One Thousand and One Neighs

by Drakkanien
edited by a friend

Any self-respecting Equestrian noblepony would scoff at the idea of performing manual labor. To them, such tasks were beneath their station, meant only for those less fortunate who weren’t born into the right family at the right time. They would never entertain the thought that this might be unfair or entirely against the egalitarian ideals that Equestria, under Princess Celestia’s gentle guidance, had promoted for centuries.

Which is why most of them, if they had any idea, would look with barely disguised disgust at a certain Saddle Arabian mare trotting cheerfully alongside Prince Blueblood, completely unbothered by the satchel slung across her side or her servile obedience to his every beck and call. To some, it seemed an overtly sycophantic attempt to curry royal favor, a behavior the Canterlot elite practiced in secret but condemned openly. Others whispered nastier rumors, hinting at an illicit dalliance between the two. Ahrisham’s abrupt disappearance from public view nearly two weeks ago only fueled such gossip.

Both Blueblood and Ahrisham were aware of the attention they received, but neither cared to explain the true reason behind their arrangement. The mystery only added to the speculation.

To Blueblood’s mild surprise, Ahrisham had adjusted quickly to her new duties, despite her initial indignation. She proved dutiful, quick on her hooves, and adept at anticipating his needs, almost as if she could read his mind. What surprised him even more was how easily she had bonded with Lavender over the last few days, his ever-efficient maid. The two mares, despite their starkly different upbringings, had found a common tongue and seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

It made Blueblood reconsider her earlier claim of having been a slave in the past. As uncomfortable as the thought was, there was a certain truth to her effortless servitude that lent credibility to her words. For a fleeting moment, he tried to imagine what it might feel like to live as a slave - bound entirely to another’s will, with no hope of escape. But the thought was too alien, too disconcerting to hold onto for long, and he quickly pushed it aside.

“Next on the agenda…” Ahrisham’s melodic voice interrupted his musings. She held a lengthy scroll aloft in the cool, blue flames of her magic, a sight that had initially made him panic, fearing the parchment would catch fire. Instead, he now knew that her magical aura was gentle and cool to the touch. “...tea with Auntie?”

Blueblood’s ears flattened, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The word on the list was certainly there, of course, he was the one who composed it after all. In any other scenario he would be proud of his heritage, however around Ahrisham…

“Who is this aunt?” Ahrisham asked, tilting her head curiously as if a new angle would reveal a name not written on the scroll.

With a small, flustered cough, Blueblood replied: “Princess Celestia…”

He intended to say more, but he was promptly interrupted by an overly dramatic gasp from Ahrisham as realization dawned on her.

“Oooh! So you really are directly related to the Princesses?” She exclaimed, bouncing slightly on the tips of her hooves. Despite her size and long legs her movements were surprisingly light and graceful.

“I am.” Blueblood replied, biting back a growl that threatened to escape his throat. “And I have already told you to address me properly - ‘Your Highness,’ ‘My Lord Prince,’ or just ‘Prince.’ ” His tone was exasperated; this was a conversation they’d had far too many times already.

Ahrisham continued her playful prancing, rolling up the scroll and slipping it back into Blueblood’s satchel with practiced ease. “Of course.” She said smugly, clearly relishing his irritation. “But we are in a fairly… casual setting right now.” She glanced around conspiratorially, as if to ensure no one was around. “There’s no need for such formalities.”

Blueblood sputtered, nearly tripping over his own hooves. It took him a moment to regain his composure.

“But I do insist!” He snapped, stomping his hooves more forcefully as he marched ahead. “Truly, Saddle Arabians have no refinement!”

The light clatter of hooves followed him, a stark reminder that there was no escaping his tormentor. Ahrisham was not only faster than him but also bound by her duty - one he had imposed upon her. He was beginning to realize, with increasing dismay, that she had decided to make her servitude as irritating as possible while staying just within the bounds of propriety. Truly, she was a devious adversary.

Resigned, Blueblood let out a sigh. “At the very least, try to address me as ‘Sir’ in informal settings. Is that really so much to ask?”

Ahrisham responded with a playful hum, catching up to him effortlessly. She appeared to ponder his request mockingly before speaking in her native tongue. “Thātiy pariyarta.” She said, her tone teasing.

Blueblood had no idea what she meant, but the mischievous glint in her eye told him it was nothing good.

He really needed to learn the tongue of desert ponies.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Afternoon teas with Princess Celestia were anything but routine. Ostensibly reserved for the most esteemed dignitaries, they often became quiet interludes in her day - her guests, wary of the intimidating presence of the Sun Princess, frequently found reasons to bow out. Their absence, whether from awe or trepidation, gifted Celestia something rarer than gold in the life of a ruler: a moment of solitude.

