(The following is a work of fan fiction based on My Little Pony:Friendship Is Magic. I am not affiliated with Hasbro and company. This work is intended to be a work of parody that complies with fair use guidelines.)
Blueblood's Redemption
By Geldon
Lead Proofreader: Alchemy Gold
The little unicorn colt bound playfully about the grounds, his coat white and as pure as his innocence, a fine tuff of blonde hair emerging from his mane. He was enjoying bouncing a golden ball before him with his telekinesis.
Then, across the bridge, he saw a sight that made him very happy. Several brightly colored colts his age - earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns - playing on the lawn with a ball similar to his, albeit not quite as shiny. He beamed and ran to join them.
The steel metal portcullis dropped so quickly that he was not able to stop himself before he hit the back of it, falling backwards, shaking stars from his eyes. The drawbridge rose before it, blocking his view of the other children. Two royal guard stallions, their fine white coats clashing brilliantly with their golden barding, regarded him sternly from either side of the gate. He scrabbled backwards, intimidated by them.
His ear began to smart immediately as a familiar telekinetic grip grabbed it, dragging him up on his hooves and away from the front gate.
This was the courtyard of Castle Canterlot, and the young Prince Blueblood had momentarily forgotten himself.
"Owowow! Stop it, mother!"
A unicorn mare, with a regal gray coat and styled blonde mane, looked vexed yet demure, her horn aglow.
Her voice was firm, royal, "How many times must I tell you? You are not to mingle with them."
The pain from the little colt's ear was the last he remembered from this experience.
Prince Blueblood winced. He was now a full grown regal stallion, majestically barrel chested, his mane having long since grown into luxurious blonde curls. Not long ago, he was considered the most eligible bachelor in all of Equestria. If there was any flaw in his physique, it was that his ear was still a tad red and swollen from when his aunt had dragged him, on-hoof, cross-country, all the way from Ponyville to Canterlot. That was a week ago.
That pain was probably what woke him from his dream. Awake or not, he kept his eyes tightly closed, and tried to put this new, living nightmare behind him. He mentally groped around for his bearings and remembered he was in the glorious royal banquet hall of Canterlot castle. The surface underneath his chin was the grand main dining table that extended through it. There were, he recalled, three ponies in attendance: himself, his aunt, and his mother. Oh and, of course, the ever-present guards, but he long ago stopped counting them.
He remembered that his mother, who was perhaps significantly wrinklier than his distant memory but otherwise unchanged, had just returned from a vacation in the country this morning. At his aunt's request, she had been summoned to this meeting with the prince, and was droning on and on about the severity of his wrongdoings. That was what had put him to sleep.
He thought back to the event she was referring to. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He had been deeply insulted by a common mare in public at a major public event, tarnishing his good name. So he would go to Ponyville, claim to be repentant and, once taken back, publicly display he was officially courting her. Then, just as publicly, break off the engagement, dumping her, claiming she was the extremely uncouth one. She would be completely discredited, his name would be restored. It seemed foalproof.
Things started to go wrong soon into the plan, he had to get his hooves a little dirty, but it was nothing he could not deal with. The first problem was the counter-proposed "courtship trials" with her friends to make sure his offer was legitimate, but it was easy enough to feign sincerity with them, and the trials themselves would be marvelous for publicity. No, the only hurdle he was not able to jump was a certain persistent baby dragon who kept getting in the way, regardless of how much he brutalized him. Disgraceful little beast.
The injustice of it all stung him. If he had his way, everypony that matters would have been happy, right? It followed that this punishment was completely uncalled for.
Eyes still shut tight, Blueblood closed his mouth then, and realized it was quite certain he had been drooling. He dearly hoped there was no photographers about. After all, photographers had just finished making him a laughingstock of Equestria, having photographed his thoroughly disgraced expression as his aunt dragged him out of Ponyville when his scheme fell through.
All things considered, he was feeling rather miffed at his aunt at the moment.
His aunt, of course, was one of the very few ponies who could outrank him: Princess Celestia, de facto ruler of the realm. "Aunt," was a term of endearment, as she was not really his aunt, she was immortal, and had lived countless lives the length of his. She was a most unusual pony, an alicorn, possessing both horn and wings. Only two of these were known to exist. Physically, she was two to three times the size of any living pony, her coat as white as can be, her mane a brilliant chromatic cloud, ever-moving from unseen cosmic winds. She was also extremely powerful: she literally raised the sun every morning.
She was quite possibly the most intimidating pony in all of Equestria.
She could also afford to be very patient.
As Prince Blueblood at last opened his eyes, her gigantic regal visage was a scant two inches from his face.
"Boo!" it said.
"Aaagh!" cried Prince Blueblood, jumping back from the table and landing, four hooves in the air, square on his back.
The finely mannered unicorn stallion climbed to his hooves as ceremoniously as possible (which, it turns out, was not at all) and sat again at his place at the table, resolving to try to stay awake this time, and glaring at his aunt.
"Why hello, nephew," said Princess Celestia, in her usual lyrical voice, unperturbed. (In fact, usually quite amazingly imperturbable.)
"Aunty," acknowledged Blueblood, extremely caustically.
Princess Celestia smiled at him sweetly in the same way she did right before grabbing his ear a week ago.
Prince Blueblood cringed.
His aunt then turned to his mother, who was waiting patiently in attendance, and said to her, "Please do go on, dear."
As his mother droned on about things the prince had learned to tune out years ago, a few small snippets pierced his hearing. "Blight to the Blueblood name... shaming your ancestors irreparably... needing to learn a lesson... cut off from the family coffers until further notice..."
That last one rather bothered him.
"But mother!" he exclaimed, "how am I supposed to perform my task as an Equestrian diplomat if I do not have access to a ready supply of gold bits?"
His mother and Princess Celestia exchanged a look.
Princess Celestia said gently, "I do not believe you will need to worry about that anymore, nephew dear."
Her horn glowed as she levitated today's newspaper and dropped it neatly in front of Blueblood's place at the table.
