//------------------------------//
// Chapter Three 
// Story: Blueblood 
// by Dsarker 
//------------------------------//

The concert hall was lit, but dimly. The lights, I recall, were focused on the stage. Upon it, a pony was performing. Octavia. She played - still plays - a cello. I looked at the small piece of paper in my hoof. This... this was the Princess’ gift to me. How she knew, I did not know - and perhaps that was her goal. To unsettle me.

As I watched Octavia, I could not fully appreciate her or her music. Part of my mind, of my consciousness, remained devoted to scanning my surroundings. Cadence had a plan, and whether it was to simply let me know that she knew, or to uncover the truth of what she suspected - or perhaps something worse -  I had to remain alert. 

Octavia is... Ah, it is difficult to describe any pony faithfully. But Octavia deserves that more than most. She is an entrancing pony. Her grey coat is immaculately kept. Her black mane? Always in perfection. You must have heard her playing - she does not lack for popularity. And for good reason. Her musical talent is astounding, astonishing.

But I do not listen - not fully. I have to ignore her, put her from my mind. For Cadence planned this, and whatever she has planned I must know before it happens. Whatever her intent on bringing me here, I must be ready.

She’s a beautiful mare, Octavia is. She’s an earth pony, of course, which makes her musical talent even more amazing, for she has picked an instrument few earth ponies can play, and fewer still can play well. But she is one of them.

So what, then, was Cadence’s goal? Why this? Just for the removal of one of her late favourites? Another of her jilted lovers? No. She had a plan here. I was her servant - so she wanted me here to do something for her. 

Her music is stunning. It’s perfect. It is... bah, I wish I could describe it, it is indescribable. She plays so skillfully, that I doubt any could not be enraptured by it. It... It sounds like warm honey on a summer’s day, but with sweetly sad undertones. 

The music finishes, and with a curse, I round on myself. My attention was distracted. I watch as Octavia bows, and leaves the stage. My attention cleared, I turn to the other attendees of the concert. Nobles. Merchants. A few common ponies. Two nobles were bickering, and I tried to think of why. It came to me as I recognised them. Vassals of Axe’s former master. Bickering for position, no doubt. 

Down a level - three merchants talking. No anger among them - perhaps a business deal? A good setting for one; peaceable setting, beyond suspicion, and a safe place if tempers did happen to flare. It astonished me sometimes how ponies can be so open. It’s not merely a matter of unwillingness. Ponies do try to keep themselves to themselves, for the most part. Even though they have friends, ponies keep their emotions tucked inside them unless they are forced to bring them out. But that isn’t too difficult to do. I’ve yet to see a stallion who could resist being brought to anger by hurting a mare, or who wouldn’t spill their feelings under the influence of alcohol.

I continue brooding, scanning the audience, when I hear a polite cough at my side. I turn, to see Octavia standing there, a small smile on her face. Is she nervous? I can’t read her. She’s masked herself. “Good evening, Prince Blueblood,” she says, keeping her voice calm. “I’d heard we had a royal in the audience, but I wasn’t expecting it to be you, Your Highness.”

“Oh? Who did you expect?” I ask, keeping my face straight. This might prove slightly useful.

“Well...” she shrugs. “Princess Celestia, or Princess Cadence, Your Highness. They’ve seemed to be more...well, more like music appreciators than you have.” Nothing more than as expected, and I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or happy about that. I wasn’t known for attending musical performances. Octavia’s were the few I restricted myself to, and even then I hid myself.

I suppose, in retrospect, I must have seemed a strange sight. Even in court, I suppose. These events were high society, of course, and to depart from them would be unusual. But in those days, I was a little more careful of my image - that of an honest person, someone who did not care so much about appearances. It is an irony that has occurred to me many times.

“Are you disappointed?” I ask, putting a bit of humour into my voice. Ah, that did it. She smiles a little, and shakes her head.

“No, not disappointed,” she says, “merely a little surprised.” She paused for a moment - sizing me up. “We’re having a little to-do in... well, now, really. Would you like to join us?”

There it was. She had me. It would be positively rude to turn down such an invitation, so what else was I to do, really? “Of course. I’d be honoured to.” As she led me down backstage, I began to develop a sinking feeling that maybe this was what Cadence had wanted all along.





The little party was a small one. I gathered that they were mostly friends of Octavia, though I didn’t know anypony there (besides Octavia, of course). The two most talkative were a pair of pegasus ponies, the only two there. One of them was named Sonata. She was more talkative than the other - by name, Treble.

“So, Your Highness, what brings you to our friend’s concert?” Sonata asked, smiling a little. Not a warm smile - well, not ‘real’ warmth, anyway - but the typical polite smile. She seemed a little more... hmmm, unconcerned with rank. It’s a crude way of putting it, but it will suffice. Not that she didn’t recognise it (as some have) but more that she didn’t pay it overmuch attention. That was interesting. Most ponies are a little worried about their social superiors.

“Oh, many things, of course,” I reply. “First and foremost, Octavia’s beautiful music.” Something flickered over Octavia’s face. I didn’t catch it, but it was something. Sonata nods, and gestures to me to continue. “Second is the atmosphere. Something touches me when I see ponies as different as there are in the crowd coming together to celebrate another’s special talent.”

Treble looks like she is about to speak up, but Sonata cuts in. “Are those the only reasons, Your Highness?” she asks. “Not to be rude, but you aren’t well known for attending these sorts of things. More... ah, physical events, rather than mental.” Physical? What did she mean?

