After Prince Blueblood and Pinkie Pie met at the Gala, he'd expected it to be a one off thing, like so many times before. So why is he finding it so hard to tell her that?
After Prince Blueblood and Pinkie Pie met at the Gala, he'd expected it to be a one off thing, like so many times before. So why is he finding it so hard to tell her that?
Set in the The Lunaverse and taking place shortly after the Gala.
My entry to the June 2013 writing 'more than a thousand' challenge
18/12/2013 - I have revised the story (mostly chapter one to fit the changes to the Gala story) there is also some tidying up of the grammar. Thanks to Georg with his help.
As the old song went there must be at least fifty ways to leave your lover. He was sure he'd used at least that number himself, in fact there were probably over one thousand of them. 'It's not you, it's me', sleeping with her sister, not returning her letters, declaring that you’re gay, faking your own death.
"Whatcha thinking about Bluie?" asked the puffy pink pony currently reclining across his lap. "I know, let me guess. Is it about whether the clouds look down at us and talk about what we remind them of?" she put on a deep voice, "'You see that pony down there, if you squint and turn your head it looks just like a cloud and that one looks like a cupcake' or is it whether cakes want to be eaten? ‘Cause it’s probably not that fun to be eaten but if they didn't want to be eaten why would they taste so good? or is it whether the word succotash or guacamole is funnier or maybe succomole or guacatash?"
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
"Yes, Pinkie that's exactly what I'm thinking about", said Prince Blueblood smiling down at her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Blueblood thought back to when he had first met Pinkie, only a week ago now, it had been the worst night of his life, and possibly the best. He had literally walked into her at the Gala and despite there being many more suitable companions he could have spent the night with there had been something about her. They’d spent the evening talking and drinking, well she had done almost all of the talking but both of them had been drinking. Then his world had fallen apart when Trixie had arranged for that creature Zizanie to dose many of the guests with truth poison, leading to a near riot. The discordian had been captured and she’d told Luna everything and then Luna had... her reaction still hurt. What do you do when a goddess tells you that you’re leading your life wrong? That you are corrupt and sicken her? He’d spent all of his life continuing his family's quest to regain the position lost by their ancestor, but to now be told he had been doing it the wrong way, that Luna would never forgive him? His entire life had been yanked out from under his hooves.
He was just outside of the Selenic Cathedra trying to get away. He didn’t have an objective in mind just to get away from the shame and fear. The place was in chaos as the entire Night Court tried to flee after their humiliation, adding to them were many Gala guests still milling around as well as numerous onlookers. He was staggering through the crowd almost in a daze when he saw a flash of pink.
There she stood, part of a small group of guests from Ponyville hanging around the palace, she was, as always, nattering away while her companions had thousand yard stares, probably indicating she had been talking at them for a while. She somehow spotted him and began hopping towards him with a happy cry of “Bluie!”
He tried to pull himself together, to put on a brave face, ears up, he couldn’t show weakness. “Miss Pie, why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be on your way home?”
“No silly. The train doesn’t leave for a few hours yet and I was looking for you because my Pinkie Sense told me I should. It went leg twitch, leg twitch, blink, blink, sneeze which means that stallion you met at the party is having an personality crisis, it’s easy to mix up with twitch, blink, blink, twitch, sneeze which is I forgot to go grocery shopping but I know I did the shopping before I left so It’s almost certainly the first one.”
He blinked and decide that he was far too shell shocked and either too drunk or not drunk enough to try and understand that, he just wanted to get home and then... actually he didn’t know what he wanted to do, just not be here, or anywhere.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t deal with you right now, I have to go,” he briskly pushed past the pink pony, ears lowered.
She was not put off in the slightest and started to bounce along beside him, “Are you sure because you don’t look very happy and if it’s one thing Pinkie’s good at its making ponies happy, well it’s not the only thing I’m good at, I can cook, and dance, and sing, oh and I’m not a bad GM either.”
He wasn’t really listening, “Please just leave me alone.” His facade cracked for a moment, “I don’t think I deserve to be happy,” he said morosely.
She stopped dead and stared at him as if he’d grown a second head, “Don’t be silly. Everypony deserves to be happy.”
He hunched down and started to walk faster, almost a canter, “I don’t.”
She began to hop even faster, “Yes you do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do.”
“Don’t, don’t.”
“Do, Do, Do times infinity.”
“I just don’t,” he said with finality.
“Why not?” she said crystal blue eyes wide, staring into his soul, if he had one.
His pain and self-loathing spilled over, “Because I’m an evil, selfish, corrupt, greedy, bad, bad, pony!” he yelled.
“Who says so?”
“Luna does! You know, Alicorn of the Moon, ruler of Equestria, mother to us all, A GODDESS TOLD ME I WAS EVIL!” Tears started to roll down his face, as he let out his shame, “I’ve done things, I knew they weren’t totally good, or moral or legal but everypony was doing it. It was just how the Night Court worked. Luna never said anything about it so I just assumed she approved. I just wanted to be important, to make my family great again, that’s what my whole life was about. But now, she was so angry, her eyes, she was so ashamed of us all, ashamed of me. I’ll never amount to anything now, generations of work ruined.”
As his anger and shame broke Pinkie just stood there letting it all wash over her. She leaned forward slightly and held out a leg. “Hugs?” she said.
He shrugged off her grasp, “You think a hug will fix this?” he roared in her face.
Pinkie wasn’t intimidated at all. “Of course, silly. A hug makes anything better. Hugs are like the sugar in the cake of life.”
He collapsed forward, sobbing, burying his head in the warm safe tangle of her mane like a foal hiding from a storm.
She was right.
A hug makes anything better.
He wasn’t entirely sure how they made their way back to his town house; the journey passed as a blur of tears and shame. He remembered telling her about all that had happened and although he couldn’t remember her words, he knew that she forgave him. He remembered the two of them falling into bed together and he drifted off to sleep holding her, like a foal clinging to its mother.
He awoke slowly, the sun was just starting to rise indicating that he had been asleep for little more than an hour. Normally he’d only just be going to bed now, but the events of last night had left him physically and mentally exhausted. Despite the low throb of his traditional morning hangover, there was an underlying sense of peace around his mind, as if the turmoil of last night had drifted away for the moment, leaving only the lingering scent of pancakes. He stretched, feeling his muscles complain, he felt like something was missing. A questing hoof found a rapidly cooling furrow in the sheets next to him. She had gone, he felt strangely sad about that, it was a common enough occurrence, but normally he was the one leaving rather than the one being left. The empty dent in the sheets felt like his chest, cold and empty, with nothing to fill it.
He opened his eyes, Pinkie’s muzzle was a few inches from his face, she was looking down at him, blue eyes wide. “Morning Bluie!”
With a yell he rolled away from the vision, there was a thump as he fell off of the opposite side of the bed.
She continued without a pause “Breakfast is almost ready, I told you I was a good cook, maybe we can go to a dance some time and I can show you how good I am at that, or I could run a game for you.”
He poked his head over the bed. “What were you doing?”
“Watching you sleep. Mamma used to say you see a stallion’s true face when they’re sleeping and if you don’t like what you see you can cut off their-" Blueblood's eyes bulged "-access to you."
He was intrigued, despite the underlying creepiness of her actions. “As I still have my, access, I take it you liked what you saw?”
“I saw a very handsome stallion, who’s made some bad decisions, but who knows they were bad and wants to be better, who was drooling.”
He considered for a moment, could he really make things better, could he be a good pony, make Luna proud? Then his stomach rumbled. “Where is that smell coming from? The kitchens are at the other end of the house.”
“I know, they’re so far away and the corridors are so long and boring, all that white and blue, not a touch of pink, well except me. I know how great it is to wake up to the smell of cooking pancakes so I made them here.” She stepped aside, revealing that the rug had been pushed aside and a small metal rubbish bin full of burning wood - hopefully from the fireplace - had been placed in the empty space. Sitting over the fire, braced across a complicated stand made up of the Blueblood family silver forks, all twisted together into a complicated weave, was a simple frying pan. And in that pan, was heaven. Light and fluffy golden pancakes, wafting a gentle aroma up his nose that grabbed a firm grip on the cognitive portion of his brain and firmly flipped the 'off' switch.
He stared for a full minute, brain ticking over all the things that were wrong about this, then he decided, what the Tartarus, he was hungry.