Ah, yes, he had almost successfully forgotten. His fall from notoriety was less a fall and more a dramatic nosedive. In fact, he did a little mental count and realized that, if you count the emergency evening post of the day it happened, he had made the front page for the eighth day straight now. He had even heard, from quite a reliable source, that the news had already reached the furthest corners of the planet.
Prince Blueblood's heart sank as he realized his tenure as an Equestrian diplomat had just expired, permanently.
"Insufferable! INSUFFERABLE!" boomed Prince Blueblood as he rapidly paced the halls of Castle Canterlot. He had been storming up and down the castle all through the afternoon and late into the evening, pausing only for meals.
Flanked on either side of him were his personal guard, the same two guards that had accompanied the prince on his ill-fated trip to Ponyville. Out of curiosity, Blueblood had asked their names once, they had told him Hans and Fritz. They were both pure white earth pony stallions, large and of muscular build, but a look underneath their ever-present golden barding revealed a slight difference: Hans had a mane of pure black while Fritz's mane was a slightly lighter brown. The prince usually preferred to call them, "boys," or, "guards" - no sense getting too friendly with the hired help.
Blueblood continued to fume out loud, "Completely and utterly ruined, doomed to live out the rest of my dreadful days as a Castle Canterlot sideshow," he mimed what he believed a carnival crier would sound like and managed to make it sound extremely insulting, "come one, come all, bring your snot-nosed brats and atrociously ugly spouses out from under your squalor-infested dirt-farms to see the once great Prince Blueblood brood gracefully in repose: only 5 bits per head!"
He stopped suddenly and expelled an angry burst of steam from his snout as his eyes bulged in anger, "Never! NEVER! I'd sooner jump from the highest tower in Canterlot than allow myself to be made the foal of Equestria!"
Hans and Fritz watched Blueblood carefully for any sudden moves. They had been given very specific orders by Princess Celestia to keep Blueblood away from the windows of any particularly tall buildings for awhile.
Fortunately, it seemed to be only his usual theatrics, as the prince was now calmly musing aloud, "But then, I suppose if I did that, the photographers would catch several shots of me on the way down and sell them for 15 bits apiece. The mares throughout Equestria would surely deplete all the celluloid of the kingdom in order to swoon over the heroic prince in his dashing final duel with death itself... no, even so, the indignity of it all doesn't make it particularly worth it."
Marching onward, Blueblood passed the door to his room for the sixteenth time that day, and this time decided to go inside of it. The guards entered with him, standing on either side of the door before closing it behind them, watching the prince fume inside of his quarters. The guards were quickly ignored by the prince as so much furniture.
Speaking of which, the room was lavish. The furniture was all marvelously ornate, chests, wardrobes, even a king-sized bed with golden bed posts and bedding of the finest imported silk. However, the pride of his room was the many cabinets containing the rewards and trophies he had won in attending various high social gatherings.
The prince noted grimly to himself that his trophy collection would not be getting bigger any time soon. It was unlikely he would be invited anywhere now. Even if he was, he would likely regard such an invitation with deep suspicion.
Blueblood then realized that all his stomping around the castle that day was actually very good exercise. He was exhausted. He threw himself onto his bed, wrapped a pillow about his head, around his eyes, and tried to get to sleep.
Hans and Fritz had endured a lot of difficult experiences under their duty to the prince. However, they would later agree, hearing a full grown unicorn stallion cry himself to sleep that night was one of the worst.
Blueblood recalled that he had cried himself to sleep a lot during his youth. By the time he was at the cusp of stallion-hood, he simply had no tears left.
His dream self woke from the smaller quarters he had in those days and grimly observed himself in the mirror. Though most ponies his age had received their cutie marks by now, he was still a blank flank, he simply did not have the opportunity to find his special talent. The very second he left his room, the guardsmen would escort him away: it was time for his daily lessons.
He met his speech instructor, a crusty old gray unicorn mare, nearly every day. She was the strictest of his instructors, continually reprimanding him to speak in the royal tongue. When he slipped up, even a little, she would apply a sharp rap of the heavy wicker switch she perpetually kept levitated nearby. If he yelped in pain, he would get another for his breach of protocol. Years later, that terrible instructor glowered at his mode of speaking, and pronounced it, "Perfect."
Royal etiquette was not one instructor but a great procession of them, stretching through his youth. There were a truly staggering number of things to know. Standard table manners would vary heavily depending on where he was eating and who he was eating with. When doing something as simple as walking into a room, there were three to eight things he needed to keep in mind lest he do it incorrectly. If he dared to eat the wrong thing, he was to spit it out immediately - no matter how hungry he was - and declare it unsuited for the royal tongue. He was taught to discipline hired help in such an elaborate display that it was far more taxing on himself. At royal functions, he was never to open a door, always to insist on someone open it for him. Through sheer force of practice, his young mind became quite adept at picking up the subtleties of every exercise, to the point where nearly every new instructor declared they had nothing new to teach him, proclaiming that he was already, "Perfect."
The royal functions were one of the most important things he was taught to do. For example, he had attended rehearsals for the Grand Galloping Gala every year since he was a colt, accompanied by a host of instructors who would tell him how to do every little thing: how to waltz, how to identify the music that was playing, how to drink the beverages, how to engage in polite conversation, and even how to feign romance. Then would come the real thing, the real gala, and he would do his best to imitate what he had been taught while his instructors lurked in the shadows. At the end of the gala, he was sat down and read a list of every little thing he did wrong. That list became shorter and shorter each year. Finally, there came the year that there was only one observation to read from the list, "Perfect."
It had been during a telekinetic fencing lesson that the instructor drew Blueblood's attention to something new. There, in a mirror, was his new cutie mark: an eight-point compass rose of gold on blue. At once, servants were frantically dispatched to fetch his mother and Princess Celestia. When they arrived, they looked elated, but their expression was bittersweet. Perhaps they were thinking that their little boy was growing up? His auntie Celestia told him that his cutie mark represented his special talent as the beacon of Equestria, one that would provide a guiding example for everypony.
Blueblood humored the celebration, projecting an expression carefully picked from one of the hundreds he had been taught for a given occasion. It would be very uncouth for him to say what was on his mind: that he really did not particularly care he had a cutie mark. No, he was far too perfect for it to matter one way or another.
