Exit Through Canterlot

by TheBrianJ

6. Cat and Mouse

Octavia dropped her duffel bag down on the ground, a multitude of cans clattering about within, and she stared up at the pristine white wall in front of her. She had contemplated spraying this very same wall during Chic Trend's show a few days ago, before Chic’s personal assistant had given her some valuable information. But in the days following, the wall remained a tantalizing tease to her. She hadn't intended to do anything, yet she couldn't stop thinking about—and Vinyl hadn't been very subtle in reminding her—how exhilarating it had been to simply go out and start painting.

She opened up her bag and grabbed the first can she could get her hoof around. Out of the corner of her eye, Octavia could see a bit of a crowd gathering behind her; she had come to expect that and paid them no mind. Instead, she just popped the top off of the can and began to spray. With no pattern in mind, she lost herself in her work as her hoof wandered back and forth along the wall.

After a few minutes passed, she took a few steps back to admire her work, and she smiled at the purple swirls that snaked around the wall. "Pretty," Octavia said to herself, then tossed the can into the duffel bag and dug through it for a new color. “Though not even close to complete."

She wrapped her hoof around a can of yellow paint and raised her head, but paused to look out at the crowd that had congregated around her. She had expected to see the reaction she had gotten previously: a mix of some shocked ponies and some who found her work interesting. But this time she was surprised to see the majority of ponies giving looks of curiosity. None of them seemed too off-put or offended by what she was doing, more just intrigued and waiting to see what she would do next. A bemused smile crossed Octavia's face as she looked at them, then she froze momentarily when she saw a pony in the far back of the crowd with a neon blue mane, a massive pair of purple sunglasses, and one of the widest smiles she had ever seen.

It was the first time that Vinyl had actually come out to watch her at work, and Octavia stared at her for a few moments. She thought back to the brief conversation they had had earlier in the day, just before she left the apartment. Specifically, one thing that Vinyl had said at the end of their talk.

"I’m telling you: the kind of adrenaline rush you got at that fashion show didn't just come from what you were doing. It came from why you were doing it."

Octavia's grip on the yellow can tightened and she nodded. The crowd didn't seem to notice, but in the back, Vinyl responded with a nod herself. Octavia turned back around and pressed down on the nozzle, making a long yellow swirl along the bottom of the wall. The minutes ticked by as she continued spraying, the world around her melting away as she became completely immersed in the colorful tapestry she was creating.

An hour later, the series of swirls and patterns covered the wall from side to side, as high as her hooves could reach. Octavia took a long, content breath, looking at her work; she couldn't remember the last time she had felt the level of satisfaction she was feeling at that moment. She tossed the can back into her bag and started to zip it up when she paused and looked back over the wall one last time.

"Hmmmm... Something’s missing..."

She opened the bag up again and pulled out a black can. She shook it and raised it up to the corner of the mural, when a voice from behind interrupted her.

"Well, well, well,” the voice mocked. “We finally meet face-to-face, Miss Flanksy."

Octavia froze. She closed her eyes, shaking her head and muttering under her breath, "Please, no. Not him. Anypony but him..."

Octavia lowered the can and turned around. When she opened her eyes, the sight before her immediately ruined her mood. Flanked on either side by his guards, Prince Blueblood stood, his head held high as he stared down at her with a cocksure smirk on his face. Far behind him, Vinyl's hoof was pressed into her face and her eyes were wide as Blueblood examined the wall, then looked back at Octavia.

"From what I can gather, while I have been in Mareami, you have been quite active," Blueblood said, stretching his neck out. "A Gala poster, Chic Trend's show, and now this..." He shook his head, turning to the side and taking a few steps away. "I was under the impression you were merely some angsty teenager looking to blow off some steam. But it appears that this is not the case." Blueblood whipped around and glared at Octavia. "You aren't going to be stopping this any time soon, are you?"

The frustration that Octavia had been feeling gave way to annoyance. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. Blueblood looked back up at the multicolor mural on the wall.

