that Stuffed Shirt – no matter how vigorously he’d tried to please them – never had. That had been when he’d realized he couldn’t do it anymore. That what had seemed like an endless source of pleasure without responsibility was in fact meaningless, because none of the mares he’d hooked up with had actually cared about him. That to them, he was a means to an end, rather than being someone special. Was that really any different than what River was saying mares wanted? Feeling chastised, Stuffed Shirt shook his head, pulling himself out of the reverie he’d fallen into. “Okay, Prim Hemline it is then.” River smirked. “So glad you agree.” Jotting down the name, Stuffed Shirt turned to the next order of business. “Now that we’ve decided who’ll cover the fashion angle, who should we get to do the catering?”