Rank: Prince - Codename: Blueblood
He was called Prince Blueblood, and he was brushing his mane. It was the evening of the Grand Galloping Gala, after all.
"Prince" indicated that he was the highest ranking unicorn stallion in service, answerable only to the Princesses themselves.
Technically, he outranked the Duchesses and Barons, but the nature of field work and espionage had shifted where the actual power lay in the last few centuries. Information assessment and correlation was far more vital than anything a lone pony could do. He'd already petitioned the Princesses to have the titles updated, but tradition still said that "a Prince of the Realm must go among the ponies"... and so it was that only an active field agent could be Prince.
"Blueblood" signified his specialization; maneuvering through high society and blending in with the upper crust. He'd done his share of wetwork, but he excelled at the soft touch: remembering names, faces, wines.
For the longest time, it had been a post exclusive to unicorns. It was sad but undeniable fact that only recently were the race barriers being cracked; 'oh, earth ponies and pegasi are to be respected, certainly! But they have their place, you know.' A flicker of distaste crossed his face at the thought, but he calmed himself by remembering that society moves ever forward, and there were fewer idiots with opinions on "inherently stronger bloodlines" or other drivel every year.
He couldn't bring himself to hope that he could manage to get a zebra approved as his successor, but he had high hopes for an earth pony cadet he'd been grooming... Blueblood the 53rd might be hornless, and what a day that would be!
Prince Blueblood the 52nd... it was ridiculous. Only unicorns could fall for such a thing! With their obsession with ancestors and lineage, no one batted an eye at more than fifty stallions, many of whom barely looked alike, all sharing the exact same name.
The earth pony division was far more sensible about it. Ponies got to keep their names, for one. Ranks were reflected by familial titles, in a way that made sense. The Granny organized everything, contacts were Cousins, and you could always, ALWAYS rely on a Brother or Sister to watch your flank. With their widespread networks of Clans and Families, they could expect a safehouse in every city and a friendly face at every trainstop, with no one questioning that a pony just happened to "have a relative from around there". The Granny in charge made sure of it, in fact.
Seeing one of their "reunions" in action, and the sheer amount of intel being shared, sifted and all of it in code as family gossip... it made Blueblood proud to be an Equestrian.
The pegasi were the public face of Equestria's forces, even more so than the Royal Guards. Who hadn't heard of the Wonderbolts? There had been a time when Blueblood had envied their straightforward hierarchy and actual names... but that had been a long time ago, and Blueblood wasn't the colt he was then.
Blueblood ran the brush through his mane one last time and steeled himself.
He was Prince Blueblood.
He had his mission.
Tonight was the Grand Galloping Gala.
He would make the Princesses proud.
•§•§•§•§•
"Archduchess!"
"Prince!"
The two unicorns were meeting in the trendiest cafe in Canterlot. Lots of exposure, ponies peering at them from every side, the occasional pop of a flashbulb from the less discrete tabloid photographers...
It put his teeth on edge, but he was a professional and had a role to play.
Prince Blueblood and Archduchess Whistle Wishes placed their orders and got down to gossiping.
"Will we be seeing you at the Gala tonight?" Something's come up. We have a mission for you at the Gala.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world!" Understood. Orders?
"Splendid... are you seeing anyone these days?" You're to meet a mare at the party. Stay close and use your best judgement.
"Oh? Trying to set me up on another blind date?" How dangerous is this expected to be, and what's the description of the contact?
"You know me, just a romantic at heart! But you'll like her, I swear." We don't expect much trouble, but it could get bad. Intel was only able to report that she's a white unicorn.
"Hm! Anyone I know?" Do we know anything more?
"Now now, I don't want to ruin the surprise!" No.
Blueblood smirked and shook his head, not saying anything. Despite a long and glorious history of rough ponies and military forthrightness, there weren't actually any code phrases for the swearing he wanted to do.
"I'll give you a hint, though... she calls herself Rarity and she likes flowers." She'll identify herself as one of the Elements of Harmony and will meet you in the gardens.
Blueblood winked at his handler and sipped his tea. Picking Rarity for the codename was quite clever; no pony in their right mind would dare pretend to be one of the national heroes, and from personal experience he couldn't imagine anyone outside of Canterlot wanting to come to the Gala. The thing was incredibly tedious even for the most dedicated socialites.
