//------------------------------// // Sonata No. 3 - 2nd Movement: Fuga // Story: Le Prince et le Menteur // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// Nightmare Night had come and gone, with November settling in as the air got colder, the trees lost more of its leaves, Langue was at the tail end of paying off his debt.  Despite Blueblood insisting that he could reach into his coffers, Langue insisted that it was something that he alone needed to do. Paying back Fleur for what he stole. However, since he did tell the prince the truth, he could at least be at ease that his Ex didn’t have any leverage to blackmail him. On Monday mornings since he ran into her, they would meet at the Copper Pot Cafe, always sitting across from one another with a piece of pastry and a cup of coffee. Langue came by with an envelope filled with a certain amount of bits. Before he told the prince the truth, things were tense yet, was willing to stay for advice about how to possibly break up with Blueblood. However, even when he told her that the prince knew everything and she had no sway over him except for the debt, the conversation had changed. “.... Before I knew it,” Langue said between bites of a croissant, “he was peppering me with kisses.” “And you kissed back?” Fleur asked with an amused smile. Her Ex looked away with a frown, “Oh don’t be like that, you did, have you?” “Why would you care? You despise me.” “Hurt, oui, but despise…? That seems too strong of a word. Believe it or not, I don’t hate you.” “That’s because you will have my debt in full by next week.” “Well, that too. But strangely, I have been where you’re at right now? As in, the sudden realization you’re attracted to the same sex.” “Which reminds me,” Langue picked up his cup of coffee. “How is your marefriend?” “First, she’s in Ponyville for the time being. And second, don’t change the subject.” “I wasn’t.” Fleur raised an eyebrow, “What I’m saying is that I have been in your horseshoes before. I didn’t expect much when I encountered Rarity at first, even when she acted all weirdly around me. But when it became clear that not only was I attracted to her but how… arousing it all was, I panicked. I get what it’s like to have what you thought you knew about yourself to be turned upside down and given a good shake. Yet, as scary as it all might seem to you, nothing about any of this is a bad thing. It never was.” “You’re starting to sound like Blueblood.” “Maybe you should listen.” Langue tilted his head in confusion, “First you agreed to help me break up with him and now you want me to get together?” “What can I say?” She shrugged and stuck her tongue out, “I ship it.” Langue groaned. “Before you storm off,” Fleur raised a hoof, “would you at least answer one question for me?” “As much as I don’t want to.” His Ex leaned forward, “Why is loving Blueblood a bad thing?” “Huh?” He blinked. “Think about this, if you see this as a bad thing, then explain why. Give one solid reason why you shouldn’t be in a relationship with him. Go ahead, try.” He snorted, “Alright! I will. It’s because… he… just that…” As much as Langue tried to find the words, to find a good enough reason - his mind came out as blank. He wasn’t scamming him anymore. Being straight was obliterated the moment the prince kissed him and turned who he thought he was upside down. That, and the prince had made a genuine effort to get to know him, his likes, his past, his dreams, fears, insecurities… The more he tried to find what was wrong, the more difficult it became. He struggled to find even one reason, one thing to prove his Ex wrong, only… “You got nothing, have you?” Fleur asked with an amused smile. Langue huffed, “Tais-toi. (Shut up.)” “Don’t be ashamed, embrace it! Trust me, it would do you wonders when you are being honest with yourself and the whole world.” “You think it’s easy for a pony like me to do?” “Well that’s because you lack practice,” Fleur shot back. Glancing at the clock, she remarked, “Say… isn’t it time for you to go work for your coltfriend?” Getting up from his seat, he marched out of the cafe, muttering, “Dieux, je vous déteste parfois… (Gods, I hate you sometimes…)” This was a new one. Even for Langue. Once their work was done for the day, the prince whisked him off for their date. Where they ended up going wasn’t what he had expected. Perhaps a fine dining restaurant or a scenic location to cuddle alone. Maybe head over to that secret hot spring for a dip or go to his home to watch a film. But this was entirely new.  