Prince Blueblood, however, was impervious to such unspoken barriers. Few creatures in existence - aside from Luna herself - held the privilege of crossing Celestia’s threshold unannounced, or disrupting her duties without consequence. It was a rare allowance, one he exercised sparingly… unlike a certain other unicorn whose name was most certainly not Blueblood.

Today’s tea was held in an unusual spot - near the aviary in the Royal Gardens.

This particular aviary, located below Celestia’s private balcony, was unique among the castle’s collection. While other aviaries housed messenger pigeons, birds of prey, or songbirds, this one catered exclusively to the most magnificent of birds: Philomena, Celestia’s fiery pet phoenix. The structure, built of brass and enchanted glass, had been magically reinforced to withstand the bird’s temper. Yet, no pony had witnessed the stress test of these spells firsthand, for Philomena, though capricious, had been content thus far.

The phoenix in question currently perched on Celestia’s outstretched wing, nuzzling her cheek with its curved beak as the Princess murmured something inaudible.

Blueblood often wondered if Philomena knew more state and Celestia’s personal secrets than any other creature alive.

“Is that… a Sēnmurw?” Ahrisham’s voice was barely above a whisper, reverent as she leaned in, her breath warm against Blueblood’s shoulder. Her sapphire eyes, wide with wonder, reflected the golden glow of Philomena’s plumage, as if she beheld not a mere bird, but something divine.

The pair had managed to ‘sneak’ into the gardens unnoticed, their stealth owing more to the guards’ unwillingness to question their Prince’s odd behavior than any skill on Blueblood’s part.

“I have no idea what a ‘Sen-mufw’ is…” Blueblood replied in a conspiratorial tone, butchering the word. “That’s my aunt’s pet phoenix.”

“How did she manage to tame one?” Ahrisham asked, though it was clear she expected no answer.

Blueblood merely shrugged. “Princess of the Sun. Phoenix. Fire, renewal… It’s obvious they’re drawn to one another.” He said dismissively, reciting platitudes with little thought. Yet, to his surprise, Ahrisham nodded solemnly, clearly mystified by yet another facet of Celestia’s godlike aura.

For the first time, it struck Blueblood just how mythical his aunts must seem to outsiders. To Equestrians, they were rulers, ancient and however revered, but to foreigners, they must seem like beings out of legend.

The thought made him uncomfortable, prompting him to shake it off. History, after all, rarely immortalized Princes who toiled in the realm of politics, no matter their talent.

“I thought I heard your voice, nephew.” Celestia’s warm tone broke through his musings.

Before he could protest, Celestia’s wings unfurled silently, sweeping him into an embrace both smothering and inescapable. Her forelegs tightened around him, while the familiar faint scent of vanilla filled his nostrils. For all his flailing, he might as well have been a colt again, caught in the unwavering affection of his aunt.

“Auntie, no!” Blueblood yelped, his hooves arcing through the air as he was smothered in feathers.

From behind him, he heard Ahrisham’s barely suppressed snicker, making his ears burn with embarrassment.

After what felt like an eternity, Celestia finally released him. Blueblood staggered back, his mane disheveled, his collar askew, and his bowtie crooked. His ears were hot with indignation, but one look at Celestia’s radiant smile melted away his scowl.

“That was entirely unnecessary, Auntie.” He huffed, adjusting his bowtie with a poke of his magic.

“Perhaps.” Celestia replied with a playful chirp, using her primaries to fuss over his mane. “But I couldn’t help myself. I haven’t seen you in over a week - I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

Blueblood hesitated, suddenly aware of how much time he’d spent preoccupied with his own duties and Ahrisham’s servitude. Was he avoiding his aunt? He dismissed the thought quickly, scoffing theatrically.

“Certainly not! I’ve simply been occupied at the most inconvenient times.” He declared, his words sounding less convincing than he intended.

Celestia’s knowing smile did nothing to alleviate his discomfort. “Of course.” She replied gently, her tone making it clear she didn’t believe him but wasn’t about to press the issue.

Their moment was interrupted by a shadow overhead. Philomena swooped low, startling Ahrisham into taking a step backward, before landing with a disgruntled caw on a nearby branch. The phoenix immediately began tearing into an acacia seed pod with little regard for the sharp thorns surrounding it.

Celestia’s eyes flicked toward Ahrisham. “I didn’t expect you to bring company, nephew.”

Ahrisham, who had been pretending to admire the flora, turned sharply and bowed low, her barrel almost brushing the ground. “Your Majesty.”

For a moment, Blueblood could swear, there was a flicker of something cunning in her expression, something she deftly hid behind the mask of a meek servant.