"I didn't appreciate those horrific, unflattering pictures of myself that you had strewn all about Canterlot. I am quite used to ponies not liking me," Blueblood continued. He eventually looked away from the wall and back down to Octavia, his eyes narrowing further as he leaned directly into her face. "But,” he growled, “what I am not used to is a pony blatantly disrespecting Canterlot this way."

An intense silence filled the air as Blueblood and Octavia stared at each other, both their brows furrowed in anger. Neither one said anything—Octavia not willing to budge an inch no matter how close Blueblood leaned into her. The crowd began to murmur, and in the far back, Vinyl stared in awe at the confrontation taking place.

Finally, Blueblood stepped back. "No matter what ponies think of me or my attitude, I have always acted in the best interest of Canterlot. I want you to keep that in mind, Flanksy," he said, turning away.

With a nod of his head, Blueblood walked back through the crowd, his guards right behind him. Only when he was out of sight did Octavia realize just how hard her teeth were clenched. She closed her eyes and took a long breath to calm herself down, then looked back at the mural behind her. With frustration still radiating off of her, she grasped the black can in her hoof once again and shook it violently, then popped the top off and sprayed three words on top of her mural: "THIS IS REAL" Finishing by punctuating the corner of the mural with a large black "F," Octavia jammed the black can back into her bag and stormed off.

"I despise that stallion. I really, really do."

Octavia was grumbling to herself as she and Vinyl walked through Canterlot back towards their apartment. Vinyl was floating a large shopping bag between them, overflowing with cloth and accessories—and Octavia's Flanksy gear hidden at the bottom. Octavia glanced backward, as if expecting Blueblood to be there again, but all that was there were the streets of Canterlot, with a few ponies heading in the other direction, no doubt having heard that Flanksy had tagged another wall. She turned back towards the road, continuing to speak.

"I cannot believe he would say those things. 'Acting in the best interest of Canterlot?' That's his rationale? This is just anger over being embarrassed, nothing more!"

"Yeah, that's typical Prince Dipstick for you," Vinyl said with a roll of her eyes. "Should have expected this, though. Blueblood wasn't about to just let something like that go, even after his vacation."

"It doesn't matter how expected it was, Vinyl,” Octavia said. “He is so damned full of himself, yet acts as if what he's doing has some greater goal? He really is the most shameful pony in all of Canterlot."

The two continued walking, Octavia not speaking but clearly still frustrated over the whole incident. Vinyl remained quiet, trying to put her hoof on a thought that seemed just out of reach. When they finally returned to the apartment, Octavia immediately grabbed a sketch pad and sat down on the couch.

Vinyl sat next to her, staying quiet for a few more moments before speaking. "Was it just me, or did Blueblood seem, well, different?"

Octavia blinked, looking up from the sketch pad. "What do you mean?"

"I can't exactly put my hoof on it. He just looked more, I dunno, determined? He was still a total jerk, but usually he’s just a jerk for no reason. But this time he actually seemed to have something on his mind, like an actual cause for once."

Octavia leaned back on the couch, staring at the sketch pad and contemplating the statement. She thought back to just half an hour ago, when she and Blueblood had literally been nose-to-nose, attempting to stare down the other. Blueblood had been the one to break away from the face-off first, but he had gotten the last word in, and now that Octavia thought about it, it really did stand out.

"No matter what ponies think of me or my attitude, I am going to be acting in the best interest of Canterlot."

The sentence bounced around in Octavia's head. Something was definitely different about it, but it wasn't what he had said—it was just standard Blueblood hubris—it was the way he had said it. The more Octavia thought about it, the more she realized that he had said the sentence without his usual swagger or arrogance. Instead, it had actually felt sincere, something that was quite a rarity from Blueblood.

"I suppose you’re right. He certainly did seem more determined than usual…" Octavia mulled, staring out the window. "But it hardly matters; Blueblood is still Blueblood. I don't plan on changing anything I'm going to do just because he's more sincere about being a jerk."

Vinyl tilted her head as Octavia went back to the sketch pad. "Changing anything?" she said, and then smiled. "Oooooh... Do you think Blueblood is gonna try and do something about it?"