"I look forward to meeting her." Acknowledged.
The two ponies nodded to each other and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon amidst ponies none the wiser of what had taken place.
•§•§•§•§•
Blueblood scanned the garden. He'd spotted a few ponies who might be his contact as he passed through the main hall, but he knew better than to approach any of them outside of the arranged rendezvous spot. That way lay panic, screaming, international incidents and animal stampedes.
So he waited and watched. There! By the roses, mare, unicorn, white coat... normally he'd consider the tiara too much of an attention grabber for this sort of assignment, but then again it was the Gala. One year, he'd seen no less than three mares balancing their dates on their backs for the entire evening; it had been both fashionably baffling and physically impressive. A pony could get away with anything this night.
He made his approach and said the first half of the code. "Well, hello. I am Prince Blueblood."
Without missing a beat, she gave the proper response. "I am... Rarity. Oh my, what a lovely rose."
"You mean... this rose?" With the paranoia and consideration born of years of service in Equestrian espionage, he picked the rose with his mouth rather than his magic. A bit of energy saved now could mean the difference between nine seconds of a force beam or ten. Huh. Odd taste on the stem...
As he started to offer "Rarity" the rose, something clicked and he realized just how badly the evening was going to get. Spicy. Undertones of orange, with a bitter aftertaste. I know this poison.
Jerking the tainted flower away from the mare, he chewed off the rest of the stem. First thing's first; don't put anyone else at risk. Not like I’m going to get any more poisoned at this point. Still, might keep it for evidence... He thought and slipped the evidence into his collar.
A quick look at the mare convinced him that she wasn't an assassin. She hadn't flinched away when he'd started to offer her the rose, and actually seemed hurt when he'd pulled it back. Looking at the bushes, he was sure that only the one rose had been poisoned. Honestly, how was I NOT suspicious of a single rose growing out of a forget-me-not bush... ugh! He realized he hadn't said anything yet, and the mare had to be told if she was going to be of any help.
"Thank you! It goes with my eyes." Since she'd known the sign and countersign phrases, Blueblood hoped she was familiar with the standard SOS phrase for poisoning as well.
•§•§•§•§•
His horn was throbbing. That wasn't a good sign, but it at least confirmed that he was right about what had been coated on the rose. After a quick word to a "waiter" who he'd served with a few years ago in the Griffon Kingdom, Blueblood was sure no other ponies would be getting close to those particular bushes for the rest of the Gala.
Speaking of other ponies... Blueblood was starting to have second thoughts about the mare. "Rarity" didn’t seem to have recognized the SOS phrase, but that wasn’t conclusive. He'd made some small chat with her and slipped in a few code phrases, but her replies could've been pure coincidence or the smooth work of a professional.
They had drifted off the path to a clearing set aside for couples. The lanterns had been purposefully left unlit for now, to encourage a mood of intimacy. It was still more exposed than he liked, but here at least, no one would question the two of them not wishing to be overheard.
As Blueblood grabbed the last cushion and started to offer it to "Rarity," he heard a quiet click. His heart nearly stopped, and before she could move he'd planted himself on the cushion and closed his eyes in concentration. If she said something, he didn't hear it, focused as he was on trying to disarm the bomb he was now sitting on.
Stupid! Sloppy! he berated himself. If I hadn't been positioning it with my mouth, I never would've heard the trigger arming itself. It must be the poison... it's affecting me more than I realized. Why would there only be ONE cushion left in the couple's section? I even thought it seemed heavy as I brought it over!
Blueblood, skilled as he was at multitasking, still had limits. So he continued to criticize himself, do some extremely delicate telekinesis without using his eyes while toxins continued to burn in his blood and completely failed to pay any attention to the mare next to him.
•§•§•§•§•
It hadn't been easy, and using his magic had only made the throbbing in his horn worse, but he'd done it. I haven't had to disarm a bomb I was sitting on since that mission with the author and... and the weird blue... dog... thing...