“Please, rise.” Celestia said kindly, though Blueblood noted the faint weariness in her eyes. Protocol and formality, however necessary, had always been a burden to her, especially in such a familiar setting.

Ahrisham straightened gracefully, standing almost at eye level with Celestia herself. The flicker he spotted a moment earlier was still present in her eye.

Exhaling through his nose, Blueblood dismissed the thought, now speaking to his dear Aunt.

“Don’t mind her.” Blueblood insisted, stepping forward and nudging Celestia with his shoulder. “Let’s walk.”

Celestia allowed herself to be guided, falling into step beside him. Her gait was slow, matching his uneven pace as he limped slightly.

“What happened to your leg?” She asked, her gaze lingering on his bandaged hoof.

“It’s nothing,” Blueblood grumbled. “Stepped on some glass.”

Celestia nodded but said nothing more.

With a polite cough, Blueblood continued: “I took a look at what the Saddle Arabian delegation required of us to help with their… predicament.”

His words were enough to spur Ahrisham, who perked up slightly, her ears swiveling forward.

“Oh?” Celestia hummed, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Is that why you’ve been spending so much time around our guests of late?”

“Yes, exactly.” Blueblood jumped at the opportunity to reaffirm his stance, though his voice carried a slight defensive edge.

“And here this old mare thought you’d finally found somepony to melt your ice-cold heart~ If the rumors are anything to go by.” Celestia teased, fluttering her mighty wings as she quickened her pace, as if to escape Blueblood’s glare.

Blueblood merely snorted at her words. He’d be lying if he hadn’t expected such a jab. His rejection of any and all suitors - regardless of their titles, wealth, or influence - was practically a legend by now and the subject of endless gossip within Canterlot’s upper circles.

“Never in a million years.” He replied dryly, finding her comment more amusing than irritating

They continued their walk through the palace grounds in silence for several moments, the kind of comfortable, contemplative silence that only family could share. The stillness was broken only by the crunch of gravel underhoof and the light flutter of wings overhead.

It wasn’t the shadow of an overzealous Pegasus guard; instead, it was Philomena. The phoenix had decided not to let Celestia wander out of her sight and now glided lazily above them.

Finally breaking the stillness, Celestia spoke, her voice low and gentle, yet perfectly audible in the calm of the garden.

“Your appearance at the Golden Grace Gathering caused quite a stir.” She evened out her pace, allowing both the Prince and his ‘attendant’ to catch up. “Nothing out of turn, of course, but when even the maids are gossiping, I knew something extraordinary must have happened.”

The corners of Blueblood’s lips twitched in a faint smile - indeed, wherever Equestria’s Prince went, his presence attracted all manner of attention, further fueling his vanity. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, however, he was swiftly cut off.

“Your ability to perceive things for what they are is truly remarkable, Your Majesty.” Ahrisham interjected, her tone oozing with teasing amusement.

Blueblood clamped his mouth shut, biting back a sharp retort. He noted with growing irritation how brazenly she inserted herself into the conversation, acting as though she belonged.

“Oh, please~” Celestia’s mirthful laughter rang through the garden. “That kind of flattery grows stale quickly, and there’s no need to address me so reverently.”

“I couldn’t help myself, Princess.” Ahrisham smirked, stifling the remnants of a chuckle.

To Blueblood’s astonishment, their conversation shifted effortlessly into a casual, almost playful exchange. The formal masks reserved for rulers and emissaries fell away the moment they tested the waters, and what shocked him most was how easily Ahrisham adapted. Just a moment before she had spoken of Celestia with the reverence of a devout believer, yet here she was, chatting with her like an equal.

“It was quite the event as well.” Blueblood interjected, seizing the opportunity to steer the discussion back under his control. He cast Ahrisham a sharp glare - subtle enough that Celestia wouldn’t notice, yet pointed enough to convey his displeasure. Naturally, Ahrisham met his gaze without the slightest hint of intimidation. She was not an Equestrian noble, meek and deferential; she was something else entirely - something far more infuriatingly spirited.

“Ah, yes, you did make quite an impression.” Celestia mused with a knowing smile, as if oblivious to the game the two were playing. “I heard quite a few ponies remark on how striking you looked that evening, dear nephew.”

Blueblood’s chest puffed slightly. “I dare say I carried myself with all the dignity expected of a Prince.” He said with practiced ease, carefully omitting the part where his patience had been tested throughout the evening by his always-present crowd of sycophants and Ahrisham’s antics.

“Oh, I have no doubt.” Celestia replied with a twinkle in her eye. “And it seems your presence alone was enough to draw in the generosity of Equestria’s elite. It’s only been a day, and the charity has already surpassed its goal.”

