Standing by a table with a wide assortment of tiny food items, Gilda hadn't even picked up a glass when she felt a hoof tapping her shoulder. She forced herself not to even look annoyed as she turned to see a tall, lanky, head-spike pony. She had white fur (didn't all of them?) and really light-pink hair, her faded purple eyes almost making her look like a ghost. This was probably the pony that had been watching her.
"Excuse me, Miss Gilda?"
She tried not to let the weird sense of I-see-dead-pony this mare was giving off show on her face. "Yea?"
Pale Pony smiled a little. "I am Fleur De Lis, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Ignoring that she already seemed to know her name, Gilda looked at her in surprise. "Floor Dealies?"
The Phantom Head-Spike blinked. "Y-what? No, no, Fleur De lis."
"Floor De List? Floralist? Florist? You work with flowers?"
She gave Gilda a look that said she was starting to reconsider whatever series of decisions she'd made to lead up to this moment. Regardless, she persisted. "Fleur. De. Lis."
"Floor, D-list? I don't mean to be culturally insensitive here, but you've got kind of an accent."
One of the Ghost Who Trots' eyes twitched as she spoke through gritted teeth set in a very forced smile. "Say it with me. Flooh-Or,"
Gilda played along only because of plan Best Behavior's failure to include saying things like 'Screw your stupid name, I'm just gonna call you something short and easy to remember, but adequately descriptive and kinda funny.' "Flooh-Or,"
"Dee,"
"Dee,"
"Liz."
"Liz."
The Spirit of Hearths Warming Past smiled. "Fleur De Lis."
"Floor De-"
The smile looked forced again. "You know, maybe just 'Miss De Lis' will do."
Not seeing a reason to argue, Gilda nodded. "So what'd you want to talk about, De Lis?"
Fleur let out a little sigh of relief. "You are a new-hire of one Prince Blueblood, are you not?"
Gilda had three guesses about what this pony wanted. "Yea?"
"How has your work been thus-far? Nothing too troubling, I hope?"
"Not really," the world's least body-guarding bodyguard answered with a shrug, "Prince get a lotta ponies comin' at him with baseball bats and stuff?"
Fleur's surprised expression said he probably didn't. "N-no, not that I've heard about." She seemed to realize something, looking away as her mind wandered. "Although, I suppose that could explain..." She shook her head, taking a quick look around the snack hors devoure table before determining that there wasn't anypony really paying attention to the two of them and looking Gilda dead in the eye. "Let me get straight to the point, I was there when you were hired by the prince yesterday and I'm here to help you."
And now it was getting interesting. "You wanna guard Blueblood too? Way I'm hearin' it, he barely needs one bodyguard, so-"
"No, no, help you, Miss Gilda! Whatever he offered you, whatever contract you've signed, I'm sure there's a way out if-"
"Hang on, I haven't signed a contract, haven't signed anything. Nopony's even asked me to read anything so far."
Now Fleur really was confused. Prince Blueblood was too familiar with Equestria's legal system not to have contractually tied down anyone working for him.
What could his angle be?
She knew he was up to no good, back at the gazebos, and when Gilda and Blueblood were out of sight, she'd even cried out that somepony had to help the poor griffon! She was alone in seconds. Still, she wouldn't just wait for somepony else to set things right, she'd do it herself this time! But first, she needed to know what was going on.
"Let's try this," Gilda suggested with a snap of her talons, "you tell me what's got everypony that sees me near the guy so spooked, I-" she caught herself just in time, "-I, uh... I, listen, quietly?" She forced what probably wasn't a convincing smile, but it had to look better than the vague threat she'd almost issued.
"Well," Fleur answered, "that's just the thing, nopony really knows what the prince is capable of. Not terribly long ago, he was thought to have somehow foalnapped Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Princess Twilight Sparkle all at the same time, but when they returned a day later, it was covered in the media as a horrible misunderstanding, Princess Celestia herself giving a statement that he was essentially just standing in for them, in laypony's terms."
Gilda was skeptical. "One guy took on three princesses and won?"
Fleur clicked the edge of a hoof against the floor, the equivalent of Gilda's talon-snap. "That's just it! Initially, everypony was talking about how he had viciously seized power, but in hindsight, he had the perfect alibi. He never came out and officially said he had abducted anypony, the story of a lone unicorn overpowering even one of them was absurd, and he already had something more believable at the ready, backed up by none other than his supposed captives! I suppose there's a chance it might have been true, strange things do happen, but can you name anyone in history to get away with something like that?"
That was pretty fishy. Either they didn't do a good job of sending memos around here or Blueblood somehow intimidated the princesses into keeping quiet about the whole thing. There was no clucking way he was just stronger than them. Blackmail? Deal with Discord? Wasn't he supposed to be working for the princesses now too? Luckily, De Lis seemed to know stuff. "So, any clue how he pulled that off, or...?"
