One Thousand and One Neighs

by Drakkanien
edited by a friend

Despite her brief stay in Equestria, Ahrisham’s personal quarters had slowly started to resemble a chamber pulled straight from Saddle Arabia. Anyone entering had to pass through a beaded curtain made of colourful glass strands. The beads shimmered in the light and rattled faintly when disturbed, making it nearly impossible to enter unnoticed.

The scent of incense hung thick in the air, a blend of jasmine and sandalwood that tickled Blueblood’s nostrils without becoming overpowering. His eyes were immediately drawn to the tapestries lining the walls. Simple in design, they featured geometric patterns common in Saddle Arabian art, but their purpose was twofold. Not only did they provide decoration, but they also served to muffle sound from both inside and outside the room, making the space unusually still.

The architecture and furniture of the chamber remained distinctly Equestrian in origin, a mare with her army of servants could not change it, but everything had been rearranged to suit Saddle Arabian preferences. Ponies typically favoured cosy, cluttered spaces, but Saddle Arabians preferred expansive interiors, perhaps due to their larger stature or cultural norms. Desks, chairs, and cushioned seats were all pushed to the edges of the room, leaving the centre open save for a low coffee table surrounded by an excessive number of pillows. The table was littered with books and scrolls of various shapes and sizes.

Blueblood’s gaze fell onto the materials strewn across the table. While the chamber might evoke Saddle Arabia, the reading material was decidedly Equestrian. Volumes of poetry, law books, research on traditions, and even a few romance novels were piled in an organised chaos. To his surprise, one book in particular caught his eye: a copy of Lexicon CVIII, an addendum to civil law bearing his own name. Seeing it here felt oddly personal, almost targeted, and he couldn’t shake a feeling of unease.

Perplexity’s presence, while initially irritating, was proving to be comforting. Though Blueblood would never admit it aloud, her familiar antics were a welcome distraction in this alien environment. At the moment, she was fussing over a teapot on one of the side tables.

“It’s still hot.” She remarked, tapping her leathery wing against the porcelain.

Blueblood rolled his eyes, pointing at the pot's spout. “The steam is a dead giveaway.”

Perplexity merely snorted in return.

The two worked quickly, quietly scouring the chamber. Their hooves made no sound on the thick rugs, and their movements were precise, even if only one could be considered ‘practised’ in the art of sneaking. At one point, Perplexity seemed tempted to peek through a stack of correspondence she found, but a sharp hiss from Blueblood stopped her. They had no time for such pleasant distractions.

A muffled voice from the next room froze them in place. Blueblood and Perplexity exchanged tense glances, then relaxed as the tone of the conversation became clearer - it was a casual, playful exchange. Letting out their collective breath, they abandoned their attempts at sneaking and approached the archway leading to the adjacent chamber.

“... please stop wiggling, or you’ll make me miss my mark!” A melodic voice, laced with an exotic accent, floated through the air, accompanied by a soft giggle.

“I can’t help it!” Replied another voice, this one distinctly Equestrian but with a slight foreign feel to it. “You’re tickling me!”

“Alright… let me just…” Another fit of feminine laughter followed, just as Blueblood and Perplexity stepped into the room.

The adjacent chamber was set up like a study, though its furniture and shelves had also been rearranged much like the previous room. The air was stale and faintly musky, motes of dust swirling in the sunlight streaming through a single window.

Lady Ahrisham was present, of course, her attire unusually simple for a mare of her stature. She was bent over another pony - a Crystal Pony, no less. The Crystal Pony’s polished jade-like coat shimmered in rich green hues, accented with darker patterns that swirled like smoke beneath the surface. She wore gilded armour marking her as a member of the Royal Guard, though her plumed helmet was clearly absent.

The mare lay on her belly atop a large sitting pillow while Ahrisham carefully worked with gem-cutting tools on her withers. Each gentle tap of the chisel sent the Crystal Pony squirming and giggling.

Blueblood stood there, frozen in confusion. He knew very little about Crystal Ponies beyond common gossip and surface-level observations. Was this some kind of necessary maintenance? A cultural ritual? Or worse… could it be a bizarre display of affection? Celestia forbid - a mating ritual? The thought alone made his stomach churn.

Ahrisham gave the chisel one final, precise tap before extinguishing the unusual flame-like glow of her magic. Setting the tool aside, she leaned in to blow a fine layer of gemstone dust off the mare’s back.

“There,” Ahrisham chirped. “I removed the chip. If I had some finer sandpaper, I could polish it better, but…”

“Oh, stop.” The Crystal Pony waved a hoof dismissively, laughter still bubbling in her voice. “It already feels so much better, Princess.”

