Prince Blueblood finished his days late. He always did, what with all his homework, studying, practicing, and dinners with the queen. Sometimes he would join Celestia for a bath, and on even rarer occasions, he’d sleep with her, too, more so for her sake than his (though he never felt safer or more secure than when he was dreaming away underneath her wing). But usually, Blueblood just went to his apartment, bathed, and went to bed. He had to wake early for his tutoring sessions and then go to school, after all.

But tonight, he found the princess sitting in the dark at his desk.

His eyes narrowed as he shut the door. Only the cruel moonlight lit his room.

“What is it?” he demanded before slipping off his panniers and making his way to his bed. He may as well be comfortable.

She said nothing for awhile, instead opting to sip her dark wine, gaze transfixed on the moon.

“What do you want?” he questioned again.

“Interesting that you chose an apartment with such a good view of the moon,” Princess Blueblood commented, her tone nonchalant.

“And?” he snapped. “Just say what you want to say. I don’t like it when ponies aren’t direct.”

She glanced at him before turning her eyes back to the night sky. “Do not be so forthcoming when you wish to fight with somepony else. It puts them on guard and helps them prepare. It is better to surprise them,” she explained, not at all bothered by his combative language.

“Whatever,” he brushed her off.

“Do you like being reminded of your destiny?” she asked.

Blueblood the Younger scoffed. “No. Who likes looking at their executioner? I don’t like looking at Nightmare Moon, but I need to remember why I’m working so hard in the first place.”

“I figured as much,” she exhaled softly. She sipped her wine again.

“I know you didn’t come here to talk décor, so either spit it out or get out.”

“The queen has informed me about your budding friendship with Sunset Shimmer.”

The prince bristled. “And?”

“It’s… nothing,” she concluded. “I’ll just lea—”

“Why are you here?” he repeated in a loud, commanding voice.

“Keep your voice dow—”

“Tell me!” he shouted.

The princess sighed again. “Truthfully, I don’t know,” she responded.

“I know why you’re here,” her nephew concluded.

“Do you?”

“You’re here because the idea of me having a friend is just too selfish and horrible for you to imagine, and rather than let me have that small happiness, you want to take it out of my hooves and crush it in yours!” he accused.

She drank from her wine, but did not comment.

“But, Princess, unfortunately for you, the world will need Sunset Shimmer and I to work together in the future, so we may as well get to know each other now. Strangers don’t work as well together as friends, right?” he spat. “So right now, you’re confused: do I crush my nephew’s hopes and dreams again, or do I let him be happy for once and make a strong ally. Decisions, decisions,” Blueblood the Younger sneered out the last sentence, acid dripping from his tone.

“Hmph,” she gave him a bemused grunt. “Do you hate me that much?”

He recoiled slightly, somewhat taken aback by her question.

The princess continued. “Am I really just some villain to you? Some wickéd pony who takes joy in crushing your heart over and over again?”

She finished off the last drops of her wine and then poured in some more.

“It must seem that way, doesn’t it, nephew? I’m the one who warned you about Nightmare Moon, I’m the one who begged the queen to make you prince, I'm the one who made you so cruelly rebuke Twilight Sparkle, and I’m going to be the one who kills you. I’m killing you right now, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed at her last statement. “So after all my hard work, after everything I sacrificed and I’m going to sacrifice for the crown, you’re going to assassinate me?” he demanded.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” she sighed. “I’m doing something far more repulsive than forcing you to cross over to the next life. No, the queen was right: I’m killing your heart.”

The princess laughed a joyless laugh and she outstretched her legs, as if to welcome and embrace somepony. “Not even you, your grace,” she said to the moon, “are so vile.” She laughed again. “I can’t believe that I, some mortal, forgettable pony, am going to do something so cruel that even you wouldn’t do it.”

“Why did you come here?” he asked one time more, this time with caution rather than anger.

She downed her glass. “You were right, nephew: I did come here to talk to you about Sunset Shimmer. But then— just as you explained— I asked myself ‘Why?’ Why even bring her up when you’re going to use her—?”

“Sunset’s a pony, not a hammer. I’m not going to use her, I’m going to work with her,” he interjected.

The princess chuckled as she filled her glass again. “Hm, yes, I see Queen Celestia is rubbing off on you. As I was saying, why bring her up when you’re going to work with her when Nightmare Moon comes? But then I realized why.” She laughed. “And I thought to myself, ‘not yet,’ but then I thought to myself, ‘perhaps I should.’” Blueblood the Elder finished with a drunken giggle.

