Ms. Glimmer and the Do-Nothing Prince

by scifipony

05 — Second Encounter

I caught Streak in my magic as she leapt for the sky.

The feedback impulse through the Pull transform of Levitate manifested as a drag on my forelegs, because that's how I constructed the codicils that controlled gravitational force vectoring and anchoring. In Celestia's school, I learned most ponies instead designated their jaws. Made sense. Foals also went biting things to drag them, rather than using the frogs of their hooves. Defining one configurable codicil and predicate chain was simpler than two.

Juvenile.

Proper Step had molded a cultured adult from the moment he gained control of my life at five years of age. He had no tolerance for nonsense behavior.

The impulse dragged my forelegs above my head and dragged me a half pony length across the bench before I flooded my horn with enough splendors to suspend her, her wings buzzing like a hummingbird's.

Streak wore the armor every waking minute because of the speed and power it provided. Addictive. She also loved her bling. Cold and calculating Celestia wanted Streak on my team. Thus the lent armor. I hoped it wasn't because she judged that Streak was willing to sacrifice herself—or to kill—to protect me, as Streak had so thoughtlessly demonstrated. Parents, don't let your foals join gangs!

Streak understood immediately and plunked down, rattling the bench. She needed to learn control.

Pink failed to notice us, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Streak looked at me, eyebrows arched and the tip of her tongue sticking out the side.

I said, "We don't lose him this time. Tell the others. Discreet. If I initiate a fight, tell them to inform his guards who I am and order them to stand off, and not to tell the prince."

"Follow discreetly. If you start a fight, advise his guard. Orders."

She made like her name before I finished a nod. I flung a hoof to my hat as the brim blew in the backwash. Now I understood why Boss Running Mead had employed her. Fast on the uptake.

No way would she surrender that armor. Not ever. Evil princess!

I firmed out the wrinkles in my clothes, setting everything perfectly in place. I walked to the sidewalk and sauntered eastward on Firefly to the corner, then crossed. Pink's eyes raked me even as another bodyguard exited. Tan. Not sure he recognized me, or even cared since I was leaving the vicinity. I spun up teleport, having earlier taken a good look at the opposite corner to ensure I could target it. I expected Pink to be smart enough to take her charge the opposite direction I went. I'd appear pony lengths down the street to muffle the sound of the out-teleport.

Horseshoes clattered as the door shut. I might have a chance of tracking by sound alone.

Streak settled deep into the branches of a pine tree, looking pointedly at them and back to me. She winked. I nodded as I walked out of sight around the corner.

I heard, "...went exceptionally well. Let's tell Ink Blotter that More Well didn't scream at me. Won't start a breakaway party, you think?"

"That's beyond my pay grade," said a mare, horseshoe clatter and her voice growing louder. Pink... in the lead?

They were coming my way! Did Pink not recognize me, or not care? Blind? Then again, I didn't think pegasi could be nearsighted until I'd met Streak.

Streak held her wings apart, slowly bringing her pinions together. I backpedaled pony lengths. With no ponies close behind me, I backed far enough to return to the corner at the barest of demure trots.

Traffic was with me. Streets empty of vehicles. Pink walked predictably to the intersection... and crossed the corner, before she caught me in her peripheral vision. Her head swiveled as she drew to a halt, hoof across the curb.

Streak's wings touched as I strode past the building's corner at an incautious pace. No intelligent, or at least no innocent, pony would do that. Timing was everything. I made ready to roll toward the street, to minimize the injury as I would have in the fight arena.

Pink spun and yelled.

The prince broadsided me, his chin grazing my neck above the withers with bruising force; his body shoved into my left shoulder and barrel. He weighed a lot, and the shove had surprising muscle in it. My lungs emptied in a cough. While I maximized my resistance so I was more of a brick wall than a revolving door, including a bit of Shove to upset his gait (by reflex), I spun clockwise, corkscrewing from my hooves to legs-out on my belly, stopping short of my hooves sticking over the curb. A seam ripped, due to intentional tailoring that allowed me to fight. No way he missed the sound, though.

A unicorn, being less strong and less resistant than an earth pony, ought to have been reflected off the impact at a normal, dissipating momentum. He did not stumble toward the curb to his left or fall over. He absorbed the impact, reared to his right, and jumped back a couple of times on two legs. He shuffled his hooves, glaring as I looked slowly from under my sun hat, acting equal parts sheepish and stunned. I did take in a glance at what he put on display before I lifted my gaze to his blue eyes.

They were...

I smiled.

Along the way to his eyes, I did not miss he pedaled chromed steel-shod horseshoes.

They gleamed menacingly. As a prizefighter, in the arena, I'd have popped out Shield or used Shove, both of which a seasoned fighter could counter. Better yet, I'd have sprung out of hoof-reach, rather than risk being struck upside the head with either hoof, or otherwise trampled.

I wasn't in the arena, however. My heart raced nonetheless, and I tensed reflexively to fling myself aside, a movement I hoped my clothing hid.

I blinked, leaving myself at his mercy from his point of view.

"Clumsy much?" he asked as he settled to all fours with a metallic click-clack. I did not miss that lowering barely taxed his back and haunches, demonstrating his strength. Muscles moved visibly and flexed his white coat, which gleamed with a presentiment of perspiration.

The mare in me noticed.

Much about the prince looked superficially nice.

Okay, attractive.

If you thought of him solely as a stallion and not about his station or attitude. I understood why he had mares after his tail, coveting his genes. It was as if Celestia's nephew had inherited an elegant set from his aunt. With the same slightly pinkish white coat of the alicorn that ruled Equestria, there was even a resemblance. Celestia did not have a brother and I would not meet her sister for 601 days; he had to be an earlier elevation like Princess Mi Amore. For a stallion in his thirties, I rated him five stars. Heck, better than most in their twenties.

I said contritely, "I'm so sorry!" I offered a hoof, adding, "I left my bag in the park—"

He lifted his chin. "You are sorry." He sniffed and walked around me, ignoring my hoof. Pink gave me a single evaluating glance, as if I had failed a basic competency test, and followed her charge. My mouth dropped open.

I murmured, "Arrogant much?" Discounting that he might suspect I'd tried to knock him over, his ungentlecoltish snub made my blood boil and my ears burn. I mean, really? I scooted back to sit, watching him cross the intersection. A real prince, that one.

"Miss," said Tan, reaching a hoof down. I hid my eyes under the brim of my hat, lest the royal guard assigned bodyguard duty recognized me.

Brown added, "He's like that. Too many things on his mind."

"I am sorry," I said, slightly whining like I'd taken a reprimand from the prince, but I meant it as an apology to them for what came next.

Author's Note:

Funny how somepony can notice the arrogance in another but not in herself...

Next, titled appropriately, A Dance of Tongues.