Prince dipped his head in a tiny nod, his mind already wandering elsewhere.

As the trio approached a small reflecting pond, its surface calm and mirror-like, Blueblood stepped to the edge. His hooves clopped lightly against the smooth stones bordering the water. He stared down at his reflection: arctic-blue eyes framed by a mane that, while once impeccable, now had several strands sticking out at odd angles. The aftermath of Celestia’s earlier embrace, no doubt.

Exhaling softly, he used his magic to pull a comb from the inner pocket of his suit. With meticulous care, he straightened the unruly strands, forcing them back into place. His reflection, now restored, gazed back at him impassively.

“Ahrisham.” Celestia began, her pronunciation of the name uncannily precise, as if she had not only studied the Saddle Arabian tongue but mastered it.

The mare in question stiffened, as if struck by an electric jolt. Her posture straightened instantly, and her sapphire eyes darted toward the Princess.

“I am aware of, and have my suspicions about, the nature of your ‘agreement’ with my nephew.” Celestia continued calmly, stopping a few paces away from Blueblood. “But I’d rather hear the details from you than rely on court gossip.”

Always elegant, always poised, yet ever-watchful. Prince Blueblood admired his aunt, but there was something deeply unsettling about how effortlessly she seemed to everything that happened in her court. She influenced others without moving a single feather.

He gulped involuntarily, feeling there was more to this seemingly innocent question that it initially appeared, pretending to adjust his groomed mane. One ear, however, remained turned toward the conversation, unable to help but listen.

“Your perception, once more, astonishes me, Your Majesty.” Ahrisham said carefully, her gaze flicking toward Blueblood as though gauging his reaction.

What surprised him wasn’t her words, but her expression. There was no trace of nervousness or unease. Instead, her lips curled in a gentle smile, her sapphire eyes shimmering with amusement, as though she were privy to some inside joke at his expense.

It only further served to deepen the pit in his stomach. Somehow he just knew things would get more… difficult from this point onwards.

“I had hoped to play this game a bit longer.” She mused, twirling a hoof in the air in a gesture of mock innocence. “But alas - it seems I’ve been caught.”

Celestia’s hum was light, but her keen eyes betrayed a deeper curiosity. “The Saddle Arabians I’ve known would never tolerate such treatment as you’ve endured here. Their pride would not allow it.”

Blueblood’s ears twitched at the revelation. In his mind, Saddle Arabians were little more than barbarians - self-important and vengeful. That he failed to recognize the irony in his own arrogance went entirely unnoticed.

Ahrisham responded with a soft chuckle, lowering her gaze as if in quiet amusement. “That is true, Princess. While we are not known for short tempers, we do have an overabundance of pride.”

“Oh, I know.” Celestia chuckled, fanning herself lightly with a wing. “I remember the feuding clans and their endless battles for honor. Some things never change.”

“Indeed, they do not.” Ahrisham agreed, her tone still light, but her smile had shifted - less playful now, more thoughtful. “If anything, those rivalries have only grown more… complex since the war of unification.”

Blueblood frowned slightly. There was something about the way she said it - something careful, as though weighing her words.

“And yet, here you are, accepting such treatment with remarkable patience.” Celestia noted, her voice as gentle as ever, yet unmistakably pointed.

Ahrisham let the silence stretch for a moment before responding, tilting her head in feigned thoughtfulness. “Perhaps I have my reasons, Your Majesty.” She glanced at Blueblood, her expression unreadable. “Perhaps some things are best endured… until the proper moment presents itself.”

Blueblood stiffened at that, but before he could form a retort, Celestia’s voice interrupted - softer this time, almost musing.

“Would you say what’s happened to you here in Equestria could spark such a feud?”

Ahrisham’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Under different circumstances? Perhaps.”

Blueblood almost spat - ‘different circumstances?’ What could she mean by it? What was her end goal that made her act so meekly and docile till now? He recalled every demeaning moment he imposed upon Ahrisham, recalling she always acted with little to no hesitation, always moaning and questioning his decisions, but never directly disobeying him. Could it be all a ploy on her part?

Ahrisham turned her gaze fully onto Blueblood, her usual teasing now completely gone, replaced by something more dangerous. “After all, the capture of a noble… the forced servitude of a member of a ruling house…” She exhaled, almost wistfully. “Such things have been the cause of wars before.”

As she listed the transgressions, Blueblood felt his throat tighten, the sweat on his neck growing cold. Her words struck him like a blow, and the implications of his petty revenge surged through his mind with uncomfortable clarity.

