Contrariness
“If I may speak... sir?” Connie stood outside of Blueblood's room, beside the dining cart. She was sitting on her hind end, head tilted forward as the prince's magical force slowly settled feathers against the tips of her ears, attaching them with small silk ribbons.
“So long as you do not disturb my work, you may speak.” Blueblood had ceased to be stern and inscrutable. He was merely neutral, as though he was speaking to someone that was barely there.
“I somehow feel, sir, that some of these actions may be, in some manner, inappropriate. I have considered taking this matter to some authority of some measure, as is my right, sir.” Connie looked up, daring to try and gauge Blueblood's reaction to the news.
The big unicorn looked somewhat stricken. He was not angry at the insolence, if it could be so called. There was more a combination of worry and surprise. The ribbons were tied on, leaving several feathers waving at the tips of her ears. They looked to be rather good examples of bald eagle griffin feathers, the kind not usually found in circulation. “I do not understand what you are attempting to say. Inappropriate? I find nothing inappropriate in this. But perhaps there may be some facet I do not see. I will contemplate this. Please leave me now to my considerations and do not do anything rash.” Before closing the door, in a quick and soft statement he added, “And please enjoy the feathers.”
While wheeling the cart away Connie pulled the feathers from her eartips and looked them over, finally realizing they were griffin feathers. Another fine story to add to the others she had, and some nice trinkets to drop in her drawer, alongside the discarded Grand Galloping Gala flier she had found after one of the events, and the seashell she had found on her one and only trip to a beach.
She was almost down in the kitchen when she found herself stopped by a pony standing in her path. A lime-green unicorn with darker green mane. The big cheese of maids, Lime Sherbert. “Hello there, Connie. I think we need to talk.” Her tone was light, friendly, just like her features. By all appearances she was attempting to look like a good friend.
“Uhh, I've got some things to do in the kitchen, ma'am. I'm a little behind and I need to get...” Connie attempted to maneuver the cart around Lime's body.
“Yes, a little behind. And I have to wonder why.” Lime pressed her body against the cart and pushed back. She was a unicorn versus a donkey, so was not much in the strength department, but her mere presence was quite strong.
“I don't know... I don't know what you mean by that. I have work to do, and a lot of it. I'm terribly sorry but I must be off.”
“Did he threaten you?” Lime's expression changed in a heartbeat. Her face hardened and brows furrowed, body becoming even more rigid against the cart. “If he said even one thing...”
“I swear, ma'am, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a scullery maid. I'm not worth threatening.” Connie's body pressed harder on the cart, pushing Lime a little bit. The motion made her statement's subject a bit more ambiguous. “Please let me get back to work.”
Lime relented, stepping to the side with a huff. “You don't have to protect him. He doesn't have the rights you think he has. He can get in trouble. Big trouble. Just come to my room when you finally want to stick it to him.”
“I... will remember that, ma'am, though I do not quite understand it.” Connie pushed the cart on, sighing a bit and shaking her head. From both sides. It was coming form both sides.
Blueblood's door opened after a series of stern, insistent knocks, revealing his aggravated features. “What matter could anypony possibly have...” His tirade ended when he saw the scowling green face behind the door. “Mrs. Sherbert! To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“What did you do? Were there threats? I don't think even you would use physical force and violate someone. I'm telling you, it ends. Now.” Lime poked Blueblood in the chest, rather sternly, and gave him the evil eye.
“I-I'm sure I don't know what you are trying to imply.” Blueblood disdainfully swept the offending hoof from his chest, but took a rather fearful step back into the comfortable fortress of his quarters. “I have done nothing wrong. Now please leave me alone. I am trying to eat.”
“I know you did something. I may not know what, and she may be too intimidated or awed or something similar to tell me, but I know. And now you know I know. So let's consider the matter closed.” Lime glared into the room, casting eyes about for evidence of a struggle or something untoward. All she could see were scattered papers around the desk, mostly crumpled up, with a few open to reveal poor charcoal renderings of tall, thin peaks. “Enjoy your meal, Prince. And do recall, her Majesty's voice is always warmed up and eager to be used.”
The door closed with a firm slam, Blueblood left panting and wide-eyed after his encounter. Everything was spiraling out of control. That certainly didn't happen very often. He was the ultimate authority. Or so he had always been assured, excepting his distant relations. He was supposed to be the one that led things along. But he was just falling.
”There is an important lesson you must learn, son.” His father and mother were not warm and nurturing ponies. They were distant, dismissive, and ruthlessly efficient. The last of the line clinging to the honorary title bestowed so long ago. The final remaining Celestian honorarium that made them technical blood kin. His father looked sternly down on the young Blueblood as he imparted his wisdom. “Ponies are base, immoral creatures. Don't be swayed by the lies of the needlessly cheery and kind. In Canterlot you will learn how low they are. They will cling to you, like parasites, leeching off your money, status and power. Mares will want your bloodline, stallions will want your favors. The only pure relation is strict control. Be always above, and always stern. Never let any party capture you and use you. Do I make myself clear?”
