Prince Blueblood vs. the World

by Exilo

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Princess Luna, Adventure, Shining Armor, Prince Blueblood, Princess Celestia
Length: 15137

With Celestia gone, and all of Equestria in disarray, it’s up to Prince Blueblood to set out and find her. In a harrowing journey, he will suffer, he will bleed, but will he find who he is looking for?

DISCLAIMER: this is not a Scott Pilgrim parody.

Please don’t look for me.

Those words are found scrawled on a stretch of royal parchment. The hoof writing and the magical seal are both Celestia’s. Luna rises to the occasion and handles all royal duties, and Princess Sparkle is there to aid her, but it’s not enough. Panic and disarray sweep through not only Canterlot, but all of Equestria.

Why should Prince Blueblood care about that, though? He doesn’t care… He doesn’t care about the fate of a bunch of peasants… They riot about anything, after all. And Luna and Sparkle can both handle the ins and outs of an empire. The fate of his Aunt Tia is what keeps him up at night. It’s a comment against her that sets him off. And it’s a desperate hope to save her that will cost him…

Rated Teen for language, some violence, and some dark themes to come.

Updates daily.

Published 2013-06-24 14:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-28 12:47:17 UTC

Chapter 1: Prince Blueblood Don't Care

Chapter One: Prince Blueblood Don’t Care

Peasants. How quickly the mask of civility falls off their dull features, and ponies wonder why I so despise dealing with them. If it were up to me, I would never leave the castle. Hell, I would never leave my personal quarters. But Princess Sparkle will not allow that. Apparently, a pair of wings and a few cute spells gives her authority over me. Every few days, she comes into my room and tells me to go out on the town, get some fresh air.

Aunt Tia would understand. She was happy to let me relax in the royal library with my maps, or reserve the spa and take a day just to be pampered. Sometimes she made me go out, such as that awful night at the Gala a few years back. She thought if I was never seen rubbing shoulders with the public, the peasants would start to think I had been banished to the moon, or some such absurdity. But Aunt Tia is not here anymore. Aunt Luna has taken the dominant position in government. I should be ruling by her side, but for some strange reason, Princess Sparkle is now the other half of the diarchy. Aunt Luna said it is better that way.

Oh yes, Aunt Tia. She is gone. One day she is speaking with the royal court about a new settlement in the borders of Everfree Forest, the next she is gone. All she left behind was a quickly scrawled letter on her pillow. Five words, written on royal parchment, in her hoof writing, with her magical imprint. I read the note only once. Not even a “sincerely yours” or her signature. The mare who had guided Equestria for over a thousand years, disappeared overnight. The letter ended with a request. Five words.

Please don’t look for me.

You cannot imagine how angry the peasants were. The accusations that they slung were vicious and disgusting. I heard it was bad from Ponyville to Saddle Arabia, but I cannot imagine anything worse than here in Canterlot. That first day Luna raised the sun, and then had to face the masses, who wanted to know where Celestia was, I would like to say things got better from there. How the peasants produced signs so quickly is beyond me, but on that very first day, they were already protesting the shift in governing power. They shouted such cruel things at Aunt Luna. One would think at such a conflicted time, ponies would come together. Instead, all they could think to do was tear one another apart. They mocked her and ridiculed her. They demanded to know what had happened to Princess Celestia, and just would not take, “We do not know,” as an answer. Princess Sparkle attempted to coax the mass. She probably figured she was still one of them, they would recognize her and feel empathy for her. Her reward was a volley of tomatoes thrown at her face. By the end of that first week, they were calling Luna the ugly duckling sister. I would rather not repeat what they said about Princess Sparkle. Perhaps I dislike Princess Sparkle, but the things they say about her… disgusting.

Aunt Luna is… well, I think if Aunt Tia could see her now, she would be proud. Aunt Luna has been taking all that hatred, all that bile, all the insults slung at her… she has taken them in stride. No matter what is shouted at her, or what is thrown, she keeps up a smile. Like a good princess; she raises both the sun and the moon, and continues to guard those who sleep, along with attending banquets and christenings that Aunt Tia was already scheduled to…

Princess Sparkle has done her part, trying to calm the masses, trying to inspire something in their shallow hearts. Her brother and his wife have even left the Crystal Empire and come to Canterlot, hoping to keep the riots under control. It is all for nothing. The peasants will tear themselves apart. That is just what they do. I have tried to explain that, but I only earn angry glares from the captain and the three alicorns.

Why should I care anyway? That is what Aunt Luna and Princess Sparkle and Cadance just cannot answer. Why should I care about these peasants when they would string me up by my entrails the first chance they got? Aunt Tia would go on some tirade about how, when you have power, it’s not a question of should you help the weak, it’s a fact that you must. That is why Aunt Tia has run away from her responsibilities and left us all alone with a mob of angry peasants.

A night on the town, that is what Princess Sparkle ordered me to have. Just, make an appearance, she said. Rub shoulders with peasants, let them know you’re alive. I think she just wants me out of the castle so her and the other alicorns can talk in peace. I do not mind. A pair of leggy pegasi sisters on my arms, fawning over me, there are worse ways to spend the night.

First up is the spa, where we get the “royal treatment.” I was not able to reserve the entire spa, but it is not that bad. Massages, hooficures, my horn sharpened and the pegasi sisters have their feathers… plucked… or preened, or whatever it is called. Then it is on to Cotton’s Candy Shop, where we got some special sweets. It is the sisters’ idea. I am not a huge fan of confections myself, even the highest class ones, but their lips drool at the thought of something sweet, and I just do not have the heart to say no. It is not a bad way to spend a night, though truthfully, I would rather be in the castle with Aunt Luna. Noam Clopski’s, a unicorn scholar in Manehattan, has released an essay regarding the fascist nature of the present government system. It would have been nice to mock and ridicule his ideas with Aunt Luna, and then listen to one of Aunt Luna’s stories about “the good old days.” It would be nice.

Instead, as I step out of the sweet shop, I notice a veritable swarm of peasants stomping along. At first I assume it is just one of the usual mobs that have been wandering the streets of Canterlot, looking for something to burn or windows to throw rocks through. But I notice the ghastly white masks they wear on their face. The masks had become a stable of Canterlot, even before Aunt Tia’s disappearance. The masks bear the twisted visage of Discord, although they are completely white, perhaps to mimic the haunting look he wore when he was cast in stone a second time. They are a cult or a gang, I am not quite sure, but they call themselves Discordians. They are responsible for the ugly posters of Aunt Tia, denouncing her as a tyrant. Now, with Aunt Tia gone, they have turned their attention to Luna and Princess Sparkle, and begun to plaster the walls of Canterlot with signs. For Luna, they make up portraits where her snout has been replaced with a duckbill. For Princess Sparkle, her portraits have the words “Tyrant Jr.” scrawled across the face. The Discordians are many things, but clever is not one of them.

I am content to let the peasants have their fun. They do not seem to be hurting anyone. They are just screeching some sort of awful chant about tyranny and royalty. It does not rhyme. With a pair of fine pegasi sisters flanking me, I trot along, until I hear my name. Well… sort of.

“Prince Blueballs,” one of the Discordians says, trotting out of his herd.

Cowards take comfort in numbers. When a pony is too weak to stand on his own, he leans against others, and others lean against him. I am almost shocked this lead pony does not shatter like glass the moment he leaves the embrace of his kin. With my magic, I slip his mask up so I can look into his eyes, though he quickly retreats and shields his face with his wings. This is the first time I notice he is a pegasus. He is about my size, maybe a little taller and a little stockier. He keeps his wings out now, as if he might appear larger. Like I said: coward.

“Blueblood, feather brain,” I say coolly. “Try to get it right. I am the guy you pay taxes to.”

“No, Blueballs sounds better. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

The two mares who had been on my arm, whose spa time I had paid for, waltz forward and settle beside the stallion. I roll my eyes, and make a note to give Princess Sparkle a piece of my mind. She is the one who set me up with these two mares. Although I try to turn and head back to the castle, the idiots do not seem content to let me leave.

“Funny how often you’re seen with a mare on your arm, and yet they all seem to agree, nothing ever happens between you. Why is that?” the leader asks. “Would you rather bang your sister? That’s what nobility does, isn’t it? Or maybe you just can’t keep your horn straight.”

The peasant thinks he hit some nerve. He thinks he got under my skin. The most obvious reason I am walking away never occurs to him: he is just not worth my time. Some little dweeb shouting insults at my rump is not exactly bothersome. The only problem is, getting an eyeful of my… magnificent backside is too good for him. Of course, there is no angle I am not magnificent, so no matter how I walk away, he is in for a treat. I do not mind his slurs. I have been called worse in my life, after all.

