Betraying Tempest

by ChibiRenamon

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Drama, Tempest Shadow, Comedy, Prince Blueblood, My Little Pony: The Movie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 27625

Prince Blueblood is convinced that Tempest Shadow is up to something, but getting her to confess will require drastic measures... involving flowers and candlelight dinners...?

Prince Blueblood is absolutely convinced that Tempest Shadow has lied to Princess Celestia and that she is still plotting to conquer Canterlot. Now it's up to him to stop her.

Unfortunately, he is (a) dead wrong, (b) not a fan of comic books, and (c) not trained in espionage, counter-intelligence, special operations or anything else that would be useful in such a situation. But he does know which flowers go well with her coat and what restaurant can offer the best candlelight dinner opportunities, so... that's... a start...?

Prince Blueblood / Tempest Shadow, because I love my random and obscure shipping constellations these are two very different, very fascinating characters who can probably learn a lot from each other. (Also maybe some Capper/Celaeno on the sidelines later on?)

Content warning is again on the "better safe than sorry" side: there is no suicide, and the only reference to self-harm will be when some of Tempest's scars are discussed.
Took out the warning label for the time being. If I or others feel now or at a later time that it should go in again, it'll go in then. Thanks to the commenters so far for the feedback on when to include it!
Also a mild spoiler warning since this takes place shortly after The Movie.

Cover art (and thus early hype-generation for this fic) done by the amazing Earthsong9405 (Tumblr, DeviantArt).

(Featured Box on March 4, 2018? :pinkiegasp: Thank you all!)

Published 2018-03-03 16:30:07 UTC
Last updated 2021-04-10 21:04:36 UTC

Sun-polishing duties

Soarin had always been a stallion who spoke his mind. It was what Spitfire liked about him. Or at least she liked it when he wasn’t badmouthing their cushy job within probable earshot of ponies who occasionally chatted with Princess Celestia.

“Look,” he said, sounding mildly annoyed about her attitude towards said badmouthing, “all I’m saying is that this isn’t what we signed up for, right?”

“We’re the elite fliers of Canterlot, handling the aerial tasks with the highest priority in the kingdom,” she diplomatically recited their job description. Please just agree to disagree, she thought, please just agree to disagree, please-

“Oh, please.” He snorted, pointedly ignoring her exasperated sigh. “Just look at this Friendliness Festival.”

“Friendship Festival,” Spitfire corrected him automatically. She had accepted long ago that his mouth tended to move too fast for his memory or sometimes even his entire brain to keep up.

“Right,” he said without missing a beat. “What did we do there? Clear the sky! Weather control! For the kid princess and her buddies from Armageddonville! It’s an insult!”

Oh for the love of all that is holy, are you trying to get us kicked out of the Wonderbolts? “Princess Twilight Sparkle saves Equestria with depressing regulari-”

“Weather control!” Soarin snapped, obviously homing in on his biggest gripe of the afternoon. “And just look at our amazing duty now!”

“We are protecting Princess Celestia, her guests and all of the other inhabitants of the castle in ca-”

“It’s a suicide watch.”

Spitfire froze. “...pardon me?”

“Wait. Did you actually not realize this before?” Soarin gave her a look of disbelief. “You didn’t ask yourself why we were stationed right above Edgy McBrokenhorn’s room? If she loses it and jumps, we swoop in to catch her.”

“Soarin, please. Mocking her injury is a line even you with your big mouth shouldn’t cross. And the same goes for implying that she is suicidal just because she...” Spitfire gestured vaguely.

“Just because she prolly can’t get her horn fixed and is without purpose now that she is out of the ‘evil henchpony’ business since her old boss is dead? Yeah, whatever made me think that-”

“These rooms may be comfortable, but they’re not soundproof, you know?” Tempest Shadow, former Commander of the Storm King’s armies, snapped from the window right below them with a ferocity that made Soarin jump.

Oh goody, we forgot to check whether her windows were open. Spitfire groaned. No, wait, this is not your fault. It’s Soarin’s fault. Let him deal with this mess. That’s a good idea, why didn’t you get it sooner?

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” Soarin said loudly even though Tempest obviously had had little trouble hearing him before, “we’ll be quiet while you research who you need to screw over this time in the hopes of getting your stupid horn back.”

OH RIGHT, BECAUSE LETTING SOARIN DEAL WITH ANYTHING IS A STUPID IDEA! Spitfire cringed. Tempest Shadow was not the most trusted pony in Equestria, but Princess Twilight had vouched for her, and Princess Celestia herself had issued a full pardon. And while nopony intended to forget Tempest’s recent history, everypony had agreed to welcome her back to Equestria. Well, everypony aside from Soarin, obviously. “What the hay!?” she hissed, but Soarin looked unrepentant.

“Oh, whatever. She tried to turn all four princesses to stone and let her unhinged master take over the entire world just to get her magic back.” He huffed angrily. “She’d kill me without a second thought if she thought it’d bring her closer to her recovery.”

Much to her credit, the recently-reformed unicorn opted not to lash out with her unstable magic. “You’re wrong,” Tempest finally said, and they heard her stomping away from the window. “I’d kill you for much less than that.”

Spitfire sighed deeply. She’ll have to hurry up - at this rate, I’ll be the one to kill him. Of course, she knew that this was just a silly fantasy. After all, he’s not entirely wrong, is he? Royal pardon or not, Tempest Shadow invaded Canterlot, turned three princesses to stone and hunted the last one all across the world, all just because the Storm King promised to heal her. What would happen if she one day read somewhere that, say, drinking alicorn blood would cure her? Still, that’s more of an immediate problem for Princess Celestia and not us, so this was really ugly and unnecessary. “What a mess,” she muttered. “We’ll need a miracle if we don’t want to flip hayburgers for the next thirty years.”

“You won’t,” Soarin whispered, looking as if the realization of what he had done had just hit him, too. “If anypony asks, I’ll shoulder the blame. I wouldn’t even be lying.”

“You’re not going to-” Spitfire started, but stopped talking when she heard the voice of the one pony who tended to speak his mind in a more blunt fashion than even Soarin.

“Oh, EWWW! Is that horn-... GROSS!”

Spitfire paled under her coat. “Oh no, not him...”

“How DARE you insult my eyes with this... this... DEFORMITY!?”

“Is that-” Soarin started to ask, but stopped when he heard the characteristic sound of a hoof hitting a face at full speed.

Welcome home, Prince Blueblood. How was your vacation? Why yes, you missed a few new developments around here.

“CORRIDOR WINDOW!” Spitfire frantically signaled for him to move across the roof. The noise had come from the corridor connecting the various VIP suites, and there were windows there that Soarin could use to quickly get to the scene. She watched him take off, but didn’t follow. Instead, she dropped straight down and barreled through the open window in order to get to the corridor through Tempest’s room. Let’s flank her. Always smarter than coming from just one direction.

She was halfway through the room when a pony came crashing straight through the door. The white-coated unicorn groaned in pain, but had the common sense to get back to his hooves as quickly as possible. “HELP ME!” Prince Blueblood screamed when he saw her.

She did so by pushing him out of the way when his assailant came in behind him. This is so going to appear in Princess Celestia’s daily briefing...

Tempest had done something rather bad. She knew that. She was not some sort of mentally ill pony who told herself that it was fine to kick other ponies through doors. Not that that had ever stopped her from doing just that in the past, but Tempest was supposed to be one of Good Guys now, and she was reasonably sure that excessive violence was not on their list of acceptable actions. Bad enough that you punched him. Sure, he was a jerk, and yeah, your horn is a touchy subject, and YES, HE WAS A JERK, but this wasn’t entirely just about him. It was also the idiot on the roof. He egged you on. And then that other idiot comes along and is a jerk, and... She sighed. Bottom line, you shouldn’t have punched him. And you definitely shouldn’t have kicked- She froze when she realized that the idiot was not the only one in the room aside from her.

Intruder.

Her instincts kicked in before she could even remind herself that she wanted to stop escalating things.

Somebody broke into your room.

“HELP ME!” the unicorn she had kicked through the door screamed at the pegasus intruder, only to be shoved aside.

THERE IS SOMEBODY IN YOUR ROOM.

Her pulse was racing, and she could feel the muscles in her legs tensing. Tempest had never been a pony with many possessions, but during her time serving the Storm King, she had kept a few personal items in her room. Things she picked up here and there. Little treasures. Mementos. At least she had kept them until somebody had stolen them. Had broken into her room. Had stolen from her room. Had taunted her. Mocked her. Laughed.

SOMEBODY is TRYING to STEAL from YOU and THROW everything OVERBOARD.

She was trembling. The room slowly fell away, her vision focusing solely on the pony who obviously wanted to do to her what some of the Storm King’s dumber minions had done years ago.

Again and again.

Until one day, she had made them stop.

Until one day, she had hurt those who had hurt her.

Until one day, she had made an example of one of them.

ENd thEm kILL theM bReAk EVeRy bOnE thEY hAve.

Nobody had ever been stupid enough to break into her room again.

Until today.

“Stand down, or-” The Wonderbolt’s words were cut off when Tempest’s right hind leg caught her squarely in the chest after a quick somersault with an added spin to face the other way.

Time seemed to slow down as the pegasus was falling backwards, towards one of the closed windows. Tempest did not think of herself as a cruel pony, but she couldn’t deny that watching her crash through the window filled her with an almost perverse joy. “Die,” she whispered, allowing her magic to gather around the jagged stump of her horn.

“NO!”

It was the unicorn. The one who had insulted her. The one she had punched and tossed through her door. She had forgotten about him - he was obviously some spoiled moron, as far away from being a threat as she was from being worthy of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s friendship - but now he was coming in fast. No matter, he’s weak. He won’t sway my aim. Let him watch. Her focus was disrupted when something suddenly covered her head. “WHAT!?” She reared, startled by the sudden darkness caused by- A blanket? He threw a BLANKET over my head? She snorted angrily as he actually started tugging at the fabric, as if trying to steer her away from wherever her victim was by now. “Seriously? SERIOUSLY?” Her magic was manifesting in the form of large sparks bursting out of the remains of her horn. Fine! Two burials then! Not my problem! Might as well go out with a bang!

She was about to incinerate the other unicorn when it hit her that there was still one pegasus unaccounted for.

And then the pegasus himself hit her.

The second Wonderbolt tackled her with a frantic scream, knocking the wind out of her. She felt that she was being moved but couldn’t see where she was going- Stupid blanket! - and then she was falling.

And falling.

And.

Falling.

Oh.

Her brain ran the numbers even as she finally managed to remove the cursed blanket. Her suite was right under the roof, which meant that she was now a little less than eighteen floors above beautiful, but also very hard pavement.

Oh, this is going to suck.

She had been in a similar scenario once, after one of the Storm King’s minions had “accidentally” knocked her off her airship shortly after lift-off. Her starting height had been lower, and the ground had been a lot softer than the solid pavement that was rapidly approaching her, but even after cushioning the fall by blasting at the ground with her magic, she had broken three legs in the process. (She had refrained from “accidentally” knocking said minion off the ship afterwards, but he had spent the rest of the trip tied up and dangling from a rope under the hull.)

Oh, this is going to suck so hard.

There was only one thing that made her smile, even as she was falling to her death.

“OH MY GOODNESS WHAT IN AUNTIE’S NAME IS HAPPENING THIS ISN’T WHAT I HAD IN MIND!”

That stupid unicorn had failed to let go of the blanket and was now falling next to her.

Spitfire had known that she had screwed up when Tempest Shadow’s glare had gone from angry to downright murderous after noticing her presence in the room. She wasn’t exactly sure what she had done to aggravate the former henchpony, but there was no denying that her mere presence had likely escalated the situation. And then the unicorn had kicked her straight out of the room. Somehow. Again, the details were not entirely clear, but she did know one thing: Wow, she hits like a freight train. She caught herself several floors away from where she had started out, flapping her wings rapidly to gain height.

Just as she was nearing the roof again, everypony else had apparently decided to meet her half-way: Soarin came out through one of the open windows, and he was tackling Tempest Shadow, who somehow had managed to get her head stuck under a blanket.

And Prince Blueblood was somehow holding on to the other end of the blanket.

Oh, Soarin... why must you make my life so complicated?

She watched as Tempest, now in free fall after Soarin let go of her, untangled herself from the blanket. Even from this distance, Spitfire could tell that the former invader was coolly calculating her odds of surviving the landing. (She could also tell that the odds were more or less zero.) Prince Blueblood was less cool about the sudden change in scenery: “OH MY GOODNESS WHAT IN AUNTIE’S NAME IS HAPPENING THIS ISN’T WHAT I HAD IN MIND!”

I’m going to be flipping hayburgers for the rest of my life. She cursed under her breath. “SOARIN!”

“YEAH, YEAH, I GOT HIM!” the source of all her troubles shouted and approached the two falling unicorns from high above. His vertical roll was part of the regular Wonderbolts repertoire - even if it was usually not performed while moving towards the ground - and allowed him to snatch the falling prince while elegantly avoiding the potential threat next to him. “OKAY, GO!”

Spitfire smirked. Yes, it was her job to avoid Tempest from creating Canterlot’s most celebrated crater, but she did not recall any orders to be gentle about it, especially not while she was still riding an adrenaline high. Hey, you wanna know who else can hit like a freight train? She flew in a quick horizontal loop, gathering momentum while Tempest was approaching her altitude. At the right moment, Spitfire accelerated further, flying in a straight line and ramming her front hooves into the unicorn’s left side, breaking her fall by shoving her straight towards and then against the palace wall. A quick glance down told her that her aim had been perfect - there was a large balcony two floors below, and Tempest crashed straight onto it.

Okay, let’s call in the medics to take care of this mess. Now that she’s out cold, she should be safe to handle. She smiled to herself as a plan was starting to form in her head. Have some staff take care of the debris, make sure that none of the bystanders got seriously hurt by falling glass, quick photo op on the street with the poor, poor victims, reassure them that the obviously insane Tempest has been dealt with, and then-

Down on the balcony, Tempest slowly got back to her hooves. The pegasus frowned deeply - she wasn’t quite sure how the unicorn was still conscious, much less how she was able to stand right after such a fall, but it was obvious that Spitfire’s actions had not improved her mood. Again. Wild magic burst out of her horn, showering the balcony with bright sparks.

Okay, I know I’m fast and agile, but I really don’t think I can dodge lightning blasts...

However, before she could worry about whether she’d be able to rock the scarred as well as Tempest, the balcony doors behind the unicorn were flung open. Yes! Guards! Take care of-... She cursed under her breath when she saw whose balcony had doubled as the landing zone.

Tempest stopped channeling her magic, almost as if she could feel the aura of murderous rage coming from Princess Celestia. The unicorn turned around and immediately backpedaled when she saw the princess’s expression, which was beyond mad. Then, slowly, the ruler of the day directed her glare of death upwards until she was looking right at Spitfire. While Tempest practically crawled past her, Celestia used one of her wings to point first at Spitfire, then at the throne room she had just come out of.

Welcome to McHayburgers, what can I get you?

Minutes earlier, Princess Celestia mused that it had been a rough week, even by her high standards.

Canterlot had been seized by hostile forces, three out of four princesses had been turned to stone, the fourth had briefly been sucked into a tornado and, worst of all, Luna was about to mess up the calendar even more than it already was.

“You’re making that face again,” Luna calmly informed her and adjusted her reading glasses.

“What face?” Celestia asked and adjusted her own glasses in retaliation. True political drama always played out on multiple levels.

“The face where you narrate to yourself that restoring the proper equilibrium between daytime and nighttime is unreasonable.”

“You want three full cycles of night.” She pointed at the papers on the table between them. There were constellations, calendars and various graphs detailing everything from crop rotations to the next eighteen Hearth’s Warming Eve celebrations.

The younger princess shrugged. “I would call that reasonable after three cycles of daylight.”

It was a delicate subject, of course. Celestia knew better than to make references to the last time Luna had decided to make the night last significantly longer than usual. There is a time and a place for everything, she thought. And this is not it. Likewise, she knew that it would be silly to bring up the fact that it hadn’t been her choice to make the day last that long - Luna knew that it was hard to move celestial bodies while having been turned to stone, not that she seemed to care. “Look.” She sighed and took off her glasses, allowing Luna to claim victory in this aspect of the negotiations. “The ecosystem is already in turmoil and my mailbox is filling up with complaints about plants and wildlife having suffered. Even Fluttershy wrote a sternly worded letter!”

“So you are suggesting that we should just... forget about this?” Luna narrowed her eyes.

“No.” Celestia carefully held up a hoof. “Absolutely not. I suggest maintaining a day/night cycle, but with a slightly longer night for the next couple of weeks.” She leaned over the papers to bring her face closer to Luna’s. “Please, work with me here! The kingdom is a mess, Shining is mad at me for endangering his wife, and I have an avian pirate crew, a cat con artist, a hippogriff princess and half an army of Storm Creatures to entertain.”

“Actually,” Luna said after a short pause, “Princess Skystar left a couple of days ago, together with Twilight Sparkle and her friends, remember? They wanted to fully mend their relation with Queen Novo as well as each other.”

“Oh... right. Goodness, look at how badly I’m losing track of things already!”

“But Tempest Shadow and Grubber are here to make up for it.”

“Yes, yes. Those two. Great.” Celestia rolled her eyes. “Grubber at least is cooperating.” He seems perfectly happy with trying to prepare the Storm Creatures for whatever niche we find for them here in Equestria.

