It was a beautiful evening, and though it was a little chilly sitting outside with Prince Blueblood, Octavia did not mind a single jot. The table between them had, indeed, once had plates with food on them, as they had eaten together. But they had long since been taken away, and now they were alone.
"Octavia," said Blueblood, picking up the conversation again, "what do you think about the sky?" He was smiling. Any time he spent with this mare seemed to fill him up inside, deeper than he had thought he could be.
Octavia looked down from the stars, back at her prince's face. She smiled a little as she answered him, saying "Why, it's beautiful, of course. I love the clear evenings like this one, just being able to see the stars."
"I know how you feel," the prince said. "I cannot go a night without looking for the handiwork of the Princess in it." Ruefully, he shook his head. "Beauty should be admired wherever it is found, after all."
Octavia giggled as he said it. "Why yes, my prince. This isn't the first time you've said that." She smiled at him, and winked. That, of course, was part of what she liked about him. He was predictably enjoyable company.
He coloured a bit, and nodded. "Yes, I'm not always the quickest to think of new things to say. It is my flaw, in that respect." He bowed his head, in mock shame, and Octavia giggled even more.
"It's a good thing I have it," he continued, "else I'd have far more pride than I do already." He chuckled a little after that, and Octavia joined in.
Eventually, he stood up, and helped her to her hooves. The two ponies walked over to the railing on the balcony, and looked down below them. The city of Canterlot always bustled, though tonight the lights they could see in the city below were for a different reason. It was the prince's birthday, and the holiday continued through the streets.
That was why he had retreated up here, with Octavia. Although he could easily speak to a single pony, or even to groups, he had always disliked crowds. And he preferred the truer celebration with a single pony, than a false one with the crowd.
He leant over to Octavia, and Octavia reciprocated at once.
It really was a beautiful evening.
