No Quixote Here
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No Quixote Here

Blueblood decided he was having a good day. The Canterlot gardens were abuzz with activity, and most of it was swirling all around him, just as it should be. Ponies filled the garden nearly to the brim, enjoying the gentle yellow lanterns swathed in Neighponese paper designs that cast eerily beautiful shadows on the cobblestone paths twisting through the trees. Above them loomed the castle, the warm lights from its windows giving the night a serene yellow hue. He passed by many faces he only vaguely remembered for how much worth they were to the infrastructure of Equestria and, more importantly, his own personal coffers. He rather enjoyed the way smiles stretched the lips of every pony he passed, or how they hid their faces with a bow if they did not. There was something satisfying about making a pony look happy to see him regardless of how they felt. There was Winning Streak, who did something about cloud maintenance, here was Golden Locks who was important because she was a well-known investor in airship manufacturing. Here was another menagerie of different colored coats and manes, assortments of cutie marks that he only guessed the purpose of, ponies who in spite of all their riches never matched the magnitude of his presence. All of them smiled and bowed and self-consciously picked at their mane styles and vest collars, wondering if they were presentable to meet a prince as grand as he.

None of them really were, of course, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

“Your lordship,” said a grey earth pony mare with a gaudy mane that seemed to be curls piled up on top of each other, “I must thank you profusely for the hospitality of your house. It is an honor to be in the company of royalty, even if the Princesses did not attend.”

Blueblood smirked, though her lilting voice and the way she rolled her R’s made him inwardly cringe. “Oh yes,” he replied, “it is quite trying being the proverbial shield for my dear aunties at these social functions. They must find some way to mingle with the ‘common’ folk, after all!”

She tittered at his clever sarcasm, because of course nopony here was ‘common,’ just slightly beneath him, which still put them leagues above the peasantry. He was about to move on when the curly-maned mare spoke again. He resisted the urge to give her the cold shoulder; Celestia would pull his ear if he snubbed too many guests.

“Oh, but if your lordship is so kind, there is the matter of the royal investitures; there’s much to be said about the candidates—!”

That was perfectly all right to shrug off. He didn’t know the candidates for whatever royal office needed filling and didn’t care to. All he needed to do was put the stamp of approval or failure down. He still didn’t know which stamp he liked more.

“All in good time, all in good time,” he said with princely grace, “the Princesses have it well in hoof.”

The mare gave him a plastic smile and let him leave first before turning away.

He passed the rest of them with a fake smile carved by self-confidence. He knew most of them had an opinion of him as high as his horn—impressive though it may be. But the important thing was they all tried to fool each other, and more importantly him, into thinking they thought the world of him. Their poison-laced grins could wheedle him all they wanted; it made no difference as long as they acknowledged he was their better.

After all, it was only proper. He wasn’t called Prince Blueblood so he could show how humble he was.

At least he could indulge the adulation from the mare who walked next to him, properly and demurely silent for most of the evening. Her fur was a creamy yellow, her mane as ivory white as the foam atop a cresting wave, and her long white dress flowed delicately around her voluptuous curves, hugging her flanks with chivalrous adoration as it trailed like a marriage gown. Her doey green eyes were fixed on him and every blink was slow and methodical, like she was trying to delay the moments when he’d be out of her sight. Ah, he’d never tire of that fawning, star-struck look young mares got whenever they looked at him, how their eyes spoke of dreams carefully cultivated for years in the virgin gardens of their cloistered imaginations.

He was pretty sure her name had something to do with fruit.

“It’s such a lovely night, isn’t it, Prince Blueblood?” she simpered.

“Of course,” he replied with flawless dignity, keeping his chin up. “My dear aunties really went all out for this party.”

He didn’t even remember what it was for. But what did it matter? The Princesses were the fulcrum on which all of Equestria balanced, and he merely sat in his appointed spot, happy and content.

“Although,” the mare said, batting her eyelashes, “it’s not nearly as lovely as the time I’ve already spent with you.”

“No,” Blueblood said with an easy laugh, “it’s really not.”

She seemed to take it as a compliment and smiled. Blueblood turned to hear something some other unimportant pony said, listening only because it contained a veiled reference to his private derby project, but the mare at his side gave him a nudge on the shoulder. His ears flattened.

“So tell me,” she said in that coquettish voice mares used when they were working up some nerve, “how is it a Prince like you stays so... composed when you’re surrounded by so many flatterers? I doubt I’d be able to handle it.”

“It comes with the title, which was mine by right before I was even a twinkle in my parents’ eyes,” Blueblood replied with a toss of his mane. “We royals are born with all our gifts fully formed the moment we come into the world. One is not simply given this position. They are a kind of pony as unique as the Princesses themselves! I am descended from the very first unicorns to come from the Old Kingdoms, who laid the first stone in Canterlot before the Princesses ever came to Equestria. Composure and decorum is in my blood.”

The mare’s lips made an exaggerated ‘o’ shape. “Is that so? Such a grand lineage. I had no idea your family went so far back!”

Blueblood put a hoof on his chest. “Just one of my many points of pride.”

“Can nopony achieve greatness if they are not like you?”

“Only if they are destined to. Of course I am, and always have been, a great pony. Apart from the Princesses, nopony is like me.”

The mare’s ear flicked back down the path they had come from, peering over her shoulder at one of the many grand fountains most of the party had congregated around.

“It seems some would take dispute with that,” said the mare, squinting to look through the veritable sea of powdered manes and beribboned dresses. A voice called out from amidst the masses, a voice Blueblood knew all too well.

“Ladies and gentleponies, may I present to you the guests of honor at tonight’s soiree, the heroes of our great nation, the mares to whom we owe our lives many times over: the bearers of the Elements of Harmony!”

Blueblood spun around, struck by a lightning bolt of sharp realization. “What?! How dare he—!”

“The Elements of Harmony are here?!”the mare next to him squealed. Her hoof flew to her lips. “Oh my, it’s too early! Is my dress straight? I have to get a glimpse of them!”

Blueblood’s nostrils flared. It was too early. “Out of my way!” he demanded, shoving in front of the mare more to vent his frustration at being shown-up than because he needed any room on the wide path. He broke into a cold sweat as he pondered all the possible ways he would be reprimanded for this level of royal neglect. And to top it all off, a pony he loathed quite particularly had stolen his thunder.

Hayseeds, Blueblood, you had one job! Granted, it wasn’t a job fitting your royal person, but if Celestia finds out... never mind! Time to deal with an upstart.

“Fancypants!” he roared over the dignified cheers of the crowd. He bull-rushed them, desperate to get through before he caught the eye of a certain purple-maned terror.

