From Canterlot With Love

by MrSuffix

Chapter Three: Vanity Fair

Chapter 3: Vanity Fair

Fancy Pants tucked his shoulder under the gray stallion's chin and shoved his opponent up onto his back legs. Both of Fancy Pants' hooves pounded the other pony's ribcage several times before the Ironsides fell back on his haunches, kicking with both hind legs into the dusk agent's stomach. Fancy Pants staggered back as the much larger earth pony rolled to his hooves again.

“You're quick on your hooves for a hornhead.” The gray earth pony sneered. “I didn't expect any of Celestia's pawns to track me after that jump.”

“If you think you're dealing with a pawn -” Fancy Pants ducked under Ironsides' sweeping haymaker, cracking the saboteur's other elbow with the side of his hoof, “You're gravely mistaken!” As the false doctor's leg buckled and he fell forward, Fancy Pants shifted his weight and brought the force of his entire body down on the back of Ironsides' neck. The dazed earth pony struggled to rise, but Fancy Pants bucked him in the sternum with both back hooves. Ironsides crashed into the wooden table in the center of the office, falling through it and leaving it in splinters. A strange green orb, about the size of a tennis ball, rolled out of the wreckage, stopping next to the doorway.

Fancy Pants advanced on the fallen pony, whose eyes were closed. His steel-colored barrel rose and fell with his shallow breathing, and the light from windows fell across the mark on his flank for the first time – a seven-petaled white flower sprouting from a pentagon of parched soil. As Fancy Pants eyed the mark, brow furrowed, the equine's hooves wrapped around the largest fragment of table, a four-by-five piece of jagged wood, and broke it across the side of the unicorn's body.

Fancy Pants was spun around in a half circle, and a pair of gray hooves wrapped around his neck. Ironsides heaved the white stallion bodily into the air, throwing him against the flimsy sheet metal of the wall. The structure caved slightly, sagging with the impact.

“My father named me Ironsides after I survived being crushed by a falling tree at eleven months.” The gray stallion growled, stalking towards his stunned prey. “It'll take nothing less than a charging minotaur to put me down.” Fancy Pants, seeing double, aimed a spell, his horn glowing. The brute charged, hitting the unicorn as he fired off a burst of searing golden energy, the beam wildly tracing across the far wall.

Something in the superstructure snapped, weakened by the aggressive magic, and the entire office lurched to one side, the shattered bits of table tumbling to the now-lower left corner. At first the workhorses below took no notice, but the sound of rending metal soon overpowered the din of the factory room. Startled ponies stared mutely upwards as the office detached from the ceiling, the staircase crumpling beneath it as it fell. Jagged sheets of metal were torn away from the roof, tumbling towards the dumbfounded ponies. Shocked into action, they turned and ran.

Ironsides hit the office ceiling with a sickening crunch. He felt his shoulder pop out of joint and grimaced as a shard of wood punched through the thick hide of his back. Four hooves landed on his stomach. Fancy Pants dropped on him, forcing all the air from his lungs. The agent rolled away before his opponent could retaliate. As Ironsides struggled up on his one good leg, Fancy Pants kicked him hard in the jaw, and then swept his hoof under the bruiser's knee, sending him crashing down once more. The white stallion darted away once more, barely finding time to brace himself against the walls before the room hit the ground.

Dust settled on what was left of the office. The fall had ripped the room asunder, cleaving it down the middle and crushing the remaining halves. Sharp metal stalagmites jutted out of the ground like the broken teeth of a beaten boxer, punctuated by tartar composed of ink, paper, and splintered wood. The clock over the door hung almost comically off the remnants of the doorframe, spinning slowly as it coughed out a hollow, wracking tone.

A pile of rubble burst in a volcanic shower of golden sparks, and Fancy Pants stumbled into the sunlight. Dimly, he heard the muted shouts of the rescue ponies pouring into the factory, pegasus spotters flying by overhead as unicorns summoned triage tents and earth ponies muscled through the perimeter of wreckage. The agent's breath pounded in his ears, and he shook his head to clear it. A minor healing spell trickled down from the tip of his horn, easing his aching muscles and leveling out the audial contrast.

