Chapter 2: In Which Our Hero Settles In and Sees Another Side of the Prince
My room – rooms, actually – turned out to be private quarters in one of the palace's many, many wings. I'm pretty sure this is just one of the million guest rooms in the palace, and yet the bed is the softest thing I've ever felt in my life. The closet is huge, almost big enough for three ponies to stand in and still have breathing room. I'm almost ashamed of how little space my dress clothes take up. The bathroom is gorgeous – I know it's only a bathroom, but there's really no other adjective for it. Marble and shiny brass fittings everywhere, and it's all polished to a mirror shine.
My first day of work went quite well. Blueblood walked me through the everyday business of a legal scholar. It turns out that he often juggles 3 or more cases at once, writing or researching each as he gets inspiration or insight and moving on to another when he hits a wall or is stuck waiting for research material to arrive from another city or the castle archives. I'm beginning to see why his desk is as messy as it is, since he needs to have wildly different documents and books at hoof at any given time. I actually saw him writing a letter with his magic while explaining a case to me, only to drop the letter and start scribbling notes to himself about another case.
Blueblood's work schedule is pretty relaxed – he apparently starts working between 10 and 11 a.m., depending on when he finishes breakfast, and he stops approximately whenever he feels like it. He doesn't expect me in there until he is, but I was there at least a half hour early today anyways. The work itself isn't that hard, and Blueblood is surprisingly good at making pleasant conversation while he works, even if he occasionally wanders off into long, rambling explanations of legal minutiae. So far this job has not been nearly as all-around horrible as I had expected.
I'm sitting in the study and listening to the tap-tap-tap of rain on the windows. It's a pretty nasty day out there – gray clouds, no sun, the works. I'm not even sure why the pegasi schedule rain for Canterlot, since there's hardly any plants in the entire city. You'd think they could just water the few plants and gardens there are, but I guess they believe in being thorough. Very, very thorough.
I frown down at the piece of paper in my hooves. It's a research application for a law library – Blueblood needs their records on some kind of historical law practice for who knows what. I don't understand most of it. Before I came here, I didn't think Blueblood understood the law either, much less possessed the ability to read, but apparently I can be very, very wrong.
Another occupant of the list of things I don't know is preventing me finishing this form. Researcher's Last Name. It actually took me a moment to realize that I did not, in fact, know my employer's full name. You'd think this would have been covered in employee orientation, but there was not, as a matter of fact, any sort of formal orientation process, just Blueblood giving me a run-through of his work. So far, this whole job has been remarkably informal. Yesterday we had a break for tea.
Well, nothing for it. I slip the paper into my saddlebags, push back from the desk and venture out into the hallway in search of my erstwhile employer. He left the study about noon, and I haven't seen him since. I trot through the corridors of the castle, but after 15 minutes of searching, I am no closer to finding the Prince and much closer to being hopelessly lost. In an attempt to avoid this dire and embarrassing fate, I decide to flag down a guard. The unicorn stops and give me a polite nod.
“Can I help you?”
“Er, yes. Would you happen to know where I could find Prince Blueblood?”
He blinks in surprise. I get the sense this isn't a question he gets very often. “Uh... why do you ask?”
“Paperwork for him to fill out.” His eyes widen just a fraction. I bet I can guess what's going through his head right about now – Blueblood does work? 48 hours ago, I'd have wondered the same thing, but now... Now I know that yes, he does work, and quite hard at that. I was shocked yesterday when he told me just how many cases he works on. By his own estimation, about a quarter of all cases that come before the Princesses end up on his desk in one form or another.
It only takes a moment for the famously stoic attitude of the Royal Guard to reassert itself. “He'll probably be in one of the central halls. I believe he was showing a lady around the palace today.” I frown. He didn't mention anything to me, though he did say he would have other responsibilities around the palace. I suppose he thinks showing a noble lady around is a 'responsibility'.