Eyes closed, breathing through his nose, Blueblood tried to get his thoughts back in order. They'd started to drift after he'd plucked the rose, and it had only gotten worse from using magic. He knew what the poison was, he was sure of it (even if he couldn't remember the name of it just at the moment...) and it would take a few days before it would be fatal, which gave him plenty of time to finish tonight's mission and get the cure. Well, unless... unless... there was something. Something that reacted with the poison, made it much worse. What, though, eluded him at the moment, much like the name of the poison.
I need to figure out this mare. Who is she? If she's not not my contact, I... what? Abandon her? I have to protect her. I have my duty. If she IS my contact... can I trust her? Or is she the threat?
Spying a puddle, Blueblood decided to hit her with a string of code "Rarity" couldn't possibly luck her way through.
"Miss Rarity! Stop!" Standard code for I challenge your identity.
"Oh! Prince Blueblood! How chivalrous..." ... hm. Given the situational context, that was the standard reply for I am your contact and think we're being watched.
"One would hate to slip." I think the mission is getting too dangerous and wish to abort.
"Yes! One certainly would." We are aware of the risks, but believe it's a lone operator. The mission can be salvaged.
"One's cloak should take care of the problem..." Challenge: how committed are you to the mission?
"Oh, of course it will," and with that, she covered the spill. Absolutely.
Blueblood was convinced. It wasn't just the words; the actions were just as important. The act of actually mopping up a puddle in the middle of the floor with a part of her dress... it was the textbook answer to the contextual code. No casual party-goer would ruin their clothes for someone they just met, or even stay with them after being asked to do such a thing. She must be his contact.
He had to trust her.
•§•§•§•§•
The symptoms were definitely getting worse. The throbbing in his horn was seriously disrupting his ability to focus his magic now, he'd lost feeling in his hooves, and his throat was starting to tighten up. Not enough to kill him, that was still days away, but enough to make speaking painful. At least his memory was less muddled. The name of the poison was on the tip of his tongue now...
They'd stopped at a door. Blueblood was following the mare's lead now, but noticed that she was hesitating. He caught her eye and nodded his head at the door. Is this where we need to go?
She nodded back. Affirmative
Blueblood nodded twice, a grim look on his face. Do you expect trouble? Should we rush them?
She scowled and nodded four times, rapidly. Negative. Keep following me lead and stay alert, but do NOT engage.
Blueblood drew back a bit at that. It had been... a long time since he'd not been the lead in the field. I know relationships within the department are frowned upon, but I like this mare!
Lifting his chin in acknowledgement, Blueblood smiled inside as she put on her game face and opened the door. He took point, ready to intercept any attacks for her.
•§•§•§•§•
There had been no attacks, and so they'd moved on and had wandered through the gardens again. Blueblood kept an eye out for any ponies that were sticking a little too close. He knew the faces of most of the ponies attending, from this soirée or that fête, so he was able to focus on newcomers.
They'd finally made their way to a food cart run by one such newcomer, and- oh! An Apple... of course! Of course! Brilliant! Selling food won't raise suspicions about who approaches, she'll talk with everyone... it's a perfect way to gather and distribute intel in the field! Whoever came up with this should be the next Prince!
Blueblood was so impressed by the idea that he missed what the mares had said to each other. Some sign and countersign, with an inquiry on the last known whereabouts of their target, no doubt. As the Apple placed a couple of fritters in front of them, "Rarity" coughed to get his attention. Throat still sore from the poison, he coughed back in acknowledgement.
Apparently not loud enough, as she coughed at him and gave him a pointed look. Not sure what else to do, he coughed louder as well. I heard you already! What do you want from me? Seeing the mares talk again, Blueblood realized that the poison was further along than he’d thought... he couldn't hear what was being said from two feet away. When the Apple held up the fritters though, Blueblood figured it out. I was supposed to take the food! It would look suspicious if we left empty-hooved. Argh, I'm off my game tonight...
Seriously wondering if he'd misidentified the poison after all and considering making a run for the infirmary, Blueblood took a bite of the pastry and felt like he'd gotten a mouthful of wasps and fire. The pain was intense and instantly cleared his mind.
"Bleh! Ugh!" Spitting out the flaky crust, the sugary apples, Blueblood's mind raced.
"Fritters! Dumplings! Caramel apples?!" That was it. That was the connection. He needed to get inside, he had to act quickly. "My royal lips have touched common carnival fare! I'm going to the buffet for some... hors d'oeuvres."