“But hey, what could we expect from the nephew of a tyrant whore?”

Punching is not the easiest thing for a stallion to do. All four of our legs support a lot of weight, after all, and I have always been a bit front heavy. It would be easier to rear and buck the coward standing behind me, but when he says those words, I guess something snaps inside me. I push back onto my rear legs, and spin in a tight circle. Using the momentum of my spin, as well as the momentum of falling forward, I drive my right hoof into the pegasus’ crown. I do not know what I was thinking, to be honest, but by the sun, did it feel good to break that idiot’s head under my hoof. Even the shockwave of pain that runs up my arm cannot put a dent in my bliss.

It takes a minute or two, but eventually, all the Discordians realize I just punched out their leader. Like a swarm of angry ants they are upon me.

It has been a long time since I have been in a fight. At the academy, there were sparring matches, but those always had rules, and supervisors with sticks that would pound you if you failed to return to your corner at the bell. In my younger days, the boys and I would go out to some earth pony bar and pick a fight with the stockiest draft horse we could find. Those were real fights. Those were fights where anypony could jump in and pound you. That is the kind of fight I find myself in now, although now I do not have my friends to watch my back. I do what I can. I punch and swing and kick madly. I even bite a couple, and get their blood to wet my teeth. It is thirty against one, though, and they have sticks and rocks and whatever else they can pick up. It does not last as long as I would like.

Then, all of a sudden, they stop. Or, maybe they all keep hitting me, but I am too far past pain. Somewhere, over the rush of blood that is pooling in my ears, I hear Captain Armor’s booming voice.

“Step away from the prince and disperse,” he shouts. “Return to your homes.”

One hoof beneath me, firm on the ground, and somehow I manage to push myself up. There is an awful pain in my neck, but I manage to lift my head to look over the crowd. There is Shining Armor, standing on a soap box or something. Beside him, fluttering in the air, is Princess Sparkle. She looks angry, but she always looks that way when dealing with me. A magenta bubble shield opens around me, which is good, since a moment later I collapse again. The bubble is at least soft, and I do not have to worry about the Discordians and their sticks.

“Return to your homes,” Princess Sparkle says.

Of course, one of the Discordians has to be a moron, and strolls forward. It is one of the mares who had been attached to my side for most of the night. “No,” she says, and looks to the others, hoping for signs of encouragement.

Princess Sparkle’s eyes glow. So does her horn. After a blinding flash of light, all the Discordians have disappeared. “That wasn’t a request,” Princess Sparkle mutters, and she trots forward in front of me. The bubble pops and I drop to the ground, though manage to remain firm on my hooves. At least until she swings and slaps across my jaw.

“What the buck were you thinking?!” she screams. One of my eyes is swelling shut. With the other, I can see crystals forming in the corners of her purple eyes. Why is she crying? Had that spell taxed her magic to the point of causing pain? “You could have been killed, BB. What is wrong with you?! You could have been killed!”

“Don’t call me, BB,” I snap.

“They could have killed you! If Luna hadn’t spotted you, they would still be beating you!”

I put my hooves beneath me, and with all my strength, try to stand. I want to look strong in front of the captain and the princess, but my body betrays me. I fall, but Captain Armor erects another bubble shield that keeps me safe and secure. That’s good, since in another moment, I pass out.

Chapter 2: Prince Blueblood's Ugly Little World

Chapter Two: Prince Blueblood's Ugly Little World

“Three broken ribs, a sprained rear leg, and a hairline fracture in your right foreleg. Three of your teeth are still missing, although I have some royal guards sweeping the area, and your horn was almost snapped off. On top of all that, you are covered in bruises and scrapes. You’ve suffered at least one concussion, possibly more though we cannot tell.” Shining Armor sighs, and set the list of injuries down on the table, before returning his attention to me.

“My sister asked you yesterday, but you passed out before you could answer. Would you please tell me what you were thinking?”

I shrug, though truthfully, that hurts my ribs enough I make a mental note not to try it again. I hate hospitals. From being forced to rub elbows with peasants to the ugly decor, nothing about my residence befits my stature. The spring mattress I am forced to lay on is uncomfortable, forcing me to shift this way and that, and with the state of my ribs, this sends waves of pain through my torso. The walls are an ugly dark turquoise, painful on my eyes. And what they force me to wear: a cheap paper hospital gown that would better fit a mare than a stallion of my dimensions. I would not be surprised if the nurse purposely gave me a size too small. The food they serve is peasant fare, unbecoming of my royal lips. I am in the public hospital of Canterlot, but at least I do not have a roommate. That would be intolerable. Of course, Captain Armor seems intent on stealing even that small luxury from me. He refuses to leave my room, instead going on and on, blabbing at me. What right does he have to even speak to me? A peasant in a spiffy cuirass is a peasant nonetheless.

He continues. “Prince, I understand you don’t like me. Quite frankly, I don’t like you too much either, but this is not about you. Equestria is in disarray, and we need to show a united front. Do you understand that? Are you capable of looking a foot past your own horn? We need to show the citizens we are here for them. We cannot send the message that we are going around, punching random dolts.”

“No, we need to show these peasants they can’t get away with slurs and slander against the mare who raised me from foalhood… Princess Celestia has always been there for them, for a millennium. Now, something happens to her, and all any of them can do is whine like foals. And Aunt Luna is struggling to put on a brave front, but every time she shows her face, they pelt her with tomatoes, to say nothing of what comments they make about Cadance. If I were in charge of this empire, I would-”

“You are not in charge.” Captain Armor gives me a stern stare, the kind that would get new recruits shaking in their horse shoes.

“Do not excuse my acceptance as lethargy,” Armor growls. “I read your file, prince. You got into the Point, Equestria’s premier military academy, at the recommendation of Princess Celestia. I imagine she hoped you would follow in your father’s hoofsteps. In fact, in the two years you were there, you were considered a prodigy, but then you just dropped out. You pissed away your future. You chose to live the life of a pompous, arrogant twit who leeches off his royal name, instead of gritting your teeth and doing something worthwhile. What would your father say if he was alive now?”

“Don’t you dare mention my father!” I scream.

Captain Armor does not yield. “Now you have the nerve to question my loyalty, my judgment? I have been struggling days on end to keep some semblance of order in this empire, while you’re content to gulp down cider and screw a couple of pegasi behind the curtains. I remained at the Point, graduated valedictorian, and ascended to my present standing through blood and sweat. You were handed your position in this government like foal is handed candy. If you were in charge, Prince Blueblood, if you were given any semblance of power outside of token, this empire would collapse in a day.”

I am going to punch him, or he is going to punch me. Either way, Aunt Luna decides to come in at just the right moment and saves me from another beating. She clears her throat to make her presence known, and gives that stern stare only she and Aunt Tia can give, the kind of stare that makes me feel like a colt again. Shining Armor cast a glare at me, before gently nuzzle Aunt Luna’s cheek as he passes her. I am left alone with Luna, who sits down beside my bed.

“What were you thinking, prince?” she asks.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“You lay on what I hope will not be your deathbed. I am sick with worry something will happen to you.” She paused. “May I please use a healing spell?”

“Why bother?” I mutter.

She must have taken that as a yes, because her horn glows a soft, supple blue. The touch of her magic is a cool breath running down my spine. I shiver slightly, before the coolness spreads to my aching ribs and feels pleasant. When the rush has passed, I am left with a tingling down my body that does not want to leave.

I wish Aunt Luna hadn’t done that, though. She does her best to hide her fatigue, but I can see the weary bags that hang under her cyan eyes and the somnolent way she carries herself. She works hard to keep herself well groomed, perhaps hoping to emulate the regality that Aunt Tia can effortlessly cast, so the peasants might be more willing to accept her as their new leader. She spends all night soothing the dreams of her subjects, and all of the day making appearances to the public. She wants so bad to be there for the empire, but she only succeeds in stretching her energy thinner and thinner. The peasants are undeserving of all she gives them. Now, I have robbed her of a portion of magic. I feel awful.

“You disagree with my decision not look for my sister, do you not?” she asks.

“You have threatened any who search for Aunt Tia with exile. You of all ponies should know the severity of such a punishment. What if something has happened to Aunt Tia? What if Sombra has risen again… or some creature more horrid than Discord swept into her room and stole her in the night?”

