//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 - The Ball // Story: Pinkie and Bluie // by Talon and Thorn //------------------------------// There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her. So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them? Because she was there when he needed her the most.   Because she made him happy   Because she was fun to be with.     After his return to Canterlot Blueblood spent a few days going through his duties on autopilot. His trip to Ponyville had not helped his condition at all if anything it had gotten worse, Pinkie seemed to be all that he could think about. He’d spent two hours in a meeting with Archduke Fisher, one of the few members of the Night Court still present in Canterlot, apparently discussing trade between their provinces but he didn’t remember a word of it. All he came out with was a notebook full of scribbles of her, some in pornographic detail, luckily his assistant had been paying more attention.   The situation became worse when a horrible thought struck him as he prepared for bed a day later, he hadn’t managed to break up with Pinkie but had she broken up with him? She had sort of kicked him out of her bed after they’d slept together, had she really just wanted to play hide and seek, it seemed unlikely, until you took into account the fact she was Pinkie Pie. If he’d done the same, as he had in the past, he would have thought that this would be the end, but she wasn’t him, she was better than that, wasn’t she? She hadn’t said anything about meeting again, had she just gotten what she wanted and brushed him aside? He felt dirty, used, sick, he didn’t get much sleep that night.   Come the next morning Blueblood decided he had to do something to see if he had been used or not, he checked his social diary. There was a small charity ball being hosted by Fancy Pants over the weekend. Normally he would have put in a desultory appearance and then left, there was nothing for him there, particularly given the current state of the court, but it would be the perfect way to see if Pinkie was still interested in him. He telegraphed her an invitation right away. His internal voice screamed that this was madness, he wanted to leave her and inviting her to a party was not how to do that, he should not be seen in public with her. He was getting tired of that voice and wished it would go and scream at someone else for a change.   He spent the rest of the day pacing anxiously around his apartments, alternating between wishing she would reply and wishing she wouldn’t. When a servant arrived that evening with a telegraph he snatched the paper from her hoof. It was almost laughable that such a small piece of paper could almost bring him to his knees, he downed a shot of vodka to steady his nerves before reading it.   ‘Dear Bluie. I love to Party. Will arrive 6pm Saturday. Lots of love and kisses and balloons, Pinkie.’   He stared at it for a while, it didn’t sound like her, apart from the balloons. Then he realised that the telegraph charged by the letter, he guessed a friend, maybe one of the Cakes, had edited her message to stop it bankrupting her.   He felt warm satisfaction for a moment, then it hit him, he’d invited Pinkie Pie to a formal ball, in public. He downed a second Vodka, the voice had been right, this was going to be a disaster.     Blueblood decided to meet Pinkie in person at the station. Originally he was going to wait for her to arrive at his apartments but he found himself impatiently pacing the floor watching the clock and decided he needed to burn off some energy walking to her instead.   Her train arrived on time and he searched through the crowd of tourists for a flash of pink. There she was, still wearing his saddlebags, he felt a surge of pride, and nattering to one of her fellow passengers who looked like she was desperately wishing for Pinkie to take a breath so she could make her excuses and leave.   “Miss Pie!” he called as he trotted over to her.   “Bluie!” she squealed abandoning her previous companion and rushing across the station towards him, she barged past several ponies and leapt clear over one stallion before enfolding Blueblood in a hug and kissing his cheek. He glowed and not entirely in embarrassment, she still liked him.   “How was your trip?” he asked once he’d managed to get untangled.   “It was fun, I played I spy but no-one else seemed interested so I played it against myself, guess what? I won. Oh, oh,” she exclaimed as she reached back into her bags and pulled out a small carton of berries, “Look pinkberries, I asked Carrot Top and they are a thing, you make lemonade out of them, which is odd because you’d think they’d use lemons.” she searched through the bags again, “and I remembered the syrup.” she held up a jar of the gooey fluid, it had a large crack in it and was leaking. “That’s not good.” she scrambled in the bag again to reveal the same party dress she had worn to the Gala last week, its folds were matted with the sugary mess. “Oh, Rarity’s going to do that eye twitch thing when she sees this.”   “Do you have anything else to wear?”   “I’ve got another dress but that was for a special time with you,” she opened the other bag and Blueblood got a glimpse of a ruffle skirt and stockings, “You were going to be a tough cowpony from the mild west and I was going to be an innocent dancing girl, I got toy pies and everything. Still I suppose I could go to the party in it.”   The idea seemed attractive to certain parts of Blueblood but he pushed the thought aside, “I don’t think that would be appropriate, Pinkie, maybe we could just not go to the party.” That would solve his problems, they could just spend the weekend together out of the public eye.   She looked shocked, “You can’t not go to a party that would be like heresy or something. I can just go au natural.”   There was a good chance that since Luna had turned up at the Gala naked future fashion trends might go towards minimal or no clothing at social events, thought Blueblood, but it was still early days for that. Anyway he felt like impressing his date with his power and wealth, “You don’t need to do that, we can go shopping.”   “Won’t everything be closed by now?”   “This is not your provincial Ponyville, Miss Pie, this is Canterlot, here everything is open all night.” He took her hoof and led her from the station.     The shop that Blueblood took Pinkie to was called the Clothes Horse, it was a compromise in his mind. He was sure he could have brought her to as low class a shop as he could imagine and she would be happy, and probably look stunning in whatever she chose. However, that didn’t seem right, he told himself that it would cause a scandal if anyone seen on his arm was wearing something... common. However, he didn’t think he could bring himself to take her to the highest class of establishment, even with his influence dresses from those would take weeks to be fitted and ordered, not the hour or so they had. So the Clothes Horse was a compromise, it was fashionable enough to hold acceptable outfits but as an up and coming venture still held off the rack clothes and his power would be enough to influence the owner so he could keep stories of any Pinkieish behaviour quiet.     He left Pinkie to examine some of the clothes, while he talked to the manager, a short brown unicorn stallion, his eyes covered by huge glasses.   “You see my companion over there?” said Blueblood pointing to Pinkie who seemed to be sniffing at a number of hats as if wondering how they would taste.   “Ah, yes sir your ‘companion’” replied the manager raising his eyebrows at the term suggestively. Blueblood decided that because of that he wouldn’t be getting a tip.   “Do you have anything in the shop as beautiful as she is?”   The shop pony weighed up his options for a second, before responding, “No, your grace, however, we do have many things with which to highlight her beauty.”   Blueblood grinned, ‘He might have just gotten his tip back’ he thought. “I think you should get the whole of your staff to see to her needs. Anything she asks for, she gets.”   “Of course my lord.”   “Good, I’m going to be spending an obscene amount of money here.”   The manager looked overjoyed, “Oh, sir, you’re in the right store in the right city for that. Before we start can I ask, exactly how obscene are we talking about?”   Blueblood leaned in closer to the store keeper, “Punching Luna in the face level offensive.” ‘Did I just say that?’ he asked himself, ‘I think Pinkie might be rubbing off on me.’   After a short discussion with the manager the store mares formed a small gaggle around Pinkie and started to communicate in short squeals before rushing off the gather various  items of clothing.   Blueblood was set up in a plush chair and given a glass of a, rather excellent, fruit punch while Pinkie paraded in front of him in a variety of outfits to allow him to give his approval.   They ended up buying most of them, although the dress that she decided on for tonight was surprisingly low key for her. It consisted of a tight blue upper layer which clung to her flanks followed by a more expansive white skirt, several pink bows held the ensemble together. Blueblood couldn’t help but notice she was wearing his houses colours.     The only part missing from the outfit was a hat which Pinkie was apparently having difficulty choosing. She noticed one of the shop mares was wearing a blue pillbox, “Oh, do you have one like that?” she asked.   “Give her your hat,” hissed the manger to the assistant. “She wants to give you the hat,” he assured his customer.   Pinkie examined the hat from all sides, then to the astonishment of the staff punched her hoof through it before plopping it on her head and feeding her mane through it, the curly pink locks spread out forming a palm tree of hair. A large broach in the shape of an ice cream cone attached to the side of the hat completed the look.   