Chapter 7: Blue
“So what happened?” Rainbow Dash asks.
With a shrug of my broad shoulders, I finish the story. “I told her we could do something, but first I wanted to freshen up. In the bathroom, I waited until I could hear her raucous snoring vibrate through the walls. I could have left right then, but Vinyl had drank a lot, and I was afraid she might start convulsing or go wandering off. I ended up waiting. When Celestia lifted the sun, I bought Vinyl a cup of coffee, helped her drink it, bought her a bagel, helped her eat it. I suppose I should have been angry, but the hangover she was suffering was punishment enough.” I chuckle. “Go ahead, Ms. Dash. Make with the Prince Blueballs jokes. I’m sure you have a whole list you have been dying to use.”
Rainbow gives me a baffled stare. “Blue, you didn’t take advantage of an intoxicated mare. I wish there were more stallions like you.”
I examine the glass of wine held with my magic. I prefer hard liquors, but they are not served at the Gala. I regret destroying my father’s flask, only because I could really use the calming kiss of brandy right about now. “Was some pony unkind to you, Ms. Dash?” I ask. “I will go to his house and beat him up, if you like.”
She laughs in that hoarse, manticore way, though it is not as bad as it usually is. “Nah, nothing too bad. Just when I was younger, some colt got a little kissy on Heart and Hooves Day. He’s already paid for it though. My friend Gilda chucked him off a cliff.”
Rainbow Dash must notice my look of utter horror, because she quickly adds, “He had wings! That little stunt still got her booted from the camp, but she was a griffon. The teachers were looking for any excuse to kick her out of there.”
“They did the right thing. Disgusting griffons,” I mutter. “I wish they would all just drown.”
Rainbow Dash gives a nervous shrug. “Well, anyway, how you been, Prince B? I am happy you managed to come out for the Gala. Ditzy would have been heartbroken if you missed it.”
“So you do know her real name?” I ask. I try another sip of wine, but it just doesn’t do anything for me.
“Ah, she knows it’s all in good fun,” Rainbow Dash says, wagging her blue hoof in my face in a dismissive manner.
“Have you seen Ms. Doo, per chance? I would like to speak to her before I retire for the night.”
“Yeah. You haven’t? She’s wearing a dress Rarity made for her. I heard you hoofed the bill. Pretty princely of you.”
I shrug. “How did the dress come out?”
“Eh, you know… better you see it for yourself.”
So help me, if Miss Rarity ruined the dress in some insane revenge by proxy…
No, no, I must not think that way. Miss Rarity is a professional after all, and a mighty fine dress maker. She made Rainbow Dash’s dress in fact and, I must say, Ms. Dash fixes up nicely. That is the quaint way earth ponies put it. When she isn’t belching and snorting and spitting like a revolting griffon, and when her hair is nicely combed and worn long, she’s rather… attractive actually. Her dress is long and somewhat tight against her body to show her muscles, though there are holes in the back that allow her wings to twitch or stretch as she so desires. The fabric used is pure white, save a streak of rainbow over her chest and breasts. Now that I think about it, Princess Sparkle was wearing a similar dress. I wonder if the Bearers of Harmony all settled on a theme this year.
Ms. Dash goes to speak to that flycolt from the Wonderbolts, the one with the powder blue fur and dark blue mane. She had been eyeing him this entire time, and I must say, she is a saint to have spent so much time with me. I am sad to see her leave, but I will see her again, I am sure. Perhaps I will take a trip down to Ponyville next week. I would like to speak to Mr. Macintosh about something.
I really should mingle. Oh, but the drag of smiling and nodding and listening to all the stories of the plebeians who think they are princes is enough to drive me to the brink. How does Aunt Tia do it, day in, day out?
Speaking of Aunt Tia, I spy her across the ballroom. Granted, she isn’t exactly difficult to pick out in a crowd. She is statuesque, towering over almost every other pony in attendance. I approach her and bow before gazing into her magenta eyes. She smiles.
“It is a pleasure to see you, Prince Blueblood. I am happy that you have chosen to attend the Gala this year.”
That’s Princess Celestia for you: the perfect actress. No matter what has happened between us, no matter what I have said, she can look at me with a loving smile if it means keeping up appearances. To her side is a pegasus I do not recognize. His coat and mane are obsidian black and his eyes are a deep, rich purple. His left wing, tucked to his side, is truly magnificent in span. I can tell it would rival my aunt’s if it were stretched out. His right wing must have been amputated, however, for he wears a metal skeleton in its place, for… symmetry perhaps? “Prince Blueblood,” my aunt says, “this is Sky Marshall Black Cloud, an emissary of the Griffon Kingdom and commander in the H.G.L..”