•§•§•§•§•
Hors D'oeuvres.
That was her code name, in the reports. They'd never been able to establish what her name really was, and someone had been feeling puckish when they'd assigned it to her.
She was an extremist, who believed in total pastry disarmament. She'd written multiple manifestos, starting with a demand for bans on cakes, pies, and every other baked good being used in any and all Equestrian conflicts. As the years had passed and the pies continued to fly, Hors D'oeuvres had gotten more radical in her demands. Universal ban on fried foods. Enforced dietary regimens for all citizens. Violent punishment for confectioners and chocolatiers.
The first time she'd blown up a candy store had been when she was 14.
It had only gotten worse from there.
One of her trademarks was a poison that would simulate the symptoms of a bad cold. Headache. Numbness. Sore throat. Stuffy head. The poor pony would either receive a "Get Well Soon" cake from their friends, or when the symptoms went away a day later, would go out and celebrate. And then explode. Twice.
When the poison interacted with pastry, it become violently explosive.
And Blueblood had nearly swallowed a fritter.
She was here, at the Gala. She had to be, to set up the rose, the cushion. She must have been following him all night!
She had to be stopped.
•§•§•§•§•
He'd gotten separated from the mare as he'd searched the halls nearest the gardens, but spotted her again near the atrium set aside for the dance floor. Like a well-oiled machine, like partners who'd been working together for years rather than just the evening, she held the door open so he didn't even have to slow down.
She followed him in, his eyes scanned the crowd and-
•§•§•§•§•
She was yelling at him. What had happened?
His hooves were shaking. He felt weak. He could barely breathe. He only felt like that when... ah. Right.
Reflexes had taken over. Adrenaline fatigue. He'd reacted to the threat without fully processing it. If he'd been hit by that cake, it might have destroyed the entire room, along with everyone in it.
She was still yelling at him. No, she was... coming closer?! Blueblood danced backwards, desperate to not let any of the highly reactive cake touch him.
Mind reeling from an evening of poison, the near-miss with death, the adrenaline rush and the currently swiftly-advancing death, Blueblood finally got flummoxed, and said the first thing that came to mind.
"Ew! Uh, uh, stay back! I just had myself groomed!"
It wasn't code; he just had to say something to buy himself some time.
"Afraid to get dirty?!" was the last thing he heard before frosting hit him and felt like fire.
•§•§•§•§•
"Do you have anything else to report?" The Princess looked over the file before her and at the stallion in the hospital bed.
"No, Your Highness." Blueblood hurt all over, but had been told that he'd make a full recovery. He shifted, more uncomfortable about what he was going to ask than any mere physical pain. "Er, may I ask something though, Your Highness?"
"Of course." She smiled at him as if they actually were aunt and nephew, and it felt better than all the painkillers the hospital could offer.
"What happened next? I know I failed the mission, but... was anything salvaged? No one got hurt, did they?"
Celestia closed her eye and let out a small laugh. "Actually, the mission was a success. A few ponies got hurt, but not from anything you failed to do. Aside from missing your contact at the very beginning, everything went about as well as could've been hoped for."
"I- what? If I wasn't supposed to have met the other agent, who was I supposed to meet?"
"A little unicorn by the name of... "Hors D'oeuvres."
"WHAT?!"
"Apparently, she'd gotten in touch with the Agency a day ago and declared that she was going to turn herself in. She’d had an epiphany, wished to see justice done, and would hand herself over to our custody that very evening. However, she'd only do it at the Gala though and refused to negotiate on that point. It was arranged that she'd meet with an agent there, that would be you, and they would assess whether she needed to be escorted or... subdued.
"She had plans of her own, though. She intended to slip you the poisoned rose, then give you some cake in the middle of the biggest, most public event in Canterlot of the year."
"What happened after I got a face full of frosting, then? She didn't escape, did she?"
"No, we managed to capture her in the end... with a bit of luck. Immediately after you were hit, a series of small but harmless catastrophes occurred. There was some property damage, some panic... all sounding much worse than it was. I arrived at that point, and saw you, dazed and covered in cake. Having been informed of the mission earlier, I was able to make some deductions and took over the operation. I teleported you to the infirmary, secured the area, and scried the nearby grounds. I found a white unicorn sitting on top of a nearby hill, cackling about how she'd shown them, finally shown them all. I had a few words with her, at that point." The Princess paused to sip her tea.
