Blueblood awoke right on time, eight in the morning on the beat. Years of routine had perfected it to a sweet science; enough beauty sleep to maintain his good looks, but not enough to develop a lazy habit. The day had already started and he had much to do if his carefully laid plans would bear fruit.
Blueblood may have been very distantly related to their immortal regent, but it meant little in regards to tangible means as far as he was concerned. Even his so-called ‘Prince’ title had started as a joke by one of his friends (and had spawned a litany of taunts and ribbings about what happened to his wings or the space rock he was supposed to lift), but he had managed to work it into his favor and convinced his peers that it was almost legitimate. Even Princess Celestia sometimes referred to him as her ‘nephew’, although he wasn’t entirely certain she was serious or not. You never knew with the Princess.
How he envied the griffon kingdoms, where power and respect was awarded based on your heritage. In Equestria, Celestia expected her ponies to work for a living. Then again, the griffons routinely fought and sometimes killed each other over those positions of power, and he rather preferred to not have to deal with that kind of business.
The rest of the morning went as usual. A brief but regimented workout to keep his muscles toned and the fat at bay. A breakfast carefully planned to provide all the nutrients necessary to keep him at peak health and physique. And a bathroom routine that would shame Photo Finish’s fussiest models. Blueblood’s face was his fortune. As were his teeth, his mane, his muscles, his flanks, and his stylish cutie mark.
Providence may not have granted him much, but it had given him good looks, and by Celestia’s blazing sun, he made it work. He was Canterlot’s most eligible bachelor, the greatest playcolt on the block. All the mares (and quite a few stallions) desired him. His face got him invited to all sorts of events. He’d make friends – what passed for friends among the social elite, at the very least – and now and then he’d take somepony home for the night just to remind the gossip circuit that his good looks weren’t just for show. The contacts and business opportunities he made kept him afloat and afforded him a nice flat and cushy living without having to do anything actually productive, although sometimes he wondered if having a ‘real’ job like selling apples or waiting tables would be less stressful than what he did.
It didn’t matter. None of that mattered. Tonight his greatest work would take place, and he would hit easy street. Tonight was the Grand Galloping Gala, and he, Prince Blueblood, would claim the heart of one of the Elements of Harmony.
Everypony knew about the Elements, of course. Six mares with ancient artifacts who had vanquished the dreaded Nightmare Moon and freed Princess Luna from her grasp. They were Equestria’s greatest heroines, ponies second only to the Princesses when it came to importance – and they would be attending the Gala.
There was a frustrating dearth of knowledge about the actual ponies in question, though. Names, appearances, tribes – nothing. None of his Canterlot contacts could provide anything conclusive beyond that they were all female and one was an earth pony. Inquiries in the castle suggested that Celestia herself was keeping them anonymous, which admittedly made sense to Blueblood. Military secrecy and all that.
Still, just because Blueblood was handsome didn’t mean he was dumb. If the Elements were attending, he’d find them. They had those ancient artifacts – some kind of jewelry, apparently – which would make them stand out. And they would be gorgeous. Heroes always were. They would walk among the lesser ponies like princesses, all heroic bearings and priceless outfits and indomitable spirits, and the other ponies would be so amazed that they’d hardly be able to speak. But then he’d come in, and he’d woo them with his confidence and charisma and fine looks and toned flanks.
...Well, he’s woo one of them. No need to get greedy or stupid. Just pick the one who seemed most approachable and compatible. And if he chose badly, he’d have five more chances. No problems.
And then they’d get married and he could enjoy fame and fortune for the rest of his life, and never have to work again. It would be a change of pace to have only one mare in his life, but he would cope. And a national heroine. That had got to be good.
Better get prepared for real, he decided. Break out his best jacket, get his mane styled properly, have somepony touch up his cutie mark a little to make it stand out more. Only a few hours until the Gala, and so much to do.
The Gala was underway, and Blueblood was not happy.
So far, the Gala had proceeded its usual predictable but comfortable routine, with no real excitement. However, that was mainly because the Elements had failed to make their appearance. Or if they had, they were very well disguised. He’d looked in every hall, garden and room, and nowhere were any national heroes to be found. He was fairly certain that he knew almost everypony attending, given how he’d searched. He even attempted to ask Princess Celestia about it – in a careful, inconspicuous way, of course – but her assistant glared at him and fumed and implied that he wasn’t welcome, so he left them alone. Really, the girl looked like she could use some loosening up, but he was after more important ponies tonight.