The foal Blueblood had heard such lessons many times before. His forming, sponge-like brain could repeat them, but he was barely aware of what any of it meant. Still, as was proper, he nodded his head and looked up at his father. “I understand. I will not be controlled.”
It wasn't hard to do. With that status available, and with nobles eager to enhance their status with mere proximity, he could make them dance at the ends of his strings. In some sense, perhaps, they were using him. But a passive parasitism with him knowing it was far less harmful than him being a gullible follower giving increasing power and status to a single mendacious figure. He even had power over that passive usage. He could deny and dismiss anypony claiming him as a compatriot, leaving them drifting and helpless.
A certain distance, a modicum of aloofness, was forever required in every aspect of his life. It was not enough to merely stand apart. Others had to realize he was intentionally holding them at hoof's length. It was none of his concern if that made him appear unusual in the eyes and estimation of others. His own inner nobility would always shine through, and that was good enough for him. Others who could not understand were hardly worth his thoughts.
He was not deaf, and not as ignorant as the servants seemed to believe he was. He could hear the things they said about him. It was seldom very kind, with all the snide insinuations of oddity and foolishness, but it was not all bad. He was usually held in contrast to Marquise Morning Star, as the lesser of two bad ponies. There was a kind of compliment in that, being used as an example of how to be bad but not too bad.
It wasn't even a matter of being bad. Just being safe. Protected from leeches. There was nothing wrong with that. Others had the right to protect themselves from harm. He had that right as well. And he had his preferences. He liked things just so, and that often made others look poorly on him. Perhaps he did not express himself well, but it was just the same as others avoiding the things they did not like.
Blueblood sat down to eat, glumly munching on a crisp salad and a perfectly-made soup. While he ate he also took up the charcoal and started to sketch again. His technique was horrible, art being one of the traditional noble skills he had never managed to master. The thin peaks wavered and bent in all the wrong ways, looking badly distorted. Long past the point when the drawing could have any hope of salvaging he crumpled up the paper and tossed it with a groan. After another bite of salad he took another piece of paper and started again.
“Any new action out of Prince Creepyblood?” Fireclay moved into position beside Connie, the umber earth pony nudging the jenny insistently and grinning like a maniac. “I need gossip, so give it up.”
“I don't think it is very appropriate or very kind to talk about our employers like that.” Connie glanced around quickly and leaned in a bit, adding, “I have no gossip at all. It's been a while since I was called in to him. The last time was... well, never mind. It was odd but no more odd than any other time. Lime confronted me and then I guess she talked to him. He'll probably never see me or talk to me again.”
“In a way, I'm a little disappointed. This was good for some chatter. Still, I guess that means things go back to normal.”
“As normal as they get around here anyhow...” Connie looked up and found herself faced with Blueblood, who had turned a corner right in front of her. “Ah, sir. How unexpected...”
“I feel, somehow, there was a tragic misunderstanding on your part. And I will not be misunderstood if it can be helped. I therefore request and require than you come to my chamber at your earliest possible convenience to have this matter resolved and corrected. Feel free to use my name to smooth over petty problems that may arise.” With his message rather brusquely delivered, Blueblood turned and made his way up to the higher reaches of the palace.
Neither maid spoke for a long, confused moment. Fireclay finally broke the silence, staring off at where the prince had been. “Do you want a condom? Maybe a birth control crystal? He should be clean...”
“I somehow doubt it will be necessary. This is just... more of that weirdness I've come to expect. Maybe I'll get an apology...”
“Yea, and maybe parasprites will fly out of my butt. Don't count on that happening either.” Fireclay nudged Connie softly. “Need me to inform anypony? I think you need me inform somepony. I'll go inform somepony....” She started to make her way off.
“Wait!” Connie caught Fireclay's leg and hauled her back. “There's no need to be rash. And really no need to get others involved. Look... I know we joke about him all the time. But honestly, he's harmless. Sure, a jerk. But a harmless jerk. I've honestly felt more threatened and slandered by other visiting nobles, especially the Marquise d'Venus types. So don't freak out, don't call anyone. I'll go up there, get some condescending speech about how I'm too sensitive, maybe have something weird but harmless happen to my ears and then that will be the end of the matter. I already know how it all plays out. So, just calm down. I've got this.”
“If you say so...” Fireclay glanced aside at Connie, uncertain about what to do.
“I say so. Go on, get back to whatever it was you were going to do after gossiping.” Connie chuckled a bit and gave the mare a flank-bump. “This might be worth some more gossip later.” With that, Connie placidly clopped off down the hall.
