Shadows of Canterlot

Far too soon, the little party had to come to an end. Though Fancy had offered his guests his spare rooms for the night, most had elected to return to their own homes. With the exception of Blueblood, as usual.

And so it was that Blueblood found himself walking along the lonely walkway of the courtyard towards the guest wing, the smell of wine and smoke still lingering on his clothing. There were other, more pleasant scents, of course; such was the good thing about having a courtyard with a garden.

He stopped for a moment, halfway tempted to simply stay out here for the night. He’d found he loved it out here, to his pleasant surprise. It was nowhere as big as the massive gardens outside the castle, what with the roaming wildlife and confusing hedge mazes and endless little groves and pools and artificial streams; but that was why he liked it. It felt... intimate, in a way. Cozily familiar, like an affectionate hug on a winter night or an evening spent dozing in an overstuffed, comfy chair by the fireplace.

Barely noticing what he was doing, Blueblood stepped off the walkway and wandered into the courtyard, finding his way to a lone bench in the corner. It was a cloudless night out, the moon’s light reflected off the shiny marble flagstones that led from one side to the other. A cool breeze blew past him, quite welcome on a hot August night, rustling the flowers and shrubs around him.

There was an informal, artless elegance to the garden, much like the one who planted it. Roses and marigolds alike were planted beside each other; violets shared their beds with primroses and rue with bee balm, all haphazardly clustered together as if the seeds had been scattered at random. Morning Glory and vase vines curled and twisted their way up and around the pillars of the little cloister’s arcade, as if reaching for the moonlight. And scattered hither and thither were the ever-present clusters of lavender, the smell sweet and inviting. He immediately thought of the lavender shampoo Fancy used, the scent usually accompanied by a tender hug from behind, a gentle laugh, warm water dripping down his coat...

Blueblood closed his eyes and leaned back with a sigh, feeling cold despite the summer air. It would do him no good for his mind to dwell too much on the subject of Fancy, he knew. He had what he wanted, after all, didn’t he? He had a good, comfortable life; a position of responsibility; the freedom to bed whomever he wished; and a best friend who showered him with affection, despite having a full-time lover of his own as well. What more could he really ask for?

His mind turned to the garden, instead, in an attempt to move away from that direction. How long had it taken for Fancy to plant it all? Had he done it all at once, or had it grown over time; a primrose here, a cluster of red pansies there, a pink lily in a corner, all on a moment’s whim, until there was the garden seen today?

Blueblood almost laughed at the thought; Fancy was a lot of things, but he’d never known him to be so spontaneous. Everything would have been done with careful elegance that looked unplanned to the naked eye; every trowel of dirt deliberately dug, every seed planted precisely where he wanted it, not a single drop of water spilt from the watering can. That would be so like him, Blueblood thought wryly; even something as simple as gardening done with a delicate attention to detail in mind, though it would be so infuriatingly casual-looking. As if the very idea of Fancy doing something that messy and mundane wasn’t confusing enough, images came to the prince’s mind of the older stallion happily strolling along the paving stones, watering the violets and the roses and what-have-yous. Of course, there was Fleur looking on from one of the doorways as well, smiling that obnoxiously syrupy smile that he himself tried his best to hide every time he visited-

“Enjoying the garden, Blue?” said a quiet voice from behind him, soft and slightly teasing and far too close. Blueblood’s eyes snapped open, his heart fluttering in his chest as he turned to see Fancy smiling at him from a couple feet away, standing in a dim patch of light.

“I am,” Blueblood muttered, looking back towards the garden as he took a deep breath to calm himself. “I like being out here, you know? It’s... quiet.”

Fancy chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “My apologies, then. I didn’t mean to disturb you-”

“No, no, you’re not disturbing me,” Blueblood said almost too quickly, biting his lip as soon as he realised how frantic he sounded. He slumped further down in the bench, his eyes fixed on some random patch of pansies somewhere to the right.

Fancy raised an eyebrow, walking around the bench until he was standing beside him. “Are you alright, Blue? You’re not catching a cold or something, are you?”

Blueblood rolled his eyes, rising from the bench. “I’m fine, you worrying old stallion. I’m still young and hale yet.” Secretly, he was kind of glad for his concern, and was suddenly thankful it was too dark to see the faint flush on his muzzle. “Care to walk me to my room, if you’re so concerned with my health?”

“I wouldn’t mind, certainly,” Fancy said with his smile returning as he moved to Blueblood’s side.

The two of them made their way back up to the walkway, the only sound in the courtyard the steady clopping of hooves over marble tiles. Blueblood was happy for the company, of course, if only for a little while.

Soon, too soon really, they’d made it to the doorway of the guest room, the door already unlocked before Fancy pushed it open for him. Blueblood gave a grateful nod, stepping inside before promptly collapsing onto the bed, his muzzle buried in the soft covers. “Remind me why I don’t stay over here more often,” the prince mumbled. “Your guest beds are perfect.”

“Because you have two large houses and a room in the castle?” Fancy said with a grin as he shut the door behind him.

