Ms. Glimmer and the Do-Nothing Prince

by scifipony

17 — By Dawn's Early Light Part II (The Appointment)

As I trotted up to the ornate double-doors, I thought about how Cadance became flustered about Blueblood. The prince was a mercurial enigma, and despite the craziness and intimacy of last night, I had no reason to trust him. Like him? Maybe. Be intrigued as all giddy-up? Oh, colts, yes.

I snorted, nevertheless prepping Levitate under the threshold of lighting my horn.

I was late. No guards to announce me, I rapped with a hoof.

It audibly unlatched. The left side creaked as it opened, stopping wide enough to squeeze through.

I blinked at the bright sunshiny room so unlike the dark interior hall. I saw a carved wood sofa, gilt and upholstered in paisley; to the right, a corner of a heavy walnut table; beyond, barrister bookcases stuffed with law books. I saw a massive carved beam in the ceiling. Like the bathroom at his toy townhouse, it had a rusty-white and tan travertine floor with walnut parquet near the edges.

"Blueblood?" I asked. Well, more like whispered. This felt spooky. "Sorry,"I sang quietly, 'I'm late. A perky pink paranoid princess waylaid me..."

I swiveled my ears forward, straining.

Nothing. Quiet. Eerily so.

I sighed but smiled, given an excuse to light my horn as I pushed through. Part of me wanted to throw the door open, but instead anchored the panel so it couldn't be slammed on my neck or barrel. My eyes strained to adjust to the bright light as I looked for movement. The instant my rump cleared the doorway, I snapped my tail away.

A shadow whirled from behind the door. I jerked around— A direct view of the sun through tall windows dazzled me. My horseshoes clattered, but didn't mask the muffled thumps of an attacker's rubber-bottomed shoes.

Had the Prince been attacked? I had to save him!

My bodyguard reactions clicked in. I retargeted the vectors of Levitate to repel the shadow as I got body slammed against the unopened right door panel. Having discussed learning to fall correctly with Shining Armor, my skull did not bounce off the heavy door. I knew when to tense my muscles.

As I banged against the wood. Pony mass followed, striking me, emptying my lungs with a painful cough. Stallion mass; definitely more than mine; not Singe attacking me.

Pinned.

Worse, he shoved me up and off my hooves. I heard the thud and squeak as he adjusted his position, rearing, sliding me up so I had no purchase, and no leverage.

The door whooshed shut amidst the faint tinkle and pop of magic sparkles. Not a strength-advantaged earth pony, then.

I tried to interpose Levitate between us.

His left foreleg flashed up and pressed across my neck—

Adrenalized, heart thumping, I recognized the pressure and congestion of a strangling chokehold. I'd won a prize fight against an earth pony twice my mass with the name Ground Thumper using a pin and chokehold, but that had been in an arena that had rules—like don't kill your opponent!

As my head began to pound and ears buzz, unable to fill my empty lungs, instinct kicked in. I bucked though suspended, which made it harder to hold me. He pinned me with his chest, not his barrel, which protected him from my hooves. Rearing freed his forelegs to choke me. Though he wasn't an earth pony and his fur wasn't red (it was white), and it wasn't a lightning storm (and it wasn't even raining), Force replaced Levitate in my horn.

Force had been my most unreliable spell, though I'd set my first monster on fire with it. The year after, I hadn't known whether I was casting the static-discharge battle form of the spell (lightning) or the frictional tool form (plasma). I'd needed to shut my eyes and scream in rage to successfully cast, and had only succeeded when in dire need...

Or when not targeting ponies.

With purple and blue phosphenes pulsing in my dazzled eyes, and an edge of darkness swirling like windigo clouds at the periphery of my sight, this was dire need, but failure meant death.

So, I targeted a tulip chair between the door frame and the sofa.

A blue-green flash bang caused it to burst into a pillar of flame, hoof lengths from my attacker's rump.