“Princess Sparkle and I have both swept the castle for a trace of alien magic, and we have found nothing.” With a spark of blue magic, she produces a parchment out of the air. It is subtle, but I notice her foreleg buckle beneath the strain of the spell. I want to reach out to hold her, but I doubt I can leave the bed. “Aside from that, I know my sister’s writing, and I recognize the feel of her magic. This letter is legitimate.”

Luna sighs and thinks a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Furthermore, you do not know my sister as I do, prince. It is I who see her deepest fears and the sorrows that weigh heavy on her heart. When we were younger, it was not uncommon for her to rush into the wilderness to collect her thoughts after a particular strenuous battle. I believe she has been carrying fear for many years now, and her fears have finally come to head. To be honest, it eases my heart that you are so passionate about something. I do often worry about you. I ask only you respect my decision, prince. Give my sister the time she needs to gather herself and regain her strength. I promise, she will return, stronger and brighter than before.”

“We should be sweeping all of the empire for her,” I mutter under my breath. “If I were in charge…”

I love Aunt Luna very dearly, but I think of her as a friend. She was not there for me growing up, like Aunt Tia, but that is not her fault. I go to Aunt Luna and share a drink, look at the moon, or talk about politics. I go to Aunt Tia when I have a nightmare and need someone to hug me. Aunt Tia has always been there for me, coaxing me to do what is right with a gentle word or easing my fury with a stern glare. When my arrogance has swelled out of control, she is there tap my rump and set me in the right direction. The look Aunt Luna gives me is just what Aunt Tia would. It’s stern, but understanding, full of love, without a hint of irritation. I have no doubt she has entertained every possibility in regards to her sister, and I suddenly feel awful for my comment. I should say something to ease her conscience. I should tell her… something. Instead, she speaks to me.

“Princess Sparkle and I have cast countless spells, hoping to learn my sister’s location, just to know she is alright. Despite the immense power between us, we cannot find even a trace of her. I know this sparks worry and suspicion in your heart. Please know the weight on my heart is crushing, but if Celestia does not wish to be found, we have no hope of finding her. She has cast spells that keep her existence secret, even from my moonlit gaze. Perhaps if I had the support of the citizens of Equestria, I would physically scour every inch of this land and hope her defenses hinder only magical detection. I would march into the Griffon Kingdom and demand they provide their aid. I would demand to know if the dragons had seen her. I know it goes against what Celestia has asked, but the worry and pain of uncertainty is a knife twisted in my chest.

“Yet I know I cannot give such an order. Not only does it go against what my sister has asked, but it is not what is right for this empire. Sending thousands out in all direction will do more harm than good. Celestia has her reasons for what she has requested and… I must have faith in her decision. I must respect it.” Luna pauses, thinking. I wish I could hug her so bad. “As horrid a thought as it is, I almost worry this is all some sort of test, orchestrated by her, to see if I am capable of properly managing this empire. I fear I am failing the test miserably.”

“Aunt Tia would never do that,” I say.

“No, she wouldn’t. But the citizens of Equestria look to me now, and no matter the cost, I must do what is right for them. I must do everything to keep this empire strong and my little ponies safe, just as my sister did a thousand years ago. With the civil unrest that runs rampant, and with these factions vying for power, sending our military into dangerous lands to search for a mare that does not want to be found is… it’s just not the right choice, but it is the best. If something is wrong, I can only pray Celestia will understand the horrid choice before my hooves.”

Luna leans forward, and plants a soft, tender kiss on my cheek. I rub the spot with my good hoof and watch as she trots out of the room, quietly closing the door with her magic. I am left alone, though I do not really mind. I like being alone, to be honest. Aunt Tia understood that, she just didn’t care.

When I was younger, after my father died, I would spend days locked in the royal library, or any library actually. When the guards removed the locks, I pushed the shelves over and blocked the door to keep them out. I liked reading maps. There was something about them, tracing my hoof over all the pathways, it always put me at ease. I could spend hours and hours memorizing landmarks and mountain ranges, the names of rivers and oceans, and I did, even as the guards pounded on the doors. I could usually get an hour or two of peace before a burst of golden light exploded in the center of the library, and Aunt Tia teleported past my defenses. Oh, when she first adopted me, I always expected something horrible. I cowered at the sight of the grand, white mare, her magenta eyes focused on me. I was sure a hoof would break across my jaw for my insolence, or make me run around the castle until my insides were tied into knots. Even when I knew I had nothing to fear of her, when I knew she was the kindest, sweetest mare in all the empire, old worries were slow to depart. Every time she caught me in the library, she sat down behind me, wrapped me in her wings, and let me tell her all about the maps I had been studying. She did scold me, eventually, of course. She told me the library did not belong to me, that it belonged to everyone. So she sent me off on a play-date with Cadance, probably as a punishment. I do not wish to imply I dislike Cadance. I love her very dearly, in fact. I was just angry, that I could not be left alone. I was angry to see Aunt Tia, because she took me away from my precious maps. Now, I could burn off my cutie mark if it meant laying eyes upon her one more time.

I try sleeping, and fail miserably. It is not the pin and needle tingles, the result of Aunt Luna’s healing spell, that keeps me up. I do not care what those peasants think, and I care even less about Captain Armor’s words. So why can I not sleep?

There is an odd smell in the air, something that makes my snout tingle. It smells like the morning, when the sun is just rising over the horizon and bathing the world in gold. It is not easy, but I manage to roll enough and get onto my rump. “Princess Sparkle?” I ask. “Screwing around with lifting the sun again?”

She is not in my room. Or at least, I can’t see her. It takes more tries than I would like to admit, but I manage to hoist myself off the bed, and onto my rear hooves. My rump still rests on the bed. If I leave the bed’s embrace fully, I fear I will fall, and somehow, someway, a picture of it will be in the papers tomorrow. Even bandaged and beaten as I am, I must maintain appearances.

Standing in the middle of the room is a little filly, white furred with a cute, cotton candy pink mane and tail. There’s an adorable horn on her head and a pair of dainty wings folded neatly at her sides. She stares at me with magenta eyes, full of love and warmth.

“What kind of joke is this?” I mutter. “Sparkle? This isn’t funny. In fact, it’s just sick.”

“I need your help,” the filly says.

“Shut up,” I snap. I do not make it a habit of yelling at fillies, but this… this is just disgusting. I know that Sparkle and Armor hate me, but this is just…

“Get out here!” I scream. Screaming is a poor idea considering the state of my ribs. I slide to the ground and catch my breath, lightning shuddering through my lungs. The filly trots to me, and rubs against my chest like an affectionate feline. She’s warm, warm enough that heat sifts through my torso and eases the endless agony I’m racked with. Her scent… all those nights when I was young, crying, and Aunt Tia came and wrapped her wings around me…

I push her aside and pound my way to the door. Bucking it open, I expect to find Sparkle or Cadance, snickering at me, having cast an illusion spell. No one is there, however. No one is anywhere, in fact. In both directions, the hallways stretches into infinity, just row upon row of doors that I already know lead nowhere.

“So this is a dream?” I ask the filly. “Aunt Luna, this isn’t funny. Aunt Luna, please stop. Please…”

“In the Everfree Forest, there is a cave that billows heat. Follow the beaten path. I need your help.”

The filly’s wings spread and flap to lift her tiny body into the air. Her lips touch my cheek in an affection gesture. I reach out to touch her, but my hooves only pass through empty air. That is when I wake up, back in bed, all alone, only the smell of a warm, sunny morning lingering on the air.

Author's Note

Special thanks to Pitch Black. He made a comment about a lack of descriptions, so I added about seven hundred words to this chapter, and I think it is much better for it. It’s still not as descriptive as some other stories I have written, but I feel that is more because Blueblood is the narrator. He fails to notice certain things, while focusing on others, such as the dreadful décor of the hospital, or Luna’s physical state. I’m leaving the first chapter intact, since hopefully the growth of the narrative will reflect Blueblood’s growth as a character.

If you like, please think about a Thumbs-Up. I was dreaming this fic would finally get me a slot on the Feature Box, or at least the sidebar. That’s not going to happen, but Thumbs-Ups are still nice to see.

Chapter 3: Prince Blueblood's Shattered Heart

Chapter Three: Prince Blueblood’s Shattered Heart

No one notices when I leave the hospital. I doubt anyone will care my bed is empty, if they even notice. Aunt Luna’s healing spell has dulled the ache in my legs and ribs, so at least I can move. When I reach the castle, I work quickly. I pack light, like they taught me back at the academy: a canteen, matches, a compass, a flask of… liquid courage, some bandages, a small knife, and a few emergency rations, all secure in the saddle bag around my middle. A cloak on my back will hide my identity from any prying eyes. I say goodbye to the guard at the gate, an earth pony stallion by the name of Sergeant Marshall Law. As I nod my head to him, I worry he might ask where I am going, but he barely spares me a glance. He is probably happy I am going, like everypony else.

