Blueblood Manor was the picture of noble affluence. The sprawling estate was a masterpiece of landscaping and architecture. Land was at a premium in Canterlot, which made its luxurious and immaculately maintained lawn and gardens an even clearer statement of wealth and power. The manor’s facade, columns and pillars were all made of flawless marble, carved in traditional Roaman fashion.
“…hated you with a fiery passion, you worthless…”
It came with all of the amenities that money and magic could provide. Including an excellent selection of muffling and silencing spells.
“… can’t believe… .related…”
Which was why Silent Steward could barely hear the sound of glass shattering and furniture breaking from where he stood vigil, just outside the double doors leading to the main foyer.
“… resist your base urges, but no! you had to…”
Steward had been the personal valet of two generations of Bluebloods. He often despaired when he considered the odds that he would serve a third. Still, he had served the current Prince’s father with skill, dignity, and discretion. And he would do the same for the current Lord of the manor. As would the rest of the staff.
They were nothing if not loyal.
“… useless bastard!”
Silent Steward sighed and shook his head sadly and made a note to have a hangover potion readied for the morning. The Prince had important matters to attend to tomorrow, and it wouldn’t do for him to be cranky and hung over during such an auspicious occasion.
Blueblood giggled and smiled at the silly face the mare standing above him was making. He loved when she made the silly face, or when she played the game where she hid her face behind her hooves. And he especially loved it when she’d lean down and tickle his tummy with her face!
The silly mare had a name. Names were funny things, and Blueblood was just starting to understand them. He knew his name of course. And the pretty white stallion and mare were Mommy and Daddy. But Mommy and Daddy called the silly faced mare Nanny, which was strange. Because Blueblood could just barely remember another mare with the same name, who used to change his nappies. Maybe they shared names?
But none of that really mattered to Blueblood. He had Nanny and Mommy and Daddy, and he loved all three of them. Even if he wished Mommy and Daddy played with him more. He loved them all, and he knew they’d all be together forever.
Silent Steward was a skilled and knowledgeable valet, and thus knew exactly when his master would be awakening the next morning. At eighteen minutes past seven the light of Celestia's sun would begin to shine through the cracks in crevices of the master bedroom's shutters. Mortal eyelids would be no match for the tiny beams of concentrated sunlight that would shine down upon the Prince's face.
And even if Silent's watch had failed him, the low, miserable groaning that echoed out from the other side of the door would have been a sufficient clue as to his master's state.
By the time Blueblood had opened his bloodshot eyes, Silent was before him with a glass of hangover potion on a silver tray for him to focus on.
He quaffed it with all possible haste before breathing a sigh of relief.
“Thank you Silent. You are truly a life saver.”
“Of course, your Highness.” Silent gave a slight bow, whisking the empty glass to the side.
Blueblood groaned and rubbed his eyes, allowing the magical elixir to take effect. “I suppose I made quite a mess of the foyer last evening?”
“There is a bit to tidy up Sir, but nothing worth mentioning. I took the liberty of replacing the good furniture with something… more replaceable yesterday afternoon.”
“Ah. I thought those chairs felt flimsier than usual. Good show Silent. And the painting?”
“Intact, as always, your Highness.”
With a sigh, the prince ceased rubbing his eyes and opened them for the first time, his hangover, if not quite gone, then at least abated.
“Well Silent, I suppose it's time to get up and at it.”
“Right you are sir.”
It was a quiet evening in Blueblood manor. Young Prince Blueblood sat before the fire, happily reading a foal's book. This one was an exciting travelogue of the strange and mysterious land of Zebrica. He was drawn from the lurid, if foalish, accounts of foreign lands by his Father's voice.
“So son, what do you want for Hearth’s Warming this year?” His father asked from his favored arm chair.
Blueblood knew exactly what he wanted this year. He'd given it a lot of thought over the past few months. He wanted a friend and playmate. Somepony that would always be there for him. Somepony that wouldn't leave and be replaced every few months, like his nannies. Somepony that would look up to him, that he could teach and care for and love.
“I want a little brother or sister.” He declared, with a firm, confident nod.
Father just chuckled, while Mother snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Another sibling? Hmph. We just let the last maid go a week ago.” She shot her husband an amused look and took another sip of her wine.
Blueblood's ears and tail drooped as he looked between his parents in confusion. He didn't understand.
His ignorance would not last forever.
Blueblood sighed happily as he leaned back in the beauticians chair. The feeling of a skilled hair stylist running her hooves through his mane and over his scalp was surprisingly soothing.
“Is everything going well back there, Dye Job?” He asked pleasantly.
“Of course your highness!” The beautician replied with a giggle. “Don't worry about a thing. We'll have your mane and tail done in no time.”