Blueblood wrote out a large check and handed it to the manager, “I think you’ll find this will cover it all.”   The manager looked at the cheque, then gave a double take, “Thank you sir, this truly is an offensive amount.”   Blueblood’s grin threatened to tear his face apart, “I know.”   The couple left the shop their saddlebags full of clothes, giggling like school foals.     By the time they had arrived at Fancy Pants’s residence, a few hours later, Blueblood’s good cheer had evaporated, to be replaced by a block of ice in his guts. This was going to be a disaster, he thought, it’ll be the end of my social standing and if it is possible for somepony to actually die of embarrassment, my life.     The party was a fairly small affair, as these things went, no more than a hundred guests, it was to drum up support for one of Fancy Pants’s pet charities, starving zebra foals or something like that. The couple were met at the door by a herald, a young unicorn stallion, who asked how they should be announced. Before Blueblood could come up with a reasonable answer Pinkie whispered into the servant ear. The herald raised an eyebrow and the pink pony nodded manically.   “Announcing the arrival of Viscount Prince Blueblood and his companion, Pinkamena Diane Pie, third best baker in Ponyville, bringer of happiness, destroyer of frowns.”   Blueblood’s coat fairly glowed red as dozens of pairs of eyes turned towards the new arrivals, yes he could definitely die of embarrassment, he could feel himself slipping now. Then the tension was broken as the hosts wife, Fleur de Lyse, snorted and broke into a fit of giggles, “That’s funny,” she gasped. After a moment polite laughter started to spread around the room. Pinkie smiled in pride and started to bounce forward into the room pulling Blueblood along behind her. Pinkie looked at Blueblood and then stopped, “Way that too much?” she asked, “I just wanted to break the ice.” “It was a little, unusual,” he said, but quickly added, “It certainly got the parties attention.” Within the hall they were met by the host and his wife who was still recovering from her earlier outburst while a crowd of other ponies positioned themselves, coincidentally, just within hearing range. “I’m glad you could make it Viscount Blueblood,” said Fancy Pants, “and with such a charming companion as well, please to make your acquaintance Ms Pie.” he bowed.   Pinkie began to open her mouth, this was it, thought Blueblood, she’s going to start to sing, or talk about what words are funny or something like that and everybody will be laughing at her not with her, “Please to meet you Mr Pants,” said Pinkie, Blueblood blinked surprised.   Was this really Pinkie, thought Blueblood as she started to ask Fancy Pants about whatever charity this event was for. He concentrated and ran a magic scan over her, he could feel the general background hum of earth pony magic, maybe a bit higher than average but she did not appear to be enchanted or affected by an illusion, why was she acting so un-Pinkie like, it was unsettling.   “What do you think Blueblood?” asked Fancy Pants, shaking him out of his daze.   His years of experience of polite conversation saved him as he realised he was being talked to “Oh, I agree.” he ventured, hoping that was a reasonable answer to whatever he was being asked.   “Splendid, why don’t you ladies go and start on the drinks. Blueblood and I will be with you in a minute.”   Fleur put an arm around Pinkie and began to steer her towards the drinks table, “So you’re, from Ponyville? My husband has expressed some interest in a young musician from there, maybe you’ve heard of her?”   Once the mares had left Fancy turned to Blueblood, “A rather daring choice in companion tonight isn’t she. She’s from that town that Luna’s focusing on, some might say that you were using her to garner support, that would be in rather poor taste.“   “What! No, that didn’t even cross my mind,” stuttered the younger stallion, “I met her at the Gala, we hit it off and I invited her here.”   “So just another gorgeous bedmate, eh? You always have the best taste.” said Fancy Pants dismissively.   Surprising himself, Blueblood found the comment rather offensive “Pinkie is more than that to me, she’s a good mare.”   Somewhat taken aback by the ferocity of Blueblood’s reply Fancy stepped back and stared into the Viscounts face, “You really do feel something for her don’t you? Very well, I apologize. I’ll have to keep an eye on the both of you, maybe I should even mention your new relationship to Luna when I next see her.” The comment hovered in the air like a threat, “Now shall we join the ladies for drinks? I have a new bartender you know, do tell me what you think of some of her cocktails.”   