//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Amorous Misadventures of Prince Blueblood // by FallBlau //------------------------------// It was quiet that evening in Canterlot – or at least, that's what Giovanni thought as he walked beside his master on their way to the palace. He was so accustomed to the noise and commotion of the regular city streets that the serenity of the Royal Estate, with its manicured meadows and well-kept gardens, came as a great surprise to him. “Is it always this peaceful?” he asked. Blueblood smirked as he swaggered with his hand upon the hilt of his sword. “Why yes,” he said, “Auntie always like to keep it this way. Gives her a chance to meditate, or whatever she does.” “Your aunt seems like a very sensible person.” “Yes, she does like to cultivate this persona of civility,” he said, twirling his hands in front of him. “Actually, come to think of it, she's probably the most boring person I've ever met. No fun at all, with her.” “So why is it so important to get a pair of her...” Giovanni cleared his throat, “...undergarments.” “Because, dear Giovanni, it is the nature of her regal status.” He shook his head. “I don't follow...” “ Auntie is a very chaste woman – a fact that, she herself, takes great pride. To obtain a pair of panties, a symbol of her chastity, would make me the greatest of all men.” “So you keep saying...” “So I know, Giovanni! So I know!” The servant sighed as he saw the palace walls approaching in the distance. “I still don't understand how we're going to get in. Weren't we going to use a ladder?” “Nonsense! A ladder? Are you mad? We'd never be able to reach her window!” “You're the one who suggested we use it!” “Did I? I don't recall. But there's no way that I will ever be seen climbing a ladder. What would people think if they saw me? They might mistake me for a common window-cleaner! Prince Blueblood, the window cleaner? The absurdity of it all!” “No, they might just think you were a rogue – someone whose objectives make a little more sense than a prince wishing to steal his aunt's panties.” “At least a rogue would have the decency to use the stairs – which is what I will be using.” “You've still not explained how we're suppose to get in.” “Why, that's simple Giovanni – we'll use the servant's entrance.” “Oh, well, that makes sense.” “Yes, and from there we shall sneak our way into the palace and-” “Halt!” A guard emerged from behind a tree, producing his spear as he shone a lantern on the two companions. “Who goes there?” “Good evening, my fine sir,” Blueblood said bowing. “I was wondering if you could show me to the servant's entrance?” “What for?” the guard asked gruffly. “Well, you see,” he said as he grabbed Giovanni's arm, “I found this cheeky servant here running around the premises unsupervised. I thought I would hand him back over to the proper authorities.” The guard turned to Giovanni, clearly annoyed. “And what were you doing out after dark?” the guard asked him. “Don't you know that there is a curfew for all servants.” Giovanni tried to form a reply, but was interrupted before he could do so. “Oh I'm sure he meant nothing by it,” Blueblood replied casually, “Though he does seem a tad insolent – you might want to beat him around a little.” “He'll be duly punished, sir,” the guard said, nodding. “Though I might ask, what were you yourself doing here on the Royal Grounds?” “Oh, yes, well, um, I was, uh...pruning. Yes, that's it! I was pruning. Pruning the the crab-trees, and all that.” “Oh,” the guard said, shrugging. “Well that seems reasonable. Carry on, then.” “Yes, and the same to you good sir,” “But, but, but-” Giovanni sputtered. “Quiet you!” the guard yelled as he yanked him. They turned to leave before the guard reared his head in thought. “Wait a second,” he wondered aloud. “You're pruning crab-trees at night?” the guard asked, turning back to him. “Crab-trees aren't even in season!” “Did I say crab-trees?” Blueblood asked, laughing slightly. “I meant the hedges.” “Oh, never mind then,” the guard said, turning to leave once again. “But hold on...” he said, stopping. “You shouldn't be pruning at night anyways!” “No, I assure you, those were my orders,” Blueblood said. “Orders? From who? Let me see them!” “Oh, well, let me find them...” Blueblood fumbled around his coat pockets, trying to find the nonexistent papers which the guard wished to see. “Imagine that,” Blueblood said, “It seems I've lost them.” “Uh-huh, likely story,” the guard said. “You're coming with me – both of you!” “Look here, good sir, there's a perfectly reasonable-” “Shut it!” the guard growled. “The lash is the punishment for trespassing on the Royal Grounds! Now move!” he yelled, pointing his spear at them. The two of them complied with his commands, and started walking to the palace gate, whose lights could be seen flickering in the darkness a little distance away. “Great, look at what you've done,” Giovanni seethed under his breath. “Now they're going to flog us!” “I know it looks bleak,,” Blueblood whispered back, “but I have a plan.” Giovanni rolled his eyes. “You always do...” The guard escorted them to the gate and then past the sentries who stood guard in front of the drawbridge. They were then guided through the winding maze of buildings until they reached the Royal Barracks, where they were both thrown into a small, dingy cell that was fitted with cast-iron bars. “You wait here,” the guard commanded as he locked their cell door. “I'll be back shortly.” The guard about-faced, slamming the door shut behind him as