“I do not know what you are implying.” Blueblood began, his voice low and strained, despite his best efforts to appear composed. “And I do not appreciate the tone with which you address Equestria’s royalty.”

Ahrisham’s smile never wavered. “All I’m saying, Your Grace, is that if I wished, I could pull strings as well as you - or perhaps better - to achieve my ends.” Her words were sweet, but carried an unmistakable sharpless, enough to cut.

Blueblood’s narrowed gaze remained fixed on her, scrutinizing every shift in her expression. Until now, he had dismissed her as a starstruck foreigner - easy to intimidate, easy to manipulate. But now he realized he might have misjudged her entirely.

“I’ve noticed Equestrians have a habit of underestimating ponies of the desert.” Ahrisham continued, her tone conversational as she turned back to Celestia. “The few books I’ve read about Saddle Arabia merely skim the surface of our culture. It’s no wonder there’s such ignorance about our customs.”

Blueblood exhaled sharply through his nose, a flicker of irritation flashing in his pale blue eyes. His hoof came down with a clipped, deliberate stomp, the sound cutting through the garden’s tranquil hush. Every instinct urged him to turn, to distance himself from this unsettling conversation - but a single glance at Celestia held him in place, her quiet scrutiny weighing heavier than any spoken reprimand.

Though her expression remained calm, the faint line of her lips and the slight furrow of her brow spoke volumes. It wasn’t anger, exactly, but something far more potent - disappointment. And Blueblood had no desire to find out what lay beyond it.

“I already told you, Prince.” Ahrisham continued, her voice cutting through the tension like a desert wind. “Equestria’s politics may favor a soft touch, but Saddle Arabians are not afraid to get their hooves dirty.”

Prince Blueblood let out yet another agitated huff through his nostrils, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface becoming palpable. He hadn’t anticipated being so effortlessly cornered - especially not in front of Aunt Celestia, of all ponies. The realization stung worse than Ahrisham’s thinly veiled threats.

“Are you quite finished?” He snapped, his voice strained with forced indifference. His pale blue eyes locked onto Ahrisham, who now wore a smug, almost predatory grin. It was infuriatingly difficult to maintain his usual air of disdain when faced with such unshaken confidence. He had never seen her so bold before, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“You’ve proven yourself to be a far greater headache than I ever anticipated when I - graciously - granted you the honor of being my attendant.” He straightened his posture, puffing out his chest in what he hoped was a display of authority. “I hereby relieve you of that honor. You are dismissed.”

He stomped his hoof for emphasis, as if to declare the matter settled. But even as he spoke, he could hear the slight tremor in his own voice, betraying his unease.

Ahrisham’s response was not what he expected.

She let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, rolling her shoulders as if she had just shrugged off a heavy burden. “Oh, thank the Sun, Moon, and Stars above!” She declared, her voice thick with mock gratitude.

Blueblood’s jaw tightened. “I would assume you’d take this opportunity to learn some proper manners.” He attempted to channel Celestia’s signature tone of benevolent disappointment. He failed spectacularly - his voice came out more petulant than princely. “Clearly, my efforts to instill some refinement in you were wasted.”

“The lesson was not mine to learn.” Ahrisham tutted, her magic twirling a single lock of her golden mane as her piercing sapphire eyes remained locked onto his. “I find it amusing that even now, you fail to grasp the situation at hoof.”

Her words were deceptively light, but the sting in them was unmistakable. Blueblood’s eyes narrowed as the meaning sank in.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” His voice dropped to a low, frustrated growl.

“Obviously.” Ahrisham replied smoothly, her grin widening ever so slightly.

“I remind you - you are testing the patience of Equestrian royalty.” Blueblood’s growl deepened, his voice trembling with indignation. “And I will not stand for it!”

Ahrisham tilted her head slightly, utterly unfazed. “You will have to, Your Grace - for there is no other option.”

Something in her tone made him freeze.

The teasing lilt was gone, replaced by something sharp, unyielding - dangerous.

He didn’t know what exactly it was, but the unfamiliar weight of it pressed against his chest, setting his instincts on high alert. He felt the overwhelming urge to extract himself from the conversation, to leave, to remove himself from whatever this was before it could spiral further out of his control.

Even if it meant damaging his reputation.

Even if it meant running for the proverbial hills.

But just as he lifted a hoof to take a step back, Ahrisham’s voice cut through his hesitation, rooting him in place.

“It dawns on me that you don’t fully understand the role I play here.” Ahrisham began to pace, her gait measured and steady, just as they had been when she first entered the throne room upon arriving in Canterlot. Once again, she assumed that very same enigmatic air of an exotic mare who effortlessly commanded the attention of everypony around her.