He flinched aside, which slid me rearward across the door. I bucked again, hit the left door frame, shoving myself forward as splinters shot across the floor. Flames roaring beside him, he shifted his hooves, letting me catch him with only one hoof down.

A second buck forced him to rotate, lose his chest pin, then lose his choke hold.

I squirmed free and fell, flexed the joints of all four legs, and sprang up.

It wasn't my best maneuver, but I was disoriented. Had I connected as I'd intended, with my skull against his jaw, I'd have knocked him unconscious—and I'd have a terrific headache. My horn could have punctured his throat; actually legal for stubby-horned unicorns in the arena because I could crack my horn, and was more likely to blind myself with blood than win that way. As it was, I connected with my shoulder.

He rotated back, forelegs flailing.

I landed on my belly, gasping for air.

I watched Prince Blueblood peddle his legs, still rearing, trying not to go over. I transformed Force to Levitate. I didn't shove him the rest of the way. I'd fought him yesterday. He could squirm out of anything, and he'd expect that attack.

I lifted him, broke his contact with the floor, and flung him head over hindquarters like a windmill vane as I thrust him upwards. He didn't squirm out but chose to cast magic.

I braced, expecting to be thrust at.

Instead, I managed to fling him all the way to the ceiling! A three-story high castle ceiling. One with ornately carved beams to look like tree branches encircled by thick vines. In the plastered interstitial ceilings, I saw frescoes of a jungle canopy with glimpses of blue sky. I saw a monkey staring down in one, and red and green gesso parrots roosting in another as the prince flailed around, realizing he'd made a mistake.

"Hey!" he yelled, "Put me down right now!"

"Or what?" I shouted up at him as the smile on my face broadened. As I stood, I felt a bruise puffing up on my right side, and a twinge of a muscle pulled in my neck when I fought to protect my skull from the door. "You gonna kiss and make up?" I puckered my lips at him.

"I-I-I will— Hey, how did you do this?"

Good question. He was three stories up. I'd never levitated a pony higher than they could fall without badly injuring themselves.

"Dunno. I've fought off ponies trying to murder me before. One allowed me to discover Force to fight him. Another, a griffon, I blasted with the same spell. I threw her across a conference room to crater a marble wall. I dunno. Maybe you shouldn't make me think you might kill me?"

He squirmed until he was hooves down. "I was trying to make a point."

"And learned a lesson instead?"

A blue nebula roiled around his horn, which made me think the spell he cast inadvertently complemented mine. Did he have a spell to catch himself if he fell? Did that mean I could hold him higher without my wonky magic "worrying" I might injure him?

This nevertheless meant he couldn't dare juggle spells to attack. Though, I'd be a foal to trust that. It gave me a good view of his adorable stallion parts, which last night's darkened room prevented me from seeing. His belly area made it plain that the skin under his fur was black like Citron's, though his nose and face were obviously porcelain pink-skinned.

Putting myself in his place, I'd spit at me. He might be too refined to think of that. I moved him across the ceiling as I trotted away from the rising smoke, taking no pains to prevent him from knocking into one beam or another.

"Hey!" Smoke from the smoldering chair formed a grey haze at ceiling height. He coughed.

I positioned him over wood-backed sofas and torchiere lamps that if fallen upon might result in broken, well, maybe lots of broken bones. I stepped out of range of any fluids he might aim at me. I banged him into another beam as I surveyed the palatial living room. Lots of gilt furniture and fabric, with mountainous tapestries on one wall, painted scenes of Equestria on another, and two walls of windows that looked out on the fairy-arched ramparts to the east (and the sun) and the gardens to the south, with Sunset's bronze onion-domed ivory tower looming to the southeast. I wondered if he'd watched me leaving and arriving daily.

I looked back up at him. "For the record, I enjoyed that little test of yours. I don't want to discourage trying again, so long as you understand the pitfalls. A warning, though: Don't think to threaten any pony under my protection as a workaround. You won't end well."

"Warning taken. Let me down now!"

"Afraid of heights?"

"Ms. Glimmer!"