"None, but that isn't what really worries me. The most unsettling issue is that, in his one-day reign, Prince Blueblood did nothing with his newfound power. No decrees were made, no laws were changed, it was as if he'd all but taken the day off while the princesses were away." She nibbled worryingly at her lower lip for a moment, looking around for any sign of him or one of the ponies in black suits known to draw his attention. "He must have done something in that time, and nopony knows what. Whatever his plans, it's possible you are the next step, whatever that may entail."
"Uh-huh..." Okay, so being all sketchy is just his usual thing. Maybe he's got an M.O. I can keep an eye out for? "What's he actually been caught doing? No ambiguity, no misunderstanding, the factual rap sheet."
Fleur sighed. "Very little. The prince has been exceedingly careful in his dealings up to now, but, well..." She brushed a hoof along the underside of her muzzle, only one incident popping into her mind. "There was his outburst shortly after the chaos of the Grand Galloping Gala. After the animals had been cleared out and things had started to quiet down again, those who hadn't fled were subjected to an un-earthly display of profanity after he stepped on a shard of broken glass. I wasn't present for this, but those recounting it say it would make harlots blush and hardened pirates stunned silent, that if he were present, King Sombra would have stopped what he was doing and taken notes!"
"I know who that is, and you're exaggerating."
"Well, that's how the legend goes." Fleur glanced about, as though afraid she were being watched. "At any rate, I suppose there may not be an immediate problem, but for your own sake and perhaps that of all Canterlot, please be careful."
And then she slunk away, leaving Gilda to finally nab a damn drink. Regrettably, it looked like Phoenix Down wasn't old enough for booze yet, so she made due with some fruity punch. Or something. Red crud in a bowl. It was precisely as fruity as it smelled, the sheer intensity of concentrated... stuff, making her shudder a little. She quickly flapped both wings -not an uncommon gesture back home- to steady herself while her tongue came to its senses, but for the rest of her life, this would be what she believed the color red tasted like. Then she got that being-watched feeing again. Glancing around, she found more than a few ponies looking her way with something between discomfort and disgust.
She shrugged. Maybe I wasn't supposed to drink that? But it's in a punch bowl! Got a ladle and everything!
It was while she looked for something else to slake her thirst that she heard a voice from behind her. One that sounded like it had spent too long sucking on one of those Buffalo peace-pipe things out in the desert.
"Heya, what brings you here?"
Gilda turned to see another Wonderbolt uniform being worn by a light-blue mare with bright, even-ghostier-than-De-Liz-white hair, done up in spikes. Whether that was due to wind or a stylistic choice, she didn't care to ask. "I'm the prince's bodyguard." It was during the split-second that Gilda glanced around for him that she decided not to ask if she'd seem him recently.
PointyMane McChainsmoker chuckled. "Bet that's fun. This is a party, so I won't ask about work, just wanted to say it's nice to somep-ehh..." There was a flicker of a sheepish smile. "Sorry, somebody reminding this town that wings come with feathers."
"...What."
Chokey-Smokey-Big-Mane-Pokey gestured to the floor around them, pointedly at the four or five feathers Gilda had shed when she flapped her wings. "That, how normal wings aren't Prench coats that never shed? That stupid, unspoken rule that says you can't let a single down fall without making a scene? Fascist crap, if you preen your wings well enough that you can still fly, it shouldn't matter if you lose a feather or two!" She shook her head, "Dang, ain't here to rant, either," then stuck out a hoof, "name's Fleetfoot!"
Gilda lightly wrapped a talon around the hoof to shake, quietly wondering how ponies adopted such a thing in the first place. "Gilda. What was that about fascist crap?"
Fleetfoot, whose name was marginally easier to pronounce than De Liz's, snorted. "Control, gotta 'keep everyone in line' or whatever, rules on everything, stuff you wouldn't think twice about getting ponies to look down their snouts at you for being normal. S'like, fur and hair fall out all the damn time, so they need to be swept up anyway, but with feathers, it's just a lot more noticeable, so they act like you're outright littering by having less than perfectly-groomed wings!"
"Ohh, that." It came up in some of the swankier places Cash took her to, how she was making a mess that the ponies who wouldn't actually have to clean up themselves got the angriest about. Maybe something to bear in mind for Canterlot. "Before we go any further," she thumbed over her shoulder at the table, "you know if any of this doesn't taste like a scented coloring book?"
The slightly hoarse Wonderbolt smiled a little. "You must be looking for the adult table. Honest Heart probably doesn't want his little filly getting drunk or anything, but the real drinks are over here."