“I heard Miss Shadow is less... enthusiastic?”

A sigh. “She’s staying in her room most of the time. Occasionally sneaks out to grab food from the kitchen. It’s like having a stowaway in our VIP wing!” She started to roll up the various papers, taking Luna’s smalltalk as a sign that she had agreed to the compromise. “I don’t even want to know what she went through while serving the Storm King as part of a ruthless warrior army. It has probably been decades since she last lived among ponies. Imagine-” The faint sound of a shattering window made her freeze.

Celestia hadn’t seriously believed that Tempest might try to end her own life, but she had learned several centuries ago not to leave such things to chance. Now, even as she was turning around to look through one of the windows next to her currently vacant throne, she was praying that the two Wonderbolts currently on special guard duty were prepared to deal with this emergency. Although... I would have imagined her to at least open a window before jumping out of it...

She frowned lightly when she saw that the pony falling from the eighteenth floor was not Tempest, but in fact one of the Wonderbolts. It took her a split-second to recall the guard schedules to put a name next to the falling pegasus. Captain Spitfire? She paused. Actually, no, Soarin is currently Captain. Those two and their competitiveness! ...come to think of it, isn’t Soarin supposed to be the second Wonderbolt on duty? Where is he?

As if having waited for his cue, Soarin came into her field of view, and next to him, two ponies were in free fall: Tempest and- “BLUEBLOOD!”

Ruler over a nation with centuries of experience or not, the sight of her (very, very distant) nephew falling to his death shook her: she stumbled towards the balcony beyond the window, her wings moving in a highly uncoordinated fashion. Wasn’t he supposed to still be on vacation? What is he doing here? WHAT HAPPENED THERE? Behind her, Luna was barking orders, and Celestia could hear her guards scrambling all over the place. By the time she got close to the window, Soarin had expertly caught Blueblood and Spitfire moved to catch Tempest. Okay, calm down. Calm down. Blueblood’s safe. Calm down. No need to panic. Everypony is safe. Everypony acted professionally, and we can-

Spitfire slammed into Tempest with much more force than seemed necessary, and Celestia could hear the unicorn crashing into the wall a few floors above. Then, without much fanfare, Tempest’s body hit the balcony, and Celestia could hear her cursing quietly.

“Kibitz,” she heard herself saying, “be a dear and have our high-security cells cleaned up. I have a feeling that we will need at least one.”

“Sister, maybe I should handle this,” Luna suggested softly. “You seem a bit-...” She froze when Celestia turned to look at her. “Right, right,” she verbally backpedaled, smiling nervously, “never mind, my bad...”

She’s right, you know? a quiet voice at the back of her mind asked, but she shoved it aside.

Outside, Tempest was getting back to her hooves. Even in her anger, Celestia marveled at the unicorn’s strength and endurance. Then, sparks of raw, unfiltered magic showered the balcony as she apparently took aim at Spitfire with her broken horn, and the princess once again told herself that there was a time and place for everything.

She flung open the doors leading to the balcony, and the large unicorn paused visibly before even one word had been spoken. Celestia wasn’t sure if her anger could be felt like a physical force or if the adrenaline rush had sharpened Tempest’s senses. Either way, the shower of sparks stopped almost immediately, and she turned around. “Y-Your Majesty!?” All signs of hatred and anger were immediately replaced by fear and panic as she stumbled backwards.

Celestia gave her another glare for good measure before looking up at Spitfire, who was watching the scene with growing despair. “Get inside,” she instructed the unicorn and signaled the Wonderbolts to follow suit.

Twilight is barely out of the country, and ponies start shoving each other out of windows. Talk about friendship problems! Typical. Fine, we’ll do this my way. She huffed, making the already cowering Tempest twitch as she passed her.

It took them less than two minutes to sit down in a neat row in front of her throne: Soarin and Spitfire were sitting between Tempest and Blueblood, probably as a token effort at keeping the latter safe from the former. Luna was sitting on her own throne to her right, while Kibitz was on Celestia’s left, ready to take notes and supply her with information on the fly.

“I am so very, very disappointed in both of you,” she finally whispered, addressing the Wonderbolts. “I assigned you, the highest-ranking members of the elite flying team of Canterlot, to make sure that nopony would attempt anything regrettable... and then I find you two, the key figure of your assignment, and a Prince of Equestria, in a mid-air brawl!? Unless we’re about to get the mother of all twists once we establish a timeline, I believe it’s safe to say that you two are at least out of the First Wing.” She ignored the way the two Wonderbolts were trembling. Being demoted from the top of the pack to at least the second league was harsh, but the image of a member of her family nearly falling to his death was still haunting her.

“This was not a hard task! I don’t even want to know how you screwed it up! No, actually, I do! How did you manage to screw this up? I assigned you to that post just in case so you can make sure one pony doesn’t jump to her death, and there are suddenly almost TWO casualties?” She took a deep breath and shot Luna a quick glare, just in case her younger sister was getting any ideas about interfering again. “And Spitfire, I saw you engaging in an entirely unnecessary attack on Tempest in what I suppose should have been a rescue maneuver. I’m well aware that she is no saint and won’t pretend I know all the facts about whatever fight you had gotten into, but the Wonderbolts obviously need a lesson in kindness.” She paused as a crazy idea was somehow taking the fastest route straight to her mouth, and she put on a wide, fake smile. “Actually, that’s a great idea! I know a pegasus who specializes in kindness! She can lead the Wonderbolts while you two are busy scrubbing the halls of wherever you end up!” She used her magic to grab an empty scroll and a quill from behind her throne. “Dear Fluttershy,” she read the letter even as she was hastily writing it, “I have the most wonderful of news. Starting immediately, you will be the new Captain of the First Wing of the Wonderbolts. Please report to your new post tomorrow.”

Kibitz coughed quietly. “Young Miss Fluttershy is out of the country at the moment.”

“FINE!” She scratched out the last word. “Please report to your new post once you return from your current trip. Signed, Princess Celestia.” She rolled up the scroll and sent it to Spike with a spark of magic, assuming that Fluttershy would be nearby. Then she took a deep breath and gave the four ponies a dark look, which was made worse by the fact that her fake smile was still in place. “Now that we have agreed on the minimum sentence, let’s go through this incident properly and see just how badly all of you screwed up.”

Tempest was seemingly trying to make herself as small as possible, the two Wonderbolts were completely devastated... and Blueblood was looking rather indignant. “Pardon me, aunt?” he asked, and Celestia was trying very hard not to accidentally stare him down. “I certainly hope you did not include me when you said that. I am merely a victim of this... this... ruffian!” He gestured towards Tempest, nearly punching Soarin in the face in the process.

Ruffian. Celestia blinked. This... ruffian. Tempest Shadow. The pony who invaded Canterlot. The pony who took out three princesses... and the Ponyville mailmare. The pony who apparently terrorized a town and exploded an airship while hunting for Twilight. The pony who nearly ended Equestria as we know it. And he calls her a-... She froze. Oh my goodness, he doesn’t have the faintest idea who she is, does he? It would have been improper to scream, so she settled for gritting her teeth instead. My vapid nephew went on his stupid vacation and somehow managed to not only miss the news that his homeland had been invaded, but also apparently to aggravate the pony mostly responsible for it. “Blueblood, dearest...” Her deceptively sweet tone made the Wonderbolts cringe. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Blueblood’s mood immediately improved, and he sat up straight. “This cripple punched me and then kicked me through a door!” Behind them, half a dozen unicorn guards immediately raised their spears, ready to fling them at Tempest, should she try to retaliate for the completely unnecessary namecalling. Thankfully, she didn’t move. At all.

“Just like that?” Celestia asked. “Nothing happened before that?”

Blueblood hesitated, which was all the answer she needed. “Uh... nooo...?” He waited for Tempest to contradict him and couldn’t hide a tiny smile when she remained silent. “No, nothing happened.”

You filthy, cowardly liar. “I... see.”

“One of the Wonderbolts came to my help, but she was kicked through the window. Then, while saving her from whatever spell that unicorn was trying to cast-” Soarin and Spitfire exchanged glances, but let the assertion stand. “-the other Wonder-...“ He caught himself, and Soarin was looking extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Ah... I mean... I... we...”

Celestia narrowed her eyes. Really, Soarin? What did you do? Were you the one who pushed my nephew out of an eighteenth floor window? I don’t even think we have thought of a punishment for that sort of thing. I feel that would call for something... creative. Are you allergic to immolation? “Yes...? Would you maybe like to fill in the blanks, Captain Soarin?”

Soarin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, obviously preparing for the worst. “Of course, Your Highness. You see...”

“I pushed him,” Tempest whispered.

The Wonderbolts turned their heads so fast that Celestia briefly worried about whiplash. Even Blueblood blinked several times. “You... what?” Celestia asked sharply.

“I attacked that unicorn for no reason.” Tempest spoke quietly, but her voice carried across the entire room. “And then I also assaulted the two Wonderbolts. They acted purely in self-defense. It’s all my fault.”

By now, the two Wonderbolts were giving her hard stares, but didn’t speak out. Even Blueblood frowned.

...what’s going on here? At her age, genuine surprises were becoming sort of a rarity, so Celestia usually enjoyed the thrill of the unknown. Usually. Is she actually taking the entire blame for this? ...and are the others letting her? “So... you are saying that...” She tried to mentally join Tempest’s fantasy land. “Hold on. You saw Blueblood... and punched him? Just like that?”

Tempest let out a short, raspy laugh. “His face was asking for it.”

“And then the Wonderbolts tried to protect him... and you... pushed both of them... and Blueblood... out of the window.” When no answer came, she huffed. “And then you jumped out yourself for good measure!?”

“Fell out.” Tempest weakly waved at Soarin. “While fighting him. They did everything right and should be commended for their actions.” Finally, for the first time since entering the room, she looked up, and Celestia shuddered when she found herself looking into completely lifeless eyes. “You know what you must do,” she whispered.

Goodness, this is suicide by princess. Poor thing... you spent your entire life as a tool for a mad king, and now you don’t feel that you can fit into any other role. How broken must you be to practically beg me to lock you up? She took a deep breath. Her adrenaline rush had ended quite some time ago, and now she was just feeling tired. Okay, this isn’t going the way I imagined it. Luna was right, I was way too emotional, and now I can’t back out without looking weak. Her gaze moved to the lead Wonderbolt. Work with me here! You know I’d cut you a deal, right? In a week, nopony will remember this entire episode, and you could be back at the top! But sentencing Tempest would be harder to sweep under the rug. “Captain Soarin, can you confirm this account?” she asked, shaking her head almost imperceptibly.

There was a long pause. “Yes, your Highness,” Soarin finally said.

Next to him, Spitfire let out a quiet hiss as she barely refrained from doing the right thing and calling him out. Celestia honestly couldn’t blame either of them for going along with a highly convenient lie that allowed them to get away scot-free, but she was severely disappointed. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Soarin said and idly stretched his wings, “real shame that she’s just going to assert her diplomatic immunity.”

“Her WHAT?” Blueblood did a visible double take. “That lunatic is a DIPLOMAT?”

His outburst was a welcome distraction while Celestia and Soarin were exchanging looks of surprise and mischief. She also noticed his wing jabbing Spitfire in her side, likely to make her follow along. Talk about having your cake and eating it, too. Well, I prefer not having to sentence anypony over sentencing the wrong pony. She gave him a subtle nod. Well, let’s see where this will go.

“Yes,” Soarin said loudly, as if volume correlated with truth, “she is... an ambassador.”

It was unfortunate that Soarin was sitting between Tempest and Blueblood, because from that position, he was unable to see both of them giving him the exact same look of incredulity. “She’s an ambassador?” Blueblood finally asked, clearly exasperated. “Of what country? Hooliganistan?”

In the background, a guard sniggered before coughing loudly in an effort to hide it.

“Oh... she’s from... uh...” Soarin was obviously running out of steam.

“Latmareia,” Spitfire took over seamlessly, obviously unwilling to let Soarin hog all the glory of getting away with lying to a Prince of Equestria. “This is Ambassador... Victoria Tempest Von Shadow of Latmareia. We usually just call her Tempest or Tempest Shadow, though.”

Somebody better call the Fawntastic Four; Doctor Shadow is on the loose again! Celestia had to bite her tongue to avoid laughing. The fate of Tempest and the Wonderbolts’ leadership comes down to whether my nephew gets a blatant comic book reference or not.

Blueblood slowly raised an eyebrow at the pair. “...huh,” he said after a very long pause, and the two Wonderbolts relaxed visibly. Behind them, Tempest had already hidden her confusion behind a carefully practiced mask of cool professionalism. Meanwhile, three guards hurriedly excused themselves in a desperate attempt to not burst out laughing inside the throne room. “Well. That... changes things, I suppose. Aunt? I trust you to write a stern letter to the... Latmareian... government. Immunity or not, assaulting royalty is still a grave offense.”

“Of course, dear,” Celestia said, trying not to smile too widely. “Why don’t you visit the infirmary and let a doctor give you a once-over? We can chat more during dinner.”

“Yes, yes... looking forward to it.” He got up and bowed slightly at the two princesses before heading towards the large doors leading to the castle halls.

Soarin got up as well, and Spitfire immediately got the hint. “Well, that was fun, but we should prolly get back to-”

“Sit.” Celestia gave them an unamused look.

The Wonderbolts laughed sheepishly and sat back down. “Worth a shot...”

She ignored their antics and looked over at Tempest, who immediately went back to cowering. “Shhh, you have nothing to worry, young one.”

“Oh?” Tempest laughed bitterly. “I’m not sure why you all suddenly decided to lie to a royal, but it doesn’t change what I did.” She sighed. “It doesn’t change who I am.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m the Storm King’s chief enforcer and bounty hunter,” Tempest said. “I’m the pony who turned you to stone. I’m the one who terrorized towns, destroyed airships-”

“You’re the pony who deliberately jumped in harm’s way in order to protect Twilight. And you’re also the one who just tried to take the full blame for an incident that is likely more complex than that.” Celestia smiled warmly. “Miss Berrytwist, you are not the pony you once were. We are all capable of change and redemption. All it takes is time and the willingness to make up for our mistakes.”

The tall unicorn thought about this. “Thank you for the kind words, Princess,” she finally said and started to leave. “But don’t call me that. Fizzlepop Berrytwist was a good pony who didn’t kick royals through doors or Wonderbolts through windows.” She gave her a faint smile over her shoulder. “But maybe, one day, I can become her again.”

“Yes, yes, I permit you to leave as I have decided that this meeting is over,” Celestia complained playfully when Tempest was already at the door, causing Luna to chuckle. “She’ll come around,” she told nopony in particular when the doors had closed behind her.

“Once she stops attacking royals,” Luna quipped. “That seems to be her favorite pastime. We should invite Shining Armor to come over, then she could go six for six.”

“Well, at least he’d probably give her a proper fight.” Celestia allowed herself a smile as she thought about the former Captain of the Royal Guards going hoof to hoof against Tempest. Maybe I can arrange something like that later and charge for admission. That’d probably pay for whatever damage these loons caused today. “Anyway.” She heard the two Wonderbolts sigh. “I presume Blueblood and I will have a good laugh about this at dinner time. You two managed to avoid punishment for this incident, but if he demands that you perform for his birthday party in pink tutus for lying to him, I won’t stop him.” The pair nodded meekly. “That all being said, I would still like to hear what actually happened. There will be no punishment for anything involving Tempest or my nephew, I just wish to know what is going on.”

“Well, before I begin, I would like to stress that I had no idea she would overhear me,” Soarin said and smiled sheepishly. Spitfire just sighed.

Oh, Miss Shadow, don’t just stay in your room all day! Why don’t you relax outside? That sounds like fun! What could go wrong? Everypony is so nice! Tempest snorted.

She didn’t like to admit it, but she had felt the impact of that idiot Wonderbolt. Soarin, wasn’t it? And while the fall from the eighteenth floor had fortunately been cut short, it had been cut short by the other one - Spitfire? - tackling her straight into a wall, which she had also felt. And yes, she had also felt the two-story drop onto the balcony.

I don’t care what they say about reformed villains not wearing their old armor, I’m not going to run around without protection anymore. She quickly glanced around before groaning and leaning against a wall. Stupid Wonderbolts. Stupid wall. Stupid balcony. Stupid lack of armor. And stupid pride! Why did you play it cool? It wouldn’t have killed you to show Princess Celestia that you’re in pain. “Bah!” she scolded her weak mind and pushed away from the wall. “You’re Tempest Shadow.” She was almost at her destination, anyway. “You’re indestructible.” Almost there. “If your enemies see you limping around, they will stop fearing you!” Almost. “You don’t limp. You don’t feel pain. They must think that they can’t-AUGH!” The jolt of pain started in her right shoulder and ran along her flank, causing her to collapse face-first against the wall. “Dammit! Come on, girl! Come on, you can do this! If the Storm King sees you like this, he’ll-” She froze when she realized that there was no Storm King and no ever-present threat of being deemed replaceable anymore. Stupid... stupid... She pushed against the wall to stop her slow descent towards the floor. Okay, what would a normal, non-evil pony do? “GRUBBER, MOVE YOUR FUZZY BEHIND HERE!” she roared. Okay, that was not the worst start, but you can do better, right? “...PLEASE!?” she added after a moment of hesitation. Okay, never mind. It’s a work in progress.