I am sure I won’t find Aunt Tia. This entire thing: the suave knight setting off to save his kingdom, based on a dream he had… it is like something out of a bad piece of literature, something the peasants would fawn over, no doubt. The truth is, I’m probably going to die. I am going to walk through the Everfree Forest until I collapse, and then some predator is going to eat my corpse, and that will be the end of Prince Blueblood. Not that anypony will care.

I trot back to Marshall and stand before him.

“Prince,” he says, lifting one of his hooves over his brow and touching his helmet. I know it's Marshall, even though he wears the glamour spell that makes all the guards look alike.

I return the salute. “How is Chrystal?” I ask.

“Sir?”

“Chrystal Ball, your wife. She is a purple mare, a unicorn. She works as a fortune teller in Canterlot, and occasionally comes to the court to entertain Aunt Luna. How is she doing?”

Marshall stares at me for several uncomfortable moments. Oh, how I regret not galloping away. I actually have to suppress a laugh at the befuddled look spread across Marshall’s dull, earthy features. At last, he says, “We are expecting our first child, actually. The doctors say it will be a colt.”

“He will not have an easy life, being the half-breed of an earth walker and unicorn.”

“I suppose,” Marshall says slowly.

“I have seen how you handle the new recruits: firm, but fair. You do not inspire fear to motivate, but the desire to do great. You’re going to make a great father, and your son will be blessed to have you.”

The sergeant stares at me as if I have six heads. I salute, and he salutes me back, though I can see the utter disdain brewing behind his eyes. What is my desire? That this one interaction will somehow redeem me in his eyes? That he will remember me after I depart? I turn to leave, and this time I gallop as fast as my aching body can take me.

I have few doubts this isn’t a trick, but what if it’s not? Could Luna have taught Aunt Tia the spell to enter dreams? Could Aunt Tia have come to me? That is just silly. She would contact her sister if she could. Or she would contact Princess Sparkle. Or her favorite niece.

Still I walk. I pull the hood over my head as I walk through Canterlot, not wanting to earn the attention of gold digging whores, the Discordians, or anypony else really. I gallop when I can, and when I grow too fatigued or the ache in my chest becomes too insistent, I slow to a trot. After I catch my breath, I gallop once more. Despite a relatively sedentary life, I have stayed in good shape. The strict exercise regime of my youth is habit I could never quite break, and the rhyme of gallop returns to me like an old friend. Before the day has ended, I am in Ponyville, a quaint little earth pony settlement. I would like to rent a room at an inn and gather my strength, but I fear Aunt Luna’s attentive gaze. I do not wish for her to know what I am doing, so I merely eat a quick dinner at a local diner, and drink several cups of coffee before heading out.

My mouth goes dry as I take those first steps into the Everfree Forest. I’ve barely ever left Canterlot in my long life. When I was younger, sometimes I went with the boys to Las Pegasus, especially if it was somepony’s birthday and we were out to party. But I’ve never, ever even entertained the thought of going into the Everfree Forest. It is like something out of the horror books of my youth, the picture books Cadance insisted on reading even as I begged her to stop. Although it is dusk, I am almost surprised by the forest’s creeping dark. Shadows stretch forward, intending to snatch me up and pull me into the black abyss of the woods. Housed inside the forest are number of monsters and beasts, all thinking I look absolutely tasty, I am sure.

My reservations are eased with a gulp from my flask. The logical thing to do would be walk slowly, carefully, methodically. Instead, I gallop full speed ahead, afraid any hint of fear on my behalf will snowball into full blown cowardice. Of course, once I am firmly within the limits of the forest, I grit my teeth and continue galloping. I can see any number of horrid shadows dancing just out of reach. Timberwolves, salamanders, dragons. I don’t stop, but I can imagine their claws are just at my heels. If I stop for even a breath, I am sure they will be upon me.

A cave in the forest? There is no shortage of those, and I wonder how Dream Aunt Tia thinks I will find the right one. Eventually, I calm down. I leap into the air and spin, horn extended and magic sparking. I am sure an entire army of timberwolves will be upon me, but there are none. I look left, and right, but I am alone on this beaten path.

Every few steps I look over my shoulder, expecting to see Princess Sparkle or Cadance sitting on a cloud, watching me. It would be Cadance. When we were younger, she would constantly play tricks on me. A thorn on my seat in school, a dribble cup filled with ruby juice, oil right outside my door so the very moment I stepped out, I would go sliding through the hallways. And Aunt Tia always wondered why I hated leaving my room.

Finding the cave isn’t actually of a problem. As I pass one cave in particular, a breath as hot as a solar flare billows out of the yawning mouth. My throat goes dry, and only by gulping half my canteen can I bare to even stand there. After a drink of liquid courage, I’m on my way.

I may not be a labor pony, but I know when something is amiss in the natural world. The heat radiating out of the shadowed abyss before me is absolutely stifling. Not the kind of heat you might get from an underwater hot spring or even a hidden lava flow. The weight of the saddle bag has suddenly tripled, but I do not want to lose it. Not quite yet. It is not easy to focus on illuminating my horn and shining a few feet in front of me. The heat is suffocating, the deeper I go. My magic, the only source of light in the endless darkness, flickers and faints with each pant that escapes my cracked lips.

“What am I doing?” I ask aloud. “Cadance? Cadance, come out. I know this is all just a prank. You and Sparkle stole my memories and put on a show in my dream. Just come out. Or is this an elaborate ploy to force my exile? Princess Luna must remain resolute in her decision, to exile any who search for Aunt Tia, or she will lose whatever authority she possesses. Do you, goddesses, really fear a mere unicorn?”

I hear something behind me, deeper in the cave. I turn, and release a blast of light blue magic at the source. “Show yourself, witch!” I scream.

Despite my upbringing and magnificent command of language, I cannot put into words the raw fear I feel when I hear a low growl before me. Something feral, something deep that echoes off each wall of the narrow tunnel.

It takes a lot of focus, but I stretch the glow of my magic, gradually exposing a long snout and a pair of glowing golden eyes peeking through the darkness of the cave. A wolf? A bear? Some sort of monster crafted by Aunt Tia’s captors to keep her liberators at bay?

All I know for sure is this monster tackles me with the strength of an angry draft horse. After the Gala, a few years back, a crimson stallion slugged me for “insulting his sister” or some such absurdity. I thought that was the worst pain I could feel, but this is double that strength. Whatever light I have at the tip of my horn flickers into oblivion. The weight and force of the monster… Aunt Luna’s spell had set my body on the path to healing, but it is far from enough. I slam against the ground, and feel my ribs shatter. Jagged bones press against my flesh as I instinctively fill my lungs. The exhale is like a belly full of broken glass. All that pain those peasants inflicted on me is suddenly back, and multiplied by ten. The contents of my saddle bag spill across the ground. The noise distracts me.

A lot of the peasants probably think I’ve never been hurt before, or have been in a fight. They see me one day at a party or during a night on the town, and they think they know me. They think they know everything about me based on one night of drunken debauchery or an article they skim in the local paper. They’re wrong. They don’t know about my time at the Point. And they sure as hell don’t know what my life was like before Aunt Tia. How could they? I don’t spend all my time bitching about what’s in the past.

I cannot see the monster, and the sounds it makes bounce around the cave, preventing me from discerning its location. My only choice is to wait, and the very second I feel one of its hot, heavy claw slam against my chest, I swing. My hoof collides with something, maybe a jaw, maybe the orbital bone of its face. A painful crack rushes up my arm, but the important thing is the whimpers and snaps from the monster before me. Blindly, I grasp with my magic, and close around something soft and warm. With both hooves over my head, I swing them down, and smash into the monster’s crown. Growls and snarls. Something clamps down on my rear leg. Lightning rushes through me, but now I know where to kick. I beat against whatever is in reach with the three hooves that remain, until the jaws unlock. Crawling backwards, I focus on an illumination spell, and a glow explodes through the cave.

It’s a salamander, and a big one at that. Relatives of dragons, though far more feral and perhaps even more dangerous, salamanders are simple creatures. Akin to large lizards, they desire a constant source of heat above all else. The black of this one’s scales makes it next to impossible to see, even with the light my horn can produce. My leg is bleeding. The salamander’s fangs remain embedded in the flesh, twisting and cutting deeper each time I try to move. No time to worry about how much I am bleeding. The salamander is already stomping and snarling its way back to me, its hot breath steaming over my body.