“Out of my way you common piles of peasantry!” he snapped at their bewildered faces, using his large-but-perfectly-proportioned figure to heave them aside. All of a sudden it became easier as they parted like the very gates of Canterlot, very nearly making him trip over his own hooves in his haste. His blood froze in his veins as he found himself alone and exposed in the middle of the pathway, with six mares he wanted to avoid like the plague were suddenly right there, arrayed in an impenetrable line and walking straight towards him. Panic almost gripped him. Almost. A real prince didn’t panic; that’s what the commoners were for

“Curses!” Blueblood hissed, skidding on his hooves as he turned on a dime and slithered behind a nearby row of bushes just in time to avoid the procession. He couldn’t afford to be spotted by them, and especially not by her so soon into the evening. He watched them go by, all dressed in resplendent finery no doubt designed by that alabaster harridan on the right. Look at her, soaking up all the attention that should be on him! Her eyes were closed as she basked in the cheers and well-wishes of the crowd, no doubt the only reason she hadn’t spotted him. She was so close he could see her curly mane bouncing daintily with each step, and resisted the urge to stick out a hoof and trip her in the middle of her triumph.

Patience, he told himself. Correct Fancypants now. Revenge later.

Carefully avoiding every twig, bramble and branch, he slid out behind them and aimed straight for the stallion who trailed them.

“Fancypants!” he growled through gritted teeth, grabbing the stallion by the tail with his magic and yanking him down a side path, out of sight and earshot of most of the others. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Fancypants was nonplussed, straightening out his tail and top hat. He replaced his monocle, which had fallen off after Blueblood snatched him, and shrugged.

“It seems to me I’m doing your job, your highness,” he said with such imperial condescension that Blueblood was almost impressed by his audacity. “I do believe your role was to welcome our esteemed guests to their party, but you weren’t at the door, and I was, and, well, here we both are. Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“You cad! You insufferable, insignificant stallion!” Blueblood raged. “That was my royal duty! You can’t just swoop in and steal my moment in the spotlight. You’re not even of proper blood!”

Fancypants smiled. It looked far too much like one of Blueblood’s own smiles. The Prince felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine.

“My dear, dear boy. You haven’t the slightest idea what you’re on about, do you? Even if you stood at the door at the appointed time, said your lines perfectly and escorted those lovely fillies all the way down the walkway, you would be in their shadow, where unimportant stallions like you and I deserve to be.”

Blueblood gaped and boggled at Fancypants’ outright insubordination. “I... No! I am not unimportant! I am a prince and I will not be talked down to like that!”

“Nopony does that intentionally, Blueblood. You’ve made yourself small enough that it just comes naturally.” Fancypants wiggled his moustache. “Perhaps the presence of those fine mares inspires me, along with the many shots of whiskey I’ve had to gather the courage to do this, but... Prince Blueblood, you ceased being important a long time ago.”

“You stole my spot!”

“And nopony seemed to care, old bean, because they had eyes only for the true great ponies here. You’re a prince without a kingdom. You know the only thing sadder than a pony who isn’t important? One who thinks he still is.”

Blueblood wilted, sputtering for something, anything to strike the fear of Celestia into this common-born rich pony’s heart. “I’ll... I’ll have you thrown in the dungeon for those words!”

“Just try, my boy. Just try.”

Fancypants marched off without another word. Blueblood dropped onto his haunches, his mouth hanging open. In the space of one arrival and a few choice words, his special night had been utterly ruined—again—by those silly, ridiculous mares who had power they didn’t deserve in the slightest.

And yet, Fancypants’ words rang true. He watched as pony after pony passed him by, eager to be in the train of those six mares who had stumbled into their heroism. In an instant every eye had gone from him to them, like some kind of pony in a booth turned all their heads with a crank of a wheel and stole away his attention. Blueblood felt very much unbalanced, almost as if a rug had been swept out from underneath him. He staggered back to his hooves, watching a gay young couple laugh and titter as they hurried to meet their heroes. The Elements of Harmony had stopped at one of the open areas, shaking hooves and schmoozing like they had done it all their lives, save for that one shy little pegasus he never bothered to get the name of. Shutterfree or something like that.

Peering around a tree, he felt something in him snap. Too many parties had gone just like this. Too many days watching his royal house slip away into obscurity as Celestia’s favored pet and her silly, rude, obnoxious friends had gone off and just become household names, sweeping Equestria off its hooves. It was easy for them. Too easy. Only he deserved to pick up heroism like that!

Something simply had to be done.

He barely slept a wink last night, even though he’d gone home from the party early. Not that anypony cared. The next morning, as bright and cheerful as it was, only served as a horrible, impertinent contrast to his dour mood. He wasn’t having a good day at all, so why should everypony else? At least he had an authority to go to whenever his plans fell apart.

The door to Celestia’s chambers swung open easier than Blueblood thought they would.

“Auntie!” he called, his voice ringing like a bell. If Fancypants could suddenly bend the rules and treat royalty like any other pony, why couldn’t he do it too?

Celestia, lounging on a pile of floor pillows, didn’t even look up from her paperwork. “Yes, Blueblood, dear?”

“I have decided something!” Blueblood declared, striding grandly into the room.

“Oh my,” she replied in her ethereally calm voice that he knew she only used just for him, “sounds serious.”

Blueblood went to her window and looked down on Canterlot’s skyline. He used to enjoy imagining that everything really did look as small as it did from here, whenever the Princesses chased him off or the castle staff wouldn’t obey his every command. Nopony would have an excuse to ignore him if he was really that huge. “It is, auntie! I’ve come to the conclusion that nopony is prepared to give me the royal accolades that I deserve anymore!”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Blueblood. You’re a Prince, and everypony knows it. You hardly let them forget it,” she said with a laugh in her voice.

“This is no joke!” Blueblood snapped, stamping his hoof. “I need to do something! I must become as the Elements of Harmony are! I must do something that will put me back in Equestria’s good graces and be the prince that those...” He stuck his tongue out. “That those commoners seem to demand.”

“My my,” said Celestia as she scribbled down something that looked like a royal decree, “I’ve rarely seen you this passionate, Blueblood.”

“You’re not even looking at me!” he whined.

Celestia sighed, placing her quill in its inkwell. “Blueblood, do you even have an idea of what kind of things you’re going to do to perform the feat you’ve just described?”

Blueblood sniffed. She didn’t have to make it sound impossible. After all, what was for a prince of his stature? He jutted out his chest and raised his chin. “I’m going to have an adventure and become a hero!”

There was a long moment of painfully awkward silence. Blueblood looked at Celestia, who looked at him.

She blinked, somehow making the gesture look elegant and royal.

“... Just like that?”