Dexterously gripping a spatula in her mouth Pinkie flipped a pancake onto a plate, one of the priceless ones his great-grandmother had had imported from Neighpon before he was born, and presented it to him. “There’s no syrup,” she said apologetically.
He used his telekinesis, which caused a twinge in his head, to lift the offered treat and took a bite. And then another. And another. Until the plate was nearly clean and making him seriously consider the possibility of licking it like a commoner just to get the last few golden crumbs. After barely resisting the urge, he sat the plate down carefully to one side and looked up at his eccentric houseguest.
"I'm on a diet. I'm surprised you found any of the ingredients for these.”
“I didn't. There, wasn’t even a mouthful of anything good in the house, not even a mouse’s mouthful. I looked everywhere, even the bathroom in case you like to snack while you shower, like me. Luckily I carry everything I need to make pancakes with me at all times, in case of pancake emergencies.” She stuck a leg into her mane up to the elbow and rummaged around before withdrawing a block of butter. ”But I forgot the syrup.”
Blueblood stared and swallowed hard as she started to rummaging in her tail as well. “That’s all right. I prefer them like this, or with some blueberries.”
“Blueberries, because you’re Blueblood,” she announced, as if she had just solved some great mystery. “As I’m Pinkie, I should like pancakes and pinkberries.” She bit into a pancake, “Are they a thing or did I make them up?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“I’ll ask Carrot Top when I get home, she knows all about plants and stuff. That reminds me, I’ll have to go soon. I promised the Cakes I’d help them open the bakery so I have to catch the first train.”
“Of course,” he said, “You can use my bathroom to freshen up first, you apparently already know where it is.” He looked down at her somewhat bedraggled dress. “I’ll look for some saddlebags for you to take that home in.”
“Thanks,” she replied with her trademark grin and bounced into the on-suite, as he looked for the saddlebags he heard the sound of the shower and felt his headache start to grow, he’d need to do something about it.
While Pinkie washed Blueblood moved to another room and retrieved a bottle of hangover cure, it was a family servants recipe. From past experience he knew that it would either cure the condition in a few minutes or would purge his body of alcohol from any possible exit, in either case his hangover would be gone in an hour and either he would feel better or more wretched, it was a 50/50 chance.
He rested his head against the cool bottle of the concoction, for the first time in many hours he had a few minutes to think to himself. Last night had been a game changer in almost every way. He had expected to come out of the night with a raft of blackmail material but now, he had been one of the few Night Court members not to have split their secrets, but Luna’s reaction, he shuddered remembering. It was one thing to understand what you were doing was wrong, although if you were doing it then it wasn’t really wrong just necessary, and another to be told it was wrong by one of the most powerful creatures in creation. Even if he did change his ways, would he know how to and would everyone else? And then there was Pinkie, he’d told her everything, everything, she could destroy him, still he knew some ponies that could ensure her silence, suddenly at the thought his stomach turned and he almost spread the pancakes she’d made over the floor. No, he would not think that way, things like that had led to this situation, and he couldn’t do that to her, she’d helped him, brought him hope when he had none.
He slammed a hoof onto the table, this was Trixie’s fault, she’s tricked him, she’d planned this.
Suddenly, there was a knocking on the door,he opened it telekinetically, without standing. He half expected Trixie herself to be standing there but instead it was somepony almost as hateful to him. Dirt Digger, the pale green unicorn stallion had an off black mane which he insisted on slicking back with far too much grease. He one of the bottom feeders that hung around the court. He thought of himself as a skilled blackmailer, but so far he’d just been lucky that he hadn’t been crushed by one of the bigger players.
“What do you want Dirt?” growled Blueblood his head ache increasing.
Digger winced at the use of his unloved first name and put on what he thought was a winning grin, it showed far too many teeth, “Blueblood my old friend. I’ve just heard what happened at the Gala.”
“Yes, I didn’t think I saw you there,” noted Blueblood, he knew there was no way that a low life like Dirt would be able to obtain a ticket.
“I thought about going, but I decided I’d rather have a private party with Buttercup Fields,” he purred with a sideways leer.
Blueblood’s stomach churned, Buttercup was the daughter of Baron Rolling Fields she was a nice mare, very attentive to her aging father and quite popular around court, she undertook a lot of charity work. As a favour to her father he’d acted as her escort to a ball once, she’d been quite delightful company if a little dull. He couldn’t imagine what muck Dirt had managed to dig up for her to have anything to do with him. “Why are you here Dirt?”
Uninvited the green unicorn wandered into the kitchen and sat down in a chair, “I hear that all of a sudden everypony and his dog decided to spill all their dirty little secrets. Everypony but you, lucky that.”
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing, just that that puts you in a rather good position and that you might be in need of a skilled ‘aide’” he preened for a moment, “To help you with your recent windfall.”
For a moment Blueblood considered the situation, it might be possible to turn this event to his advantage, then he looked at Digger. The stallion was so eager to ruin other pony’s lives he was practically vibrating on the spot. Did Blueblood want to be like him? Maybe twenty four hours ago, he would have accepted, but now he thought of another pony just as lively as Dirt only she used the energy to make ponies happy not destroy them.
Blueblood made up his mind and his lip curled. “Get out,” he ordered in a low voice.
“Now, now Bluie, be reasonable..”
“Get Out!” he repeated pushing the table aside,”I never want to see you here again and I never want to even hear of you even being in the same room as Buttercup.”
“Now you can’t stop me being with my marefriend,” stuttered Dirt backing away from the enraged stallion.
“Ha! Marefriend, don’t make me laugh! We both know no mare would be with you without being paid or forced.”
“You can’t talk to me like that!”
“Yes I can Dirt! I think you’ve forgotten who you are, you are nothing, I could destroy you without any consequences. Given what she said Luna would probably thank me for it. Now. Get. Out!”
With that Diggers nerve broke and he fled from the room slamming the door behind him.
Blueblood was still fuming when a few seconds later a cleaner Pinkie hopped into the room wearing his saddlebags, the sight calmed him and brought a warm feeling to his belly.
“I’ve got to go now,” she said, “The train’s leaving soon and if I miss it I’ll have to run all the way home and that’s a long way, maybe they’d lend me one of those carts with the push up and down things, those look like fun.”
“It’s been nice meeting you Ms Pie,” said Blueblood bowing, he offered her his hoof. She bounded up to him and to his surprise planted her lips straight on his, she tasted like pure sugar and sent a bolt of electricity to his already stunned brain. He tried to pull back but for some reason their lips refused to disconnect. She swung around, heading backwards towards the door and helplessly he followed. They were at the door before they finally separated leaving Blueblood feeling lightheaded.
“Buh-bye!” she called, waving in. “I have to get back to Ponyville to help with opening the bakery and ordering new stuff for the Cakes! Ooh, but I’ll come by this weekend! And I’ll bring syrup!”
Blueblood blinked, then smiled wickedly at Digger, who was still skulking by the door before looking past him and at Pinkie Pie. “And blueberries!” he called.
“Okie-doky-loki!” Pinkie called back.
Digger snarled slightly and then scurried off.
Suddenly all that had happened hit Blueblood and he slumped to the ground, his head in a whirl. He and the other members of the court would have to do something about Digger and his ilk. They were too stupid to realise how thin the ice they were skating on was and would bring down their monarch’s wrath on their own if they weren't careful. Still he could worry about that later, there was something else that had been said, it was on the tip of his tongue, something Pinkie had said.
Ooh, but I’ll come by this weekend!
He gasped his hangover cure and chugged it back, gagging at the taste. Where had she gotten the idea that this was more than a one-off thing? Was it something he’d said? Still it would be nice to see her again. Despite the physical warmth of the rising sun, the house already seemed to be somewhat darker and colder without her. How had she put it? 'The corridors are so long and boring, all that white and blue, without a touch of pink.' He clamped down on that thought relentlessly and tried to put it to one side. She was a distraction he did not need, not now. He was going to have to dump her somehow.
Suddenly there was a rumbling in his guts, the hangover cure was starting its work and it looked like he’d drawn the short straw. He staggered towards the bathroom, but didn’t quite make it in time.
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Because she was there when he needed her the most.
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Because she was there when he needed her the most.
The next few days passed quickly for Blueblood. The members of the Night Court that had not fled to their estates for the summer were skittish, they were trying to come to terms with the new rules of the game and keeping an eye on anyone crazy enough to try and test Luna’s patience. To Bluebloods satisfaction Dirt Digger seemed to have dropped out of sight.