Proper or not, her words got the job done: a door at the end of the corridor flew open, and her hedgehog assistant burst into the corridor. “Yes! Here! I’m here!” He paused slightly when he spotted her. “Hey, boss... what’s up?”

Tempest waited patiently for him to jog over. Well, it wasn’t quite jogging. Ambitious walking, maybe. “Okay, this may sound-“

“Man, you look like crap.” Grubber’s mouth was clearly bypassing his brain and self-preservation instincts. “Did you pick a fight with some princess? Did she kick your flank?” He shrugged when he noticed her confused glare. “Hey, I overheard some staff today. They said that baddies are always significantly weaker after they reform. I bet you can’t even use your magical lightning thingy anymore.”

She gritted her teeth as her impulse to fry him with exactly that magical lightning clashed with the realization that the Good Guys probably weren’t huge on reducing their assistants to twitching heaps. “I could,” she hissed, then added lamely, “I just... don’t feel like it. Okay?”

Grubber nodded solemnly. “I... am so very sorry.” Then he held out his arms. “Hug?”

Tempest growled, and much to his credit, he backed off a step. “I’m not weakened! I just got tossed out of the eighteenth floor, okay?”

“Well, in that case, you look GREAT!” he said and gave her a quick thumbs-up. Then his skeptical look returned. “So, what, did one of the the princesses throw you out of the window?”

She hesitated. “It... no, it wasn’t a princess. Look, can we-“ She saw him raising an eyebrow and sighed. “Fine. It was a pegasus who threw me out BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING OKAY?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Grubber quickly assured her, making soothing gestures. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, just the price we have to pay for being on the winning team n-“ He yelped as her lightning struck the spot just to his right and arced across the floor, leaving scorch marks. He carefully eyed the narrow path of destruction that had barely missed him. Then his usual, slightly nervous smile returned in full force. “You rang?”

“Get one of the guys, I need a lift,” she muttered and immediately glared at him to signal that the time to banter about alleged weaknesses was over. “It’s a miracle that I could walk this far on my own, but-”

“Ohhh, I got just the thing!” He waddled back to the door, and she could hear him shout instructions. A few seconds later, a hulking Storm Creature showed itself, almost comically peeking out through the door before entering the hall.

Tempest squinted, trying to spot the tiny features that distinguished her otherwise identical guards. “...Alfonz?”

The Storm Creature nodded and grunted something that was probably his way of saying, “Indeed, it is I.” (Tempest couldn’t fully understand their language, but she liked to imagine her troops to be educated and well-spoken. It made her treat them with respect, which in turn reduced the number of “accidents” she got into.)

“Bring her inside, please,” Grubber told him after waving him over.

More grunting and gesturing from Alfonz: “With all due respect, but I fail to see why you assigned me this task. Her legs seem to function within acceptable operational parameters.”

“Hey, don’t give me that look, okay? I’m not the one who got turned into a wuss by the power of friendship.”

You stop exploding airships for a few weeks and your entire reputation goes downhill. “I can barely move, but I promise you two that I won’t be the first to hit the floor,” she hissed.

“See, now she’s mad at you. Don’t make her knit you a passive-aggressive sweater.”

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, she told herself as she felt her magic flaring up deep within her. He’s baiting you, don’t give him the satisfaction! “He’s right, Alfonz,” she said, giving them her most fake smile possible, “and I’ll knit it out of his fur.” Her smile widened enough to show her teeth. “I’ll start between the legs.”

“Right.” Grubber nervously licked his lips. “You heard the lady, get her inside.”

Alfonz gave them a shrug before wrapping an arm around her waist and effortlessly picking her up. Tempest barely bit back a loud curse as her body protested against the rough treatment. After a few steps, the giant had brought her into a large banquet hall, and she allowed herself a smile. Home, sweet home. The hall was populated by several dozen Storm Creatures, all of them peacefully working alone or in teams on a variety of small projects. Integrating them into society was going to be a challenge, but for now, their arts and crafts projects could be sold for good money, and the two princesses let them live down here for free.

“Make some space!” Grubber shouted, gesturing at a small group playing some pick-up game on the floor.

They quickly moved, and Tempest tried not to sigh. Large hall or not, space and especially furniture were a luxury in here. The floor is fine. I just need to get somebody to rub me down, then maybe an hour of napping in peace. At least none of those pesky royals or Wonderbolts or whatever are dumb enough to tackle me while I’m surrounded by a small army.

“Bring it in!” Grubber’s words caught her off guard, and she looked around.

“Oh my goodness,” she whispered when she saw the object that two Storm Creatures were carrying towards her. “Is that my couch?” She tried not to smile... and didn’t care when she failed. “You guys managed to smuggle my couch off the ship?”

Princess Celestia had been amicable about many things, but she had insisted on locking down the airship Tempest had used to bring Princess Twilight to the Storm King. All in all, the situation could have been worse: the Storm In Shadows was Tempest’s personal ship, meaning that her belongings were not stashed away in some fleeing renegade ship two continents away or anything. However, it was technically Storm King property and had thus been locked down until further notice, citing security concerns and the usual rules about spoils of war. Bringing some personal belongings (but no armor, weapons, or anything else that looked like it had combat applications, which ruled out depressingly much) had been permitted, but the officials had drawn the line at moving furniture. Especially when said furniture was a couch the size of a large bed. Especially when it was upholstered with dark red leather. Especially when its lower half came equipped with a dozen D-rings. Especially when the officials had already found the matching sets of shackles and collars, each attached to a thin chain. Tempest had understood not being permitted to bring the couch in, seeing how it was obviously an item used for interrogation and torture, even though she only used it to relax since it was surprisingly comfortable. She had not understood why the officials had giggled and blushed when they had discovered it, though. But who cares about some Canterlot servant - probably has never seen a proper couch or torture instrument before.

“We figured you’d miss it,” Grubber explained, politely ignoring her blissful smile. “Stroke of luck, too - the topic came up when Princess Twilight and her friends came through before going on their trip. Turns out that one of them is really good at bringing in couches from a distance.”

Tempest frowned even as Alfonz gently lowered her onto the leather. “One of her friends specializes in summoning furniture?”

“No, no, just couches. She swooned all drama-like, and bam, the couch floated in. I guess it’s her special talent or something? I dunno, didn’t really ask. Ponies and their talents and cutiemarks freak me out.” He pretended not to notice her glancing at her own scarred, blank flank.

“Yeah, it’s sad that some ponies need a picture on their butt to tell them what they’re good at,” she said airily and stretched, the leather delightfully cool against her coat. The subject of her lack of a cutie mark rarely came up, mostly due to the general lack of Equestrians in the Storm King’s army. Still, the fact that she had apparently never found her special talent had once driven her past her breaking point. Thankfully, only she and Grubber knew what had happened during her darkest hour. Everybody else had bought their cover story of a manticore somehow scarring both sides of her flank. “Me, I know what I’m good at.”

“Falling from great heights?” Grubber asked, obviously testing just how thankful she was for him saving her couch from Canterlot bureaucracy.

“Not much of a talent, is it?” She smirked, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. “No, we both-”

The sound of somepony knocking at their door made them freeze.

“Relax, guys, I got it.” Grubber motioned them to stay put and made his way to the door. “I’m coming!” He opened it a little bit, not enough to let the pony on the other side look in. “Sorry, we’re not interested in buying your magazine or washing machines or whatever. Though if you got Filly Scout cookies, I might be willing to try some...”

“Aw man, I could totally go for some of those right now,” the stallion on the other side sighed.

Tempest winced when she recognized the voice. What’s that Wonderbolt doing here? “Grubber!” she hissed, then frantically shook her head when he glanced her way.

“We don’t have any of those, I’m afraid,” Spitfire said. Tempest wasn’t overly surprised that she was accompanying her colleague, but the question remained what they were doing here. “However, we did bring quite a few other treats! Let’s see... ohh, did you ever try Battenberg Cake? I love that stuff, though it’s hell on the figure.”

“Oh, did you ever come to the right place! Me and the guys are always happy when there’s free cake involved! Right, guys?”

There was some slightly forced cheering - everybody knew that Grubber was willing to fight any Storm Creature to the death if it meant getting more cake for himself.

“That’s great to hear, but... uh,” Soarin said, “it’s for Miss Shadow.”

“...who?” Grubber frowned. “Oh, you mean Tempest?” He froze. “Uhhh... haven’t seen her in days, unfortunately. But I can hold on to the cake... and if I see her again, I can, like, give it to her.”

“Sorry, but we’re supposed to hand it over personally,” Spitfire said. “The staff prepared these treats explicitly for her. Apparently, the news of Prince Blueblood getting decked was like some sort of early Hearth’s Warming Eve present for them, so they asked us to deliver this thank-you present. Unofficially, of course. She wasn’t in her room, so we thought she might be here. But I suppose we’ll have to take this with us again and keep looking...”

Oh, you monster, Tempest thought as Grubber’s grip on the door tightened. This is either going to end with two Wonderbolts in the hospital or with one cake addict crying his eyes out into my mane for the rest of the night.

The short hedgehog licked his lips. “I... ahhh...”

“Let them in,” she snapped and rolled her eyes.

“Shock and horror,” Soarin taunted as he strode in, “you lied to-” He stopped dead in his tracks, nearly causing Spitfire to bump into him.

“Don’t let the guys intimidate you,” Grubber said and took a large box from Spitfire’s back, “they haven’t maimed anybody in hours.”

“Uhhhuh,” Spitfire said, eyeing the assembled Storm Creatures. She didn’t sound reassured, and Tempest allowed herself a slight smile.

Soarin carefully looked around, his eyes moving from the assembled Storm Creatures to her. His expression slowly shifted from shock to amused curiosity. “...is this a harem?”

Her smile fell. “A what?” Then her brain pieced together what the scene was looking like for an outsider: her on her leather couch, surrounded by large, muscular servants. Half of her minions nodded, the others vehemently shook their heads. Tempest wasn’t sure which half actually knew what a harem was, but she had a hunch that she didn’t want to know.

“Well, I supp-”

“It’s not a harem,” Tempest quickly cut off whatever nonsense Grubber was about to say, then gave him a glare. “People who were about to sell me out for a piece of cake don’t have any say in this matter.” Grubber just shrugged and opened the box. Then he took out a large, multicolored slice of cake and stuffed it into his mouth. Tempest knew from experience that cake and the inevitable food coma afterwards would effectively prevent him from spreading terrible and wrong rumors about her alleged weakness or harem habits for the next couple of hours. It also meant that she didn’t have to confess that these two pegasi were responsible for her current situation. Plus Prince Nowings, but who cares about him?

“Of course it’s not,” Soarin said and moved further into the room, but his grin told a different story. Behind him, Spitfire just raised an eyebrow. “Ohhh, I know that couch!” He gently nudged one of the D-rings with one hoof and nodded to himself.

Has he been a prisoner of war? Tempest wasn’t sure what the Wonderbolts did exactly, but she hadn’t thought that they would carry out missions in hostile territory. “You... have been...” She gestured slowly, unsure how to broach the subject.

“Bound and whipped, yes.” Soarin did not look quite as traumatized as Tempest had expected. When he noticed his companion’s questioning look, he grinned. “You remember my recent trip to Germaneigh?”

“Yes, you couldn’t train for three days afterwards because you had been... sore...” Spitfire tilted her head and gave the couch another look. “Ohhh...”

Tempest wasn’t sure if she was following. “You were tortured in Germaneigh? I thought they are not considered a hostile nation.”

Soarin frowned, then exchanged brief looks with his friend. “You... have no idea what this couch is normally used for, do you?” He gave her a smile that was slightly too wide.

“Of course I do,” she said, trying not to raise her voice. “You can chain ponies to it with shackles and collars. And then you interrogate them, and they cannot move as they are tortured.”

His smile widened even more. “And I presume you got it from a place specializing in, ah, torture and interrogation?”

“Well... sort of...” She licked her lips, feeling uncharacteristically nervous all of a sudden. “It had allegedly been a massage parlor, but that was obviously just a front for some sort of secret police. We found this couch in a back room with various other instruments of torture. Whips... and paddles... and candles...” She gave Grubber a desperate look - why was it getting warmer all of a sudden?

“How can somepony so evil be so innocent?” Soarin asked and shot Spitfire a suggestive grin.

“I’M NOT EV-” Tempest sat up, then bit back a scream as her side exploded in pain again. Strong hands guided her back onto the couch, and she cursed under her breath.

“Right. While Soarin’s busy gloating about his kinks, why doesn’t one of your boys rub you down with this?” Spitfire retrieved a bottle from her bags and gave it to the nearest Storm Creature. “We use it to prevent worsening soreness after accidents. There’s also something against the pain mixed into it. After the beating you took today, you admittedly won’t be as good as new tomorrow, but you will at least be able to move.”

Tempest gave her a look after glancing at the bottle. “And what is really in there?”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Soarin said and nudged Spitfire’s side. “After viciously assaulting her charge, the disgraced Captain of the Wonderbolts has lost the trust of the general populace!”

“How could you put so many lies in one sentence?” Spitfire asked and rolled her eyes. “We were supposed to keep an eye on that side of the castle, so she wasn’t exactly our, much less my charge. Also, you were Captain at the time, I just got the title back because you admitted that you had screwed up today. And neither of us has been disgraced, thanks to Miss Shadow here offering to take the blame for everything. Aaand she is not the general populace!”

“So you admit that you attacked her?” Soarin asked after mentally going over the list of her corrections again.

“I’m not the one who pushed her out of that window,” she hissed and shoved her colleague. “She assaulted me, and I broke her fall. See, I care!”

“You tried to break a wall with her.”

“My sole crime is that I cared with too much enthusiasm,” Spitfire replied and gave him her best innocent look.

“Wait... hold on...” Grubber squinted at them, and Tempest groaned. “Are those two...” He started gesturing from the Wonderbolts to her, then back at them. “Those two twerps are the ones who managed to kick your flank?” The hedgehog gave them another, highly critical look. “Seriously? Them?”

“Well, there was also Prince Blueblood,” Soarin said, trying not to look hurt by Grubber’s slightly dismissive attitude towards him. “He helped by tossing a blanket over her head.”

“A blanket.” Grubber gave her a long, judging look. “He tossed. A blanket.” Then, after noticing that she was trembling with rage, he gave her a condescending pat on the side. “There, there. You’ll always have your memories of better times.”

“Guys, could you maybe stop antagonizing the lady who is trying to murder us with her mind right now?” Spitfire shifted her wings a bit, as if trying to flex them without anybody noticing.

“D’awww, it’s fine!” Grubber assured her and ruffled Tempest’s mane. “She’s still getting used to being weak after her reformation,” he casually explained to the Wonderbolts.

One of the Storm Creatures decided that, short of it being part of a ritual that would fix her horn, there was nothing that would justify ruffling Tempest’s mane and grabbed Grubber by his scruff. “My most sincere apologies; we shall have a heartfelt conversation about what is and what isn’t the appropriate way of treating you after a rough day,” he - probably - said through three short grunts and dragged the short hedgehog away. A second Storm Creature quickly picked up the cake box and followed them, knowing full well that the one thing worse than Tempest going wild was Grubber being deprived of sweets.

“Oh, okay, I think me and the boys will have cake over there, seeya!” he shouted over his shoulder, seemingly oblivious to how close he had brought himself and the Wonderbolts to crippling pain.

Tempest gave him the best glare she could - the way she was lying on the couch prevented her from giving him a proper evil eye with her scarred right side, but it wasn’t as if he was looking her way, anyway. “So,” she muttered, still glaring in Grubber’s general direction on the off chance that he was going to return, “what’s your deal?”

“Our deal?” Spitfire asked once she and Soarin had settled the issue of who was going to do the talkingthrough a series of quick looks and gestures.

“You come here with cake and medicine after we tried to kill each other. Princess Twilight showed me that you are an easily forgiving lot, but this is pushing it.”

“Well, maybe we figured that we made a bad first impression and wanted to fix that,” Spitfire replied, speaking slowly as if choosing her words with great care. She exchanged looks with Soarin. “Also, you saved our flanks in front of Princess Celestia.”

“Yeah, she looked ready to put us on sun-polishing duty.”

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “...was that a sexual euphemism relating to her cutie mark?”

For once, Soarin looked puzzled. “Intriguing, but no. I mean the actual sun-polishing duties.” When Spitfire just gave him an incredulous look, he frowned. “You know. Sun-polishing duties.”

“The words won’t make more sense if you just keep repeating them...”

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you that...” His face fell as his brain was apparently a few steps ahead of his mouth for once. “But...” He bit his lower lip.

“Yeees?” Spitfire leaned closer, eyes wide in anticipation. “What did your parents tell you?”

He lowered his head. “They told me that-” The rest was lost as he just started to mumble.

“Oh, come on, I promise I won’t laugh.” That was a terrible lie - Spitfire was already starting to grin.

“Any chance you might decide to break my neck out of mercy?” he asked Tempest, giving her a pleading look.

“I don’t do requests, sorry.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down...” Finally, he sighed. “My parents told me that Princess Celestia regularly assigns all the colts who mas-... pleasured themselves the most to sun-polishing duties.”

Spitfire’s grin seemed to lock up at a weird angle. “That’s actually rather sad, and you have my deepest sympathies, Soarin,” she said a bit too quickly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?” And with that, she marched to the door and closed it behind her.

“I’m lucky to have her as a friend,” Soarin remarked drily, but Tempest barely heard him over the sound of Spitfire’s hysterical laughter. “I mean, could you imagine having her as an enemy?”