Regaining some of his composure, Blueblood shook his head, yet his voice was more unsteady than he would have liked. “I don’t, nor do I care, but…” He let out an exaggerated sigh, hanging his head as if she were forcing some great burden upon him. With a flick of his hoof, he gestured for her to continue. “...I suppose I have no choice but to listen to your prattling.”

“You’d be correct on that.” Ahrisham’s grin widened, her satisfaction all too apparent. She was enjoying this far too much.

“With your aunt’s approval, Saddle Arabia will receive the support we so desperately need.” She paused then, halting directly in front of him, demanding his full attention. It was an imposition he could not easily ignore. Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze, meeting her sharp, knowing eyes.

“You chose to avoid me for the entirety of my stay, to the great disappointment of many.” Her words were measured, deliberate. “Including your aunt, whose grace I cannot overstate.”

Blueblood hesitated. His ears flicked back in irritation, but her words nagged at him. He cast another glance toward Celestia, searching for some sign of disapproval or intervention. Instead, she remained utterly serene, offering him no reprieve. For a fleeting moment, he entertained the absurd idea that this had all been orchestrated by his aunt - some elaborate test or punishment. But the thought was so ludicrous that he dismissed it outright.

“What is your point?” His voice was clipped, barely concealing his growing aggravation.

Ahrisham studied him carefully, her expression softening just enough to make him wary. “At first, I didn’t understand why you were so hostile towards me and my mission, Prince.” Her tone had lost its earlier sharpness, the shift subtle yet calculated. “But after learning more about you, I believe I’ve uncovered the reason.”

Blueblood’s brow arched. His expression remained sour, but there was a flicker of curiosity beneath his irritation. “Oh?” He drawled, feigning disinterest.

“After spending time with you, I realized something.” Ahrisham’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “You respect only one thing - power.”

A derisive snort escaped him. “Is that all?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You act as if you’ve made some grand discovery. Stating the obvious won’t earn you any points.”

Unfazed, Ahrisham pressed on. “Given your position, it’s understandable. It also explains why my attempts at playing your game - at mimicry of Equestria’s soft approach - failed.” She tilted her head, observing him like a predator sizing up prey. “But now I see it clearly, Prince. You would feel right at home in Saddle Arabia.”

His ears twitched at that.

“You and I are not so different in the end.” Her eyes were boring into his with uncanny intensity.

Blueblood studied her, torn between insult and disbelief. He had never thought much of Saddle Arabian ponies, nor of their nobility, viewing them as little more than barbaric desert lords, ruling over a backward and uncivilized land. Yet… now she dared to compare him to them, as if such an absurd notion could even be entertained.

Ahrisham didn’t waver. If anything, the infuriatingly triumphant smirk stretching across her face only deepened, as though she relished his outrage.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me,” Blueblood scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “We are nothing alike - just as a swan cannot be likened to a filthy pigeon.”

His words were unkind, undiplomatic, and unbecoming of a Prince who had spent years refining his poise and restraint. And yet, this mare, this insufferable Saddle Arabian, had managed to unravel it all within moments. She was a plague upon his patience, a test of his composure, and worst of all - she knew it.

Before he could strike again with another cutting remark, a voice, soft yet razor-sharp, sliced through the air.

“Nephew.”

Celestia’s tone was calm, kind even, but it carried the weight of command. It was not a raised voice that silenced a room, nor a reprimand filled with fury - it was something far worse.

It was disappointment.

The moment the word left her lips, both Blueblood and Ahrisham fell silent, their gazes snapping toward her. The Sun Princess did not so much as blink beneath their attention, radiating the quiet, effortless authority that had kept Equestria in balance for centuries.

The weight of his words settled upon him all at once, a heavy chain of shame wrapping around his chest. Blueblood clenched his jaw, his ears flicking back, but not out of guilt - no, his anger remained, but it was never directed at himself. Instead, it burned hotter for the primitive desert mare who had so skillfully pushed him to this edge.

Celestia exhaled softly, her eyes searching his face.

“I understand your frustrations…” She said, her voice as gentle as ever. “This is, after all, a delicate matter - one that stirs emotions even in the most even-tempered of ponies.”

Ahrisham made an odd sound, something between a scoff and a suppressed chuckle. She quickly hid it behind a polite dip of her head, but the damage was done. Blueblood’s lips curled in a silent snarl, his ire reigniting at the sheer audacity of her amusement.

Celestia paid it no mind. Instead, her voice took on a new edge - cold, measured, and utterly foreign to Blueblood’s ears.

“But I will not allow you to demean a foreign envoy with such crude words.” She paused, letting her words settle like a judge delivering a verdict. “I thought better of you, and you let me down.”