I snort a little louder than I intend to. Figures. While I'm trying to get up to speed and sorting through the mounds of disorganized paperwork he has piled on his desk, he's schmoozing some rich gal. You know what? I take back everything I said about him working hard. He's a lazy bum.
After a moment, I realize the guard is still waiting for me to respond. I dip my head and mumble “thanks” before trotting off towards where I think the center of the castle is. After a few more long, curving hallways and a couple large staircases, I manage to get to a long portrait-filled hallway just in time to catch a glimpse of white fur and a blonde tail disappear around a corner. I break into a gallop and narrowly manage to avoid skidding on the polished floors as I round the corner.
The Prince and a pegasus mare are walking down another hallway side-by-side. I give her a quick once over – probably in her early 30s, pale red coat, gold mane. I can't see her cutie mark under the phenomenally gilded dress she's wearing. Not that I would stare anyways. That's rude. Even from behind, I can tell that she's wearing a lot of makeup.
“Blueblood! Uh, I mean, Prince. And, uh, ma'am.” Blueblood stops and turns, a gleaming, radiant, utterly fake smile on his face. She turns as well, though she seems much less happy. Her smile is, if possible, even faker, and she's clearly straining to remain cheery. I can see her shoot Blueblood a venomous glare when she thinks he's not looking, her mouth twisting for just a second as it attempts to form the grimace it so desperately wants to.
“Yes, how may I – Ah! Ink Blot! What a pleasure.” Just like that. A few words, a few muscle movements in his face, and his smile shifts into something completely different, something decent and friendly and welcoming. “Might I introduce you to Lady Glamor? She's from the east coast, but has come to grace us Canterlot natives with her presence. She specifically asked me to show her around the castle.” I see Glamor's eye twitch as Blueblood casually reinforces her foreignness. I know enough about the nobility to know that those who live in Canterlot look down on those who don't; for somepony not rich or influential enough to live with the elite in Canterlot, having that fact rubbed in their face must be galling. I wonder if he knows he's doing it.
“Lady Glamor, this is Ink Blot, my new personal assistant. So far he's proven himself quite the quick study.” I stand up a little straighter at the praise. Damn straight I'm a quick study. Lady Glamor shoots me a look full of sympathy and pity. I can almost read her thoughts through her eyes – Oh, you poor, miserable soul.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am. I was just hoping to borrow the Prince for a moment – just a quick bit of paperwork...” I see her eyes light up with hope, as her gaze begins darting around the hallway. Probably looking for the nearest escape route.
The Prince smiles and shakes his head. “That won't be necessary. Our tour is almost finished, in any case.” Glamor's shoulders sag as her hopes are crushed mercilessly, as if by... something... that crushes things without mercy. Okay, so poetry's not my special talent.
The Prince turns back to Glamor, his smile shifting back into ultra-fake mode. “Unless, of course, the lady wished to see more of Canterlot. I'm sure I could make room on my schedule for an exclusive, private tour.” Glamor's eyes widen and she shakes her head furiously before regaining control and slowing the motion to a slow, polite refusal. She waves off Blueblood's offer with a hoof, laughing politely as she does so.
“Oh, I just couldn't take up any more of your time. I sure you have very important things that require your attention, and I've already taken up so much of your time and effort.” She forces a grin. I frown. This woman is clearly uncomfortable and eager to escape, and if my guesses are on the mark, it's not that hard to figure out why. Blueblood must have been rude or tactless, but nopony is this oblivious. He must have realized just how ticked she is, so why is he doing this? Is it possible that all of the horror stories about Blueblood stem from a complete inability to read social cues? Or does he just not care?
His smile widens. “Very well, I suppose I do have responsibilities that I have shirked. Let me just finish up our tour, and then I will show you out.” He starts walking again. I follow him for lack of any better options. After a moment, we come to a pair of wooden doors. Blueblood stops in front of them, seemingly waiting for something. Glamor stops as well, turning and raising an eyebrow at the Prince. He raises an eyebrow back at her. He's... not going to open the door for her, is he? The silent dialogue stretches on interminably, cocked eyebrows and subtle head movements the only sign of communication.