A reflective flicker catches my eye. The knife I had brought has spilled from my saddle bag, and now lies on the ground just out of reach. I don’t have the magic to both illuminate the cave and grasp the knife with telekinesis, and I’m not sure which is more crucial at this moment. My dilemma is solved when the salamander clamps its jaws upon my legs. Barbed teeth slice through my flesh and pain sprawls through me. With a spark of magic, I just grab the knife and swing it overhead. In the dark of the cave, I can’t see where I stab, but I aim just above the source pain, hoping maybe I can get lucky and knick the salamander’s crown. I’m shocked when the jaws unlock and a low, gurgling growl sounds before me. With both hooves, I find the handle of the knife, and push it forward, deeper into the squishy flesh I had stabbed.

It takes a gulp of liquid courage, but eventually I can focus my magic and create enough light to see. By blind luck, or perhaps divine intervention, I jabbed my knife through the salamander’s eye socket. I’m… utterly terrified it is still alive, but I feel better after carving out its other eye and slitting its throat, and jamming my knife through its nape.

Yet as the adrenaline dies down, an odd sense of remorse settles over my heart. It has been ages since I have killed something, anything, even the bugs that occasionally pass me in the garden. Some nobles find great sport in hunting wild game, but I never found such pleasure. I doubt whoever kidnapped Aunt Tia hired this creature. It is… was, just a poor brute attracted by the warmth. I invaded its home, and it attacked me out of fear, not malice.

It does not matter. Slowly working each of the barbed teeth out of the meat of my leg, I use magic to pinch the open veins and arteries. The bandages, wrapped tight around my thigh, take an ugly crimson stain in mere moments, but it will hold for the time being. After two gulps of liquid courage, I am back on my hooves, and so I head off, deeper into the cave.

As the adrenaline and rush of battle fades, so does my anger, though that’s alright. Hatred isn’t the strongest motivator in all the world. When I think about all the haughty peasants, the gold diggers, the whores throwing themselves at my hooves, my horn glows just a bit. But when I think about Aunt Tia, my horn is a beacon.

I must have missed a few of the salamander’s teeth in my thigh. I can feel them shifting and grinding jagged against flesh. I cannot describe the pain in my ribs. As long as I feel pain, though, I’m alive, and I’m still moving towards Aunt Tia, closer to the source of the stifling heat. The warmth the liquid courage puts through my system isn’t helping my perspiration, but if I wasn’t slightly drunk, I doubt I would be able to continue on, deeper and deeper into the shadowed tunnel. I no longer bother looking behind me. This is not one of Cadance’s pranks, or some sort of test orchestrated by Princess Sparkle. Nothing of concern is behind me. All that matters is forward, through the heat, and close to my aunt.

My path opens up to a large gallery.

Illumination is provided from means I do not understand, but I am happy to give my horn a rest. Truthfully, in Equestria, a cave with walls that magically glow isn’t actually all that strange, nor is it strange that a large pool of crystal clear water has somehow survived the boiling temperatures inside the cave. If I had all my senses, perhaps I would marvel at the sheer beauty of this gallery. The walls glow with a subtle blue, somehow soothing my pains and making the delicious water in my path all the more inviting. The gallery is absolutely massive, as large as the throne room back at the castle, and just as regal. If I look closely, the walls are not only blue. They shift over an entire spectrum of colors, like the aurora borealis that Aunt Luna is so found of. And the water: crystal clear and glowing a cyan that is so enticing to my tired eyes. It’s rather undignified, but I plunge my head into the pool and take a deep gulp. The water is cool against my face and washes down my throat, easing the stifling ache. I pull my head out to catch my breath, only to throw myself into the water and let it wash over my pains.

That is better. At least now I can think about things other than my parched throat. And my leg doesn’t hurt as much as it did before, though the bandages still have an ugly, crimson hue. Perhaps the water is blessed with magic and will ease my wounds. Or perhaps I am so stretched beyond exhaustion, the cool water is enough. I climb out and sit with my legs and lower body still in the cold embrace. I just need a minute to catch my breath, then it is back to searching for Aunt Tia.

There are hoofsteps behind me. I don’t want to put weight on my leg, so I just scoot on my rump until I’m facing the other way. Some tiny part of me actually hopes to find Aunt Tia standing there, but I expect to find Princess Cadance, laughing at me. Instead I see a stallion… a familiar stallion. A stallion I haven’t seen since I was a colt…

“Dad?” I ask.

It has been at least two decades since I last laid eyes on my father, but I recognize him, and a frightened shiver runs down my spine. Dad was a grand stallion, twice as large as the largest workhorse in all of Canterlot. He was the veteran of a dozen wars, a dozen more conquests, and it showed in every aspect of his being; from the way he carried himself to that stern glare that could get even a princess to shudder in her golden slippers. I always thought he was a giant, for he had a giant’s strength and a giant’s presence. His fur was white, like mine, and his mane was blonde, like mine, though worn so much more handsome than I could ever hope for. My blue eyes are from mom, though. His were green. The eyes that stare at me have that stern cruelty I have so longed to forget.

I stare at my father as he trots towards me. But it cannot be my father. My father is dead. The stallion never looks at me, though. He looks through me, as if I am not even there. In fact, as he draws closer, I am afraid he’ll crush me beneath one of his great hooves. I scamper out of the way like a frightened mouse. “Dad?” I manage to ask. What a stupid thing to say, but what else is there? He trots past me and dips his head, so he can drink from the pool of water. Like a bug I cower behind him, head hung low, tail tucked.

When I am sure his drink is finished, only then do I dare to open my mouth. “Aunt Tia said you were dead,” I say. “She said you died stopping the dragon encroachment.”

“Is that the story she came up with?” my father asks. “I can’t say I blame her. There is no way you could handle the truth. You always were such a weak little thing, something you inherited from your mother, no doubt. It did not come from me.”

I take a step forward. My hoof, shaking, reaches out to touch my father, but he makes contact with me first. One of his hooves swings and smashes across my jaw, sending me tumbling over the ground like a foal struck by a giant. It has been years since I felt that shudder of pain, but it still brings tears to my eyes as the tingle settles over my jaw. I spit blood and lift my head, which is a mistake. I should know better, even after all these years, for such an act of defiance earns another stomp. My father does not move his hoof quickly. He keeps it pinned on my cheek, crushing my head against the ground.

“You weak, pathetic foal,” he says. “Thirty years to mature and you’re still the same pathetic little creature as when I left you. To think, when you were born, I had such high hopes. I held you in my arms and said, ‘This little stallion shall carry my name and do me proud.’ What a fool I was. When you were young, I thought you were just… lacking definition. In the fire of the forge, metal finds its shape, and I hoped I could forge you into a respectable unicorn, deserving of your name. I thought I could sharpen you into a saber that could cut the unicorns their place of reverence among the lesser species, and even the princess whore would bow before your hooves. Oh how wrong I was. No matter how hard I worked to shape you into something I could be proud of, you always remained the little foal, as weak as when I held you in my arms that first day.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“Sorry?” He lifts his hoof, only to slam it down again. “You are sorry? How tired I am of that word. You are always sorry, after all. Sorry for your weakness. Sorry for your stupidity. Sorry for all your failures, as if that might remedy the problems that you have caused. Sorry for making a fool of me in front of my peers. Sorry you can’t finish the twenty mile jog. Or are you sorry for what you did to your mother? She gave her life for you, and this is how you honor her memory?”

The weight of his hoof leaves my cheek. I don’t dare lift my head, and soon enough he grips my horn and drags me to the pool. When I try to look away, he bends my horn in a horrid way, threatening to snap it off my crown unless I stare, eyes open, at my reflection. “Look at you,” he snarls. Now he screams, and what a terrifying noise it is to hear him make. “Look at what you are. When I was your age, I had conquered lands. I had slain dragons. Mares were throwing themselves at me, hoping to give me an heir. You don’t even have the balls to be alone with a whore unless it’s your aunt. You’re not a unicorn; you’re not even an earth pony like your mother. You’re just a waste, a piece of mud that fell out from between her legs.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” he screams. I can no longer hear him. I try to take a sharp breath, only for icy water to flood my nostrils and throat. Crazed, I struggle and fight, trying to find a firm stance to push against, but the ground beneath me is slippery against my hooves. Oxygen slips away from me as bubbles float past my vision. The tears that stream down my face only add to the pool that will drown me.