The finality in her tone struck like a blow.

Blueblood stiffened. Celestia had never spoken to him like this before. In all his years at court, no matter how great his blunders, she had always guided him with patience, with gentle correction.

But today… today was different.

This day was full of surprises, and none of them were the pleasant kind.

“If I may, Your Majesty…” Ahrisham interjected, her voice smooth and measured, yet utterly unafraid to insert itself into the conversation between Princess Celestia and her nephew. Her boldness truly knew no bounds! “...I swear not to act upon the insult directed at me - a member of the Hormazd dynasty and a representative of my liege. But I do have one condition.”

Celestia’s ears flicked slightly, and though her expression remained serene, there was a glimmer of intrigue in her gaze. “I am listening.”

Both she and Blueblood were aware that Saddle Arabians - Ahrisham in particular - had leverage over them now. The weight of her position, coupled with Blueblood’s treatment of her, had created an unfavourable balance.

“While I am grateful for the aid you have already offered, I find that I require further assistance - someone well-versed in the finer points of Equestrian bureaucracy.” Ahrisham’s sapphire eyes flicked toward Blueblood, her intent clear.

Blueblood met her gaze with a sharp glare, his expression darkening, though he said nothing.

For a brief moment, Celestia merely observed Ahrisham, as though attempting to decipher her true intentions. Then, comprehension dawned in her eyes, and the corners of her lips curled into a sly, knowing smirk - one that made Blueblood’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Devious…” She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Yet it was just loud enough for both of them to hear.

Ahrisham’s grin widened ever so slightly, and she responded with nothing more than a silent, elegant nod.

Then, with all the regal grace of a sovereign delivering an edict, Celestia turned fully to Blueblood, coughed lightly into her hoof, and declared in an overjoyed tone:

“Lady Ahrisham is well within her rights to request a personal liaison - somepony to assist her with matters pertaining to Equestria’s role in this arrangement. I can think of only one pony suitable for such a prestigious and highly sensitive post. It is with great pleasure that I appoint you, my dear nephew, as the Field Attaché and Advisor Plenipotentiary Without Portfolio. Congratulations.”

Blueblood’s carefully composed mask wavered, if only for a fraction of a second. He was fully aware of what was happening - either that, or he was exerting every ounce of restraint to keep himself from reacting outright.

“It is… a great honor, I suppose…” He managed at last, his voice carefully neutral.

“What a generous gesture, Your Majesty!” Ahrisham trilled, clapping her hooves lightly in a show of exaggerated delight. “Why, I imagine the Prince would have been inconsolable had you not bestowed upon him this glorious opportunity to serve our cause!”

Celestia bestowed a radiant smile upon Ahrisham, then turned her gaze back to Blueblood, whose expression had settled into something unreadable.

“I had my doubts as to whether you were ready for such responsibility, dear nephew.” She mused, her tone almost thoughtful. “But your conduct at the latest charity has put my mind at ease. And so, you shall travel to D’ahran with Lady Ahrisham.”

Something in Blueblood’s stance stiffened - subtle, but there. His body remained still, but his eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of panic.

Celestia pressed on, her voice carrying the unmistakable weight of finality. “I trust you will fulfill your duties diligently, provide Lady Ahrisham with whatever assistance she requires, and, of course, make a good showing of yourself.” Her expression remained formal, but the telltale glint of mischief danced behind her eyes. “After all, word of your appointment is already spreading. The nobility of Canterlot will be watching your every move with great interest - eager to follow your adventures in service to both Equestria and Saddle Arabia.”

She paused, letting the implication sink in before delivering the final blow.

“In fact, I am quite certain that a certain bard, with whom you are particularly… friendly, will soon begin composing a ballad to immortalize your participation in the expedition.”

Blueblood’s ears twitched, and in a single swift motion, he lowered himself into a bow. Whether it was meant as a sign of respect or simply to hide his now-burning face was unclear. When he finally spoke, his voice was as smooth as ever, save for the faintest quaver beneath the surface.

“Your generosity, dear Aunt, truly knows no bounds. I am most… most gratified by the honor you have bestowed upon me.” Prince’s muzzle acted by itself, speaking practiced polite phrases, while his own thoughts raced in panic.

“With the matter settled, I believe we should all be on our way.” Celestia announced, her voice light and unbothered, as if she had not just sentenced her own nephew to an exile of sorts in a distant, barbaric land. She lifted her teacup delicately, which she conjured just now, taking a sip before adding. “I still have tea to finish, and Philomena will soon demand her share of salted crackers~”

Her words, paired with her serene tone, left no room for protest. The decision was final. And so, with nothing more to be said, Ahrisham and Prince Blueblood departed in opposite directions, neither willing to meet the other’s gaze. Though their paths would soon be bound together, for now, the tension between them stretched as wide as the desert that awaited.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Prince Blueblood was not in the best of moods.