“I kicked her through a window today,” Tempest replied, “so I’m amazed to still be on her good side. Friendship is weird.” Then she paused. “How long did you believe that thing about polishing the sun?” When he just sighed, she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head this way and that. “On the bright side, I think I know what I’m going to do the next couple of nights now.”

She shrugged. “Understandable.”

He gave her a surprised look. “I kinda expected you to be a bit more grossed out than that.”

“I traveled with those guys for far too long. Trust me, I’ve seen things.” Some of the Storm Creatures nodded enthusiastically.

“Sorry, had something in my throat,” Spitfire said as she came back in. She was looking exhausted - laughing for this long had probably burnt more calories than their fight had. “Where were we?”

“We were expressing our gratitude towards Miss Shadow here,” Soarin said, carefully avoiding any mention of sun-polishing duties.

“Right! Right!” Spitfire nodded eagerly. “Yeah, we got away lightly, considering that we almost got Prince Blueblood killed.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Tempest gestured towards Soarin. “I apparently couldn’t prevent you from being demoted. Sorry to hear that. If there’s anything I can do to-”

The stallion laughed lightly. “Oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, Soarin and I trade the Captain title back and forth every couple of weeks. Usually through some sort of bet.”

“Seriously? That’s rath-... ohhh...” Tempest groaned quietly - one of the Storm Creatures had started to rub the oily medicine into her shoulders, and she relaxed and lay down on the couch.

“Yeah, I won the title last month after betting that-”

Spitfire interrupted him by coughing loudly. “Soarin, I really don’t think Tempest wants to hear that boring story,” she said, smiling a bit too widely. “She’s had a rough day and wants some rest, so we should probably leave. Now.”

“Ohhh, is it that bad?” Tempest teased her and smiled lazily. The medicine stung lightly, but it seemed to spread a warm glow straight through her coat.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Soarin was giving her a toothy grin. “It was-”

“Don’t you have a sun to polish or something?”

“Hey, I refuse to be the only one to be embarrassed today!”

Spitfire huffed, but Tempest could tell that they were just teasing each other. “Fine. Jerk.”

“Right then. As I was saying...”

“Good thing that you didn’t injure yourself,” Celestia said and pretended to enjoy her meal. It was a very good salad, but the ruler of the day was obviously distracted.

“Yes, the nurse gave me something against the swelling.” Blueblood smiled and poked and prodded his own meal. He was hungry - apparently, the shock of almost hitting the ground at terminal velocity burnt quite a few calories? - but his mind was also elsewhere. Something is wrong, he thought and almost laughed at his own understatement. His aide had done some research while he had been in the infirmary, and a lot had happened during his vacation, even by Canterlot’s high standards: there had been an invasion, three alicorns (and some pegasus from Ponyville, not that he cared) had been turned to stone, the populace had been put under arrest and of course there had been a cataclysmic showdown right here in the palace. And then, oh wonder of wonders, Tempest Shadow was on our side and saved the day. How very fortunate. Right, this doesn’t smell like a long-shot plot to finish what this Storm King started at all. She just happened to be good all along. Ha! He scowled at his salad before giving his aunt (several generations removed, as nopony ever forgot to point out) a carefully neutral look. “So,” he finally decided to broach the subject that was on his mind, “about Miss Shadow...”

Celestia gave him a slight smile. “Yes?”

He paused, suddenly unsure what to ask first. There is so much wrong here that I don’t even know where to start! How about Latmareia, a country that DOESN’T EVEN EXIST? I mean, sure, sure, it may exist; after all, it’s not like the universe stenciled a compass rose on my flank and OH WAIT IT DID AND I KNOW THE NAME OF EVERY COUNTRY THERE IS BY HEART. He huffed and stabbed his salad with his tiny fork. Or how about the fact that ambassadors don’t stay in the castle’s VIP suites? They have houses in the diplomatic district! Why, it’s almost as if she wasn’t actually an ambassador after all! How strange!

“You were saying...?” Celestia asked slowly and blinked, smile still plastered on her face.

So what does that tell us? Well, either every single pony involved in inviting Tempest Shadow into the castle lost eighty IQ points since my departure... or... He frowned deeply. Or they are being manipulated. Magically, maybe? Mind control? No, that sounds far-fetched; it’s hopefully hard to successfully cast such a spell on Celestia, and Tempest Shadow’s horn is broken, so she at least couldn’t have done it. So... maybe she is just lying? But that has to be a highly elaborate lie if it fooled Celestia. A master spy, probably. An evil master spy. I won’t have any luck just pointing out the inconsistencies - she’ll probably have some sort of explanation, and I have only my gut feeling as evidence. Not even to mention that doing so would tell her that I know of her plan to conquer Equestria, and then I’d have some sort of terrible, highly convenient accident with no witnesses.

“Yeees?” Celestia shot her sister a brief look when she got no reply, but Luna just shrugged. The ruler of the night had apparently decided early on that interacting with Blueblood was not really her thing.

No... I need more. A confession. He nodded to himself. A confession that she’s not actually an ambassador. The moment I got this, I can have her tossed in a jail cell at least for posing as a diplomat, and we can get the rest through interrogation. But... how do I get her to confess in the first place? She needs to trust me. That should be doable. Although the question is how much time I have. She surely has a plan, and this is likely just phase one of it. I need to act more directly. Use the skills I have at my disposal. A smile appeared on his face as he started to develop a daring plan. “I was wondering whether she is more into flowers or candy,” he finally said, his smile widening.

“Tempest? Flowers? Candy?” Judging by the overall lack of verbs, the oldest alicorn in the kingdom was at a loss for words. “You... what?”

“I would like to ask her out on a date, auntie.” The smile turned into a predatory grin. “I believe I’m in love.”

Author's Note

Soarin and Spitfire playfully competing for the Captain title is one of my older headcanons, dating back to before we saw more of the Wonderbolts.

The name "Alfonz" is a nod to a very good friend who would ALWAYS suggest this when I asked him to come up with a name, regardless of setting.

Tempest's cutie mark scars were introduced after Earthsong's cover art stream - I liked her suggestion and the resulting looks, and while I won't copy her headcanon, those scars are self-inflicted.

Blueblood apparently was one of the few ponies who didn't make an appearance in The Movie, which somehow amuses me to no end. (If I just missed his cameo... er... pretend that he wasn't there, anyway. XD)

Doctor Doom and the Fantastic Four belong to Marvel Comics.

Slow-dodging and fast-talking

“Good morning, Your High-”

“Yes, yes,” Celestia muttered and walked past the guard without even giving him her usual nod and smile. She pushed the door to the dining room open before the servants could do so for her. “Hello.”

Luna, Princess of the Night and Guardian of Yadda Yadda Who Cares, smiled politely. “Good morning.”

“Coffee?” Celestia asked the small pot close to her after sitting down at the table next to her sister.

There was an awkward pause as the pot of tea refused to answer. “Since my return, you have tried to outlaw coffee eight times,” Luna finally pointed out.

Celestia gave her a long look. She remembered her legislative pushes well, and the reason for their failures was sitting next to her. “So that’s a no, then?” When Luna merely raised an eyebrow, she groaned. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Well, I can see that.”

“Oh?” Celestia checked the teapot again on the off chance that its content had spontaneously changed.

“Yes, you forgot to turn on the Royal Flowy Thingy,” Luna said and helpfully pointed at her own mane, which, unlike Celestia’s, was flowing majestically in the nonexistent wind.

“I’ll get to that once I either had caffeine or a nap.”

“You’re a fully realized alicorn, you technically don’t need-...” She shut up when Celestia just gave her a glare. “Let me guess: it’s about Blueblood?”

“He’s in love!?” The shriek made most of the servants and even some of the guards jump.

Luna allowed herself a smile. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes!” Celestia snapped, but then quickly held up a hoof as she gathered herself. “Okay, that probably sounded bad, but you don’t know him.”

“I know him well enough to see that he is an entitled brat.”

One of the servants approached them, carefully pushing a cart with a large pot towards Celestia. “Coffee, your Highness?”

“Thank the heavens, the kitchen staff has received my prayers!” Celestia quickly grabbed the pot with her magic and filled a cup. “Well, it’s not quite as simple,” she resumed her conversation with Luna before emptying the cup in one gulp. “You seeeeEEEeeeeeaaaaaarghhhh...” She shuddered and grimaced. Right, I remember why I tried to outlaw this stuff.

“Well, I certainly see something,” Luna said, looking far too amused by her sister’s suffering.

“Bwahhh...” Celestia tried to use a piece of toast to sandpaper her tongue. Then she poured herself another cup. “Right. As I was saying... it’s not quite as simple. Blueblood has his fair share of issues, some of which are quite justified. His track record when it comes to dating and romance, however, is not entirely one of those justifiable issues. He has dated nobles and even some celebrities, and each time, it just came across as... as...”

“As an obligation?” Prince Blueblood finished her sentence as he strode into the dining hall.

“BLUEBLOOD!?” Celestia whirled around while Luna snickered quietly. A social faux-pas, the few times she actually committed one, rarely bothered her. However, with how little time she had to socialize with family members, no matter how distant, she tried to keep her record with them spotless.

“Good morning, aunt.” Blueblood politely bowed at her before repeating the gesture for the second alicorn. “Aunt Luna.”

“Good morning, Blueblood,” Luna replied cheerfully.

Right. What a start into my day. “I was just... telling Luna...”

“You were telling her about my dating record.” Blueblood didn’t appear to be mad. At all. “Yes, a shameful history of dashed expectations and abuse of status.” He shrugged and levitated a croissant from a large plate near his sitting cushion. “Things had been rough: the pressure to carry on the bloodline by siring a son had been immense. And mother and father pestering me to date any noblemare smart enough to flick her mane over her shoulder without losing her balance certainly did not help...” For a moment, the stallion stared off into space, but then he quickly plastered a smile onto his face and took a bite from the pastry. “Anyway, thanks to my brother, this has thankfully been resolved, and now Uncle Blueblood can pursue his true calling.”

You conveniently forgot to mention the years after your brother’s marriage, when dating had apparently become a sadistic pastime for you. “Finding... true... love?”

Blueblood playfully rolled his eyes at that. “Ah, that sounds like something straight out of a trashy romance novel.” He gave her the same enigmatic smile he had given her during dinner. “I would rather put it as serving my kingdom.”

Celestia didn’t even bother to hide her sideways glance at her sister. Luna merely raised an eyebrow. “Well, that may very well have been the most royal thing you have said in your entire life,” she finally conceded and tried to smile. “May I ask how you intend to... ah... serve your kingdom?”

“Why, I find it blindingly obvious.” He poured himself half a glass of orange juice and took a quick sip. “I shall confess my undying love to Miss Shadow.” He paused, then took another sip. “Everything else will fall into place from there.”

Celestia gave him a long, confused stare. “Did the doctor check for a concussion?” she finally couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “I have been told that Tempest Shadow has a wicked right hook...”

“She does!” He laughed lightly. “But no, I’m fine. More than fine, actually! I feel... I feel like I finally know my place in life. In... all of this. I feel like I finally got my cutie mark.”

“You already have one,” Celestia heard herself say and forced herself not to laugh at the absurdity of Blueblood of all ponies being enthusiastic about cutie marks. The mental image of him joining the Cutie Mark Crusaders didn’t make the task any easier.

“Our cutie marks are connected to our respective Royal Gifts; they don’t necessarily reflect our talents, virtues, or destinies.” He looked at the compass rose on his own flank. “My destiny is not to tell ponies how many miles away the coast of Neighpal is,” he muttered.

“Unless I missed some developments that happened during the last thousand years, Neighpal is a landlocked country and thus has no coast,” Luna chimed in, showcasing a penchant for pedantry that made her a feared negotiator and a highly annoying younger sister.

“See, it doesn’t reflect our destiny or our talents!” Blueblood said and pointed at Luna with the last bit of his croissant.

Celestia wasn’t sure if he was just trying to save face or if he had anticipated the response. Very likely the latter; even without the Royal Gift reflected in his cutie mark, he has better geography knowledge than most ponies in a half-mile radius. She frowned. Also, when was the last time he undersold literally any quality he possesses? He is up to something, but I can’t quite see what it is... The temptation to confront him was there, but she decided to let it go for now. Let him have his fun. He is acting like a royal for the first time in his life, so why should I stop him? And maybe he really is in love with her. But if he’s not... “Well, I hope you will find and realize your destiny, my dearest nephew. But before you go and do all that, I must ask you to let my Captain assign at least two guards to accompany you while you are out and about.”

“...guards?” Blueblood slowly raised an eyebrow. “I thought I only require an honor guard when I’m on diplomatic missions.”

“I’m not thinking of an honor guard. Just... two good ponies who trail behind and protect you, just in case.” So that they can save you once you dump Tempest in your usual spectacular and humiliating fashion. “It was... deemed necessary for the time being, what with the Storm King attack recently. Maybe there are... loyalists lurking in the shadows?” Or, you know, tempests lurking in the shadows. Eh? Ehhh? She cringed at her own awful joke. Good heavens, I thought coffee worked faster than that.

His eyes widened slightly, and he started to nod. “Of course! Yes, yes... that’s... I can absolutely... yes, that’s a wonderful idea. Can they meet me at my room in, say, half an hour?”

That was easier than expected. “Of course.” She watched him get up. “Oh, and Blueblood?”

He blinked and looked up at her. “Yes, aunt?”

“Good luck.” She smiled gently.

“Thank you.” He smiled back. “Oh, and aunt?”

“Yes, dear?”

“You forgot to turn on the Royal Flowy Thingy.”

Blueblood’s smile turned into a frown the moment he left the dining room. She suspects. Wait, no. She suspects something, but she’s not sure what it is yet. She’s certainly not buying that I’m unconditionally in love. Yet. That should be rectified after the first or second date. He huffed. Yes, I think I have nothing to worry about from Celestia. She may have been manipulated into believing Tempest’s lies, but she’s generally on my side. Good. His ear flicked back when he heard a second set of hoofsteps approaching from behind. Heavy hoofsteps. “Regelreiter, excellent.”

“Morning, boss,” the stallion said and joined Blueblood.

He was a unicorn, just like Blueblood, but the similarities more or less ended there. Aside from superficial differences like his grey-brown coat or dark grey mane, Regelreiter was Very Much And Absolutely Not Fat. It was, of course, undeniable that he had the physique of a pony who loved a hearty lunch but never had to do hard labor, but raising the point required more tact than Blueblood usually showcased.

There were many words one was allowed to use to describe him: ‘stout’ was one of Blueblood’s favorites since it almost sounded like a compliment. And if he needed something urgently, he resorted to the slightly euphemistic ‘sturdy.’ But calling the unicorn ‘fat’ was a mistake most ponies did exactly once. Blueblood had learned eighteen new curse words in three different languages the day he had done so for the first time. That was an extremely horrifying experience, but the day will come when I have to out-curse some foul-mouthed drunk in Germaneigh or Prance, and that day is going to be glorious.

Of course, occasional teasing aside, Blueblood didn’t really care about the few extra pounds. Regelreiter was one of the smartest and most competent civilians he had ever met, and Blueblood valued him more than he was ready to admit.

“I need you to run a quick errand for me,” Blueblood said and gave his aide a look over the shoulder to check his reaction.

Regelreiter frowned briefly, but then decided to dig for more information before protesting. “Errand as in the time you sent me to the library to look up obscure zoning laws and reverse lobbying just because you wanted to see how far you could get with your proposal to open a Spurbucks inside another Spurbucks?”

Blueblood grimaced. “No, this time will hopefully end with fewer lectures about whether or not it’s okay to funnel funds from the royal treasury into shadow committees to achieve controlling interest of a coffee chain.”

“Princess Luna approved of your actions, though.”

“Yes, and her caffeine addiction and the royally subsidized Spurbucks inside her astronomy tower are the only reasons why I haven’t spent the last few years being grounded.” He sighed. “But no. I need you to buy some flowers.”

“You... want me to... buy... flowers?” Regelreiter frowned deeply at this. “I feel like this is a good idea to remind you that you pay me for being your lawyer.”

“Technically, I pay you for being my aide.”

“An aide with a law degree who handles your legal matters.”

“See? Aide.” Blueblood rolled his eyes in a way he knew annoyed the other stallion.

“Right. I’ll be Canterlot’s best-paid flower courier, then.”

“Optimist,” Blueblood snorted, then laughed sheepishly when Regelreiter gave him a look. “Never mind.”

“I’ll remember this conversation when we sit down for my next performance review. But fine, whatever, you have obviously made up your mind. Who’s going to be today’s lucky mare? One of the nurses from yesterday, maybe? Or maybe-”

“Tempest Shadow.”

Regelreiter froze, then cursed under his breath. “I was hoping you’d have forgotten about that particular conspiracy theory by now.”

“Conspiracy theory?” Blueblood let out a harsh laugh, then quickly checked to make sure that nopony was nearby. “Tempest Shadow invaded this very city, attacked my family, and tried to lay waste to the entire world,” he finally hissed. “You don’t honestly believe that she just flipped a switch and became good, do you?”

Much to his credit, his aide was not intimidated or particularly surprised. “Princess Twilight believes so,” he finally replied, “and she’s the Princess of-”

“Oh, give me a break!” Blueblood snorted angrily. “Twilight is, what, eight?”

“I think she’s more in the area of twenty-something, so not that much younger than y-”

“And what did she have to say about yesterday’s vicious attack? Or the lying?”