“Excellent. Just remember, it has to look exactly the same as last time. We wouldn't want anypony asking questions, would we?”
“Of course not, Master Blueblood.” Dye Job giggled as she began to massage more of her namesake into the stallion's mane, carefully separating out the strands of hair to make sure they were all dyed uniformly.
His once blonde mane and tail were quickly shifting to an electric blue.
“Oh, and make sure you're using temporary dye this time please. I don't want to have to hide in the manor for two weeks while it wears off.” He opened his eyes to give the mare a look. “Again.”
The Prince's smile took the bite out of his words, and Dye Job covered her mouth with a hoof to hide her giggle.
“Sorry about that your Highness. I won't make that mistake twice!”
Blueblood just nodded, then gave the mare a closer look.
“Ah, you have a little something right about... Here...” He smirked, gesturing at his own lower lip.
The beautician glanced in the mirror… to see the spot where her pristine white coat had a blue hoof print dyed over her mouth.
“Oops!”
The sound of laughter filled the small room.
Blueblood meandered down the streets and alleys of Canterlot, wandering aimlessly as was his habit. Normally the winter chill would have kept him inside, but a restless mind had lead to a restless body this evening. He drew comfort from the warmth of the scarf around his neck, and the sound of new fallen snow crunching under his hooves.
He’d just turned thirteen recently, and had reached that awkward, gangly stage of life between colt and stallion. He was growing up, and starting to notice all sorts of things about the world around him. Like mares, for instance. He was definitely beginning to notice those. But that was far from the extent of his growing comprehension, nor the subject that had driven him from his home to conduct his periodic wanderings.
He was thirteen years old, and he had recently had an epiphany.
His mother and father did not love each other.
Oh, they cared about each other. He could see that much. But in the same way they cared about buying a new suit or dress, or throwing a lavish party. It was a marriage of convenience, and both clearly found it quite convenient. But Blueblood had begun to realize that this was not quite the same thing as love.
At least not the sort of love he saw between other ponies. Walking down the streets of Canterlot, he watched how other families behaved. The way commoner families grouped together. The way they played with their children, or whispered into each other’s ears. The closeness they shared with each other.
Was this something that only the lowborn experienced? It was so different from the cool, aloof behavior of his mother and father, or their highborn associates. Most of their marriages were conducted more like business deals than loving relationships. Was that just a inherent difference between nobility and commoners?
And if love and marriage were merely matters of position and convenience, what did that make him? Did they truly love him, or was his birth merely a formality, a tie to bind together his parent’s families? Was that his fate? To fulfill the role of nobility, marry a mare solely for her position and power, and sire an heir to continue the line of Blueblood for another generation?
And if so, was there anything wrong with that?
Blueblood had no answers for these questions, and nopony he felt he could ask. So he wandered the streets and alleys of Canterlot, lost in his own internal world, growing further and further from the affluent neighborhoods occupied by those of his station.
He was so distracted that he almost didn’t hear the quiet sounds of a mare crying…
“I see your appointment with Dye Job is over, Your Highness. Everything was satisfactory I hope?” Silent Steward asked calmly as he entered his Master's bedroom once more.
“Of course, Silent. Excellent work as always. Though Miss Job may need to learn more care in where she places her hooves.” When his Valet merely raised an eyebrow, Blueblood grinned at him. “You'll understand when next you see her.”
“If you say so, Sir.”
“So, hats. What do you think? The Fedora? Or the Newsboy?” He asked, trying on each in turn.
“I would say the Newsboy sir. It goes well with the mane, and it is what you wore to the last event.”
“The newsboy it is. Then.” Plopping the hat onto his head, he adjusted it in the mirror, ensuring it hid his horn.
“Is the carriage ready Silent?”
“Yes sir. And the package has already been wrapped and stowed away.”
“Excellent! Then I suppose it's time to be off! I wouldn't want to be late on such an auspicious occasion, would I?”
“Of course not, your Highness.”
With a slight tweak of his hat to set it at a jaunty angle, the disguised Blueblood made his way through the door.
The soft sobbing drew Blueblood out of his contemplation. Raising his head, his ears flickered, trying to pinpoint the origin of the sound. It was coming from a dim, dark alleyway to his left.
For the first time Blueblood realized just how far from his normal haunts he had wandered. The streets were dirty and dingy, the neighborhood unfamiliar. He felt a touch of fear, deep in his heart. But he calmed himself. It wasn’t as if he were lost. He knew the way home. He always knew the way home.
Again, came the soft sobbing. And unbidden, his hooves began to carry him to the alleyway, to see the origin of such a sad, hopeless sound.