“Princess…?” Blueblood blurred out faster than he could bite his tongue.

Both mares turned to him, startled. The Crystal Pony’s red-amber eyes went wide, her jaw slack as she stammered: “Uh…”

Ahrisham fared better, swiftly recovering from her initial surprise. Her dark sapphire eyes locked onto Blueblood’s, studying him for a single, silent moment. The intensity of her gaze felt almost like a challenge.

“That is merely an error in translation, Your Highness.” Ahrisham explained, rising gracefully to her hooves. She offered him a small bow, her tone as measured as her movements. “In my tongue, I am Aspaspās - a Royal Mare. Ponies of Equestria seem to interpret this as your word for Princess.” Her accent was noticeable, as she made no effort to conceal it.

“I… see, yes.” Blueblood began, flicking his ears, though he made no effort to pretend he understood.

With monumental effort, he tore his gaze away from Ahrisham’s piercing eyes and studied the green-hued Crystal Pony. There was something familiar about her, as though he had seen her somewhere before. His intense scrutiny had no effect on her - she met his gaze with a casual neutrality. It was a surprising reaction given how most ponies reacted to a sight of an Equestria’s Prince, though she was no ordinary pony. Before he could place her, Ahrisham’s voice interrupted his musings.

“Your arrival was completely unannounced, Your Highness.” She fussed, hiding away her gem-cutting tools. The sight of them raised questions he didn’t feel like asking - not yet, at least. He had more pressing matters to address. “Had I known you would be gracing me with your presence, I would have prepared properly for such an honour.”

“That was precisely the point.” Blueblood replied, straightening his back and shaking off the remnants of his initial surprise. “I wanted to catch you unawares - to converse in a more… natural setting.” A white lie, one he could easily get away with here.

“You are too kind, Your Highness.”

The entire exchange was tense, full of just the kind of carefully rehearsed politeness that Canterlot nobility thrived on. It was a dance they both knew well - Blueblood by years of practice, Ahrisham by necessity. Neither said anything of substance, those were the rules of this frustrating game.

Meanwhile, the Crystal Pony had risen from her position on the floor, having retrieved her missing helmet and placed it securely on her head. Her amber eyes flicked between the Prince and the Saddle Arabian, her large frame easily towering over both of them. As a Royal Guard, she appeared right at home amongst them, even if her role was reduced from protector to a mere decoration. She was a monument of calm, strength and confidence, unphased by their talk and presence.

Ahrisham closed her eyes briefly and exhaled softly, her shoulders relaxing. When she spoke again, her tone was casual, the guarded note gone. “We both know why you’re here, Prince.”

“Do we now?” He asked, his tone careful, wary. Just how much did she know? While Perplexity’s talent for sniffing out secrets was unmatched, discretion was another matter entirely. Had she been discovered?

“Of course.” Ahrisham’s horn glowed faintly as she used her magic to lift two empty teacups from the floor. She passed by Blueblood, carrying the porcelain to the adjacent room and placing them with practised ease onto a side table. “You arrived unannounced, alone, after ignoring more than one of my previous requests for an audience.”

“I didn’t…” Blueblood began, turning instinctively to exchange a glance with Perplexity - except she was gone.

His eyes widened slightly as he cast his eyes around the room, but there was no trace of the ashen-grey Bat Pony. Not a strand of her mane nor the faintest sound of her leaving. It was as if she had vanished into thin air, leaving him utterly alone. Internally grumbling, Blueblood already condemned her for abandoning him to endure this ordeal all by himself.

Forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he faced Ahrisham again. “You are quite perceptive.” He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm he didn’t bother to conceal.

“Har har.” Ahrisham replied, her mock laughter free of malice. “I’m merely listing the evidence, Prince of Equestria.”

With a tap of her hoof, she pressed a small brass porter bell. Though it made no sound, a servant appeared within moments, balancing a tray on their back. They moved with practised efficiency, collecting the used teapot and cups while leaving behind fresh ones. Blueblood noted that, like most of Ahrisham’s entourage, the servant lacked wings or a horn.

“Do you have a preference for your tea?” Ahrisham asked casually, her previous tension already dissipated. “I’ll settle for saffron rose. Have you ever tried it?”

“No, never.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up, and she rose onto the tips of her hooves, brimming with excitement. “Then I simply must treat you to some.”

Before he could protest, she chirped a few quick words to her servant in her melodic, native tongue. With a low bow, they departed, the clatter of the beaded curtain marking their exit.

