Dear Aunt Celestia,
This is Prince Blueblood. I'm sorry this is a week late. I’m alright. I've just lost track of time since arriving in Ponyville. There is actually a surprising number of things to do in this town. Spike has been showing me around and I'm overjoyed that I have the time to play with him. I think I've even found a girlfriend. You probably know her: her name's Pinkie Pie. She's sweet, she's energetic, and she doesn’t keep anything from me.
She actually told me something very interesting recently, regarding the Grand Galloping Gala. She said that you were so bored with it that you hired her and five of her friends specifically to throw a wrench in the works. Let me say that I believe that she was being truthful when she said that you only wanted some minor mischief and that you didn't mean to give me a heart attack. I also want to point out that yes, the past five Galas have been tedious to sit through. I can't deny that. However, I still feel a little betrayed. As nice as it was to know that you'd saved my best work from the past, it still hurts knowing that you went behind my back and destroyed my work for this year, however obliquely.
Celestia stopped reading, laying her head on her desk. She looked over at the blank paper in front of her, took the quill out of the inkpot and laid it on top of the paper. Still nothing came out of it, and she laid the quill back into the inkpot.
"Oh Blueblood," she said, "what do I say to you?"
<*>
"No!"
Pinkie bopped Blueblood on the nose with a newspaper. "We do not do work on vacation," she explained, "especially when we're on vacation because of swiss-cheese heart!"
Blueblood rubbed his nose, regretting leaving the door unlocked. "I wasn't working," he explained. "I just had a few ideas for the next Gala."
Pinkie brightened up as she shoved her face into Blueblood's paper. "Oh really? Like what?"
Blueblood gently pushed her out of the way. "Just minor things, really, like decorations."
“Oh,” Pinkie said. “That centerpiece looks nice.”
Blueblood nodded. “Yes, I’m proud of that one. I can’t wait to actually make it.”
Pinkie glared at Blueblood. “You’re not making everything, are you?”
“This I actually enjoy doing,” Blueblood argued. “But yes, I will delegate what I have to.”
“Good.” Pinkie rubbed him on the shoulder. “If it makes ya’ feel better, my sister Limestone’s a really good sculptor. I could ask her to do it.”
Blueblood nodded. “And she’s just low-class enough that the snobs would cry havok. Celestia’d approve for sure.”
Blueblood scowled into the table. “You’re still mad at her,” Pinkie observed.
Blueblood snorted. "I just wish she'd been completely honest with me." He looked up at Pinkie. "I always hated when my father did that: dancing around what’s wrong, trying not to step on anypony’s tail. I can't fix everything if you don't tell me exactly what's wrong, you know?"
Pinkie shrugged. "Not really. My dad had the opposite problem. He wasn't mean about it," she clarified quickly, "he was just really blunt and he had no idea why I'd start crying after he told me what was wrong with my parties. I'd ask him a question, he’d give me an answer, that was it. He’s a lot better now, though."
“Yes, my father was the exact opposite of that,” Blueblood said. “Constantly finicky, but he was a nice person. He worked a lot, so I spent most of my time with my mother. She was a lot more easy-going and honest.” He sniffed. “At least, right before she ended a seven-year relationship by running off with somepony else and leaving my father to die of a heart attack three weeks later."
Pinkie frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” he said. “It was twenty years ago, and Celestia was a very kind mother.”
“Yeah, I guessed so,” Pinkie said, “based on how Spike and Cadance turned out. What was it like growing up with them?”
Blueblood smiled. “Well, Spike followed me around like a puppy. He takes after me a lot, including, it seems, in some of his faults. Hopefully, this little episode will keep him from needing heart surgery later. Cadance was nice, but a little meddlesome. Every so often, she’d have some idea about how to draw me out of my shell. She even tried setting me up on a study date with Twilight.”
“Wooooow,” Pinkie said. “I never heard of that. How’d it go?”
Blueblood shrugged. “Well, she didn’t mention it was supposed to be a date, so Twilight and I just worked on our homework together for two hours and left. We barely even noticed each other. What Cadance planned was always fun, but it never worked. Eventually, she stopped trying and just accepted me as I was.”
Pinkie turned pinker. “Yeah, I found that out the hard way with Marble and Maud. Marble didn’t have as much fun as you did. Maud did, though nopony really noticed. She really loves everything she does, but she has a hard time expressing it. It doesn’t really help that she only really focuses on rocks, but that isn’t the only thing she likes.”
Blueblood chuckled. “So many ponies think that about me. It’s not like all I do is work; I have hobbies.”
“You do?” Pinkie asked.
