12th Sappy street was quaint and quiet; just like the well off retirees that lived there liked it. Blueblood and his compatriots however did not respect the peace of the neighborhood; more specifically the peace of one neighbor.

Grandpa Longday started at the knocking at his door, and setting down his tea and newspaper, walked over and opened it. A colt waited at the door and proffered a stack of donut boxes.

“Three dozen banana and pomegranate flavor. Hot and fresh, the Sweetie things ™ promise!”

Longday blinked,

“I didn’t order donuts,” he said in a creaky voice.

The salesman’s smile of the delivery driver faltered.

“Uh…,” setting down the boxes, he fished around his pocket and extracted a notebook, “12th Sappy street, house 11022, scheduled delivery for 8:00 am?” He glanced up with a raised eyebrow.

“Well that’s my house. But I didn’t order any donuts.”

The colt stared and thought about a few responses; but decided that ignorance was the better part of valor.

“Alright, um, they are already paid for… do you want me to throw them away?”

“No, no, I’ll take them I suppose.”

And so he was back at his table; wondering what he was going to do with three dozen donuts. He heard another knock on his door, to find a lawyer wanting to talk about his will. He informed the lawyer that he already had a will. The lawyer asked why then he had scheduled an appointment. Longday told him to go away.

An organ tuner came and asked if the heating was at the usual level. He said it was but he did not have an organ.

Longday could not hear the laughter, nor could anyone on the street. But it sounded in the rented room positioned across the street. A muffling spell kept the pranksters hidden. Longday tried a donut; they were gross.

A party clown flipped unto his porch, a private detective, a plumber, an electrician, a nurse, a police officer, a colt with flowers that was crushed that his secret admirer didn’t exist, another lawyer, three journalists, protesters that only left after Longday convinced them councilor Copperheart didn’t live there, councilor Copperheart, funeral mourners, filly scouts, a man who sought a lawyer; and more and more until sunset.

Blueblood had watched Longdays descent into confusion, anger, and madness with a steady grin; his arm chair providing the best view of the show. The gaggle of socialites surrounding him laughed and laughed and laughed; Sir Jewel Eater had laughed so hard he had collapsed onto the floor. It was undignified; but Blueblood appreciated the compliment of his efforts.

Finally a feather preener was thrown out(Longday was an earth pony); and with a stretch Blueblood rose from his chair. Any who had been sitting rose a beat after him.

“Well Ladies and Gentlecolts; shows over. I couldn’t get the fumigators to come on such short notice”, a titter of laughter, “so I will bid all of you a good night.”

There was a surprised stir but the pack of lords and ladies collected themselves to leave. Blueblood was already outside the door; Alfalfa(his butler) and the two servants carrying his favorite armchair following behind.

By the time Blueblood exited the hotel his smile had faded to the usual slight smirk. Outside the door of the hotel the servants peeled off, heading to their small truck. While Blueblood and Alfalfa headed to the sleek, black, custom Wingbardy model. Blueblood immediately slid into the passenger seat. Alfalfa gave him a look he didn’t see and slid into the driver seat.

“Were too your highness?”

“The palace.” That earned him another look, but the butler held his peace. Soon the car roared to life and began zipping up towards the palace.

Canterlot castle was beautiful. Like the whole city it was built into the side of a Mount Canter; but it perched above the city; like a throne on a dais. The oldest part of the castle once was a lesser peak; that had been carved into the beating heart of Equestria. The newer parts, still hundreds of years old; where interlocking brick mosaics of white and purple shades. Gold and silver domes and spires pierced the sky; and in the descending sun they gleamed and flickered as their long dead designer intended. The castle proper was surrounded by the royal gardens; anything that was good to eat or fair to the eye was planted there. Some of those plants had made journeys of thousands of miles to be planted here; made to thrive by royal gardeners despite the brisk mountain air. Hedge wall separated various sections from each other. A wall ringed it all, and with it’s ceremonial watch fires and ancient archer towers; it looked like the band of a crown.

And Blueblood's mood rotted as he walked it’s paths. Alfalfa had watched his master's mood deteriorate as they drove; and was stepping lightly. Not lightly enough apparently.

“Alfalfa,” the poor pony flinched, “head up to the room. Prepare it.”

Alfalfa took the offered exit; and Blueblood was alone. Well not alone, alone; this was the center of Equestrian court and government. But no one tried to talk to him, and Blueblood kept turning down less and less well-traveled paths. Well, almost nobody tried to talk to him.

“Your highness, your highness!” A high voice shouted after him. Blueblood tried to ignore her but he scowled as the trotting grew louder.

“Prince Blueblood,” Lady Highhoof breathed heavily, “nice to meet- gasp - again.”

Blueblood sighed, turning to see the pretty mare that now strode beside him.

“You are very kind, but I am currently occupied. I think it best to speak another time.”

She blinked large eyes at him, sidling closer.

“Occupied with what?”

Blueblood’s ears laid back fully.

“Merely a thought.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“That if you used your skull as a vase .” She flinched back but Blueblood continued with a flat voice, “something worthwhile and beautiful might just come out of your head.”