My father yanks my head up sharply. I gasp for air, but quickly I am thrust forward, my entire head plunged beneath the surface. I scream and beg, hoping somehow the bubbles may carry my apologies to the surface, and I will not enrage my father further. I can hear his shouts and screams through the layer of water. He tells me stories only he and I would know. He lists every failure in my low, pathetic life, and I feel myself drift away.

He yanks me out of the water and throws me to the ground.

“You’re not my son,” he says. “You’re not Celestia’s nephew. You’re not a unicorn. You’re just mud, not even worth the effort it takes to hold you under. Make this cave your tomb. It will be the only good thing you ever do in your entire life.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. I curl up tight, shaking, waiting for the next kick that is sure to come. There’s always just one more blow. Just when I think it’s over, he’ll hit me again. He’ll see my tears and he’ll hit me, because stallions don’t cry. He’ll hit me because I don’t lift my head, or he’ll hit me when I do, because no matter what, I’m being insolent. He’ll hit me if I say it, but I can’t think of what else say, and I’m terrified of the suffocating quiet.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Author's Note

Thank the Sun I wrote this fic out fully. I doubt I would have the will to press on otherwise.

Please do tell me what you think, and please remember to Thumb Up if you like.

Chapter 4: Prince Blueblood's Finest Hour

Chapter Four: Prince Blueblood’s Finest Hour

There’s a scent in the air, like the baking sun on a summer afternoon. Something touches my cheek, something warm and slightly wet, perhaps a pair of dainty lips. I lift my head, and through blurry tears, can just make out a white and pink shape. The little filly before me leans forward and wipes my tears away with one of her delicate, slipper covered hoof, before kissing my snout. She takes another step and wraps her arms around my neck. You’re not real, little Dream Aunt Tia. You have never been real. You’re just a figment of a stressed mind, and I don’t care in the slightest. I need to feel the warmth of your hug against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper.

Sorry?

I’m sorry?

Yeah, as a matter a fact, I am. I’m sorry for being a royal screw-up all of my life. I’m sorry for being a grade-A cluster fuck. I’m sorry I was ever born. I’m sorry Aunt Tia and Canterlot and all of Equestria has ever had to deal with me. If I ever find a spell that lets me go back in time, I’ll punch my mom in the stomach and spare the world me ever being born.

You’re right, dad. You’re always right, after all. I’m always sorry, but this isn’t the time for that. Face it, BB; you’ve spent so long being a caricature of the snobby prince of mud, that’s become your default setting. I’m mud, so why should I ever bother trying to be anything more? I’m just a cute little half-breed playing prince with a bunch of goddesses. I’m never going to be the commander my father was, I’m never going to save the world from Discord or rule the Crystal Empire. I’m never going to settle down with a mare who actually cares about me. I’m never going to be anything but mud.

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Aunt Tia. If there is one thing I do right in my entire life, just let it be this. Let me just not fail this one time. Whatever god or devil or Discord is listening, just let me do this one thing right.

I look down at the filly, and wrap my arms around her. I squeeze her tight, and she lets out the most adorable giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “I know. You need me, right?”

By the time I manage to get to my hooves, my dad is gone. So is the little filly. My throat is aching, but I don’t dare take another drink from the pool of cyan. I’m out of liquid courage, too, which means the ache in my leg is coming back with a vengeance. If I put any weight on it, it’ll buckle, so I start the long, painful, three step trot deeper into the cave.

The deeper I go, the hotter and thicker the air becomes. Scalding waves scream down the narrow tunnel, hitting me like a flaming train. Each blast of hot air rips the breath from my lungs and brings me to my knees. Only with a lot of focus can I even bear to stand back up. Sometimes I look forward and catch sight of the little white filly, just out of reach, and I remember why I’m here. The ground beneath my hooves is melting. My fur starts to singe. I’m actually happy when a faint glow off in the distance washes into the tunnel, because I no longer have to illuminate my way with my horn. My only focus is on the steps; the slow, methodical trot as I continue on.

As the tunnel opens into another gallery, a blinding flash washes over me. I barely have time to lift my arm in front of my face and shield my eyes. A scalding burn opens on my arm and hoof: the fur burns off and the flesh starts to melt like the wax on a candle. Like a beacon, there is something burning as bright as the sun, but as I stare, it starts to take shape. A slender, center body is carried on a pair of long, graceful legs. Grand wings, as beautiful as those of a swan or a fairy, stretch out from the mare’s body. A tail and mane, both glowing and burning with fire like the sun, stretch into the air, radiating heat and light.

“Aunt Tia?” I call out. Another rippling wave of fire burst from the mare standing in the center of the cave. I bow my head and try to erect a spell that might protect me, but the force is far too great. The best I can do is hold the precious oxygen in my lungs. I doubt there will be any left in the cave much longer.

“Aunt Tia,” I shout again, and take those precious steps towards her. The ground is melting and yielding like tar when I put my weight down. I sink in to my fetlock, leaving burning asphalt on my skin even as I pull my hoof out.

I don’t know what is wrong with Aunt Tia, I don’t care. She looks different, but it’s her. I know it. And if I can just reach her, if I can just touch her, I can… I can what? What can a piece of mud do against a goddess?

“Why have you come here?” the flaming mare asks. “Did you fail to comprehend the message in the note? You stupid little foal.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I call out, despite the ache in my throat. “Aunt Tia, who did this to you?”

“Nothing has been done to me, child. You are perceiving my true form, that of the solar goddess. Leave me, before I grow weary of your constant whining.”

“Aunt Tia, we need you in Canterlot. You don’t understand.”

“No, child, you do not understand.” The twin suns of her eyes focus on me, sending a wave of heat that boils my stomach. Her wings stretch out, only increasing her majesty as she trots towards me and looks down. She has always been taller than me, but now she towers over me, as if I am but an ant before her. Her voice has the strength of thunder. “You do not understand the power housed inside this corporeal form, how can you? Maps and atlases and compasses, that is all you know. The day your mark spawned on your flank, you came galloping into my quarters and leapt on my back until I woke, just so you could show me your pathetic excuse for a talent.”

There is pain on my flanks, and the smell of burning flesh fills my nostrils. I know I’ll regret looking behind me, but I cast a glance and see small fires searing the skin, burning an ugly blob into my hind quarters.

“And your mane,” the mare before me says. One of her hooves reaches forward, and with ironic care, brushes down the side of my cheek. “Oh, your precious mane. You spent more time in front of the mirror grooming yourself than Cadance. All that care, all that love you showed it, and it burns just the same as tissue scraps.”

Searing pain runs up my back. I don’t bother to look. I know what she’s done. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is walking forward, step by step. My rear left leg is jerky, and my foreleg has been seared to the bone. I press on. I’m probably crying, but whatever tears escape my eyes instantly turn to steam.

The scalding suns that glare at me soften. The magenta returns to Aunt Tia’s eyes, though her body continues to burn with heat like the sun. “Leave!” she shouts. “Leave, or I shall turn your bones to goo inside your flesh and melt you from within.”

“Why are you doing this?” I scream. “You never even spanked me when I was bad and now you want to kill me? Tell me Chrysalis has taken hold of your soul. Tell me Discord has tainted your thoughts. I can help you. I just don’t know how!”

“You don’t understand, BB,” she says. “You don’t understand the power inside me. You don’t understand the damage I could do with a single stray thought, or a moment of unbridled rage. I could burn this empire to ash if I chose, and no one, not you, not Luna, not Twilight, could hope to stop me. Do you understand that? I can’t control the power inside me. It has been a struggle for years, and I have grown too weak with age to carry the burden myself. I want you to leave and never come back. It is for your own good.”

Three more steps. Three more steps and… and I’ll be close enough… Close enough to do what? Punch her? Stab her with my horn? Call her a raging bitch for putting me through all this? I’ll figure it out when I get there…

“I have seen what will happen if I remain in my position,” she continues. “The power inside me shall swell like a rampant sun. All shall burn beneath my tearful gaze, unless I never allow that future to pass. Twilight has ascended. She shall join Cadance and Luna in guiding this empire towards a prosperous age, and this cave shall be my tomb, where none of my little ponies can fall to harm. Just as I exiled my sister, all those years ago, now I must remove myself for the greater good.”

The fire returns to her eyes. Her voice is loud enough to make my ears bleed. “Now you will leave, and never return. You will tell none that you have found me, or I boil every drop of water in your heart and burn it out of your chest.”