Octavia could only respond with a laugh. "Vinyl, I have lived in Canterlot my whole life, and have become familiar with how Blueblood ‘works,’ if you can even call it that. Blueblood has always spoken very big, but he has rarely ever acted on his words.  I know exactly how this is going to play out: as soon as he is confronted again, he will give the same speech that he did today. He will go on and on about wanting to ‘defend Canterlot,’ pretending that is his justification for acting like a complete jerk. Then, when the cards are down and ponies are watching him, he'll have some dramatic line about not wanting to get his hooves dirty and he'll walk off, his head held high. That's it: he won't actually lift a hoof to do anything."

She turned back to her sketch pad, and Vinyl sat down next to her. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't remember the last time Blueblood actually did anything in Canterlot. He mostly just walks around looking down on everypony around him."

"Precisely! He's only ever concerned with himself," Octavia said. Her hoof came to a halt over the sketch pad, and she smiled. "Well, if he's so in love with his own visage, let's see how he'll like what I do to it tomorrow."

Early the next morning, Prince Blueblood's royal guards stood outside the door to his bedroom, waiting stoically for the prince to wake up. They had gotten used to the prince being a pony of strict habit, and were patiently waiting the final half-hour before the prince would emerge from the room to go on his morning stroll through Canterlot. The sound of the door unlocking early startled all four of the guards, and Blueblood opened it, his head held high as he stepped out.

"Good morning, gentlecolts. Come inside. We have to talk."

Blueblood stepped back into the room, leaving the guards to glance in confusion at each other before following the order. They stood on one side of a table as Blueblood walked around it, sipping from a cup of coffee floating in front of him.

"I don't believe it is too much of a stretch to assume that Flanksy will be active today in some way. I'd also say it's very likely that I am her target, given my return to Canterlot. Wouldn’t you all agree?"

The guards nodded in agreement. Blueblood stood up and went over to the window, glancing out at the cityscape before him. He took another long sip of the coffee before the mug floated behind him and hovered a few inches above the table, his eyes never leaving the window. "I'm quite used to being disrespected and insulted, gentlecolts. I have a thick coat and I can take it better than any pony in Canterlot. I can tolerate being the butt of jokes quite often..."

Blueblood quieted himself, shaking his head. He whirled around to stare at the guards, fury in his eyes, and the coffee cup slammed down on the table, causing even the stoic guards to jump in surprise.

"But what I cannot tolerate,” he bellowed, “is what this miserable excuse for an artist is doing to Canterlot! As far as I am concerned, Flanksy's acts are as much of an attack on this city as any invasion that Canterlot has fought off in the past. I am not going to stand by and let this happen!"

Blueblood snorted in anger, then sat down behind the table. The guards again looked at each other before one of them stepped forward.

"Well, sir, what would you like us to do?" the guard asked.

"I want you to patrol Canterlot today; be on the lookout for Flanksy. If she does appear, she will likely be surrounded by a significant crowd, so investigate any groups of ponies. If you do find Flanksy, I want you to alert me immediately. If she is going to make a statement, I will be making a statement right back at her."

The first guard spoke while the three guards in back nodded their heads. "Yes, sir! I presume that if you're busy at the spa or the market, we should interrupt, or—"

Blueblood silenced the guard with a shake of his head. "I already cancelled my schedule for the day. In fact, I will be out patrolling Canterlot as well. If you find her, send me a signal."

They looked amongst themselves with shocked eyes, each with the same thing on their mind but unsure of how to articulate it. Finally, one guard broke the silence.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Blueblood sipped his coffee, nodding. "Go ahead, Ambrose."

"At the risk of sounding rude... are you feeling alright?"

With a raise of one eyebrow, Blueblood set the coffee down. "What kind of question is that?"

"Well, I haven't seen you acting this dedicated in quite some time. I can't remember the last time you asked us to do anything of this nature, much less participated in a patrol yourself. It just seems strange to me is all. Did something happen in Mareami?"

Blueblood set the coffee down, staring straight ahead before standing up and beckoning the guards over to the window. They joined him, staring out at Canterlot.