Even at a glance, Ahrisham’s behaviour was far from the norm for Equestrian nobility. While she carried herself with undeniable authority, she displayed a casual demeanour that set her apart from the stiff, hierarchical norms of Canterlot. Her interactions with servants were uncharacteristically warm, and her attitude toward Blueblood lacked the unquestionable reverence he had grown used to. It reminded him, in a small way, of Aunt Celestia - relaxed, yet commanding.

“You are forgetting your decorum.” Blueblood noted, his tone sharper than intended. He gulped, realising in this moment that she was deftly steering the conversation, leaving him struggling to maintain control. “Is this how an esteemed mare like yourself addresses a Prince?”

To his surprise, she laughed again. It wasn’t a mocking sound; rather, it was melodic, almost pleasant. And that made it worse.

“Oh, Your Highness,” Ahrisham said lightly, her tone carrying but a teasing hint. “There’s no need for such pretences within the privacy of my chambers.”

He froze, utterly bewildered. No self-respecting noble of Equestria would say such a thing. Among Canterlot’s elite, status was everything, a mantle to be clung to with ferocious tenacity. Yet Ahrisham dismissed hers so casually, as though it were an afterthought. For the second time, she reminded him of Celestia - and that unsettled him deeply.

The silence between them hung heavily, weighing on Blueblood’s mind. Ahrisham, however, seemed entirely unbothered by it. She used the moment to tidy up her ‘office space,’ carefully gathering books, scrolls, and letters from the low coffee table that he and Perplexity had noticed earlier. Blueblood’s gaze lingered on the disturbed correspondence. Had Perplexity, despite her earlier promise, given in to her nosy tendencies?

His musings were interrupted by the sound of surprisingly heavy hoofsteps. The source - the green Crystal Pony guard - shuffled into the room. Her presence here demanded an explanation, and Blueblood took the opportunity to change the subject.

“What is she doing here?” Blueblood asked, indicating with his chin toward the green guardsmare.

The guard froze mid-step, two of her hooves, one front and one back, still raised awkwardly. She didn’t turn her head, but her amber eyes darted toward the Prince, her pupils shrinking. She looked, for all the world, like a foal caught with her hoof in the cookie jar - startled and oddly amusing.

Ahrisham, pausing mid-sort of her scrolls, peeked over the pile at the frozen mare. She stifled a giggle before answering.

“Oh, that is my jailor - Molly.” Ahrisham said plainly, a small smile gracing her features. Then, after a moment’s pause, she added carefully, almost as if asking a question. “I thought she was appointed to me by you, Your Highness…? She’s been with me since the very first day of my arrest and hasn’t left my side, not even for a moment.”

Blueblood turned his attention back to Molly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her more intently.

“Molly…” He mouthed slowly. “That’s an odd name for a pony.”

“Yessir!” Molly replied, snapping to attention with a stiff salute. “It’s short for Malachite, Your Highness.”

“Shield.” Blueblood spoke flatly. “You were my shield.” His tone devoid of emotion even as his expression shifted slightly, his eyes widening in realisation. For some reason an itch in his bandaged hoof reminded him of the mare and her peculiar antics.

He didn’t fancy the idea of having a witness to his conversation with Ahrisham. Perplexity, when she was around, could at least be trusted. But this mare? No. She wasn’t even from Equestria - her crystalline form was evidence enough of that.

“You are dismissed.” Blueblood said with a sneer, waving her off with his hoof. “Lady Ahrisham and I have important matters to discuss, and we don’t need an extra pair of long ears eavesdropping.”

Molly opened her mouth, clearly about to protest, but Blueblood silenced her with a sharp click of his tongue. “No arguments!” He snapped, leaving no room for debate. He didn’t need to explain his reason before her.

The guardsmare hesitated but ultimately obeyed the command, retreating from the room with stiff, heavy steps. Ahrisham watched her leave, giving a brief, casual wave before turning her unreadable gaze back to Blueblood.

“Now, with all the distractions out of the way…” Blueblood began, only to be interrupted by the sound of jingling glass beads as the door opened again. A Saddle Arabian attendant entered, carrying a tray with fragrant herbs and an assortment of sweets, just like ordered.

Efficient and silent, the attendant placed the tray on the coffee table with practised precision, arranging it neatly. She then collected the teapot and cups from earlier, bowing deeply before leaving without ever turning her back on either Ahrisham or Blueblood.

Blueblood couldn’t help but note her poise. Her movements were precise, fast, and utterly unobtrusive - qualities that made for a perfect attendant. Despite his appreciation of a quick witted servant, he groaned internally. The interruptions were relentless and numerous today, and the longer they dragged on, the more he resented every moment spent in this wing of the castle. It felt as though fate itself had conspired to torment him.