Several heavyset stallion rescuers picked their way through the mess, catching site of Fancy Pants and hurrying forward, shouting to him, but the socialite ignored them, his eyes focused on a trailing of blood running down one of the jagged edges of a forcefully retired wall and weaving away towards the back of the factory. He pursued the crimson guide, still a bit unsteady on his hooves, and presently emerged from the disaster area on the far side. There he found the body of a unicorn rescuepony, a young green stallion, barely out of colthood, stripped of his hardhat and barding, his neck twisted at a disturbingly impossible angle. A set of bloody hoofprints traveled a bit further before being blotted out by the soot and dirt of the factory floor.

___

“...and aside from the tragic accidental death of Clover Leaf, one of the rescue ponies on sight, there were no serious injuries. Princesses Celestia and Luna have extended their heartfelt condolences to Clover's loved ones. Vance van Vendington, Canterlot's premier auctioneer, has graciously donated the proceeds from his recent reconstruction charity to Clover's family. In times like these, we encourage everypony to hold tight to those dear to them...”

Fancy Pants let the newspaper slide onto the table, a tight feeling in his chest. He sipped the tea Luna's attendants had brought him, the rich, autumnal flavor lost on his numb tongue. The Moon Princess sat across the table from him, her legs tucked beneath her, inscrutable eyes watching him intently.

“Degraded soldering on the support structure may assuage the public's curiosity for the time being, but no doubt the Architects will want to do a follow-up investigation.” The agent pursed his lips.

“No doubt,” Princess Luna echoed, shifting slightly as she tossed her head, “I have given Celestia a commission project that should keep them busy for at least long enough to fabricate some evidence to corroborate our story – those statues of her are obscenely detailed, after all.”

“Did we recover anything from the homunculus?”

“No.” The tightness in Fancy Pants chest increased as Luna continued. “The saboteur did his job well, none of the samples survived.” The princess took a breath, frustration furrowing her azure brow. “We did manage to recover the orb you mentioned, the one your quarry was communicating through.” As she spoke, her horn glowed, and a sheet of parchment crossed the table, gently bumping against Fancy Pants’ porcelain saucer. He set the teacup down and lifted the page. In the center was a masterful sketch of the admittedly simple orb, flanked on either side by detailed magical analyses of its inner workings.

“A modified scrying orb?” Fancy Pants lifted his monocle to his eye, sending out a mental command to the lens to record every detail of the document as he perused. “Designed to enable two-way voice communication over long distances – your Highness, this is unprecedented.” He looked up from the brief, eyes meeting with Luna’s. “If we could reverse engineer this technology, we would be able to coordinate our operations across the country with much greater effectiveness.” To date, all instructions he had received from the princess had been communicated by courier delivery or left in dead drop sites. The turnaround for new intel and orders, while streamlined by years of practice, was slow.

“This could be even faster than Celestia’s link to Twilight Sparkle.” Fancy Pants’ raised his eyebrows, and Luna caught the gesture. “Princess Celestia has been able to send letters to her student, Twilight Sparkle in Ponyville and receive responses within minutes. Such magic is beyond me, unfortunately.” There was the slightest hint of something, perhaps envy, in the princess’s tone, as if remembering another time.

“Have we been able to establish a link to the other side?” Fancy Pants’ inquired, hoping to pull his superior’s thoughts away from her sister.

“We have not.” Luna seemed to return to the present, the moment forgotten as quickly as it arrived. “Whomever your target was communicating with has most likely cut ties with this particular device for good. As far as this particular investigation goes, we have arrived at another dead end.” Fancy Pants closed his eyes, frustration surging through his chest. It must have shown on his face, because when he opened his eyes, Luna was quite close to him, their muzzles almost touching. His heart thumped hard in his chest, suddenly alert.

“We shall get another chance.” Luna breathed, barely above a whisper. “Take heart. Do not despair. Our enemy has not finished with Miss Rarity yet. Keep her safe.”

Fancy Pants nodded. Luna held his gaze a moment longer before turning away, and Fancy Pants discretely exhaled, surprised to discover he had been holding his breath. “Thou are dismissed.”

The agent lingered for a moment, his eyes on the starry mane flowing from his lady’s neck, and wondered if she felt any of the things he felt, if their closeness meant as much to her as it did to him. At times he felt so sure, and yet he stayed his hoof, to preserve the professionalism between them. He regarded her as a friend, one of the closest he had, one of the only ponies in the world to see him as he was.