For this date, the prince took him to the shopping district of Canterlot. A place known as Cloth Square, a place where the latest fashion is on full display behind windows of glass. From Hoity Toity to Prim Hemline, Photo Finish to Trenderhoof, anything that had to do with fashion, this particular street square had the latest designs, latest trends of clothing straight off from the runways and up for sale. If anypony managed to open up a shop there, it was a clear sign of the enormous success they had, and an influence on Canterlot society as a whole. “Forgive my ignorance,” Langue said as they got off the palanquin, “but… why here?” “Well if you want the finest in clothes, there is no place in the world that could compare.” Langue rolled his eyes, “Parisiens et Vénitiens seraient violemment en désaccord. (Parisians and Venetians would violently disagree.) But why have our date here?” “Truthfully? I want to see if I could gain an opinion from you of what you think works for you. To see what would look and feel great on you.” “Huh…” Langue looked about at the street they were on at the variety of shops that displayed everything for Mares and Stallions from suits and dresses to swimwear, and everything in between. “Problem?” “Well no just… Usually, when I buy my clothes I never have a second opinion as I trust my eyes on what suits me. But this is… I don’t know the right words for it to be honest.” “Oh, always buy your clothing alone. I see. But I think this would be good for you to see what’s in fashion here in Equestria. Who knows, maybe you might find something you would like.” “I thought you always got your clothes from tailors, do you?” “On occasion, but to stay in good graces with the Canterlot Elite, it’s always best to get some of their works from the best.” “Very well,” Langue sighed, “Where do you tend to go?” “I’m glad you asked, while these shops certainly have their strengths and specialties in what they do, there is a place that I can always rely on for having high-quality clothes for the right occasions.” “That being…?” “This one.” Blueblood raised a hoof to gesture to the sign nearby. A brick, white-painted building with a sign that swings over the door. It had a pony in black with golden lines over it as if in a sketch to draw out an elaborate dress. Above was the name: Gold Lining. Langue looked to the window where it displayed two mannequins of a mare and a stallion. The mare had on a dress that was flaming in colors of bright orange and red with a hat that looked like it was stitched together with autumn leaves. The other mannequin is a suit with a black dress shirt, purple tie, and a royal blue suit. It was certainly different, Langue admitted to himself, but Blueblood showed this off as if presenting the new foal in town to the local candy shop.  Going past the glass door outlined in polished brass, Langue saw several types of clothes of every size, shape, and description. From horseshoes to hats, silks to wool, he saw rows of clothing on coat hangers and well-dressed mannequins that stood on top of podiums and tables that went up not just two floors, but even the basement level as he saw another level of clothes.  “What do you think?” Blueblood asked. “This… is quite a lot to take in.” Language looked this way and that, “So many varieties in one location. I’m not sure where to start.” “If I were you, I would dress for comfort, but not let style be sacrificed either. Think of these clothes as putting on a personality.” “For example?” Blueblood lit his horn to take a wool-knit sweater. “Take this, for instance, a sweater with a turtleneck, black in color with a Helm pattern woven in suggests that this pony is formal but reserved. Where one prefers to keep to himself but not sociable.” He then chose out a white, thin shirt. “This is the kind you would wear in a tropical climate where it says that you are laid back and easy going. Someone who goes with the flow. Or this one,” he pulled down a satin blue blouse. “Anyone wearing this would say that they’re flamboyant and don't care what you think, they’re gonna strut around in it.” “You’ve made your point.” Langue hummed in thought, looking over at the wide range of choices before gravitating towards the basement floor of the shop. Blueblood followed along towards the suit coats, weaving through the entire rainbow spectrum, designs, and patterns. Eventually, the prince asked him what he was looking for. “That is what I’m trying to figure out. Something that isn’t conservative but not loud. Different but not a strain on the eye. Where I could walk outside and not be embarrassed about wearing it. And something that I can look at a glance and say, ‘Qu'est-ce que tu sais, c'est moi! (What do you know, that’s me!)’ Perhaps something like…” He paused where there was a row of shelves that had a breast piece that consisted of two black fabrics that made it look like the lapel and collar of a suit, a white flux shirt with gold buttons, and a blue bowtie. Langue undid the back of this collar to put it around his neck and adjusted it where it fits snuggly. “How do I look?” This managed to get a giggle out of the prince, “Like me if I had red hair. It’s actually adorable.” Langue gasped, “Adorable! Me! Oh no, no! This would never do,” he undid the collar to put it back. “Is there anything wrong with being adorable?” “Of course not, if you’re five. No! It must be something that says, ‘I’m handsome. Sexy even.’ Perhaps like…” Returning to the suits, he went towards a red one that had gold buttons, black velvet around the cuffs, and a shoulder board that was decked in gold tassels. “What about this one?” Amused, Blueblood answered, “You remind me of a rock star.” “Too bad I don’t know how to play an electric guitar then.”  “That… and it seems too flashy, for you.” Humming in thought, Langue removed the coat. “Do you suppose something simplified might work?” “It could, and I would pick out a complementary color from your red mane.” Langue ran a hoof to his mane and pulled it a little to see the strands of that rosy tone. “Complementary…? What is the opposite of red?” “Green.” With a thoughtful look, Langue went over to the other end of the shop where the green suits were. All hanging in one place in a ring. Going around where every so often he would pull on a sleeve to examine the fabric. Blueblood watched him trying to select and narrow down the coats until, unexpectedly, he stopped at one.  It was a bright green color, like grass in the spring while having thin white lines that stripped the suit vertically. Putting it on, Langue buttoned it up to face a nearby mirror. “Now this… is interesting.” He mused over. In the mirror, it was somewhere between elegant but it popped. He could move around comfortably enough but highlighted his physique from the broad shoulders to subtle muscle curvature of his withers, even at the lower end where it cuts just an inch above his flank. In the mirror, the suit personified power yet embraced in its uniqueness.  “What do you think?” Blueblood asked him. Humming in thought, he answered, “Good… but something is missing from this.”  Eyeing a rack that had several kinds of hats, Langue searched for something that might fit this new look. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A fedora, which was a few shades darker from his suit had a black band around it. Putting it on, he turned to Blueblood. “What do you think? Better?” Blueblood tilted his head in amusement, “You know what you remind me of? Like one of those detectives from a film noir.” Langue looked at the mirror again. “Now that you mention it… I look like the one actor from a movie poster I saw… ‘Murder at Midnight,’ where it showed him in heavy shadow with a smoking cigarette in his lip. Strangely… this is not a bad look.” The prince smirked, “What about this that you like?” For a moment, Langue was unsure what Blueblood meant. Tilting his head, he took a moment to ponder over that question. “Une telle chose à demander. (Such a thing to ask.) I suppose… It’s difficult to explain or pinpoint what I like about it. Perhaps it’s the color or how well fit this suit is, but when I look at what I have on… It is like looking at someone else that knows what he wants… and what he wants is the finest of life to offer. To live as big as life itself.” “Is it something you would like to have?” “Do you like this?” “I think you look magnificent.” Blueblood kissed him on the cheek. “It’s all yours.” Taking off the fedora, Langue inquired, “What about you? It wouldn’t seem entirely fair that we came out here just for you to get clothes for me.” Then after a moment of pause, he added, “Now that I think about it… what about you?” “Pardon?” “You say that clothes give a personality, a character. Is there anything here that brings out something you wanted to be?” A thoughtful look came across the prince’s face. “Now that is a thought. But since you asked and it’s only just us alone… I suppose I could.” Eyeing at the changing booths and over at a few clothes on the hanging racks. “Could you… wait for me?” Curious to see where this was going, Langue said that he would. He watched the prince going about from cloth hanger to cloth hanger, picking out a rainbow of possibilities that he wondered what he was doing. Minutes later, the prince retreated to one of the changing rooms, leaving Langue alone to wait. Wander about and wait, curious to see what the prince is trying to fit himself into.  He walked past the kaleidoscope of clothing from silk to cotton, wool, and satin, picturing in his mind’s eye the possibilities of what Blueblood might be trying on. Normally he wouldn’t give this much thought regarding clothes, but the idea the prince had given him about how clothes give a certain character. The question of course was what would he go for?  A wide range of guesses ranged from the simple to the extravagant. Only he couldn’t figure out what it would be, given Blueblood’s personality. Would he go for something simplistic? Perhaps he might go for something more extravagant? Would he go something that is the opposite of him; or dive deeply into something even more over the top? Would he go for something unexpected like a cowpony outfit?  