“Perfect~” Ahrisham purred, already inhaling the aroma of her favourite tea blend. Black tea, saffron threads, dried rose petals, a pinch of cardamom, and a drizzle of crystallised honey were laid out in neat cloth bags on the tray. Without hesitation, she emptied one into her cup, her horn glowing faintly as she attempted to bring the water in the porcelain pot just below boiling.

With no other option, Blueblood joined the ritual. He levitated one of the herb bags into his cup, settling it at the bottom while waiting for the water to steep.

His gaze drifted to the tray of treats. A particular baklava caught his attention - a delicate piece crusted with finely chopped pistachios and glazed with what smelled like honey and rosewater. Its moist, golden layers seemed to promise a small culinary adventure. For a moment, he considered indulging, but the thought passed quickly. No matter how inviting it looked, he couldn’t bring himself to give in.

“Best tea is made with water a shy breath away from boiling.” Ahrisham instructed, narrowing her eyes as she worked her heating spell on the pot. “If it’s too cold, the water won’t draw out the herbs’ essence. If it’s too hot, we risk scalding the ingredients and ruining the mix.”

As she spoke, she dismissed the spell and carefully brought the steaming pot to their cups. She poured just enough water to soak the herbs before setting the pot aside.

“The choice of water is also important.” She added, a small smile gracing her features as the pale glow around her horn extinguished. “The right spring, the proper treatment… all of it enhances the flavour.”

They could do nothing now but wait. The tea needed time to infuse with the saffron, cardamom, and other herbs, and to cool to a drinkable temperature. Blueblood’s gaze met Ahrisham’s briefly before flicking away; the exchange felt awkward, especially given the stark contrast between her casual tone and his rising agitation. He couldn’t help but note how much she seemed to appreciate tea - just like Celestia did.

It was the third trait she shared with his beloved aunt. Surely, no mere coincidence could account for this.

“We didn’t come here to discuss your tea-making skills, did we?” Blueblood finally broke the silence, his voice steady, though it carried a certain edge to it. His words made Ahrisham turn fully to face him.

Only now did he notice the white bandage on her cheek, stained with fresh crimson. He faintly remembered her pressing cloth to her face during their meeting all those days ago. The wound clearly hasn’t healed yet. Blueblood pushed the observation aside, determined not to let it distract him. He pressed on.

“After my order to contain you within these chambers…” He gestured to the spacious and opulent room that served as her ‘jail cell.’ “... I’ve had more than one unpleasant encounter with members of your entourage.”

For a brief moment, Ahrisham’s expression wavered, the careful mask cracking just enough for her brows to twitch in concern. “I can scarcely believe anyone would intentionally offend you, Your Highness.” She replied, her words coming after a pause that lingered just a bit too long.

“That may be true.” Blueblood’s smirk deepened, growing sharp and predatory. “But whether intentional or not, it doesn’t change the perception of the slight.”

Ahrisham hesitated, her gaze shifting between their steaming cups and the Prince’s face.

“There will be time enough to enjoy the tea.” Blueblood remarked, tapping his hoof against the table. He didn’t break eye contact, his tone calm but heavy as the tension between them became palpable. “Let’s talk while it cools, shall we?”

“Indeed.” Ahrisham inclined her muzzle slightly, raising it just enough to reclaim some of her composure. “The tea is still too hot for drinking. In the meantime, we can… iron out some crumpled edges in our relationship.”

The faint curl of her lips betrayed her enjoyment; she was eager for their verbal sparring to begin. Blueblood suspected she had been growing bored in confinement.

“Foreign envoys on Equestrian soil are guaranteed robust privileges.” She began, her tone smooth and measured. “Ones which I’ve been denied due to a certain… incident I took part in.”

Blueblood blinked - once, twice, three times. It was a valid argument. Diplomatic immunity was a thorny issue, and harming a delegate was akin to insulting the ruler they represented. However…

“I was acting within the laws of Equestria and my authority.” He countered, his tone sharp. “Your actions, though unintentional, endangered the peace of Canterlot Castle, caused widespread destruction…” He paused for effect. “And endangered the lives of those present at the scene.”

The weight of his last point would have carried more force if Blueblood had bothered to check on the condition of the injured. He didn’t, of course.

“Are you going to put me on trial for a mere misstep in judgement?” Ahrisham tilted her head, her golden mane flowing like a waterfall to one side. “I’m eager to pay the price for the accident, but keeping me confined here serves no one.”