___

Rarity had gathered a rather large following amongst the Canterlot elite. A number of ponies had taken to following her about, mirroring her choices and opinions, be they on the quality of pieces of artwork or what hors d’evoures to consume. A social function hardly passed without her making an appearance.

Just a short time before he left for Fillydelphia, Fancy Pants had purchased a sky yacht, painstakingly constructed by Canterlot’s artisans as a party vessel for the rich and famous. It was finally finished, and the most important pony in Canterlot was throwing a maiden voyage party, complete with christening. Naturally, everypony who was anypony would be there, and Rarity would be attending in the coveted role of Guest of Honor. It would be she who performed the actual christening.

Rarity gazed up at the massive vessel, for a moment forgetting the cluster of sycophants around her. She stifled an excited giggle; it wouldn’t do to let the aristocrats know exactly how elated she was. Guest of Honor – and on a luxury yacht! A shiver of pleasure caused the fur on her spine to stand on end. “What a beautiful little boat.” Her statement was met with murmurs of assent from her admirers.

“What a beautiful little ship, my dear.” The voice that spoke did so with utter surety, arrogance, and no small amount of self-satisfaction. It was a tone that took Rarity back almost nine months, to the Grand Galloping Gala.

“Prince Blueblood.” Rarity turned, inclining her head slightly, teeth gritted. The surrounding nobles bowed. The tall white stallion, blond mane perfectly groomed, flashed a smile that would have swept any less grounded mare off her feet (and Rarity had to admit, she had once been much less grounded). “It’s so… good to see you again.”

The prince’s brow furrowed, his blue eyes scanning her face. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Rarity was about to remind him exactly the terms on which they’d last spoken, but caught herself. The prince was not jesting, that much was clear – at any rate, she suspected he was not sharp enough to feign ignorance simply to irritate her. Instead, she smiled. “We met briefly at the Magic Exhibition in Manehattan six months ago. I’m sure you don’t remember, you were quite busy at the time.”

“Ah, yes, of course, the Magic Exhibition.” Blueblood nodded knowingly. Rarity nearly sighed in relief, once again catching herself. She really was getting quite good at that. Applejack would not be pleased, but she seemed so far away now. “If you’ll accompany me, Guest of Honor, we can begin the festivities.”

It was Rarity’s turn to look confused. “But shouldn’t we wait for Fancypants? Isn’t this his party?”

“Of course, you haven’t heard.” Somehow, the Prince managed to turn the simple statement into an insult. “Fancy Pants was held up in an audience with the Princesses. He asked us to start without him.” Blueblood turned away, looking over his shoulder. “If you’ll join me on the pedestal, we can begin.”

Fancy Pants was meeting with the princesses? Rarity was taken aback. She knew Fancy Pants was important, but apparently she was unaware of exactly how important. A thought struck her: She had no idea what Fancy Pants did. Perhaps he was an adviser of some sort?

“Ahem.” The Prince’s voice cut through the mare’s musings. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking at her impatiently. He jerked his head towards the tower. Nine months had done little to improve his charm. Rarity took a deep breath, letting her frustration slip away. She was not about to let the arrogant chaffburner ruin this beautiful day. She was Rarity, Element of Generosity, and looking fabulous, if she did say so herself. Not even the reminder of the worst date in Equestrian history could diminish that. She exhaled and opened her eyes, following the Prince up the steps.

___

Fancy Pants arrived minutes after Rarity let the bottle swing, his customary tuxedo exchanged for a rough navy jacket over a knitted grey turtleneck sweater. Atop his head sat a peaked cap, navy and white with a black brim, a black shield bearing a golden anchor sewn on the front.

The yacht was just loading its passengers, and Rarity was standing off to the side of the boarding ramp, uncharacteristically alone. As the agent approached, his favorite party guest caught sight of him, a smile that was more than just acknowledgement – relief, perhaps – touched her muzzle.

“My sincerest apologies, Miss Rarity,” Fancy Pants bowed slightly, “I had intended to join you for the christening.”

Rarity brushed the remark aside with a wave of her hoof. “No need to apologize – I understand a meeting with their majesties cannot be rushed.” She turned towards the gangplank, missing Fancy Pants’ moment of confusion. “Shall we?”