It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the alley. The tall buildings on either side sheltered the passage from both the sun and the snow, but the layer of wet slush that covered the ground was perhaps even worse.
And there, sitting in the cold and ice, was a mare.
A familiar looking mare.
Her mane, once bright fiery red, was now a filthy, matted down mess. Her yellow coat was now dirty brown, with spots of mange. Her face, once full boned and pretty, was gaunt and sunken.
And her stomach, once smooth and flat, was now large and gravid with foal.
But still, Blueblood could recognize her, though he'd not seen her in seven or eight months.
“F.. Feather Duster?” He whispered in shock. And for the first time the unfortunate mare looked up to meet his eyes.
“L.. Lord Blueblood?” She sniffled quietly and shivered, her green eyes staring into his own. She reached towards him with thin, shaking forelegs.
“Please… Help….”
Blueblood took a step back, his legs shaking.
One step led to another. And then another.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was running back home.
Leaf Darter nudged his partner Evening Breeze with his wing when he spotted the disguised Prince turning the corner towards their carriage house.
“You’re sure you removed all the livery from the carriage, right Breeze?” He asked, glancing back at the aerial transport.
“Of course boss. I double checked it an hour ago.” The younger Pegasus mare rolled her eyes. “I really don’t see what the big deal is anyway. I thought the Prince loved showing off his name and station.”
“It’s not that simple. Sometimes he does. And sometimes he wants a bit of anonymity when he goes about his business.”
Evening Breeze just snorted. “In other words he’s heading off to find himself some floozie for the evening.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like all these big shot nobles don’t do the same…” Breeze tailed off when she noticed the look her partner was giving her.
It was not a kind look.
“Listen filly, you’re new here, so I’m going to let that slide. But if you value your job, and your teeth, you’ll keep thoughts like that to yourself.” His voice was cold and calm, but his eyes held a worrisome intensity. “The Prince doesn’t behave like that, not in all the years I’ve known him. And making that particular accusation against him… Well, there’s plenty of ponies working here who wouldn’t take it as calmly as myself. Understand?”
Evening Breeze had taken a few small steps backwards under Darter’s glare, and quickly threw him a salute.
“Yessir! Understood!”
“Good.” Darter fluttered his wings, visibly relaxing. “You just keep that in mind. In the meantime, check the harness straps again. Make sure everything is tight.”
“Right, sir!” Evening wasted no time rushing back to the carriage.
With a shake of his head, Darter turned back to the entrance to the carriage house, just in time for the Prince to arrive. The disguised Blueblood gave the younger Pegasus a smile when he spotted him and turned to face him.
“Ah, Leaf Darter! How’s your family doing? Is little Leaf Blower over the feather flu yet?” He asked cheerfully.
“Almost, your highness. The doctor said she’ll be fine in another day or two. Thank you for letting me have a few days off to help her mother care for her.” Darter replied, giving the Prince a small bow. Blueblood just chuckled and patted him on the back.
“Think nothing of it. Family is important. You need to make sure you take care of yours.” With a smile and a nod, the Prince entered his unmarked carriage.
"Father, I… I saw something on my walk yesterday.”
“Oh? What did you find, Son.” The elder Blueblood asked, his eyes never leaving his newspaper.
“Do you remember Miss Duster? Our previous maid?”
“Ah, yes. Feather Duster as I recall. Originally from Prance I believe.” He grinned at the memory, licking his lips. “And she certainly looked good in a prench maid’s uniform.”
“Yes, well…” Blueblood squirmed, not quite comfortable with where this conversation was going. “I found her. Last night. On the street.”
“Oh, did you now?” Father shrugged, returning his attention to his paper.
“Yes, Father. She was… She was living on the street. I believe she was pregnant as well. And she, she looked unwell. She asked me for help…”
“And what did you tell her?”
Blueblood lowered his head in shame. “I... I didn’t say anything. I just left.” He refused to meet his father’s eyes, until he suddenly felt a hoof on his shoulder.
“Well then, good show son.” His father smiled down on him.
“Wha... What?” Blueblood’s ears perked up, his expression full of confusion and disbelief.
“Ah, I suppose you're old enough boy. It's time I explain the facts of life to you.”
And explain he did.
He explained about the power and authority carried by the name Blueblood.
He explained about the proper role of servants. And their duty to provide for their master's needs. All of their needs.
He explained that his mother, of course, knew all about this. She had her pool boys after all, while Father had his nannies and maids.
And he explained that if a servant found herself in an… uncomfortable condition, it was her own fault. And a potential embarrassment to the Blueblood name. So it was only appropriate that they be sent on their way for their indiscretions.
And he explained all of this happily and cheerfully. There was no shame, or embarrassment. He was simply laying out the facts of life to his heir and successor.