And with that, Fleetfoot led the way. They talked a little more about feathers, how most of the Wonderbolts wore their suits to public events mainly so they could focus on their wings and not worry about meticulously grooming their coats while they were at it, and Fleetfoot's theory about some kind of borderline conspiracy to repress pegasi, griffons, and anything else with wings. Something about insecurity from those whose feathers didn't come in as fast and seeing others with plumes to spare made them feel inadequate or something, Gilda had kind of stopped listening by the third glass of champagne. Tasted better than Red, that was for sure. Somewhere along the line, Fleetfoot got called over by... somepony. Gilda couldn't have cared as she sipped from another glass.
Never understood Dash's fascination with those guys. I fly because it's awesome, not to wear a suit!
She nursed this thought with another glass. This stuff was way bubbly! Where was Blueblood? She was starting to feel a little... What was that word, when you were all sleepy, but awake? And kinda dizzy? Another glass would surely help her think.
Nope.
Wait, yes!
She had an idea; if Blueblood was hoping she'd go making non-feathery messes (or maybe those too), she'd just go to sleep! It wasn't like she could do anything bad during a nap, so that was what she'd do!
Hah, I'm a genius.
---
When the prince finally returned, he immediately noted the relative quiet of the celebration area. A quick look around helped to determine that it wasn't because of him this time, so he wondered if one of the Element Bearers was in town.
And wouldn't that just be delightful?
Nopony looked the least bit alarmed, but voices were definitely low. It was odd. Perhaps there had been-
"Hey, Blueblood."
He stopped, but didn't turn his head. "Hello, Captain."
As usual, Spitfire had to circle around so they could speak face to face, but she did love a challenge. "When you pick a guard, you sure get the right one for the job. Any chance I can borrow you for a bit the next time recruiting season swings around?"
The second hook was ignored. "Miss Gilda is performing well as security, I take it?"
"Well, kinda. She actually curled up and went to sleep a little bit ago, right in the middle of the floor, and nopony's had the stones to wake her." Smiling, she turned her head in the direction of the sleeping sentry. "Birthday Girl kinda smiled and said she was guarding all of us, that she'd wake if something dangerous happened. It was cute, so I think that's why nobody's raising a fuss." She looked straight back at the prince in response to a very short laugh from behind her, finding him wearing a tiny hint of a smile and apparently speaking through clenched teeth to keep it that way.
"Did she, now? Yes, I suppose that would keep things peaceful, but I really must collect her and be off. If you'll excuse me."
Spitfire blinked twice as Blueblood paced toward his dozing bodyguard, but she recovered from her surprise in time to trot along after him anyway. As long as he was in the party area, he was fair game. That was how parties worked. Besides, she wanted to see how waking up the griffon said to have flown into a rage the other day would turn out. A few ponies watched as they stopped in front of Gilda, who looked a lot like a big, half-feathered housecat.
"Miss Gilda," he said while lightly shaking her with a hoof, "wake up, time to get going." She let out a standard-issue drunken grumble, making Spitfire giggle.
"From the look of that glass over there, I think she might've just had a few too many, found somewhere cozy, and gotten comfortable." Her eyes half-lidded, she turned to Blueblood, casually leaning on him with a foreleg. "Doesn't sound like a bad idea, don't you thi-"
She, Blueblood, and quite a few party guests were startled by Gilda springing up from where she'd lain, looking squarely at Spitfire with piercing, slightly bloodshot eyes. Spitfire took a quick step away from the princess's nephew, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "Not trying anything, all cool here."
The area was dead silent as Gilda stared at her, slowly raised a claw, and snapped her talons in a manner that left one pointing at Spitfire. "An' let that be less'n to ya."
Another quiet moment followed before Spitfire giggled, turning to a visibly perplexed Blueblood. "Like I said, sure can pick 'em!"
"I-indeed..."
The normal, noisier air of the party bled back in a few seconds later. Truth be told, Gilda was only barely awake when she'd half-opened an eye and saw a blur that vaguely looked like a sky-blue pegasus with a messy mane, which was why she'd gotten up so quickly. That she apparently interrupted some kind of maybe-attempt on her boss was dumb luck, which was the best kind of luck. Maybe. Thinking was wobbly right now. How did she get here?
---
It was only while they were leaving through the long, long walkway through which they'd come in that Blueblood said anything to his occasionally stumbling employee. "You're plastered."
She replied without looking at him. "Pfft, did not."
If she had been less focused on pushing the ground (the entire planet!) away from her face by keeping up a halfway-reasonable walking pace, she might have noticed the amused grin Blueblood wore for most of the trip back to the castle.
---
Gilda's eyes shot open in the middle of the night. Having somehow found the extra-cushy bed she'd been in the morning before wasn't what bothered her so much as something that happened earlier.
HolycrapIthinkIthreatenedaWonderbolt!
AndIgotawaywithit!
...Sweet!
And then came sleep.