“Should you be drinking so much?” he asked, wanting to steer the conversation away to a more innocuous topic.

“Drinking? I’ve hardly touched this stuff. Why back when I was still young, I could drink twice this and still be sober enough to duel! My, how time flies,” she giggled again.

Prince Blueblood looked at the decrepit mare in distaste. He had seen his mother drink herself into foolishness many times, and he had long since learned that it was best to let her sleep until she was mostly sober. “Do you want to go to bed?” he offered. “You can sleep here, and I’ll just sleep with Celestia.”

She waved him off. “No, I’ll go to bed in my bed, thank you very much. I don’t need Celestia involved in this mess.”

The princess drank some wine again. “You know, before you came in the picture, the queen and I agreed on most things, and what we didn’t agree on, I deferred to her judgment. She’s god-queen eternal after all. Oh, how I loved and admired her! How I love and admire her now, much like most of her little ponies. But, in my humble opinion, the love of a Blueblood runs deeper than anypony else’s: we’re the ones who get a glimpse into her mysterious heart, we’re the ones who sleep with her when the night is too much to bear, and we’re the ones who listen when all other ears are shut out.

“But I digress. You know, I agreed with Celestia on most things and, and, and I already said this, yes? Thought so. But there’s one thing that I completely defy her on. Can you guess what that is?”

“Nightmare Moon?” he offered, his anger having dissipated into caution for his drunk and rambling aunt.

“You,” she concluded. “But even so, I only defy her in action, not in my heart.”

Blueblood the Elder drank and at last turned to face him. Her eyes were as Celestia’s: old, exhausted, and burdened with an unfortunately long lifetime of sorrows. “When I look at you, all I can see is regret: regret for when I spoke to you that morning, regret when I begged Celestia to make you prince, regret for pushing you away from Twilight Sparkle, and regret for what I’m turning you into.”

She turned back to look at the night sky, a hoof over her heart. “You will always haunt me, nephew. Even when I am dead and within the gates of Tambelon, you will continue to haunt me, but even knowing that, I’m not going to change: this world is too precious to place its value below that of a child. For that, I’m sorry, nephew. Eternally so.”

She sipped a bit more wine. “It’s strange. The day after your coronation, I warned you of the arduous journey you would undertake. What I did not take into consideration was the painful journey I would be taking myself.”

“Princess…?”

“I, I,” she fumbled with the words, due to her drunkenness, age, and emotion.

“Do you… want to talk to Queen Celestia?” he offered. “I’ll take you to her— or I'll bring her here, if you want.”

“No,” Blueblood the Elder shot down the idea. “I can’t speak to her about this: she already has enough to worry about.”

“Well, maybe you could speak to, um…” he looked at the canopy of his bed, trying to think of somepony else. Wait, did she…?

“Princess?”

“Yes?”

“Do, do you speak to anypony else aside from Celestia and I? Do you have any other friends?”

The bottle slipped from her magical grasp and clunked onto the floor. Wine sloshed out.

“Never mind,” the prince quickly retracted his statement.

“I thought I did,” she murmured, gazing intently at the moon. “A long, long time ago, I honestly thought I did. Just as Princess Bluebell thought our grandfather truly loved her. Just as you…” A single tear slid out of her eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked, even though they both knew the answer.

“I am Blueblood. My personal feelings are irrelevant. Go to bed, nephew; you have a busy day tomorrow.”

“I think I’ll go sleep with Celestia tonight,” he stated as he got up. “Why don’t you sleep here?”

She attempted to get up but almost slipped. He was immediately at her side.

“Come on,” he gently urged her. “I’ll help you.”

She did not argue when he led her into his bed. She did not fight when he magically lifted her up, nor did she chastise his rather clumsy form. She didn’t even scold him for tucking her in. Instead, she looked ahead blankly, lost in both her head and heart.

He left without another word and made his way to Queen Celestia’s apartment. The guards let him in with no fuss.

He saw her majesty's still form underneath the silken sheets and silently debated with himself whether or not to tell her what had transpired. The prince made it to her bed and attempted to get in.

A single, bleary eye looked into his and Celestia lifted her head to take in his scent. Feeling her warm breath at his muzzle, Blueblood decided to remain silent.

The princess was right: Celestia had enough to deal with.

Besides, she was Blueblood. Her personal feelings were irrelevant.

He slipped into the sun god’s bed and slept.

Author's Note

Please point out any typos.

Whenever I hear Princess Blueblood speak, I always hear Frank Welker's Megatron talking. The only difference being that her voice isn't anywhere near as jaded or harsh as his.