Chapter 4: In Which Our Hero Witnesses the Effects of Alcohol and Hatches a Plan
Ugh. I toss. And turn. And toss some more. Sleep is just not coming tonight. I sigh and sit up, rubbing my eyes. A glance out the window shows that the moon has already begun to set. After midnight, then. I'm going to be feeling this for the rest of the day. I fall back on my pillow. For some reason, its cloud-like softness is no comfort tonight.
Toss. Turn. Groan. I roll over and shove my face into the pillow. Unsurprisingly, this does not produce the desired result of sleep. I sigh and shake my head. Stuff it. Time to admit defeat. I roll out of bed and shake myself awake. Might as well do a little work. I'll either get something done or fall asleep in the process.
The castle halls are near silent at night. I pass a single guard, the light shining from his horn nearly blinding in the darkness. I squint and shield my eyes as I pass, and we both mutter “night” to each other. I can find my way to Blueblood's rooms without any trouble now; amazing what two weeks can do for you.
I decide to pass on knocking at the door; I think I'm known well enough to come and go freely, and I don't want to wake the Prince up. The door swings quietly open and I trot through, making sure to avoid bumping into anything.
I frown. The light in Blueblood's study is on; I can see it shining under the door. That's odd. Did he forget to turn off the light when he went to bed? I wend my way through the chairs and table and open the study door. What I see stops me in my tracks.
Blueblood is sitting at his desk, his head in his hooves. His mane is disheveled, a far cry from its normal perfectly styled self. A half-empty bottle and a small glass are sitting on the desk in front of him. It seems like he's actually cleared off part of the desk to make room.
“Uh... Blueblood? What are you doing up so late?”
He glances up at me and blinks twice in surprise. “Huh? Oh... hello, Ink.” He pokes at the glass with his hoof, rocking it back and forth along one edge. “Care to join me? This stuff is pretty good... whatever it is.”
I take a few cautious steps towards him. “You don't know what you're drinking?”
“No... Or, I don't know now. Maybe I did then. I told the cooks that I needed to... let's see... what did I say... oh yes... I wanted to get hammered as fast as possible, and they gave me this. It's... not labeled, but it's... uh... good. Better now that when I started.”
“Yeah, I bet...” I pull a chair over and sit next to him. I pick up the bottle and sniff at it before recoiling. Whatever it is, it's strong alright.
“Here, why don't you drink with me?” He starts rummaging in a desk drawer, presumably for a glass.
“Uh... sure.” This close, I can smell the alcohol on the Prince. I don't particularly want to drink this stuff – I'm not sure my internal organs will survive – but I also don't want to make him mad if he's this intoxicated, so I guess I'll play along. He eventually comes up with a clean-looking glass and pours me some of whatever it is. He's surprisingly steady, given how much he appears to have drank. He pours himself another helping as well, before picking up his glass.
“How about a toast?” He raises his glass higher, staring curiously at the liquid within. I raise mine to my lips. “To... to... ah, buck it.” My eyes widen at the sudden profanity as he throws his drink back. Unfortunately, I choose that moment to do the same. The drink burns my mouth and throat as it goes down, but it never manages to make it all the way as I attempt to spit it out in surprise. The end result is a swirling, burning sensation through my mouth, throat and sinuses that sends me into a coughing fit. Blueblood claps me on the back a few times until my trachea decides to cancel its revolution.
After a moment, I manage to splutter in a manner resembling speech. “Don't... don't do that!”
“Do what?”
“Curse! Or interrupt me when I'm drinking. Especially not cursing when drinking, that's just... weird, coming from you.”
He regards his glass curiously, turning it side to side in his hoof. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He downs the rest of his drink and begins to refill it. I lay my hoof on top of his to stop him.
“You know, it looks like you've had quite a lot. Maybe that's enough?”
“A lot? Yes, I suppose I have. This was full when I started.” I feel my eyes widen. If he's drank this much, then we might be past the drunk stage and into the alcohol poisoning zone.
“Are you feeling okay? Should I go get someone?”
He shakes his head. “Oh, I don't think that will be necessary. I'm intoxicated, not dying. I started drinking several hours ago.” He pauses and stares out the windows, his eyes unfocused. He leans back against his chair, and his entire body seems to go limp. For a moment, the expression on his face is one of extreme pain, mixed with sorrow. “It seemed... appropriate. Necessary. And I wanted to.”