Still despite being busy he often found Pinkie in his thoughts, he’d just be minding his own business then he’d find himself thinking, what was she doing now? Or what would she think of this or that? It was infuriating, he’d completely changed several of his plans purely on the idea that he thought she wouldn’t like them. Why was he like this? What was it about her he found so captivating?
He needed to cut her away, excise her from his life so he could get back to being himself again. His first idea was to just return to his family estate for a few weeks, the court was officially on holiday so a visit was overdue, even if it did mean spending time with his parents. Pinkie could come to his town house if she wanted, but he wouldn’t be there, she’d get bored and get out of his life.
However, that just seemed cruel, she had helped him when he was low, he decided to write to her instead, she deserved that much at least. He could tell her that he had enjoyed her company but they just didn’t belong together. Maybe send a token of his affections, flowers, maybe dipped in chocolate, she’d like that or just skip the flowers and get her chocolate.
He was sure there would be tears on her side and although no doubt she would always think of him as the ‘one that got away’ she would eventually move on. In a few years she would probably find some earth pony commoner, a chimney sweep or blacksmith of something and probably have lots of children. She’d be happy in a low class kind of way. He brushed aside the feeling of how utterly wrong the idea of her crying was and the brief stab of anger at the idea of her being with someone else, yes he would write to her, after supper.
Tonight’s meal was a simple enough fare, a vegetable broth for starters and a soft cheese salad main course. The meal was carefully balanced by his dietician to keep his physique perfect. He sat down at the dining table feeling very small, it was designed to seat several dozen, despite the sun still streaming in the room still seemed grey, what had she called his home, ‘his big boring house’? He dutifully began to munch through the food, it tasted bland, he suddenly craved pancakes. He shook his head and started to compose the letter in his head.
****
Dear Ms Pie (No to formal)
Hiya Pinkie (Too far the other way, although it did sound like her)
Dear Pinkie
I appreciate the support you gave me on the night of the Gala, however, I may have mislead you as to my intentions, I have no interest in meeting with you again (Liar!) and I apologize for anything I said which might have suggested otherwise (like not saying anything when you suggested you visit this weekend just because it made Dirt uncomfortable). Although I think of you fondly (and frequently; I thought of our kiss in a meeting with Puissance. Puissance, for Luna’s sake she’s like a walking bucket of cold water) this can go no further and I cannot see you anymore, ever. (Ever, ever, ever, ever, that’s a long time.)
Yours sincerely
Viscount Prince Blueblood (The worst pony ever, who can’t even write a letter properly in his own head!)
****
Groaning in frustration, he looked up, there in the centre of the table was a small box, a very pink box, wrapped in sparkly ribbon and with an intricate bow on top. Had that always been there? He looked around the room, the walls were mostly white and blue, his house’s colours, maybe a little pink did brighten up the old place.
“Duty,” he called. Duty Bound, his stallionservant seemed to materialise next to him.
“Yes, Sir.” intoned the black unicorn, he had served the house of Blueblood for as long as Prince had lived and probably generations before, although elderly he had a timeless quality to him, as if he was part of the house itself and the various members were only borrowing him.
“Where did that come from?” asked Blueblood, waving a hoof at the offending box.
“It was delivered this morning, sir. It was addressed to ‘Bluie at his big boring house’, luckily the postal service was more efficient than normal and it made its way here. It has been checked for traps and came up clear so I brought it to you. A present from an admirer I assume.”
Carefully, as if it might explode at any point, Blueblood levitated the box towards himself. Once it was in front of him he tugged at the bow, the whole box seemed to open up like a flower, somehow a cloud of glitter shot up and he swore he heard a fanfare as well. Within was a single cupcake.
The cupcake was just ... her. Small and covered in lashings of pink frosting, it looked like her. It was definitely not perfect, it had been made with more enthusiasm than skill, it was subtly lopsided and some of the icing had dripped off but that just made it unique, just like her. He levitated the confectionary towards himself and sniffed, a sweet odour, like honey, filled his nose, it even smelt like her. He took a second sniff, his mouth was watering. He really shouldn’t eat it, his diet was very carefully balanced, this pink thing was probably made of pure sugar, he’d have to spend hours with his personal trainer to work it off.
It would be so bad for him.
He bit into it.
It tasted so goooood.
Another bite and it was gone, gone forever and he would write his letter and never see another like it, ever.
He growled in frustration and pushed the now empty box away.
“Is something vexing you, sir,” Blueblood stared, Duty hardly ever spoke without being spoken to.
“There is this filly,” he began.
“Your pink companion from a few days ago?”
Prince was taken aback, “You know of her?”
“I was present when she was here, but as always I was very,” the old stallion seemed to radiate pride for second, “discrete.”
“I’m trying to write to her, to say goodbye, but it’s hard.” his tone was almost a whine. “She’s just a commoner, she would do nothing for my house or my prospects, but I can’t bring myself to break things off. Has this ever happened before, Duty?”
“Certainly, many of your line have had, dalliances, with common stock, my lord. But I can only think of one case where, it went further, your uncle Caesar.”
“Caesar? I don’t have an Uncle Caesar,” replied Blueblood sounding puzzled.
“He was disowned by your grandfather long before you were born, my lord. His name has been removed from most of the family records. He married a woodcutter, I believe.”
Blueblood’s interest was piqued, “What became of him?”
“The union was not fruitful, but I believe they adopted, they were happy until they were both killed in a fire some years ago.”
“Why would he do that?” demanded Blueblood pounding his hooves on the table, “Give up all he had to live in some muddy shack in the middle of nowhere cutting down trees and then dying a meaningless death.”
“I can only tell you what he told your grandfather, sir. He said he wanted to be with her because she made him happy, my lord.” With that the old retainer turned on his heels and stiffly walked from the room, leaving Blueblood alone.
She made him happy. The words echoed around Blueblood’s head. Does she make me happy, he thought. He remembered eating pancakes with her, yes, he had been happy. A letter spontaneously appeared in his head, far easier to write than the previous one, but he still couldn’t put quill to parchment.
****
Dear Pinkie
You make me happy.
Please be here soon.
Yours sincerely
Bluie
****
He couldn’t bring himself to write to her to tell him it was over, and he couldn’t write to tell her how he truly felt, both were beyond him.
What was he going to do?
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Because she was there when he needed her the most.
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Because she was there when he needed her the most.
Because she made him happy.
Blueblood decided that in order to cure himself of the strange sickness he was suffering he would meet Pinkie Pie in person again. Obviously his memory was playing tricks on him, if he met her face to face he could renew his recollection of how annoying she was and then he’d be able to let her go. At least that was what he told himself, he thought his logic might be a little strained.
He was taking the train to Ponyville, like a commoner, not even in first class. He could not risk the press finding out where he was going so he was incognito, his cutie mark covered with a long white cloak. He remained impeccably dressed under it though, there were limits to how under cover he would let himself be. He kept his head down avoiding eye contact with his fellow passengers, he caught himself smiling as a herd of foals stampeded down the carriage playing some idiotic game, giggling and screaming at each other, they sounded like her. He shook his head, just his memory playing tricks.
Once he arrived at Ponyville station he was shocked by the state of the town, most buildings had at least one window boarded up and several were taped off as being uninhabitable. He remembered the curse that had befallen the town and felt a bit ashamed of his own, small, part in delaying the funds being released to allow the rebuilding to commence. Still there were signs that repairs had been started. Despite it being summer the skies were overcast, at least the cloud stocks has been replenished.
After wandering the streets for a few minutes Blueblood realised that he didn’t actually know where Pinkie lived, he couldn’t believe that he had not realised this flaw in his plan earlier. Still the town wasn’t that big it shouldn’t be that hard to find her, he knew she worked as a baker. He briefly considered using his mark to find her, but its goals and his own did not seem to match when Pinkie was involved.
It took him longer than expected to find the bakery, a place called Sugar Cube Corner apparently, but once he found it, he could think of nowhere else she would be. Even the place she worked reminded him of her, it was covered with (presumably fake) icing and topped with what looked like a pink cupcake. Gathering his courage Blueblood pushed the door open and stepped into the interior. He had taken no more than a single step into the shop before he was assaulted by a pink blur.