Yet, there was only one thing that bothered him, this perfect stallion. Something that he had been denied all his life and yet had not learned to do without. Amidst the throng of ponies admiring his new cutie mark, he stared with practiced regal detachment out the window of the tower room he was in, past the drawbridge, and on to the lovely green lawn he had been denied as a colt.
Freedom. The thought ignited a fire in his heart. If he dwelled on it too long, that fire would begin to burn painfully. He wanted nothing more in this world than to be free.
Prince Blueblood jumped out of bed abruptly and into a fine sunny morning. He was feeling giddy. "Boys," he boomed, "I just had a marvelous idea! Truly marvelous!"
His sudden outburst roused Hans and Fritz, who had fallen asleep at their posts on either side of his door. They exchanged a look: the prince's sudden elation was a very bad sign. As the prince trotted rapidly about the room opening chests and wardrobes, Hans carefully made his way in front of the window.
The prince was chiding himself gleefully, "Where did I place that infernal... ah!" His telekinesis levitated a small black bottle out of a chest.
Poison? As the cap was quickly twisted off, Fritz braced himself to bolt, considering how he should go about tackling the prince and wresting the bottle from him.
But he was too late.
The prince dumped the contents of the bottle, sticky blank writing ink, directly on his precious golden curls.
Hans gaped wide-eyed at the prince in shock. Fritz lost his balance and fell, his armor clattering against the stone floor.
Sure enough, the prince had lost his mind.
Blueblood giggled to himself like a school colt who had been told a naughty joke, looking at himself in the mirror as he levitated a brush with masterful precision through his mane, spreading the blackened disaster he had introduced into the full length of his curls.
This ink was no hair dye, it dried quickly, permanently, converting the once luxuriously styled blonde mane into a pitch black rat's nest that spiked wild and haphazardly.
Seeing the result, Blueblood laughed even harder, tears coming from his eyes as they bulged from maddened, unbridled levity.
Then, he began to repeat the procedure with his glorious tail.
Fritz picked himself up off the floor where he had been dazed and shook his head, shaking a great deal of collected incredulity loose from his brain. He ventured to inquire, "My prince?"
"Yes, Fritz?" replied the prince brightly, as he busily worked a tail that was sometimes compared to an amber field of wheat into a ragged black morass.
Fritz was not sure what bothered him more, that the prince was willingly making himself look uglier, or that he actually called a guard by his name. "Is everything... alright, milord?"
Prince Blueblood immediately stopped was he was doing, a hairy ink-encrusted brush clattering to the floor, and stared at Fritz with a blank expression. He walked up to Fritz slowly, their gazes locked. Out of view, Hans followed the prince carefully, ready to subdue him if needed.
When they were nearly snout to snout, the prince slowly cracked a smile, not a smile he had been taught, but a normal smile, looking completely out of place on his face.
"Oh, everything is absolutely fabulous," he breathed rapturously, "but first, I need you boys to take off your armor. Then, we're going to give the royal painter something very special to paint."
Hans and Fritz were nervous before. Now, they were terrified.
Hans and Fritz were soldiers. They had been trained to handle panic in one way and one way only: follow orders. Thus, dearly wishing that they had been trained otherwise, a very naked feeling Hans and Fritz trailed the prince at a brisk military pace as he cantered happily through the halls of Castle Canterlot in the direction of the royal painter's studio.
As Hans passed the first guardsman standing at his post in a hall, he leaned over furtively and hissed a quick message to him under his breath, "The prince has gone mad: inform the princess."
The guardsman watched them as they passed and then bolted, a full gallop, in the opposite direction, that of the throne room.
Arriving at last at the studio, Prince Blueblood's horn glowed, almost knocking the door off its hinges as it opened. Despite being in a wing of the castle, it was a fairly humble studio. Paint, brushes, and other supplies were against one wall. Canvases in various states of completion were on the other. An easel stood in the center of it.
In front of the easel was a small unicorn stallion of cyan coat and straight white mane, his cutie mark an artist's palette. The royal painter cowered in fear as Blueblood loomed over him, bearing that same highly normal smile, grotesquely alien on the face of the royal personage.
Noticing the easel was occupied with a half completed work, Blueblood snatched it with his telekinesis and brought it before him.
He admired it briefly. "Oh, lovely, the humble bowl of fruit, the standard artist's exercise, it seems to be forming nicely. However, this canvas is simply atrocious, of terribly insufficient quality to capture this artist's work, don't you think so, guardsmen?"
Hans and Fritz nodded, very carefully.
The prince's smile barely registered them at all, "Then it's decided!"
His telekinesis projected the canvas hard against the back stone wall, shattering the wooden frame. The painter watched his latest work being destroyed with despair.
The prince loomed even closer, catching the poor artistic stallion's gaze. Blueblood's smile was gone, he was being very serious now, "listen to me very carefully. I need you to paint the most important work of your life. Quickly, but of a quality above the reproach of a casual glance. Then, I need you to copy it exactly. Do you think you can do that for me?"
The smaller stallion nodded fearfully, as if he had a choice.
"Good," said the prince brightly, "and, as for your canvas, it will be this."
He turned, knocking the easel over in the process, and levitated a fallen brush, twirling it around the intended target.
His cutie mark.
"I don't care what you paint, but it needs to look like a commoner's mark. It needs to be convincing and as resistant to the weather as possible."
It was then that Hans and Fritz realized exactly what was going on.
The prince once again had that school colt's giggle. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"
It was a simple brown wagon wheel, its spokes perfectly covering the points of the compass on the prince's flank, with a metal circle around it. Given the prince's exacting orders, it was the first and best thing that came to the mind of the artist, as he could use the preexisting cutie mark as a base to draw it and assure he was duplicating it successfully on both sides. The prince thought it was serendipitous, as they would surely be doing a lot of traveling soon.
At the moment, the prince was slinking like a naughty colt through the halls of Canterlot castle, utilizing a servant's route he knew to be considerably less guarded than most. Ignored, Hans and Fritz followed, not bothering to hide themselves, as they knew a thing or two about hiding, and the prince was doing it wrong. Finally, he reached a servant's exit and made his way outside the keep and into the courtyard.