Blueblood turned over with a pout, looking up at Fancy. “Need you go and remind me? Now I don’t have an excuse to just sneak in here some week and hide out in the guest wing until you find me in the armoire or something.”

Fancy laughed, climbing up on the bed beside him. “Pity, that. My wine cellar will never forgive me for not letting you drain it for a week.” As he looked over at Blueblood, his face suddenly became more serious. “Are you alright, Blue? I know... I know comments like the ones at the party really get to you-”

Blueblood waved a hoof, brushing it off. “Fancy, I’m going to stop you right there. I’m fine now, okay? The anger is passed. I just needed to cool down, that’s all.”

Fancy looked unconvinced. “Are you sure? I mean, you seemed pretty distraught about it afterwards-”

“Fancy, I’m fine.” Blueblood muttered with a painfully forced smile. “Can we not talk about this anymore tonight?”

The other stallion frowned, but backed off as asked. “If that’s what you want. I’m just... you know I’m worried for you, right?”

“Yes, I know that,” Blueblood sighed, closing his eyes. “Though I appreciate it, it’s not needed tonight. I’m not some little colt to be taken care of anymore.”

He felt a hoof on his shoulder, and he turned back to see Fancy had moved closer, giving him that ridiculously charming smile that meant he was going to try to cheer Blueblood up. “I know you’re not; and I don’t treat you like one, anyways.” He grinned. “Even if I am older than you...”

“If six years’ difference means I’mstill a colt, then I’m surprised that moustache of yours isn’t turning grey by now, old timer,” Blueblood retorted, already feeling his melancholy starting to slip away, if only a little. He jabbed a hoof towards Fancy’s nose to make his point. “See? I think there are a few grey hairs there.” His muzzle broke into a grin of his own. “And a few more pounds than usual, too-”

He was cut off by a pillow held in a blue aura smacking him square in the muzzle. “Oof! I’ll get you for that, you sorry colt of a dam-” Another well-aimed pillow knocked him flat onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a slightly cross-eyed expression. “You didn’t have to throw so hard,” he pouted, gingerly reaching up to rub his muzzle.

Fancy’s face came into view above him, looking down at him with his wry little smirk. “First one was for calling me old. The second was for calling me fat.” He leaned down until his chin was just touching the other stallion’s, blue eyes meeting blue. “Best two out of three, or do you want to go another round?”

“... I think I’ll surrender while I’m ahead, O wise, ancient sage of the Eas- hey, not the feather! I beg you, anything but the feather!” Blueblood curled up into a mock defensive posture, his hooves held over his head as if to shield himself from the onslaught.

The aforementioned feather dropped to its usual place in the pocket of Fancy’s dressing gown. “Prince Blueblood, begging for something? And ticklish? The tabloids will have a field day.”

Blueblood rolled his eyes, moving his legs back into a more comfortable position. “As if they don’t have enough to print about me already. Or you, for that matter, since you tend to create headlines just by doing your job effectively.”

“And am I doing my job effectively right now?” Fancy asked suggestively, leaning into Blueblood’s side.

“Depends. Was your intention to cheer me up?”

“Yes,” Fancy said bluntly. “Did it work?”

Blueblood’s smile returned in full force this time. “Yes, it did. You stubbornly persistent old codger.”

Fancy beamed down at him, starting to climb off the bed. “Then I consider my job done properly- not that I’d be able to sleep until I did.” He turned to head towards the doorway. “What are friends for, after all?”

A sharp pang went through Blueblood’s heart as he saw the now-empty spot beside him, and he looked towards the retreating Fancy with a slightly panicked expression. “Wait, Fancy?” he blurted out. “Could you... give me a kiss good night? For luck? Y-you know, since I won’t see you until the night after tomorrow, since I’ll be hosting the orgy and later we’ll be in Parliament then and...” Almost immediately, he wanted to slap himself. O Bacchus, Gaia and all the Immortals, why did that have to come out so needy?

Before he could fret about it further, Fancy had already turned around, smiling gently. “Of course.” Blueblood was about to protest that it wasn’t necessary, but never got a chance as Fancy quickly made his way back over to his bedside. As Blueblood turned his head to apologise, he felt Fancy’s lips touch against his, the hairs of his moustache tickling his nose. It was warm, gentle, and far too brief, as Fancy soon pulled away. “Good night, Blue.”

With that, the other white stallion soon disappeared out into the courtyard once more, the half-open door letting in the warm air. “Good night, Fancy,” Blueblood whispered to himself, pronouncing Fancy’s name as if it were a charm to ward away any bad dreams, before his magic pulled the door shut. “I love you.”

Fancy walked back through the darkened hallways of his house with a serene smile, though nopony was up this late to see it. From what he could tell by the dim lamplight, the house was pretty deserted- which was to be expected at nearly 4 AM. With that in mind, he made his way to the doorway of his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“You were out late. Having a walk in the garden?” asked a familiar pink-maned mare lying on the bed. She was already under the sheets, her eyes bleary and slightly red.

Fancy shook his head, slipping off his dressing gown as he made to climb onto the other side of the bed. “No, I was just checking on Blueblood; he was still out in the garden when I found him.”