“That may be true - holding you here has no purpose.” Blueblood admitted, his voice low. “But I must say, I find it immensely satisfying to have you locked up.”

The words escaped before he could stop them, the frustration simmering within him for the last couple of days boiled over at last. He took his teacup, still too hot, and raised it to his lips. The heat stung his tongue and lips, but he didn’t care. He sipped carefully, trying to steady himself.

Across from him, Ahrisham blinked, visibly startled by his bluntness. Any carefully rehearsed scenarios she had prepared for this conversation seemed to crumble to dust. Few could anticipate such a raw malice, after all.

“You try to escape responsibility for your actions.” He continued, driving the point home. “Thinking that if you toss enough shining coins our way, it will make the issue disappear.”

“Mayhaps.” She retorted, flaring her nostrils in mild agitation and folding her forelegs elegantly one atop the other. “I have enough gold and influence to do just that, Prince. Isn’t it one of the privileges stemming from our birthright?”

This struck a familiar chord within Blueblood. Ahrisham didn’t even try to deny that her status let her trample over laws and customs whenever she pleased. She knew her place in the world and was not afraid to take advantage of it. Even now, her title was naught but a tool to achieve her ends.

“These are dangerous words.” He spoke in a low tone, narrowing his eyes. “Some ponies might take them the wrong way.”

Ahrisham met his gaze without wavering, though the smirk had faded from her features.

“Are you one such pony?” She probed carefully, using her magic to tear off a piece of croissant and lift it to her muzzle. The treat was stuffed with light, puffy chocolate-walnut cream.

“Perhaps~” Blueblood replied in a lighter voice, a faint, impish glint appearing in his azure eyes.

Ahrisham’s gaze intensified as she studied the Prince’s features carefully. She chewed on her treat before swallowing and taking a gamble. “You are not.” The mare finally said.

He quirked an eyebrow but made no attempt to interrupt her just yet.

“You might be petty and crave little more than to avenge the slight I unintentionally caused you, but you are also very much aware that keeping me here is a misconduct, even if you could justify it.”

Prince Blueblood scoffed. Only he could call himself petty - and only in his own thoughts. Somepony else saying it out loud? Unforgivable! Still, he had to admit - she had read him correctly.

“You are treading on thin ice here.” He warned, though the blank look on her face told him she didn’t understand the expression. “Right…” Blueblood pressed a hoof to his forehead. “Ice - you might not even know what it is.”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Ahrisham retorted with a tiny, amused snort. “It’s crunchy and good for cooling drinks!”

Blueblood rolled his eyes, now suffering through a mental image of Ahrisham crushing ice cubes in her jaws. He muttered softly, “Why am I not surprised you think ice is for chewing?” under his breath.

A brief pause settled between them, neither making a sound. Both the Prince and the envoy took the opportunity to finally sample their tea. Blueblood discovered, to his surprise, that it was quite pleasant. He was more of a coffee pony - following in Luna’s hoofsteps - but he couldn’t deny that the cardamom and saffron notes gave the drink a surprisingly luxurious aftertaste. He quite liked it.

“Savour the taste, Prince,” Ahrisham coaxed, taking a delicate sip and allowing the dark, bitter liquid to roll over her tongue. “Feel the warmth, the earthy, relaxing notes… let them take you.”

For a single moment, Blueblood allowed himself to be entranced by the sensation, but as quickly as the spell came, it was dismissed with a flick of his head.

“Do not try to distract me.” He snorted, setting his teacup aside with an angry click. “I already feel that the longer I spend talking to you, the more I get entangled in the web you spin.”

“Oh, Prince,” Ahrisham tutted in an almost playful manner, as if to dismiss his concerns. “Just because we are locked in a mortal duel of wits, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy every moment of it~”

Blueblood actually laughed at her words. For the first time since entering Ahrisham’s chambers, he felt the tension ease. It was as though he had reached a breaking point - beyond which there was only one way forward: downward.

“There is some merit to your words.” He began with an exhale. “Perhaps I have tangled with the nobles of Canterlot for too long. Their now all-too-familiar intrigues have grown bland and boring.”

Ahrisham tilted her head, listening.

“I can’t quite put my hoof on it, but something about this exchange feels… thrilling.”

“It’s all about the stakes.” Ahrisham said softly.

He glanced at her, the previously hostile shadow in his eyes all but gone, replaced by a spark of curiosity.

“Intrigue in Canterlot is little more than a dance of geldings.” She reasoned. “No one really gains or loses anything in the petty affairs that take place here.” She set her empty teacup on the table with a soft click, as if to accent her point.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He retorted. “Outdoing the competition and gaining the Crown’s favor are hardly petty pursuits - especially when entire fortunes can hinge on a single, lucrative deal.”

