The Breaking of the Bro Code
The Avant Garde—Songbird Serenade’s private airship—was more of a flying fortress, than just a mere means of transport. A decommissioned warship from the Wonderbolts’ fleet, it bore uncanny resemblance to an eighteenth century Man o’ War, and was the unofficial mobile base of operations for Songbird and her staff. Her many, many staff, it tuned out. Part logistics vessel, part mobile accomodation, the ship was a home away from home to well over a hundred ponies, each of them having a job to help keep the pegastar’s tour running smoothly.
The vessel had been Anton’s home for the past three months, and it had allowed him to see more of Equestria in that time than he ever could have hoped to on his own. Musicals in Manehattan? He’d been there. Brunch in Baltimare? Done that. Margaritas in Mane? He had the T-shirt.
Being a member of Songbird’s entourage—and living the life that came with it—was orders of magnitude better than his previous job as one of Princess Celestia’s administrative staff. Now, instead of pushing paper, he was pushing ponies. Specifically, crazy stalker ponies, as far away from Songbird as possible.
“Ready?” rumbled the slow, deep voice of Black Tie, a thirty year veteran of the bodyguarding business. The dark-coated unicorn’s gaze was obscured by his shades, which reflected back an image of the gleaming deck on which he stood. Behind him, a yellow earth pony with a blue mane nudged a bucket of soapy water along with her snoot. She paid no mind to the training session as she continued to mop, humming tunelessly to herself.
A droplet of sweat running down his forehead, Anton peered at Black Tie through his own set of considerably smaller shades and gave the stallion a solemn nod, despite still desperately trying to recall the contingency plan for dealing with each of the three pony tribes. Incapacitating horns or wings by way of physical contact was completely out of the question—a lesson that had been thoroughly learned in Vanhoover. Anton still cringed at the memory of that poor unicorn stallion twitching in pain near the backstage entrance, cradling his horn in his hooves.
Apparently, horns emblazoned with magic were rather sensitive, and tended to give their owners quite a bit of trouble when met with a solid left hook from a five foot eight, bipedal alien. Songbird herself had had to step in and personally apologise on that one—something that Anton’s new colleagues never wasted an opportunity to remind him about.
Speaking of the pretty pegasus—her theatrical wing-waving to an empty airship deck full of imaginary fans was just a tad too enthusiastic for Anton to take with any modicum of seriousness. He got the feeling she was rather enjoying standing in for herself during this particular exercise.
Black Tie’s horn flared, and a trapdoor concealed in the deck burst open. A grey blur shot out from the depths of the ship, spinning an arc straight over the top of Black Tie’s afro and landing precisely on determined hooves. With a jarring war cry, the earth stallion Anton recognised as one of Songbird’s dance team charged. Before Anton could even think, he was punted out of the way by a strong set of forehooves.
Knocked completely off balance, Anton stumbled backwards, his foot landing in a bucket of soapy water that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The leg that attempted to save his fall was met with the side of a very startled cleaner pony, who dropped her mop in fright as he tripped over her, sending them both crashing to the deck.
Clam Tapper—the annoyingly accurate name of this particular dancer—then proceeded to stroll up to Songbird, completely unhindered. “Oh my gosh! It’s totally Songbird Serenade!” he screeched, lifting a forehoof to the pegastar’s snoot.
Boop… Boop… Boop…
Songbird’s muzzle scrunched with each subsequent contact, but other than that, the mare didn’t move a muscle.
“Hey, Anton? Dude’s violating your waifu. You might wanna do something about it, eh?” Black Tie muttered, a notepad and quill hovering in front of him, probably documenting Anton’s many inadequacies as a bodyguard. A number of other observing bodyguards snickered in amusement.
Clam Tapper swept a hoof over her fringe, revealing a set of dazzling sapphire eyes. “Woah, so pretty! Hey everyone! Turns out she does have eyes after all! Who knew?”
Anton scowled, pulling his foot from the bucket with a wet shlop. His trousers were soaked. The cleaning pony wriggled out from beneath his legs and caught him off guard with a tactical nuzzle. “Sorry,” she whispered, quickly retrieving her mop and resuming her tuneless humming.
