Unspoken

“Oooh, Raven!” Prince Blueblood, now spent, breathed a shuddering sigh, lowered himself, and laid belly-to-belly on top of me. Without my spectacles or a close-up view of his straining face, I found myself staring up from his bed at the blurry shapes of his bedroom ceiling. I sighed and hooked my pasterns behind his withers while he laid on top of me and puffed hot, heavy, satisfied breaths against my neck.

Absent of the activity that created them, beads of sweat banded together and followed gravity’s direction to blaze wet trails that tickled my neck, thighs, sides, and face. There was little else for me to do now than ponder if I would first die of heat prostration underneath him, or of extreme humiliation when he ordered me out of his bedroom. I licked my lips and swallowed as my eyes watered, further blurring my uncorrected vision.

“How did you get here, Raven Inkwell?” I mentally asked myself. That would not be the last question I wanted answered that evening.

* * *

Prince Blueblood and I first met – quite literally – by accident. That day I was walking down a hall in the Royal Palace to my third interview for a position as one of Princess Celestia’s aides. I was careful to keep on the rubber matting that led to my appointment, but a mirror caught my eye and I stopped to check my appearance one last time. My dark chocolate mane remained in place in the tight hair bun without a stray lock to be seen, and my bangs swept back like parted curtains against my pale coat. On my neck, my starched white collar stood up proudly and contrasted beautifully with my billowy, bright-red, silk ascot. Everything about me looked prim and professional. Everything except for my boorish brown eyes, magnified to cartoonish proportions by my thick, black, horn-rimmed spectacles. Those two features continued to disappoint and ruin my persona of the perfect, professional, high-level aide.

Even though my spectacles were seated perfectly on the bridge of my nose, I re-positioned them anyway, as though I might attain through some minuscule adjustment the miracle setting that made my eyes appear interesting, intelligent, or perhaps something closer to normal. However, that miracle continued to elude me and I frowned at my reflection.

My eyes have always been my weakest feature, both in appearance and in function. In appearance, because they were basic brown in color and completely unremarkable. In function, because my vision tested just above the standard set by optometrists for legal blindness. While wearing my spectacles, I could see as well as the average pony, but without them, I groped about as though I were sightless. Amorphous colors and bright, fuzzy lights passed on no useful information unless I could bring the object up to about a hoof-breadth of my nose. There the blurred shapes would finally coalesce into something recognizable, like a gleaming pair of sharp shears, or a burning candle, or my own lost spectacles glinting in the light. Every moment I spent without those hideous frames and their thick, heavy, glass lenses weighing on my nose made me feel completely blind, no matter what any doctor said.

A clock chimed at the three-quarter hour and snapped me out of my inspection and self-critique. I had wanted to be at my appointment right now, and there I was wasting time in a hallway. I quickly trotted off and went to turn the corner, but rammed into what felt like a solid wood statue. My spectacles flew off my face and my attaché case burst open as I first rebounded back onto my haunch, and then – with my forelegs flailing in vain – I ignominiously toppled over onto my back. The stallion I collided with didn’t simply laugh as I floundered there on the floor, after his initial pompous chuckle, he mocked me.

“What kind of simpleton are you?” He asked harshly as I rolled over onto my belly and started sweeping the area around me, searching desperately for my spectacles. “Are you blind?” He asked as I groped about, crawling inch by inch along the floor.

“Not at all,” I answered, feeling my cheeks flush with heat, “but I need my spectacles to see.”

“Well, I remain unconvinced,” the white stallion arrogantly harrumphed, “you just blindly ran straight into me. If you are here to interview for the palace staff positions, let me save you the trouble. My aunt cannot afford to have any infirmed on her staff. Especially the blind.”

The edges of my vision went red and I felt my face burn purple with indignation. “I’m neither infirmed nor blind,” I retorted through clenched teeth, “I see as well as anypony when I am wearing my spectacles.”

“Here. Prove it.” The stallion said coldly.

I felt something press against my cheek and my hooves went to my face to catch the object suspended there. It was indeed my spectacles and I wasted no time putting them on. Now I could clearly see the white unicorn stallion that I would soon know and loathe as Prince Blueblood.

Although he was still sneering at me, my breath caught at his polished, handsome appearance. Even then, angry and humiliated as I was, I didn’t think that there was any way I could ever consider him ugly. From his golden blonde mane that flowed from the top of his head and cascaded in waves down his slender neck, to his athletic shoulders and chest, to his bright, turquoise-blue eyes that peered down past his perfect nose and sculpted cheekbones; there was no doubt in my mind that, he was somehow royal by blood to Princess Celestia and had inherited her finest qualities.

“Well? Can you see now? Do you know who I am?” Prince Blueblood asked icily.

“Yes,” I answered, no longer feeling angry, but ashamed at my inattentive clumsiness and my relative humble appearance and position. “You’re Prince Blueblood: The only officially recognized relation of Princess Celestia.”

Prince Blueblood showed no surprise nor satisfaction at my recognizing him. It was as though he presumed that all ponies knew him on sight. “This one time I will overlook your affront. However, since you claim to be able to see as well as anypony, if this happens again, I must conclude that your collision was purposeful.”

His lips pulled back on the left side into a lopsided grin; the first of many cock-eyed smiles he would later give me. “Now, Ms. Train Wreck is it? See about picking up your debris.” He tossed his head and strode away with his chin high, leaving me on the floor with my cheeks aflame and my pride in shambles. Somehow, as I regathered my things, I also collected the strength to pick myself up and continue to my appointment.

It was a mystery to me how I managed to pass my interview that day. But pass it, I did. Immediately afterward, I passed my next interview: a surprise meeting with Princess Celestia herself! I impressed Princess Celestia so much that she offered me the responsibility of being her personal aide at the end of that interview! I was so elated to have been personally chosen by Celestia herself that I had completely forgotten about my rough encounter with Blueblood. Until my first week on the job.

Running anywhere in the palace was prohibited. So I learned that all staff members lengthened their stride or quickened their pace to briskly walk if they were in a hurry, all the while maintaining their professional demeanor as they did so. I was determined to not just follow their example, but to somehow surpass it.

However, I quickly learned that the omnipresent and impossibly smooth marble flooring was not conducive to brisk walking and long strides. Too sharp of a turn would cause my hooves to fly out from underneath me. Similarly, if I took too long of a stride, I could find myself sprawled out and sliding on my belly. It was exactly that posture that I found myself in when I next met Blueblood.

“Well, look who it is!” Prince Blueblood feigned surprise as I pushed my spectacles back up the bridge of my nose and started sweeping my scattered things together. “I couldn’t place you when I saw you on your hooves walking up the hall, but it is easy for me to recognize you now.” He said with his pompous whiplash-grin.

I didn’t answer, but my cheeks reddened to the same heat and hue that I had worn when we had first met.

“I see that you have learned a new trick: Falling flat on your face for no reason what-so-ever. Brava.” He clapped his hooves twice in mock applause. “I had thought when we first met that you had ambitions of being the new personal aide to Princess Celestia.” His arrogant smirk faded into frown of distain. “But now I see that we have in our employ an official royal fool! Congratulations, Ms. Train Wreck, on becoming the new court jester.” Then he abruptly turned up his nose, and left.

It was only the knowledge that Princess Celestia was depending on me to run her errand that made me sweep up my things and pick myself up from the floor.