The first half of the night went well, Pinkie continued to act uncharacteristically restrained although brief flashes of her normal personality would occasionally breakthrough in the form of jokes and expansive gestures to illustrate stories. As Fancy Pants had predicted many of the guests wanted to hear about the events that had occurred in Ponyville. Given the normal intrigues of the Night Court were currently curtailed the gossip mill had picked up on that event as a safe topic of conversation.   After being asked about the curse that had affected the town for the twentieth time Pinkie seemed to grow tired and began to tug Blueblood towards the dance floor where a small orchestra was currently playing a slow waltz.   Blueblood gave a deep bow to his partner and she moved into his grasp. For a second he was worried she didn’t know the dance but then they started to move together, she was somewhat hesitant but she certainly knew the steps. His greater experience compensated and soon the two of them were moving gracefully around the floor.   “I di-didn’t expect you to be know how to..” he stuttered.   “How to dance? How to behave at a posh party?” she grinned even wider than normal and wiggled her covered flanks at her companion. “My special talent is parties silly, all types of parties, sure I prefer parties with singing and games and cake and stuff but that’s not all I know. Besides when you invited me I talked to Rarity about how you asked me out and how to act at a formal ball, sure her eye got all twitchy and she had to go out back and shout a lot of very unladylike things for a while, she does that a lot when I visit, but after that she helped me a lot.” She looked away, “You invited me here, brought me those pretty dresses, I didn’t want to embarrass you.”   “You could never embarrass me.”   “Really. Even if I asked the band to play the Pokey Pony or got all the guests to play pin the tail on the pony?”   “Alright, you could very much embarrass me but if you didn’t you wouldn’t be you and it’s you I like. Not that I want you to do any of these things,” he backpedalled quickly.   “Alright, I won’t, tonight. Let’s just keep dancing for a while.”   He leaned in closer and put his head on her shoulder, then behind her he saw a blond maned, aquamarine coated unicorn and cursed to himself, it was Prench Hotel. She was one of the nouveau riche, her father had set up a chain of successful hotels, she herself didn’t do anything but stalk suitors who Daddy didn’t approve of. Her father was rich enough that no-pony wanted to make an enemy of but not influential enough for anyone but the lower nobility to want to marry his brat. She’d obsessed over Duke Greengrass a year or so ago but recently had moved on to Blueblood himself. Before Trixie had proposed her plan for the Gala Prench had been one of his possible escorts for the evening. She had not taken the news her services would not be needed well.   The Blond unicorn stomped across the dance floor only just avoiding the other couples. She grasped Pinkie with her aura and deftly pushed her aside positioning herself in front of Blueblood while her rival went spinning off, “Get your hooves off my stallion,” she hissed.   “Prench!” exclaimed Blueblood.   “Don’t worry darling,” she replied calmingly, “I’m here now, you can forget all about that little pink strumpet.” She tried to wrap her hooves around Blueblood but he struggled out of her grasp.   “Unhoof me, there was never anything between us Prench.”   “You were going to take me to the Gala, I was going to meet Luna. Then she stole you.” She pointed to Pinkie who was getting to her hooves.   “She didn’t steal me Prench, I met her at the Gala. I took an entirely different pony to the Gala.”   “I don’t care how many little whores you have, you’re supposed to be with me.”   “Pinkie is not a whore!” interjected Blueblood, trying to keep his temper under control, “She’s the third best baker in Ponyville, what have you ever been third best at? Spending your father’s money? Raising your tail for whoever he doesn’t like this week? You’re not even the best at that, no matter how hard you try you won’t even be the best whore, you’re pathetic.” Tears started to well up in his targets eyes and she staggered back from him. He looked aside and saw the expression on Pinkie’s face, it was the same expression he had seen on a much much older mare only a week ago, she was ashamed of him. A cold feeling passed through him.   “Prince Blueblood,” yelled Pinkie. “Even if she was being a big stinky, meanie head, there was no need to be a meanie back, you said you wanted to stop being like that, apologize now!”   “But I was..” started her companion.   “Apologize! Now mister. Or no cowboy fun for you tonight!”   “I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to,” he took a deep breath, “I apologize for my words Ms Hotel, I did not mean what I said, but please do not insult my marefriend again.”   “Now the two of you come with me and we can sort this out.” With this Pinkie grabbed both of the unicorn’s tails in her mouth and began to drag them through one of the side doors leading into the gardens.   