Despite the blush creeping onto his face making a facade of his anger, and the fact that he looked like the picture of incontinence, Anton stomped over to Clam Tapper and plucked the pretty-colt dancer up off the deck by the scruff of his neck. The stallion flapped his legs about, but completely devoid of the momentum he’d had before, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to escape.
“Stop calling her that. She’s not my damn waifu, okay?”
Songbird chose that moment to pout at him, her ears wilting. Black Tie merely observed, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Anton’s scowl returned, true to form. “Don’t encourage them,” he implored to Songbird, dropping a bored-looking Clam Tapper on the deck. There were enough convincing rumours making the rounds already that even he himself was starting to believe some of them.
Clam Tapper landed on his hooves, flashing the cleaning mare a smile that made her swoon.
“Alright, you ponies have had your fun. That’s it for today,” Songbird announced, smiling warmly at her security team. Nodding at their dismissal, the guardsponies dispersed, leaving a slightly soggy Anton alone with Songbird. Even the cleaning mare had mysteriously disappeared.
With nightfall fast approaching, and given that he was on an airship full of presumptuous ponies that were prone to presuming things they probably shouldn’t, Anton decided to make haste and skidaddle below deck before anypony could claim he and Songbird were having a romantic little get-together at sunset, or something.
“Well, g’night,” he muttered, trudging over to the trapdoor and pulling it open.
“Anton, wait,” Songbird began, fluttering over to the trapdoor and gently nudging it closed with a hoof.
A soft, buttercream forehoof grazed his hand, and Anton felt the wood slip from his grip. “Whatdoyouneed?” he asked, probably a tad too quickly.
Songbird’s ears flattened adorably. “So, um… Hearts and Hooves Day is coming up, and, well, I normally spend it alone. But, this year, I think… I might like to spend it with you… I-If you’re not busy, that is,” Songbird softly admitted. She gazed up at him, and her fringe fell away, revealing those pretty eyes.
Anton blinked. He could hear her words. Read her lips, too. The evidence was there, clear as day. His brain, of course, refused to acknowledge that the pegasus superstar extraordinaire, and all round mare of his dreams had just went and asked him out. In what universe would that actually happen?
“I…” he muttered, his heart pounding. Was she bluffing? Nah, she wouldn’t do that. Songbird was the sweetest mare he’d ever met. That must mean… she really wants to date me… Holy crap!
BANG!
Songbird let out a high-pitched “eep,” fluttering her wings in panic. Anton cursed loudly, the trap door having just flown open and hit him in the knee. Stumbling backwards for the second time that evening, he spotted a pale-gold unicorn mare daintily climbing up out of the hatch, her sculpted purple coiffure taking up a ridiculous amount of space.
“Aha! Songbird, my darling, there you are!” came her annoyingly snobbish voice.
Anton grimaced, and it wasn’t because of the bruise slowly forming on his leg. Golden Jubilee was a Canterlot noble, and Songbird’s manager, but most of all, an insufferable old ballbuster of a mare. Her world views were ‘old fashioned’ to say the least. It was her unwavering belief that stallions belonged either in the bedroom, compliant and willing to please, or dangling on the foreleg of a mare at an important high-society social event, being seen and not heard.
“But, I’m busy talking to Anton-” Songbird protested, folding her wings and frowning at her manager.
“Oh, don’t be silly, filly! You’ve no need for bodyguards aboard the Avant. Come, now. We simply must discuss the schedule for tomorrow night’s Canterlot performance!”
With that, the unicorn half-dragged Songbird through the hatch, leaving Anton alone with a bruised knee, a wet trouser leg, and a perpetual scowl.
Anton glared at Shining Armor with all the razor sharp edge of a thousand superheated daggers. There were… no words. What in Equestria would cause him to go and do something so unequivocally stupid? Such a gross betrayal of strictest confidence was an utterly unforgivable violation of the bro code.
“Why?” Anton hissed through gritted teeth, suddenly blessed with the power of speech once more. “Why would you do that?”