“Yes like that!” Blueblood huffed. “Now then. I need you to tell me about any and all ongoing international disputes between us and our barbaric neighbors! Then, I should like you to send me off to resolve them instead of those brutish country ponies you keep dragging out. With luck, I’ll be back in a week or two and my latest shipment of fine wines will have aged perfectly so we can celebrate. So, quickly now! Are the griffons preparing for war? Changelings inserting themselves into our government? Evil beings that need dispelling?”

He waited. The silence dragged on. His eyes were closed to complete the image of a proud, capable prince, but eventually he had to slide one lid open and peek at Celestia.

The Princess of the Sun was giggling behind her hoof.

“Auntie!” he gasped. “How could you? I’m being serious!”

“No, no, my dear Blueblood! Please understand. It’s just that there aren’t any disputes at all!”

Blueblood almost fell over his own hooves. His carefully laid plans were unraveling right in front of his face and he hadn’t even gotten started. His ears went down to half-mast.

“Wh... what? That’s impossible! What about the griffons?”

Celestia smiled lazily, looking out the same window Blueblood had peered from with that maddeningly patient and loving gaze of hers. “They’ve been our friends for ages. The last thing they’d do is go on some meat-eating, warlike rampage. They’re really quite friendly once you get to know them.”

Blueblood’s ears went all the way down. “Changelings?”

“Resolved entirely and in perpetuity when Chrysalis was ejected from Canterlot. My sister and I took measures to ensure they never plague us again.”

Blueblood groveled on the floor. “Ancient evil spirits?” he squeaked out.

“Absolutely none that I am aware of. And pardon me, Blueblood, but you wouldn’t last a moment against any of the ones that I do know of. Pray you never meet the ones that I don’t.”

Blueblood raised his hoof meekly, like a schoolcolt answering a question nopony else wanted to field. “But... but I heard Discord was back! Maybe if I could just—”

“Oh, the last time he caused trouble was months ago. I believe you were getting a pony-pedi that day, my dear. He was returned to stone and then I decided to give him a rehabilitation.”

“... Oh. Perhaps you could allow me to—”

“I let Fluttershy handle the rest.”

He slammed the door on the way out, making a beeline for the guard quarters.

“So let me get this straight,” said Shining Armor, “you need me to lend you an entire battalion of guardponies so you can ride off into the sunset, correct all the wrongs you find within Equestria’s borders, and become a hero?”

Blueblood slammed his hooves down on the Guard Captain’s desk.

“Yes! I don’t see why that’s so hard to grasp for anypony around here!”

Shining Armor rubbed his chin. “Well... you see, the thing is, generally you aren’t supposed to bring an army of well armed, well trained guards along with you when you go on an adventure. It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“Oh, what do you know!” Blueblood hissed. “I’m Prince Blueblood and I demand that you give me proper protection whilst I patrol Equestria’s core regions and seek out injustice and maleficence wherever it may hide.”

Shining Armor rubbed his temples and let out a groan that Blueblood could only believe was his inability to comprehend that such a stunningly amazing and handsome pony like himself was in his office. Just because Shining Armor was a prince in name didn’t make him an equal by any means, and his original job title still held true.

“Do you even know how many ponies are in a battalion, Blueblood?”

“That’s Prince Blueblood, and I don’t even care! Give me a battalion of ponies so that I may not suffer some untimely end whilst I am on my glorious pilgrimage of triumph!”

“You can have two.”

Blueblood’s eyes widened; was the lowborn Guard Captain finally seeing reason?

“Two whole battalions?”

“Two ponies.”

Blueblood let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“They’re off duty right now. I’ll need them back by tonight for the Night Guard.”

Blueblood’s jaw dropped. It was amazing how often it did that in the presence of these silly peasants. Perhaps their slack-jawed idiocy was catching. “Off duty?! Back by tonight?! Do you want me to get killed out there?”

Shining Armor opened his mouth. His eyes rolled to the side as he seemed to mull something over. He shut his mouth again.

“Just take them. With my blessing.”

Blueblood got the distinct feeling he was being made fun of, but he couldn’t put his hoof on it, so he decided to change the subject.

“Look, if you’re going to be so monumentally unhelpful when it comes to defending your liege, then at least tell me where there are problems that need a prince’s touch to resolve! If there are no disputes across the seas, then I will simply have to find some here.”

“There are none. None that a prince of your stature should be involved in, anyway.”

There was that feeling again. Blueblood waggled his hoof. “Well, that’s what your little sister did, isn’t it? Do those silly little everyday things that bring about true harmony or whatever it is she does?”

The Guard Captain narrowed his eyes. Blueblood took a step back. “Her name is Twilight Sparkle, and she’s twice the stallion you’ll ever be.”

“But she’s a mare!”

“Exactly.”

Blueblood slammed the door on the way out, making a beeline for the royal archives.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but there simply aren’t any entries that match the description you gave me.”

Blueblood’s cheeks puffed out as he struggled to hold back words that were unseemly for a pony of his position. The royal archivist in front of him was nonplussed.

“But there has to be at least one!” Blueblood exploded. “Where else would a pony get their inspiration for grand adventure but where all the greatest secrets in Canterlot are kept? Even Twilight Sparkle broke in here once!”

“My lord, I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

Blueblood waved his hooves in the air. “How can I get more specific than ‘secrets of the ancients?’ What else do you ponies keep in here?!”

“Just about everything, my lord. But our shelves are full of wisdom passed down from the Princesses and beyond, not stuffed with random arcane knowledge.”

Blueblood was about to tell the snooty, snot-nosed little cretin where he could stuff some arcane knowledge when he heard the sound of clopping hooves behind him. He turned to see two guardponies trotting towards him. They looked extraordinarily unhappy, but Blueblood knew that was only because they shared his misery that they weren’t going to join their fellows in a grand, adventurous journey with a prince.

“Your lordship, you requested that we meet you here?” said the one on the right. “My name is Wind Shear, and this is Thunder—”

“Yes, yes,” said Blueblood, “all very well and good. Now listen, my first task for you both is to search these archives up and down for any hint of troubles that might be returning from ancient times to plague Equestria!”

The guards looked at each other. They looked up at the imposingly gigantic hallways of shelves full of books that loomed over them. They looked at Blueblood.

“Now?” asked Thunder Something.

“Yes, now!” squealed Blueblood, who took a moment to straighten out his mane and regain control of his voice. He hadn’t had time to go through his morning routine ever since he got up from bed, he was in such a tizzy! “I want every inch of this room searched. Every single time I’ve heard about this kind of thing, it’s always been some random book in the middle of a library that starts it. This little pissant,” he said with a toss of his glorious mane in the archivist’s direction, “is obviously hiding something to protect my innocent royal mind from the secrets of my ancestors. So you two are going to find it for me, and when we discover the undoubtedly jaw-dropping and terrifying nature of this dilemma, you’re going to help me solve it!”

Both guards kept their expressions impassive. The archivist stood around like the idiot he was. Blueblood felt his patience fray to the breaking point.