The skin sears off my torso as I rear onto my one good rear leg. It’s a precarious balance, but I don’t need to do a dance. I allow gravity to pull me forward, and with my arms over my head, I just manage to wrap them around Aunt Tia’s neck. Hugging her is like hugging an open flame. Whatever moisture is left in my body turns to steam and burns out of my pores. I lock my wrists behind her back, and despite the tears rolling down my face I only hold tight to her.

The heat on my chest cools, and the temperature in the cave lowers. No longer in the cauterizing embrace, I’m vaguely aware my chest is bleeding and marking Celestia’s beautiful white fur with crimson. If I had the breath, I would apologize, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’m too weak, BB. You don’t understand. I can’t do it anymore. When I first laid eyes upon Twilight Sparkle, I knew she would be the mare to finally replace me. I knew it was under her guidance that Equestria would thrive, instead of the stagnant wasteland it had become under my rule. Even as I groomed her, I struggled to keep the inferno of my heart at bay. Every night I go to sleep, I fear what will wake in my bed. If I must give my life for the good of my ponies, I will happily bury myself in this tomb.”

Speaking is the most difficult thing in the world. The air I try to draw into my lungs is boiling. I do it anyway. “What happened when Princess Sparkle lost control of her spell and turned Ponyville into something Discord would be proud of? You helped her. What happened when Luna returned, and she was too afraid to leave her room? You flew through her window and snuggled up with her all day. Or when Cadance was terrified of the horn that had spawned on her head? What happened when my… you were there for me. You’re always there for everypony, and we will always be there for you. We will protect you, will fight for you, but you must let us. You have carried an empire on your back all these years. If you are too weak now, please, let us carry you.”

I feel hot tears on my face, though I don’t know if they are hers, or mine. Probably hers. I doubt I have anything left inside me.

“I remember when I was a filly,” she says, “how infuriated I was that the simplest of spells were beyond my grasp. I would sell my soul to return to those days of weakness. What if I lose control? What if my power swells and consumes this entire world?”

“That will never happen. I know you, Aunt Tia, you won’t allow it.”

I hear her laugh. It’s a nervous chuckle, but it’s something sweet in my ears. “Just as matter-a-fact as that?”

“Yes,” I say. “There is a reason we all look to you, and we have for a thousand years. There is a reason your abrupt disappearance shakes us to our core. It is not because you are Equestria’s warhorse, or because you can lift the sun, but because we love you, and you love us. Whether you’re a little filly or a solar goddess, we know it is in you we can put our faith in. I hope you know you can put your faith in us. To lose you is to lose a source of warmth and love in this empire, and though that day may someday come… maybe just put it off another week?”

Another laugh. When I try to breathe, the air cuts through my chest like a knife. I feel myself fading away. That’s alright.

“Now,” I say, “do you think you can get home on your own, Aunt Tia? The peasants really miss you. So does Luna. You’ll be really proud of Aunt Luna. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell Sparkle I’m sorry, and Armor. I’m sorry to dad. I’m sorry to you… and Cadance… and everypony else.”

I laugh, much to Aunt Tia’s confusion. Reluctant to break the embrace, she puts her hooves under my arms and pushes me back, holding me like I’m a foal. There’s no more fire in her eyes. In fact, there is a look of fear, though I don’t know why. She smells like a sunny morning, and is as warm as comforter on a cold winter night. The flame has left her hair, replaced by the aurora borealis wave.

I’m that little colt locked in the library, telling my auntie all about the maps I’ve just found. I’m not worried about my dad coming home or the other colts being mean. I’m with my auntie, and I’m safe. “I’m sorry,” I manage to say, before my head tilts lazily back. Someone turns off the lights and the noise. I can no longer see Aunt Tia, nor can I feel her warmth against my fur, but I know she’s still holding me. She has to put me down though, cause she needs to return to Canterlot, because Canterlot needs her.

I just hope I did this one thing right…

Author's Note

Well, that’s it. Prince Blueblood is dead. Maybe if I had gotten into the Feature Box I would have written something happier.

Just kidding. Epilogue will be up tomorrow.

Epilogue: Prince Blueblood’s Happy Little Life

Epilogue: Prince Blueblood’s Happy Little Life

I wake with the slow agony that tells me I’m not dead, though how I wish I were. There is not one part of me that isn’t in pain. Not just the physical. There is the overwhelming weight on my heart, as I wonder what has happened. What did I do? Where is Aunt Tia?

I’m in a hospital, I can tell that much after a quick glance at the dreadful décor and the uncomfortable mattress under my rump. Aunt Luna’s upper half is stretched on the lower part of my bed, snoring loudly. I don’t want to wake her, but I shift as I regain consciousness, and I accidentally kick her in the horn.

“Aunt Tia?” I ask, despite the agony that surges through my throat.

“She’s alright, prince,” Luna says in her soft, sweet voice. That doesn’t last. “BUT WHAT THE BUCK WHERE YOU THINKING?!”

For the next three hours, I get to listen to the Princess of the Night screaming and snarling at me. She makes liberal use of the Royal Canterlot Voice no less! After three straight hours of hearing how stupid I am, how I could have gotten killed, how sick with worry I made her, she finally trots off to set the moon, though assures me she will be back. My ribs and chest are in excruciating pain, and now my ears are bleeding, but I settle down and hope I might be able to sleep.

Captain Armor must have sensed I was starting to relax, because he comes trotting in.

“Prince,” he says, nodding his head.

“Captain,” I say. I hope tilting my head down is a sufficient form of respect. Something occurs to me. “You are a prince as well, are you not? Due to your union with Cadance.”

He shifts from hoof to hoof. Clearly he does not want to be in the room, and I do not want him, so why won’t he leave? “I prefer my ranking of captain. It is a title that I earned, instead of marrying in to.” He pauses, to gather his thought. “For many years, I viewed the rank of prince as something hollow, but I feel now, my judgment may have been tainted.”

“No, you were correct the first time,” I mutter. “It’s a hollow rank given to worthless children to keep them appeased. That reminds me, would you please tell your sister I would like to speak to her about time travel spells? There is a flaw in my past I would like to remedy.”

Captain Armor sighs again. It’s an annoying sound that I dislike. I wish he would leave. It seems, before he will give me peace, he lifts his hoof over his eye in a salute that… that must be meant to mock me. Finally he leaves, and I set my head back, hoping to sleep. Worried about the door, I manage to summon just enough magic to close it, and lock it. That should keep the peasants out.

Unfortunately, I fail to consider the determination of a certain purple mare.

The door explodes with a rain of splinters and wood. With tears in her eyes, Princess Sparkle leaps into the room. Vision blurry, she somehow devises where I am, and abruptly speeds towards me as fast as her wings will take her. She crashes into me, hard, wrapping her arms around my chest and squeezing tight, despite the obvious bandages that cover my ribs. The pain is so extreme, I cannot vocalize it, and all that emerges is a choked gasp. She buries her face into my chest and sobs, babbling something incoherent.

Never in my life have I been so happy to see Cadance, who comes in behind Princess Sparkle. She embraces the purple mare with her magic and carefully lifts her off me. Princess Sparkle is placed on the bed, at my hooves, and seems to regain enough composure to speak. Yet she only utters two words, choked on tears: “Thank you.”

It’s been years since Cadance smiled at me. Cadance smiles so often, but rarely at me. Now she smiles in the sweet, loving way only she can. The sun shines through my open window and touches my fur, and somehow the excruciating pain in my chest is eased.

My last visitor of the day is Aunt Tia herself. I am angry that when she finally arrives, fatigue has taken firm hold of my consciousness. On the other hand, it is with Aunt Tia that I feel the safest. She who will protect me, she who will keep me warm. I smile at her, and she dips her head and softly kisses my cheek, like she did when I was still just a colt. With her warm saliva drying on my fur, I drift into a pleasant, deep sleep, where the pain cannot affect me.

Since none of the royal nurses have ever had to deal with somepony injured to the extent I am, they call a specialist from Ponyville, an elderly white mare with a red cross of sorts on her flank. She rattles off a long list of injuries. It seems I am covered in three different degrees of burns. I also suffer from severe dehydration. Muscles have ripped off bones, and bones have snapped in two. More blood has escaped me than I have kept inside.

It’s decided a cover story is needed. Apparently, the peasants cannot handle the truth. The official story for Aunt Tia will be that she was out scouting areas of the Everfree Forest that would be suitable for a new earth pony settlement. It’s not actually that far from the truth, not that any of the peasants actually care. Their fickle hearts melt the moment Aunt Tia appears on the royal balcony, the sun at her back. She proceeds to scold the collective masses for how they treated Aunt Luna and Princess Sparkle. I manage to get out of bed and sit before the window, and watch as Aunt Tia reprimands a thousand ponies all at once… seeing that is worth the scolding I receive from my personal nurse.