My voice is very quiet. “Why?”
He slides an envelope over to me. I pick it up and flip it open, and a small card falls out. It's white, trimmed with gold borders that have green vines growing around them. I only need to read the first line.
You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Silver Gilt to Ms. Crowned Leaf, to take place on the 1st of August, 1023RC.
I sigh and put the card back on the desk. “I'm... I'm sorry. Watching your first sweetheart get married...” I gulp. “It must be hard. Do you still... feel anything for her?” He glances over towards me, an expression of mild surprise on his face.
“What? Oh, no, not at all. I have long since moved on from Crown. And I am happy for her. Really, I am.” He says it like he's trying to convince himself. He finishes filling his glass and takes another drink.
I smirk. “You don't seem like it.” I frown. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.” Blueblood waves his hoof in a semi-dismissive fashion, but doesn't say anything. “Well... Then what's the matter? Is the guy a total jerk or something?”
“I wouldn't know. I've never met him. I've... never met anyone.” I frown.
“What do you mean? Of course you've met ponies. You've met me, haven't you?”
“Not like this!” His voice breaks, and he nearly slams his glass down on the desk. I put a comforting forehoof on his shoulder.
“Why don't you explain it to me?”
He takes a deep breath, a shuddering, rattling sound that seems to shake his whole body. “She's getting married. She's moving on with her life. She's getting married, she's got a good business, she has friends, connections... Her life went somewhere. And mine... didn't.”
“What do you mean? What about Scales? The brilliant legal scholar, remember? Seems like that's something worthwhile.” He picks his glass up again and tips it in my direction.
“I suppose you have a point.” He sighs and finishes off his drink. He goes to pour another, but I reach out with my other foreleg and stop him.
“Talk first, drink later, okay?” He sighs and puts the bottle down, before turning and giving me a wan smile.
“That sounds good. Seems you're a good influence on me. I...” His head droops, staring down at his hooves. “I don't have any friends.”
I scoff. “Oh come on, you have loads of friends, I mean, there's... Well, there's that captain who trained you, right? And I've seen you being really friendly with the castle staff.”
He shrugs. “Not really. I mean, I get along well with them, and we're courteous to each other, and I say hi, how are you, how's the family, but the staff and I aren't friends. Masters and servants just don't associate – I don't see them when they're not working or spend time with them outside of the castle. And I only see Ironback occasionally. I don't need a guard all that often, so he's usually off guarding some statue or whatever it is guards who aren't protecting somepony important do.”
“Well, what about the nobles? You know, those fancy high society ponies.”
“Hah! As if! I mean, I can't stand half of them anyways.” He's talking much more animatedly now, waving and gesticulating with his hooves. “And the other half wouldn't have anything to do with me! They've bought into the legend of 'Prince Badblood' so completely that they're convinced I'm exactly as bad and selfish and rude as I seem! They avoid me like the plague. And even if they were willing to try to get to know me, their reputations wouldn't survive it. Associating with me would seem to condone my behavior – it'd be social suicide!”
“Well, why not... try acting differently? Look, I've gotten to know you these last two weeks, and I like you.” I grin and punch him lightly in the shoulder. “You're not as bad as you look, you know that? Why not just let them see that?”
Blueblood shakes his head vigorously. “It won't matter. Don't you get it – it doesn't matter. My fame is... alive, or something. Ponies who've never met me hear it and believe it.” He reaches out and pours himself another drink. “I'm too... too good at being bad. It doesn't matter how I act, because they just see what they want. They'll be espec... expet...” he clears his throat, “expecting me to act bad, so they'll find something to convince them that I'm really like that, and then they'll spread the story to somepony else, and on it goes.” He downs half of his drink and rests his chin on his desk.
“I don't have any friends. And I never will.”
“Hey, it's not that bad. It's going to be alright.” I lay a comforting forehoof on the back of his neck. I normally wouldn't do this with an employer, but Blueblood is more than just my boss – he's my friend. Right now, he's a friend who needs my help.
“Do you know why I don't go on vacations?”
I blink at the non-sequiter. “No, I don't think you told me.”