“Bluie!” squealed the blur wrapping itself around him with all of its limbs, “You’re here, did you get my present? I didn’t know your address so I talked to Ditzy and she said to describe it and I thought it was a big house, but Canterlot has lots of big houses and the biggest is the castle and princess Luna is blue as well so it might have ended up with her, which would be great because I don’t think she gets enough cupcakes but I made that one for you so I wracked my noggin for a way to describe your place and I thought it was just so boring so I put that and you got it and you’re here so it all worked out. Although I might have sent out a few dozen other cakes as well and other ponies might have gotten them, but that’s OK because I’m sure they’ll enjoy them.” She finally stopped for a breath.
‘See,’ Blueblood’s brain screamed at him, ‘See how annoying she is, just walk away you don’t even have to say anything, just walk away.’
“Pinkie,” he stuttered. Then he looked into her eyes they were like the bluest skies he’d ever seen, he couldn’t bring himself to make those skies fill with rain. “I came to see you.” he continued lamely.
She gave him another rib crushing hug and turned to the other occupants of the room, a lanky yellow stallion and a plump blue mare who were looking across the counter at them. “Mr and Mrs Cake can I please have the afternoon off, pllleeeeaaasseee!” begged Pinkie.
The stallion stared at him suspiciously while the mare sighed, “Why don’t you finish off the last batch of muffins, while we talk to your ‘friend’ here. When you finish you can take the rest of the day off dearie.”
“Okie, dokie, lokie,” replied Pinkie leaping over the counter and dashing into the kitchen behind.
Several awkward moments passed as a suddenly sweating Blueblood was examined by the Cakes, somehow he felt that he came up lacking.
“So your grace, it’s an honour to have you in our shop,” began Mr Cake breaking the silence as he walked to the door and flipped the sign to closed.
“You, know who I am?” he asked, surprised.
“You were all Pinkie would talk about since the Gala,” said Mrs Cake, “She seemed very taken with you.”
Blueblood felt an unexplained burst of pride.
“Pinkie is a very... friendly filly, we wouldn’t want someone to take advantage of her nature,” she continued with a glare.
The pride suddenly popped like a pink balloon to be replaced by a dirty sort of feeling he didn’t recognise. Whatever it was he seemed to be feeling it more often since Luna’s announcement, he wished it would go away. Was that what he was really doing, had he somehow led her on? He hadn’t meant to.
Mr Cake reached behind the counter and lifted a baseball bat, there seemed to be writing carved on the side, Blueblood couldn’t make it out entirely L something and a longer word ending in rence. He dragged his eyes from the bat and into the stallions gaze.
“What we want to know, Prince,” he somehow made the name rhyme with scum, “Is what are your intentions towards our daugh.., our Pinkie?”
Blueblood was taken aback, they were disapproving parents, or whatever they were to Pinkie. He’d never had to deal with this before, most parents considered him quite the catch and were grateful he’d graced their daughter, or son, with his presence. At least that’s what he’d usually assumed. He considered laughing at the idea that these peasants were warning him off, then he thought of the bat, and it wasn’t quite so funny anymore.
“We remember your father from when he was the representative here,” said Mrs Cake, “He was always chasing the fillies, despite being married. He even came on to me, he said he liked a mare with a lot of flesh on her bones,” venom dripped from her words. “Has the apple fallen far from the tree?”
“I intend no harm to Pinkie,” he said as smoothly as he could, trying to ignore the slur on his family name while simultaneously cursing his father womanising ways, the cakes did not seem convinced. “She was very kind to me at the Gala and I came to tell her ...” he stopped, ‘What did I come to tell her?’ He thought, ‘That I didn’t want to see her?’, “I don’t know what I came to tell her, I just need to tell her something, probably something important,” he continued, starting to babble.
A grin spread over Mrs Cakes face, “You seem confused, dearie.”
“Don’t worry,” continued her husband, “That’s normal where Pinkie’s concerned.”
“She’s all wrong for me,” said Blueblood slumping, “She’s not nobility, she won’t help my house, she won’t stop talking but when she’s around everything seems, more. More! The worlds so grey when she’s not with me.”
Mr Cake shared a look of understanding with his wife and crossed the room to give the larger stallion a comforting pat on the back, “The heart wants what the heart wants, the mind just gets dragged along behind. I knew I wanted Cup when I first saw her at the mill.” He smiled at his wife.
“Daddy didn’t approve,” she replied with a look in her eyes that spanned a decade.
“Didn’t approve!” he snorted, “He attacked me, with a whip!”
“Only the once! He’s calmed down since,” she put a hoof to her belly, “and with the new arrivals..”
The door at the back of the shop crashed open as Pinkie tumbled back in, “I’ve finished!” she announced, “Can I go now, can I, can I, please!”
“Of course you can, dearie but don’t stay out too late, we’ll need your help tomorrow,“ said Mrs Cake.
“Okie, dokie, lokie,” replied the pink pony hopping over to Blueblood and taking him by the arm, “So what shall we do?”
Blueblood was a bit taken aback, he hadn’t really thought about what to do, his internal voice screamed that he wasn’t supposed to be doing anything, he was supposed to have dumped her by now and be heading back to Canterlot. “How about showing me around town?” he suggested, “I haven't been here since my father ceased his post as representative, and I didn’t visit often even then.”
“Oooh, that’s a good idea, ‘cause I know all about Ponyville and all the ponies that live in Ponyville. Now where to start?” she thought for a second, “I know, we can start here, this is Sugar Cube Corner,” she held her arms out wide, “This is where I work and make all sorts of scrumptious goodies, and that’s Mrs Cake, and that’s Mr Cake, their my bosses. But they sort of act like my parents,” she said with a sotto voice, “and this is the counter where the Cakes serve cakes to the customers, but at the end of the day we also count out the money we made on it which is I guess why they call it a counter.” She started to point at the goods on the shelves, “This is a donut, they're not actually made of nuts you know, and this is another donut, maybe I should try to make a donut out of nuts, a nut donut or should that be a donut nut or donutnut.”
“Pinkie,” interrupted Mrs Cake, “Maybe you should start your tour outside of the shop?”
“That’s a really good idea, because there's so much more outside than inside,” the pink whirlwind dragged the somewhat dazed Blueblood out the door, the last thing he saw as it closed was Mr Cake tapping the Baseball bat on one hoof.
Pinkie lead Blueblood on a twisting path through Ponyville, surprisingly she seemed to know quite a bit about the history and going ons around the town but tended to hop distractedly from one topic to another. One minute she’d be discussing the unique design of the boutique near the centre of town and who had modelled for the statues on the second floor then suddenly she would zip over the town hall and start discussing some of the mayor's recent decisions (the increase in the sugar tax by a tenth of a percent was apparently not popular and she had almost been banned from the post-tax implementation party for it, almost). In addition Blueblood’s guide did not hesitate to yell a greeting to each pony they passed on the way, many would reply in kind to Pinkie but few seemed to be happy to see the noble, at best he received polite indifference, at worst death glares. It appeared that the nobility was not popular in town right now given the events of the gala and the delay in aid for the town.
The pair had reached the edge of the town itself when a yellow pegasus mare with a blue mane descended from the cloudy skies landing in front of them with a thump. “What are you doing here, Blueblood?” she demanded.
Blueblood was taken aback, she looked familiar but he couldn’t quite put his hoof on her, “Do I know you?” he asked.
The stranger grimaced, “Figures, I guess you don’t remember ‘lumberjacks’ when you run around with Supermodels.” she said bitterly.
“Hiya, Raindrops,” said Pinkie appearing from behind Blueblood, “I’d thinks lumberjacks would be very memorable, particularly if you're a tree, they’d be all ‘No, don’t cut me down’ and the lumberjack would be ‘Sorry, but it’s my job’ and the tree’s would be ‘I’m only two hundred, I’m too young to die’ and then the lumberjack would be all ‘TIMBER!!!’” she mimed chopping down a tree.
Raindrops ignored her, “What are you doing here?” she repeated.
“I came here to visit Miss Pie, she was of... aid to me after the debacle at the Gala so I felt I had to tell her something face to face.” Blueblood wasn’t sure what he was going to say next so it was probably just as well that Pinkie butted in.
“Yep, he was all sadie after Luna shouted at him so I did my very, very best to cheer him up and make him smile, then we went to his house and talked all night and now I’m his marefriend.”
Blueblood blinked, “Wait, that’s not exactly...”