I can't take it. I begin to push between them, heading for the door. “Here, let me, I'll get that...” Blueblood brings a foreleg up and stops me.
“Oh, don't trouble yourself, Ink Blot. That won't be necessary.” I feel my jaw drop open. What is he doing? Call me a chauvinist, but I'm pretty sure I remember my mother teaching me to open a door for a lady. Or any guest, for that matter. I can't believe that Blueblood's social education could somehow be that deficient – but on the other hand, can I really believe that he's doing it on purpose? Most of the stories about the Prince call him self-absorbed, selfish, and snobbish – but intentionally rude, even maliciously so?
It seems Glamor isn't willing to wait to find out. She pushes the door open with a huff and strides through, not bothering to hold it for the Prince. I probably wouldn't either, in her place. Blueblood strides through the door – he holds it for me – as if nothing untoward had happened. “Thank you, my dear. Now, down this hallway-”
“No! No!” Glamor barks, rounding on the Prince. “I have had it with you! You are the poorest excuse for a gentlestallion I have ever met. You are rude, inconsiderate, selfish, and lacking in basic manners and decency! I would rather jump off the highest tower in this castle than spend another minute with you, and I have nothing but sympathy for the poor ponies you inflict your presence on! If I never see you again, it will be far, far too soon for my tastes. Good day to you sir!” She whips her hoof up, and before either the Prince or I can react, the hallway rings with the smack of a hoof striking flesh. Glamor turns and snorts before storming out.
Blueblood simply stands there quietly, gently rubbing his injured cheek. He seems to be lost in thought for a moment before he shrugs.
“Well, I think that went rather well.”
I gape. How... What... How could he possibly think that went 'well'?!? She hit him! Physically struck him! If this is going well, I dread to think what it looks like when things go badly! Attempted assassination? Coup d'etat? I decide to voice my concerns.
“Uh... Sir... How?” Even by Blueblood's relaxed standards of formality, I'm pretty sure I'm out of line. “How in Tartarus could you call that going well?” Oh, I'm definitely out of line now.
“She looked like a kicker.” I didn't think that my jaw could open any wider, but it somehow finds a way to.
“You... expected her to hit you?”
“Expected? Mmm... No, that would be a bit too strong. I merely considered it to be a likely possibility.”
“So, you... knew how angry she was?”
He raises an eyebrow, seemingly amused. “I'd have to be rather blind not to notice.”
I can't bring myself to believe it, but... “You were doing that on purpose?”
“Doing what? Getting under her skin? Oh yes, quite intentionally.” What? What reason could there be for intentionally antagonizing visitors to the castle? Twisted entertainment? A chance to act like a jerk? Did Glamor steal his reservation at a restaurant or kick his dog or something?
I purse my lips. “Um, if you don't mind me asking...”
“I don't. I suspect I know what you're about to ask anyways.” His mouth quirks upwards into a smile. I get the sense he's just waiting for me to say it out loud.
“Why?”
He opens his mouth as if he's about to answer, stops, opens it again, and then closes it once more. He chuckles for a moment, and then turns to face me for the first time. “I didn't get a chance to give you that tour of the castle I promised yesterday, did I? How about right now? I'm still in the mood to walk around some, I think. Don't worry, all of your questions will be answered.”
“Uh... sure.” I nod, and he starts off down the hallway.
“I'll take you down to the outside wing, where the best observation points are, right underneath Aunt Lulu's observatory. Most of these hallways are essentially office space for dignitaries, visiting ambassadors, Guard officers, that sort of thing. Personally, I've always felt these hallways did more valuable service as a place to store the monumental number of paintings the crown owns.” I follow him as the corridor doglegs right and then begins to arc around. Thinking back to my view of the outside of the castle, I think we're heading around the outer edge of the palace, near the edge of Canterlot.