Shining’s ears were near enough flat. A rare sight, indeed. Ponies merely sidestepped the two of them as they milled about the Canterlot docks, much too busy to pay any attention to the thunderstruck human and his grimacing stallion friend. “Dude, she kept bugging me.”
A vein bulged in Anton’s sweat covered temple. “Bugging you? I wouldn’t care if she’d strapped on a foot-long rubber dildo and turned you into Captain Cock-Sleeve—you should have kept your mouth shut!” he spat.
“Dude, c’mon, don’t be like that. You know how she gets,” Shining argued, though, he stepped back a few paces away from the docks, turning tail and beginning a somewhat brisk trot toward Mane Street.
Anton followed the treacherous stallion along the lime-tinted path. “Oh, god. What if she hits me with that mind-rape love spell?” he thought aloud. “If I make some stupid move on Songbird in front of everypony, I swear on Luna’s fuzzy horse box I’ll find a way to make you regret it.”
Shining scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. She’s not going to mind-rape you.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re probably used to it by now. Bet she shoves a cucumber up your ass and rides you around like a rodeo whorse every night-”
“Oh, for Celestia’s sake…” Shining muttered, stopping dead in the middle of the street, a forehoof frozen in the air. His eyes were pointed skyward, his expression morphing into one of mild panic.
Anton followed the stallion’s gaze to the top of a gleaming white bell tower. A long, golden flagpole adorned the top of the structure, on which a pink alicorn was precariously perched, a set of equally pink binoculars in her hoof.
“I told her not to come,” Shining muttered, slapping his hanging forehoof to his face.
“I hate you,” Anton deadpanned, watching helplessly as Princess Mi Amore Cadenza threw herself from the flagpole, and began rocketing towards him like a feathery bullet.
“ANNNIIEEEE!” she squeed.
To the upper crust ponies of Canterlot, the presence of a human could be mostly ignored. After all, the Capital city of Equestria had all manner of exotic beings visiting on a daily basis. Anton was already old news about a week after the first time he’d arrived in Canterlot. It’s not like the locals weren’t used to seeing him here and there. The presence of a human and a royal Prince may have drawn a glance or two, but ultimately, still failed to capture the attention of the locals away from their all important brunch meetings, photoshoots and poetry recitals. Add an alicorn Princess to the equation, however, and even the highest and most mighty of pony aristocracy dropped whatever they were doing to witness the spectacle.
And, oh, what a spectacle it was.
SLAM.
Ninety pounds of alicorn collided with Anton’s chest, at what felt like just as many miles per hour. Both human and pony Princess fell to the ground, prompting a series of gasps from all directions. A couple of mares even produced wafting fans from their designer saddlebags. Such crude behaviour was not proper for a princess. Not that Cadance gave even the tiniest solitary fuck.
“Oh my gosh, you’d be so cute together!” she sperged, squeezing Anton’s ribs so hard he was sure he felt a couple of them crack. “Does she know yet? Have you told her how you feel? Oooh, I bet she feels the same way!”
“Jees, Candy… can’t breathe!” Anton gasped, going slightly blue in the face.
Shining cleared his throat, tapping his wife on the shoulder. “Um… Might want to loosen your grip a little, dear,” he muttered, nervously glancing around at the snooping ponies. More and more were beginning to show up, a lot of them pulling out cameras. “And maybe stop dry humping Anton in the middle of the street? They’ll be saying we had a voyeuristic threesome, for pony’s sake!”
“Oh hush, Shiny!” Cadence admonished, sitting up and waving a pretty golden horseshoe-clad pink hoof at him. “Come on. We’re going shipping!”
Anton hastily drew in lungfuls of air, also pushing himself up to a sitting position. He glared at a red-faced Shining Armor. The Prince’s hastily mouthed ‘sorry,’ fell well short of even beginning to atone for this shit.
“Ready, darlings?” Cadence smiled.
CRACK.
The street imploded, powerful alicorn magic instantaneously tearing them away from the prying eyes and polished lenses of the paparazzi. The next thing Anton knew, he had been deposited on a chair constructed of purple satin and solid gold, in a large dining hall that made The Crystal Carousel look like a greasy spoon.