It was Raindrop’s time to interrupt, “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, "you're a small town earth pony from the middle of nowhere,” she pointed at Pinkie, “and you’re a powerful, handsome and evil noble,” she pointed to Blueblood, who agreed until she got to the last part, “and your eyes met in then the middle of a crowded party, then he took you to his mansion, to make mad passionate love in front of the fireplace. I bet his parents even disapprove.” She shuddered and her eyes began to sparkle, “Now his frozen heart has melted under the warmth of your pure love and he’s come to your home town to reveal his feelings to you, it’s just so perfect.” her voice rose in tone until the last words were just a squeak. Raindrops stood staring into the distance for a second before shaking herself, “You, should go to the west meadows, I’ll make them... I mean they should be so romantic.” With that the yellow mare ascended into the sky again and disappeared amongst the clouds.
“What was that about?” asked Blueblood astounded. “Anyway, about you being my marefriend...”
Pinkie shrugged and grabbed his tail in her teeth, “‘ou heard the mare, ‘ere going to the ‘est meadows” she mumbled, starting to drag Blueblood along.
The route to the meadows took them through some patches of wildflowers. Pinkie picked several and placed them in her mane, Blueblood had to concede that they looked good on her. As always his companion kept nattering on about everything that came into her head, he tried to tune her out while he thought about his current situation. Clearly Pinkie thought their relationship was something more than it was, but he was having difficulty bringing himself to tell her otherwise and only partially because he couldn’t get a word in edgeways.
It was odd he mused, she seemed to make everything around her more real, the flowers she’d put into her hair were the brightest he’d ever seem. She seemed to be highlighted by a shaft of light cutting through the clouds, almost like a spotlight. He realised he was staring and dropped his gaze. As they travelled, the skies started to clear as the clouds scooted out of the way. By the time they reached the meadows themselves the sky was almost clear apart from a few scattered clouds, one of which seemed to be following them.
Suddenly Pinkie lashed out at him, hitting him on the shoulder with a hoof and bouncing away. For a moment he was stunned, she’d attacked him! Had this all been a trap? But instead of being filled with anger, he felt sort of brittle inside. “What did you do that for?” he asked brokenly.
In apparent abandonment of the laws of physics she seemed to stop in mid bounce, “Tag, your it, silly.” she announced before sprinting off.
A tiny part of his mind screamed that this was his chance to get away from the crazy mare, to run the other way. But a larger part, paired with his deepest instincts, insisted that he had to follow the herd or be eaten. His hooves seemed to obey the larger part of him and he began to gallop after her. His mind sharpened as the world turned into a green blur around him, the pounding of his hooves on the ground, the sun on his back, his heart pumping in his chest, the flanks of the mare in front of him, that was all that mattered, he felt so alive! Canterlot didn’t matter, the Night Court didn’t matter, his family didn’t matter.
With a sudden burst of speed the unicorn managed to pass the earth pony despite her greater stamina. He was the head of the herd, he was the stallion! He looked back and Pinkie had vanished. Suddenly reason returned to him and he felt very much alone. Slowing to a stop next to a pond he looked around, his companion was nowhere to be seen. “Pinkie?” he panted.
Suddenly with a huge eruption, the pink pony leapt out of the water drenching him from head to flank. “Surprise!” she screamed.
For a second he stood there, soaked, his clothes ruined and fur stained. He blinked and Pinkie froze looking unsure for a moment. The slowly and purposely he stepped towards her, lifting her effortlessly in his hooves he threw her back into the water before leaping in after her.
He surfaced first and used his aura a gather up a globe of water, he waited until Pinkie surfaced before dumping it all over her. In response she gave a shriek and flailed her forearms around splashing him in the face. Eventually, completely soaked, the two ponies dragged themselves onto the shore.
He looked at her, even soaking wet her mane somehow managed to keep its fluffiness and her face its grin although her coat was splattered with pondweed and a frog seemed to have taken up home in her tail.
She looked at him, his clothes were a complete write off and his normally perfectly styled mane lay limp. She began to giggle.
He stared, then gave a laugh.
She shrieked.
He roared.
Together they rolled around in the mud in stitches.
Suddenly Blueblood stopped laughing because his mouth was full, Pinkie was kissing him, or was he kissing her? It didn’t matter, he wrapped his arms around her it just felt right.
From somewhere above a lone cloud gave out a squeeing sound.
After a long, long moment they separated. He propped himself up on one leg looking at her, in her dishevelled state she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She scrambled back to her hooves, “We should go back to my place,” she said.
“Why, what’s wrong with here?” he said gesturing around.
“There’s something there for an extra special, super,” she looked up at the sky, “private, party,” and began to trot away.
“What’s that?” he asked getting up.
She looked back, eyes smouldering, “A bed”, she replied.
He was on his hooves and after her like a shot, this time she didn’t let him catch her until they were back at Sugarcube Corner.
By the time Pinkie and Blueblood arrived back at the shop it was closing up and the Cakes were busy in the front so they crept up the backstairs on the tips of their hooves trying to stifle their giggles. She carefully opened the door to her room and they snuck in.
The room was as expected very, very pink. It was quite small but seemed to be entirely filled with Pinkieness. A primitive mural covered all of the longest wall, in the centre was a pony shaped pink blob he assumed was Pinkie, behind her were four larger ponies, two which appeared to be Mr and Mrs Cake the others were a brown pony with a large black hat and a pale grey mare. Beside Pinkie were two smaller ponies one light grey and one a blue/grey colour. A final figure that he could only assume was himself stood to the other side of Pinkie, the paint looking fresher than the rest of the picture. Behind were hundreds of tiny figures in a whole rainbow of colour, he recognised a few from the streets of Ponyville.
Streamers and balloons covered the ceiling while a few discarded items of clothes and other party paraphernalia covered the floor. He noticed her party dress was carefully folded and hung on the door while the saddle bags he’d given her were poking out from under a single bed which took up most of one side of the room. The bed itself was dominated by a small green reptile of some sort. It stared blankly as its owner and Blueblood shut the door behind themselves. Although its expression seemed entirely blank Blueblood got the feeling that it didn’t like him.
“I’m sorry Gummy,” said Pinkie, hopping over to the alligator, “But Mummy’s going to need the bed for a special adult party which baby alligators shouldn’t see.” She scooped up the small reptile and gave it a hug before carrying it into an adjoining room. Although, it’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, Blueblood felt like a volcanic rage was now being directed at him, the creature blinked, one eye at a time as it disappeared from view, threatening a slow death to the noble unicorn. The sound of running water could be heard from the other room.
While Pinkie was occupied, Blueblood sat on the bed and had a few moments to think for himself. This was hardly an unusual situation for him, he was every inch the perfect stallion, mares and stallions often threw themselves at him, often ones far richer and more attractive than Pinkie. However, this felt different, he was ...nervous? As if this would change things, for once he wasn’t thinking if she was good enough for him but was he good enough for her? He’d come here to break up with her and here he was in her bedroom, looking back he couldn’t quite see how one had led to the other, whenever he was around her things seemed to get... confusing.
The water stopped and Pinkie hopped back into the room closing the door behind her.
“Pinkie, are you sure you want to do this?” asked Blueblood with a slight quaver in his voice.
“Of course, silly,” she said plopping herself down on the bed next to him.
“But, why? Why me?”
“Because, you listened to me when I talk, oh not to every word, ever I don’t listen to everything I say but you listened to what I mean. And because you felt bad when Luna shouted at you, a bad pony wouldn’t have felt bad about being bad so you can’t be a bad pony. And honestly, you’re fun to be around and as a plus you’re the most handsome stallion I’ve ever seen, even more than Big Mac and even Bon Bon wants him and she’s Lyrasexual.” she looked away coyly, “Why? Don’t you want me? Don’t you think I’m pretty?”
“Pinkie you’re beautiful, but I’ve hurt a lot of ponies in the past and I don’t think I want to hurt you, maybe we should wait?”
“I’m a big filly, I know what I want. You. I don’t think you want to hurt anyone, I trust you. Let’s have some fun!”
She turned to him, blue eyes wide and he saw himself reflected in them, and he wasn’t Viscount Prince Blueblood, he was just a stallion who was desired by a mare. Then she pounced on him and pushed him back onto the bed and for a time nothing else mattered.
Afterwards Blueblood lay drifting in and out of consciousness, spread across the small bed with his lover lying on him gently hugging him. That had been an ... experience, he though. She was, as was expected, extremely energetic. Although hardly a virgin, she was less experienced that many of his previous lovers but had made up for this with her inventiveness and with just being so much fun to be with. She had also been very loud, his ears were still ringing, he made a note to soundproof his room for whenever Pinkie visited ‘his boring old house’ in the future.