Blueblood rested on the pillows and shook his head. Just like that, everything had been resolved better than he could've hoped for. A thought still bothered him, though. "If Hors D'oeuvres was the "Rarity" I was supposed to meet... who did I spend the evening with?"
Celestia's smile shifted slightly, but Blueblood wasn't sure what the new one meant. "Rarity."
"I know! Whoever's in charge of assigning code names needs a vacation. They're getting a bit over the top with some of them, if you ask me. Next thing we know, it’ll be nothing but “Operation: Shadow Explosion” this and “Codename: Diamondhead” that..."
"Oh, that wasn't a question. It was an answer. You spent the night with Rarity."
"... THE Rarity?" His eye twitched.
"As far as I know, there's only one, yes."
"The Element of Generosity? One of the national heroes of Equestria? That Rarity?!" He could hear the heart monitor beeping much faster now.
"Indeed."
"... maybe it would’ve been better if I had exploded after all."
The Princess laughed at that and nuzzled her "nephew". "It's not nearly so bad as you fear. With how much excitement the Elements have been facing, and how she handled herself at the Gala, I was thinking of inviting Rarity to join our little circle of friends. Once she hears about your work… your real work... I'm sure she'll be much more understanding of how the Gala went."
Blueblood could only massage his aching head and hope the Princess was right. She usually was, after all.
They talked for a while more, before some nebulous "matters of state" demanded the Princess return to court. At the last moment, she paused at the door and turned.
"Oh, by the way! It turns out that Hors D'oeuvres' name is actually Garden Wishes."
Blueblood blinked at that bit of news. "Wishes? Like, Archduchess Whistle..?"
"No relation, but yes. An interesting coincidence, don't you agree?"
Blueblood mulled it over. After all the plots and coincidences of last night, what was in a name?
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Clearly something's up if Rarity managed to stumble her way through the contact without "breaking character", as it were.
Hmm. Perhaps Rarity is also in the intelligence service? She'd be above the pay level of the rest of the Mane Six, so it's not like the show would ever have to mention it.
4097948
I do believe that was covered like, right at the end there.
Another excellent chapter. :D I do so love how you manage to make it fresh and give things your own little twist.
I'm not taking in spy-lingo right now at all.
4097948
4098367
Well, yes and no. I did invite her into the secret service at the end, but her ability to be totally misinterpreted by Blueblood throughout was supposed to just be a joke. Like "The Man Who Knew Too Little" it was supposed to be total coincidence and comedy that allowed her to be mistaken as a master spy for the entire evening.
I suppose I should've had Blueblood doubt her more, should've emphasized how opaque and easy to misinterpret the codes were... honestly, one good "The pelican flies at sunset" would've solved a lot of problems.
That being said, I was thinking of expanding the network for Blueblood. Flim and Flam are scouts, Trixie's either a rogue agent or internal affairs...
4099418
Ah! "I'm not talking in spy-lingo right now at all." The classic code for "Stop writing and get an editor"
Well, "Thank you for your comments" you... you... dang it, there aren't any code words for that.
4099981
We'll, I liked it just the way it is.
I LOVE THIS VERSION.
Well this collection of stories is very interesting so far. Though it's hard to read them all at once because it is the same basic story over and over. So I'll be stopping here and continuing another day. But you've done great so far.
I think that the Agency needs to sit down and look at its code phrases again. That an agent can get a false positive from somepony being flirtatiously polite is an enormous potential security risk.
In other news, I read Make a Wish the other day.
4310492 They also need to coordinate with the princesses, as she had sent the Elements the invites. That could have saved a lot of headache.
Agent Applejack of the Apple Intelligence Bureau. This needs to be a fic.
You're ingenious.
That pony's a spy!
4097948
4099981
To be fair, Blueblood did get suspicious at one point. Thus the cloak scene.
Oh Sweet mother of Celestia and Luna!! GRANNY SMITH IS A SPYMASTER!
Not gonna lie, my first thought was that he was going to somehow disarm it with his butt cheeks