From behind a concealing bush, the prince watched the gatehouse containing the drawbridge and only exit from Castle Canterlot carefully. From time to time, a servant pony would trot by unnoticed by Blueblood, casting him and the embarrassed Hans and Fritz a funny look. After awhile, the posted guards trotted inside a door to the adjacent barracks.
The changing of the guard was underway.
The prince shouted, "Quickly! This is our chance!"
Hans and Fritz complied. Even in their off-duty attire (which, for a pony, was usually nothing) they were still sworn guards of Equestria and, until relieved, they had a duty to fulfill. They inwardly reassured themselves that the magistrate would see things their way if they were dragged into court after this was all over.
Breaking into a gallop, Blueblood thundered towards the drawbridge. He had a brief flashback to the time when, as a colt, he had done the same thing in order to try to play with the commoner colts on the other side. As he crossed the threshold of the gatehouse under the heavy steel portcullis and onto the drawbridge, his heart soared: this time, it was going to be different.
They ran further and further away from Blueblood's prison, away from the sprawling green lawn around Castle Canterlot and deep into the city of Canterlot proper. For the first time in his life, Prince Blueblood was running away from home, and nopony could stop him, not even Princess Celestia herself. He mocked her, laughing into the breeze as he went, "Take that, auntie!"
From the balcony, Princess Celestia and his mother watched them go.
The wrinkled unicorn mare was worried, and asked the tall immortal, "Princess, are you sure it's quite alright to just let him go like that?"
Princess Celestia smiled reassuringly, "Quite sure, dear. After all, one who has nothing left to lose has everything to gain."
Inside an hour of wandering the streets of Canterlot with his guards in tow, the great inner fire that catapult Prince Blueblood into his life of newfound freedom was threatening to go out.
The problem was mostly a lack of fuel.
In hindsight, the prince realized it would have been ideal to take some gold bits for the journey in order to purchase future meals. For that matter, they probably should have eaten something before escaping the castle.
Fortunately, the prince knew that he was incapable of making mistakes, and so his hunger was only the necessary price of freedom.
It was a bit of a rude surprise when he discovered that, by successfully disguising himself as a nameless commoner, his usual tactic of merely asking a pony to give him what he wanted would only result in a threat to call the guards. The threat made his princely blood boil but, as long as he wished to remain incognito, it worked very effectively.
The thought never crossed his mind to simply steal a nosh, not so much because he cared for whoever he would steal from, but because a prince was far above such debased practices! He could, however, order Hans or Fritz to steal for him. He decided against it: the number of hired help he had available to him had dwindled badly enough without any of them being arrested for a botched crime.
So it was that he realized that he was facing a serious logistics problem that, under normal circumstances, would only thwart the escape attempts of the youngest of foals. The gears lurched slowly to a start in a head that, prior to today, had mostly been used for decoration. It was not long until he realized that perhaps he ought to ask someone who never had the benefit of being a royal beneficiary how they survived. Fortunately, it so happened that he had dragged along two such impromptu advisers.
It took awhile for Hans and Fritz to painstakingly explain to Blueblood that, in exchange for their services as a royal guard, they were paid a royal stipend of gold bits for their service. Performing services in exchange for bits was called a "job," and almost everypony had one. This rather surprised Blueblood: up until now, he thought the guards and servants did what they did or else Princess Celestia would have their heads. He laughed at that, mentioning it. The guards laughed along... it sounded very forced.
Thinking that he had found a solution at last, Blueblood asked Hans and Fritz if currently they had any bits with which they could afford a meal. Two guards immediately responded that they did not. The truth of their statements was something that Blueblood could not accuracy verify, as exactly where a pony kept their bits was something that sometimes mystified even themselves. Fortunately, the prince did not need to press the issue, as another one of his undeniable logical premises was that it was impossible for anyone to lie to him.
Now, Prince Blueblood had two excellent theories on how he could survive. The first would be to return to the castle and try to pretend nothing ever happened, but the taste of freedom was still fresh enough that it overpowered his empty stomach. The second would be to figure out exactly where these "jobs" could be found and get one.
As they proceeded down the city streets, Blueblood began to scan Canterlot carefully, trying to imagine what one of these "job" things would look like. Then he turned a corner of a busy street, and did not so much spot the first example so much as have it completely overwhelm his senses.
Fireworks of every color and type burst simultaneously over the central plaza of Canterlot, as noticeable in day as they would be in night due to magical intervention. Below, an amassed throng of colorful ponies was collectively oohing and aahing before a stage. The stage was brightly colored and had magical horns blowing fanfare built into the sides. Back stage, machinery hidden behind violet curtains extended rods containing fireworks, mobiles, and other cheesy but effective stage props.
All eyes were on the stage centerpiece, a blue unicorn mare with a slick silver mane. She was wearing a purple ensemble of stars and planets, a matching wizard hat and cloak affixed with a diamond clasp. On her face, the arrogant expression never left her lips as her bright violet eyes regarded the crowd with contempt, gesturing dramatically as she announced her presence.
"Come one, come all, come and witness the amazing magic of the Great and Powerful Trixie!"
Taking it all in, Blueblood felt an annoying inkling in the back of his skull that subtly told him that he had found someone that held themselves in even higher regard than himself. He grit his teeth to smother that feeling from his mind. He signaled his guards to clear a path to the center of the crowd. They complied, attracting more than a few sour looks from the throng as they were shoved aside, but his guards knew what they were doing. Hans and Fritz now flanked the prince as he sat to observe the act.
"Watch in awe," she was saying, "as the Great and Powerful Trixie performs feats beyond your imagination!"
Blueblood harrumphed. If the plebeian ponies surrounding him were watching her any harder, their eyes were likely to fall out and roll under the stage. Nonetheless, he had to admit, he was able to momentarily forget his hunger as the Great and Powerful Trixie's act continued to play out before him.
The unicorn mare's special talent was clearly stage magic with a hint of the real thing. She conjured forth flowery bouquets with a wave of her arms. She pulled all manner of small animals from her hat. She performed elaborate rope tricks. She created great neon patterns in the sky. Each trick was glitzier than the last. After awhile, Prince Blueblood believed she could do just about anything, and that annoying twinge in the back of his skull flared up again.