In his mind he was, if anything, bonding with his son.
Throughout it all, Blueblood just listened and nodded, quiet and wide eyed. And when his father was finished, and had returned to his paper, Blueblood excused himself from his presence and quietly left the room.
As soon as he was out of sight, he was running out the door.
Blueblood stared out the window of his carriage, listening to the sound of his chauffeur’s wing beats and the whistle of the wind as they tore through the air. As they rose higher and higher above Blueblood Manor, more and more of Canterlot’s stunning vista came into view.
And as more and more of it came into view, more and more cracks became visible in its immaculate facade. At least to the eye of one who knew what to look for.
And by now, Blueblood knew exactly what to look for.
Gazing through the glass at the maze of thoroughfares, streets, avenues, and alleys that made up the capital, he used the tip of his hoof to trace a path. A path between his manor house, and one of the more downtrodden areas of Canterlot.
A path he remembered clear as day, despite only having traveled it twice in his life.
Blueblood ran. He ran as fast as his gangly legs could carry him. He rounded corners at a full gallop, took shortcuts trough dirty alleyways, left a trail of irritated pedestrians in his wake, along with his dignity. He never failed or faltered, never lost his way. Blueblood had always had a sense of his place in the world, both physically and spiritually.
Though the latter had begun taking some harsh blows as of late.
Finally, panting for breath, he skidded to a stop as he arrived at the street leading to the alleyway he’d discovered last night. The snow and ice he stood in froze his hooves. But it was the sight before him that froze his heart.
In front of the alley stood four ponies and a large cart. Two of the ponies wore the golden armor of the guard. The other two wore the frocks of the medical profession. The cart was emblazoned with a large red cross.
The two the medics were carting a stretcher covered with a white sheet towards the awaiting ambulance. There was no urgency in their motions. No rush. The figure under the white cloth was silent and still. The guards were shaking their heads sadly.
Nopony noticed the young Blueblood standing a few dozen hooves away. His white coat blended into the snow, like he wasn’t even there.
Throughout his short life Blueblood had grown up wanting for nothing. Except love. That was a commodity his parents only seemed to lavish upon themselves. Ever since he was a child, before he'd consciously understood what was missing from his family, what he'd wanted more than anything was a little brother or sister. Someone who he could love, and who would love him back.
He didn't even realize he had sat down in the snow and ice. It was warm, compared to the feeling of ice in his soul as he watched four dispassionate ponies cart away the mortal remains of Feather Duster. And the unborn colt or filly that could have been his beloved sibling.
This was… this was wrong. This was not how things were meant to be. How could his father, how could anypony just... abandon their family like this? Abandon and discard their own flesh and blood like this?
This was wrong.
Lost in the spectacle of the ambulance rolling away, Blueblood barely noticed the flare of light upon his flank.
When he returned home that afternoon, he told his sire and dam that he earned the compass rose emblazoned on his fur by navigating his way across the streets and alleys of Canterlot.
His Cutecentina was, of course, the social event of the year. And if Prince Blueblood seemed a bit cold and distant, well, that just meant he was growing up properly, and realizing the gravity and gravitas of his position. A Blueblood was expected to demonstrate a certain amount of poise and aloofness. Even amongst their own family.
His parents were, if anything, proud.
Blueblood grunted in discomfort as he was bounced and jostled as the carriage set down.
It was no fault of his pegasi chauffeurs of course. The rough landing was simply an unavoidable consequence of landing on such a rough, rural road. There really was no avoiding it. Ponyville itself was rather lacking in paved roads, let alone its outer environs. And Blueblood had no intention of making a spectacle of his arrival by landing in the town center.
“We've arrived, your Highness.” Evening Breeze formally informed him as she opened the door to the carriage. Blueblood gave her an easy smile, as he stepped out.
“So I had noticed. And none of that 'your Highness' stuff out here, my dear. I am incognito after all.”
“Ah. Of course Sir.” The pegasus mare glanced around in confusion seeing, well, not much of anything but fields and trees in the vicinity. “Are you certain this is where you wish to be let off, your… um Pri… That is...” She trailed off uncertainly.
“Bluey is just fine for the moment, Miss Breeze. And yes, I'm right where I need to be.” With a smile he pulled a set of simple, common saddle bags over his flanks, and turned away from the carriage.
“You and Leaf Darter are free for the rest of the afternoon. I should be back in four or five hours. Until then, keep a low profile an enjoy yourselves!” The Prince called back as he started off down the road at a steady pace.
“But your high… Bluey! Where are you going?” Evening Breeze shouted after the departing stallion.
“To take care of something that needs to be done!”