Square-mutin windows, about twenty feet tall, rose up from the thick red carpet. The gleaming white and gold accented metropolis of Canterlot could be seen through them. Anton had many memories of Canterlot Castle, but this was the first time he’d been here in over three months.
“Ah! I was wondering when you’d show up,” Blueblood said, giving Anton a nudge from the adjacent seat. “The castle staff are preparing lunch as we speak.”
Cadence wasted no time in planting her pretty pink rump at Anton’s other side. “So, what’s your gameplan?” she shot at him, her tone that of a mare that meant absolute business. Her eyes shone like beacons of purest emotion.
Anton could tell this was going to be a long day. “Candy, I don’t have a ‘gameplan,’ nor do I want one.”
Shining quietly sat down at the other side of the dining table, attempting to make himself as discreet as possible. He caught a blast of Anton’s glare, and quickly grabbed a newspaper, holding it if front of his muzzle upside down.
“Nonsense! Do you like Songbird?” Cadence countered, hooking a pink foreleg over his arm.
He let slip an exasperated sigh. “Of course I do, but it’s… not that simple.”
Cadence's eyes widened, as though Anton had just blasphemed her royal plot hole. “Oh, really? Please, illuminate me.”
“Well, she’s busy all the time, for one. Not to mention that anypony who deludes themselves with even the slightest notion that they might have a shot with her immediately becomes the laughing stock of the whole ship,” Anton defended, fighting crazy with fire.
“From what I’m given to understand, Anton, you are by far the most likely inhabitant of the Avant to gain her affections. Why, wasn’t it only yesterday that Songbird requested you spend Hearts and Hooves Day with her?” Blueblood interjected, taking a delicate sip of his orange juice.
Anton felt all of the colour drain from his face. “How do you know about that?”
Blueblood grinned, tapping a hoof to his nose. Cadence, on the other hand, looked as though she was about to explode. “What?” she bellowed, very near Royal Canterlot Voice levels.
Shit. “Er… I was going to tell you.”
He hadn’t intended to tell her anything of the sort, of course. In fact, he’d intended to keep this particular tidbit of information to himself for as long as possible. How in Equestria Blueblood had managed to find out was a mystery.
“She asked you out, and you’re trying to tell me it’s not that simple?” Cadence scolded, her wings flaring, one of them knocking over Blueblood’s orange juice. The Prince scowled, but Cadence paid him no mind, grabbing Anton’s shoulders with her forehooves and practically pressing her muzzle to his nose, her huge eyes inches from his own. “Anton, tell me you said yes!”
A quick glance at Shining revealed he had suddenly become simply enthralled with the intricate stitching on the table cloth, judging by the way he had his eyes glued to it. Anton scowled. “I didn’t really have a chance to say anything, did I? That crackpot old manager dragged her away before I could answer,” he muttered, a thought suddenly coming to mind. “Wait, it was her who told you, wasn’t it?” Anton shot at Blueblood. The old coot must have been listening at the door.
The Prince nodded, picking up his now empty golden chalice. “Golden Jubilee is an old acquaintance of mine. Not really one I much care for, truth be told, but I like to keep things cordial between us, for the sake of the court.”
Cadence released Anton’s shoulders, slamming her hooves into the table hard enough to crack the wood. “Right, I’ve heard enough. Anton, I’m coming with you to the gig tonight.”
Anton coughed into his chalice. “What? No, Candy, that really isn’t necessary,” he spluttered, already envisioning a most cringe worthy, mind-rape induced confession of love in front of an stadium full of Songbird’s fans.
“Don’t argue with me, Darling. This is happening. I’ll see to it that Golden Jubilee never steals your waifu ever again!” the alicorn declared, lifting her head high and flaring her wings majestically. Anton received a faceful of royal purple feathers as a result.
“She’s not my waifu,” he grumbled, his words slightly muffled, but Cadence had long since stopped listening.
Author's Note
Let me know if I derped editing this. 