“Well don’t just stand there! Get to work! Your prince commands it!”

He stormed out and slammed the door without waiting for them to obey.

Once he got out of that infernally dusty place, he took a moment to calm himself down. So far nothing was going to plan. Nothing was even going at all. He had to adjust to every single impediment on the fly, and he hadn’t even made it outside of Canterlot. If those silly guards he’d been assigned couldn’t help, then he’d just have to do some of this detective work himself!

Blueblood left the archivist and his guardponies behind, heading into another section of the royal library. Books upon books glared down at him. He barely even knew where to begin.

“Your highness?” a perky, cheerful voice next to him said.

“Not now, I’m busy!” he snapped, and then realized that just because he was in a bad mood didn’t mean he should chase off ponies willing to throw themselves at his hooves like proper subjects. He dragged a hoof over his face and turned around.

“Ah, my royal apologies,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

Twilight Sparkle stood there, eyes wide with concern.

They both stuttered over each other.

“I was just—”

“I’m so sorry, I—”

They went quiet again. Twilight found her words first, which he found mildly irksome. Was he really that upset over all these roadblocks in his way?

“My friends and I are staying at Canterlot for the week! I... I came here for some peace and quiet after all the excitement in the party.”

Blueblood blinked. “... Oh.”

Twilight seemed bothered by something, rubbing one leg over the other and biting her lip, her eyes searching the shelves anxiously. Perhaps that purple-maned fiend she called a friend had slandered him to Twilight’s face. It wouldn’t surprise him.

“I didn’t expect to find you here!” she blurted out without warning, and then clapped her hoof to her lips. “I’m so sorry, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean to imply you don’t like libraries. I’m sure you’re very literate! I mean... oh!” The flustered unicorn buried her face in her hooves, mumbling to herself about how she must be under the influence of all the cider she drank last night, making her trip over her words.

Blueblood was flabbergasted, leaning back and raising a hoof in preparation to flee. This was Celestia’s pupil, the most powerful unicorn in the land? The one who brought back Princess Luna and defeated Discord, god of chaos, who foiled the plans of changelings and commanded the greatest artifact known to ponydom? He wasn’t sure what to think. She looked lost, vulnerable even, sitting there with her cheeks red and her violet eyes twitching back and forth to find an excuse for herself, her slim shoulders hunched down humbly.

It was almost cute. Perhaps she wasn’t the stuck-up, jumped-up girl he’d thought she was. Perhaps, just perhaps, a little conversation with her wouldn’t hurt at all. It’d certainly make up for his abominable day so far.

“It’s just, Rarity’s said a lot about you...”

Or maybe it would be akin to shoving a hoofful of razor blades down his throat.

"I just wasn’t really sure what to expect—no, that came out wrong too!”

“Miss Sparkle,” he said in his best ‘I’m tired and humoring you’ voice, “really, I’m here to find some books. That’s all. I wasn’t here to terrorize you.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, along with a smile that spread with alarming quickness over her face. Blueblood’s eye twitched as the corners of her lips seemed to actually touch her ears.

“Oh, books? I know all about books, your highness! Just tell me what you’re looking for; I know this place like the back of my hoof!”

Well, then... maybe she had her uses after all. And the way she jumped up at the first opportunity to assist him was quite fetching.

“Well,” he said with a laugh and an easy smile, “I happen to be looking for adventure.”

Two hours later, Blueblood stood at the gates of Canterlot Castle, tapping his hoof impatiently. His loyal guardponies were late! Late! As if they had anything better to do. Shining Armor had even said they were off duty, and they actually found time to be lazy though they were being commanded by a prince. Perhaps he should have them both discharged. That would show them.

He didn’t like the looks other ponies were throwing him either. Instead of shooing them away like the cads they were, though, he let them have their gawking time at his wonderfully rugged attire and handsomely mussed mane. He wondered if it was part of the effect that those silly old books described. He took out the one Twilight had recommended to him—such a helpful filly, if rather chatty—a strange old novel titled The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Dole. He’d barely read more than a paragraph before he’d excused himself from Twilight’s incessant talking about this, that, and some other book. Still, it turned out to be a helpful, if unexpected guide. He had to thank her later.

The ponies therein were, dare he say it, very common. Only one or two had titles to their names and they didn’t seem to do anything of particular importance besides, well, go on an adventure! It seemed royalty didn’t really get to have adventures unless they became common first or disguised themselves as such, which didn’t strike him as making a bit of sense. But most importantly, they all had a common theme: none of them were afraid of getting dirty, and all of their equipment was described to a tee as rough and travel ready. Rolling around in the training circles of the guard barracks had been disgusting, but it was worth it to complete the look of a weathered traveler. He was brown with dirt and smelled a little bit of sweat—even if it wasn’t his own—and the earth, and had even managed to swipe a second-hoof set of guard armor from the quartermaster, along with an entire cart full of provisions, weaponry, and maps of Equestria and beyond. Strangely enough the quartermaster was—apart from Twilight—the most helpful pony today! Why, the way he practically shoved everything into Blueblood’s hooves and told him to leave as soon as possible was almost flattering.

So here he was, finally ready to go out and find some trouble as the lower born heroes did it in those silly foal’s books. It was astonishing, really, how the others in the castle had refused to tell him how great and amazing he was for even deigning to step from his throne and improve the lives of everypony beneath him.

Celestia’s sun shone through a patchwork of bulging grey shapes, cracking apart the white blanket that once covered the sky, peering curiously at him and bathing him in gentle, searching rays of light that played over the polished breastplate of his armor. Who are you? it seemed to ask. Where are you going?

He was Prince Blueblood, and whatever anypony else said, he was ready to make his mark on the world.

He scratched at his flank. This armor was amazingly itchy.

“We’re here, your lordship.”

Blueblood turned to see Wind Shear and Thunder Whatever coming towards him with their requisite blank expressions. “Splendid, splendid! My boys, this is going to be an adventure the likes of which you have never seen before. We’re going to head down...”

Pause for effect.

“Beyond the gates of the castle!”

The guards stared. Blueblood waved his hoof. “Into the city! Beyond our cloistered existence and into the rough and tumble, don’t you get it?!”

“Sir,” said Wind Shear, “I go outside the castle on a weekly basis. I live in the city. Not much goes on there.”

Blueblood blew a mighty raspberry. “Don’t be such a coward, Wind Shear! I’m sure you never found excitement because you never bothered to go looking for it. ”

“I don’t, your lordship. I report for duty every day at five AM sharp and do not move for the next seven hours.”

Blueblood blinked at him. “Well, then! Today is your lucky day, my fine fellows! We’re off to see if Canterlot is in need of good ponies like us. Perhaps we shall rescue a damsel from a mugging. Perhaps we shall meet a rich pony who would like us to find his long-lost scion. Or perhaps!”