She stumbled back. Blueblood did not slow; and with a muffled sob she ran off. A smile flicked over Blueblood’s face. A few moments later Blueblood did slow. That had been… undignified; he hadn’t thought it through. His head twitched to the side; before his face hardened and his ears pinned to the back of his head. Oh damn her and damn this garden, he thought as he turned down a narrower path.

Blueblood turned again and again into less well traveled paths; until he was in the darkest and loneliest corner of the garden. This being the royal garden it was still idyllic; a venerable oak surrounded by a hedge wall. The southeastern jungles or the Evertree forest would have suited his mood better. How could one be properly bitter in such a beautiful place?

The worst part about his mood, Blueblood decided, was he couldn’t articulate why he was bitter. Things had gone well tonight! He should be drinking with his coterie. Or with one of his paramours. Or one of madames Sweetsign’s mares if he was feeling lazy. Or sleeping. Or even working on his thesis. He should not be pacing in the royal garden like he intended to beat the ground into submission.

He stopped, looking at the sky through the tangle of branches; the sun hadn’t quite set yet. He sighed, all of a sudden melancholy joined his foul mood. Then he blinked up at the tree; then around at the grass under it and hedge surrounded it. He gazed back at the tree; and saw a branch. He blinked, it was his branch. He hesitated, then with a shrug and a wave of ivory magic that slid over his body; he jumped and hooked a hoof around a branch. The route he remembered being like an open highway took a lot of squeezing and telekinesis to get up and through. A horrible thought of turning around and seeing some of his peers flitted through his mind; but he was already too far along.

With one more contortion; he was onto his branch. The branch swayed a little, but it still held his weight. He grinned and carefully sat down.

The view of the garden was different; but the sky was the same. The melancholy was still there as he stared at the setting sun; but a small smile creeped onto his face. He plucked a cigar out of his pocket, clipped it, and with a brief glow of his horn, lit it.

His hoofs itched for a book. He had left his copy of Reflections on the Revolution in Aquillia was back at his mansion. A shame really; this spot was made for reading. As the younger self had known. Though his books had been lighter reading. Quest for the West Light and Knight Cursebreaker; and the like. Young Blueblood had looked over the garden and saw monsters, castle walls, and armies arrayed in all their glory. Sun above, he hadn’t read those books in ages.

“I remember this place.” A smooth, maternal voice interrupted his nostalgia.

Now Blueblood was Prince of Equestria; born and raised. A picture of good manners and breeding. So he did not fall out of the tree. And he dared anyone to say otherwise. Blueblood merely descended the tree quickly.

A moment later he was kneeling, and he gasped out:

“Your majesty?!”

Celestia looked down at him with a small smile.

“Raise nephew; and we are not at court. I’m your aunt.”

Blueblood rose slowly; his cheeks burned, but he returned a full smile. Blueblood felt the lingering tension ease further. It was even more difficult to be bitter around Celestia. Celestia made him feel small, not lesser, but small. Like he was staring at a mountain range, or the royal guard on parade, or Caterlot for that matter.

Before he could cobble together something to say Celestia continued; looking up at the tree.

“Yes this was your tree,” she chuckled, “I remember you falling asleep up there and driving your parents to fervor looking for you.”

He winced, but spoke.

“You found me if I recall.” How did he forget? Waking up like he was wrapped up in a warm body wide hug; as Celestia telekinesis plucked him from the tree. He winced again, and then there had been scolding from his parents that followed.

Celestia gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry that we haven’t talked more. I have been quite busy.”

Blueblood shook his head; his voice was a little shocked.

“There is no need your-“ his words stumbled a little, “aunt. You have important affairs of state to look to.”

“Aye, but it's still unfortunate.” She looked over the grassy knoll under the tree, and finding a particularly lush spot; sat.

Blueblood remained standing and tried, but failed, to find something to say. Why was the ruler of all Equestria here? He looked around. Where were her guards? Did she come looking for him? Or was she just strolling? Celestia interrupted his thoughts; with a question in old equestrian.

“You may sit nephew. How does your painting go?”

He did sit; to the front and right of his aunt. His old equestrian was rougher. He was more used to reading it than speaking it. Few except scholars bothered to learn the original language of Equestria; before reforms in the 100s ALB standardized and simplified the language. Of course part of the roughness came from awkwardness.

“Uh… I quit painting.”

“Oh, and what is your progress on your thesis?” This was an Herzlander. A language he spoke more easily.

He shifted.

“It is progressing,” he shifted again, “slowly.”

Celestia didn’t say anything; just gave him a look. And in that moment Blueblood felt lesser. She turned her head up to the sky. This time in aquillia. He recognized it but shook his head. She tried again in Rijekan.

“Did you see the new play? Joy of the cab, I have been offered tickets.”

Blueblood relaxed, now that he was on firmer ground. Not linguistically though. He frowned in thought for a while; trying to parce what she said. Celestia repeated herself twice more before he spoke.

“Not - no - value - in - the - seeing…” he shook his head, and spoke in equestrian.

“Are you asking about the quality of the new play?” She nodded, “I would skip it; I should have skipped it. It is only popular right now since they somehow managed to con Bright Flash into accepting the lead role. Everyone saying it is some masterpiece is just star struck.” He tilted his head, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the stallion in the lead male role, Big Encore if I recall, again. He was rather good despite the drivel that was script. Really elevated the role.”