Oh darn it, what does H.G.L. stand for again? Uhm… Oh yes! Honorary Griffon Legion. They are some sort of mercenary group who work under the Griffon King, I believe.
I stretch my hoof out in a show of respect, but the obsidian pony spends several moments staring at me. Just staring. How odd: he has no doubt been introduced to the other princesses, and at this very moment he stands beside a goddess, and yet his focus is on me. Shaking his head, he lifts his hoof and taps his sole against mine. “It is a true honor to stand before you, Prince Blueblood. You are quite the hero in the Griffon Kingdom. Your essays on magnetism are taught in all universities.”
Huh. I didn’t think the griffons could read.
“Gilford is eager to meet you and see the magnetism spell performed by its founder,” Aunt Tia continues. “I would like to ask you to travel to the Griffon Kingdom so you may meet him. I believe it will do wonders for our diplomatic relations.”
I force a smile and nod my head. “Of course, Princess Celestia. I live to serve.”
Sky Marshall Black Cloud is staring at me again. I wish he would stop. His eyes stab daggers into my very soul. Perhaps realizing how rude he is acting, he shakes his head. “Please forgive me. It is just a dream fulfilled to stand before you.”
“Oh… it’s nothing.”
I am happy when Aunt Tia walks off, and Black Cloud goes with her, though he continues to glance over his shoulder to keep his eyes on me as long as he can. What a strange stallion, but living among those revolting griffons, I can’t really blame him for being a little off. With any luck, I can wiggle my way out of this latest obligation. After all, there are dozens of ponies better suited for a diplomatic mission. I am sure Princess Sparkle can replicate the magnetism spell if I show it to her. I look to my side, at my flank, and the delicate compass rose emblazed over the creamy fur. Not like the spell is anything special.
The day one gains his cutie mark is one of celebration and mirth, but when the thrill has died down, you are presented with even more question. What does the mark really mean, beyond the obvious? What is your purpose in life? The cutie mark only provides you with a vague direction, not a map.
Sometimes it is easy. I doubt Mr. Macintosh was surprised when an apple spawned on his flank, and Twilight was immediately taken under my aunt’s wing. What does a compass rose say, though? I swear, it would be so much easier if these things came with manuals.
I do adore maps, and when I was young I hoped to become a mapmaker, charting and categorizing all the dark lands of this world. My aunt was supportive of such a silly dream. My father’s legacy took me to the Point instead, and there, I advanced my skills with magnetism. Now I am just some poor drunkard, leeching off the kindness of my dear aunt.
Perhaps a change of scenery will be pleasant. The griffons are buffoons after all. To my knowledge, their kingdom has barely been mapped. I certainly wouldn’t be short for work. And they are interested in magnetism? The mages at the Point fancied it a mere novelty. It would… not be unpleasant if a spell I created was properly appreciated.
But I have plans of my own. I haven’t told anyone about them, save Vinyl when she was asleep. It is a silly idea, but it is something I have been thinking about since last night, a chance to stop leeching off my aunt’s kindness and my father’s legacy, and perhaps make a name for myself.
With my aunt and Black Cloud gone, no one seems interested in me. I’m alright with that. I excuse myself from the Gala and head for the garden where I hope I can be alone for the rest of the night. Or at least until Aunt Tia wants to introduce me to somepony else. Or some gold digging tramp tracks me down in this garden.
A cool breeze sweeps through the garden. The night sky is absolutely beautiful. Aunt Luna really outdid herself with the arrangement of the stars. It isn’t as much in-your-face beauty as last year’s Gala, but it is pleasant to my eyes. The night would be absolutely perfect if not for some rather revolting noises erupting from the nearby bushes. By the shudder of the leaves, it is clear there is a pony behind them, and from the many “blargs” that ripple out of the leaves, I can venture a guess that said pony is quite sick. I’m not sure if I should leave or stay. Does the pony need help? Will they be embarrassed if they come out of their sickly haze to find me standing here?
I’m still debating when the bushes rustle and a very sick looking Ditzy Doo steps out. Her face is green, her eyes are half lidded, and there is a dribble of muck on her lips. As she notices me, her eyes open, only to shut just as quickly as she tries to hold back the tears.
Ms. Doo is wearing a blue, loose fitting dress. Gently embracing her frame, it flows rather nicely in the subtle breeze of the evening. Ms. Doo… isn’t a thin mare. Actually, she is rather large, especially for a pegasi. The dress works for her though, since if it were tight like Rainbow Dash’s, her girth might look grotesque. Ms. Doo’s hair has been washed, softened, and styled into an elaborate series of braids that are worn over her right shoulder. Small blue slippers dot her cute, delicate hooves. It is the color of the dress that catches my attention most though. Is it narcissistic to think she might have chosen blue in my honor?