"Not a single thing happened in Mareami. It was, without a doubt, the most uneventful vacation I've ever had in my life. That is precisely why I am acting like this."

"I don't follow, sir."

Blueblood sighed. "I didn't expect you to. You don't need to worry yourself about why. All you need to know is that right now I have a goal, and I am going to be pursuing it. Do any of you know what that feels like? Can any of you comprehend the kind of rush you get when you have such a clear objective? Do any of you know what it's like to..."

The prince's diatribe decayed to silence as he looked out the window. He let out an angry sigh, then turned back towards the guards. His head was tilted down, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth curled into a half-frown.

"...to be driven?"

The guards stared at Blueblood in awe. Blueblood trotted past them, towards the door.

"Now then, patrol will begin in fifteen minutes. But before that, I want you all to come with me. There is something we need to prepare beforehand, for when we run into Miss Flanksy."

The sound of ponies murmuring had become commonplace to Octavia whenever she was in disguise. After just a few public appearances, she noticed that ponies seemed more and more interested in her and her work. Even as she trotted down the street, she could hear ponies whispering to each other behind her as she wandered Canterlot. When she had gone out in disguise previously, her face mask had hidden an excited smile on her face. After the confrontation she had had with Prince Blueblood the day before, however, the smile was absent from her face, replaced with a purposeful frown.

When she eventually found a large empty wall, Octavia stood in front of it, just staring and contemplating as ponies gathered behind her. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a newspaper clipping, smiling as she taped it to the wall for reference. A few of the ponies looking over her shoulder  gasped at seeing the picture of Prince Blueblood, but Octavia just smiled, grasping the first can of paint she got her hoof on.

"So, you don't like being embarrassed?" she quietly murmured to herself, looking at the clipping. "Then I doubt you'll like this."

With her eyes shifting back and forth between the wall and the picture, Octavia got to work painting a simulacra of Blueblood's face as large as she could reach. As the details of his face became more and more pronounced, Octavia's frustration melted away, and her frown was replaced with a smile. She was impressed with her own work as she compared her painting to the photograph of Blueblood, a bit amazed that she had been able to create his likeness so well. She thought that if she had merely been there to create a picture of Blueblood, she would have been extremely proud already. With a chuckle, she tossed the black can back and rummaged through her bag.

She had just taken out a red can when she looked up and noticed a royal guard in the distance. Their eyes locked for a few seconds before the guard turned and trotted out of sight. Octavia just shrugged, turned back to her art, and started spraying it with red. A few minutes went by as Octavia added to what she had drawn with horns and glowing red eyes. She had just reached into her bag to retrieve a green can when she saw a hoof come to a stop next to her.

"Hello again, Flanksy."

Octavia paused, gritting her teeth as she recognized the voice. She slowly turned her head up to look at Prince Blueblood as he stared down at her. He turned up to the wall, a cocky smile on his face.

"I figured you'd do something like this,” he said. “You don't strike me as the kind of pony who would ignore a confrontation like we had."

With a sneer now hidden behind her mask, Octavia stood up and glared back at him. The anger he showed yesterday was gone, instead replaced with an unwavering smirk. 

He took a step back and waved. "Oh please, by all means, continue! You have a statement to make with your 'art,' don't you, Flanksy? I'm not about to intrude on that. Continue! You can't just leave a crowd waiting! "

Blueblood took a few more steps back and joined the crowd, patiently watching to see what she would do next. Her glare stayed on him for a few more moments before she cautiously turned back to the wall and resumed painting. Every few seconds she would glance back at Blueblood, who was standing still in front of the crowd, staring at her, but occasionally looking behind himself, as if waiting for something. Although she tried to return her attention to her artwork, the presence of Blueblood rattled her focus.

Minutes ticked by as the picture became more and more elaborate. Any time Octavia looked back with a cautious glance, Blueblood's smug face would drive her further into frustration. She just kept painting, and soon enough the drawing of Blueblood's face was nigh-on unrecognizable underneath all the additions she had drawn on, to the point where it didn't resemble a pony so much as it did some kind of horrible demon set loose from Tartarus.