I trotted toward the burnt chair. "Were I up in the rafters like you, I'd at least have spat at me. Maybe even pissed—"

"Test over, test over!" He waved his hooves.

Laughing, I lowered him. Over the sofas and torchiere lamps, naturally. When he realized I wasn't joking, I got to see a nifty second or third level Shield apparition appear in the shape of a ramp. It had the springiness of a firm mattress. He bounded off, but clumped with too much momentum into a barrister case. A cracked pane of glass shattered on the floor as I pulled a table-cloth from a sideboard and smothered the flames on the chair with a loud whumf.

I kept an eye on him.

Rubbing his bruised shoulder, he said, "You remind me of my father. Same sense of humor: none. Do whatever it takes to achieve your ends. No mercy when fighting. Overpowered magically."

"That safflower stallion with a pink blaze and a crystal ball?"

He nodded.

"Um, wait, I was distracted, you know! His name...? Um. Archmage D— Um, Dazzle, Daze?"

"You've seen his portrait?"

"Duh." I straightened up even as I felt my face warm. "Wait? Overpowered? Was that a complement you gave me just now?" I especially liked being praised, particularly for something earned.

"My father was rather socially-inept."

I made a raspberry noise, but laughed. "May be true about me. Still, a complement! Thank you." I dropped the scorched formerly white tablecloth to the floor. "Not really sorry about the chair, though."

His horn glowed blue.

I morphed Levitate into Shield reflexively, but he conjured water. I jumped back from the splash and the white-grey humid smoke as he doused the last of the danger.

"Nice trick," I said.

"Can't conjure?"

"Can't teleport?"

"Point taken. Well taken, actually. That was a Resignation Interregnum, Randy Carver original end-chair you burnt up there."

I blew air through my lips. "Don't I technically own all the furniture, now? Along with you royals?"

He sighed. "Yes. And yes, you indeed passed my test."

"I passed the test?" I grinned up at him, my horn still lit.

He pointed at my horn still being lit. "Yes. You passed."

I did a little filly dance, smiling, hooves clattering.

"How old are you really?"

Flashing on last night, I said, "Does it really matter? I'm good." I winked. "In many ways—and you're still strong enough, where it matters, with coltish good looks besides, despite being ancient history."

"Hey."

"Hay is for breakfast. If you'd been listening when Celestia introduced me, you could have looked up my age from the peerage registry. Though yesterday, I kept you too busy to research. Don't I know!" I'd worn him out and left him sleeping in his bed, exhausted due to his ancient history-ness.

I remembered my cutie mark discovery, or rather his lack thereof. I stepped over and, with conscious rudeness, lowered my head to examine the compass closely. Amazingly real. The way the hairs were colored metallic gold and steel blue. I even sniffed, but smelled oatmeal soap not cinnamon.

"Magic?" I prompted, my nostrils still pulsing. I didn't outright want to call him a blank flank, though I'd call ponies a name in a fight if it brought me an advantage.

He rotated his rear end away from my scrutiny. I pouted.

"You are young."

I raised my chin and sniffed. "Old enough, apparently! About that third level Shield you cast. Did you learn it from Shining Armor? I've put him on notice he's teaching me about his special spell."

"I try to stay away from Celestia's tools."

I climbed onto a sofa and gave him the look, trying not to laugh. "You know, I am Celestia's tool, right?"

"Lieutenant Armor is way too loyal and straightforward. I suspect your loyalty lies elsewhere?"

I blinked at him, feigning innocence and failing.

He went on: "That guard is perfect for Princess Mi Amoré Cadenza, and he is after her tail if she would simply glance over her dock and realize it."

"And who is this pony perfect for?" I asked, smirking. "You?"

He snorted. He walked past the sufficiently large spot on the sofa beside me and sat on a chair.

No necking then. Disappointed, ya betcha.

I asked, "About Cadance. Were you two an item?"