“Good questions.” The bulkier pony shrugged. “Maybe somepony should actually, you know, ask her?”

“Yeah, sure, we’ll give her some time to compose a statement. It’s not like Tempest Shadow is known to get much done quickly, so this shouldn’t be- OH WAIT, SHE TOOK OVER THE ENTIRE CITY WITHIN AN HOUR!”

This time, Regelreiter did jump a little bit. “Okay, okay, no need to shout.” He coughed, trying to regain his composure. “Fine, so let’s assume that she is some sort of evil mastermind. Shouldn’t we call a professional to handle this, then? Maybe Captain That-One-Guy-Shining-Armor-Picked?”

Blueblood almost managed not to smirk at that. Neither of them had a bad memory, but Shining Armor’s successor as Captain of the Royal Guards was just so terribly bland. Possibly as competent as Shining Armor, but lacking his wit, charisma, and character. “He may already be compromised. Even in the best case, he might demand to do things by the book and in public, which would involve a whole number of ponies she has already gotten to.”

His aide frowned. “Just for the record, you sound like a conspiracy nutcase.”

“Just for the record, ponies have been fired for far less insulting statements,” Blueblood joked, carefully ignoring the point Regelreiter had raised.

“Feel free to try,” the bulkier pony replied airily. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding another idiot who will run your petty errands and prevent you from doing things that will get you sued.” He smirked. “Also, if you fire me for that, I will file a lawsuit against you for wrongful termination.”

“...this is why Celestia told me to have two lawyers at my disposal, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“...I don’t have a second lawyer, do I?” Blueblood narrowed his eyes and gave Regelreiter a pointed look.

“As a matter of fact, you do!” Regelreiter replied. “However, three weeks in, you started to date her.”

“Oh.” Blueblood honestly had no idea who the pony in question had been. However, given that almost literally every single one of his relationships had ended the same way, he didn’t really need to ask any further questions in that direction. “...wait, I do? Present tense? If I’m still paying her, why have I never seen her around? I mean, I can accept that she wouldn’t join me for... I don’t know... the Grand Galloping Gala, but I would have expected her to show up for her annual performance reviews, at least.”

“The last time you saw her, she had vowed to set the royal palace on fire with your reproductive organs if she ever had to lay eyes on you again. You chose not to ask for details and instead generously offered to fund her move to Manehattan while agreeing to keep her on the payroll until further notice.”

Blueblood tilted his head, but then blinked. “Oh, her! Unicorn, cyan mane, grey coat, loved to nibble on my ear when-...” He stopped himself and coughed, trying to ignore the other stallion’s exasperated glare. “Right. Well. Good for her. We should probably still let her go and hire a local lawyer again.”

“Of course. Should I do that before or after organizing the flowers?”

“...flowers?” He blinked. “OH! RIGHT! FLOWERS!” He shook his head. “Right, right. I suppose I should save everypony from certain doom first. But then you get me a lawyer who doesn’t want to do things with my private parts.” He considered his phrasing. “Bad things,” he finally clarified.

For a few seconds, Regelreiter seemed to consider voicing some sort of condemnation, but then he simply sighed. “Of course. Flowers for Tempest Shadow. I presume I’ll arrange for the bouquet to be delivered to her room as per your usual mode of operation?”

“No. No delivery. Go to the shop, pick up the bouquet, then bring it to my quarters. I shall deliver it personally.”

“...bold opening move. Need I remind you what happened the last time you went face to face with her?”

Blueblood touched his cheek without even thinking about it. “No. However, this time, I will be prepared, and I will not be alone.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. My aunt has decided to assign guards for my protection-” He pretended not to notice the barely suppressed laugh of his lawyer. “-from Storm King loyalists and not because she thinks that Tempest Shadow might try to punch me again.”

“Right. Right.” Regelreiter was still looking far too amused.

Blueblood sighed, though he now did question why his aunt had only decided to assign guards to him after he had declared his new dating plans. “Anyway. They will report to my quarters shortly. Once they arrived and you got me some flowers, we shall begin.”

“As you insist,” Regelreiter announced and bowed dramatically before heading for the stairs.

The moment he was out of sight, Blueblood could hear him laugh.

Tempest blinked and slowly pulled her blanket further up to shield her eyes - apparently, she had forgotten to close her curtains last night.

Weeks ago, sleeping in past sunrise would have sounded like lunacy. Now, she had adopted a slightly more relaxed view of things. Being unemployed certainly helps, she snarked silently. Wonder how much longer the princesses will let me live rent-free in one of their deluxe suites. Especially after yesterday.

The thought made her feel uncomfortable enough that she finally got up. “Right. Let’s see if Princess Celestia at last came to her senses and stapled an eviction notice on my do-” The rest of her musing was lost to a hailstorm of curses and grunts of pain until she finally collapsed halfway between her bed and the floor.

For a few seconds, she let her head rest on the cold marble floor, just panting quietly. “Right,” she finally muttered, remembering the events of the last day.

It was a most undignified position, with half of her body on the bed and the other half on the floor, but there were no witnesses she had to murder, so she decided to take things slowly. After a few preliminary checks to make sure that she could at least get away with small movements in each limb, she made the judgment call to drag herself fully onto the floor.

Okay, she thought after a few seconds on the marble floor, if for some reason I’m not being evicted today, I should suggest underfloor heating to Princess Celestia. It doesn’t have to be all fancy-like with actual lava like the setup I have on my ship, but come on! She literally controls the sun and can’t even spring for warm floors in her suites? She laughed at her warped sense of priorities before carefully working her way up onto all fours again. The more she moved, the more she was amazed by how much she actually could move. After all the fighting and faceplanting I’ve done, it’s a minor miracle that I can move at all. I mean, I probably shouldn’t pick a fight like that again for at least another day, but... wow, this was actually some potent medicine! Reminds me of the stuff the Storm Creatures use after fights... except that this stuff here doesn’t make me see beyond eternity for three days afterward. She stretched carefully, then took a few steps, cautious at first, but after a few minutes, she was moving almost as if nothing had happened.

“Wow, as long as I don’t overdo it, I should be ready to go.” She smiled and nodded. Then she frowned. “Not that I have anywhere to go to. I suppose I could swipe something to eat and pay my couch a visit? Wouldn’t hurt to see a few friendly faces again...”

She opened the door leading out into the corridor... and nearly walked into the group of ponies that had gathered on the other side.

“I’m still not sure...” Blueblood gave the bouquet another look, and Regelreiter barely held back a groan. “These flowers look so... pedestrian.”

His aide leaned in closer and gestured at the door they were standing in front of. “We literally walked all the way to her door, and you’re still going on about the flowers?” He paused, then sighed. “Look, neither of us is exactly a florist, right? I ordered something that goes well with a rose-colored mane. These literally are roses. They’re the perfect fit. And if you think they look ‘pedestrian,’ a look at the bill might rectify that.”

Blueblood huffed. “Fine, fine... I just like the look of those... blue flowers more...” When his aide gave him a confused look. “The ones I got Galindia, remember?”

“...that was Poison Joke,” Regelreiter informed him after a moment of hesitation. “Need I remind you that it caused her to speak in a language so old that even Princess Celestia had forgotten it even existed?”

Blueblood hesitated. “Ohhhhhh, right... right... Those were a weird couple of days.” He tilted his head. “But if I remember correctly, she was pretty thankful afterward. Something about that episode unlocking knowledge inside her mind that helped her in her job?”

“Yes, a massive breakthrough for the Royal Canterlot University’s department of Ancient Studies. And the fame Professor Galindia got from publishing several dozen papers on this language, as well as the sextuple digit donation to her future research projects persuaded her not to press charges against you.”

“See, it all worked out in the end!” When Regelreiter just scowled, he sighed. “Fine, no exotic, mildly cursed flowers for my soon-to-be marefriend. Got it.” He turned towards the door, took a deep breath, and raised his hoof to-

The door opened.

And I already lost the initiative! Blueblood forced himself to smile and looked up at the mare who was now standing in front of him.

His smile faltered the moment his eyes fell onto her horn. Or rather, onto the jagged remains of her horn. “Whu-...” He grimaced, finding himself incapable of looking away. “Whuuuuuu-...” Somehow, it looked much more horrifying now that he was giving it more than just a passing glance. “Whuuuuugh...” The croissant he had eaten earlier was rapidly trying to work its way back up his throat.

Moments before literally vomiting on the mare he was trying to seduce, he managed to look down, settling on a somewhat more dignified minute of dry heaving.

When he came back to his senses, he realized that Tempest was still standing in front of him, giving him a look somewhere between outrage and utter confusion. It’s okay! I can still save this! “Ugh! Your crippled... stump! How can you even live with yourself, knowing that you’re cursed with such a disfigurement? Ewww...” I just have to choose my words carefully; this isn’t even the worst situation I-... wait, am I talking already? “I’ll be doing you a favor by letting you go out with me. You’re probably ashamed to go out alone and-”

Just as he was about to curse himself for his big mouth, Tempest slammed the door shut... and straight into his face. He flinched, but far too late to avoid the blinding pain that came from his muzzle. “MY NOSE!” He briefly considered fainting, but his suddenly increased adrenaline levels overrode that notion. “SHE BROKE MY NOSE!” he snapped at Regelreiter, who was giving him a wide-eyed look.

“You... you’ll be fine,” his aide finally said. “Or... you’ll at least be whatever you normally are.”

“SHE ATTACKED ME!” Blueblood pulled a handkerchief from a hidden compartment of his bowtie and gently touched his bruised nose. When he pulled it away again, he noticed a dark red stain on it. “SHE ATTACKED ME AND I’M ACTUALLY BLEEDING! AND YOU DIDN’T PROTECT ME!”

Regelreiter let out a long sigh, obviously determined to remain calm while his boss was probab-... most like-... definitely bleeding to death. “I’m your aide and not your bodyguard,” he finally replied.

Okay... point, he silently admitted, as much as it pained him to do so. Refusing to concede the point verbally, he instead turned to face the two stallions who had been standing behind him the entire time. “THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU TWO PROTECT ME?”

The two Royal Guards looked at each other. Finally, the slightly stronger looking one of the two shrugged. “We were mostly dumbfounded that you’d say something this crass right to her face, Your Highness.”

The smaller guard nodded. “Yes. Also, with all due respect, but... you had that coming, Sir.”

“I WHAT?” A part of him took pleasure in seeing two grown and armored stallions flinching under his verbal assault, but a larger part was still exasperated by their words.

“They’re saying you deserved this,” Regelreiter chimed in, making him whirl around. “And... yeah, you absolutely deserved this.”

“I DID NOT!”

“You totally did.”

“SHE’S A CRIPPLE WHO KEEPS ATTACKING ME WHILE I’M SEDUCING HER!”

The bulkier stallion gawked. “...that was you seducing her?”

“YES!” Well, strictly speaking... no. But I would have gotten there eventually.

There was a moment of silence as Regelreiter considered this. Blueblood used the slight break to gently wipe some more blood from his nose. “Wow. You’re... actually terrible at this!”

“I’ll admit I’m not entirely used to seducing a mare who is-” Horribly disfigured and evil. “-not already infatuated with me... or my title at least,” he muttered and gave the blood-soaked handkerchief a look. I should just call it quits, tell the guards to firebomb Tempest’s room, and go to the nurse’s office again. Maybe grant her the chance to date a royal, if just to work with somepony again who actually appreciates such an opportunity. “So, as somepony who thinks he can just go around and criticize dating approaches, what do you suggest I do?”

Regelreiter rolled his eyes and groaned; he knew Blueblood’s belittling tone far too well. “I don’t know... how does an apology sound?”

“Wha-...” He shook his head, only to stop when the motion made him dizzy. Right. I definitely need to go to the nurse’s office afterward. Date and firebombing optional. “You want me to apologize? Me?”

“Well, you-”

“I’m a Prince of Equestria! Royalty! We don’t apologize to commoners!”

“Well, she’s an ambassador, so you could justify it as diplomacy if you’re actually this unwilling to do the decent thing.”

You know all too well that she is not an ambassador! Blueblood had not mastered any sort of telepathy spell yet (and would likely never do so), so he had to hope that his dark look would convey at least a rough approximation of his thoughts.

Regelreiter shrugged at that, as if trying to tell him something along the lines of, “You’re not supposed to know that!”

Blueblood gritted his teeth. “Fine,” he hissed. “Diplomacy, then. But I’m not apologizing.” Before Regelreiter had a chance to complain, he knocked at the door.

The good news was that Tempest did open the door. The bad news was that she was apparently still angry. “What.”

Just don’t look at her horn, just don’t look at her horn, just don’t look at her horn... He tried to make eye contact without accidentally looking too far up. “Miss Shadow!” he greeted her and faked a smile. “I shall ignore your attack on me just now in the spirit of beneficial-...” He suddenly frowned. “Wait, is there still blood on my muzzle? Gosh, I must look horrible...”

Tempest Shadow slowly narrowed her eyes. A detached part of Blueblood noted that she managed to say a lot with just the smallest of gestures. “What do you want?” she asked, making no effort to conceal the fact that she was still holding on to the door, ready to slam it shut again at a moment’s notice.

“I have come in the spirit of peace,” he started, drawing inspiration from a speech he had prepared for a mission to the Griffon Empire that had ended up being unnecessary when the tensions at the time had once again ebbed. “Let bygones be bygones! I am ready to start a new chapter - together with you! Just you and I, talking things over and making amends as equals!” He hesitated. “Well... not exactly as equals because... well, I’m a royal and you’re not... but close!” Great opening, could’ve used some more work in the ending. Oh well, still should’ve been enough.

She raised an eyebrow at that, but at least didn’t immediately shoot him down. Finally, she simply nodded at the other ponies. “Is that why you brought your armed guards and your secretary along?”

No, they’re here to arrest you and act as credible witnesses. He tried not to smirk at that. “He’s not my secretary, but my lawyer,” he finally chose to clarify, acting on a hunch on where to take this talk.

“...that’s even weirder.”

“I’m his aide,” Regelreiter counter-clarified.

“An aide with a law degree,” Blueblood shot back.

“See? Aide.” They both grinned at this.

“And the guards,” Blueblood continued to explain, “are... for my... protection.” I should’ve thought of a better excuse in advance!

“Protection?” Tempest immediately asked. “From what?”

There was an awkward silence as Blueblood frantically considered his options. Finally, he adjusted his mental script for this talk once again. “From all potential threats. Including you.”

Tempest’s eyes widened at that. Behind him, the guards audibly shifted their weight, sensing that this situation was about to go from “diplomatic blunder” to “accidental declaration of war” levels of failure. After a few seconds, Tempest exhaled slowly and made a show of leaning out of her room to check for more guards. “...just these two lawn ornaments?” she finally asked. “Not sure if I should feel insulted.”

Heh... “Lawn ornaments?” He let out a fake gasp. “Excuse me, but these are two Royal Guards. They are among the best of the best of the best. I could send one of them to fetch me a coffee and still feel adequately protected.”

She blinked. “Okay, now I’m definitely feeling insulted.”

Good, good, now I just have to maintain the initiative. “Ha!” He waved his hoof dismissively. “Every Royal Guard knows at least two forms of unarmed combat and is proficient in using at least three weapons!”

“Not simultaneously,” Regelreiter added quietly. “Assertion void in St. Cloppington.”

Blueblood’s smile briefly froze in place. “Lawyers,” he finally muttered. “Ahem, where was I... oh, right!” He cleared his throat and took careful note of the tiny hint of a smile he could see on her face. “With even just one of them by my side, you wouldn’t be able to-”

“Actually, I don’t,” the shorter guard interrupted him, then flinched under Blueblood’s glare.

Uppity guards, I don’t believe it! He made a mental note to give the Captain an earful after he visited the nurse. “Pardon me?” he finally asked after making an effort to hide most of his irritation.

“I don’t,” the guard repeated his words once he was sure that his coworker had no intention to kill him out of mercy.

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t... Your High-”

“VERBS!” There was a moment of silence as everybody stared openly at the exasperated royal. Okay, that was not strictly necessary, but I’m not used to GUARDS INTERRUPTING ME AND-

His descent into an entirely justified hissy fit was cut off by a low laugh. “Ah, it’s so hard to find good minions who know not to interrupt a dramatic monologue,” Tempest mused and flashed the four stallions a lazy smile. “Luckily, bad minions are a bit a dozen, and chucking one or two overboard is a wonderful teaching moment.“

Overboard? What is this, a cruise ship? Blueblood blinked. “Yes... thank you!” he finally said and nodded. “A bit more drastic than I would have put it, but at least somepony here understands that guards should speak only when spoken to.” He directed a pointed look at the two guards, who did their best to avoid eye contact for the time being.

“Unless it’s an emergency,” Regelreiter added.

“Well, yes. Which this wasn’t.” Blueblood took a deep breath. “Now. What was it you were trying to say?” he asked the guard.

The two guards exchanged looks, as if silently debating whether or not to further engage the royal they had cheesed off. “I... don’t know two forms of unarmed combat and three weapon skills, Your Highness,” the shorter one finally replied.

“You don’t?” He blinked. “Why not? I thought this was standard training for all guards.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably. “I’m a translator.”

“You’re... a translator,” Blueblood repeated slowly, his script to seduce the mare behind him long forgotten.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

He gave Regelreiter a look, but the larger stallion was looking just as baffled as he was. “...no offense to your profession, but why did the Captain think it would be a good idea to send you along for this assignment?” What is he going to do when I order him to arrest Tempest? Call for backup in Prench while she breaks his legs?