Blueblood frowned at her. “Of course I do!” he told her. “I’m the Lord Mayor of Canterlot: that requires socializing, which means interaction. In fact, I… I… well, one time, I…”
Pinkie giggled as Blueblood’s face blankened. “Alright, I didn’t get out much,” Blueblood admitted. “But I’m getting better!”
Pinkie smiled. “Eeyep!” she said. “Did you enjoy last night?”
Blueblood nodded. “Yes, I actually had some of the leftovers for lunch just now. I didn’t know you could cook like that.”
“Hey, I have a lot of talents,” Pinkie interjected. “Just because I’m a baker doesn’t mean that’s all I know how to make. Honestly, I learned how to cook cook because I started getting genuinely sick of the stuff I served.” She shuddered. “I even hated going into the kitchen with it, which was really scary ‘cause I normally like all that stuff.” Her smile returned. “So I learned some other dishes to make so that I wasn’t eating sweet stuff all the time, and now I don’t hate my job.”
Blueblood nodded. “Yes, variety is the spice of life and all. Or at least, hobbies are.”
Pinkie’s hoof had drifted to her chin. “Hmm, I wonder what life would taste like…”
Blueblood smiled at her, then reached into his mane and pulled out a book. He paused. "It's been two years since I've been able to do that."
Pinkie shrugged. "On the bright side, you've stopped sucking pillows into your mane while you were sleeping."
Blueblood pointed at her. "You know, that actually happened this morning?"
“Yeah, that was freaky as all get-out when I was three. I was scared his mane was gonna’ eat me.”
Spike had entered the room. “Hello, Spike,” Blueblood said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Spike pulled out a scroll. “You got a letter from Princess Celestia.”
Blueblood’s smile vanished. “Ah,” he said. “I see.” He took the scroll, laid it down on the table, sat down, and read.
Dear Blueblood,
I know this has been long in the coming, but I'm sorry for what I did at the Gala. I want to reiterate that I didn't intend for everything to go the way it did. I'd hoped that things had mellowed out between the Canterlot Garden Party and the Gala and that the worst part of the evening would be Rainbow Dash trying to steal seats closer to the Wonderbolts. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. I also want to re-iterate that if I had known how much you did, I would’ve stopped everything much sooner.
I still would have removed you from the Gala: you work yourself far too hard. That's something you share with your father. And with me, if I’m honest. That's part of why your father and I were so close when he was alive. If he hadn't married my niece, I might have snapped him up myself. Then I could’ve saved him from her. But then I wouldn’t have met you.
Blueblood scanned the rest of the letter, then put the letter aside and put his head in his hooves. “Everything alright?” Spike asked.
“Peachy,” Blueblood murmured.
“You sure?” Pinkie asked. “’cause you don’t look peachy. Of course, you never looked peachy, but-“
“Yes, I’m alright,” Blueblood said. “You don’t have to worry about me.” Blueblood rubbed his barrel as he leaned on the table.
“Blueblood?” Spike asked.
“It’s just indigestion from last night’s spaghetti,” Blueblood said. “It’ll pass.”
Pinkie’s knee pinched. Then her tail twitched and her ears fluttered. Then her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Blueblood,” she asked, “where’re your nitro tablets?”
Blueblood stared at her, then noticed Spike start sweating. A pit opened up in Blueblood’s stomach. “In the bathroom behind the mirror,” he told Pinkie. “Why?”
“Just stay calm!” Pinkie sped off up the stairs.
“What do you need?” Spike asked.
“Just wait,” Blueblood told him. Blueblood sat at the table staring up after her. After several seconds, she didn’t come back. Several seconds later, she still hadn’t come back. Blueblood managed to keep his breathing under control, waiting for the tightness in his chest to do something.
Then his lungs wouldn’t expand all the way. Blueblood laid his head down on the table, fighting to get all the oxygen he could into himself, but every breath gave him a little less. Then he collapsed onto the table. He tried to move, but he felt so faint that he could barely lift himself. In the process, he fell out of his chair, landing in a heap on the floor. The corners of his vision started to go black as Spike prodded his neck.
Then he saw Pinkie, eyes wide and an orange bottle in her mouth. Spike lifted Blueblood’s head up as Pinkie tilted the bottle into Blueblood’s mouth. Blueblood barely felt something drop onto his tongue. Moving his tongue felt like lifting a concrete slab, but he slowly managed to drag his tongue back, then lift it over the nitro tablet.
He was vaguely aware of being lifted. “C’mon,” Pinkie said from under him. “Hold on!” Then they sped out the door. Blueblood watched the clouds go by for half a minute, vaguely hearing Spike talking to him, then the darkness swallowed him.