“I suppose I must begin the story at, well, the beginning. Once upon a time, I was a handsome young lad of 17. I was now an adult – more or less – and as such, I was able, for the first time, to participate in Canterlot social events and court functions as an adult, rather than being relegated to the children's table. Society began to see me as an independent stallion, one who would build his own reputation. I began to receive personal invitations to events, asking specifically for me, rather than attending as a hanger-on to an older relative. This was just when I was beginning my legal studies in earnest and starting to learn the true intricacies and fine details of the law. The view off to the right is quite spectacular, by the way.” I glance off to the right, and see that the right-hoof wall has been replaced by a long series of floor to ceiling windows. The view is indeed spectacular, showing the outer wall of Canterlot and the countryside beyond, even through the rain. I make a mental note to return at sunset during clearer weather. I jerk my attention back to the Prince as he begins speaking again.
“And, as young stallions tend to do, I met a young mare. Her name was Crowned Leaf.” He falls silent for a moment, and when I glance over at him, I see a faint smile on his face, his gaze distant. “She was... beautiful. More beautiful than any mare I had ever met. Her mother made decorative magically-altered flower arrangements and she came to help with decorations for some social event as an apprentice. I stumbled into the hall, a little lost, we struck up a conversation...” He trails off again, then shakes his head and continues speaking, his voice steadier.
“We struck an instant camaraderie. She was somewhat timid and shy – her family situation didn't help with this, I suspect. Though wealthy, her family was newer money, only a few generations into its wealth, and they had no aristocratic title. I think she was rather intimidated by the longstanding families and their snobbish attitudes, as well as the pomp and splendor of the royal palace. She looked to me as her guide, hanging on every word I said. She adored me, and I... Well, it sounds callous, but I loved the attention. I loved the way her eyes lit up whenever I showed her some new, grandly decorated room in the palace, the way she listened with every fiber of her being to my stories of royalty and high society. She looked up to me, an experience I'd never had before.” He pushes open a door, letting a damp breeze in. “This observation deck is one of my favorites.”
He leads the way out into a small circular balcony that juts out from the side of the castle. Below us and only a few hundred meters away, I can see the outer wall of Canterlot, small white and silver dots marking the pathways of rain-drenched Guards as they beat their patrols along the top of the wall. Blueblood walks slowly to the edge of the balcony and rests his hooves on the railing. He stares out at the rain for a long while, seemingly lost in his memories.
“It was... blissful. 8 months passed in rapturous joy. We saw each other almost every day, and more than a few gossip rags began spreading rumors of a royal wedding.
“It... did not last. We... weren't suited for each other.” He grimaces, as if the words cause him physical pain, as if the admission is harmful to him. “She thought of me as her prince, with everything that entails. She thought I would sweep her off her feet with grand romantic gestures, take her to all of the grandest social events in Canterlot, that sort of thing. Not to say that I do not enjoy the rich social scene of Canterlot, but... I had my studies and my work to think of as well. She wanted something, and I could not, was not prepared to give it. We became bored, even frustrated with each other. She felt that I wasn't spending enough time with her, and I wanted more space. Luckily, we noticed before it was too late and we did or said something we both regretted.
“We parted amicably, and I still occasionally correspond with her or see her at social events. I was, naturally, quite distraught and heartbroken.” His gloomy expression lifts for a moment as he chuckles. “I'm sure I drove the castle staff to the end of their ropes with my moping. Even princes have their... phases, I suppose.”
I don't say anything, just turn away from him and stare out at the rain. I can certainly see why such an experience would leave its marks, but being rude and dismissive to all mares simply because of one bad teenage relationship? That seems... petty. Way too petty, even for him.
I blink in surprise. Had I just thought that? A week ago, I would have accepted that idea without questioning it. It would have seemed perfectly in character with what I knew of him. But now... I had known Prince Blueblood personally for a little less than 24 hours, and already everything I thought I knew about him had been upended. I was no longer willing to simply accept public opinion, when there was clearly more to him.