“Yes, but in the end, all they risk is their wealth.” She countered. “No one here dies under mysterious circumstances, nor is anyone pulled from a well or found years later, dried up inside a collapsed wall. There are no bloody vendettas, no clans clashing in endless feuds.”

A cold shiver ran down Blueblood’s spine at her words. Was that truly how Saddle Arabians conducted their internal struggles? He could hardly fathom ordering somepony to ‘disappear,’ let alone speaking about it with such casual indifference as if one conversed about weather!

The thought was horrifying, making him almost regret dismissing that Crystal Pony guard and wondering just where Perplexity had gone… And yet, it fascinated him.

“Devious…” The prince breathed. “I see that Desert Ponies shy from no trick to gain the upper hoof over an opponent.”

“It is a necessity.” Ahrisham replied plainly. “Our foes - political, ideological, or otherwise - are just as, if not more, ruthless. When survival depends on the game, you either adapt or perish.”

Blueblood wondered whether she was exaggerating or not. And if not… how many died because of her decisions and how close she came to forfeiting her own life?

“And I take it you’ve continued this game even here, in Equestria?”

“Naturally.”

Blueblood hummed - a sound almost like a snort. Compared to what he just heard, Equestria’s intrigue was akin to a foal-play - toothless and gutless. He had to note however the lack of tender touch in the Saddle Arabian approach - in politics not everything was a nail and not every tool at your disposal was a hammer.

“So now I understand why you sent that creepy mare with the snake after me. You wanted me to hear your ‘message.’”

Ahrisham froze momentarily, casting a wary glance his way. Of course, she was aware of his encounter with the sand-colored soothsayer - gossip spread through Canterlot Castle faster than fire over a dry savannah. Even under house arrest, she had heard enough to guess what had transpired.

“You may not believe me, for I have not earned your trust, Prince of Equestria, but she does not answer to me.”

“That is… surprising.” Blueblood replied, tilting his head. “Isn’t she part of your retinue? Isn’t she acting on your orders?” He lifted a tiny silver fork in his magic and began picking at a piece of halvah from a nearby platter.

Speaking to Ahrisham about the cause of his nightmares was easier than he had expected.

“She is… and she is not.” Ahrisham said evasively, averting her gaze toward the pile of booklets and correspondence nearby. “One does not control a storm, merely weathers it.”

Realizing her metaphor landed poorly in Equestria, where ponies literally controlled the weather, she quickly corrected herself. “The Prophet imposed herself upon my mission to Equestria. It was not a request. I had no choice but to obey.”

“And here I thought you were somepony important in Saddle Arabia.” Blueblood quipped, leaping at the chance to strike at her ego.

Ahrisham rolled her eyes, replying in an exasperated tone. “There is no mortal authority that can command her, I’m afraid. Wise and merciful Sultan Hormazd does not question her, and neither dare I.”

After a pause, she added. “You would be prudent not to disturb the Prophet. Like me, she is under the Sultan’s protection - but she might lack the patience I have for Equestria’s bureaucracy.”

Blueblood let out a contemplative hum. This was a veiled threat, and the idea of such a figure running unchecked through Canterlot unsettled him. Still, he wasn’t the kind of stallion to let that show.

“She’s still your wild card.” He pressed. “I came here looking for answers, yet I feel as though I've got nothing but more questions.”

“Believe me, Your Highness, I, too, have questions that I know will never be answered.” Ahrisham exhaled, her shoulders sinking. “I have learned to accept it. It lifts a great weight off one’s mind.”

“Willful ignorance may bring peace to the mind, but I am not the kind of pony who embraces it willingly.” Blueblood continued, his tone sharp, his eyes hard as they bore into Ahrisham.

“I have the feeling you’re insinuating something, Your Highness.” Ahrisham’s voice was calm, but a flicker of unease danced behind her words.

“I’ll make it simple for you, my dear - indeed, I am.” Blueblood exhaled through his nose, his smirk faint but unmistakable.

Ahrisham snapped her mouth shut, her sapphire eyes searching his face for any sign of weakness. But Blueblood’s features remained an impenetrable mask, leaving her nothing to latch onto. Slowly, her ears drooped, and a trace of vulnerability crept into her posture.

“I… I had hoped to ease your mind before we began discussing business.” She admitted softly, her voice faltering. She took a shallow breath, blinking rapidly as tiny, shimmering tears welled in her eyes. They trickled down her cheeks, sinking into the fine fur of her face before she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hoof.