Blueblood closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the soft sobbing coming from the room next door. It wasn’t easy. This wasn’t something he wanted to do. But it was something he needed to do. More importantly, it was the right thing to do.
The young stallion turned and glanced back at his cutey mark. He’d had it for nearly a year now, and nopony had questioned his explanation as to its origins. Everyone believed it was a symbol of his skill with directions and maps. And it was true that he possessed that talent.
But to Blueblood, it would always represent something more spiritual. His moral compass. And the ability to know right from wrong.
Now if only knowing the right path made it easier to follow.
With one last deep breath, the young prince pushed the door to the servant’s quarters open.
“Miss Serving Platter?” He asked carefully as he walked towards the pretty young earth pony maid. She was sitting on the floor, her face buried in the comforter on her bed, hiding her tears and muffling her sobs. Beside her lay small suitcase, half packed with her few worldly possessions.
“Miss Serving Platter?” Blueblood repeated, lightly tapping the mare on her shoulder to get her attention.
She finally responded, turning to face him. Even with tears running down her cheeks she was beautiful. Young and shapely, just the way his sire liked his servants. The bulge of her belly was barely noticeable, but it would grow larger and larger in the coming months, Blueblood knew.
“Y… Yes young master?” She asked with a sniffle, a hoof trying to wipe away the tears.
“I’m not your master any longer, Miss Tray. I heard what my father did.” It was impossible to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
The maid… former maid mistook the target of the young Lord’s ire, her eyes once again filling with tears. Blueblood's ears plastered against his head as he realized his mistake. Gently patting her foreleg, he tried to calm her down.
“It will be all right. It will be all right.” He murmured while igniting his horn.
A small bag floated up behind him, along with a sheet of paper. The bag jingled and jangled with the sound of coins.
“Here. Take this. It’s not much, but it should help you get back on your hooves. The letter lists ways to contact me. If you are in trouble, if you need help, or some bits…” He sighed heavily. “My allowance is not that large, but I shall do what I can.”
Serving Tray just stared at him in confusion. Blueblood levitated the bag and letter closer to her.
“Do you understand, miss Serving Tray?” He insisted. “If you’re in trouble, or in danger, write to me? Do you understand?” His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to keep the fear and desperation out of his voice.
The mare made no move to take his gifts. She just stared at him for a few moments before speaking a single word.
“W... why?”
“Because. Because it’s the right thing to do. Because you deserve better than this. Because my little brother or sister you’re carrying deserves better than this.” It wasn’t easy to meet her eyes, but Blueblood forced himself to do so. Forced himself to fill each word with certainty and determination.
There was a moment of silence. And then Blueblood found himself with his forelegs full of crying earth pony.
“Oh, Celestia bless you young Lord. Celestia bless you.” She sobbed into his mane, hugging him tightly.
After a moment, Blueblood patted the crying mare on the back, trying to hide his discomfort. He was, after all, a teenaged stallion, being hugged by a very attractive mare. The situation caused certain… stirrings within him.
Feelings he stamped down harshly.
He wasn't his sire. He'd never be his sire.
Never.
Blueblood whistled a jaunty tune to himself as he traveled down the dusty road. His pure white fur was already picking up hints of dirty brown. Prince Blueblood would have thrown a fit over such conditions. But for Bluey, a bit of dirt just added an air of authenticity.
His destination was one of the small parks on the edge of Ponyville proper. And since he had plenty of time before his arrival was expected, he took his time to enjoy the view as he traveled. It was a very pastoral scene, made of rolling hills and green meadows, dotted with the occasional farmstead.
Along one such stretch of road, he passed a small fenced in area dotted with aged and weathered headstones. A family graveyard for the local farm. The small patch of land was attended to, but clearly not as often as its occupants might have wished.
Most of the stones were old and faded to the point of illegibility, with only a hoofull of headstones appearing to be anything near recent vintage. A fortuitous set of circumstances in Blueblood's opinion.
Blueblood lingered for a few moments, then turned away to continue along the path.
It should have been raining.
At least in Blueblood’s opinion it should have been. But nopony had asked him when they scheduled the weather. And besides, the nobility could hardly have been expected to stand around eulogizing in the rain, could they?
And so Prince Blueblood, Head of the House of Blueblood, stood before the two churned up plots of earth while a bright cheery sun shone down upon his back. Around him birds cavorted and played, and in the distance he could head the hustle and bustle of Canterlot conducting business as usual.
The funeral had ended hours ago.
Blueblood just stared at the headstones, as if they could give him answers. But all the stones said was what had been etched upon their surface. He’d had a say in that at least. He’d insisted that the traditional ‘beloved husband and father’ be changed to ‘well-loved.’ Because if his sire had been anything, it had been ‘well-loved.’