Octavia looked back at the crowd. The reactions she was getting were pretty mixed–half the ponies were in some state of disbelief while half were smiling and chuckling. It was Prince Blueblood's face that stood out to Octavia, however: his pompous grin had finally been broken, now twisted into an expression of absolute repulsion. His reaction alone was enough to make Octavia smile. She went back to her bag, looking for a can of black paint. Before she could get her hoof around it a voice pierced the air again.

"Ah, perfect timing!" Prince Blueblood yelled, stepping to the side. "I was wondering where you all were."

A loud shuffling of hooves made Octavia loosen her grip on the can and she turned to look at the commotion. The crowd had separated and four royal guards pushed through them, carrying a long trough across their backs. They dropped the trough and Blueblood walked up next to it, a smile slowly returning to his face and with a nod his guards went their separate ways. Octavia, frozen by curiosity, simply stared as Blueblood cracked his neck,and his horn glowed a bright gold. Like a slithering serpent, water floated up from the trough and coiled itself into a large ball. Blueblood turned towards the wall, then crouched down, aiming his horn at the large picture.

The realization of what was about to happen hit Octavia like a runaway train. Before she could move, a pulse of light shot out of Blueblood's horn, and the floating ball of water launched forward, slamming into the wall and splashing water everywhere.

Octavia ducked down out of instinct as she was hit with a few splashes. As she opened her eyes, she was almost terrified to look up at the wall. Part of her brain assured her that everything was fine, but as she looked over at Blueblood, she saw an extremely satisfied smile on his face, momentarily numbing her senses. Slowly, she turned back to look at the wall, now soaked with water. The still-wet paint ran together into a brown and red blob, which slid down the wall and stained the ground below it. Octavia stared, a feeling of helplessness the likes of which she hadn't felt since the Gala washing over her.

It was gone. Her work was gone.

She fell onto her back haunches, unable to tear her eyes away from the ugly mess that had been her art only moments ago. Behind her, Blueblood huffed in satisfaction.

"I am acting in the best interest of Canterlot,” he loudly proclaimed. “A large, unflattering picture of myself is hardly going to help Canterlot in any way. Some ponies told me that there is no law against painting on walls. That is true, but there is also no law against washing said walls clean of the filth painted on them.” He turned his attention back to Octavia. “If you plan on insulting me with your so-called ‘art’ again, I will be more than happy to repeat the process. Am I making myself clear?" he said, finishing with a chortling snort.

Octavia barely heard him; her ears were ringing, her face was burning hot, and her hooves were trembling. The only thing she was able to grasp was the cruel snort at the end of his speech; it pierced through her confusion, and she saw red. Her head whipped around to face the prince, and she saw his expression suddenly turn from smug to worried. Without thinking, she advanced on him, hunched down in anger.

Blueblood waved his hoof forward, shaking his head. "Stay back, you!" he shouted. "If you get any closer, I will not hesitate to have you arrested! I have that authority, you know!"

His words did nothing to deter her. Although she knew that there was nothing she could do, she didn't care. She stepped forward until she was nose-to-nose with him, just like the day before. This time, however, Blueblood was absolutely terrified. He glanced back and forth at the crowd, who were all staring at the confrontation in awe, while the royal guards were all looking in uncertainty, waiting for his command. He looked back into the angry eyes of Flanksy and let out a long sigh, realizing that his bluff had been called. He stepped backward and turned away.

"No, I'm not going to arrest you," he said, trying to keep his tone as regal and authoritative as possible. "Quite frankly, it wouldn't accomplish anything. I just wanted you to know that whatever you create, I have the power to remove. Any insult that you throw at me, I will not hesitate to destroy. I refuse to allow you to make a fool out of me. Just remember that, Flanksy... remember that I will be watching."

Vinyl Scratch stood next to the couch, pressing her lips together to keep her mouth shut as best as she could. She stared across the room, half fascinated and half scared, watching as Octavia back and forth, her eyes burning with rage.