He held The Lost World aloft.

“We shall find an eccentric pony who just needs one or two strong young lads like ourselves to help them on their daring mission into the unknown!”

The guards blinked up at the book. Thunder Thing looked back at Blueblood.

“We’re going to follow the advice of a novel?” he wondered.

Blueblood rolled his eyes and took the book in both hooves, tapping the cover. “A novel recommended to me by the one and only Twilight Sparkle, pupil of Celestia! This is what ponies do, Thunder Whatsit! If I’m going to have an adventure and be a hero, I must do exactly as the books say. If that includes going down into Canterlot to find all the crazy ponies I can, then so be it!”

The guards rolled their eyes. Wind Shear looked up at the precariously teetering pile of essential travel equipment Blueblood had flung together.

“So who’s going to cart all of that?”

Blueblood scoffed. As if the question was ever in doubt! “You are, my loyal subjects! You will be my assistants on this journey and as such you will act as porters whilst I keep my weather eyes out for any damsels in distress or demons or whatever else we encounter out there. After all, I’m the one who’s supposed to get the lovely battle scars. Er, not too many of course. Or too deep. In fact, it might be better if I walk behind you two, seeing as the rear is a vulnerable place but seemingly less prone to scarring.”

The guards sighed in unison. Blueblood trotted out of the gate.

Canterlot was fairly buzzing with activity. Blueblood hurried along, snooping and sniffing every dark corner and random alleyway he could. According to the book, surprises came from around every corner, and adventure was found in unlikely places. After all, if a silly little news reporter could run into utterly random rich ponies who needed adventurous help, a prince should have absolutely no trouble!

“You there! I say, you there!” he called out to a nearby stallion. “Do you know where I can find some adventure?”

The pony gave him a strange look and walked on. Blueblood sputtered and pointed him out to his guards.

“Did you see that? That pony just ignored me! He ignored Prince Blueblood! I was right! Fancypants was right! I really am sliding into obscurity!”

“Maybe it’s because you look nothing like a prince?” Wind Shear suggested. “I mean, no offense your highness, but you’re covered in dirt and you smell kind of funky. Also, I didn’t know if you noticed before, but you’re wearing rusty armor.”

“I just assumed it was bronze,” Blueblood muttered, poking at the rusty bits. Which were everywhere, now that he really looked at them. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t look very princely at all. But that was the idea, wasn’t it? He had to look the part, and apparently adventurers got very dirty, at least according to the description of the characters on page twenty-three.

And so, ignoring the looks of ignorant ponies who had no idea what kind of great future they were looking at, he wandered on, leading the two guards through streets of ponies who sent him dirty looks and did their best not to bump into his cart, which Blueblood was thankful for. They might knock loose his precious stockpile of mane shampoo.

It wasn’t long before he found himself in one of the seedier areas of the city, and though rather perturbed by the lack of rich clothes on the populace—some of them were even going naked! How unfashionable!—and their yokel accents that completely lacked the sophistication of a pony in the jet set, he had meant to come here.

“Ah, this is where the lowlifes thrive, is it?” he wondered to nopony in particular, taking a breath of the noxious fumes that permeated this part of the city and clung to the bodies of the poor-folk. Had none of these ponies even heard of the word ‘perfume?’

Thunder What’s-His-Name grunted. “Your highness, we’re one level away from Canterlot Castle. We’re not exactly in a den of thieves, here.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Blueblood. “You boys doubtlessly haven’t lived it rough enough to know a wretched hive of scum and villainy when you see it!”

He turned a corner and found a pub. It was low-brow, large, and bourgeois: a real working-class establishment away from the prying eyes of their betters. The sign outside read “The Galloping Gulper.” Blueblood smiled, enjoying the visceral gut reaction his high-born instincts had at the idea of going inside that putrid den of cheap alcohol and cheaper jokes.

“It’s perfect!” he crowed, throwing his hooves up in front of the door.

“Dude, it’s not even happy hour, get a grip,” said a passing pony as he went inside. Blueblood ignored him and turned back to his guards.

“It looks like this is the place, my friends. Here we shall take our first steps toward destiny.”

“If our destiny was a hangover,” muttered Wind Shear, to which Thunder Thingy snickered.

Blueblood wasn’t going to be deterred by their lack of faith, though, and told them to leave the cart as he turned back to the door. Against the wishes of his loyal yet fearful guards who obviously weren’t as brave as he was, he went inside, shoving the door open and glaring at the other patrons in an appropriately roguish, cloak-and-dagger way. He couldn’t stop his nose from wrinkling at the stench: the building smelled of vomit inside and out. But this was a place to find some mysterious benefactor, wasn’t it? At least, the ponies in the book frequented a few pubs to gather more hooves for their journey. Shivering with anticipation, he went inside. As expected, it was full of rowdy louts who were relaxing after a long day’s work. They crowded every dark corner and lined the bar, tossing insults and noisy cheers.

Blueblood felt giddy that he was even stepping hoof in a place like this. Imagine if he got some of that gunk on the floor on his hoof! It would be the next best thing to a valiant battle scar.

“Smell that?” Blueblood said, taking a deep whiff of the sickly sweet air. “That is the smell of criminality.”

“Smells kinda like punch to me,” Wind Shear mumbled.

A particularly loud crowd of ponies caught Blueblood’s attention. They were crude and low-class, leering at a demure little mare with a peach mane and pink coat, standing out like a sore hoof in her clean-cut business suit amidst the boisterous cads.

“Halt!” he called out to his loyal guards, and ducked behind a nearby drunkard. The guards followed with less enthusiasm than he’d hoped for; what if those nasty ponies saw them first? One of them even spat on the ground. Blueblood shivered in repulsion. Were these really the kinds of ponies he was expected to tangle with? The mare in their midst—for even the other mares here weren’t very ladylike at all—was a far cry from them all, a thoroughly put out and pouty expression on her delicate features. The other ponies were laughing at her, laughing like they hadn’t care in the world and she was nothing to them.

“They must be robbers!” Blueblood gasped.

“In broad daylight in a crowded pub?” Wind Shear asked. Blueblood growled.

“Or perhaps ponies come to collect the dues on a poor young thing like her. Why didn’t Shining Armor tell me we have ponies like this right here in Canterlot?”

“Maybe because—”

Thunder Thing was interrupted by another peal of laughter. The blushing mare hid her face in her hooves as her captors poked and prodded aggressively at her.

“Enough! I’ve seen enough!” Blueblood thundered, jumping to his hooves. “We have to stop this travesty! Obviously these cads are trying to bully that poor mare into revealing some kind of awful secret! We have to stop them and secure her financial aid for our journey!”