Fireclay watched her fellow maid go, then zipped off after she was out of sight. “Yea, sorry Connie. Harmless or not this one needs me to pull the Banishment Option lever...”
Connie arrived at the door and gave it a timid knock. She didn't want to appear too eager to have it done with, but she didn't want to be a complete doormat. Moderation would be key in dealing with the issue. After another soft knock the door came open, to reveal Blueblood in a rather dashing terrycloth robe with silk lapels and an all-wool fez. He looked ready to receive a visitor who was either not a threat to him and undeserving of formality or who was in the inner circle and allowed to see such. She could clearly understand which she was. “Here I am, sir, as you requested.”
“So I see. Please come in.” Blueblood backed away from the door and allowed Connie in, leaving the way open, much to her delight. The room was as ever, a large, tastefully-appointed marble space, very bright and cheerful, appointed like a manor, though with the distinct 'feel' of an apartment. The only big change was over the writing desk in the front room, where there were posted up a number of papers containing thin peaks drawn in charcoal.
“Sir, if I may ask, why am I here? I am only a scullery maid, sir, and hardly worth all this time and effort that has been focused on me.”
“Do you deny me my right and power to decide what may or may not draw and keep my attention?” Blueblood looked at Connie, not quite glaring, but more trying to gauge her with his eyes.
“I would never, sir! It was not my intention to imply such a thing, sir! I merely meant to say, sir, that I am a mere menial servant and that surely there are far more grand and worthy targets of the attention of one of such status and powers as you.”
Blueblood raised a brow, smiling very subtly, just small enough to go unnoticed. “You have a very quick mind behind that self-deprecating obsequiousness. I always assumed as much... Connie.”
Connie shuddered as though stricken. There were no words or thoughts that could accurately reflect how she felt. It was fairly frightening to her, in a certain sense. When she was anonymous, her curious mistreatment was merely the luck of the draw. With her identity known it was much more sinister in nature. There was a slight tint of pride in it. To be known by a stallion of Blueblood's stature was flattering. But still... “S-sir... you... know my... name?”
“Do not presume that all the rumors you hear are true. I know that most of the staff see me as some sort of dithering buffoon. But no... I think you know better. There are hidden depths to you. I knew it from the start. You are not just pretty ears.”
“I'm afraid this is very, very inappropriate, sir. I am distinctly uncomfortable. Sir.” Connie backed up, slowly. She didn't make it to the door, but came close to it. She stopped before leaving, held back but some little uncertainty about Blueblood's malevolence.
“Are you? I do not mean to cultivate that feeling.” Blueblood actually stepped back and turned away slightly. “I know, of course, of the impressions I leave. But one thing has never been quite clear. Please, if you can before you go, tell me... do they think I am like the anathematized Marquise Morning Star?”
The uncertain jenny didn't want to answer. She wanted to run to the steam room. She wanted to lie in her bed and dream about frivolous personal electronics. She didn't want to answer questions for a stallion whose motivations were suddenly a mystery. “No, sir. They think you are, as you said, a dithering buffoon. Uh, sir.”
“You do not need to persist in calling me 'sir' in every complete or incomplete sentence.”
“No, sir. I'm afraid I do, sir. It is an essential formality of my occupation, sir. It forms the necessary distance between myself and you which has not been imposed by the obvious status you project or any matter of attire, sir. It is necessary, sir. For all of us, sir.”
“It does impose a certain distance. I find that rather uncomfortable. It makes everything much harder.”
“If I may ask, sir, what is being made harder?”
Blueblood looked at Connie with a questioning eye. “I... will take that as stated. I was hoping you would be a little less formal.”
“It is my job to be formal, sir. I am a maid, sir.” Connie cut in on Blueblood quickly, trying to wrap up the whole matter.
“I am trying to tell you... There was a reason. There was always a reason I...” Suddenly Blueblood looked far less confident. It was as if all of his bravado was fading, draining out like air from a punctured balloon. “I do not trust ponies. Or donkeys. Or griffins. Or anyone. It is... hard to do so, when my status is a prize to be taken.”
“I assure you, sir, I do not want your status. I am happy as I am in my job and my station, sir. It was good enough for my parents to work outside of the palace and raise their children with a strong work ethic, sir. It suffices me and gives me all I require, sir.”
“I never had much opportunity to be with others. And cannot interact without the use of money and status.” He was almost not speaking to Connie. His focus had drifted somewhat. “I cannot say anything directly. I need to be understood, even if I cannot say anything.”
“If I may, perhaps, be too bold, sir, I would like to remind you I am only a scullery maid. I have no power to judge you or harm you socially, sir. You may say anything you like, sir, and it will not come to harm you.”
“I... I find... that since...” Blueblood slid the fez off his head and gently wrung it in his hooves. “I have, since the day I saw you... I have rather... I like... that is to say. I...” He sucked in a breath and looked straight into Connie's face. “I really... I love your ears.”