I had no time to think about that. A reason had to be invented quickly. Or... not. “Well, they are the only reasons I can think of at this time,” I replied. “I’m sorry if they may not be entirely to your liking.” Hmm. Again. Octavia. I’ve never been the most polite with ponies (well, unless it serves my interests - though even then...) but I didn’t think I was hitting too far from the mark.

Sonata nodded, slowly. “I see. Well,” she said, with that same, polite smile, “it is good to see a fellow music-appreciator in the royalty,” and with that, she walked off. Treble hesitated for a moment before following her, leaving myself and Octavia alone.

She smiled a little, the same one as Sonata had. “She seems a nice sort,” I said to her, hoping to start some sort of conversation. Have I told you about her mane? How it tucks around her ear? It’s an endearing feature.

“Yes, she does seem to mean well,” Octavia replies. Her voice is balanced. It’s not emotional... but not unemotional, if you follow. Just calm. 

“So,” I begin, thinking of some topic to draw the conversation on with, before one clicked. “Have you performed with royals in the audience more than a few times before?” Even I'll admit that wasn’t one of the smoothest topics to pick, but I wasn’t feeling that cogent at the time. 

“A couple of times,” she said, nodding. “Princess Celestia regularly attends, and occasionally Princess Cadence. I can’t say I’ve had the honour of performing before Princess Luna, though.” As expected. Princess Luna’s, ah, extracurricular activities at least kept her from the public eye for the most part... though the guards occasionally had to ‘misplace’ a missing person’s report. They enjoyed that job no more than I did. But Celestia wasn’t willing to censure her, and Cadence simply didn’t care. There wasn’t much choice. And at least when she wasn’t satiating her urges, she was a competent ruler. I’m sure for most ponies in Equestria, that made a nice change.

“Yes, she does tend to keep out of the public eye a fair bit,” I said. “Probably still adapting to the current day.” That, at least, was one problem I’d never had with Luna. The opposite was more likely. Celestia was still caught up in her glory days, when the Elements of Harmony protected Equestria and all that. Cadence had virtually disproved that thesis just recently, and it wasn’t unknown that there were six of them, and any missing would ruin everything. The Royal Guard had been instituted as adjudicators of the law, but under recent times they’d been forced to be a lot more militarised. Luna had been the one to suggest many innovations, and too many we’d simply overlooked.

That’s probably what annoyed me the most about her habits. Not merely that she had them, but that if she didn’t, she’d be the Princess the people needed. As it was, we were pretty bereft of leadership. Still, it at least boded well for Equestria that we had her at all. And we could rein her in a little. Maybe we could break those habits forever, but I doubted it.

“Yes, it must be a terrible shock to have simply lost a thousand years, locked away on the moon,” Octavia said. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to return, with most everypony you knew dead long ago.” This was a little more accurate. She hadn’t dealt with this exceptionally well. Those first few weeks she’d alternated between throwing a tantrum across the castle and sulking in her room. Celestia had gone to talk to her privately, and shortly after she seemed to have... adapted, for lack of a better word. It was a week or two later that the Captain of the Royal Guard and I had had to have that first meeting, so she wasn’t perfect. But she hid it well. Almost a year to the day of her coming back, I learned precisely how well. The Element Bearers - and I should tell you what I think of them, later - had been fooled into thinking she was some country bumpkin of a Princess, who needed to be taught how to act in proper society! That got a laugh here. Cadence had appreciated it, at least, though Celestia appeared to have taken it at face value.

Anyway, I digress - back to the conversation between myself and Octavia. “Yes, she’s had a difficult time, but we’ve worked together to help her get through it. She’s my aunt, and I felt a special duty to her.” Well, aside from the ‘aunt’ business, and ‘feeling’ that duty, it was pretty much the truth. It was business as always, serving my liege ladies.

“It’s good to see that even among the royals, being family still means something,” said Octavia, smiling. But it wasn’t that strained, politic smile. It looked genuine. So maybe I had gone a bit better than I’d hoped with that topic, though little enough. It was a good sign. Octavia was... well, I cannot deny it to you. Octavia is the mare of my dreams. Surprised? Why should you be? For a pony in my position (that is, of being deliberately cynical in service of the Princesses) it was something of a surprise to meet somepony who... well, who seemed to actually live like those ‘Elements of Harmony’ actually meant something. It’s... Bah, it’s impossible to describe it. It’s not... Not love at first sight, whatever that means. But she was the only pony I could even think about being in any sort of relationship (well, besides acquaintances, or a superior-subordinate relationship, or the very occasional friendship, of course) with. I had intended to get to know her, and, well, to get her to know me. But something in me thought about asking her out.

It was almost a second before I realised that I wasn’t just thinking about it, and my mouth had spoken too much already. Octavia looked shocked. The other ponies in the room didn’t seem to have noticed, though, so at least one faux pas had been avoided. And so... I settled in to take the best of it. Needless to say, she’d decline, and probably avoid me for the rest of the night, and possibly the same for any event at which we met. Braced for the rejection, I waited for it to come.

“I, uh...” she said, apparently knocked for six. “Okay, I suppose.” Well. You can probably guess how I felt. If she had been knocked for six, well, I wasn’t too far different. 

“You’ll accept?” I said, still trying to think of how to deal with this stunning turn of events.

“Yes, I will,” she said. 

“Then... It’s a date.”