He had surprised himself as well, often he knew he was a less than considerate lover, most of his conquests had been trying to get something out of him so he felt nothing about getting what he wanted from them first. Pinkie, however, only seemed to want to make him happy and to his surprise he found that he wanted the same for her, again and again.
Even sated (He hoped, the spirit was willing but the flesh was rather bruised) she was not still, occasionally twitching one of her limbs or giggling softly in her sleep, although that might have had something to do with him softly drawing circles on her plush belly with his hoof. The same annoying voice he kept hearing in his head noted that this wasn’t the best way to leave her, still maybe now he’d had her, he’d want her less. He tried to squash it but it remained, taunting him.
Suddenly there was a knocking at the door, “Pinkie, are you in there?” came the muffled voice of Mrs Cake, sounding a little awkward.
Pinkie’s head shot up, waking instantly, “Coming,” she yelled, then giggled at her joke. She wriggled round to face Blueblood, quickly kissing him, “Ohh, you should hide.”
“Hide?” he replied, gathering his senses and looking around, neither the bed or the small cupboard seemed large enough to hold him, the only clear option being the bathroom, but he had second thoughts about risking his life with the wild animal within it.
“Quick, out the window,” she said hopping out of bed and yanking open the portal leading into the evening air.
He flopped out of bed and staggered towards the window, his rear legs were having trouble holding his weight. He looked down, the ground was two stories away and there didn’t seem to be a way to climb down. He turned to Pinkie to ask how he was supposed to get down to find that she had produced a number of balloons from nowhere and, her hooves a blur, started to knot them together to form a growing ladder. He boggled for a second before she threw one end of the newly formed ladder out of the window and gestured for him to follow it.
Thinking this was one of the strangest things he had ever done, Blueblood tested his weight on the bizarre object and found that it was stronger than it seemed. He swung himself out of the window and clambering to the ground as he heard further knocking from the bedroom door.
Just has his wobbly hooves touched the ground he heard a gasp from behind him, “Blueblood?”
He turned to find a blue unicorn mare wearing a star covered cloak and hat stomping towards him, behind her a blue unicorn stallion with a blue and white curly mane looked on with interest. “Trixie?” Blueblood exclaimed.
The mare jabbed him in the chest with a hoof forcing him to sit down heavily, something poked him in the stomach. “What are you doing here? You know what Luna will do to you if you try anything,” her train of thought suddenly seemed to derail, “Why are you so messy?”
Blueblood felt his anger rise, along with his embarrassment, “My whole life does not revolve around you Trixie Lulamoon.” He glared at the blue mare who seemed to remain oblivious, “I am here on personal business.”
Above them Pinkie stuck her head out of the window, “Found you!” she called, “You’re not very good at hide and seek are you? Anyway Mrs Cake told me I have to get up extra early for an extra special order tomorrow, so I better get some sleep, see you later.”
“But, hiding and knocking and...” burbled Blueblood, “Didn’t the Cakes mind us?”
“Oh, they know I’m a grown mare and have special private parties with mares and stallions sometimes, they don’t mind, well not since we fitted the sound proofing. I just thought it was a good time for a game of hide and seek.” she blew a kiss and her head disappeared back into the building.
Trixie looked appalled, “You and her and special private party? Here? Now?” she held out the hoof she’d prodded him with as if she wanted it to be as far from her as possible and seemed to be considering gnawing it off. “You’re a dirty, dirty pony.” she stuttered turning a greenish colour under her coat. Her eye’s tracked down Bluebloods form and then froze. He followed her gaze and found a party hat had somehow ended up between his legs. He used his telekinesis to tear it off and throw it away as he stood again.
Trixie turned and ran with a yell, “Monsieur Bourbon, help me!” she swiftly disappeared around the corner. Her companion watched her go with a sigh then turned back to Blueblood.
“So, you and Pinkie then?” he asked, Blueblood nodded bashfully. “Good taste.” He raised his hoof in front of Blueblood who cautiously bumped his own against it. “Make sure you treat her right, be careful what she feeds you. Oh and tell Notary I said hi.” With these cryptic comments the stallion turned and left, leaving Blueblood standing bewildered.
Eventually, he snapped out of his daze and wandered back to the train station where he managed to clean himself off in the washroom before he caught the last train to Canterlot. He could not sleep during the journey, the events of the day were playing around his head. He didn’t think he’d quite managed to break up with her, something had gone wrong somewhere, but he couldn’t seem to stop smiling, that made him think of her, maybe it was contagious.
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Because she was there when he needed her the most.
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Because she was there when he needed her the most.
Because she made him happy
Because she was fun to be with.
After his return to Canterlot Blueblood spent a few days going through his duties on autopilot. His trip to Ponyville had not helped his condition at all if anything it had gotten worse, Pinkie seemed to be all that he could think about. He’d spent two hours in a meeting with Archduke Fisher, one of the few members of the Night Court still present in Canterlot, apparently discussing trade between their provinces but he didn’t remember a word of it. All he came out with was a notebook full of scribbles of her, some in pornographic detail, luckily his assistant had been paying more attention.
The situation became worse when a horrible thought struck him as he prepared for bed a day later, he hadn’t managed to break up with Pinkie but had she broken up with him? She had sort of kicked him out of her bed after they’d slept together, had she really just wanted to play hide and seek, it seemed unlikely, until you took into account the fact she was Pinkie Pie. If he’d done the same, as he had in the past, he would have thought that this would be the end, but she wasn’t him, she was better than that, wasn’t she? She hadn’t said anything about meeting again, had she just gotten what she wanted and brushed him aside? He felt dirty, used, sick, he didn’t get much sleep that night.
Come the next morning Blueblood decided he had to do something to see if he had been used or not, he checked his social diary. There was a small charity ball being hosted by Fancy Pants over the weekend. Normally he would have put in a desultory appearance and then left, there was nothing for him there, particularly given the current state of the court, but it would be the perfect way to see if Pinkie was still interested in him. He telegraphed her an invitation right away. His internal voice screamed that this was madness, he wanted to leave her and inviting her to a party was not how to do that, he should not be seen in public with her. He was getting tired of that voice and wished it would go and scream at someone else for a change.
He spent the rest of the day pacing anxiously around his apartments, alternating between wishing she would reply and wishing she wouldn’t. When a servant arrived that evening with a telegraph he snatched the paper from her hoof. It was almost laughable that such a small piece of paper could almost bring him to his knees, he downed a shot of vodka to steady his nerves before reading it.
‘Dear Bluie. I love to Party. Will arrive 6pm Saturday. Lots of love and kisses and balloons, Pinkie.’
He stared at it for a while, it didn’t sound like her, apart from the balloons. Then he realised that the telegraph charged by the letter, he guessed a friend, maybe one of the Cakes, had edited her message to stop it bankrupting her.
He felt warm satisfaction for a moment, then it hit him, he’d invited Pinkie Pie to a formal ball, in public. He downed a second Vodka, the voice had been right, this was going to be a disaster.
Blueblood decided to meet Pinkie in person at the station. Originally he was going to wait for her to arrive at his apartments but he found himself impatiently pacing the floor watching the clock and decided he needed to burn off some energy walking to her instead.
Her train arrived on time and he searched through the crowd of tourists for a flash of pink. There she was, still wearing his saddlebags, he felt a surge of pride, and nattering to one of her fellow passengers who looked like she was desperately wishing for Pinkie to take a breath so she could make her excuses and leave.
“Miss Pie!” he called as he trotted over to her.
“Bluie!” she squealed abandoning her previous companion and rushing across the station towards him, she barged past several ponies and leapt clear over one stallion before enfolding Blueblood in a hug and kissing his cheek. He glowed and not entirely in embarrassment, she still liked him.
“How was your trip?” he asked once he’d managed to get untangled.
“It was fun, I played I spy but no-one else seemed interested so I played it against myself, guess what? I won. Oh, oh,” she exclaimed as she reached back into her bags and pulled out a small carton of berries, “Look pinkberries, I asked Carrot Top and they are a thing, you make lemonade out of them, which is odd because you’d think they’d use lemons.” she searched through the bags again, “and I remembered the syrup.” she held up a jar of the gooey fluid, it had a large crack in it and was leaking. “That’s not good.” she scrambled in the bag again to reveal the same party dress she had worn to the Gala last week, its folds were matted with the sugary mess. “Oh, Rarity’s going to do that eye twitch thing when she sees this.”