He saw Wind Shear’s eyes widen with the anxiety of a coming fight.

“Uh, wait, your highness, you don’t understand!”

“I understand plenty! Onward, loyal subjects!” Blueblood said, rearing up and charging into the fray. His heart pounded. His blood raced in his veins. The excitement could be held back no longer! These blackguards thought they could desecrate good ponies, who while totally beneath him in every way did not need cruel hooves trampling on their meager livelihoods? Not in the Canterlot that Blueblood was going to create! Adrenaline coursed through him, making him blind to everything else except his one, golden ideal. He’d be getting awards and parades and respect, now! Nopony was going to say he was a coward or a fool or obscure any longer!

He grinned as he saw nopony heard him coming over the drunken laughter. One of the ponies turned and saw him at the last moment.

Blueblood froze, a rictus grin on his face and a huge blank spot in his mind. He hadn’t quite covered what he was actually going to do to those blackguards when he got to them. His blood went cold as the other ponies noticed his staring and seven pairs of eyes locked on to him. Even the mare he’d wanted to rescue looked confused.

An uncomfortable silence descended.

Okay Blueblood, think fast! They’re about to descend on you like a hurricane of bad breath and worse manners. You’ve got to teach them how the high-born ponies fight! Hold on, what did the book say about tavern brawls? Am I supposed to have those so early on? What if they gang up on me? What would my face look like tomorrow? What if punching them chips my hoof?!

One of the staring ponies, a very burly stallion, stood up. He was colored green all over, with his mane a darker tone than his fur. A vomit-kind of green in Blueblood’s opinion. He was offensively green.

“Can we help you?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Is he a guard or something? Why’s his armor look like junk?” whispered another.

Do something! Blueblood screamed at himself. His lip twitched.

“You... are an extremely uncouth pony!” he said, forcing his expression into a ferocious sneer and pointing straight at the stallion. “And you don’t even deserve to make minimum wage!”

Everypony’s eyes boggled, which made Blueblood feel quite smug. Clearly, these rogues had never met a pony who could bite back!

“Excuse me?!” the stallion roared over the tavern’s noisy atmosphere. Blueblood cleared his throat; he was on a roll now.

“You heard me, you gutless simpleton. I have half a mind to shut down this entire establishment! Look at you, you slimy, unwashed twit, you and all your hygiene-challenged friends! Hoping that your collective odor will drown out the stench of your own failures in life? I suppose if you chose a path like yours there wouldn’t be much to work with, but let’s be honest, all you really are is a bunch of thugs who can’t understand opportunity when it bites you in the face.”

They continued staring, which Blueblood only took as encouragement until Thunder Doohickey came up and put a hoof on his shoulder.

“Ah, your highness, you really should—”

He didn’t get to finish as Blueblood’s magic surrounded him and pushed him in the way of the first stallion’s hoof, which was about to connect with Blueblood’s face. And what a travesty that would have been! He winced at the uncomfortable smack of hoof meeting cheek.

“Sorry What’s-Your-Name!” Blueblood squeaked out as Thunder flopped to the floor in a daze, horrified that the situation had actually escalated to violence. Normally, his dulcet voice was enough to calm or coerce even the most savage of ponies, but apparently these cretins had imbibed too much alcohol to listen to reason.

“Meadows! You just punched a royal guard!” one of the stallion’s friends balked. Meadows looked at his hoof and then glared at Blueblood.

“Well this idiot made me do it! If I’m goin’ to jail I’m puttin’ a shiner on this nutjob first!”

He lunged, and Blueblood let out a squeal of terror right before Wind Shear tackled Meadows and bore him to the ground, where the two wrestled on top of the other guard. A big mare with a jackhammer cutie mark detached from the group and lunged at Wind Shear.

“Get offa him!” she growled, then sputtered as a cupcake smacked into her face and smeared into her mane. Blueblood levitated a tray of pastries he’d picked up from a nearby table, shaking with adrenaline as the mare glared daggers at him through the vanilla frosting.

“I bet you don’t know the melting point of sapphire!” Blueblood yelped, rather proud he could think of anything to say given how terrified he was. The mare let out an angry shriek and threw herself at Blueblood, who fell back on his flanks in his haste to get away. The mare’s snarling visage was all he could see as she came at him, seemingly in slow-motion as he froze from the utter confusion of the situation. Every crumb of cupcake was clearly visible up close—she was almost as ugly as that mare after the cake incident during the Gala. Blind panic took over and forced him to action. For the life of him he’d never know how he reacted fast enough, but he somehow managed to swing the pastry tray into her head with a resounding clang just as she was about to start biting his head off, sending cupcakes and danishes all over the floor.

She collapsed in a dizzy heap. Blueblood stood up and flashed the most roguish grin he could conjure.

“It’s two thousand and thirty degrees celsius—AHHHH!”

Right on the mare’s heels came her friends. Three of them, in fact, leaping on him with hooves flying. Everything became a blur of angry ponies and flailing limbs. Blueblood’s magic went shooting all over the place as he felt solid blows connecting with his armor, ripping off his helmet.

“Not the face, not the face!” he squealed, because the face was just about the worst place anypony could hit him. How could he smile handsomely for the mare he was rescuing?

As he flopped and struggled and threw ponies left and right with his magic, he was vaguely aware of his two guards shouting—Thunder Something-Else must have recovered from his earlier hit—and trying to restore order as other ponies, fired up by cider and spiked punch and following that disgusting ‘herd instinct’ that common ponies were so well known for, joined the brawl or scrambled for the door. Either way, things quickly devolved into chaos.

One heartbeat later he felt himself break free of the tangle developing on top of him and struggled to his hooves. He tasted something warm and coppery in his mouth, something sickening and out of place. He spat out a glob of reddish-brown spit, and realized his nose was bleeding and getting all over his royal mouth. They had spilled his royal blood.

Common ponies had made him bleed.

He turned around and saw that Meadows character advancing on him through the crowd. Meadows ran straight for Blueblood, spitting curses. And then he went down as Blueblood’s hoof connected with his broad square chin. The well-dressed mare screamed, doubtlessly terrified and struck by admiration for her rescuer.

“Hey!” shouted a formidable looking stallion who grabbed his shoulder from behind. “Hey, nutjob! This is all your fault! Look at me when I’m talking to you!

He went down in a blaze of glory as Blueblood’s rear hooves connected with his nose. Blueblood laughed and went on to the next shocked pony, throwing him over a table with ease. He laughed. was invincible! He was unstoppable! He was—

Being dragged across the floor, under a table which upended its punch bowl all over his precious, precious mane, and out the door. He came to a dead stop in the street amid a small crowd of ponies who watched the ongoing conflict, shuffling their hooves. Why weren’t any of them calling the guard? Blueblood staggered to his hooves, admittedly a bit less commanding now that he was stained pink from the punch, but he was still committed to his civic duty.