"That bastard! That stuck-up, full-of-himself, ignorant rat bastard!!" Octavia tore her coat off and hurled it into the closet where it landed on top of her duffel bag. "He is nothing less than the absolute lowest rung of civilization! He has the nerve to claim he acts in Canterlot's best interest, then destroys my art simply because he found it insulting? He is the most disgusting pony in Canterlot… no, in Equestria! One day that miserable stallion is going to get everything that he has coming, and then some!”

She stopped talking and slowed her pacing down a bit. Vinyl took a deep breath and put on her best smile. "Feeling better?"

Octavia slumped onto the couch. "A little. I still hate that pony."

"I don't blame you, Tavi. Sounds like what he did was totally awful. You have every right to hate him, and every right to vent about it," Vinyl said, and then down next to Octavia, looking around. "I'm glad our walls are thick…"

"I just hate it!” Octavia yelled. “I hate that he walks around as if he is the most important pony in all of Equestria. I hate that stupid, smug grin on his face. I hate how he looks down on every pony he comes in contact with. Whether or not he actually believes he is protecting Canterlot, the point is what he did was horrible!" Octavia sat back, staring upwards. After a few seconds her angry eyes softened and her head slumped downwards. As her lip began to quiver, Vinyl scooted forward and patted her on the back.

"It’s alright, Tavi. I know you’re frustrated.”

"Vinyl… I've never had my work destroyed like that. Chic Trend covered my art for her show. The Gala was simply ignorance. But this? Blueblood purposefully destroyed what I created. It… it hurts, Vinyl. It hurts."

"I can imagine," Vinyl responded. "But don't let it discourage you. Don't just let him win, don't stop–"

"Stop?" Octavia interrupted. "I'm not stopping. I refuse to let that prince win. Things are not over between he and I; I can assure you of that. I am going to continue my art, and if he decides that he wants to step in again…" Octavia went quiet and shook her head. "Well, we'll answer that when we come to it, I suppose."

"Glad to hear it," Vinyl responded. Octavia looked over at her supplies barely sticking out of the closet, and thought back to her face-to-face confrontation with Blueblood not a half hour earlier. She sighed in frustration.

"I won't forgive him for what he did," she quietly said. "Blueblood can hide it all he wants, but I know he doesn't care about Canterlot. He just wants to protect his own smug face."

Prince Blueblood stood before the massive doors in front of him, towering almost to the ceiling. No matter how many times he had entered the room, the doors always intimidated him. His hoof had hovered in front of them for almost a minute before he closed his eyes and finally knocked.

"Come in," a voice rang from inside.

With bated breath, Blueblood opened the door and stepped into the massive castle lounge. He had been here countless times, but the sheer grandeur of it always left him slightly awestruck. The walls were lined with hundreds of books, with more piled on small tables in the far side of the room which were surrounded by couches and elegant, stylish chairs. The entire far wall was one giant window, with a small door leading to a balcony overlooking all of Canterlot. After taking a few seconds to marvel at the room, Blueblood looked across the way and saw Princess Celestia sitting in one of the chairs. A scroll was floating in front of her, and she was carefully writing on it with a long orange quill. Blueblood stepped forward and Celestia momentarily looked up from her scroll, a smile on her face.

"Good morning, Blueblood," she said, nodding. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, auntie, I wanted to speak with you about a most urgent matter," Blueblood responded, stepping a few feet away from Celestia. She looked back to the scroll, signing her name at the bottom.

"I can only assume this has to do with Flanksy?"

Blueblood sighed, nodding his head. "I presume you're already familiar with the situation."

"Blueblood, when somepony out there calls you ignorant, you do tend to monitor the situation," Celestia said. "Not to mention I've heard of your recent exploits from the guards. Now then, what did you want to ask about?"

"I wanted to know what authority I have over her."

Celestia blinked, tilting her head. "Roughly the same amount of authority that, as a prince, you have over any other Canterlot citizen."

"What?!" Blueblood's eyes widened, and he stepped closer to his aunt. "That's it? Even after all she has done?"

"'All she has done?' Blueblood, I understand that you aren't a fan of what she has been doing, but there is such a thing as freedom of expression here in Canterlot and I'm not about to overturn those rights."