“Do you have anything else to wear?”
“I’ve got another dress but that was for a special time with you,” she opened the other bag and Blueblood got a glimpse of a ruffle skirt and stockings, “You were going to be a tough cowpony from the mild west and I was going to be an innocent dancing girl, I got toy pies and everything. Still I suppose I could go to the party in it.”
The idea seemed attractive to certain parts of Blueblood but he pushed the thought aside, “I don’t think that would be appropriate, Pinkie, maybe we could just not go to the party.” That would solve his problems, they could just spend the weekend together out of the public eye.
She looked shocked, “You can’t not go to a party that would be like heresy or something. I can just go au natural.”
There was a good chance that since Luna had turned up at the Gala naked future fashion trends might go towards minimal or no clothing at social events, thought Blueblood, but it was still early days for that. Anyway he felt like impressing his date with his power and wealth, “You don’t need to do that, we can go shopping.”
“Won’t everything be closed by now?”
“This is not your provincial Ponyville, Miss Pie, this is Canterlot, here everything is open all night.” He took her hoof and led her from the station.
The shop that Blueblood took Pinkie to was called the Clothes Horse, it was a compromise in his mind. He was sure he could have brought her to as low class a shop as he could imagine and she would be happy, and probably look stunning in whatever she chose. However, that didn’t seem right, he told himself that it would cause a scandal if anyone seen on his arm was wearing something... common. However, he didn’t think he could bring himself to take her to the highest class of establishment, even with his influence dresses from those would take weeks to be fitted and ordered, not the hour or so they had. So the Clothes Horse was a compromise, it was fashionable enough to hold acceptable outfits but as an up and coming venture still held off the rack clothes and his power would be enough to influence the owner so he could keep stories of any Pinkieish behaviour quiet.
He left Pinkie to examine some of the clothes, while he talked to the manager, a short brown unicorn stallion, his eyes covered by huge glasses.
“You see my companion over there?” said Blueblood pointing to Pinkie who seemed to be sniffing at a number of hats as if wondering how they would taste.
“Ah, yes sir your ‘companion’” replied the manager raising his eyebrows at the term suggestively. Blueblood decided that because of that he wouldn’t be getting a tip.
“Do you have anything in the shop as beautiful as she is?”
The shop pony weighed up his options for a second, before responding, “No, your grace, however, we do have many things with which to highlight her beauty.”
Blueblood grinned, ‘He might have just gotten his tip back’ he thought. “I think you should get the whole of your staff to see to her needs. Anything she asks for, she gets.”
“Of course my lord.”
“Good, I’m going to be spending an obscene amount of money here.”
The manager looked overjoyed, “Oh, sir, you’re in the right store in the right city for that. Before we start can I ask, exactly how obscene are we talking about?”
Blueblood leaned in closer to the store keeper, “Punching Luna in the face level offensive.” ‘Did I just say that?’ he asked himself, ‘I think Pinkie might be rubbing off on me.’
After a short discussion with the manager the store mares formed a small gaggle around Pinkie and started to communicate in short squeals before rushing off the gather various items of clothing.
Blueblood was set up in a plush chair and given a glass of a, rather excellent, fruit punch while Pinkie paraded in front of him in a variety of outfits to allow him to give his approval.
They ended up buying most of them, although the dress that she decided on for tonight was surprisingly low key for her. It consisted of a tight blue upper layer which clung to her flanks followed by a more expansive white skirt, several pink bows held the ensemble together. Blueblood couldn’t help but notice she was wearing his houses colours.
The only part missing from the outfit was a hat which Pinkie was apparently having difficulty choosing. She noticed one of the shop mares was wearing a blue pillbox, “Oh, do you have one like that?” she asked.
“Give her your hat,” hissed the manger to the assistant. “She wants to give you the hat,” he assured his customer.
Pinkie examined the hat from all sides, then to the astonishment of the staff punched her hoof through it before plopping it on her head and feeding her mane through it, the curly pink locks spread out forming a palm tree of hair. A large broach in the shape of an ice cream cone attached to the side of the hat completed the look.
Blueblood wrote out a large check and handed it to the manager, “I think you’ll find this will cover it all.”
The manager looked at the cheque, then gave a double take, “Thank you sir, this truly is an offensive amount.”
Blueblood’s grin threatened to tear his face apart, “I know.”
The couple left the shop their saddlebags full of clothes, giggling like school foals.
By the time they had arrived at Fancy Pants’s residence, a few hours later, Blueblood’s good cheer had evaporated, to be replaced by a block of ice in his guts. This was going to be a disaster, he thought, it’ll be the end of my social standing and if it is possible for somepony to actually die of embarrassment, my life.
The party was a fairly small affair, as these things went, no more than a hundred guests, it was to drum up support for one of Fancy Pants’s pet charities, starving zebra foals or something like that. The couple were met at the door by a herald, a young unicorn stallion, who asked how they should be announced. Before Blueblood could come up with a reasonable answer Pinkie whispered into the servant ear. The herald raised an eyebrow and the pink pony nodded manically.
“Announcing the arrival of Viscount Prince Blueblood and his companion, Pinkamena Diane Pie, third best baker in Ponyville, bringer of happiness, destroyer of frowns.”
Blueblood’s coat fairly glowed red as dozens of pairs of eyes turned towards the new arrivals, yes he could definitely die of embarrassment, he could feel himself slipping now. Then the tension was broken as the hosts wife, Fleur de Lyse, snorted and broke into a fit of giggles, “That’s funny,” she gasped. After a moment polite laughter started to spread around the room. Pinkie smiled in pride and started to bounce forward into the room pulling Blueblood along behind her.
Pinkie looked at Blueblood and then stopped, “Way that too much?” she asked, “I just wanted to break the ice.”
“It was a little, unusual,” he said, but quickly added, “It certainly got the parties attention.”
Within the hall they were met by the host and his wife who was still recovering from her earlier outburst while a crowd of other ponies positioned themselves, coincidentally, just within hearing range. “I’m glad you could make it Viscount Blueblood,” said Fancy Pants, “and with such a charming companion as well, please to make your acquaintance Ms Pie.” he bowed.
Pinkie began to open her mouth, this was it, thought Blueblood, she’s going to start to sing, or talk about what words are funny or something like that and everybody will be laughing at her not with her, “Please to meet you Mr Pants,” said Pinkie, Blueblood blinked surprised.
Was this really Pinkie, thought Blueblood as she started to ask Fancy Pants about whatever charity this event was for. He concentrated and ran a magic scan over her, he could feel the general background hum of earth pony magic, maybe a bit higher than average but she did not appear to be enchanted or affected by an illusion, why was she acting so un-Pinkie like, it was unsettling.
“What do you think Blueblood?” asked Fancy Pants, shaking him out of his daze.
His years of experience of polite conversation saved him as he realised he was being talked to “Oh, I agree.” he ventured, hoping that was a reasonable answer to whatever he was being asked.
“Splendid, why don’t you ladies go and start on the drinks. Blueblood and I will be with you in a minute.”
Fleur put an arm around Pinkie and began to steer her towards the drinks table, “So you’re, from Ponyville? My husband has expressed some interest in a young musician from there, maybe you’ve heard of her?”
Once the mares had left Fancy turned to Blueblood, “A rather daring choice in companion tonight isn’t she. She’s from that town that Luna’s focusing on, some might say that you were using her to garner support, that would be in rather poor taste.“
“What! No, that didn’t even cross my mind,” stuttered the younger stallion, “I met her at the Gala, we hit it off and I invited her here.”
“So just another gorgeous bedmate, eh? You always have the best taste.” said Fancy Pants dismissively.
Surprising himself, Blueblood found the comment rather offensive “Pinkie is more than that to me, she’s a good mare.”
Somewhat taken aback by the ferocity of Blueblood’s reply Fancy stepped back and stared into the Viscounts face, “You really do feel something for her don’t you? Very well, I apologize. I’ll have to keep an eye on the both of you, maybe I should even mention your new relationship to Luna when I next see her.” The comment hovered in the air like a threat, “Now shall we join the ladies for drinks? I have a new bartender you know, do tell me what you think of some of her cocktails.”