The socialite regained his composure in a heartbeat. “After you, my dear.”

As they climbed the ramp, neither noticed the pair of gleaming yellow eyes that gazed at them from the gaggle of nobles congregating near the prow.

___

The party was in full swing. The yacht was flying low over the countryside just south of Canterlot, the sun was shining bright and clear, and the aristocrats were busily mimicking their betters. Secretly, Fancy Pants was glad everything was going so smoothly. After the string of disappointments – losing the first and second killers, the scrying stone leading to another dead end – it was oddly relaxing to return to his cover life and lay low for a bit. He found himself genuinely enjoying the superficial nattering of his fellow nobles. Rarity was on the bow, the center of attention, basking in the glow of approval from the other ponies. She was just finishing a joke about bovine accents, and in the cascade of laughter that followed, the fashionista beamed. Her eyes met the agent’s and held them for a long moment. Those beautiful eyes told a tale of simple gratitude, and for the first time in what seemed like years, Fancy Pants felt genuinely at peace. At least something good had come of this – he had made a young girl happy. It was not often his job allowed him to feel appreciated.

Fancy Pants excused himself from the conversation he was half-listening to and stepped up on the raised platform just in front of the helm, clearing his throat. The conversations quieted and everyone turned their attention towards Canterlot’s most important pony.

“Greetings, assembled friends and comrades, and welcome to my new yacht, the Red Herring!” Fancy Pants paused for a moment, waiting for the applause to die down. “I’m sure you’ve all been looking forward to this as much as I have, and it is my hope that you all enjoy yourselves immensely!” The stallion gestured with a hoof to Rarity, standing in the assembled crowd. “I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge my Guest of Honor, Rarity. I met Rarity in the marketplace a few days ago, and in the time since I can say with utter certainty that she has proven herself a mare of grace, impeccable taste, and if I may be so bold, astonishing beauty.” He thought he detected the slightest hint of a blush beneath Rarity’s big, blue eyes. “This is a pony that will go places. Be sure to keep your eyes on her.”

As he spoke these words, his eyes drifted slightly, to the pony standing just behind the beaming mare. The gray stallion, golden eyes gleaming and a satisfied half-smirk on his face, orange mane tied back in a loose braid, wearing a spotless tuxedo jacket.

Fancy Pants paused a moment too long, and the crowd started to murmur. Rarity looked suddenly worried, concerned eyes searching her host’s face. The tense moment passed, and Fancy Pants finished. “She is a rising star. Rarity!” The nobles applauded, and the unicorn’s face lit up like a filly on Hearth Warming’s Eve.

___

Fancy Pants approached Ironsides, muscles tensing reflexively – he couldn’t engage the powerful earth pony in the middle of the crowd, not without destroying his cover. The saboteur was talking animatedly with Jet Set and Upper Crust, two of the most odious of Canterlot’s elite. As Fancy Pants approached, Jet Set turned to acknowledge him.

“Good to see you, Fancy Pants – such a lovely party.” The black-maned stallion elongated the ‘o’ in ‘lovely’, stretching the word at least two syllables farther than it was meant to go. “We have someone we’d like you to meet.” He led the host over to where his wife was tittering over some joke Ironsides had just made.

“Fancy Pants,” Upper Crust cooed, gesturing to Ironsides, “allow me to introduce Spring Bloom, an important visitor from Manehattan. Spring Bloom, this is Fancy Pants, our esteemed host.”

“My my, all the way from Manehattan?” Fancy Pants smile did not reach his eyes as he nodded pleasantly to Ironsides. “What business brings you to Canterlot, Spring Bloom?”

“The business of succession, I’m afraid,” Ironsides sighed softly, “Unfortunately, my late uncle has passed away, leaving his company, The Pony Express, in my hooves – perhaps you’ve heard of us?”

“The mail delivery company, of course, I remember now. My sincerest condolences to your family.” Fancy Pants turned Jet Set and Upper Crust. “Would you both be so kind as to give me a moment alone with our new neighbor?”

“But of course, Fancy Pants. Enjoy the party, Mr. Bloom!” Upper Crust had to tug her husband away from their host with a tiny burst of pale blue magic.

“Spring Bloom?”

“My mother’s name for me.” Ironsides said by way of explanation.