<*>
Blueblood awoke in a very comfortable bed with traction bars installed. The pain in his chest had subsided. There were two ponies on his left: one straight-laced brown stallion as well as a blurry pink mare. Then the blur grabbed him and started shaking him. “ARE YOU OK?” she blurted.
The stallion, whom Blueblood recognized as a doctor, gently put his hoof in front of Pinkie and pushed her back. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
Blueblood sat up in the bed. “I’m alright,” he said.
Pinkie glowered at him. “You’re sure?” she asked. “You’re not trying to hide something until it becomes a problem again?”
Blueblood went pink. “Well,” he said, “I really thought it was heartbu...”
He trailed off as Pinkie’s scowl deepened. Then he sighed. “And I didn’t want to worry you in case it wasn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Pinkie hugged him. “Just tell me next time, OK?” she said. “You really scared us.”
Blueblood looked around the room. “Where's Spike?”
Pinkie frowned. “He’s waiting for Princess Celestia. He wasn't too eager to come in.”
Blueblood’s heart sank. “Can’t… I imagine he wasn’t.”
There was a knock at the door. Blueblood instantly straightened up. “Come in,” he said.
The doctor glared at him as the door opened and grumbled assent as Princess Celestia moved into the room. “I got Spike’s message,” she said. “Are you alright?
Blueblood’s heart sank as he nodded. “How is he?” he asked. “Spike.”
“Worried,” Celestia said. “He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he's scared of finding out that you lied to him again.”
“Not entirely," Blueblood explained. "Tell him I’m sorry and that I’m alright.”
“That would be another lie,” the doctor said. He paused for a moment, looking at everyone. When he only got silence, he turned on an x-ray light. “This is his highness’s heart,” he explained. “In case you can’t see it, it’s a little lighter than the other organs around it. This is a problem, since it means that his heart is getting thinner. The leading theory, given his… unique abilities, is that it’s stretching to close the holes in his heart. That’s good, prevents death by internal bleeding, but that also means his heart is working harder to actually pump blood, meaning it’s more likely to shut down.”
“So we should reschedule his surgery?” Celestia asked.
The doctor shook his head. “Based on how fast his heart is atrophying, that might not fix the underlying problem. Plus, his heart is so worn down by this point that it probably won’t be enough to avoid heart trouble in the future. He might need a transplant. The good news is that, thanks to the assistance of our local potioneer, we have longer to find one. Any questions?”
Blueblood said nothing; his brain had stopped working at ‘transplant’. Pinkie opened her mouth, but Celestia closed it with a frown and a shake of her head. “Very well,” the doctor said. “I’d like you to stay here for observation, your highness. In the meantime…” he produced a clipboard and placed it on Blueblood’s bedside table, “would you mind filling out your information again? Pinkie Pie was instrumental in getting you here in time, but she seems to write chicken scratch when panicked.”
“This isn’t chicken scratch,” Pinkie protested. “This is-“
“Pinkie Pie,” Celestia interrupted, “maybe you should go check on Spike. Tell him that everything is under control.”
Pinkie’s eyes widened, then she nodded. “Will do, Princess Celestia.”
She turned to the door, but then she turned back to Blueblood. “I’ll be alright,” he told her. “Pinkie Promise.”
Pinkie’s mouth tightened, but she nodded and left. Blueblood then turned to the clipboard. “Alright, let’s see,” he said out loud. “Name: Blueblood. Age: twenty-eight. Blood type: AB positive.”
“Blueblood?”
Blueblood stopped at his aunt’s voice. Then he sighed. “I know, I was wrong to cover up something so important. My brother's going to hate me.”
“He won’t hate you,” Celestia told him. “He’ll be mad at you, but only because he's worried about you. And you don’t have to worry about a lecture… I’m also guilty of keeping secrets I really shouldn’t. I understand why you did it, and I know you’re going to try harder next time.”
Blueblood frowned at his aunt for a moment, but the frown quickly faded. “Thanks,” he said. He turned back to the clipboard. “Allergies: none. Medications-“
“I can fill this out,” Celestia offered. “That way, you can rest.”
Blueblood stopped writing. Then he looked at Celestia. Then he thought it over, whether bed rest was worth shoving something onto his-
He handed the clipboard over. “Nothing’s really changed since last time,” he said, snuggling into the blankets.
“Alright,” Celestia said. She lifted the quill and wrote at top speed. “Oh, Blueblood?” She smiled. “You and Pinkie are very cute together.”
“Thank you,” Blueblood mumbled.