The first half of the night went well, Pinkie continued to act uncharacteristically restrained although brief flashes of her normal personality would occasionally breakthrough in the form of jokes and expansive gestures to illustrate stories. As Fancy Pants had predicted many of the guests wanted to hear about the events that had occurred in Ponyville. Given the normal intrigues of the Night Court were currently curtailed the gossip mill had picked up on that event as a safe topic of conversation.
After being asked about the curse that had affected the town for the twentieth time Pinkie seemed to grow tired and began to tug Blueblood towards the dance floor where a small orchestra was currently playing a slow waltz.
Blueblood gave a deep bow to his partner and she moved into his grasp. For a second he was worried she didn’t know the dance but then they started to move together, she was somewhat hesitant but she certainly knew the steps. His greater experience compensated and soon the two of them were moving gracefully around the floor.
“I di-didn’t expect you to be know how to..” he stuttered.
“How to dance? How to behave at a posh party?” she grinned even wider than normal and wiggled her covered flanks at her companion. “My special talent is parties silly, all types of parties, sure I prefer parties with singing and games and cake and stuff but that’s not all I know. Besides when you invited me I talked to Rarity about how you asked me out and how to act at a formal ball, sure her eye got all twitchy and she had to go out back and shout a lot of very unladylike things for a while, she does that a lot when I visit, but after that she helped me a lot.” She looked away, “You invited me here, brought me those pretty dresses, I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
“You could never embarrass me.”
“Really. Even if I asked the band to play the Pokey Pony or got all the guests to play pin the tail on the pony?”
“Alright, you could very much embarrass me but if you didn’t you wouldn’t be you and it’s you I like. Not that I want you to do any of these things,” he backpedalled quickly.
“Alright, I won’t, tonight. Let’s just keep dancing for a while.”
He leaned in closer and put his head on her shoulder, then behind her he saw a blond maned, aquamarine coated unicorn and cursed to himself, it was Prench Hotel. She was one of the nouveau riche, her father had set up a chain of successful hotels, she herself didn’t do anything but stalk suitors who Daddy didn’t approve of. Her father was rich enough that no-pony wanted to make an enemy of but not influential enough for anyone but the lower nobility to want to marry his brat. She’d obsessed over Duke Greengrass a year or so ago but recently had moved on to Blueblood himself. Before Trixie had proposed her plan for the Gala Prench had been one of his possible escorts for the evening. She had not taken the news her services would not be needed well.
The Blond unicorn stomped across the dance floor only just avoiding the other couples. She grasped Pinkie with her aura and deftly pushed her aside positioning herself in front of Blueblood while her rival went spinning off, “Get your hooves off my stallion,” she hissed.
“Prench!” exclaimed Blueblood.
“Don’t worry darling,” she replied calmingly, “I’m here now, you can forget all about that little pink strumpet.” She tried to wrap her hooves around Blueblood but he struggled out of her grasp.
“Unhoof me, there was never anything between us Prench.”
“You were going to take me to the Gala, I was going to meet Luna. Then she stole you.” She pointed to Pinkie who was getting to her hooves.
“She didn’t steal me Prench, I met her at the Gala. I took an entirely different pony to the Gala.”
“I don’t care how many little whores you have, you’re supposed to be with me.”
“Pinkie is not a whore!” interjected Blueblood, trying to keep his temper under control, “She’s the third best baker in Ponyville, what have you ever been third best at? Spending your father’s money? Raising your tail for whoever he doesn’t like this week? You’re not even the best at that, no matter how hard you try you won’t even be the best whore, you’re pathetic.” Tears started to well up in his targets eyes and she staggered back from him.
He looked aside and saw the expression on Pinkie’s face, it was the same expression he had seen on a much much older mare only a week ago, she was ashamed of him. A cold feeling passed through him.
“Prince Blueblood,” yelled Pinkie. “Even if she was being a big stinky, meanie head, there was no need to be a meanie back, you said you wanted to stop being like that, apologize now!”
“But I was..” started her companion.
“Apologize! Now mister. Or no cowboy fun for you tonight!”
“I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to,” he took a deep breath, “I apologize for my words Ms Hotel, I did not mean what I said, but please do not insult my marefriend again.”
“Now the two of you come with me and we can sort this out.” With this Pinkie grabbed both of the unicorn’s tails in her mouth and began to drag them through one of the side doors leading into the gardens.
Once out into the chill of the summer evening Pinkie let her captives go and turned to talk to them as if they were little foals.
“Now Bluie. Did you tell Prench that you would take her to the Gala?”
“Well I might have given her that impression, yes,” said Blueblood awkwardly.
“And when you couldn’t how did you tell her?”
“I think I asked my secretary to write her a letter.”
“That hurt,” whined Prench, “I loved you and you blew me off with a letter, you didn’t even care enough to write to me yourself.”
Pinkie took a step closer to Blueblood and turned to Prench, “Why do you love Bluie?”
“What?”
“Well he’s hunky and rich and powerful and good in bed and super fun to be with and wants to be a good pony, but why do you love him?”
“I, I, I don’t know,” the aquamarine mare stuttered.
“Well what do you like about being with him? I like how he looks at me, like I’m somepony special.”
“When I’m with him I think about how people are looking us and that Daddy will be angry.”
“Why do you want your dad angry? I’ve always wanted mine to be happy,” asked Pinkie looking confused.
“I don’t want Daddy’s to be angry, I just want him to pay attention to me and not his work,” snapped Prench, a look of shock passing over her face.
“Silly, have you tried to just talk to him?”
“What?”
“Your Dad. Sometimes Daddy’s are all busy and grumpy and stuff but you're always their little filly and they forgive all sorts of stuff, like moving all the rocks from the east field to the pond because you tried to teach them how to swim, rocks don’t swim well you know. You just have to talk to them, Daddies not rocks,” she muzzled Prench, “Just talk to him.”
“You really think that will work?” she sobbed.
“I know it will, now smile,” said Pinkie demonstrating.
Prench got to her feet and dried her eyes, she half heartedly tried to copy Pinkie.
“That’s better, but keep trying. Now go talk to your father.”
“I will,” said the mare trotting away looking rather dazed.
“You’re amazing” exclaimed Blueblood as he sat slumped against one of the trees, “I’m sorry about what I said to her.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes,” he was surprised, it was true, “Yes, I am sorry, I don’t think I would have been a week ago, before I met you.”
“Then that’s a start, we all make mistakes Bluie, the trick is to try and fix them.” Pinkie laid herself out legs pointing straight up, her head on Blueblood’s lap, he rested a hoof on her stomach and began to slowly move it in circles, one of her rear legs twitched slightly.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
Blueblood spoke first, “What are we Pinkie?”
“Ponies, silly. You’d think you’d have to know that to get to help run the country.”
He laughed, “You might be surprised how little you need to know to run a country, but I mean what are we to each other?”
“What do you think we are?” she said quietly with a little hitch in her voice that felt like a punch to the gut.
“You're all wrong for me, you’re not a noble, you won’t help my house, you’re silly and strange and spontaneous and beautiful and wonderful. I’m all wrong for you, I’m a bad pony and you are so not, my rivals will always consider you a target, you deserve so much better than me.”
“You know what I think you are Bluie? I think you’re a better pony than you think you are,” she craned her head up and gently kissed him on the lips, “and I think you're my special somepony.”
“And I think you're mine,” he replied, kissing her again. It was amazing how easy it was to say, the voice in his head seemed to have packed up and left, and good riddance. “You know this won’t be easy.”
“I prefer fun too easy any day.”
As the old song went there must be at least fifty ways to leave your lover. He was sure he'd used at least that number himself, in fact there were probably over one thousand of them. 'It's not you, it's me', sleeping with her sister, not returning her letters, declaring that you’re gay, faking your own death.
"Whatcha thinking about Bluie?" asked the puffy pink pony currently reclining across his lap. "I know, let me guess. Is it about whether the clouds look down at us and talk about what we remind them of?" she put on a deep voice, "'You see that pony down there, if you squint and turn your head it looks just like a cloud and that one looks like a cupcake' or is it whether cakes want to be eaten? ‘Cause it’s probably not that fun to be eaten but if they didn't want to be eaten why would they taste so good? or is it whether the word succotash or guacamole is funnier or maybe succomole or guacatash?"
There had to be at least one thousand ways to leave her.
"Yes, Pinkie that's exactly what I'm thinking about", said Prince Blueblood smiling down at her.
So why couldn't he bring himself to use any of them?
Because she was there when he needed her the most.