The cover story for me? To explain my injuries? After a night of drunken debauchery, I was found in a gutter, wounded as I am.

It is three weeks before I have even rudimentary mobility back. Magic and alchemy can only do so much. Sometimes, it is a matter of time. My days are far from unpleasant, however. Luna visits me every morning and every evening. The first few days are spent scolding me for my stupidity, or sobbing because she thought she had lost me. Odd that I’m the one half dead, yet I have to comfort her, but truthfully, I don’t mind. When those emotional days pass, she just spends time with me, talking to me, telling me about her adventures of old, talking about politics and the present state of the peasants. She reads the paper to me, and the newest essay from Clopski, and we have great fun mocking him. Princess Sparkle comes by every few days and we read maps and atlases and how the maps have changed over the years.

After close to six weeks spent in bed, I’d rather risk permanent damage to my legs than spend another day on my back in bed. I have no delusions about my well being. Even Aunt Tia is not sure of the magic she used on me. I imagine at any moment, I could suddenly burst into flames, and no water or magic could save me. I want to feel the cool air and warm sun on my skin one more time before that. Princess Celestia insists I travel with two mares as company, which I can’t say is that bad, all things considered. I assume she will send me out with a few mare royal guards or a pair of Wonderbolts. Instead, it is Cadance and Princess Sparkle. Despite Aunt Tia’s return, the Discordians rioters remain an infestation. Aunt Tia is worried about me, and requests that I take my vacation in Ponyville instead. Princess Sparkle casts a spell, and after the purple magic fades, we are suddenly in that quaint village.

Princess Sparkle takes the lead. There are still a dozen parts of me that hurt, but I manage to keep my head up as I trot along, and eventually I am inside the warm spa.

A rather attractive earth mare says she will tend to me personally. She is smaller than me, but well built, as earth mares tend to be. Her fur is the cyan of my eyes, or at least close to it, while pretty pink hair that reminds me of Dream Aunt Tia stretches down her back. She turns around, batting my face gently with her tail (which smells faintly of flowers), and tells me to come with her into the back room.

She rubs salves into my burns and scars, things she promises will get my fur growing. I try not to whimper when her hooves touch against the raw flesh of my chest and arms and flanks. The salve is both cool and tingling, making me shiver and groan.

“By the sun, I look awful,” I mutter, without really thinking. Scars and burns, sickly skin is more common than my beautiful white fur. My mane and tail are barely stubble and… there are the scars on my flanks. I may not have a special talent, but to lose my cutie mark… The magic flame my aunt used to burn me, none of the princesses are sure what will happen to these wounds. I am not pleased that I am so badly scared, but I could deal with all that with time. But to lose my cutie mark, to lose perhaps the only constant in my life…

“Yes, you do,” the spa pony says, and snaps me from my dream. “I would expect better of the great Prince Blueballs.”

I sigh. “Have the Discordians come all the way down here? I was hoping your quaint, rural settlement might be beneath their gaze.”

The spa pony giggles. “Actually, details about you have been shared by Miss Rarity. She is our best customer, and frequently tells of her adventures in Canterlot. After the Gala a few years back, she had oodles to say about you.”

“Yes, I remember the gold digging marshmallow. Some time after the Gala, she returned to Canterlot as a guest of Fancy Pants. I was under the impression that we had settled our differences. How strange that ponies are so eager to discuss one’s faults and follies, but remain silent about one’s triumphs and good deeds.”

My back arches as the spa pony applies something to my skin. The subtle, constant heat of my burns suddenly turns to ice. I am not sure which is worse.

“A year or two ago, Miss Applejack came in with burns similar to these. It seemed Miss Sparkle had botched a spell, and accidentally burned her friend. These salves were used on that day. They should work well to heal your wounds. I wonder how you could have gotten burns of a magical nature, though. Certainly not the common result of a ‘night of drunken debauchery.’ ”

“Have you any clue about my cutie mark?” I ask.

“I am afraid not, though Miss Applejack suffered a ghastly wound across her chest, and now I would dare you to find it, even in close inspection. Your body will heal, of that I am sure. Your fur will grow, and the mark shall take form.”

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“It is interesting, is it not? Our princess disappears without a trace. Some days ago, you are spotted passing through Ponyville, looking so comically inconspicuous it is as if you want to be seen. Our princess soon returns, and you are revealed to be covered in wounds of a magical nature.”

The faint smell of flowers grows stronger. When I turn my head, I realize the mare is standing quite close to me, with her face a few inches from my snout. “I will not attempt to learn what happened. If Princess Celestia wanted us to know, she would have shared the story. Perhaps you rescued her from dragons or plucked her from a nightmare world. Perhaps the visage of drunken playcolt is just that, a visage, and beneath it you are a noble stallion who watches over all of us. I feel I must thank you, though.” She leans forward, and plants a delicate kiss upon my snout. “Thank you, Prince Blueblood.”

I feel a slight weight behind my eyes as my mouth falls agape. I turn my head the other way so the spa pony won’t see the tears that are forming in my eyes.

After the spa, Princess Sparkle asks to take me to a place called “Sweet Apple Acres” for a dinner prepared special for me. She says her closet friends will be there. My mouth is drooling at the thought of something other than hospital food, even if it is the food of carnival folk, but the mention of her friends gives me pause. The scarlet workhorse who had punched me is the brother of one of her friends. In my present state, I have no doubt he will kill me. If he does not, surely Miss Rarity will, as our reconciling in Canterlot did not seem to stick with her. I insulted Miss Applejack’s fare last time we met, and though I am not sure if I have ever met Miss Rainbow Dash, I have no doubt she will find something about my personality unsavory, and hurt me in the grotesque, brutish manner that pegasi are so fond of.

I’m slightly ashamed to say, but I scoot just a little closer to little Princess Sparkle. She will protect me, I hope.

“In all of the locations, in all the empire, why have you selected the residence of a workhorse family?” I ask. “This may very well be my last night before Aunt Tia’s spells take full effect. Why not take me someplace proper?”

Cadance jabs my ribs, sending a wave of pain through me. I glare at her, and she does bow her head, offering a silent apology.

Princess Sparkle sighs. “You did something great, prince, but politics shall erase your achievement from history. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but my brother, and your aunts will be there too. I understand that you would prefer the finest cuisine in Canterlot, but we this little get together cannot be made public, so I hope sharing the table with friends will compensate.”

I hear her words, and yet I replay them again and again in my mind, unsure if I heard correct.

“By the sun,” Cadance says, pausing at each word to add emphasis. “Blue… are you crying?”

“You jabbed me in the ribs,” I snap. My stomach rumbles. The exertion of trotting even this short way has already taxed my exhausted body. “Is it much further?”

“The Acres is on the edge of Ponyville,” the purple mare continues. “It isn’t much farther, though we would get their faster if Cadance could keep her focus.”

I look behind me. It seems Cadance has been distracted by a poster on the wall. Her face contorts into a look of anger, and her horn sparks once or twice in magical rage. Princess Sparkle sees the poster, and lifts her hoof to muffle a giggle. I finally take a good look at it, and can’t help but let a smile cross my lips.

“It’s disgusting,” Cadance says.

“It’s… kind of funny,” Princess Sparkle giggles.

“It’s art,” I say, quite proud.

It seems, not only have the Discordians spread to this quaint rural village, but they have added a new poster to their repertoire. The poster that I stare at is a rather handsome portrait of my royal visage, smiling gorgeously, as always. Scrawled across the top of the portrait is the word, “Obey.” I haven’t the slightest clue what it is referring to, but I look quite spiffy. For some strange reason, I’m touched that the Discordians… consider me part of royalty.

Cadance’s horn glows. She wants to decimate the poster and the entire wall, but I run my hoof down her back to calm her. I don’t see what she is huffy about. My entire colthood was filled with her playing pranks on me. Perhaps she is simply jealous she didn’t think of this latest one. Using my magic, I carefully take the poster off the wall and wrap it tightly, before slipping it into my saddle bag where it’ll be safe.

“You love anything with your face on it, don’t you?” Cadance asks.

I feel the start of a blush on my muzzle. “I think it should go in the royal throne room. I’m sure it’ll have a great life in there. Now Twilight, would you please lead the way? I am absolute famished.”

Happily, I trot off, a pair of beautiful mares at my side.

Author's Note

Thank you, everyone who has been reading this far. If you have enjoyed, please consider a thumbs-up.