She fell silent, biting her lower lip as though struggling to keep her emotions in check. It was a clever tactic, one that might have swayed a lesser opponent. But Blueblood was no fool - he recognized the trick for what it was.

“Touching.” He muttered, stirring his now-cooled tea with a silver spoon, his focus shifting away from her watery gaze to his teacup. He lifted it in his magic and took a deliberate, loud slurp, the sound piercing the quiet chamber. “But I don’t think theatrics will solve your problem.”

Ahrisham straightened, her fragile demeanor fracturing as irritation seeped into her expression. “You really are making this difficult.” She huffed, burying her face in her forelegs like a scolded filly.

Blueblood chuckled softly, setting his empty teacup aside with a light click. “Believe me, your pretty face could open many doors in Canterlot.” He leaned back slightly, his tone turning wry. “But I’ve had to steel myself against fluttering eyelashes and feigned affection ever since I was a colt of twelve.”

At that, Ahrisham raised her head, one ear fixed on him while the other flicked toward some imagined noise. She studied him intently, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I received my first marriage proposal that same year.” Blueblood continued, his voice detached, almost clinical. “And countless more since.” He allowed himself a fleeting smile - empty, devoid of warmth. “It’s amazing how quickly one learns to spot insincerity.”

A heavy silence followed, weighed with contemplation. Ahrisham broke it first, unable to bear it for any longer, her voice low and hesitant. “What will happen to me?” She asked, the question trembling on her lips.

Blueblood blinked, as if shaken from a distant memory he was recalling. Straightening on his cushion, he cleared his throat and spoke slowly and deliberately. “You will fulfill three conditions. Only then will we consider your pardon.”

Ahrisham’s shoulders tensed, a flicker of nervousness flashing across her face, her perfect mask long discarded. She tried to appear composed, but the faint tremor in her crossed forelegs betrayed her.

“First…” Blueblood began. “... you will pay a handsome ransom - a single golden coin.”

“H-huh?” Ahrisham stammered, blinking in confusion.

“Yes.” He replied, his smirk growing. “But it must be a Saddle Arabian coin. I like to collect trophies, and a piece of gold from your homeland would make a fine addition to my collection.”

Though puzzled, Ahrisham didn’t protest. Her unease mingled with confusion as she slowly nodded along.

“Second.” Blueblood continued, his tone shifting to something more commanding. It was clear he would suffer no arguments. “You will use your authority as a representative of your Sultan to sign a trade agreement with Equestria.”

Ahrisham frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line as she eyed him suspiciously. “And what would this agreement exactly entail?”

“Simple.” Blueblood said, his tone deceptively light. “Equestria will be granted exclusive trade rights with Saddle Arabia. Your imports and exports will prioritize us above all others.”

“That’s…” Ahrisham’s frown deepened as she folded her forelegs tightly over her chest. “That’s too much. I cannot agree to such terms.”

“Is your freedom not worth a few concessions?” Blueblood prodded, his smirk widening as he watched her squirm.

Ahrisham’s nostrils flared in perturbation. “My freedom is everything.” She snapped. “But I will not jeopardize my homeland for it.”

Blueblood raised an eyebrow, his expression calculated. “Then what do you propose?”

She hesitated, then drew a deep breath. “I can arrange for Equestria to have a preferred status in trade.” She offered cautiously. “Your nation would be prioritized, ensuring stronger ties between our peoples, but without the leash you propose.”

“Marvelous.” Blueblood declared, clapping his hooves together, letting the little jab flow past him. His enthusiasm, clearly exaggerated, masked his satisfaction. “That leaves us with the final condition.”

Ahrisham’s ears pinned back, her breath hitching as she braced herself for his next demand, fully expecting it to be as egregious as the others.

Blueblood allowed the silence to stretch, savoring her discomfort. Finally, he spoke, his tone dripping with smugness. “You came to Equestria seeking to understand our culture, our way of life. I propose we grant you that wish…”

Ahrisham’s eyes widened, her jaw tightening as she stammered, “Y-your Highness… what are you saying?”

“It’s quite simple.” Blueblood replied with mock innocence. “You will serve as my attendant for the remainder of your stay. You wanted to see Equestria - now you will, through the eyes of one who serves.”

Her expression shifted from confusion to shock, then to something bordering on indignation. Blueblood, meanwhile, sat back with a satisfied smile, his gaze never leaving hers.

“This is outrageous!” Ahrisham protested, her cheeks flushing with a faint shade of crimson in her chagrin. “You can’t expect me to agree to such terms!”