He had remained locked within the confines of his chambers ever since returning from his afternoon tea with Princess Celestia, his only interactions consisting of the occasional muffled outburst - diversified, at times, by the dramatic flinging of a pillow across the room. He refused to leave, refused to acknowledge anyone at his door, save for one pony: his personal maid, Lavender.

Lavender, patient as always, ensured he had everything he needed to sustain his self-imposed isolation. In this case, an entire bucket of shaved ice drenched in thick, sweet strawberry syrup - the way he liked it.

It was neither the first nor the last time Prince Blueblood acted in such a foalish manner.

"Don’t eat it all at once, Your Grace. You know well enough it’s not good for your stomach." Lavender chided, her voice carrying the same soothing, motherly tone she often used when talking to her own foals, or to calm Equestria’s Prince from his dramatics.

“Mhm…” Blueblood grumbled, shoveling another spoonful of the frozen treat into his mouth, heedless of the way it numbed his tongue. Only his head poked out from beneath the covers, his mane a disheveled mess, his expression one of abject misery.

Lavender did not ask questions she had no business asking. It was not her place to pry - not that it stopped her from making the occasional careful remark.

"I assume things didn’t go well today?" She asked, standing a respectful distance away, her years of experience cautioning her against sudden movements. She had learned, through trial and error, that dodging airborne objects was an invaluable skill when dealing with the Prince in one of his moods.

Blueblood shot her a glare. Not just any glare - the kind that sent lesser castle staff into a panic, making them wonder if their continued employment (or existence) was in jeopardy. Alas, this had little to no effect on Lavender, who had long since built an immunity to his antics.

Sighing dramatically, Blueblood set his spoon down and, instead of eating properly, thrust his entire muzzle into the bucket of shaved ice, pressing his face against the freezing syrup.

"Mhm…" He muttered, curls of his mane flopping pathetically over his eyes.

"There, there…" Lavender intoned, her voice the picture of amused patience.

For a few long moments, neither spoke. Blueblood remained buried in his syrup-laden misery, while Lavender continued her silent vigil, waiting for the inevitable.

Sure enough, he was the first to break.

"Auntie is sending me away!" He wailed, his voice muffled by the bucket.

Lavender blinked, entirely unbothered. "Prince, please - do not be so dramatic."

Blueblood lifted his head, strands of his mane now sticky with syrup, not to mention his muzzle - his lips, cheeks and chin dripping with red. "Dramatic?! You do not understand the gravity of my situation! I am being exiled!"

Lavender arched a brow. "Exiled." She repeated flatly.

"Yes!" Blueblood threw his hooves up, gesturing wildly. "Banished! Sent away to some Celestia-forsaken desert! I might as well start composing my will!"

"You are being sent on a diplomatic assignment." Lavender corrected, unimpressed.

Blueblood huffed. "That is a very polite way of saying exile."

Lavender exhaled through her nose, pinching the bridge of her muzzle in practiced exasperation. "And how long will this dreadful ‘exile’ last?"

Blueblood hesitated, then muttered something incomprehensible.

Lavender leaned in slightly. "Pardon?"

"... A few months, perhaps." He admitted begrudgingly.

Lavender’s lips twitched. "Ah, yes. A fate worse than death."

Blueblood scowled, but before he could muster another dramatic outburst, Lavender clapped her hooves together, her expression shifting into something far too cheerful for his liking.

"Well! This is excellent news!" She declared brightly.

He squinted at her. "What?"

"This means I can finally take my long-overdue days off!" She beamed, positively glowing with excitement.

Blueblood gaped, utterly betrayed. "Lavender!"

"I adore my work, of course." She continued, entirely ignoring his aghast expression. "But I rarely have time for my family. This arrangement works out quite well for me."

Blueblood groaned, shoving his face back into the bucket. "Unbelievable. Abandoned by my own maid."

"Prince, you were planning on leaving me behind anyway." Lavender pointed out.

He flicked his syrup-coated mane at her. "I still might bring you along."

Lavender’s ears perked in alarm. "Oh, no, we had a deal! No traveling with me."

Blueblood grumbled incoherently, but said no more on the subject. She got him here - he would be the last pony to walk back on a given word.

Silence stretched between them once more, but this time, it was heavier. Less indulgent.

For all his dramatics, for all his grand declarations, the reality of his situation was beginning to settle in.

He was going to Saddle Arabia.

Alone.