He’d left the traditional ‘obedient wife' as it stood.
His parents were gone. Lost to a tragic carriage accident.
And he had no idea how he felt about it.
He'd spent years distancing himself from his sire and dam. Acting cool and aloof in their presence. Attending to social events and charities of his own choosing rather than theirs. Passively aggressively snubbing them when he couldn't work up the courage to call them out directly on their despicable behavior.
It had taken him some time to realize that they never really noticed.
And now they were gone. And their loss left a tangled ball of emotions sitting in his stomach, like a lead weight. Now there was no one to answer his questions. Did his parents ever love each other? Or any pony besides themselves? Were all Bluebloods just like his father? Did the line of Blueblood have a thousand branches that had been pruned off and hidden over the centuries?
Would he grow up to be just like his sire?
Not that he believed he would have gotten answers to those questions even if his parents were still alive. But it had just been so sudden. And now he'd never get a chance to bawl his sire and dam out for their behavior. And that ball of resentment and frustration would remain with him for the rest of his days.
In any case, he was glad that the funeral itself was over. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd have been able to keep up his emotional mask while every last member of the upper crust and their hangers on offered their sympathies and condolences to 'Prince Blueblood, The Last of the Blueblood Line.' He suspected a hooffull of them may have even been sincere. Well, Princess Celestia at least.
He’d heard them muttering and whispering behind his back. Commenting on what a shock it must have been. And how stoically the young stallion was taking their loss. Proper aristocratic breeding showing, they all suspected. Why, he never shed a tear. Just watched with quiet dignity as his parents were interred.
It was rather ironic really. He'd gained a reputation for being aloof and elitist because he refrained from engaging in the pointless frivolities that the rest of the younger nobility embarked upon. Airship racing and polo tournaments and other such social activities. Everypony believed he was displaying a proper understanding of his lofty position, as was appropriate for a Blueblood.
In truth, he simply didn't have the money to engage in such activities. Not when most of his allowance was going to the far worthier cause of keeping his (many) abandoned blood relations off the streets.
Of course, he'd heard other things as well. Heard his so called 'peers' discussing his wealth, his power. How the entire family line of Blueblood now rested upon his shoulders. And how they just must introduce him to their daughters…
Blueblood shuddered at the thought.
He was almost nineteen now. And he’d never laid with a mare. Despite more than ample opportunities. He didn’t dare. Not with the legacy of his sire hanging over his head.
After all, blood runs true, doesn’t it? What if engaging in such acts awoke within him the same… appetites… that had so consumed his sire? Would he be able to resist temptation? Or would he follow in his footsteps? Married to some ‘obedient’ wife who would churn out an heir, then turn a blind eye to his deprivations, so long as she was allowed to engage in her own?
No. No, he would do no such thing. He refused to be anything like his sire, or engage in a cold, loveless marriage like his dam.
So what if he had suddenly become the most eligible bachelor in all of Equestria? He'd simply have to find some way to convince his would be paramours to leave him alone.
Blueblood smiled as he finally reached his destination. The park was small and simple. A few dozen picnic benches. A sandbox. Some swings. And all of them currently adorned with balloons and streamers and, in one case, a large banner.
'Happy Birthday Dinky!' was written in large, crude, but clearly heartfelt letters.
And the foals. He could hardly forget the foals. They were all over the place, running and jumping and playing and shouting. The party was clearly already in full swing when he arrived.
His arrival didn't go unnoticed for long. No sooner had he stepped into the clearing than a small gray projectile struck him, clinging to his leg.
“Uncle Bluey!” Dinky Do giggled and hugged his foreleg tightly. “You made it!”
“Of course I made it! Did you really think I'd miss your eighth birthday?” He asked pompously. “You're only eight once you know!”
With a smile he leaned down to nuzzle the filly, while using his free hoof to remove a wrapped parcel from his saddle bags.
“Happy Birthday Dinky!”
Prince Blueblood wasn't sure how long he remained in front of the graves of his sire and dam. But he was eventually shaken from her reverie by the sound of approaching hoofsteps.
“Master Blueblood?” Silent Steward, his father's… no, his valet spoke softly.
Blueblood had a difficult relationship with the older valet. On the one hand, he despised his father's actions, and he despised Steward's role in them. Covering up the indirections. Firing the servants if they became 'inconvenient.' Keeping the manor running normally, despite all the abnormal, or at least immoral things his father was doing.
He wanted to hate the stallion for all of that.
But despite all that, he couldn't find it in himself to hate the older stallion. Silent was the executor of his master's will, no more and no less. He was everything a valet should be. Skilled, knowledgeable, and discrete. And he held no more love for the actions of his sire than Blueblood himself did.