He got a crooked grin. He touched a hoof to his chest. "You understand now why I test mares who take to following me around like ducklings, right? A mare like you is the exception to the rule, and when you become 'ancient history' like me, the endless parade becomes boring. I have to praise the little alicorn princess that she could be discreet, but that didn't make her less annoying. A little over a year ago, she brushed up against me as I entered my suite. When she told me clearly what she wanted, and followed me inside, I did my best to make her ready."

I shivered and nodded. He could do that expertly.

"Then I tossed her out of my suite in a lather. I slammed the door on her presumptuous pink hindquarters. She screamed her frustration for the entire castle to hear. I suspect if ever she found the necessity to ride her coltfriend, it was then." He sighed. "That stopped the duckling impression, but didn't stop her from eyeing me like a tasty cake at the Great Galloping Gala, or giving me coy looks at meals when nopony was looking. One more reason to avoid 'family' dinners with my aunt."

I nodded again.

"It's the problem with being as good-looking as I am, and still marriageable."

I snorted. "We all have issues! So... Now that I've been tested... What do I get for all the fun and bruises?" I knew what my body wanted, but he telegraphed that wasn't on his mind.

"Father was my age when he started training me."

"How old were you?"

"Five? Times were chaotic. Discord made Equestria difficult for ponies, and I was too young to understand more than simply hating that my parents ignored me because of it. I acted out, but then I guess my father and mother expected that."

"They..." I blinked. "...expected that you'd 'act out?'"

He chuckled. He levitated a crystal pitcher, poured two goblets of orange juice, and levitated them over. "Celestia named me Blueblood when she introduced me at court, like she introduced you the other day, but with far less controversy."

"You have a different name?" Did it go with the cutie mark!? Oh, wait, it was fake.

"Celestia named me after the Blueblood they named the central park after, the diplomat who made peace with the Zebra Confederation. You're seriously not good at history."

"I'm a practical pony." I lifted my chin.

"You're a foal, but you'll figure that out eventually."

He gulped his juice before clicking down the stemware on a table with a sigh. I sipped mine, glaring at his condescension. A bit too acidic for me. Both.

He added, "Father and Mother named me Blue-eyed Brawler."

I snorted, spraying orange droplets off the top of the liquid. "Not a courtly name!"

He grinned. "Blue-eyed, when I was good; Brawler, when I was bad. Father and Mother never told me what mischief I got into as an infant, no doubt impressive. When I bloodied the noses of three colts that bullied me on the way to school, Father told me enough was enough."

"You remember that?"

"Yes. What Father put me through to teach me discipline afterwards I'll never forget. I regret that day greatly. It ruined my life."

I put the juice aside and walked over. Standing, I looked him in the eye. "You propose to put me through that?"

He waved a hoof dismissively. "You're highly disciplined. I can teach you why you normally can't put a hoof on me, like in our fight yesterday. It's my special talent. My father wanted a warrior pony. Equestria needed one, or so Celestia agreed."

Ah, maybe we weren't so different! Celestia was his boogiemare, also.

"A warrior who gets beaten-up before he accomplishes his task is worthless. You for example."

I scoffed. "Me?"

"Do you have a high pain threshold?"

"Not really. I learned that if I don't fight despite the pain, I'll lose, probably something important enough that I'm fighting for it. There's always healing magic, which I can now cast on myself."

"You—" He blinked. "You can—?"

I smirked, using his phrase: "It's my special talent. Related to it by the mathematics, anyway. I stole it from Flowing Waters' aura."

He sniffed, then lifted a hoof. "Better not to get hit."

"Definitely. Though the direct route through an obstacle is sometimes more unexpected."

"So, why do you like fighting so much?"

"Don't forget the magic component here. Hoof in hoof, hoof to heart. Probably Celestia's doing, bless her wretched heart: it makes me able to protect ponies and I am finding I really like that." That and figuring out cutie marks so I could eliminate the scourge on ponydom. If he could operate thirty-some years without one... There were clues here!

He raised an eyebrow. "Truthfully?"