Connie stared at Blueblood. Once more, she didn't know what to think of him. The thoughts were slightly more coalesced, but not quite there. “What did you say, sir?”
“I said, I love your ears.”
“My... ears...” There came another period of silence, with Connie contemplating her situation. Her features cracked, moving from her uncertain neutrality to a growing sorrow. “I thought you were not like that.”
“What? Like what?”
“You see my ears, sir. All of Equestria sees my ears, and they always have, sir. From the moment I was born they were all anyone saw, even among the donkeys, all my life, sir. It is the most painful point in everything, even when mentioned in a friendly manner because all I can remember is the teasing, sir. And now you... you...” Connie sniffed sharply and looked up to show her moist eyes. “I had never believed any of the bad things said about you, sir! I believed you were only puckish and out-of-touch with how others felt, sir! But I never... I never... I never knew you would be so cruel, sir! You proved, sir, you are what they only joke you are!”
“N-no! No! I... I was not! I mean I... I am...” Blueblood grasped Connie tightly, pressing her strong body into his bulky form, trying to keep her in the room.
“P-please, sir! Please let go, sir! Please..!” Her natural donkey strength would have allowed to to simply break out of the unicorn's grasp. No matter how strong, it was almost a foregone conclusion that a unicorn would lose to the strength of a donkey, as they might to an earth pony. It was not needed, however. She found the limbs letting her loose after she begged. With nothing to say and no idea what else could be done she simply ran away from the room, crying.
“I'm... sorry...” Blueblood watched her go, his huge frame slumping. He had used all his energy trying to shore up his confidence, and he had failed. He had absolutely nothing left.
“You!” Out of nowhere came Lime Sherbert, thundering up filled with righteous indignation. “I saw that! You... you... I always assumed the darker rumors were just workers blowing smoke up other folks' flanks! But you just grabbed that poor girl and she had to break out of your clutches!”
“N-no! No! I can assure you that nothing that you are thinking is so!”
“Really? Seductive bathrobe, fez, grabbing at a resisting, weeping jenny. I'd tell you what I'm thinking but I'm not comfortable talking about pornography with you. And I doubt her majesty will enjoy it much. But she will enjoy treating you to every last decibel of her voice. No getting out of it now, Prince.” Lime put all the contempt she could into his title, lighting her horn and grabbing at his fancy robe. “Time to face her majesty. Fresh from a day's rest and filled with frustration and aggravation. I almost pity you...”
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Oh dear. I almost feel bad for Blueblood.. almost. So how much longer to the wooing?
growing sorry. sorrow
Poor bastard, he really sucks this, doesn't he? You have now created the second time I've been sympathetic to Blueblood. (The other being The Best Night Ever.)
I have three people I feel bad for if things continue like I think they will:
1) Blueblood, who'll get punished the one time he probably shouldn't be and made himself vulnerable in an attempt to reach out,
2) Connie, who asked over and over not to have anyone get in trouble on her behalf and against her will, and
3) Luna, once she finds out that Lime Sherbet came to her based on a misunderstanding.
If you're real quiet and listen carefully you can almost hear Chopin's Funeral March being played for poor Blueblood.
2020691
Honestly, I wouldn't feel bad about Luna. If I were Luna, the next one to get a few hundred decibels of voice would be Lime because she was the one who jumped the gun here. It wouldn't, however, be hurled insults, rather a stern (and loud) chastisement for not getting the full story before hurling accusations. I would expect even Luna who sees Lime as a friend would still take it upon herself to tell her friend when she's being stupid.
Granted, the loud words would be followed by soft words explaining why Lime was getting shouted at.
2050638 Perhaps, but if you didn't know the whole story then who would you believe: your most faithful servant and one of your closest mortal friends, or the holier-than-thou nephew who constantly makes an ass of himself?
2050661
The assumption I'm making is that Luna already will have hurled her high-volume insults at Blueblood. If she later learns the full story, Luna will be angry, and it will be Lime she will be angry at.
2009837
Next chapter... perhaps. He's still a stammering dolt. So he might try and just muck it all up. I'll see how it goes.
2050707
Just wait until you see. As it turns out you're both a little right and wrong.
2013072
Connie and Blueblood deserve that kind of feeling. Imagine if this was a romantic comedy. Blueblood would be some weird combination of Zach Gallifiniakis/Seth Rogen and someone cultured, like Jeremy Irons or similar.
Sh@t just got real.
I can finally say, without a doubt...
I have no idea what is going on.
But I am still going to keep reading.
I have absolutely no idea what is going on here. I'm trying to piece together what is happening, but I got nothing.
Wow, Prince got better moves than I. And here I was, thinking that the usual "You smell nice" was the apex of flattery