Once out into the chill of the summer evening Pinkie let her captives go and turned to talk to them as if they were little foals.   “Now Bluie. Did you tell Prench that you would take her to the Gala?”   “Well I might have given her that impression, yes,” said Blueblood awkwardly.   “And when you couldn’t how did you tell her?”   “I think I asked my secretary to write her a letter.”   “That hurt,” whined Prench, “I loved you and you blew me off with a letter, you didn’t even care enough to write to me yourself.”   Pinkie took a step closer to Blueblood and turned to Prench, “Why do you love Bluie?”   “What?”   “Well he’s hunky and rich and powerful and good in bed and super fun to be with and wants to be a good pony, but why do you love him?”   “I, I, I don’t know,” the aquamarine mare stuttered. “Well what do you like about being with him? I like how he looks at me, like I’m somepony special.” “When I’m with him I think about how people are looking us and that Daddy will be angry.” “Why do you want your dad angry? I’ve always wanted mine to be happy,” asked Pinkie looking confused. “I don’t want Daddy’s to be angry, I just want him to pay attention to me and not his work,” snapped Prench, a look of shock passing over her face.   “Silly, have you tried to just talk to him?”   “What?”   “Your Dad. Sometimes Daddy’s are all busy and grumpy and stuff but you're always their little filly and they forgive all sorts of stuff, like moving all the rocks from the east field to the pond because you tried to teach them how to swim, rocks don’t swim well you know. You just have to talk to them, Daddies not rocks,” she muzzled Prench, “Just talk to him.”   “You really think that will work?” she sobbed.   “I know it will, now smile,” said Pinkie demonstrating.   Prench got to her feet and dried her eyes, she half heartedly tried to copy Pinkie.   “That’s better, but keep trying. Now go talk to your father.”   “I will,” said the mare trotting away looking rather dazed.   “You’re amazing” exclaimed Blueblood as he sat slumped against one of the trees, “I’m sorry about what I said to her.”   “Are you really?”   “Yes,” he was surprised, it was true, “Yes, I am sorry, I don’t think I would have been a week ago, before I met you.”   “Then that’s a start, we all make mistakes Bluie, the trick is to try and fix them.” Pinkie laid herself out legs pointing straight up, her head on Blueblood’s lap, he rested a hoof on her stomach and began to slowly move it in circles, one of her rear legs twitched slightly.   They sat in silence for a few minutes.   Blueblood spoke first, “What are we Pinkie?”   “Ponies, silly. You’d think you’d have to know that to get to help run the country.”   He laughed, “You might be surprised how little you need to know to run a country, but I mean what are we to each other?”   “What do you think we are?” she said quietly with a little hitch in her voice that felt like a punch to the gut.   “You're all wrong for me, you’re not a noble, you won’t help my house, you’re silly and strange and spontaneous and beautiful and wonderful. I’m all wrong for you, I’m a bad pony and you are so not, my rivals will always consider you a target, you deserve so much better than me.”   “You know what I think you are Bluie? I think you’re a better pony than you think you are,” she craned her head up and gently kissed him on the lips, “and I think you're my special somepony.”   “And I think you're mine,” he replied, kissing her again. It was amazing how easy it was to say, the voice in his head seemed to have packed up and left, and good riddance. “You know this won’t be easy.”   “I prefer fun too easy any day.”     As the old song went there must be at least fifty ways to leave your lover. He was sure he'd used at least that number himself, in fact there were probably over one thousand of them. 'It's not you, it's me', sleeping with her sister, not returning her letters, declaring that you’re gay, faking your own death.   "Whatcha thinking about Bluie?" asked the puffy pink pony currently reclining across his lap. "I know, let me guess. Is it about whether the clouds look down at us and talk about what we remind them of?" she put on a deep voice, "'You see that pony down there, if you squint and turn your head it looks just like a cloud and that one looks like a cupcake' or is it whether cakes want to be eaten? ‘Cause it’s probably not that fun to be eaten but if they didn't want to be eaten why would they taste so good? or is it whether the word succotash or guacamole is funnier or maybe succomole or guacatash?" There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her. "Yes, Pinkie that's exactly what I'm thinking about", said Prince Blueblood smiling down at her. So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them? Because she was there when he needed her the most.   Because she made him happy   Because she was fun to be with.   Because she reminded him he could be a good pony. And because he loved her.