“I bet I know what you're thinking.”
I jump. “I...”
“You're thinking that being rude and dismissive to all mares simply because of one bad teenage relationship would be remarkably petty.”
I stare. I had always been told that the legends of unicorn mind-reading were just that – legends – but that was eerie. He laughs, a deep, throaty sound.
“Don't worry. I'm not reading your mind, if that's what you're worried about.” Well, that certainly fills me with confidence. “It's just that the first pony I told that story to had the exact same reaction. Well, almost the same.”
“Almost?”
“He hit me and told me to stop being so daft.” He glances at me, his muzzle twisted in amusement. “Oh, don't look so shocked. Yes, ponies do hit me on occasion – as you have clearly seen – and in this case, it was perfectly justified. Besides, he was my personal bodyguard and self-defense instructor.”
“You were in the Guard?”
“Oh, not officially, though I could have been had I wished. Captain Ironback was the head of my personal guard at the time. He still is, officially, though I rarely require one. When he was assigned to me at the age of 21, he informed me in no uncertain terms that any royal under his protection would be 'hardened', as he put it, so that if I found myself in danger when no guards were at hoof, I would be able to defend myself. Most exhausting six months of my life, but his lessons took hold.” He shakes his head. “But that's besides the point.
“After Crowned Leaf and I... separated... I went through a series of short-term relationships. Rich, aristocratic young mares. I don't remember most of them; they were short-term at best. None of the relationships lasted, which was for the best – half of them wanted a fairy-tale Prince, and had no interest in getting to know the real me. The other half just wanted me for the path I offered into the upper echelons of Canterlot society. They were either trying to use me or had fallen in love with a stallion that didn't exist.” He turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “Is it any wonder that I became bitter?”
He goes on without waiting for an answer. “Eventually, I became fed up, and I decided to do something about it. I started acting rude, boorish and selfish in an attempt to drive these false suitors away. I was quite successful, and as you've seen, I've only gotten better at being worse.” His eyes twinkle and he grins. “And, if I'm being perfectly candid... well, it is somewhat entertaining. I like to think that I teach them a lesson about getting to know a pony rather than falling in love with an ideal, but... I can't say I'm very confident in my success rate.” The humor from a moment ago is gone now, and he turns back to the rain. “It didn't take long for word of my behavior to spread, and the nobility quickly accepted it as the truth. They rarely bother to investigate beyond what gossip tells them. At social events I found myself slipping into my alternate persona more and more, until it just... became routine. And accepted. By everyone.”
I walk up beside him and sit, resting my front hooves on the rail. “Feel good to get that off your chest?”
He smiles a little and turns to look at me. “I suppose it does. There aren't many ponies who've heard that story. I suppose this means I trust you.” He cocks his head. “It's odd, really. I've known you for only a day, and already I trust you a great deal, even though I know almost nothing about you. Why do you suppose that is?”
I open my mouth and close it again in confusion. “I guess... I just have a trustworthy face?”
He shakes his head. “That may be, but I suspect that's not the question I should be asking. I should be asking: who are you, Ink Blot? I did not place the job posting, nor was I responsible for selecting a candidate. All I know about you is that you worked for the Educational Licensing Bureau, are a fast learner, and are very confident in your skills. Beyond that, who are you?”
What are you supposed to say to that? “Well, I'm from Chicoltgo.”
“Really? I'd never have guessed. You don't have a noticeable accent.”
“I guess school drummed that out of me. Besides the ELB, I've worked for the Canterlot Questioner and Trans-Equestria Shipping.”
“I can't say I'm familiar with Trans-Equestria, but the Questioner is a fairly respectable paper. Of course, the high society ponies would never be caught reading such 'plebian' fare.” The sarcasm and amusement in his voice is obvious. “Why did you leave? I am given to understand that you were recommended very highly.”