“Oh, but I do.” Prince Blueblood mused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Comply, or you can forget about leaving these quarters anytime soon.”

Ahrisham muttered something under her breath - a series of barely audible words in her native tongue. Blueblood couldn’t make out even a single one, but for all he knew, she could be cursing his name. Not that he cared. He had already won. It was only a matter of time before she came crawling to him to accept the deal.

He allowed for a little pause, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the sombre note of resignation.

“It appears I have no other choice.” She sounded defeated and looked the part - shoulders sagging, ears drooped. Even the colors of her mane and fur seemed to dull, though Blueblood suspected it was just a trick of the light. “It is not the first time I have been made a slave.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Blueblood said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “And do spit out that word - ‘slave,’ pah!” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “We do not engage in such barbarity in Equestria.”

“Oh, but you do.” She shot back, her voice with traces of bitterness. “The only difference lies in the name.” Ahrisham straightened, lifting her chin in defiance, her posture regaining some of its regal dignity.

“Pardon?” Blueblood blinked, momentarily thrown off balance.

Her dark eyes bore into his, sharp and unyielding, seeming to pierce straight through him. “You say I have a choice.” she said coldly. “But we both know there is only one path forward. Refusal will gain me nothing, only prolong my imprisonment here.” She was quivering with frustration, a one more sign that confinement had begun to wear on her.

“You’re right.” Blueblood admitted, his smirk growing smug. “But nopony - certainly not I - ever claimed your punishment would be pleasant.”

Ahrisham’s jaw tightened, and more words slipped from her lips in her native tongue, no doubt more curses. She locked eyes with Blueblood, her glare full of defiance.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, the fight draining from her. “Fine.” She spat, her wings clipped. “I agree to your terms.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The doors leading to Ahrisham’s sanctum closed with a decisive thud. In contrast the quiet of the corridor of the Diplomatic Wing felt almost oppressive after the tense exchange, though Prince Blueblood found it oddly soothing.

He allowed himself a small smirk. The negotiation - or battle, depending on one's perspective - had ended in his favor. Ahrisham had bent to his will, agreeing to every term he had set. By all accounts, it was a triumph.

Yet, as his hooves echoed softly against the marble floor, the taste of victory grew bitter. He had played the game well, but it hadn’t been clean. She had been cornered, stripped of options, and he’d taken full advantage of her predicament.

Blueblood let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. Perhaps… a little indulgence is in order. He reached into his coat, pulling out a slim, ornate silver case that he hadn’t touched in years. Inside were neatly packed sticks of finely rolled tobacco herb, a luxury few ponies could afford. He had abandoned the habit ages ago - an aristocratic vice he’d told himself was unbecoming. But now, he was tempted.

Just as he was about to light the tip with a spark of his magic, a familiar voice jolted him from his thoughts.

“Well, well! Aren’t you just full of surprises today?”

Blueblood jumped, fumbling the case as Perplexity dropped from the shadows above, her leathery wings unfurling dramatically as she landed in front of him. The silver case clattered to the ground, its contents spilling across the floor.

“You!” Blueblood hissed, his cheeks flushing in indignation. “You traitorous bat! Where in Tartarus have you been?”

Perplexity smirked, her fangs glinting in the dim light. “Oh, just here and there. I thought you’d appreciate the chance to handle things yourself for once.”

Blueblood’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “You abandoned me.”

“You didn’t need me.” She countered breezily, inspecting one of the spilled rolls with exaggerated curiosity before tucking it safely behind her ear. “You had everything under control.”

“That’s not the point!” He snapped, his voice low and venomous.

Perplexity tilted her head, her expression playfully innocent. “Isn’t it, though? You’re standing here, aren’t you? You won, didn’t you? Even if it was a bit…” She trailed off, waving a hoof in a vague circle.

“Dirty.” Blueblood finished, his tone surprisingly filled with self-recrimination. He sighed, his gaze drifting to the far end of the corridor. “I cornered her, Perplexity. Gave her no real choice.”

“That’s politics.” Perplexity shrugged. “And if you hadn’t, she would’ve done the same to you in a heartbeat. You know that.”

“I do.” He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But knowing it doesn’t make it feel any less… wrong.”

Perplexity studied him for a moment, her glowing, yellow eyes losing some of their mischief. “What now, then?”

Blueblood didn’t answer immediately. He bent down, gathering the scattered contents of his case with careful touch of his magic, as if the act itself might provide clarity. When he finally straightened, his expression was unreadable.

He said simply, his voice devoid of its usual bravado.

“I don’t know.”