“No fear, citizens! I will have the situation under control shortly, and—”

“PRINCE BLUEBLOOD!”

His heart stopped as the Royal Canterlot Voice washed over him. He turned a bit more to the left and saw Princess Celestia herself standing in all her glory, her horn still glowing from when she had dragged him outside.

Ah. That was why nopony called the guard.

“Auntie!” he blurted out. “I can explain. There were these ne’er-do-wells in there and—”

“BE STILL!”

Celestia’s voice nearly shattered every window on the street. The shout was mostly directed at the tavern, however, which went ominously quiet as the voice of the Princess crashed through the front door.

Blueblood felt a vicious yank on his ear as Celestia dragged him back inside. Blueblood felt his heart hammer in his chest as he tried to explain to her exactly why everything that happened was supposed to happen that way.

“Auntie, you don’t understand! There were these nasty, nasty ponies who were all harrassing this one mare here and I thought if I could just get the appreciation of another rich pony I could get some bits and—”

“They’re my friends, you idiot!” the mare in the business suit yelled at the top of her lungs once she broke through the crowd.

Blueblood’s eyelid twitched. The realization of a horrible, horrible mistake cracked him right in the jaw like the punches he’d just been throwing. “Er, what?”

“My friends! My drinking buddies! They were just teasing me over a promotion I got earlier today! What is the matter with you?!”

Blueblood went cold as he looked up at Celestia’s glowering face. She looked at him like nopony had ever looked at him before. He turned around and saw everypony else staring at him in varying degrees of shock and terror as Celestia started to dress him down in front of the whole tavern.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! When I heard that you had abandoned Twilight in the library and ran off with a cartful of weapons and antique armor, I didn’t expect to see this,” she snapped at him. “My own royal nephew here in a bar, picking fights for absolutely no reason!”

Blueblood’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“I was... I thought I was... It was just... I wanted to do some good...”

Celestia shook her head, looking around with a sigh at the mess he’d made. She bent her head down and her horn glowed. Everypony Blueblood had decked was brought back to their hooves, dazed and confused.

Celestia turned back to Blueblood and stared at him with an emotion he’d never really seen before.

Pity.

“I didn’t think you were serious, Blueblood,” she whispered, seeming apologetic, but not enough. Something cracked in Blueblood’s chest.

“But I thought I was—”

“Go home, Blueblood.”

Blueblood trudged out of the building, looking up at the sky. The sun had already dropped below the top of the wall, hiding its face from him. It no longer searched for him with gentle golden rays.

He looked down the street, to the main gate of Canterlot that hung open. The world was out there, big and unusual and full of important things that went on with or without Blueblood’s permission or desire. Nopony was watching him anymore, instead listening to Celestia trying to explain his actions to them and reprimand them for being so easily drawn into a fight. Ever the maternal figure, she was using her ‘I’m really too tired to deal with this so you better understand me the first time’ voice. It was something she used when she had somewhere more important to be—most likely that was scolding him something awful. He had a great night to look forward to.

He looked up and noticed he was completely alone. His guards were helping Celestia restore order inside the pub and the street was empty. Blueblood’s breath caught in his throat as he realized that his inadvertent screw-up had given him a golden opportunity. There was no better chance for an adventure free of prying eyes, free of judgment, than right this moment.

The cart was untended. The gate was open. Nopony was watching.

It would be so easy.

Blueblood sighed miserably and hitched himself to the cart, beginning the long walk back to the castle.

He didn’t bother to return his armor and left the cart of provisions sitting in the hall in front of the quartermaster’s office. Then, trailing bits and pieces of rusty guard armor he unfastened all the way back to his room, he flopped onto his bed and curled up under the covers.

I didn’t think you were serious.

Blueblood hadn’t thought he’d hear such a thing from the mouth of his own beloved auntie. As infuriating as her discipline was and however distant they’d grown, he was still a part of the royal family, wasn’t he? And family, he knew, supported each other. He had done plenty to show Celestia he believed in her. Just last week he’d given up second breakfast and tea time to show solidarity with the starving griffons in Aeriea. And he’d even remembered to throw some pocket change into one of her social projects.

And she had the nerve to come right out and say that in front of everypony!

Granted, he’d just beaten up a bunch of common ponies, but they probably had it coming. Most dirty peasants did, in some way or other.

“Who am I kidding?” he huffed, pulling his silken blanket over his head. “I’m a rotten failure. Even when I try to reinvent myself I just sink even further into obscurity! Curse you, Fancypants! Your barbed words ring with truth! I am adrift in a turbulent sea of emotion!”

He buried his face in a nearby pillow and sobbed gracefully into it, cursing his misfortune and his stupid, stupid ideas.

“Oh, why couldn’t I just get it right? How could I have known it was all going to go south so quickly? Blueblood, you silly, stupid foal! I’m going to be the laughingstock of Canterlot!”

He sat up in his bed and stared out the window. “They must all be laughing at me down there right now. ‘Blueblood the idiot!’ ‘Blueblood the numbskull!’ I won’t be forgotten, just remembered as the village idiot! Picking fights with ponies I didn’t even know were criminals. They looked criminal enough—do they even look at their manestyles in the morning?!”

He huffed and fluffed his pillow, resting his chin on it, growling as his punch-soaked mane got in his eyes. “I’ll be lucky if I can show my face outside the castle again... I won’t be invited to anymore parties, that’s for sure. They might think I’ll start a fight or some nonsense. I might have to send myself into exile just to expiate the shame of what I’ve done from my family name! Will Celestia let me take anything into exile? What if she won’t let me raid the quartermaster again?! What if she—”

Blueblood pushed his head into the pillow again. Why would Celestia do anything? She probably didn’t even think he was worth punishing. Her words mocked him, rolling around between his ears and coating every crevice of his handsome royal brain.

I didn’t think you were serious.

He curled up under the sheets, but found no comfort in them. “My own auntie... passing me off. Even she thinks I’m not worth paying attention to. Even she...” As the full implications of his epiphany hit him, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain inside his chest. It wasn’t a graceful, poetic kind of pain either. It didn’t make him feel better than everypony else, and in fact it made him feel lower than he ever had in his entire life. It just hurt.

Blueblood sat up, sending his silken sheets all over.

“Well I’ll show her.”

When Celestia opened the door to his quarters some time later, she found him already standing in the middle of the room, groomed and cleaned from a quick shower, lacking anything save a little pole slung over his shoulder, holding up a bulging polka-dot pouch that just barely held back whatever it was he had stuffed inside.

“Blueblood,” she said in a slow, gentle voice that he knew meant she was impressed by his willingness to take his punishment, “what are you doing?”