As a trained performer himself (albeit his stage was the royal court) the prince recognized an interesting pattern to her performance. She had not come to perform for the crowd at all. No, the crowd had come to perform for her, to marvel at how amazing she was for her personal entertainment. Even the prince felt slightly less like he was the center of the universe in her presence.
This just made the very last trick all the more amazing. It was a trick that interested Blueblood more than all the other tricks put together. Where all of her other tricks were all flash without substance, an illusion wholly focused on self-promotion, this one trick had the most important substance of all.
It was the trick where she had convinced most of the ponies in the crowd to throw gold bits up on the stage.
"Guards, I am assigning you your most important mission yet," said Prince Blueblood.
Hans and Fritz stood at attention, glad the prince was being serious for once.
The prince barked his order, "Stand back and stay out of my way." He then turned away from them, trotting towards the middle of the plaza.
The guards facehoofed: looks like it was business as usual after all.
A half an hour ago, the Great and Powerful Trixie's performance had ended. Without a hint of sincerity, the magician congratulated the audience for coming. Then, the stage retracted all its props and folded up neatly into a simple square wagon painted in bright carnival magician decor. Finally, out of the top of the two vertically mounted doors of the back of the wagon, under the sign of her trade, the Great and Powerful Trixie performed a very special bonus performance.
That is to say, she was signing autographs. It would have been a charitable gesture if she was not charging an outrageous sum for the privilege. Perhaps the only reason she did not simply sign a check mark was because she loved to sign her name in huge elegant letters that immortalized her obvious superiority with aplomb.
The last pony in line, a remarkably typical looking earth pony, trotted away with his autograph book in his mouth and a look of uncertainty on his face. Trixie expressed exaggerated relief that she was done dealing with common ponies for the day and retreated into her wagon. Little did she know that she was about to meet a highly uncommon pony.
Prince Blueblood approached the back of the wagon and cleared his throat in a way that bristled with practiced regal hubris.
In response, a sharp voice came from inside the wagon, "The Great and Powerful Trixie is finished for today. Away with you!"
The prince looked at his guards, who had retreated to a safe distance so as to not botch this apparently vital mission. They shrugged.
The prince cleared his throat again, a little more firmly this time.
Trixie's head shot out of the open top door and looked down to glare at whatever intruder would dare to disobey her direct order.
She took in quite a sight. Prince Blueblood was in full romantic ambush, wearing a rakish expression that he just knew would go perfectly with his blackened wild mane. He fixed her a look that had toppled the hearts of a hundred noblemares. He was going all out, his charm turned up to maximum, fully prepared to dominate his way into the ranks of employment at last.
The Great and Powerful Trixie was unmoved.
"Who is so ignorant as to bother The Great and Powerful Trixie?" she demanded.
"Who, indeed? Perhaps just a humbled stallion looking to marvel at your beauty?" replied Prince Blueblood smoothly with a come-hither flex of an eyebrow.
Beneath that perfect veneer, he was panicking: in all this time, he had forgotten to come up with a fake name.
The bottom half of the double door opened and Trixie stepped down from the wagon. She stood in front of Blueblood, shorter than him, but far more intimidating. Her eyes were slanted with contempt as usual, her voice had the edge of a knife, "Why don't you tell the Great and Powerful Trixie what you really came here for?"
Blueblood was reading from a memorized script he had once been taught and only embellished upon over the years, "Why, I am here for the pleasure of your company, of course."
"You don't say?" Trixie's self-satisfied grin become slightly impish as she started to walk slowly around Blueblood, a sultry swagger that sent her cloak sashaying distractingly behind her. The back of Blueblood's skull was aching stronger than ever - she had a real pizzazz, that Trixie, he had to admit. He exercised every ounce of his princely grace to turn and face her as she walked. Finally, she stopped opposite of her starting position, Blueblood between her and the wagon, and sat.
"I don't believe you," she said simply.
A classic gambit, thought the prince. His response was immediate, "But Trixie, my dear-."
The mare's eyes hardened instantly.
The next thing he knew, Prince Blueblood was once again hooves up and flat on his back, having been hogtied by Trixie's rope trick in a blink of an eye. That's the nice thing about being a unicorn wearing a wizard hat: it completely hides when your telekinesis is in use.
The stallion regained his senses to see Trixie looking down on him wearing an expression that would befit a school yard bully gloating about tripping someone smaller than them into a mud puddle.
She spoke with all the condescending authority she had used on stage, "Just who do you think you are addressing?"
Thinking for only a moment, the prince squeaked, "The Great and Powerful Trixie?"
"Yes, what is it?" she replied harshly but receptively.
"Can I be your apprentice?" he begged.
Laughing to herself, Trixie climbed back up into her wagon and slammed the bottom door.
Hans and Fritz exchanged a glance. They knew the prince had told them to butt out while he worked his charms, but they were quite positive that the operation had ended in a complete failure. They trotted over and started to help the prince loose from his bindings.
As they did this, the prince's look of defeat was utter, and he began to whine, "That's it, boys, it's over. I tried, I really did, you know that, don't you?" Hans pretended to placate the prince reassuringly, as was long his duty. "Lets just go home," the prince cried dejectedly, "for whatever good that will do me, that is. I will subject myself to exile, the family's dirty little secret, cloistered in my room until the end of days." Fritz sighed in relief, glad that this nightmare was nearly over.
"I really don't know how you two do it," sniveled the prince, "I was the greatest of stallions, the most magnificent in Equestria, and look at me now! Bitless, starving, reputation ruined, a shame on my family name-" Hans and Fritz sat back and let the prince go through a long tirade of hysterics. This was not the first time the prince decided to throw a tantrum, and it would not be the last. It rose steadily in volume as Blueblood expressed everything on his mind, until they could tell from past experience that it had reached its climax and was coming to its dramatic conclusion, "-I even ruined my precious mane, and I owe it all to that meddling Twilight Sparkle and her blasted purple wyrm!"
Trixie's head was out the open top door of her wagon so quickly that it rocked on its foundations. She looked shocked, "What did you say?"