“That’s a fairly bold play, coming to confront me in the open.” Fancy Pants kept his expression friendly. “If you think I’ll hesitate for even a second to throw you over the side of this boat just because there are witnesses, know all that will mean is a little extra paperwork for me.”

“Oh, no – the scary Night Agent is going to toss me off the ship.” Ironsides’ voice was savage, though he retained his genial smile. “Discord preserve us! Relax, Agent. If I wanted a fight I’d have taken you out before you got on the yacht. I’m here to talk.”

There was an icy pause, while around them the blizzard of the party continued to whirl. The two enemies stood there, smoldering eyes locked, confident, easy smiles on their faces. Had anypony stopped to notice, they could have cut the tension between them with a knife.

Fancy Pants finally responded, “Talk, then. You have my undivided attention.”

Ironsides gestured slightly with his head, and Fancy Pants followed him to the edge of the ship. The gray stallion gazed out across the fields and rolling hills, towards Ponyville, and the Everfree Forest beyond. “Your princess, Celestia, is not the godlike figure her subjects seem to believe. She may seem to rule with a benign hoof, but this is a lie, and she allows atrocities to occur under her watch.” He glanced sidelong at the agent, who watched him intently. “Did you know that just a month ago, a farm in Ponyville was nearly stolen by a pair of con artists? The Mayor, charged with guarding citizen’s wellbeing, facilitated the illegal competition. That farm had been in the family for more than one hundred years, and if it hadn’t been for the common ponies rejecting the two buffoon’s faulty product, they would have waltzed in and forced the Apples into homelessness. The Mayor did nothing. Of course, she was more than willing to accept money from that same family to fix the town hall – money for a public building that should have been allocated to her by authorities in Canterlot.”

“So this is your justification for attempting to assassinate a mare from Ponyville?” Fancy Pants shook his head. “You’ll have to do better than that, Ironsides. I’m not buying it.”

Ironsides ignored him. “My father served on Celestia’s Royal Guard, as I’m sure you know by now.” He glanced at Fancy Pants, observing his stoic façade. “You didn’t? Well, there you go. My father was a pegasus – First Lieutenant Graywing, serving directly under Guard Captain White Knight.” Fancy Pants knew White Knight was the captain before Steel, Shining Armor’s predecessor. “Old Graywing never forgave me for being born an earth pony, as I couldn’t follow in his footsteps. I tried so hard to please him, but nothing I ever did was good enough. The only time I ever saw him smile was the day I earned my cutie mark – the day he gave me my name.”

“I left home as soon as I was old enough. Father didn’t even say goodbye. Mother begged me not to go, but I couldn’t stand living with the old chaffburner any longer. She died soon after I left. I didn’t even go to the funeral.” There was a touch of regret in Ironsides’ tone. A solitary green leaf fluttered past on the breeze. “I went to Manehattan, where I fell in with Straight Flush and his gang. I’ve always been resilient, and he employed me as a fighter in the underground rings. They were dismantled a few years ago.”

Fancy Pants knew this, too – he had been primarily responsible for taking apart Straight Flush and his Aces operations.

“I saw things in Manehattan – rulers abusing their power to gain more, empires built on the backs of the little pony. Gradually I realized my father was the product of this flawed system, kept in place for over a thousand years by your great Sun Princess – a princess who imprisoned her own sister on the moon.”

“That’s a tragic little story, Ironsides.” Fancy Pants kept his voice neutral, lowering it slightly as a pair of nobles trotted past. “You still haven’t given me a reason not to let gravity inform me what color your insides are.”

Ironsides rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to impress anyone now, Fancy Pants. I could have killed you when the factory collapsed, but I didn’t. You’re strong, but you can’t beat me in a straight fight.”

Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “When did I give the impression it was going to be a straight fight?”

“Just leave Rarity alone for a few hours tomorrow, at midday. We’ll do the rest.” Ironsides smiled grimly. “Do that, and soon the princess and her mockery of a government will fall. You can’t be blamed. You can help us change the world.”

“Who is ‘us’ exactly?”