“You’re one of Equestria’s highest-ranking diplomats,” the guard said, even though his tone suggested that this had indeed been a good question, “so... I suppose I’m here in case you need something translated in a diplomatic encounter?”

This is somehow both stupid and brilliant at the same time, Blueblood silently admitted but kept the thought to himself. “But... I’m just talking to her. Are you here just on the off-chance that she insults me in some foreign language?”

“Well, if she did, it would be awkward if you didn’t have a translator at hoof.”

“She probably doesn’t even know any foreign languages.”

“Wie komme ich von hier zum Bahnhof?” Tempest asked, and Blueblood decided that he liked her angry tone more than her smug one.

“...okay, I obviously stand corrected.” He sighed theatrically, but his mind was racing as it made notes about Tempest’s apparent skills and how to get his mission back on track. Keep track of what she can do; don’t reveal what you can do. That way, you can stay one step ahead of her. “What did she say?”

The guard was looking happy but wisely chose not to gloat. “She asked how-”

“She called your mother an elk.”

Three heads abruptly turned towards Regelreiter. “She WHAT?” Blueblood asked.

“No, she didn’t!” the guard pleaded, but the bulkier stallion merely chortled.

“I wish to point out that she spoke in my first language,” he said and pointed at the guard, “whereas you don’t even know that guy’s name.”

I don’t know the names of any guard, Blueblood silently clarified the statement. Well, except for Shining Armor, but he’s not a guard anymore, so there. He looked from his aide to the translator guard, then back. “...why are you trying to provoke a confrontation?”

“Two reasons.” Regelreiter smiled knowingly. “First of all, at this rate, you’re learning more about this guard than about the lady you wanted to ask out.”

Blueblood blinked at that. What does he mean with-... No, he’s right. I was focusing too much on this guy. I did gain some insight into what Tempest can do, but... yes, I did get a little too caught up in this matter. “A... fair point,” he conceded. “And the other reason?”

“The second reason is that I would love you to pick a fight with her, even if just to see if she can deck you before the guards can interfere.” Regelreiter was grinning openly now. “I missed yesterday’s spectacle, so this is my chance for a repeat performance.”

Tempest slowly raised her hoof, as if asking for permission to speak. “This might be a good time to point out that I’m trying to be a good and non-violent pony,” she said carefully, but her confident look betrayed her tone. “So, as much as I want to punch you right now, I know I shouldn’t do it.”

Well, obviously. Punching me would dispel the illusion you’re trying to maintain. Let’s play along - I think I’m starting to see how to work her, and these talkative guards will help me. “Actually, feel free to try!” He gave her a wide grin. “I have nothing to fear, so you have my complete blessing! In front of witnesses, I take full responsibility for any hits you manage to land!” He ignored the way the guards gasped. “Because, you see, even if one of them is primarily working as a translator, you are looking at the guards who defended the nation against Nightmare Moon!”

“Actually,” the translator reliably spoke up, apparently taking this blatant falsehood as permission to interrupt him once again. “Princess Twilight did most of the heavy lifting there. We mostly handled crowd control.”

“...ah.” Blueblood pretended to be mildly set back by this. “Well, they defended the nation against Discord and sealed him back in stone!”

“That... was also Princess Twilight’s doing,” the bigger guard corrected him.

“We kept the general populace at bay,” the translator added.

“How about the Changeling Queen?”

“Princess Twilight.”

“And Princess Cadance.”

Blueblood looked from them to Tempest, making sure that she was looking amused. “King Whatever up north?”

“Princess Cadance.”

“And Princess Twilight.”

“Plunder vines and the kidnapping of the royal sisters?” Come to think of it... this kingdom gets into a LOT of trouble...

“Princess Twilight.”

“Tirek?”

“Princess Twilight.”

“...I’m starting to see a pattern,” he finally conceded. And said pattern is that this kingdom needs better security. “Where is Princess Twilight right now?” Not that I need a reminder, given that we just got told about her whereabouts yesterday. But let’s establish a mild case of bad memory on my side, if only to lower expectations.

“Visiting the hippogriffs on a mission of friendship.”

“Huh.” He rubbed his chin as if considering this. “...okay, on second thought, don’t punch me,” he finally told Tempest, who was smirking openly by now.

“Only because you asked nicely,” she replied.

Okay, she seems pleased enough. “So. Since we’re past the violence stage, how about lunch? My treat, of course!”

She blinked at that, but then laughed softly. “Sure, why not? Come and pick me up whenever.” And with that, she closed the door slowly, giving him plenty of time to not get hit by it again.

“Looking forward to it,” Blueblood whispered, making sure that his smile wasn’t too wide.

Tempest closed the door, then, once she heard its reassuring click, leaned heavily against it and exhaled slowly. Did I just...?

She played back the memory of the last few minutes to make sure that she hadn’t misread the Prince’s intentions. Did he just...?

“Are we actually going to go out? Together?” She frowned, considering whether to add one critical question to the pile. “Like some sort of date?” She wanted to laugh at the notion, but the noises that came out of her throat were closer to a deranged hiccup than her usual, slightly condescending laugh.

Okay, so... date? Lunch date? Date and lunch? Maybe? She allowed herself a smile. No idea why he would even talk to me after all that had happened yesterday, but... well, Princess Twilight and Princess Celestia forgave me worse things, and he is a royal, so... maybe that’s kind of their “thing?”

She nodded to herself. “Prolly just him being polite,” she whispered. “But I can do this. Quick lunch. Small talk. Pretend that nothing ever happened. Get a confirmation that no assault charges are going to be pressed. Move on.”

Her calm self-confidence lasted less than five seconds. “No, I can’t do this!” She whined and pushed herself away from the door. “I wasn’t trained for this! I wasn’t trained for diplomacy and being nice and flirt-... friendly small talk! This stuff never came up with the Storm King! Infiltration, explosions, violence, military maneuvers, sure! But lunch?” She started to pace. “I have no experience! No plan! No time to assemble and brief a backup team! ...I have nothing to wear!”

There was a pause.

A long pause.

“...did I actually just say that?” she finally asked herself and grimaced. “Did I seriously just descend into girly-girl mode because of... what? Because of some guy who managed to be moderately charming for two minutes after nearly losing his breakfast at the mere sight of my horn? Am I really this desperate for... company? For companionship?”

She huffed angrily. “No, I’m not!” Then she quickly looked over her shoulder, as if to make sure that nopony had snuck in. “Okay... maybe? A bit?” She dragged herself back onto her bed and sighed. “...what-”

“-just happened?” Regelreiter gestured at the door, then at Blueblood, then back at the door. “She slammed a door in your face! And less than five minutes later, she agrees to a lunch date?”

Blueblood allowed himself a quiet laugh. “I didn’t get the job of one of Equestria’s top diplomats through nepotism.” Well, okay, not just through nepotism, he quietly added. “Reading ponies and making them like me is part of my job description.” He hesitated. “Also, I’m handsome and charming, and I just promised her free lunch.”

Regelreiter frowned, as if considering which points to challenge. “I’m pretty sure she’s been getting free lunches for the last couple of days,” he finally pointed out.

“Heh.” Blueblood signaled him to follow him down the corridor. “Come on, I need to get ready for my big date!”

“What about the flowers?”

He gave him a confused look. “What flow-...” He looked down at the flowers he had apparently dropped when the door had smacked him in the face. Oh. Right. The flowers I meant to give to her. He blinked, then shrugged, his smile long forgotten. “Don’t care. If one of the guards wants them, he can have them. Speaking of guards, you two can report back to the Captain. Tell him that I want two guards at my side who actually have a chance to take down a threat instead of starting an argument with me when I least need it.”

The guards exchanged quick looks, then nodded solemnly. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Forgive us, Your Highness.” And with that, they picked up the flowers and left.

Blueblood huffed, then led the way down the corridor. “I swear, I’m going to court-martial the Captain if he casually risks my safety like that again.”

“I think he had good intentions when he sent that translator to help you.”

“And I think both you and he forgot that I speak five languages at a conversational level,” Blueblood hissed.

“I know that you only require a translator for negotiating contracts and treaties,” Regelreiter said. “After all, that’s how we met.” He smirked. “Aber ich weiß auch, dass Sie den Weg zum Bahnhof nicht kennen.”

“Very funny,” Blueblood lied, careful to leave his point unaddressed. “Just meet me here again in an hour - I’d like to have as many witnesses as possible around for this date.” He scowled - this play was already testing his patience, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Tempest or because he was the only one who was taking this seriously. “Let’s see if we can wrap this up before dinner.”

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

The Royal Flowy Thingy and the Royal Gift are part of my royalty headcanon that will be further explored here and in my other fics. Like all of my headcanons, it's probably going to clash with the canon (especially the canon established in the latter seasons, which I didn't watch), and I probably won't care too much.

"Regelreiter" is the German word for "rules lawyer", with the added bonus of having sort of a horse pun built right in.

Galindian is an extinct language, and very little is apparently known/documented about it - its Wikipedia entry is basically just a single line long.

The German parts are just "How do I get to the train station?" and "But I also know that you don't know the way to the train station."

Petty warfare

Breath mints. Twenty-minute grooming session for the perfect coat and mane. Reservations in his favorite restaurant. Arrangements for a royal chariot. Bribing the weather ponies on duty to arrange for a perfectly sunny day.

When he put his mind to it, Blueblood could get a lot done in less than an hour.

Okay, he thought as he made his way down the corridor, I made sure that this would be the perfect lunch date. Now all I need is some charm, a confession, and a cell in the Canterlot maximum security complex. He absentmindedly knocked at Regelreiter’s door as he walked past it. Usually, aides - or lawyers - didn’t get VIP suites in the royal palace, but Blueblood had wanted to make sure that Regelreiter would live the best life possible while under the prince’s employ. Although that decision backfired spectacularly yesterday - not only is he now living a few doors away from a literal enemy of the state, but I just had to insist on walking him to his quarters yesterday! Still, if it hadn’t been for this uncharacteristic act of kindness, who knew when he would have realized what Tempest Shadow was up to?

“Looking mighty fine, boss,” Regelreiter commented after hurrying out of his room.

“Of course I do.” Blueblood huffed. “I need everything to be perfect.”

“Guards even polished their armor, nice.”

Blueblood gave the two stallions behind him a curt nod over his shoulder. “They also look strong, and they have been briefed to keep their mouths shut.”

“Ah, that’s... good,” Regelreiter said with little conviction. Something was bothering him, but what else was new?

They stopped in front of Tempest’s suite. Blueblood knocked and put on his most seductive smile. Showtime.

“Prince Blueblood!” Tempest yanked open the door with way too much force, grinning in a way that looked equal parts nervous and forced.

Blueblood barely refrained from smirking. She is out of her depth already! Perfect! “Miss Shadow, you look splendid!” he lied, taking care not to stare at the remains of her horn.

She gave him a confused stare before blinking. “Oh! Ah, thanks...?” She frowned. “You somehow look even better than an hour ago.”

“I give my best.” Unlike you. He smiled warmly. “Shall we?”

Her smile froze for a second. “Right. Right. Just... let me grab my coat.”

Her coat? Has she looked outside recently? It’s a perfect summer day! I paid good money to make sure of it! He was about to point this out when he saw the garment she was about to throw onto her body. “What is THAT!?” he squealed and pointed at what was probably the ugliest, dirtiest, most common piece of fabric in all of Canterlot. He yanked it out of her hooves with a burst of magic and-

The temperature in the room seemed to simultaneously drop and skyrocket as Tempest shot him the most murderous glare he had ever been subjected to. He had, of course, seen plenty of these before, usually after breaking up with his fling of the week. But while plenty of his exes had had the motivation, none of them had had the experience. He took a quick step back and dropped the coat. “Ah, that was a... reflex.” He smiled sheepishly. “No harm done, right?”

Tempest blinked, then snapped out of her murderous rage. “Ah, my bad, sorry. You just startled me.” She started to pick up the coat, then stopped. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s fine, no worries.” He forced a smile. “I just... this is just...” He took a deep breath to calm down. Somehow, dating Tempest was a constant cycle of adrenaline spikes and smooth-talking. “It just looks a bit... ah... pedestrian.”

She gave the garment a look. “Well... yeah.” She shrugged. “That’s the point. It lets me blend in.”

Blueblood blinked. He had heard the words, but somehow, they failed to convey meaning to him. “Blend... in? Why would you want to blend in?”

There was a long pause as they exchanged puzzled looks. “Not everybo-...” She quickly shook her head. “Not everypony is you, Your Majesty.”

“Your Highness,” Blueblood corrected her without thinking.

“I’m not royalty.” She raised an eyebrow.

He blinked, then burst out laughing. “No, that’s my title!” He fought to regain his composure. “Kings and queens are Your Majesty, princes and princesses are Your Highness.”

She frowned for a moment, then groaned and punched the side of her head with enough force that Blueblood briefly worried that she would knock herself out. “Idiot!” she hissed at herself, then cleared her throat. “Right. So. Not everypony is you, Your Highness. Ponies tend to get nervous when they see me, so the coat helps me keep a low profile.”

An undercover disguise! Subterfuge! He nodded, hoping that the guards behind him were keeping track of all the blindingly obvious clues as well. If she keeps incriminating herself like this, I won’t even need a confession! “Well, be that as it may, you will be standing next to me. That is the opposite of a low profile.” He dialed up his charming smile to slightly desperate levels. “Also, I will not be seen with somepony wearing such a mundane garment.”

“...ah.” She didn’t look convinced. At all. In fact, she looked more uncomfortable with each passing second. “Right... right...”

I will never get a confession out of her if she keeps mourning her stupid coat or her precious low profile! I need her to be at ease! He opened his mouth, but even with his entire kingdom at stake, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to wear this atrocity of a coat. “Hnnngh...” Quick! Some sort of compromise! Something that keeps her happy while also preserving my image! “Why... don’t we go shopping for a nicer coat? My treat!”

Regelreiter quietly cleared his throat behind him. “Won’t that collide with your restau-...” He stopped when Blueblood whipped his head around to give him an exasperated look. “Right. I’ll head there to reschedule and meet you in the merchant district. Le Requin de Verre, I presume?” He retreated when Blueblood merely nodded.

HOW HARD IS IT TO TAKE THIS MARE ON A DATE? His smile was looking less convincing by the second.

Tempest’s smile on the other hoof was looking much more genuine now. “Well, I suppose I should say yes before you blow a gasket.”

“Do you derive pleasure from my aggravation?” he couldn’t help but ask as he brushed aside a stray lock of his not anymore perfectly coiffed mane. Twenty minutes of work down the drain. He huffed.

“No,” she answered but didn’t stop smiling. “However, I find it reassuring to see that, fancy title or not, you’re a pony. Just like me.”

A pony just like you? A pony JUST LIKE YOU? He bristled at that. DID SHE REALLY JUST SAY THAT? His smile was completely gone by now. “I am nothing like you!” he snapped. Then, lowering his voice a bit, he added, “I’m more than you’ll ever be.” Tempest’s eyes went wide at this, and Blueblood realized that he had once again wrecked his chances of-

“I apologize.”

Blueblood’s face was stuck somewhere between anger and regret, making him look like he was holding back a really bad sneeze. “You... apologize?”

“I do.” Tempest cocked her head. “It’s a long story, but let’s just say that I had a bad case of déjà vu just now, and I realize that I shouldn’t pretend that I know you.” She shrugged. “Every pony has a story to tell. Princess Twilight was willing to listen to mine, and I’d be honored to listen to yours.”

Oh, she’s good. She’s very, very good. She made me snap, then cast herself as repentant and as some sort of mediator. Clever. He knew that he had just been played. The details and extent were still up in the air, but he was now sure that she must have received diplomatic training similar to his own. Just evil. Evil diplomacy. Yes. He forced himself to calm down and to stand up straight. I need to up my game. At this rate, I won’t have her arrested during lunch. Dinner? Maybe. But this will take focus and all of my diplomatic skills. He smiled. Good. Otherwise, aunt Celestia might think that any old pony could have stopped Tempest. “It’s fine,” he lied. “I shouldn’t have snapped so easily, but I have issues with-...” He waved his hoof. “Ah, I’ll tell you once we settle down for lunch.” Perfect! Tease information, then hold it back. Have her be the one to want something from me! “But before we do that, let’s go shopping.”

She smiled and nodded. “Very well. Lead the way, Your Highness.”

Tempest had not said a word during the entire trip from the courtyard to the Merchant District. Blueblood wasn’t sure if it had been an act or not, but she had looked utterly shellshocked. And when the two pegasus guards who pulled the chariot touched down on the plaza, it was hard to tell who was looking more shocked - Tempest or the crowd around them.

Even without his extensive training, Blueblood would have been able to read the crowd effortlessly. Given that he had dragged out the pony responsible for an extremely recent attack on this very city, he did not blame them for being anxious about Tempest’s presence. He was less sure what Tempest’s issue was, though - she surely wasn’t afraid of a few townsponies seeing her, right?

Showtime. “Good morning, everypony!” he greeted the crowd and gave them his best smile. When it was becoming apparent that Tempest Shadow was not going to be arrested (yet) and that she also wasn’t going to burn down the closest building, some of them smiled and waved back. Still, he could tell that he wasn’t going to win any popularity contests with her by his side. I really need to wrap this up before the end of the day, or it’ll take me weeks just to salvage my reputation!