No. That would be ridiculous but… funny to see. “Oh, Langy! Where are you?” He heard the Prince calling out.  Weaving through the rows of coat hangers and mannequins, Langue made his way back towards the changing rooms. When he did find the prince, at first he thought it might have been a misplaced mannequin because of what he had on. However, when he realized that it was Blueblood, for a split moment he thought that maybe this must have been a joke. Blueblood had on an outfit that was dominated by pink. Neon bright, hot pink from head to tail. The best that Langue could comprehend was that the clothes tangoed between masculine and feminine - with the latter taking the lead. On his head, he had on a silk top hat with a boa feather protruding from the side. Underneath it, his eyelids were painted in metallic pink mascara (where the makeup came from, Langue had no idea). He had on a blouse with floral lace at the cuffs and the neckline. Over it was a vest that had a flowery pattern that was topped with a coat that would have belonged in the court of Louis XIV - complete with golden buttons on the cuffs and the helm that was left open.  “What do you think?” Blueblood asked. Langue, wide-eyed, looked up and down at him. “That… depends. How honest do you want me to be?” “You don’t like it?” “I never said that just… perplexed.” Blueblood frowned, “Because of my choice in color?” “That, and… where did you get mascara from?” “I have a small makeup kit - I don’t always use it but I keep it around just in case.” Langue didn’t say anything - even if he could respond, he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could put into words.  “What do you think I want to say with these clothes?” the prince asked. “.... That you… want to be a mare?” For a moment, he thought that Blueblood might roll his eyes, but instead, he got a laugh. “No, though I can see why you may think that. It’s me embracing a softer side of me.” “Effeminate?” Langue blinked, “Forgive my ignorance but I thought you preferred more on the masculine side of things.” “I never said I wasn’t. But what I want to convey with something like this is that I am not afraid of showing off a side that is decadent but elegant in its femininity.” “.... Veuillez m'excuser, (Please pardon me,) but I’m confused. You… don’t want to be a mare but at the same time… want to?” “Oh! I see where you’re confused.” He said, adjusting the bright pink vest. “I do indeed identify myself as a male who is attracted to stallions - there is no doubt about it. At the same time, however, there are some aspects about mares that I have admired.” “Such as?” “Their elegance, for one. Their time and dedication of taking hours each day to perfect their best qualities about themselves from their manes to the shape of their bodies, even their faces to be beautiful in their own way. Growing up around mares such as Celestia had on gowns that make themselves into walking works of art. Yes, the suits have their appeal for me, don’t get me wrong. But at the same time… there is something about how they dress that I find more expressive from every stitch, every curl, and every dab of makeup that could command an entire room.” Langue tilted his head, “It sounds like you considered cross-dressing before.” Blueblood looked around the shop to make sure no one was listening, “Full disclosure… I have tried it once when I was young. Merely out of curiosity when I was a colt to know what having a dress on would be like. And between you and me… I don’t know how mares do it without tripping at every step. Still, the more elaborate aspects had appealed to me ever since.” Circling around the prince in pink, Langue remarked, “If I’m being blunt, I’d say you look like a cross from a courtier from the Age of Enlightenment, and a drag queen.” Blueblood looked in a mirror and smiled. “Perhaps… I would put this on for special occasions. What that might be, I’m not sure. But at the same time, there are so many variations I could play with. More to experiment with to my heart’s content.” After a beat, he nodded, “I’m buying this too.” “Sérieusement? (Seriously?)” “Along with several others in various colors.” Blueblood reentered the dressing room, “Allow me to change, and then we’ll go ahead to the cash register to get these.” The prince closed the door behind him, leaving Langue out with his thoughts. Yes, this certainly was not what he expected of the prince. But on the other hoof… he should’ve somewhat had from the start. Then again, it has been made clear that this was something that Blueblood was withholding for a long time and has trusted him enough to show this side of him. Then again, as Langue reasoned with himself, the clothes themselves aren’t all that bad, if it weren’t for the color, he probably wouldn’t guess that the prince had an effeminate side. At the same time, however, if he didn’t know any better, he probably might have mistaken him for a mare. The kind he would’ve seduced back in Prance.