he walked back into the night. “Bravo!” Giovanni exclaimed, clapping. “And now we are locked in prison! Wonderful! No doubt, besides the whipping, that brute has a wonderful evening planned for us, too!” “He is an unsavory fellow, isn't he?” Blueblood asked, dusting himself off. “That's probably putting it mildly,” Giovanni said. “Well, Auntie needs the best security she can afford – it's only too bad she can only afford the dregs of Equestrian society.” “What do you mean?” “I mean, the guards are nothing but a bunch of contemptible commoners,” he said. “I thought the guards would have been made up of nobles...” “You would think that,” Blueblood replied, going over to the bars, “But they're not. In truth, they're really just a bunch of ruthless criminals and cut-throats who find gainful employment through the patronage of through their generous benefactor.” “So wait...” Giovanni said, arching his eyebrow, “If they are just a bunch of criminals, what keeps them from turning on their employers?” “Money, of course,” Blueblood said, removing a needle from sleeve. “Their merits, though crude, are purchased by the largess of the royal coffers at the end of each month.” “Seems like you could find better soldiers for a better price than those scoundrels,” Giovanni scoffed. “They are the scum of the earth,” Blueblood continued, picking the lock, “and none too bright, as you witnessed, but they do carry out their duty reasonably well. Fortunately,” he said, pushing open the last tumbler. causing the door the spring open, “I have no intention of being whipped today.” Giovanni stood in amazement as his master waltzed out of the jail-cell, after having been thrown in only moments earlier. “How did you...?” “Lock-pick,” he replied,sliding the needle back into his sleeve. “Definitely comes in handy.” “Well...” Giovanni said, walking out of the cell. “I stand in awe of your skills.” “Have a little faith, Giovanni,” Blueblood said, patting his cheek. “I do, but-” At that moment, the sound of voices echoed from outside the prison. “Get down!” Blueblood whispered, motioning for him to move towards the wall. They both knelt down by the door, hiding themselves in the shadows as the familiar clank of armor approached them. With a silent thud, the door to the barracks creaked opened as the guard entered once again. As he adjusted to the light, he noticed that there were no prisoners in the jail-cell. “Hey, where did they-” He was immediately silenced by a punch, square to the face, which knocked him out and sent him reeling to the floor. “Well, that was easy,” Giovanni said, shaking his hand. “Throw him in there,” Blueblood commanded, motioning to the open cell. “And gag him too, while you're at it.” They stripped the guard of his golden armor and tossed him into the cell, but not before they bound and gagged him with pieces cloth and some discarded rope they found in the barracks. “There,” Giovanni said, finishing the knot, “That should hold him. So what do we do now?” Blueblood thought a moment as he looked around. “Aha! Here, you put on his armor. Then you'll escort me to Royal Quarters, where I shall proceed to procure a pair of Aunt Celly's panties.” “Are you sure that's a bright idea? What if someone stops us?” “Then do what a guard would,” Blueblood replied. “Say you're on royal business, or something like that – just act official.” “I don't know...” “Just do as I say! Or would you rather wait for him to wake up?” he asked, pointing to the unconscious guard in the cell. “Because I don't think he's going to happy when he comes around.” Giovanni sighed. “Yes...I guess you're right. Here, let me put it on.” He spent the next minutes putting on the guard's armor, lacing up the leather straps as he adjusted the plates on his body. “There,” he said, moving his arm around, the armor clunking as he did so, “I think I got it.” “Good,” Blueblood said, heading for the door, “Then let's go. Do you know where the Royal Quarters are?” “I'm afraid I don't, master,” he said, shaking his head. Blueblood groaned. “Fine, then I'll lead the way. Just try to make it seem like I'm your prisoner.” “I'll try,” Giovanni said, “But I make no guarantees.” The two of them proceeded from the barracks, Prince Blueblood leading the way, as they traveled to the opposite end of the palace, through the endless labyrinth of buildings. Along the way, they bumped into several guards, coming and going, all of who, far from trying to stop them, seemed to not pay them any mind, whatsoever. “That's strange,” Giovanni whispered. “Why aren't they stopping us?” “Why should they?” Blueblood replied, “Just mind your own business and they'll do the same.” When at last they reached the Royal Quarters, they paused by a tall willow tree, overlooking a shady pond that lay beneath the window of Celestia's bedroom. “You wait here,” Blueblood said, “I'll go and get what I need and be back shortly.” “How soon is shortly?” “No more than ten minutes, at the most,” he said, looking around. “And what do I do if someone approaches me?” “I don't know – I'm sure you'll think of something.” “But-” “I won't be long!” Blueblood said as he ran to the other end of the courtyard and entered the open passageway on the other side. The Prince tentatively, if not instinctively, ascended the marble staircase, making sure he made as little noise as possible approached his aunt's bedchamber, which lay on the floor above him. Softly, ever so softly, he climbed the steps as he had done so many times in the past. Blueblood couldn't help, in fact, to feel a vague