I looked at my hooves. "It's fun, okay? The learning magic, especially; practicing it; the physical training. Ensures nopony controls me. Mostly. Okay?"

He gave a sad laugh. I wondered if he thought of Celestia as I did when he parroted,"Mostly."

"You?"

"I want to teleport. Teach me."

I stepped back, my jaw dropping down. "Um. So far as I know, only Celestia, Sunset Shimmer, and Twilight Sparkle can cast that spell."

"And you, Starlight Glimmer."

I gasped. "We all have celestial names! It's coincidence, though." My mom named me a more down to earth Aurora Midnight.

"You agree to teach me the so-called impossible spell and I'll teach you Archmage Sunny Daze's techniques. I think he'd approve of you."

"Why do you want to know?"

He coughed. "I hate being followed. By ducklings, and by Celestia's eyes in the sky."

"There's that. Hard spell, though. Very unpleasant." I unstrapped my messenger bag, which being on my right—and my having been shoved on my right side against a door—accounted for the main bruise across my ribs. I floated out my notebook, which naturally opened to that page because I'd studied it so long. "This one?"

His eyes shifted back and forth, then widened.

I shut it with a loud clap and stuffed it back in my bag.

"That one."

"Teleport feels like you're dying the first few times. Still does, but I'm used to it."

"Nevertheless."

"You're going to teach me your transforms of Shield and your vacuum form of Force."

"That goes without saying."

"The last pony so stupid as to use that phrase with me ended up mortgaging his home to get me to sign a contract because he suspected I could become a championship prizefighter and really wanted to train me. He proved right. Are you as stupid?"

"I will teach you everything my father taught me, including his magic because he taught me that, too—if you teach me Teleport and anything else you know."

I rubbed my chin. "I know a few spells. Do you wish me to enumerate?"

"I trust you."

I wouldn't trust me! I wasn't sure whether I'd teach him the alicorn spell-simplification I'd learned from Celestia. I would probably wait until he stopped being a challenge, then teach him to make him harder to beat. You had to test your limits. I shrugged, then grinned, spitting into my hoof. "Deal?"

"How old are you?"

"What? I'm an athlete and a pardoned criminal! I don't do refined unless I want to, and then thanks to Celestia's Majordomo's son, who raised me, I can probably out refine you if I chose. So, deal?"

He tried to hoof bump me, but I angled my hoof, intercepted the flat of his, and mashed our frogs together, rubbing them as he jumped up and scrambled over the back of the chair. "Still a foal," he cried.

"When I want to be, and proud of it."

Scoffing, he walked three-legged until he got to a basket of kerchiefs. He wiped his hoof on a daisy-pattern one. He wore only a powder blue bowtie, now wrinkled and bearing a charcoal smudge. It matched his glittering eyes. He motioned me to follow.

My eyebrows lifted and my grin widened. He was really leading me toward his bedroom?

Down the hall, I did see the ornate gleam of a brass bedstead. However, he stopped at a credenza and a ceiling-height gilt wrought iron mirror. He said, "I'm taking a big risk. Don't make me regret today."

"I do mature mare, as well as silly filly, as you well know from yesterday." Both were an act, of course. I was a good observer. Well tutored. I'd rarely had the chance to experience either directly, although I was racking up some normal experience come to think of it.

"I suppose."

He splashed magic through the mirror. The wall behind rumbled and the whole section rolled back.

"They really built secret passages into castles? I thought somepony made that up writing gothic romances!"

"I searched until I found the plans for the castle, then chose my suite well."

Inside, lights flickered, lighting a staircase. That led down to...

It might have been a dungeon, once. I looked at a complete one-person gym, with a trotting track, punching bags, and a target range. All sorts of gleaming chromed muscle torture machines, scattered free weights, and red practice mats. Scorches of black where thrown fire had splashed and cracked cold chiseled Canterlot mountain bedrock made impressive wall art for any fight gym.

Celestia had a right to suspect her adopted nephew kept secrets. I whistled before saying, "This is going to be fun."