Celestia listened to his rant with amusement.

“Oh? Drivel? I didn’t read the whole review; but Hardeye gave it a good rating. And he is not one to let a play go unpunished.”

Blueblood rose to the challenge of defending his objectively correct opinions. As the sun was only a shard above the horizon; the conversation flowed on. Art, court life and gossip, research that suggested that large swaths of Equestria had once been a desert. Until with a tilt of her head, she asked a question.

“What’s your hobby now?”

Blueblood blinked at the change of topic. It took him a moment to readjust. Lord Frostflower’s scandal being mentally brushed aside.

“Pardon?”

“Now that you’ve given up drawing, what is the new one?”

“Sword fighting…” he spoke somewhat hesitantly.

“Fencing?”

“No, sword fighting. I met a retired monster hunter and mercenary from Tobuck. He claims to be a noble. He might be lying but his skills are real enough.”

“An unusual hobby.” There was no condemnation in her voice, though, which relieved him, “why pick it?”

Blueblood shrugged slightly.

“Because it is uncommon.”

She nodded slowly at that.

“Hmmm… how long have you been at it?”

“A few months at this point.”

She nodded and rose to her feet. Sunlight playing off her white coat.

“Let’s see it then.”

He gave a shocked blink. That was… that was the phrase she had used in the past when she wanted a demonstration.

“I- I don’t have my sword.”

With a pop of magic two dull practice blades fell in front of the pair. Celestia catching it with a hoof.

That had Blueblood staring at her eyes wide; she wanted a duel. It was hard to picture his aunt using a sharp knife. Any doubt of her skill was burned away in the next moment. It was a simple thing; a few twirls to test the balance of the blade, and it was one of the most graceful things he had ever seen.

He did not touch his blade.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite,” she tilted her head, “… I suppose we don’t have to.”

He plucked up his blade. She gave him a broad smile. Was it a little… smug? No, surely not.

She tilted her head, a brief look of concentration flitted over her face. A wave of gold magic over both of them. He felt the magic; but stamped down his instinct to push against it. No need to cause her Majesty unnecessary effort.

“That will prevent us from imparting too much force. A bear could swing that blade and it would only bruise. En guarde.” An aquillian phrase he did recognize.

He gave her a wry smile; but he slid into his stance. Balanced, ready to spring, blade high and forward. She adopted a similar stance; he would have liked to have analyzed the differences.

“To surrender?”

“To surrender.”

“Go”

He hesitated a moment. She swung at his throat. It wasn’t a very fast blow; and he parried and riposted. She smoothly side stepped, bringing her blade back into guard. The fight began in earnest.

He almost laughed at just how much she was holding back. It was like a lion play fighting a house cat. For one her horn stayed dim. She didn’t use anything but her right hoof wield her sword; while Blueblood made full use of his telekinesis to aid and carry his sword. Even sometimes swinging up into a bipedal stance to swing from; putting both hoofs behind a blow or block.

She also kept her wings to her back. Though a gust from those could probably knock him through the hedge.

And of course, apparently, she was also a master swordsmare. She started slowly, pulling her blows and telegraphing her attacks. This grace period allowed him some attacks of his own; but he couldn’t land a blow.

Soon though it felt like he was fighting a growing storm; as tempo and ferocity of her attacks increased. Blows started to slip through his guard; the dull edge leaving bursts of pain. He was soon panting, sweating, and constantly retreating. It felt like she wielded ten swords.

An idea came to him; an inspiration.

Letting go of his sword and catching it in his telekinesis; he went for a high overhead swing. Celestia raised her sword to block it. Blueblood leapt forward; horn aimed for her barrel. He felt his blade deflected, his target step to the side, and then a blow across the head laid him out in the grass. He dimly heard a musical voice.

He blinked up at the bright sky; which was soon joined by Celestia’s face. He stared wide eyed, while Celestia studied him. Blueblood winded, bruised, and sweating like a pig; Celestia didn’t appear to have a hair out of place.

He started laughing and grinning as his heart pounded in his chest. Celestia returned his grin and offered hoof. A wave of magic washed his pain away. He took the offered help and got to his hoofs.

He pranced about for a moment before he bowed to Celestia.

“Thank you for the bout.”

“You are welcome. You have a real talent for fighting. But you're not the first unicorn to think of that.”

His eyes shone, “Can we fight again?”

She shook her head.

“Not tonight.”

“But it is still light out,” he pleaded, but even as he spoke the sunlight went away. He blinked up at the sky, at the moon, then his watch; and gave Celestia a baffled look.

“I can make a little false sunlight if needed,” with a flash of light the swords were gone. “But I really must be bidding you a good night.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Good night aunt.”

Blueblood stood alone a while; as he stepped to go he felt his hoof touching something. He looked down to find his cigar. He snorted, leaving for his palace guest room. Alfalfa was relieved when his master came back sober and with a smile. He even received a compliment on the room.

Author's Note

If you have any criticisms for this chapter or the story in general; I would appreciate them.