“I have nopony to go with.” He sighs. “No friends. I could go and sit on a beach or something, I guess, but that's no fun alone. Nothing to do but listen to other ponies having fun, and that's, like, not fun at all. I want to go on vacations, really. I do. I want to, but... there was never anypony to, to do anything with.” He makes a vague, dismissive gesture with one hoof. “Ironback's no fun. Guards never are. They're always so stuffy, and prepared, like, all the time, like they can't relax for a minute, because that's when the ninja ponies and their, uh... their... tamed timberwolves! Their timberwolves will jump out of a closet and attack, or whatever it is guards prepare for.”
He sighs again. “'M sorry. I shouldn't... shouldn't do this to you. You're not here to listen to me cry. And it's not professional. I think.”
By this time, I've started running my hoof through his mane and down his back, the way my mom used to do when I was feeling down as a kid. “It's okay.” I smile at him. “I'm your friend, right? This is what friends are for.”
He smiles, just a little bit. “Thank you. I just... I just saw the letter, and it hit me how long it has been since I had a real friend, or any kind of relationship. I throw myself into my work, but I'm... I'm so lonely. You know something? Before you came, I could go a day without speaking to anypony but the servants when they brought in tea and cleaned the rooms. Just me and my study and my books and my papers and my laws. And all I could think of was those years of being alone, and no friends, and no special somepony, and, and...” He sighs and mutters quietly. “I haven't been in a relationship since Crown and I separated. Not a serious one, at any rate. Nothing. No special pony out there for me, nopony to talk to about my work or share dinner with or anything. The last time I was kissed was the day before Crown and I... well, since then.”
I give him a deadpan look. “I'm not going to kiss you, no matter how long it has been.”
He chuckles a little bit at that. “I suppose that would break some kind of law. I should know.” He casts his eyes downward, and his voice loses what little levity it had. “How about a hug?” These four words come out in a pathetic, pleading tone, almost a whimper.
I smile. “I think that's okay.” I pick him up and lean him against me – given the amount of alcohol he's consumed, that seems to be about all he's capable of. He rests his head on my shoulder, and I wrap my forehooves around his neck and resume stroking his mane. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be just fine. You'll make friends. Lots of them, I bet. You just need to believe in that. You're witty, and charming, and polite, and enthusiastic about your work, and ponies like that. Now come on, let's get you to bed, shall we?” I slide out of the chair and pull him with me. He's a little wobbly, but seems steady enough to walk. I throw one of his forelegs over my shoulder and start walking towards his bedroom as he leans against me. He stumbles once or twice, but doesn't fall, which is fortunate, since I'm not sure I'm strong enough to hold him up if he had. His head hangs low, and he doesn't say anything as we walk through the sitting room and into his bedroom. I give him a small push to help him get into bed, where he simply collapses atop the covers, not even bothering to get under them.
I smirk. “You better get some sleep. In the morning, you're probably going to have quite the headache.”
He groans. As I turn to go, I hear the rustling of covers and turn to see he's raised his head just a bit. “Ink...”
“Yes, Blueblood?”
“Earlier... when you said you were my friend... did you mean it?”
I smile at him. “Of course I meant it.”
He falls back onto his pillows. “Good. You're my best friend...” I close the door behind me as I leave.
Best friend? I suppose I am. A month ago I would have dreaded that title more than termination, but now... Now, I'm almost proud of it. It feels good. Yes, we are friends, but we're more than that. We're best friends.
I should probably go back to my room and try to get some sleep, but I don't much feel like it. I stroll into Blueblood's study and take a seat in his chair. I glance at the bottle of alcohol before pouring myself a little. Well, why not? I sip the beverage – carefully this time – as I flick through some of the other letters sitting on Blueblood's desk.
Response from a law library, probably a form letter.
Some kind of official document, looks like court dates for an upcoming case he's working on.
A thank you card from some rich pony whose name I don't recognize, thanking him for attending a party a week ago. I hadn't been there, but from the strained nature of her compliments I'm guessing he was in full form as 'Prince Badblood'.
Some business mail. Fashion experts predict this year's theme will be 'insight', whatever that means, and boutiques and designers everywhere are scrambling to meet consumer demand. A gem mine in Canterlot mountain is in foreclosure, looking for new ownership. A long-awaited merger between two carriage-making companies has fallen through.
I flick through a few more letters before one catches my eye. I open it and read it quickly, and then again, more slowly this time. I set the letter down on the desk and sip my drink, thinking hard.
I sit that way for a long while, just sipping my drink, leaning back in Blueblood's chair, and thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking.
And then, I get an idea.