Over the years, he'd been invaluable in assisting the young master in locating and assisting his half brothers and sisters behind his parents' backs.
Not that they ever paid much attention to Blueblood's activities in the first place. So long as they didn't damage the good name of the Blueblood line.
“Master Blueblood?” Silent Steward asked once more, taking a step closer.
Blueblood blinked and looked up at his valet. Then he nodded, having come to a decision.
“I know what we're going to do, Silent.”
“Sir?”
“We're going to find them. All of them.”
“And then sir?”
“And then, we're going to make sure they're happy.” He paused, then nodded to himself. “Because that's what family does.”
The party was in full swing, and the colts and fillies were running around like… well, like colts and fillies hyper on sugar and sweets. Rarity smiled fondly as she watched Sweetie Belle playing tag with the other girls, before turning back to continue her conversation with Derpy.
“And who might that handsome fellow be, Derpy?” Rarity asked with a giggle, gesturing at the fine figure of stallion-hood that was currently tossing Dinky in the air and catching her.
“Oh, that’s Uncle Bluey.” Derpy replied cheerfully as struggled to set the candles straight on her daughter's cake.
“Uncle Bluey?”
“Oh, he’s not really Dinky’s uncle. But he always asks us to call him that.” Derpy glanced in their direction (or at least Rarity thought she did.) “It always makes him happy when we call him that.”
“So who is he really then?”
“Apparently he was a friend of White Wing.” Depy’s smile faltered at the mention of her late husband. “I don’t remember Whitey ever mentioning him, but he showed up a few months after his accident.”
“I’m sorry to bring up unpleasant memories dear.”
“Oh, there’s no need to apologize Rarity. I like remembering my time with Whitey. There are a lot of happy memories there.” She smiled in nostalgia before turning more serious. “But the times right after he passed on were... tough. Dinky was on the way, and Whitey and I had never been what you’d call rich. And not many ponies wanted to hire a cross-eyed Pegasus, let alone a pregnant one…”
Rarity placed a hoof on her shoulder, pulling her from the darker memories.
”Anyway, things were pretty tough when Bluey showed up. Apparently he was looking for Whitey, and hadn’t heard about the… accident. He was heartbroken when he heard that he was too late.” Derpy wiped a tear away. “Apparently Whitey was a friend of his family that they’d lost touch with.”
“When he saw our situation, he insisted on chipping in to help. Said it was the least he could do since he was too late for Whitey. He still refuses to let me pay him back too. He’s the one who suggested I move here to ponyville, you know? And he helped me get my job with the postal service.” She smiled at the memory. “We don’t see him often, but he always tries to make it for Dinky’s birthday. He really dotes on her.” She giggled and smiled.
“Well, I simply must meet such a generous stallion.” Rarity tossed her head, sending her purple tresses bouncing. With one last check to make sure her mane and tail were in perfect condition (they were) she began trotting in the direction of this mysterious stallion.
“Leaf Darter?”
“Yeah, that's my name. What can I do for you?”
“I hear that you're looking for work. And that you've got a strong set of wings.”
“Both of those are true. So what are you offering?”
“A staff position at Blueblood Manor. Room and board for yourself and your family, a healthy salary, retirement fund, and tuition reimbursement for yourself and your family.”
“Wha.. What? That's a hell of an offer! And not the sort of offer an out of work guard dropout gets offered. What's the catch?”
“No catch. My employer simply believes you'll fit in well at the Manor...”
Rarity smiled as she approached Derpy's mysterious benefactor, giving her mane a gentle pat to make sure it was sitting just so. The stallion in question was facing away from her, setting a ggigling Dinky back on the ground.
“Yoo-hoo! 'Uncle' Bluey is it? It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is...” Rarity trailed off in shock as the stallion turned to face her. Dyed mane or no, hidden horn or no, covered cutie mark or no, that was a face that Rarity would not be forgetting anytime soon.
“Prince Bluebl...” She began, only to be cut off as her mouth was pressed shut by a light blue glow.
“Dinky, why don't you run along and see your mommy, alright? I think it's about time to cut the cake!”
“Okay Uncle Bluey!” Dinky gave his foreleg another tight hug, before running back towards the picnic tables. As soon as she was gone, Blueblood turned towards the fashionista.
Rarity glared daggers at the Prince, her own horn beginning to glow as she prepared to break Blueblood's hold on her jaw.
The prince glared right back.
“Not a word. I will not have you ruining my niece’s birthday party. Do you understand?”
Rarity blinked in surprise as her jaw was released. Not because of Blueblood's actions, but his words.
“Your niece?”
“Horseapples!”
“So you'll pay my tuition to beautician school and give me a job when I'm finished?”
“That's correct Miss Dye.”