“Let’s just go,” Tempest whispered, and Blueblood almost literally did a double-take when he heard her tone.

“Please don’t tell me you’re nervous or even scared!” he teased her. Or actually... please do! And then tell me why!

“Never underestimate civilians in masses, especially not when they are feeling threatened or oppressed.” She gave him a look, and his smile once again froze. Her posture suggested fear, but her eyes told a vastly different story. “All it takes is one of them deciding that he really needs to throw a brick at me right now, and you got a medium-sized riot on your hooves.”

Blueblood’s eyes flicked from her to the crowd, then back at her. Finally, he gave her a warm smile. “I believe you don’t give Canterlot enough credit. These ponies have been through hardships before, and they trust the royal family to make the right calls.” He shrugged. “Besides, every single one of them probably received direct or indirect monetary compensation for their struggles.”

“Money can’t buy loyalty.”

“Of course it can.” He started to lead her towards his favorite clothing store, ignoring the incredulous looks his subjects were giving him. “Money can buy anything if you apply enough of it.”

He had his back turned to her, but he could feel her judging look. Never mind. I don’t blame her - she probably never had enough money for a proper bribe and just had to murder all her problems. Which, I’ll admit, is a very efficient strategy once you become good at it. Still, it lacks... elegance. He pushed open the door of Shawl & Peak, gave his two guards a brief command to wait outside, and put on his best smile. “Lapel! How is my favorite tailor doing today?”

The unicorn with the light grey coat and perfectly coiffed black mane behind the counter gave him a slightly too wide smile. It was the smile of a pony who knew he would make a lot of money very soon. Maybe not quite as much as his pinstripe suit would have cost him, had he not made it himself, but still up there.

And then that smile froze. “...Your Highness?”

You are joking. Please tell me you are joking. “Lapel,” he said and gestured behind him, “meet Tempest Shadow. Tempest, meet Lapel Peak, co-owner of Shawl & Peak.” He turned to face her and paused when he saw that she had noticed the frozen smile as well and was likely already calculating the best way to murder everypony in the room. “He is one of the best tailors in all of Canterlot and has never let me down, even when I approached him with last-minute pleas.”

“Pleasure,” Tempest muttered and gave him a slightly forced smile.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha...” Blueblood coughed quietly before deciding to shift the focus to the business side. “Lapel, I require your help. My-” Date? Love? Friend? How daring am I? “-acquaintance requires something nice to-” -cover up at least some of her disfigurements. “-keep her coat warm.”

“What little of it is left,” Lapel muttered.

Wow. Blueblood blinked at that. I mean, he’s not exactly wrong, what with all of her scars, but still, talk about rude. “Just show us what you have in terms of coats. I was thinking about something... maybe a bit subdued. You always have an eye for timeless designs, so you probably-”

“Nothing.”

“-have a better idea than-...” Blueblood blinked. Did he just interrupt me? Then he blinked again. “Did you just say that you have... nothing?”

Lapel Peak took a deep breath as if anticipating that he had crossed a line. Still, he did not back down. “That is correct, Your Highness.”

The discussion was not going in a direction he enjoyed. In fact, the mere existence of a discussion was a clear indicator of that. “But-...” He considered his words. Tried to predict where things were going. Then he pushed. “But what about the designs over there? They look roughly like what I have in mind.”

Lapel didn’t even turn around to look at what Blueblood had pointed at. “Not for sale.”

“Not for-...” He laughed. It was a fake, calculated laugh, and he knew that Lapel knew, just like he knew that he and Lapel were going through pre-calculated motions, racing towards an ugly conclusion. The question was who was going to back off first. “Pardon me, old friend, but is this not a clothing store?”

“It is, Your Highness.” Lapel was looking uncomfortable, but he wasn’t backtracking.

“And am I pointing at clothing here in this clothing store?” Blueblood’s fake smile widened until it was nothing more than a caricature. “Clothing that has price tags dangling from it?”

Lapel took a breath so deep that Blueblood briefly worried that he would pop like a balloon. “I’m very sorry, Your Highness.”

“Don’t be sorry; just make the sale.”

“...no.”

“...no?”

“No.” Lapel’s voice was barely a whisper now, and his eyes focused on something highly interesting on the floor.

“Are you denying me your business, Lapel?”

“No, Your Highness,” Lapel said, sensing a chance to get on Blueblood’s good side again. “I am denying her my business.” He looked back up to meet Blueblood’s eyes, hoping for a smile and finding none.

“Ignoring the fact that denying anypony your business is a highly questionable move, and ignoring the fact that you are doing this to my dear acquaintance, who was invited to stay at the royal palace by Her Royal Highness, Prin-”

“I’m just-”

“-PRINCESS CELESTIA, AND YOU WILL NOT INTERRUPT ME, YOU INSOLENT FOAL!”

Lapel’s eyes went wide at that. “Y-Your Highness, this is a m-matter of principle and-”

“PRINCIPLE?” Blueblood gave him a look that made Lapel glad that only the two royal sisters possessed the power to move celestial bodies at will. “ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?”

“No, he’s not.” The calm voice made both stallions blink. “You’re shooting the messenger.”

“Pardon me?” Blueblood slowly turned to face Tempest before immediately taking a step back. While the crippled unicorn wasn’t looking mad or even particularly angry, there was a fire in her eyes that made his own rage look like a foal’s tantrum.

Tempest slowly stepped closer until she was standing right in front of Lapel, who appeared to be frozen in fear. “I’ve met his type many times before. Diplomats. Negotiators. Even commanders and generals.” She leaned forward, and Lapel leaned back. “Zero conviction. Just doing what he’s been told to do and saying what he’s been told to say.”

Blueblood gasped when he realized that she was right - nothing about Lapel’s demeanor suggested that this had been his idea. “Of course. This isn’t what he wants, but he has to play along.”

“Who is pulling your strings, my little puppet?” Tempest purred.

Lapel gritted his teeth. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because-...” Tempest suddenly frowned. “...actually, that’s an excellent question. This is usually the part where I punch you and then have your store firebombed, but this isn’t who I want to be anymore.” She gave Blueblood a confused look, ignoring the way Lapel almost fainted. “What are our options here?”

Blueblood narrowed his eyes and gave Lapel a dark look. “Little, possibly,” he hissed. “I’ll have to consult with Regelreiter because so far, nopony had been dumb enough to deny me business.”

“I’m not-...” Lapel lamely tried to correct him, but a quick glare from Blueblood silenced him.

“However, let it be known that I am severely disappointed, Lapel.” Blueblood abruptly turned around. “Come, Tempest, let’s pay a visit to Joan of Jacquard. They have an excellent selection of fabrics.”

He heard Lapel opening and then closing his mouth.

“...is there anything you wish to tell me, Lapel?” Blueblood asked without turning around.

“They will also not sell her anything.”

Only now did he turn around. “Who else is in on this, Lapel?”

“Your Highness, if you-”

“WHO ELSE IS BOYCOTTING A PRINCE OF EQUESTRIA, LAPEL?”

Lapel winced, and on some deranged level, Blueblood was happy that he had somehow managed to intimidate him more than Tempest had. “It’s... the guild, Your Highness.”

Blueblood’s eyes went wide at that. “The Tailors’ Guild? The entire Tailors’ Guild is in on this? That’s insane! Are you telling me that nearly every tailor in Canterlot-”

“No,” Lapel whispered.

“That’s better. So it’s only part of the Tailors’ Guild, then?” Which is still horrible and should be outlawed, but this is progress.

“No, Your Highness.” Lapel was clearly bracing himself for the worst. “It’s the Merchants’ Guild.”

“The-” Blueblood did a double-take. “The Merchants’ Guild? As in, the guild that oversees the activities of the various smaller guilds? That’s, what, nine out of ten businesses in all of Canterlot!?”

“Well, your, ah, acquaintance locked down more than that with her army, so...”

Well, yes, but that’s a lesser issue than what she is up to now, and your petty revenge stunt is endangering everything! He gritted his teeth. Also, you received compensation for that! “Fine,” he finally hissed. “Be that way.”

And with that, he charged out of the shop. “REGELREITER!”

His lawyer, who had been chatting with the guards, looked up. “Right here, no need to shout...”

“FOLLOW ME!”

“...what went wrong now?” the Earth pony asked even as he and the two guards jogged to catch up with him.

“What went wrong? WHAT WENT WRONG?” Blueblood boarded his chariot and whistled sharply at the two pegasus ponies strapped to the front of it. “Home!”

Regelreiter and the two guards barely made it onto the moving chariot before it took off into the sky. “Boss, you forgot-”

“HE SAID NO TO ME!” Blueblood roared. “HE! DENIED! ME! BUSINESS!”

“What? Are you serious?” Regelreiter was looking astounded. But then he shook his head as if he had thought of something more important, a notion which Blueblood immediately dismissed. “But could we maybe turn around real fast? Because-”

“NO!?” Blueblood gave him an exasperated look. “WEREN’T YOU LISTENING? I CAN’T JUST GO BACK! NOT AFTER THE HUMILIATION I HAD TO ENDURE!”

“...do you need to keep shouting?”

“YES!” Blueblood blinked. “Well... no,” he finally muttered, deflating slightly. “But-... Lapel Peak denied me business!”

Regelreiter looked into his widened eyes and frowned. “...you’re in shock, I get it,” he finally muttered. “Okay, we can use that as an apology later.”

“Apology?” Blueblood shook his head as if to clear his ears. “APOLOGY? Do you think Lapel deserves an APOLOGY? I need you to prepare a LAWSUIT against him, not an APOLOGY!”

“Well, no, I’m not suggesting you should apologize to that guy.” Regelreiter hesitated. “Or at least I’m not suggesting that until I got the full story out of you.”

“Then who do you think deserves an apology?” Blueblood sneered. “Not even getting into the matter of royalty not apologizing to peasants like Lapel.”

“What about Tempest?”

“What about Tempest? She’s also a peasant, and I literally just said that I wouldn’t apologize to-” He froze when he realized that the four seats in the chariot were occupied by him, Regelreiter, and the two guards. “-TEMPEST!” Why isn’t she here? How did I not realize this? Why did my personal guards insist on-... okay, okay, fine, makes sense for them, but-... ARGH!

“There we go.” Regelreiter let out a quiet sigh. “Shall we turn around?” He waited for a reply. Then, long seconds of silence later, he cleared his throat to address the pegasus guards in front of the chariot. “HEY! WE NEED TO-”

“No.”

Regelreiter gave him a long look. “Are you sure about this?”

“This takes absolute precedence,” Blueblood muttered and immediately held up a hoof when Regelreiter wanted to object. “I will send guards to escort her back once we arrive at the palace. Forgetting her is indeed unfortunate, but the damage is done. I will salvage that later, but in order to take her on a date, I will first need to deal with the Merchants’ Guild. Because they have apparently decreed that they would not let Tempest do business with them, not even indirectly through me.” He gave his aide a dark look. “And I want them to realize that they made a grave mistake.”

“...right.” Regelreiter nodded slowly. He obviously wasn’t entirely convinced that leaving Tempest behind was the best call to make, but he also knew when to stop pushing. “What’s your plan, boss?”

“I want you to research my legal options. In the meantime, I will ask my aunt about her opinion. Our reaction needs to be decisive and swift, but also informed by wisdom.”

“Right, right.” Regelreiter sighed and shook his head wearily. “On the bright side, this wasn’t your most catastrophic first date ever, so I suppose this could have gone worse.”

I suppose this could have gone worse, Tempest thought. Granted, it also could have gone a lot better. Didn’t expect almost all the shop owners to shun me. I mean... sure, I never intended to settle down here, but this might make the transition period even more complicated than it already is. She gave the chariot one last look before it became too small to follow with the naked eye. Of course, the bitter irony is that now I’m stuck in exactly the situation I meant to avoid: out in the open, surrounded by a crowd of ponies who are very well aware that their former oppressor is all alone and “at their mercy.” She narrowed her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly. Let’s see which of these ponies will be the first to play the hero.

“Heh.” The voice was silky-smooth, the tone was arrogant, and the pegasus it belonged to was groomed to perfection. “You look surprised.”

Tempest narrowed her eyes slightly but stopped short of scowling. Rich mare. Trophy wife, model, or just inherited her wealth. Probably never had to lift anything heavier than her comb. A sick part of her envied her perfect look - between the vibrant, light green coat, the striking silver mane, and the likely several thousand bits spent on beauty products, this mare had it all. And she isn’t even modeling for anything - she’s just... shopping, or whatever. She huffed. “Do I?”

The beautiful mare gave her a condescending smile. “He doesn’t love you.”

“...what?” Tempest blinked in confusion.

“You heard what I said.” The pegasus batted her eyelashes. “Or did whatever creature who inflicted all of your deformities also damage your ears?”

The Canterlot elite seems to like using that word. Tempest growled quietly. “I heard the words; they just didn’t make any sense.”

“Oh?” The pegasus laughed, but it was a loud and fake laugh for the other ponies following their exchange from a safe distance. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Tempest shrugged. “Nopony is talking about love here. He just-...” She gestured vaguely. “He just wanted to take me to lunch.”

“Ah.” The condescending smile was back. “Yes. Of course. You keep telling yourself that. But know this: Prince Blueblood does not love you. He never will.”

Tempest frowned, but then her eyes widened. “Ohhh! Are you his marefriend? Or... fiancée, or whatever?”

She wasn’t sure how, but she had hit a nerve - the smile froze ever so slightly. “I’m... not, no. I’m his ex-marefriend.” She paused. “One of several.”

And she is handling it sooo well. Tempest couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m starting to see why.”

The crowd went dead silent, and the pegasus gave her a look as if Tempest had just snapped somepony’s neck right in front of her. “B-beg your pardon?”

Tempest batted her eyelashes, mimicking the way the pegasus had done it. “You heard what I said.” When the pegasus only gawked, she pressed on: “Your sole redeeming quality seems to be that you are pretty. I can imagine you looked amazing at his side. But I’m really not impressed by your personality. All things being equal, I’d rather date a drunken sailor than a pony who-”

The pegasus slapped her.

Tempest froze, her head tilted slightly to the side. Well, now. She blinked. “You’re not my biggest annoyance right now, so I’ll let you have this one as a freebie. Consider yourself lucky and thank the Merchants’ Guild for being a bigger nuisance than you.”

“Tch, you wouldn’t touch me,” the pegasus tested the waters after a slight pause. “What would your dearest Prince Blueblood say if you injured me?”

“Probably that you had it coming,” Tempest muttered. “Though he also has bigger issues than an ex with an attitude problem.” She held up her hoof to cut the banter short. “Look, just walk away. I’m in a bad mood, he’s in a bad mood, so please don’t tempt me - I might just stuff you upside down into a trash can just to see if falling back into old habits makes me feel better.”

“Lace and lycra, what terrible business sense you have!”

Tempest blinked and slowly turned around, taking care to step out of the pegasus pony’s immediate attack radius, just in case. The slap hadn’t hurt, but she hadn’t survived this long by underestimating her opponents. “Excuse me?”

She wasn’t sure what was gaudier - the unicorn’s combination of light blue coat and several bright shades of red, orange, and yellow in her mane or the black lace dress she was wearing. Whatever the case, she was approaching Tempest with a knowing smile and no apparent hesitation. “If you’re good at something, don’t do it for free.”

“Noted,” Tempest said, trying to read the unicorn’s intent. “But I didn’t come here to pick a fight.“

“Probably for the best,” the unicorn replied airily. “This is the shopping district, so there will be little in terms of fighting... unless it’s a summer sale.” She chuckled at her own joke, ignoring the fact that neither Tempest nor the pegasus was laughing with her. “However, that does tell me that you likely came here to expand your wardrobe.”

“...are you just going to ignore me?” the pegasus suddenly protested.

“Oh, you’re still around?” Tempest looked over her shoulder. “That’s kinda pathetic.”

“Time will prove me right! Prince Blueblood will break your heart! And once he does, don’t come crying to me!”

“Hold that thought,” Tempest told the unicorn and turned back around. “Okay, I’ll break it down for you. First of all, I’m not interested in romance. And a stallion like Prince Blueblood surely wouldn’t consider a romantic relationship with me. I literally punched the guy in the face yesterday, for crying out loud!” She made a quick gesture to cut off the inevitable questions. “And finally, I’m not the kind of pony who would cry because her precious heart was broken. Got that? I didn’t cry when my boss betrayed me and told me that he wouldn’t cure this-” She angrily pointed at her broken horn, making the pegasus wince. “-so what makes you think I’d cry when some guy tells me he found a prettier pony than me?” She rolled her eyes at the stunned pony and turned back to the unicorn. “Sorry about that. Where were we?” She frowned briefly. “Oh right, something about buying clothes. I presume you have something to offer if you go out of your way to talk to me?”

The unicorn smiled widely. “Why don’t you come with me? None of the ponies in a two-block radius will give you even the time of day - all stores here are connected to the Merchants’ Guild.”

Under normal circumstances, a stranger coming out of nowhere and asking Tempest to follow her was a surefire sign that there was an ambush waiting for her. Well, either way, my situation improves dramatically. “And you’re not with them, I gather?” She motioned for the unicorn to lead the way.

“Ah, being a member of the Guild would have its advantages, but their rules are hard to reconcile with my boss’s rules.” The unicorn led her away from the plaza. The pegasus was shouting something, but Tempest had already tuned her out. “And if in doubt, following Rarity is the smart decision.”