The prince blinked tears from his eyes and rummaged through the last few minutes in his mind and offered, "Greatest of stallions?"
"No, after that."
"Shame on the family name?"
"After that! Long, long after that!"
"Ruined my precious mane?"
"After that! The end!"
"I owe it all to that meddling Twilight Sparkle and her blasted purple wyrm?"
Trixie gaped.
A moment later, her eyes narrowed and her mouth shut. She looked down at the prince's cutie mark, the compass rose currently disguised as a wagon wheel, and asked, "Do you know how to move a wagon?"
Thinking only briefly, the prince replied with hope in his eyes, "Why yes, I do believe I do."
Hans and Fritz sweated as they tugged hard on their yokes, pulling the wagon through the gates of Canterlot and slowly down the path through the mountains. It was not exactly the most efficient wagon but, given a bit of extra effort, the accursed thing moved. They could only imagine it would be even worse when they reached level ground.
Thanks to the intervention of the Great and Powerful Trixie, Prince Blueblood and his guards were fed, but that also meant that his selfish scheme to run away from home was actually working.
The interior of Trixie's wagon was cramped, the greater part of it heavily occupied by the elaborate machinery that made her shows work. Fortunately, the last time she had to rebuild it, she had managed to improve the original design and create a little more space. Thus, she was able to sit inside with Blueblood with enough room between them to comfortably converse.
"Let the Great and Powerful Trixie get this straight," she was saying, eyes somewhat cruel even when she did not intend them to be. "You, Prince Blueblood, are running away from home."
The stallion nodded miserably, having just been forced by circumstance (and not a little of Trixie's intimidatory tactics) to reveal his secret. Of course, having just finished pouring his heart out in Canterlot outside of her wagon, the only dots left to connect involved stating his actual name.
"And you want to be my apprentice?"
Another nod.
Trixie looked away from the prince in thought, even more vexed than usual. She really did not need to ask the prince how Twilight Sparkle ruined his reputation, as she did read the occasional newspaper during her travels.
Blueblood's curiosity got the better of him, "I must know, Great and Powerful Trixie" (as proud as he was, he had learned that calling her anything less just brought undue pain) "why ever did the mention of that bothersome protege of my aunt's change your mind?"
Trixie's temperament did not improve upon bringing up the subject, and she looked for a moment like she would not answer, but she found a way to relent, "Let us just say that the Great and Powerful Trixie doesn't like being shown up."
As a stallion who had dedicated a considerable amount of his life towards never being shown up, Blueblood sympathized completely.
Trixie frowned then, and stated haughtily, "The Great and Powerful Trixie does not need an apprentice."
Blueblood looked like he was about to say something, but Trixie waved him away with an idle flick of her hoof and said, "However, the Great and Powerful Trixie may have a vacancy for a beautiful assistant."
"Beautiful assistant?!" Blueblood said incredulously. He knew why she used the word, the "beautiful assistant," was the typical title given to a pony that would accompany the magician on stage and look pretty while they were performing their tricks. However, while he was charming in more ways than he could count, that particular word did a certain injustice to his impeccable masculinity.
"Problem, prince?" asked Trixie primly, mocking him through the corner of her eye with a self-serving, coy smile. That expression made the back of his head hurt again as it informed him that he was trapped and he knew it.
Blueblood snorted contemptuously, "No! No problem at all!"
"Good," said Trixie viciously, "in that case, the Great and Powerful Trixie believes this to be the beginning of a truly terrible relationship."
Blueblood thought that was a tad unnecessary, but he caught what she was suggesting: her wagon, her rules. She was taking a tremendous risk by smuggling the prince out of Canterlot, and she expected him to pay for it every step of the way.
A week later, Prince Blueblood had a surprisingly good rapport with Trixie. That is to say, the scathing way they would address each other when going about their daily tasks had lost an imperceptible amount of bite. True, she still treated him like dirt, but beneath that dirt was a fine trace of mutual respect.
Trixie was pleased to discover that her "beautiful assistant" - or a masculine equivalent thereof - was already an accomplished performer, completely immune to stage-fright and capable of feigning for the audience that he knew exactly what he was doing even when he did not. All she needed to do was explain a few pointers during rehearsal in order to keep his mistakes to a minimum, and her performances went flawlessly.
Better than flawlessly, in fact. They had performed at two little-known towns now, and Trixie was pleased to note that her "beautiful assistant" was actually adding to the quality of her performances, reacting naturally and with surprising grace to her actions on the stage in such a way as to enhance her effect on the audience. It was apparently old hat for Blueblood, and the take of gold bits had been considerably better than she anticipated.
But now, they had reached a complication. The wagon had been following a road that would take them to a great many venues on the side of Equestria farther from Canterlot, but first would have to pass directly through Ponyville. Both Prince Blueblood and the Great and Powerful Trixie had several reasons to avoid the town. To be more precise, they had five smaller reasons, one big reason, and her baby dragon assistant.
So it was that they decided to take a somewhat overgrown detour around the town. Trixie had nervously assured the prince and his guards that it would not be a problem. However, they all knew the truth: traveling through the Everfree Forest was always a problem waiting to happen.
The Everfree Forest was a mysterious place. Though in times of yore the ponies may have lived there, the ponies' magical influence had long since receded from the place, and the result seemed unnatural to them: the plants grew, the animals cared for themselves, and the clouds moved all on their own! Such a thought would cause ponies weak-at-heart to faint right on the spot. At times like that, Princess Celestia wondered if perhaps she had spoiled her little ponies.
Because of its reputation, when even the smallest thing went wrong while traveling the ancient roads through the Everfree Forest, it was a major crisis.
The wagon lurched suddenly and violently to one side, sending Blueblood sprawling on top of Trixie. Acting significantly more annoyed at him than usual (her greatest feat yet) Trixie shoved him to one side and stepped outside to investigate.
Hans and Fritz had unhitched themselves from the wagon and were now looking at the source of the problem. The wagon had fallen into a small depression of the road that had, just for a moment, caused its entire weight to fall on one wheel at a very bad angle. That wheel was now a splintery mess, completely destroyed.