“Does it matter? Concerned citizens.” Ironsides chuckled. “You would be a great asset, and one I would hate to waste.”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought in the last ten seconds, and my answer is a firm and resounding negative.” The boat swayed gently, and Fancy Pants feigned stumbling sideways into his guest. His left foreleg hooked around Ironsides’ neck, the other locking across his windpipe. As he squeezed, while the earth pony fell against the railing, bracing himself with both front hooves, the socialite brought his face close to that of his adversary. “What I am wondering, however, is why you thought such a weak and poorly formed argument would sway a loyal servant of the crowns like myself?” Ironsides’ grimace turned into a grin, this one feral and triumphant, and a chilling thought struck the agent. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No.” He rasped. “But it’s too late to save your little Element now.” He thrust his head forward, cracking his formidable skull against the unicorn’s muzzle. One of his front hooves struck the agent in the ribs, and Fancy Pants released him, stumbling back. “If you hurry you might be in time to clean up the mess.”

Fancy Pants regarded him for a moment, then turned and galloped across the deck. Chuckling, Ironsides turned back to the Equestrian panorama. He pulled a candied hazelnut out of his breast pocket, popped it in his mouth, and crunched away contentedly.

___

As Rarity stood on the deck, basking in the affirmation of her admirers, she glanced out over the starboard bow and saw Ponyville, her home, small and innocuous in the distance, on the fringes of the Everfree Forest. Her thoughts carried her back there for a moment, to her friends, particularly Twilight, who was responsible for the kind offer that had brought her here. I really must get to work on that dress I promised her. Rarity gently shook her head. As long as she was here, she might as well enjoy herself; she would get started as soon as she returned to her suite in the castle.

“Pardon me, Miss Rarity,” Prince Blueblood spoke from just behind her. The other nobles bowed.

Putting on a tolerant expression, Rarity turned to the pony she had once regarded as her one true love. “Your highness seems to have a knack for sneaking up on a pony.” Frankly, the Prince was the last stallion she wanted to see right now. As casually as possible, she scanned the deck for Fancy Pants; their esteemed host was engaged in an amiable chat with Jet Set, Upper Crust, and a pony she didn’t recognize.

“I do pride myself on my stealth and cunning,” The prince flashed a pearly white smile, and some of the noblemares giggled like fillies. Rarity could hardly keep from rolling her eyes. “If I may, I’d like to borrow you from your friends for a moment… in private.” The sultry tone in his voice left little room to doubt the Prince’s intentions. The violet-maned mare could have gagged.

“As tempting as your offer is,” Rarity put as much con into the word as she dared, “I am afraid I shall have to decline. You see, my friends and I are quite thirsty, and there’s a very nice breeze close to the bow. Good day, your majesty.” Without waiting for a reaction, the fashion designer turned on hoof and marched towards the concession stand, ignoring the gasps and murmurs of her followers. They filed after her, leaving the awestruck Prince standing awkwardly by himself, jaw hanging open.

Rarity allowed herself a tiny smile. That felt good.

She helped herself to a bit of the punch, the gaggle of mares and stallions around her following suit. As she sipped daintily from her glass, a gray pony wearing a top hat and monocle, one who had introduced himself yesterday as Herald, sidled up casually beside her. “Miss Rarity, I don’t mean to interrupt, but Lyrica has ripped the hem of her dress. I told her you can’t even notice it, but she’s refusing to come out of the cabin. I don’t mean to be a bother, but could you have a look at it?”

Rarity nodded knowingly; she would hate to have everyone notice a tear in her outfit at such an event. “I’d be more than happy to help.” She turned to her hangers-on. “Everypony, I’ll be right back in just a moment.”

The cabin was large and luxurious, as befitted a pony of Fancy Pants importance. There was a desk in the center of the room, lit by a long line of glass windows along the back wall. Several bookshelves filled with books on airship operation and navigation, likely for show, stood between the two doors that led into the cabin. A globe and spyglass sat on the desktop, along with a copy of Star Swirl’s Guide to the Amniomorphic Spell.

Rarity stepped lightly into the room, looking around for the noblemare. “Lyrica? Lyrica, darling? Are you here?” There was no response. The white mare looked beneath the desk, but saw only what one would expect to see beneath one.

“Looking for someone?”

Rarity wheeled, eyes set in a glare. The Prince had that stupid smirk on his face, and the fashion designer sorely wanted to wipe it off.

“You’re a hard mare to get alone,” Blueblood spun the globe on the desk with an extended hoof. He kept his eyes fixed on Rarity, roving along her forelegs, her barrel, her flanks. “But sooner or later, everypony says yes to me.”