“I should hope so. I got along great with all of my past employers. I don't know, I just... Get restless? For me, the challenge is when a business is disorganized or is organized, but could be better. Once I fixed things up to the best of my ability, it's just busywork managing things and keeping them running the same. There's no real challenge in that, and it's usually not that hard to train somepony to follow new procedures or organizational systems or what have you. I start feeling... stuck, cooped up, you know. I want to move on, to new places and new challenges. I guess I've never stuck with any one place for that long, almost never more than a year.”
“I see. So... you will likely be moving along in a few months, then?”
“Probably.” Did his voice... catch? Just for a moment, as if the idea of me moving on... made him sad. I mean, I guess that he probably doesn't talk with that many ponies, so I can see how he'd want company, but we barely know each other. It's not like I'm his best friend or anything. We watch the rain in silence for a few more minutes.
“I believe you had something you wanted to ask me?”
I blink and shake my head to clear my thoughts. I'd completely forgotten why I actually went looking for him. “Ah, yes. I was just filling out some paperwork, and I was wondering: what's your last name?”
“You really don't know?” He raises an eyebrow when I shake my head. “Well, I suppose that's understandable. The royal name isn't used very often. It's Cosmos, in any case.”
I nod and take the paper and a quill out of my saddlebag and scribble the name in. “The royal name? So all members of the royal family have the same last name?”
“Correct. Those who marry or are adopted into the royal family are also permitted to use it, so, for example, Captain Armor would be entitled to use the name Shining Armor Sparkle-Cosmos.” Somehow I can literally hear him pronounce the hyphen. “Being permitted to use the royal name is quite an honor, as you can imagine.”
“Then why don't the Princesses – or other ponies, for that matter – use it more?”
“It's... not as convenient as one would think. Being addressed by title and last name is less than useful when more than one pony bear the same name and address. For example, if I asked you to take a message to Princess Cosmos, who would you take it to?”
I open my mouth to answer, then close it again. “I... don't know.”
“Exactly. That could mean Auntie Tia, Auntie Lulu, or cousin Cadence. There are at least two other 'Prince Cosmos' that I know of. That is why I am usually addressed by my first name, or my full name, Blueblood Elegance Cosmos.”
I snort. “Your middle name is Elegance?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yes. Is there a problem? I believe it is a dignified middle name, one to be proud of.”
I wave a hoof. “No, it's just... It fits you. I wouldn't have expected it to be so... on target.”
The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Would you like to know the Princesses' middle names? They rarely use them.”
I can't keep an excited grin off my face, and I lean in like I'm being let in on some big secret. I'm sure this is something I could just look up in the public records, but here it feels as if I'm being let into a confidence.
“Well, Celestia's is Corona.”
“Celestia Corona Cosmos?” I snicker.
“Yes. Don't call her Cici, though – she hates it. I'm not saying she would send you to the Moon, but...”
“Yes? But what?” I lean in even closer, so close that we're only a few inches apart.
“Well, the last pony who did it... they never found the body.” Blueblood's trying, and failing, to stifle laughter. I can't resist joining in on the jest, the imagined punishments meted out to this hapless pony.
“I bet she banished him! Or threw him in a dungeon! Or sent him to the Moon! No, I bet she banished him, threw him in a dungeon in the place she banished him to, and then sent the dungeon to the Moon!” Blueblood does laugh at this, and we both collapse against the railing, our bodies heaving with laughter. After we calm down, I lean back against the rail, still chuckling and wiping the tears from my eyes. “And what about Princess Luna?”
“Selena. Princess Luna Selena Cosmos.”
“Oh wow, that's a serious name. That's, like, heavy-duty right there.”
“I know. It makes her sound so serious and grave, like a graceful but coldly determined monarch. The contrast is quite amusing.” Blueblood leans his head back, peering up at the stormy clouds overhead. He grins. “I have not had a laugh like that in quite a while. My thanks.” He holds his hoof out, and I stare at it in confusion for more than minute before the gesture clicks.
I return the hoofbump – I just hoofbumped a Prince! – and smile. “Any time, Blueblood. Any time.”