"Blueblood!" barked Trixie in the same tone one would use to condemn a dog that had just soiled the carpet, "bring out a spare wheel!"
Righteous indignation nearly at bursting levels, Prince Blueblood complied, rummaging through the wagon with his telekinesis until he found the wheel and began to levitate it with his horn.
A deafening roar caused him to drop it again. Shaking so hard he could hardly walk, Blueblood managed to topple out of the back of the wagon and see what caused that sound.
A terrifying sight awaited him. Emerging from the overgrowth was a greenish-colored serpentine beast. On two legs, it supported a base that was as large as the wagon by itself, but the truly terrifying thing is what extended out of it. A tremendously long neck, and three more necks just like it, each one topped with a dragon's head. Three of the heads looked smug, one of them was panting excitably.
"A hydra!" shouted Fritz. "Prince, get behind the wagon!"
Fritz need not have bothered. Blueblood, demonstrating his usual level of unquestionable bravery, was already cowering effectively behind the furthest corner of the wagon.
However, the Great and Powerful Trixie, flanked by Hans and Fritz, bravely stood between the wagon and the hydra. Yet, there was a definite note of fear in her voice as she shouted at the beast, "Stay back! You hear me?! You do not want to mess with the Great and Powerful Trixie!"
Three out of four hydra heads regarded Trixie and the two guards hungrily. The other head laughed at her.
The hydra took a step out of the forest and onto the path towards the wagon. Trixie immediately summoned a storm cloud over its head. Blueblood was momentarily awed at her ability. The cloud shot a single bolt of lightning before dissipating, striking the laughing hydra head right in the snout, leaving behind a small singe mark. It sneezed, and the other heads smirked at it. Blueblood had a feeling the three heads did not like that fourth head very much.
The hydra took another step towards the wagon, and Trixie's telekinesis pulled a rope from her wagon and rapidly tied it about all four of the necks and both legs. The rope snapped under the pressure of the beast's incredible musculature almost instantly.
On its next step, Trixie summoned a great magical firework display, dazzling all the ponies in attendance. The hydra was not impressed.
Trixie quailed slightly backwards as the hydra was now in striking range of her. Her magic may have been able to make her look like she could do anything while she was on stage, but they were of unfortunately no use in the face of a real crisis.
The other heads counterbalancing it, one of the hydra's heads dove directly for the failed magician, ready to gobble her up whole.
Hans tackled her out of the way at the last moment.
The head's momentum passed them and struck the wagon square in the middle, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. "No!" cried Trixie. Tiny splinters fell on Blueblood, who had narrowly avoided being flattened by virtue of having cowered behind a corner instead of a wall.
The hydra head retracted, shaking ruined stage props and personal effects from its eyes.
Hans stood up and exchanged a bitter grin with Franz. It was a soldier's grin, an ironic joke shared between a band of brothers when all seemed lost. Franz returned that grin, and nodded.
Hans shouted directly at the prone Trixie next to him, "Run!"
Trixie's bravery had been used up for the day. She immediately bolted past where Blueblood was cowering and galloped into the forest. Blueblood, not wanting to be alone but not wanting to be with the hydra either, immediately followed her.
Hans and Franz stayed behind, facing the hydra with their hooves braced. The guards were unarmored and unprepared. They hated the prince's guts with nearly every fiber of their being. However, they still had a duty to uphold.
They pawed the ground with their fore-hooves. From far above them, three out of four hydra heads acknowledged their combatants (the remaining one just looked at them stupidly) and the beast readied itself.
They charged.
The guards' noble sacrifice bought Trixie and Blueblood the time they needed to gallop deep into the Everfree Forest. Blueblood grieved for his long time companions as he would a favorite bow-tie that fell in his drink. The two unicorns did not know how long they ran through the woods, over logs and under hanging vines, propelled forward by the spooky sounds of unknowable creatures surrounding them.
Finally, they collapsed in a small clearing, panting for breath. About the time they had regained it, Blueblood heard something strange. A strange, wet, feminine noise. He realized that Trixie was crying. That really got under his coat for some reason.
"What is this?" he demanded pompously of her.
A more effective cure for crying there never was. Blinking tears out of her eyes, Trixie faced the prince with the full force of a mare's scorn, "You want to know why the Great and Powerful Trixie is crying?! You, foal, could not possibly understand!"
The prince had allowed this uncouth behavior to go far enough, "Now, see here-" he countered angrily.
"No!" interrupted Trixie, launching into a fury-laden tirade, "You see here. Up until you met the Great and Powerful Trixie, you never had to work a day in your life! When you ran away from home, you didn't have to work the backstreets and alleys performing simple card tricks for bits. Neither did you have to work your way up the ladder of the stage! You could not possibly know how it is like to risk everything by taking it on the road, only to see it destroyed before you, not once, but twice!"
The prince was momentarily taken aback, sputtering for words, but then served her anger back to her, "Oh, so you believe being a prince is easy?! I do not believe the Great and Powerful Trixie," he said the title with all the sarcasm he could muster, "was forced, every day of her young life, to attend thousands of lessons in diction, royal etiquette, and more! Further, our royal person is quite certain a commoner such as you could never understand the pressures of rulership, to have everything decided for one's self in advance, to never be allowed to do one thing on your own, all in the name of preserving your good name. Then, one day, you try doing one little thing on your own, only to lose everything by becoming the laughingstock of all of Equestria!"
Trixie saw a vulnerability and she stabbed it, "The Great and Powerful Trixie believes a snotty little prat like you deserved to become the laughingstock of all Equestria."
The prince parried, "Then our royal person believes a wretched little showpony like you deserved to lose your wagon!"
"What's the matter, prince?" Trixie's voice dipped with venom, "Afraid to admit you're just a bad luck charm to everypony around you?"
Blueblood blanched. Thinking back to recent events, it really did feel like he was the black hole of misfortune, the unluckiest pony in all the universe. (After all, he was the center of it.) Braced by his gigantic ego, he immediately decided not to allow it to depress him. Instead, he would become more angry than he had ever been in his life.
The prince had been taught never let his emotions show on his face. It felt oddly therapeutic to scrunch his face into a ball of fury and project it at Trixie. He stuck his neck out and growled at her, "GRRRRRR!"