Rarity moved towards the door, but the sizable stallion blocked her path. She tried to move around him, but he moved at the same time. “Prince Blueblood, I demand you let me pass. I have no desire to say yes, I haven’t since the day we first met, and I never will!”

Something clicked in the Prince’s mind. “An oversight,” He murmured to himself, “but inconsequential.” He stepped forward, running a hoof across the other unicorn’s jaw. “You will be mi – oof!”

As soon as he touched her, Rarity’s horn glowed blue, the mirroring aura wrapping around the book on the desktop, which swung with deadly accuracy to club the larger stallion across the face. In his moment of distraction, Rarity darted past him, galloping for the door. With an angry snarl, the Prince spun around, sinking his teeth into the fur of her back leg. With a tremendous show of force, he swung her by her leg in a half circle, sending her headfirst in the desk. The impact knocked the globe onto the carved wood floor.

Rarity lay on the floor, the room spinning around her. The Prince loomed above her, rising up on his hind legs, and in that moment, Rarity knew she was going to die.

A white silhouette caught the Prince just beneath the shoulder, driving the wind from his lungs. Fancy Pants tackled Blueblood onto the desk and over it, pummeling the other stallion’s muzzle with three powerful punches. The Prince tucked his legs beneath Fancy Pants’ chest and heaved, throwing the agent away. Fancy Pants landed on all fours, firing a golden burst from his horn. Blueblood ducked aside, lips split in a feral grin. He ran forward, head set to run Fancy Pants through with his massive horn, when the globe connected with the back of his rear legs, causing him to stumble. The agent stepped sideways and latched his arm beneath the stunned prince’s chin. The larger stallion’s barrel kept moving forward, and as his legs flew out from beneath him, Fancy Pants brought his leg down, boxing the thick blonde skull against the floorboards.

“Fancy Pants!” Rarity shouted, and the agent looked up. Rarity leaned against the desk, a coil of rope from one of the bookshelves held loosely in her flickering blue aura.

Prince Blueblood swung wildly with a forehoof, and Fancy Pants danced back, his horn glowing. Rarity tied the end of the rope into a loop, and as the Prince struggled to his feet, she threw the loop, aiming at his head. She missed, and the coil of rope fell on the floor next to him. Snarling, Blueblood snatched the rope in his teeth and started towards the mare.

Fancy Pants landed heavily on his barrel, catching the noose in him mouth. He yanked it up and over Blueblood’s head, cinching it tight with a burst of golden magic. The Prince choked as the rope forced his cheeks back, shaking his head furiously. He heaved his rump into the air, wrapping a foreleg around Fancy Pants’ neck and throwing him off. The agent curled the rope around the offending appendage, twisting to land on his feet. Another blast of magic right in the Prince’s eyes blinded him, and Fancy Pants bucked him hard in the jaw. The Prince reared up on his hind legs to soften the blow.

Taking advantage of the moment, Fancy Pants threw the rope over Blueblood’s head, using a precise application of magical force to make it tighten across his back, trapping his left foreleg against his side. “Tie it to the doorknob!” Fancy Pants shouted, looping the rope twice more around the Prince’s form as he tottered unsteadily on two legs. Another pull brought the stallion’s legs together, and Fancy Pants curled the proximal end of the rope into a complex knot, securing it by sliding the spyglass into the eyehole. He glanced back at Rarity, who was just pulling her own knot tight.

“Done!” The white mare yelled, the end of the rope still in her mouth. Fancy Pants spun and bucked, putting a bit of magic into the blow. He was sure he felt the Prince’s ribcage crack as the kick hurled the stallion into the glass window behind him. The rope spooled out for a few moments before going taut, the door rattling slightly with the impact.

Fancy Pants and Rarity inched up to the window, peering over the sill and down the thirty feet to where the Prince Blueblood swayed, struggling, in the afternoon breeze.

“I do believe he was even more irritating that time than on our first date.” Rarity announced, perhaps slightly louder than necessary.

The night agent fired the invisible beacon into the sky above the airship before responding. “You’ve met before, then?”