“Good evening,” I say as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
“I… uhm…” she stutters. “I… I…”
Taking the handkerchief from my breast pocket, I wipe away the muck and drool that still stains her lips. “The champagne gets to me like that too,” I say. With Ms. Doo cleaned up, I casually take a seat on a nearby bench. “The first time I had it was when I was at the Point. I had just finished my first year, and some of the older stallions took me to Las Pegasus for a party. Prior to that, I had indulged in cognac, so I assumed I could handle the champagne they kept pouring me.” I chuckle. “By the end of the night, I was leaning over a fountain, ass in the air, and spilling everything I had eaten the prior day. It’s the bubbles that will do that to you.”
The story puts Ms. Doo at ease, however slightly. She even giggles when I mention my princely rear. Reaching into my coat pocket, I take out a tin of breath mints. Smiling embarrassedly, she pops two into her mouth before sitting down beside me.
“How have you been enjoying the Gala?” I ask.
“It… uhm…” she looks down. “It’s really… really…”
“Boring?”
“Uhm… I just don’t really know anyone here. I mean, I do know Rainbow and Pinkie, but I don’t really wanna talk to them, you know? And everyone is so beautiful and graceful and I just feel a little out of place. And… I… well, the waiters kept bringing me drinks, and I didn’t wanna seem rude, and the champagne knda eased how nervous I was, but then I started to feel sick, so I came out here to get some fresh air, but then I started feeling really sick and I…”
I nod my head. Ms. Doo rubs her belly tenderly.
“I hope you do not regret coming.”
“Oh no,” she quickly says. Just like that, her face has lit up with eager joy. Her eyes are glowing and she’s smiling ear to ear. “This has been… I mean, even not knowing anyone, it’s just… I can say I’ve been to the Grand Galloping Gala, you know? And it has been really awesome. I got to eat all this really delicious food and I got to meet Fleur de Lis who I’ve always thought was super beautiful and Princess Celestia actually smiled at me, and she said I look beautiful, and she knew my name… did you tell her about me?”
“No. That is just her way.”
The nervousness returns. “I just… thank you prince. Thank you for inviting me to this. I really can’t say how… how awesome it is to be here.”
“How I wish I could share your enthusiasm.”
“Something up?”
By the sun, I could use a drink right about now. “How do you do it, Ditzy? How do you not let the weight of your life get you down? Just now I saw your face glow with the joy usually reserved for foals on Hearth Warming Day. ”
She giggles. It’s that sweet sound that I enjoy hearing. I feel rather embarrassed, as if I have insulted her in some way, but she doesn’t seem bothered. “It’s like Ms. Cake always tells me, In every life there’s rainfall, but you also get some sun. I mean, sure, my life isn’t perfect, but there are good times too. There’s the time I get to be with Turner, and the time I get to be with you. Just cause something bad happens doesn’t mean great things don’t happen too.”
She scoots closer. I feel the warmth of her fur on mine. “Sorry. I’m just kinda… spinny, you know?”
“Yes dear, I know. You don’t drink much, do you?”
She shakes her head sadly. I use a hoof to rub little circles in her back, something Aunt Tia still does for me when I am sick.
“By the sun, the first time we meet, I burn you. Now I’m sick and filthy and… uck.”
“Hush, hush,” I say softly, still rubbing tender circles in her back. “You’re not nearly as bad as that Vinyl Screech. She was something else.”
“Vinyl Scratch? I read in the paper how you were seen gallivanting with her. I thought it was just the tabloids making stuff up.” She sits up and looks into my eyes. Well, one of her eyes does, the other is lazily staring in the opposite direction. “You really did meet DJ Pon-3?”
As evidence of our encounter, I take out the sunglasses that are still in my vest pocket.
Ditzy attempts to snatch the sunglasses out of the air. Unfortunately, this upsets her precarious balance. She would fall to the grass, but I use my magic to hold her up. I set her back on the bench and put the sunglasses away. Apparently they are too much stimulation for her plebeian brain. “If you would like, I might be able to introduce you to Ms. Scratch,” I say. “I need to speak to her about a business proposition.”
“Kinky,” Ditzy giggles.
“No, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s… oh, it’s stupid. Just a silly thought that has stuck with me. It feels like I have spent the past decade in nightclubs and bars. I am thinking of opening one of my own.”
Like I said, it’s a stupid idea, but it is something to do, something I think I could do well in fact. I know all the proper paperwork. I’m sure Fancy Pants would be willing to give me a loan for the start-up capital, assuming I do not have enough in my savings. I at least hope Mr. Macintosh may be willing to give me some pointers. Perhaps Vinyl Scratch would be willing to DJ on the opening night. Oh, it’s a stupid thought but…
“That’d be awesome!” Ditzy practically shouts. “What would you wanna call it? What about Azure?”