“Rarity?” Tempest did a double-take at that. “Your boss is called Rarity? As in, unicorn, white coat, purple mane, likes to get chased all around the country with her buddies?”

“She spoke highly of you, so I considered it my duty to help you out by offering my services!”

She spoke highly of me? Tempest knew that Princess Twilight and her adventuring party considered her a friend, but this seemed like a step further, somehow. “Right, speaking of services, this might be a good time to mention that I’m short on cash. So unless being Rarity’s friend gives me a MASSIVE discount, I’m afraid-”

“DISCOUNT!?” the unicorn screeched, then burst out laughing when Tempest jumped slightly. “Ha! Sorry, always wanted to do that.”

“You’re funny,” Tempest lied and put on her best serious face. “I’ll be sure to chisel that onto your gravestone, right under your name.” She huffed. “Speaking of which, what is your name?”

“Gunmetal gingham! If you have the funds to buy me a gravestone, you can afford to shop!” The unicorn flashed her a grin. “The name’s Sassy Saddles,” she finally said and held out her hoof. When Tempest shook it, she gestured at one of the shops down the streets. “And I manage Canterlot Carousel! Do note that it’s not called Canterlot Charity, even if Rarity is the Element of Generosity.”

“...she’s the what of what now?” Tempest blinked. Her preparation for the invasion hadn’t covered much about Princess Twilight’s friends, much less about anything about elements.

“Between you and me,” Sassy leaned closer and lowered her voice, even though nopony had been following them, “I never got the full story myself.” She pulled back. “But it sounds great, doesn’t it?”

“Sure... sure...” Tempest tilted her head. This pony either loved to hear herself talk, or Canterlot ponies in general were just into this kind of empty talk. “Look, you’re a nice pony and all that jazz, but could we level about the whole money situation here before you drag me into your store and bombard me with more small talk?”

Sassy blinked, and Tempest could almost hear the gears in her head not moving. “What money situation?”

“I don’t have any, WERE YOU-...” Tempest forced herself to relax. She had dealt with armies before, so why were a couple of shopkeepers pushing her to her breaking point? “Were you not listening?” she hissed.

“I was, I was, no need to shout...” Sassy shrugged. “But you don’t need money, do you?” When Tempest just gave her a long look of non-understanding, she shrugged. “You’re the mare, and you’re dating Prince Blueblood.”

“I’m not-”

“So guess where I’m going to send the bill.”

Tempest froze. “...you will send a bill I racked up to His Royal Highness, Prince Blueblood, Palace Garden Street 1-184, Canterlot?”

“...that’s not the address of the palace,” Sassy corrected her slowly. “You’re lucky it’s hard to miss, or you wouldn’t find your way around!” When Tempest was visibly struggling to hold back a nervous breakdown, she laughed lightly. “But yes, I will. Did you not arrive with him on a golden chariot, pulled by two of Canterlot’s most noble steeds?”

“It wasn’t-”

“And I guess Prince Blueblood was going to pay for your wardrobe when you went to Merino & Macrame?”

“The shop was called-”

“So yes, I’d say Prince Blueblood will happily pay for his date’s wardrobe!”

“We’re not-”

“Come along now, let’s get you dressed!”

“Ugh,” Tempest muttered even as she followed Sassy to the store. “This is going to end in-”

“-paperwork, as usual,” Princess Celestia muttered and eyed the stack of paper one of her accountants had just carted in. “How much of this is urgent?”

The accountant, a middle-aged unicorn, frowned as he tried to read her mood. “Well, per standard protocol, nothing in here has to be processed today,” he said, “to allow for the occasional invasion of Canterlot, absence of both rulers, or other emergencies.”

“As it happens occasionally,” Celestia added drily and rolled her eyes. “Right, so, barring an emergency, I suppose we need to get started.” She held her breath, then let it out after a few seconds when nothing exploded.

“Very well, let us begin with-”

The enormous double doors were flung open with much more force than necessary. “AUNT!” Blueblood shouted as he marched into the throne room, utterly unfazed by the guards around him who were torn between preventing a pony from causing a scene and not angering an already aggravated royal. “I REQUIRE ADVICE!”

“You are late!” Celestia said and tried not to smile. And when she failed, she at least tried not to smile too widely. “Is it an emergency?”

“Yes!” Blueblood snapped, then paused when he finally realized that he had charged into a meeting. “I mean... sort of. Is this important?” He gestured at the papers.

The accountant hesitated, then sighed. “I suppose it can wait, Your Highness.“

“Very good, very good.” Her nephew waited until the accountant moved himself and the pile of paper out of their immediate vicinity. “Today, I was denied business!” he finally hissed.

I see we are defining “emergency” rather loosely today. “I see,” she conceded slowly. “Without attempting to allocate blame... may I ask about the events leading up to that moment?”

Blueblood smiled through gritted teeth, and Celestia suddenly realized that he was much angrier than she had anticipated. “I did nothing,” he hissed. “It’s Tempest Shadow!”

Oh, no. “What... what did she do?” Easy. Relax. No guards or advisors have stormed into the throne room, there were no explosions, and- Her eyes briefly flicked to her left to peek out through the window. -nothing seems to be on fire.

“She has the audacity to exist.” He huffed. “That’s apparently enough. Lapel Peak wouldn’t sell her a coat. And he wouldn’t even sell ME a coat to give to her!”

“...ah.” Celestia gritted her teeth. She felt reminded of Luna’s reformation, which had been a significant PR effort. However, the case of a henchmare whose forces had occupied the city for three days with zero casualties had looked much more straightforward on paper. Especially after I allocated sizable funds to be used as restitution. “Well, you need to understand that there will always be some shopkeepers who-...” She stopped talking when Blueblood was giving her a look that made his earlier one look tame. Even worse, he wasn’t shouting. That had apparently happened earlier, and now, she had to talk an intelligent and calculating pony with considerable power out of doing something foolish. “It’s not just Lapel, is it?”

“It’s the Merchants’ Guild.”

Celestia had to hold back an uncharacteristic curse and instead took a very deep breath. The sole reason why I’m alive and well is that Tempest embraced the concept of friendship. And now, the entire Merchants’ Guild is trying to undo all of that out of spite? Ungrateful lot - I had hoped they’d be better than that. “I see,” she whispered.

“Yes.” Blueblood started to pace. “Regelreiter is already checking the law situation, but I figured you would know best what my options are.”

“You mean what your options are as a royal as opposed to a regular citizen?”

“Yes.”

Celestia thought about this for a moment. “None, essentially. At least nothing that can be done easily or in the short term.” She gave him a chance to curse, but he simply huffed. “Tempest can, of course, file a lawsuit over discrimination, but that may take months to resolve. Even with mild pressure from us, we would be talking about weeks. And the royal family, as rulers of this nation, can always bring stronger laws or even penalties to the table, but those will also take weeks or even months to draft, balance and negotiate.”

“I feared as much...” Blueblood let out a long breath, his anger giving way to a weary expression. “But-...” It took him several attempts to gather himself. “I am in need of your wisdom, aunt Celestia,” he finally whispered. “I’m at a loss here - Lapel humiliated me, and my date with Tempest is dead in the water!”

“Well, you came here, supposedly before ordering this shopkeeper to be arrested.” Celestia smiled. “That’s a very promising start, befitting both a royal and one of Equestria’s highest-ranking diplomats.” When he gave her a genuine, if tired smile, she led him to the window overlooking the city and - more importantly - the shopping district. “We established what Tempest and what we as royals can do. Both are valid routes, but they are long shots. The guild knows that. They are willing to engage us on these fronts, and even if we win the war, they will have made their point in this battle.”

“I presume there is an angle that hasn’t been covered?”

“That is correct.” Celestia gave him a mischievous look. “You have also been wronged today when you got into the crossfire.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Well, yes,” he finally allowed, trying to catch up with her. “But I don’t have stronger standing in a lawsuit than Tempest. And you established that-...” He frowned when Celestia merely rolled her eyes.

“I’m not talking about justice here,” she told him. “Justice takes time. Justice can end up as a casualty once enough lawyers get involved in the battle.” She gave him a grin that had made kings cry. “I’m talking about revenge.”

“Even Tempest didn’t want to firebomb the shop, so I feel that that’s a line we shouldn’t cross, either.”

I would have preferred it if that hadn’t even crossed her mind as an option. Still, that is progress. “Oh please, what would that even do? The shops are massively insured, so we would just make him look like a victim, he’d rebuild his shop, and he’d probably have more money than before. No, my dearest nephew, it’s time that you consider the power you wield.”

He considered her words for long seconds before finally shaking his head. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. Didn’t we establish that we don’t have power over them?”

“No,” Celestia said and slowly led him from the window to her throne. “We established that there is no short-term policy fix to force them to reverse their position.” She sat down and gave him her best enigmatic smile. “The actions of the Merchants’ Guild are petty. These ponies wanted to make a point and flex their power. Now consider how you can do the same.”

Blueblood frowned deeply, and Celestia appreciated the irony of the situation - typically, he excelled at being petty while she would urge him to consider a more professional path. After long seconds, he shook his head. “As much as I would love to, I do not see how.”

Celestia beamed. “Then allow me to demonstrate.” She cleared her throat, making every pony in the room aside from Blueblood stand ever so slightly more at attention. “Melody Delivery?”

One of the servants, a young unicorn with a dark red coat and a light brown mane that was neatly trimmed into a bob cut, approached them quickly. “Yes, Your Highness?” she asked timidly and gave them her best smile.

“I believe we require the opinion of my sister,” Celestia said airily, ignoring the way Melody’s smile was freezing in place so hard she briefly worried about the poor mare getting a cramp. “Please retrieve the Royal Airhorn and wake her up.”

“I-...” Melody took a short step back before minding her manners. “But-...” Her voice had gone up a full octave already. “You mean right now...?” she finally croaked.

“Well... yes, of course.” Celestia feigned surprise. “Was I not clear on that?”

“It’s-... I mean-...” Melody gestured this way and that. “Princess Luna has probably had less than an hour of sleep by now, so-...”

“So what?” Celestia waved her hoof impatiently. “You have your orders.”

Melody took a step backward, stopped, raised her hoof to protest, stopped again, and finally took a deep breath to-

“Stop!” Celestia snapped, and Melody froze in place, eyes wide. “Blueblood! What is she going to say?”

Blueblood gave her a look, then stole a glance at the poor servant. “I believe you are still allowed to breathe,” he finally whispered, making Melody gasp in relief. “And... hm.” He tilted his head, mulling over Celestia’s question. “I believe that Aunt Luna values a good nigh-... er, day’s sleep. The last time you sent over some poor stallion with the Royal Airhorn, she chucked him out of the window.” He paused. “Granted, she later claimed to have known that you had sent a pegasus, but between the two of us, I believe she was lying.” Finally, he gave Melody a long look. “She would have quit her job had you not interrupted her. Her position comes with good pay, but it’s not high enough to cover this sort of stress.”

“Excellent!” Celestia cheered before gently motioning Melody to return to her place. “Don’t worry, dear, I’m not sending you.” Melody Delivery tried to laugh in relief but only ended up hiccuping nervously. “On second thought, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I believe you’ve had your share of adrenaline for the day.”

“Th-thank you, Your Highness,” Melody stammered before swaying in the general direction of one of the throne room’s side doors.

Blueblood gave her a bemused look. “Entertainment value aside, what was the point of this exercise?”

“To show you that even a lowly maid wields a certain amount of power over an alicorn.”

“The power to quit?” Blueblood shrugged, but Celestia could tell that his mind was still racing. “I mean, that’s a fair point, but Lapel isn’t my employer. Our business relationship is one between businesspony and custom-...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened.

She smiled down at him. “The only question, my dear nephew, is how far you are willing to go with this.”

He gave the window a look and narrowed his eyes. “When these ponies look at me, they see a naive, rich brat. Bags of money on four legs, chasing skirts and wasting it all on flowers and restaurant bills to charm whichever fancy mare is in reach. They have seen me do this so often; they believe that what I feel for Tempest is just a short-lived phase before I move on.”

Are they wrong? Celestia wisely held her tongue.

“They believe that I will give her up just to get back in their good graces.”

“But you won’t.” It was meant to be a question, but she corrected her delivery at the last moment.

“They don’t understand.” Blueblood looked at her, but he wasn’t really looking at her. “They don’t understand... what this means to me. Tempest... Tempest gave my life a purpose. This here... all of this... it’s bigger than me. Bigger than what I’ve been doing with my life so far.” He shook his head. “It might pain me to do so, but I will take this as far as I have to.” He nodded slowly, then more enthusiastically as he slowly seemed to return to the here and now. “I will prove that I stand firmly by her side. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health... until death do us part.” He chuckled at a joke only he appeared to be privy to. Then he turned to the door and marched off. “Thank you, aunt! Your wisdom has proven to be invaluable as always!”

“You’re welcome, Blueblood!” Celestia said, her smile barely masking her look of complete shock. When the enormous double doors had closed behind him, she almost literally jumped out of her throne. “Bring me the Royal Airhorn!” she snapped. “I need my sister to tell me if this actually just happened or if I’m asleep and she is messing with my dreams.”

Blueblood marched into the War Room without bothering to knock. Of course, it wasn’t the palace’s actual War Room but rather a private study chamber in the Royal Library. But it was the room where he and Regelreiter had prepared all of their important and-slash-or audacious paperwork in the past, so it was obvious that he would be here now as well.

“Give me another hour,” Regelreiter muttered without looking up from his books. “So far, I just got the obvious bases for lawsuits and a few things relating to honor duels.” He frowned. “Kinda weird that some of these are actually still a thing. They sound fairly savage, to be frank.”

“Well, don’t worry, I do not plan to engage anypony in an actual fight.”

“She might.”

“That is fair,” Blueblood conceded. “But you can stop looking for obscure loopholes this one time.”

That did make Regelreiter look up. “Did Princess Celestia have a suggestion?”

“Yes. It’s an ugly solution, but I believe she was correct when she told me that sometimes, it’s important to make a point.” When his lawyer merely raised an eyebrow at that, Blueblood sighed. “Look up all my open shopping orders. Leave out the ones that are for businesses not covered by the guild.” He narrowed his eyes. “Then cancel them.”

Regelreiter’s eyes went wide at that, and he cursed under his breath. “Are you sure about that?” he finally asked. “I mean, you have ordered a lot. Especially in the area of formal suits for galas and high-profile negotiations.”

“Yes.”

“Several of these orders are for next year. Some are even further in advance.” He gestured, then groaned when Blueblood remained stoic. “I mean, by then, this whole Tempest situation will be something few ponies will even remember.”

“This isn’t about Tempest,” Blueblood said, giving Regelreiter a pointed, if weary, look. He briefly wondered how high-adrenaline ponies like Tempest or the Wonderbolts made it through any given day. “This is about the principle of it. The Merchants’ Guild was willing to insult me in their petty quest to pick a fight with Tempest, and that will not be forgotten.” He leaned in closer, and Regelreiter immediately leaned back without thinking. “I will show them that they picked on the wrong pony.”

“Right...” Regelreiter nodded slowly, likely realizing that this was not something Blueblood was willing to discuss constructively. “I know where the orders are stored. Give me ten minutes or so to have somepony fetch them. How do you want to do this? Mail? A flock of carrier pigeons?”

Blueblood laughed quietly at the mental image but shook his head. “That is far too sane and mundane. They are dealing with a slighted ROYAL!” He grinned and shook one hoof at the sky. Or, in this case, at the ceiling. “I want a GUARD making a PROCLAMATION! Right in front of Hoofies & Stitchies!”

“Shawl & Peak,” Regelreiter corrected him quietly.

“Whatever. Once they declare bankruptcy after I deny them my business, we will buy them out, rename their shop, and then we will make Lapel beg to be allowed to stay as the shopkeeper of Hoofies & Stitchies.” He gave Regelreiter his best sneer. “Because nopony else will be crazy enough to hire the idiot who said no to Prince Blueblood.”

Author's Note

Notes, inspiration, credits:

First of all, a massive thank you to everybody who kept commenting, kudos-ing, and what-else-not, not just for this fic, but any, really. It means the world to me, and I hope I can up my posting cycle at least a tiny bit in the future. :heart:

I feel that this doesn't exactly fulfill the definition "petty warfare", but I liked the term enough that I kept it as a sort-of pun.

Names, names, names! The restaurant name (which apparently means "Glass Shark" or "Shark of Glass") and Melody Delivery come from generator sites. Lapel Peak and Joan of Jacquard are fashion term puns - looking up fashion terms was the hardest part of this chapter.

Related: I unfortunately didn't get to watch Sassy's episode, so if I got her tone wrong... then I'm sorry, but she will feel right at home next to all the other characters I also took extreme liberties with. :rainbowlaugh:

Inversely related: That unnamed, haughty pegasus is not supposed to be any character we know. Which is sort of the point - Blueblood has probably forgotten more ex-marefriends than we will ever meet.

Sassy and Blueblood apparently both follow the Ron Swanson school of getting names wrong on purpose to show disrespect.

Blueblood throwing one of Tempest's iconic lines back at her without even realizing it wasn't entirely planned, but I was quite happy with it. I feel that Blueblood and Tempest are alike in a certain way in that they both are/were not-good ponies whose life paths were set early on, and now they have to work to break out of it, if that makes sense...? Anyway, something to build up on in later chapters.