What’s worse, he had picked up a freeloader along the way. Some charity worker or something from some small town somewhere; he hadn’t listened too closely. Clearly a gold digger who thought she could hitch her wagon to the most eligible bachelor in Canterlot. He appreciated the irony, given that he was trying to do much the same thing, and she wasn’t too shabby – certainly not as desperate as some fillies could be – but he had a job to do, and he couldn’t afford to be weighted down with baggage. Fortunately, he knew just the way to get her off his back…
Was the mare a masochist? Did she enjoy mistreatment? Or was she simply too dim to take the hint?
Blueblood had tried everything he could think of to chase her off short of kicking her in the face or screaming at her. He had snubbed her, he had ignored her, he had forced her to ruin her scarf in a puddle. He had even made her pay for his food at an apple stand (a strange sight in itself, as the Gala was supposed to be catered) and then spat it out just to insult her selection and render any satisfaction from her effort null and void. And yet she kept sticking to him like a big white leech.
It wasn’t personal, of course. He didn’t know her, but she was clearly both attractive and accomplished by regular pony standards, and on any other night he would have been perfectly happy with her company. But tonight he was aiming for the stars, and her presence was a clear hindrance. How could he give his truly desired lady the full force of his charm and charisma with this unicorn on his leg? What kind of mixed message would he send when he tried to present the Blueblood Experience with somepony behind him clearly acting like his date? The heroine would obviously see him as a philanderer of no worth and pass him by. He was not a philanderer! Well, he may have been – all part of the game, after all – but he was fully intending to commit himself to his dream girl.
Wherever she may be. He had yet to to find any of the Elements, a task not made any easier by the obstructive gold digger who kept intruding on his attention. Maybe his original estimation of their radiance was a bit overconfident. Perhaps they did not shine with beauty and destiny, or tower over the lesser ponies. Perhaps they would tone down their greatness so as to not intimidate and scare. Still. Blueblood had a discerning eye, and he would recognize them.
He’d just have to lose the extra weight.
The Gala was officially ruined.
Some drunken flier had crashed into the ballroom and brought down the roof, the guests had fled when baked goods started flying through the air, and a crazed lunatic had chased the entire royal menagerie into the palace. It was madness. Panic everywhere. And Princess Celestia seemed to have vanished somewhere instead of dealing with this disaster.
He’d managed to lose the charity girl, though not in the intended way. His memory was a bit hazy on the point, but apparently when a huge cake came flying at him, he’d panicked and taken cover… behind the girl, who took the brunt of the attack. That had apparently been the last straw, and she snapped completely and started throwing the remains of the cake at him before storming off. Because evidently she had still expected chivalrous behavior after all his decidedly un-chivalrous acts, instead of sensibly cutting her losses and finding a more receptive date. Well. He had planned to write her a letter, explain the reason for his actions and apologize for her treatment, perhaps provide an invitation to some other event as compensation, but now he wasn’t sure she deserved it.
The worst part? The Elements hadn’t shown up after all. In retrospect, it made sense. Obviously they were called off to save Equestria somewhere else, or occupied with some other, more important engagement. It explained why the Princess had been called off so unexpectedly. Or perhaps they simply didn’t care for mundane pleasures like the Gala. They were the Elements of Harmony; mares cut from a completely different cloth altogether. Social gatherings with the Canterlot elite was wonderful for the Canterlot elite, but ponies who saved the world on a regular basis had different standards. They clearly moved in circles he could only dream of.
No matter. He may have lost the fight, but the war was far from over. Celestia willing, he may yet have another chance, and he would not fail again.
But that was another night. Right now, all he wanted to do was to go home, wash off the cake, and get some sleep. He’d need a few extra hours to make up for this.
Author's Note
It's always struck me as strange that so many fans think that Equestria should have an active, scheming 'Game of Thrones'-style noble caste when you never see any evidence of it on the show. Equestria seems more like a meritocracy than anything. Photo Finish, Hoity Toity and Sapphire Shores? Working entertainment industry ponies. Fancypants, Jet Set, Upper Crust? Social networkers. And Blueblood? Works his one asset as hard as he can.
It's not an interpretation everyone would agree with, I'm sure, and I'm not denigrating anyone wanting to write a rich story of nobility and court intrigue. Still, I prefer it.
