• Published 17th Jun 2013
  • 3,861 Views, 86 Comments

Pinkie and Bluie - Talon and Thorn

After Prince Blueblood and Pinkie Pie met at the Gala, he'd expected it to be a one off thing, like so many times before. So why is he finding it so hard to tell her that?

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Chapter 2 - Writing her

There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.

So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?

Because she was there when he needed her the most.

The next few days passed quickly for Blueblood. The members of the Night Court that had not fled to their estates for the summer were skittish, they were trying to come to terms with the new rules of the game and keeping an eye on anyone crazy enough to try and test Luna’s patience. To Bluebloods satisfaction Dirt Digger seemed to have dropped out of sight.

Still despite being busy he often found Pinkie in his thoughts, he’d just be minding his own business then he’d find himself thinking, what was she doing now? Or what would she think of this or that? It was infuriating, he’d completely changed several of his plans purely on the idea that he thought she wouldn’t like them. Why was he like this? What was it about her he found so captivating?

He needed to cut her away, excise her from his life so he could get back to being himself again. His first idea was to just return to his family estate for a few weeks, the court was officially on holiday so a visit was overdue, even if it did mean spending time with his parents. Pinkie could come to his town house if she wanted, but he wouldn’t be there, she’d get bored and get out of his life.

However, that just seemed cruel, she had helped him when he was low, he decided to write to her instead, she deserved that much at least. He could tell her that he had enjoyed her company but they just didn’t belong together. Maybe send a token of his affections, flowers, maybe dipped in chocolate, she’d like that or just skip the flowers and get her chocolate.

He was sure there would be tears on her side and although no doubt she would always think of him as the ‘one that got away’ she would eventually move on. In a few years she would probably find some earth pony commoner, a chimney sweep or blacksmith of something and probably have lots of children. She’d be happy in a low class kind of way. He brushed aside the feeling of how utterly wrong the idea of her crying was and the brief stab of anger at the idea of her being with someone else, yes he would write to her, after supper.

Tonight’s meal was a simple enough fare, a vegetable broth for starters and a soft cheese salad main course. The meal was carefully balanced by his dietician to keep his physique perfect. He sat down at the dining table feeling very small, it was designed to seat several dozen, despite the sun still streaming in the room still seemed grey, what had she called his home, ‘his big boring house’? He dutifully began to munch through the food, it tasted bland, he suddenly craved pancakes. He shook his head and started to compose the letter in his head.


Dear Ms Pie (No to formal)

Hiya Pinkie (Too far the other way, although it did sound like her)

Dear Pinkie

I appreciate the support you gave me on the night of the Gala, however, I may have mislead you as to my intentions, I have no interest in meeting with you again (Liar!) and I apologize for anything I said which might have suggested otherwise (like not saying anything when you suggested you visit this weekend just because it made Dirt uncomfortable). Although I think of you fondly (and frequently; I thought of our kiss in a meeting with Puissance. Puissance, for Luna’s sake she’s like a walking bucket of cold water) this can go no further and I cannot see you anymore, ever. (Ever, ever, ever, ever, that’s a long time.)

Yours sincerely

Viscount Prince Blueblood (The worst pony ever, who can’t even write a letter properly in his own head!)


Groaning in frustration, he looked up, there in the centre of the table was a small box, a very pink box, wrapped in sparkly ribbon and with an intricate bow on top. Had that always been there? He looked around the room, the walls were mostly white and blue, his house’s colours, maybe a little pink did brighten up the old place.

“Duty,” he called. Duty Bound, his stallionservant seemed to materialise next to him.

“Yes, Sir.” intoned the black unicorn, he had served the house of Blueblood for as long as Prince had lived and probably generations before, although elderly he had a timeless quality to him, as if he was part of the house itself and the various members were only borrowing him.

“Where did that come from?” asked Blueblood, waving a hoof at the offending box.

“It was delivered this morning, sir. It was addressed to ‘Bluie at his big boring house’, luckily the postal service was more efficient than normal and it made its way here. It has been checked for traps and came up clear so I brought it to you. A present from an admirer I assume.”

Carefully, as if it might explode at any point, Blueblood levitated the box towards himself. Once it was in front of him he tugged at the bow, the whole box seemed to open up like a flower, somehow a cloud of glitter shot up and he swore he heard a fanfare as well. Within was a single cupcake.

The cupcake was just ... her. Small and covered in lashings of pink frosting, it looked like her. It was definitely not perfect, it had been made with more enthusiasm than skill, it was subtly lopsided and some of the icing had dripped off but that just made it unique, just like her. He levitated the confectionary towards himself and sniffed, a sweet odour, like honey, filled his nose, it even smelt like her. He took a second sniff, his mouth was watering. He really shouldn’t eat it, his diet was very carefully balanced, this pink thing was probably made of pure sugar, he’d have to spend hours with his personal trainer to work it off.

It would be so bad for him.

He bit into it.

It tasted so goooood.

Another bite and it was gone, gone forever and he would write his letter and never see another like it, ever.

He growled in frustration and pushed the now empty box away.

“Is something vexing you, sir,” Blueblood stared, Duty hardly ever spoke without being spoken to.

“There is this filly,” he began.

“Your pink companion from a few days ago?”

Prince was taken aback, “You know of her?”

“I was present when she was here, but as always I was very,” the old stallion seemed to radiate pride for second, “discrete.”

“I’m trying to write to her, to say goodbye, but it’s hard.” his tone was almost a whine. “She’s just a commoner, she would do nothing for my house or my prospects, but I can’t bring myself to break things off. Has this ever happened before, Duty?”

“Certainly, many of your line have had, dalliances, with common stock, my lord. But I can only think of one case where, it went further, your uncle Caesar.”

“Caesar? I don’t have an Uncle Caesar,” replied Blueblood sounding puzzled.

“He was disowned by your grandfather long before you were born, my lord. His name has been removed from most of the family records. He married a woodcutter, I believe.”

Blueblood’s interest was piqued, “What became of him?”

“The union was not fruitful, but I believe they adopted, they were happy until they were both killed in a fire some years ago.”

“Why would he do that?” demanded Blueblood pounding his hooves on the table, “Give up all he had to live in some muddy shack in the middle of nowhere cutting down trees and then dying a meaningless death.”

“I can only tell you what he told your grandfather, sir. He said he wanted to be with her because she made him happy, my lord.” With that the old retainer turned on his heels and stiffly walked from the room, leaving Blueblood alone.

She made him happy. The words echoed around Blueblood’s head. Does she make me happy, he thought. He remembered eating pancakes with her, yes, he had been happy. A letter spontaneously appeared in his head, far easier to write than the previous one, but he still couldn’t put quill to parchment.


Dear Pinkie

You make me happy.

Please be here soon.

Yours sincerely



He couldn’t bring himself to write to her to tell him it was over, and he couldn’t write to tell her how he truly felt, both were beyond him.

What was he going to do?

There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.

So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?

Because she was there when he needed her the most.

Because she made him happy