"But auntie, there is freedom of expression, and then there are outright attacks!" Blueblood said, his voice raising. "Are you telling me that you really have no problem with being called ignorant?"

There was a long pause. Celestia slowly put the scroll down, then stood up and walked to the window. Blueblood walked next to her and he followed her eyesight down towards Canterlot. In the distance, he could see the statue of Celestia, easily identifiable by its green color which stood out amongst the surrounding area. Celestia sighed.

"Blueblood, do you not think I find it upsetting that somepony in Canterlot finds me ‘ignorant?’ There is somepony out there who abhors me, who sees me not as a ruler but as an oppressor. A pony so passionate about their hatred that they not only stand up to authority, but transcend mere vandalism in a way I have never seen in all my years of rule. I assure you, Blueblood, I am not 'okay' with this." Celestia paused. "But that said, this pony is a citizen of Canterlot nonetheless; she has a right to the freedom of speech and expression. I will not impede that right simply because somepony holds a grudge against me."

"This isn't about you, auntie," Blueblood interrupted. Celestia rolled her eyes.

"Don't you think that making this all about yourself is rather selfish, Blu—"

"It is not about me either, it's about Canterlot!"

Celestia went quiet, looking at Blueblood in surprise at the outburst. Blueblood shook his head in anger. "FIanksy doesn't hate you, nor does she hate me: it is the city itself that she despises, and I cannot accept that. I understand that I am not the most likable pony in Equestria; I understand the rights of every citizen. What I do not understand is the blatant disrespect and hate Flanksy feels that taints the very image of Canterlot!"

Blueblood looked out the window, surveying the city as his eyes narrowed into a determined gaze, and he spoke again. "I've spent my whole life living in Canterlot. I was born here; I went to school here; I became a prince here… Canterlot is my life. I love this city more than anything in Equestria." He paused, taking in the sight of the royal city. "My vacation in Mareami was miserable, auntie. It was miserable because all I could think about was getting back to Canterlot, the city that I truly love. To see a pony treating this city with such blatant disrespect? I won't stand for it."

Blueblood shook his head.  "Do you believe for one minute that she actually cares about Canterlot? That she's actually thought about your feelings, or my feelings? Or better yet, how about the feelings of Chic Trend, whose show she decided to invade? What about Marble Chisel, who had the most important statue she had ever carved ruined for the sake of making some sort of statement? Flanksy is not thinking about feelings. Flanksy just hates Canterlot, and I am not going to stand for it one moment longer!" He turned to Celestia, speaking quietly. "When was the last time I came to you for help, auntie? When was the last time you saw me care so deeply about or be so committed to something? I am not here to ask you if I can do something about this. I am here to tell you I will be doing something about this, and to ask how far I can go."

Celestia was silent, staring at Blueblood. She slowly looked back out at Canterlot, staying quiet while she contemplated what he had said. Finally, she spoke.

"Obviously, physicality is out of the question. You may not make an arrest unless an official royal order is issued by me. I would tell you to act in a way that doesn't endanger anypony in Canterlot, but I believe you already have that in mind. As far as her art goes, I would prefer that you not make judgement on taking any of her art down without public opinion. There are many ponies out there who are enjoying her work, after all.”

Blueblood suppressed the urge to grit his teeth and nodded. "I understand."

"In addition,” Celestia continued, “You will respect her right to privacy. Simply put, I do not want you to try to reveal her true identity. Anything else, however, I leave to your discretion.”

Blueblood bowed his head deeply. "Thank you, Celestia."

With that, Blueblood turned and trotted out the door, his head held high and a confident smile on his face. Celestia resumed her position at the table and picked up another scroll. A quill hovered next to her and she signed her name, but her eyes wandered over to the window again. She gazed out over Canterlot, the quill and scroll slowly lowering back down to the table as she stood up to get a better view. She looked over the majestic cityscape, but she kept falling back on one image: her green statue in the far distance. She closed her eyes and exhaled a defeated sigh, her head lowering a bit as she turned away.

"What could I possibly have done…?"