“But, why? Why me?”
“Prince Blueblood insists on only the best working at the manor. He treats his staff like family. And he wants you to be part of that family.”
Rarity glanced back at the ongoing party through the thin screen of trees she and 'Uncle Bluey' had stepped behind. Then she turned her head to glare at said stallion, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
“So, you are Dinky's uncle?”
“Half uncle, but yes, I am.” Blueblood replied just as coldly. “And you will not share that fact with them, or anypony else.”
Rarity snorted in response. “Why not? Are you embarrassed?” She sniped.
“Of Dinky? Never!” Came the instant, vehement response.” She's a beautiful, wonderful filly!”
Rarity's ears drooped in surprise at the clear love and pride in his voice. But she quickly rallied, narrowing her eyes once again.
“Well, if you truly feel that way about her, then you should tell them the truth.” She lifted her nose in the air, her tone of voice clearly conveyed her suspicions about how much the Prince truly cared.
“I can't.” Came the flat reply.
“Hmph! You mean you don't want to. If you truly...”
“I can't.” Blueblood turned away, his voice filled with longing and desperation.
“Of course you can, darling! And you would, if you truly cared…” A sudden burst of magic tugged Rarity's chin, turning her head so that she was staring Blueblood right in the eye.
“I can't!” He growled.
“Look at them. LOOK!” He commanded, gesturing in the direction of the party, where a smiling Derpy was helping a giggling Dinky cut her birthday cake. “They're happy.”
“Look at them.” He repeated, his voice lower, but no less commanding. “I can explain everything to them. Is that what you want? Do you want me to explain to Dinky that the reason she never got to meet her daddy is because his daddy was a heartless monster with unhealthy appetites? That he discarded White Wing's mother like a used tissue, and saw to it that she'd never be able to work in Canterlot again?” His voice remained low, but with each word it grew more intense.
“Is that what you want me to tell them? That Dinky's father, Derpy's husband, my brother died taming a dangerous storm because he was trying to make a few extra bits to take care of them? Because I was too slow and too stupid to find him before he got himself killed? Because my sire left them poor and destitute, and I was too damned late to help?” He seemed to deflate, the focus and anger draining out of him.
“Will that make them happy?” He asked finally.
“I… I suppose I see your point, your Highness.” Rarity murmured, clearly taken aback.
“Good.” Blueblood turned his back to her, preparing to make his way back towards the party. But Rarity couldn't resist one final question.
“None of that explains the way you treated myself at the Grand Galloping Gala. Or, indeed, all of the mares you encounter.”
Blueblood paused, tilting his head in consideration, though not turning to look back.
“I can explain that as well. It's quite simple really.”
“Oh?” Rarity raise an eyebrow, though he knew Blueblood could not see her do so.
“Yes. You all remind me of my mother.”
'Uncle Bluey' began to calmly walk towards the party once more, never looking back as he spoke.
“And I will never be my father.”
The sound of the bottle smashing against canvas was like music to Blueblood's ears.
“I hated you with a fiery passion, you worthless sack of horseapples!” Another bottle sailed through the air, smashing against the bottom of the picture frame this time. The Prince's aim was usually better than that, but he was fairly deep into his cups this evening.
Still, he'd had plenty of practice aiming while drunk over the years.
“I can't believe I'm related to such an honorless bastard of a pony!” He slurred as his magic encased another bottle, this one half full, and flung it at the painting that hung over the Foyer's main entrance.
This bottle shattered as well, spraying cider all over the image. It did not, however, leave a single scratch or stain. This was no real surprise however.
Blueblood had had his sire's portrait enchanted with the finest protection and preservation charms available.
It was all that he had left of his sire to vent his anger against. And as such, he wanted it to last for a long, long, long time.
“You could have resisted your base urges, but no! You had to sate your desires, didn't you, you useless bastard!”
“You could have saved him! You could have saved them all!”
Outside the door, Silent Steward maintained his lonely vigil, well into the night.
Author's Note
Wow! Featured its first day out of the gate! Unexpected and awesome! 
Less awesome is the sudden discovery that I somehow published an earlier copy of the story which lacked a few minor tweaks and extra sentences... And a bunch of spelling, grammar, and typo corrections. 
And since this has already been released, and so very well received, it seems unwise to add those few extra paragraphs at this late date...
On the plus side, docontra was kind enough to send me a very thorough list of edits and corrections, which I have since implemented. Even though I had already fixed most of them earlier. Well, okay, half of them. And by half I mean maybe a quarter. Okay, closer to ten percent... 
Anyway, docontra is the reason why future readers will be less likely to have their eyeballs melt trying to read through all of the typos, so be sure to offer your thanks! 