Fleur frowned, adjusting the pillow beneath her head as she moved to lie on her side. “You know he doesn’t need you hovering over him, right? He probably doesn’t want it, either.”

Fancy snorted, lying down to face her. “He doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it anyway. He’s my best friend, Fleur; if I don’t look out for his emotional well-being, who else will? The guards who are paid to make sure he doesn’t get himself abducted by some squealing fanfilly who thinks she’ll be his bride? His aunts, who are far too busy running a country to be comforting a grown stallion at 4 in the morning? His father, who he hasn’t seen more than once a year since he was a colt, and would probably do more harm than good if he stayed longer?”

Fleur sighed, laying onto her back and staring up at the painted pegasi and clouds on the ceiling as if they would reveal their hidden secrets if looked at long enough. “Point taken. I just...”

“I know, my lily. You’re concerned about me being too soft on him.”

Fleur made a noise that resembled a cross between a laugh and an awkward cough. “Fancy, he poisoned Gavel for insulting him, even if it was non-lethally. I think he can handle himself just fine.” She looked back towards him with a frown. “What if it was you, Fancy, who’d insulted him like that? Do you think he’d stop himself from poisoning you, as well? Or me, for that matter?”

Fancy looked affronted at the very idea. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fleur. He’s my best friend, and we’re all allies. He’s loyal.”

“So was Atia’s cook, until he got bribed enough,” Fleur muttered, before shaking her head. “No, then again, he’d never switch sides for a bribe; he’s already wealthier than both of us combined. You know how vindictive he can be, though; only Atia’s worse than him about that, and you know it.”

“I don’t see you questioning Atia’s loyalty, though,” Fancy said knowingly. “You’re jealous.”

Fleur froze up, before rolling onto her side to face away from him. “Maybe I am. Can I really help it? He’s... he’s everything a proper noble should be. Good blood, good breeding, an enormous inheritance, a family with lots of respect, doesn’t have to get his hooves dirty in the service of the Crown...” Her face was an expressionless mask, but her eyes were haunted. “..never had to kill anypony himself to make sure the nation stays protected. Never had to really stab anypony in the back, never had to poison anypony seriously, and make sure they died, waiting until they’re motionless before leaving quietly...”

Fancy reached a hoof to touch her shoulder, his blue eyes brimming with concern. “I know you don’t like to talk about your years in the Intelligence Service. What’s on your mind tonight? It’s not just Blueblood, is it?”

The mare sighed and shook her head. “It’s not, no. It’s... it’s them. Those damn mares and stallions who get into this stupid cloak and dagger routine like it's a game to them, when it's really just a bunch of petty rivalries over miniscule amounts of influence. Do they honestly care whether such and such is a whore, or so-and-so is fucking their brother or sister? If those three years as a spy for Crown and Country in Mareocco taught me anything, it’s there are important things at stake in the game of politics than reputations.” She punched a pillow for emphasis, her teeth gritted. “And I come back here to Canterlot, with a medal and a baronetcy for my years of service making sure me and my agents weren’t killed, and everypony is so obsessed with what family I come from?” She laughed darkly, her eye catching a picture of a stallion who looked quite like her, with a silver coat instead of white. “If this is what Prance is like, no wonder Père left.” She muttered, biting her lip.

Before she could say more, the sudden feel of hooves on her back drew her out of her thoughts for a moment. She tensed up slightly, unsure, before she felt the warm touch of his magic joining them as well, like a warm towel laid across her back. Soon enough, her shoulders slumped, feeling herself melting under Fancy’s touch. “Ooh, I needed that,” she whispered, her eyes closing almost of their own accord. “Sorry about that little, er, rant, by the way. You know I get a little carried away sometimes on the few occasions I get onto, well, that subject.”

Fancy nodded kindly, continuing to stroke Fleur’s back, earning little delicate sighs from her whenever he got just the right spot. “It’s quite alright. You know you can talk about whatever you need to with me, right?” She only nodded in response, not really able to gather her words at the moment. “Oh, and Fleur? Blue is my best friend, but you know we are nothing more to each other than that. Though you know I go to his bed sometimes, who is it I come home to at night?” She shook her head, knowing it was a strictly rhetorical question. Though she seriously doubted Blueblood’s feelings towards Fancy were simple friendship with a sexual attraction mixed in, she didn’t want to contest the point at the moment. “You, my lily, my Fleur de Lis. It’s you I share a house with, you I lay beside every night, whether you’re feeling fine or feeling awful.”

He leaned down to gently kiss the back of her neck, noting her slight squirm with amusement. “You’re my marefriend, Fleur. And I’m your coltfriend. And as long as I can avoid screwing that up, that will not change.”

“You promise?” she asked softly, unsure, rolling onto her side once more so she could look up at him.

“I promise,” Fancy confirmed, leaning down to kiss her, his lips brushing hers for a moment before she kissed back fervently, wrapping her forehooves around him as if scared he’d let her go.

They lay like that for a little over a minute, before she pulled away, breathless. “I love you,” she whispered reverently, as if speaking to an apparition that might disappear if she looked for too long.

“I love you too, my lily.”