That’s not a bad idea.
Inside, the Gala is still trudging along at its agonizingly slow pace. What time is it, I wonder? How long before Aunt Tia gives her closing sermon and the party finally comes to an end? Do I have time to bring Ditzy back home? I’m sure I do, and even if I don’t, who would notice I am gone? Save perhaps Black Cloud, who seems to have an odd crush on me.
Helping Ms. Doo to walk, I hail a taxicab and promise to pay him double since it is such a long trip to Ponyville. Loading Ditzy into the cab, I climb in myself and start to relax.
“Where do you live?” I ask.
“Sugar Cube Corner. The bakery,” is Ditzy’s response.
“You live at the bakery?”
“No. Pinkie Pie does.”
By the sun. “Where do you live, my dear?”
“I wanna go to the bakery. Ms. Cake is there. She promised to wait up for me, and she promised me a muffin. I want a muffin.”
I am rather hungry, myself. When was the last time I ate? I think I had a scone with Ms. Scratch. A Bacon-Maple-Crunch Cupcake would certainly hit the spot.
During the ride, Ditzy talks, and talks a lot. She really must have enjoyed the Gala, since now she can’t stop blabbing about it. The decorations, the guest list, the food, the music, all of it swept her off her hooves and filled her with awe like she had never felt before. I sit there and listen, occasionally nodding my head to assure her I haven’t fallen asleep, even though she is a bit boring. She’s cute. Not as cute as Vinyl Scratch, but cute.
The taxi rolls to a stop. Ditzy stumbles out, groaning and rubbing her belly as she trots along. I take the time to pay the taxi driver before following her inside. The weight of the door must be too much for her frame, so I wrap an arm around her middle and use my magic to push the doors open.
A quick scan of the bakery reveals three ponies, but the only one I recognize is Mrs. Cake. The sound of the door opening breaks her out of her standing sleep, and she snaps to attention. “Oh dear,” she says as she looks at Ditzy and I. Quickly, she trots around the counter, but before she can reach us, a stallion who had been sitting at the bar comes up to me. He is not an especially large stallion, nor is he particularly well built, despite being an earth pony. I doubt he has the strength to support Ditzy, but he still tries to take her from me. I am hesitant to let her go though. She barely has the strength to stand and I do not want to see her get hurt. The earth pony casts an angry glare at me with his deep, blue eyes, a deeper shade than mine. “Give her to me,” he growls.
The shade of his eyes matches the color of Ditzy’s dress. It suddenly occurs to me why she chose to wear blue. I allow Ditzy to be taken, and she and the brown pony with the blue eyes walk to the back of the bakery.
I take a seat at the counter.
“Oh, prince, what a pleasure it is to see you again!” Mrs. Cake practically shouts. “Can I get you anything? Coffee perhaps?”
“Uhm, dear,” says the tall orange stallion, also beside the counter. “Why don’t you go see how Ditzy and Turner are doing?”
“Oh Carrot, it was just excited last time. I’ll…” Mrs. Cake sighs. “Fine. She’ll probably want a muffin. And Turner should really drink some water.”
Mrs. Cake waddles off, her ample pudge shifting and shuddering with each step. The large, tall earth pony leans against the table and gives me a smile. “So you’re the famous Prince Blueblood, huh? Been hearing a lot about you, lately. The name is Carrot Cake.”
I am about to introduce myself, when I realize that would be redundant.
“What can I get you, prince?”
“Last time I was here, I was served a Bacon-Maple-Crunch Cupcake, but I was incapacitated before I could sample its crust. Do you have any in stock?”
“Course we do. They are one of our best sellers.” He trots off and returns a minute or so later with the delectable morsel on an ornate plate.
Using my magic, I pick up a knife and fork and carefully cut a small piece of the muffin off the main body. Bringing the sample to my lips, I take it off the fork with my teeth and allow it to touch my tongue. Oh, the savory flavor melts over every one of my taste buds and sends my heart in somersaults. Each of my teeth could rot and fall from my mouth this instance, and it would be soooo worth it.
Carrot chuckles at me. “Yeah, I remember when Pinkie got the recipe just right.” He brings me a steaming hot cup of coffee and places it beside the plate. I don’t even notice it, too engrossed in the sweet heaven of the muffin in my mouth. Only when I have swallowed do I snap out of the sugar induced nirvana.
“So prince,” Carrot asks, “how has your night been going?”
A question I have so often been asked, by Rainbow Dash, by my dear Aunt Tia, by Ditzy, by Mac. A question you ask the people you care about, because you are curious about their well being. I smile to myself. “You know something,” I say. “All things considered, I’m pretty good.”