“I’m ready for my exile, Auntie,” he said with a longsuffering sigh. “I’ve brought shame upon our family name, I’ve made a mess of the royal city of Canterlot, and I wrongfully accused ponies of wrongdoing. Even though they are commoners and probably have done something wrong at some point several times before now, they were not engaged in criminal activity then and it was unbecoming of me to think they had done such. Now, please, lay the punishment upon me. No tears now, auntie, I know it must be tearing you apart to lay the law down on me like a common convict. If I must be cast off like so much chattel, then so be it. If I must be dropped into the deepest dungeon, well, that will be a slightly less desired punishment, but I will take it too.”

“Blueblood,” Celestia said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“I’m going to prove myself to you, Auntie,” he said firmly. “Whether you believe me or not, I’m going to prove that I can be better than I was tonight. Than I have been before. You may not...” He struggled to keep the lump in his throat down. “You may not have faith in me. You may have decided I’m nothing more than an unimportant little gnat without so much as a fancy manecut to his name. But I am not that, Auntie.”

He shook his head and took some satisfaction from the way she stared at him, uncertain and surprised.

“I’m not,” he said into the silence, and hefted the package slung over his back. “I have here a few essentials I’ll take with me if you decide to toss me into the wild, as I probably deserve but will soon claw my way back from into righteousness and triumph. I beg you to give me this chance, Celestia. I—”

He heard a snap and a crash as the pole cracked in two and sent the package’s contents scattering. Among them were a great deal of mane curlers, dried fruits, a compass, a sextant, a notepad, a giant bag of quills, a picture of himself, and an issue of Playpony he hastily kicked under his bed.

“That was Shining Armor’s,” he muttered quickly, trying to gather his things together again. Celestia continued to watch him.

“You mean it,” she whispered, “you really do, don’t you?”

Blueblood stomped his hoof. “Well of course I do! Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like I have any choice now, having ruined my own reputation. Assuming I even had one to begin with that wasn’t ‘Oh, dear Prince Blueblood, that’s the ridiculous stallion who hasn’t the slightest clue how to be anything more than a dunce!’”

He scowled down at the pile in front of him. A mess, just like everything else.

He felt Celestia’s wing touch him under the chin and raise his head until he was looking into her fathomless eyes.

“You are more than that, Blueblood,” she said earnestly. “Your words and your attitude now prove it. You deserve better than to be thrown into the wilds for something like this. It is not a crime that anypony cannot forgive. I suspect only Luna will use it to tease you later.” She dropped onto her stomach so she could look him in the eye, and in spite of his ire towards her, he couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward to press his face into her neck. He was willing to take any comfort he could get right now.

“I have had a hoof in this,” Celestia’s ethereally calm voice echoed in his ears. “I treated you badly, Blueblood. When you acted the fool I ignored it. I shrugged it away and wondered if the problem would take care of itself. I let myself be distracted from one of my little ponies, a pony whom I called family, and let you drift away. Just like... well. It was a mistake I should not have repeated.”

She wrapped him up in her wings, and he sagged into her embrace.

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “If you are willing, then I will help you do what you must to reinvent yourself.”

Blueblood sniffled and whimpered for a great long while in Celestia’s hooves, but at length he finally collected himself. “But what can I do?” he whined, pulling back and wiping tears from his messy cheeks. It wasn’t prince-like at all, but he wasn’t feeling very prince-like right now. “I haven’t the slightest idea where to start! It’s why I wanted you to exile me! I could go to Aeriea and give them democracy, maybe? Or I could be off to Brayzil and chart the Amarezon River! No, wait! What if I—”

“Let’s start a bit smaller, my dear,” Celestia said, putting a wing over his mouth. “Somewhere closer to home. I think your own position could do with some reinventing, first of all.”

Blueblood tapped his chin and sat down to ponder. “Yes... I’ve ruined the title of ‘Prince.’ I might as well get a new moniker.” And then it hit him. An idea so wonderfully subtle that nopony would even know anything had changed at first! It was the perfect way to start small. It was a good thing Celestia had such an incredibly smart nephew to help her with ideas like this.

“I’ve got it!”

“Hmm?”

“We’ll stop calling me a Prince at all! Instead, I shall take up the title of ‘Executive Prince.’”

Celestia stared at him, probably bewildered by how amazing his suggestion was. "What."

Blueblood smiled. “It’s completely different than the last one.”

Celestia smiled back at him. “I... yes. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea, Executive Prince Blueblood. Some new duties are in order too, I suppose.”

“I propose that—!”

Celestia cut in with a smile that was a bit too wide to be sincere. “That you keep a stricter eye on Shining Armor’s guard. Make sure they are doing their jobs around the castle.”

Blueblood raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

Celestia’s eyes darted around the room. “Oh! Well, ah, the... posture! Yes. Their posture is very important. I’ve noticed it sagging here and there lately. Probably the long hours they put in, the poor dears. They need somepony to keep them in line. It’s... vital!” She nodded firmly, her mind set. “Yes. Absolutely vital to castle security that they keep their backs straight and eyes up. That will be your first new duty as Executive Prince.”

Blueblood frowned. “But what about—”

“Oh! And you must also make sure the castle grounds are safe from intruders at night! You must check on all the castle staff and ask them how they’re doing, and make sure they are all doing their required duties, and help them with anything at all they require, and let them know that as an extension of Our Royal Will, you are at their service. You will make the castle a paragon of politeness!” Celestia announced, spreading her wings grandly.

Blueblood’s heart swelled as every passing second seemed to change the world around him. Celestia’s heart must have been shattered to see him in such a state—it was the only explanation for her throwing these responsibilities at him left and right! Could she have changed her mind about him so quickly? Could she really be trusting him so suddenly? If this was true, who was to say he should stop there? He would become the greatest home-grown Executive Prince Canterlot had ever seen. What a wonderful idea! Build himself from the ground up. And no diligent, well-meaning Prince delayed on good work. And tomorrow, well... tomorrow, he could take all his well-earned lessons and start a brand new adventure. Really get it right this time.

His course set, he trotted around Celestia and headed for the door.

“Blueblood?” Celestia asked him. “Where are you going?”

Blueblood grinned over his shoulder. “Why, to do everything you asked, of course! The castle won't run itself! Perhaps I’ll start with the scullery maids? Oh, or the kitchens! I have so many recipes to suggest! Politely of course. And then I should go see Shining Armor! Perhaps I could join his guards on the beat! And then I’ll head over to the records department; those poor ponies will need all the help and smiles they can get. Oh, just you watch, auntie! I’m going to be the best Executive Prince you’ve ever seen!”

Celestia stood up, seemingly alarmed. Blueblood hadn’t the slightest clue why.

“But I haven’t even—!”

Blueblood shut the door gently and properly on the way out, making a beeline for a brand new day.