sense of familiarity as he made his way through the gilded halls of the palace. On any other occasion, he would have taken this same way to visit to his aunt and be entertained in her lavish apartment. If that were the case, he would have allowed his mind to wander and gaze at the strange and ancient paintings that lay here and there and admire the splendor of it all, but now he had to keep his mind focused – his destiny hung in the balance. Near the end of hallway was her door. It was a tall, majestic stone edifice with the Princesses' personal coat of arms carved into its face. He slowly laid his hand on the golden handle and pressed his face to the door. Inside, he could hear the faint sounds of snoring. Excellent. The Prince gently pushed down on the latch and opened the door, trying as hard as he could to keep it from creaking as he entered the room. Then, walking on the tips of his toes, he turned around and shut the door as quietly as he had opened it. When this was done, he peered into the darkness to see what he could make out in the confines of the bedchamber. On the far side of the room, the dying embers of the fire smoldered in the burnt out ruins of logs, flitting their faint shadows eerily on the the opposite wall, where the Princess lay peacefully dreaming. Blueblood scanned the room until he spied the dresser, which lay next to the bed. Bingo. He crossed the rug, past the bed, to the dresser and opened the first drawer – stockings. He silently closed it and opened the second – bras. “It must be this one then,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled the third one open to reveal a vast assortment of panties, of every kind and color, all folded and tucked away neatly into rows. For a moment, he stood there solemnly in front of the wardrobe door, gazing at the collection of undergarments like some ancient treasure he had discovered. As he swayed in reverence for the precious riches lying before him, a single question emerged in his mind – which one to choose? There were so many to be had, yet so few to take. Which one would possibly suffice? He looked through arrangement, sorting through the rows like one sorted through files in an office drawer, yet, finding not one that warranted more attention than the others, was forced to concede defeat and bow his head in indecision – until his eye caught the figure of his sleeping aunt, bundled underneath her silken sheets. A curious notion suddenly overtook him, and he wondered, hovering over her, if, underneath that mass of covers, was she wearing a pair of panties, or did she prefer to sleep in the nude? There was only one to find out. He painstakingly grasped the seam of the covers between his fingers, and, carefully began to pull them off, until her entire body was revealed. She was beautiful. Although, much to Prince Blueblood's disappointment, was cloaked in an evening gown. Still, with her splendid curves and voluptuous breasts, she was quite the sight. “My, my, Auntie, you've put on some pounds since we last talked,” he whispered to himself. “I love it.” He delicately traced his hand over her pale skin, feeling its soft texture as he became enraptured with his aunt's breathtaking allure. He was so consumed that he almost forgot the original reason he had come there that night. Though, at the last moment, he was awoken from his brief hypnosis, and remembered the origin of his intent. “It's the ultimate prize...” he murmured as he turned up the Princess' dress to reveal a white pair of cotton panties hugging her thighs. Blueblood's eye twitched as he gazed at what his heart truly desired. He was suddenly overtaken by a burning desire to snatch them immediately, which he resisted, but with great restraint. “Is it worth it?” He bit his lip as he pondered that question. He had come too far to give up now. And now that he had, nothing less would suffice. He decided, at last, that he have that pair, or he would always regret this night. He cautiously reached up the Princess' hips, until both of his hands were on his panties. He checked once more to see if he had disturbed her from her sleep. When he saw he hadn't, he gently began to tug and wrangle them until at last he managed to pull them below her hips, revealing her regal womanhood. At that moment, Celestia groaned, which caused Blueblood to recoil. He waited a moment on bated breath as she tossed a bit, rocking back and forth. When he was sure her turning had ended, he moved back, eager to finish what he had started. Though, as he reached for his Aunt's panties, he could not help but notice her large and protruding intimacy. For a moment, the temptation to touch it raged fiercely within Blueblood's mind. Yet there was something holding him back. It was one thing, he knew, to steal her panties – a completely different one, to go so far as to pleasure his aunt while she slept. He would committing incest, and he weighed the worth of crossing that line. He debated it in his mind, until, at length, he decided it against it. Her panties would be sufficient consolation enough for the effort he had expended this night. And maybe this way, he thought, he could still look into his Aunt's eyes again with some shred of dignity. He continued to work them off a little bit at a time, until at last he he removed them from around her ankles. With his prize in his hand, he gently made his way towards the door on the other side of the room. But just as he laid his hand on the latch, however, a matronly voice called behind him. “And where do you think you're going?”