“At the Grand Galloping Gala last year; the least he could have done is pretended to remember it, though I suppose I did humiliate him in front of the entire party.” Rarity looked down once more, a small smile touching her lips. “Somehow, this is much more satisfying, though the circumstances could have been better.” A sudden realization struck her, and she gasped, “Fancy Pants, your new ship! I am dreadfully sorry! He tricked me into coming back here with him, and –“

“Rarity, Rarity, my dear, no need to apologize. It’s quite clear to me his highness has had far too much punch today.” He leaned in close, “Truth be told, I never could stand the arrogant foal.” The agent straightened, brushing off the front of his turtleneck and fixing his hat. “No, he’ll have forgotten the whole thing by tomorrow. All the same, I think it might be best if you stay close to me until we land.” Producing a key, Fancy Pants locked the door Rarity had affixed Blueblood’s lifeline to, then led her to the other.

“I heartily agree.” Rarity moved up next to her host, brushing shoulders with him as they stepped out and he locked the door behind them. “The prince can hang there until he’s blue in the face, for all I care.” As the two started out to the main deck, they glanced at each other, stone faced, until Rarity couldn’t hold it in any longer. She giggled, and Fancy Pants started to chuckle, and in moments both of them were laughing uproariously.

___

The pegasi moved in silently, in perfect formation, concealed by the bulk of the cabin from any of the passengers. Each of them was clad in a black flight suit, with dark goggles and masks covering their muzzles. Six of them flew in to surround the immobilized stallion, four of them stretching an adhesive sheet of cloth beneath the captive, two flying up to sever the rope. Blueblood fell into the sheet, and the flyers quickly bundled him in it, flying in concentric circles until the unicorn was swaddled up to his neck, unable to move. Supporting him between them, the pegasi turned towards Canterlot, landing just outside the city.

The prisoner was hustled down a series of dark tunnels, finally brought into a wide stone chamber, the wall etched with ancient pony hieroglyphics. The pegasi unceremoniously dropped Blueblood on the ground with a thud before vanishing into the shadows.

Blueblood attempted to speak through the rope still in his mouth, spittle flying with each exhalation. “Reweth me! Bon’t you dow who I ab?”

Hooves sheathed in metal clicked on the floor behind the Prince, and he tried to twist around, but couldn’t muster quite enough momentum. An aura of deep blue surrounded him, and he felt himself being lifted off the floor, held upside down in front of his captor.

“No, assassin, we do not know who you are – we know, however, whom you are not. Our nephew has been recovered, unharmed, from where you imprisoned him. You are not Prince Blueblood, though your recreation is uncanny.” The false Blueblood spun to face his captor. Princess Luna stood with her face close to his, and she could read the terror in his eyes. Her horn glowed bright, and the assassin’s eyes squeezed shut. A searing bolt of magic severed the gag in his mouth, and he coughed, gasping. Luna tilted her head, eyes hard, face an expressionless mask. Sweat beaded on her prisoner’s brow, and he swallowed reflexively.

“Now, we shall have a conversation,” Luna’s horn lit once more, a burning wave of energy searing across the assassin’s form, eliciting a scream of fear and pain, “On what you are.”

Author's Note:

Wow, has it really taken me seven months to churn this out?

It is certainly my hope that it's worth the wait. I could give any number of excuses for the length of time it took, but it's ultimately irrelevant. I ran this through spell check for the first time ever, and found a number of errors I'll be correcting in the previous chapters as well. Please let me know if you catch any I missed, and feel free to critique as well.

I've got some momentum going right now, and I hope to ride that and get the next chapter out soon - I don't want to promise anything and let you all down.

You all rock, live well, make good choices. I'll be around.

Comments

[Shadow_Wolf]

Nice to see this being continued and awesome chapter!

[Neutrinos are Magic]

CHANGELING!

[horizon]

Yay! It's being updated again!

Thank you for bringing a little more epic secret agent Fancy Pants into our lives.

[MrSuffix]

It brings a little joy to my heart as well. Thanks for coming back, everypony.

[redactedandredacted]

Ahhhhhhh please make this a regular thing. You've proven I can still really get engaged in a good fan fiction. Uh, one error was "Thou thy recreation..." should have been "though thy recreation..." Which is of course not at all an issue, just thought you might appreciate it being pointed out.

[MrSuffix]

2544951 Found and corrected! I shall try my utmost to continue producing good work to keep you engaged. Thanks again for your kind words.