Trixie returned the gesture, bringing her nose up only two inches from his face, growling right back, "Grrrrrr!" It was cuter when a mare did it, but he knew she was being deadly serious.
Then, "GRAAAAAAAAAAAAUGGH!" screamed all four heads of the hydra as it stepped into the clearing, drowning the two ponies in noxious breath.
Angry time was over. Blueblood and Trixie ran.
Again, the two unicorns did not know how long they were galloping through those terrifying woods. Worse, they did not have any brave ponies to sacrifice themselves in order to buy time. No, the hydra was right on their tails. They could not even split up, whenever one dove off to the side the hydra would extend one of its necks and force them together again. The monster was fully in control of their fate, herding the pair before them, knowing it would be able to enjoy, not one, but two delicious snacks the moment they ended up trapped by the terrain, unable to continue forward.
It was incredibly fortunate, then, that where they ended up running was over a rotting rope bridge extending over a canyon. The hydra stopped abruptly before the bridge: it may have been hungry, but it wasn't stupid (well, one of its heads was stupid, but it did not have the majority vote). It raged on the other side of the rope bridge, watching the ponies escape. Then it noticed the rope bridge was the only way out from the stone island they had crossed to. It retreated into the forest just out of view and sat there, waiting for them to return.
When they felt they were out of the hydra's reach, the two ponies collapsed on the opposite end of the bridge, again panting for breath. The chase had thoroughly scared them off the colliding trains of thought they were on beforehand. Recovering their breath, they stood and took in the scenery around them.
Trixie vocalized the question going through her mind, "What is this place?"
Prince Blueblood knew, as part of his lessons involved being briefed on the royal holdings. With perhaps a little extra pride in his voice, he said, "This is the ancient castle of the royal pony sisters."
Trixie frowned, "It's a dump," she said.
True enough, the castle had long fallen into ruin, its dilapidated walls had crumbled in many places, it was as gray and overgrown as the misty confines around it. However, knowing that going backwards would be a death wish, the wayward prince and thoroughly dispossessed magician had no choice but to press on inside.
The fallen antechamber was thoroughly spooky. Vines climbed pillars near the walls that supported a ceiling that had long since rotted away. The once majestic stain glass windows had managed to lose every last flake of glass, leaving behind incomplete rusting metal frames. In the center of the room was a strange moss-encrusted statue, its purpose unknown, appearing as though it my have once held five round artifacts.
Trixie and Blueblood did not have much opportunity to take in the incredible sight. As they neared the center of the room, a loud rustling spooked them. They realized that they were not alone. Behind them, out from a pillar next to the door crept a strange creature indeed. A many-spiked lizard with the head of a chicken. It did not seem to have noticed them yet.
Trixie's loud shout attracted the attention of the prince, "Don't look at it! That's a cockatrice! Its gaze will petrify you!"
Her loud shout also attracted the attention of the cockatrice. With an aggravated chuck, it hissed at the two ponies who were now carefully looking away from it. They could hear its claws scrabbling closer.
"What should we do?" asked the prince in hushed tones.
"Run!" replied Trixie.
There was no argument as, so far, that plan had served them well. They turned and ran to the end of the antechamber, to what looked like a dead end, but then spotted a hallway hidden behind a pillar. They ran down it, side by side, until the hallway forked. Without time to decide which direction to turn, they split up, Trixie to the left and Blueblood to the right.
The prince registered their separation with increased fear, fear for himself and something even more important than that. (Something more important than himself? A strange impossibility he did not have time to think about.) As he galloped down the hall and turned a corner, he was greeted by a most welcome sight: the walls fell away, revealing an open plain!
Then he heard Trixie scream from within the castle. He realized that this was the perfect opportunity. With Trixie distracting the cockatrice, escape was sure to come. He happily sprinted forward.
And stopped. He wondered to himself, about that. Why did he stop?
Trixie screamed again, and he found himself oddly curious to see what was bothering her.
For a moment, his desires to save his hide and satisfy his curiosity fought. In the front of his mind was his ego, the proud and self-satisfied prince. It was on the defensive, fighting back desperately against that unidentifiable terrible primal throbbing coming from the back of his skull.
Blueblood turned and began to canter in the direction of Trixie, assuring himself that he was just going to take a look.
Then, he began to gallop.
As Blueblood turned the last corner of the hallway Trixie had fled down, he found his curiosity satisfied. There, in a ruined (yet still very solid rock) corner of the castle of the royal pony sisters, was a very desperate Trixie. She was panicking, trapped, fore-hooves scrabbling against the wall blindly with her wizard's hat pulled down over her eyes.
The reason was immediately evident: wings outstretched, crowding her as it stepped ever nearer to her, forcing her into that corner, was the cockatrice! Blueblood idly noted that it would only be a matter of time until the creature's potential to physically attack would force Trixie to confront it, and then...
That annoying sensation that had been building in the back of Blueblood's skull, one that had always been a very uniquely Trixie infliction, now ignited, and became an inner fire that suffused the entirety of his being.
With all the pride befitting his aristocratic background, Blueblood strut forward, and stomped a fore-hoof firmly on the cockatrice's tail, just past the spikes. The cockatrice hissed a loud cluck of pain and turned sharply at its new aggressor, its red eyes glowing red with rage... and something worse. Smirking defiantly, Blueblood stared right back into those eyes, and felt the unmistakable sensation of their views locking together with magic.
"I recommend you leave now, oh Great and Powerful Trixie," said Blueblood airily, unwavering as petrification began to overcome his body, beginning at his tail and hooves and slowly working its way upward, a sensation that was at first bitingly cold and then completely numbing. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Trixie recover from her fear long enough to cast him a quick glance before bolting past the cockatrice for the exit. Blueblood felt oddly satisfied knowing that, with the greater part of his body weight firmly down on its tail, there was no way the beast would be able to pursue her even after its grim work was done.
Blueblood had two thoughts, then.
The first thought was a bitterly ironic observation: he had spent nearly his entire life as nobility, but this was the first time he ever felt truly noble. It was an alien feeling, one that did not sit particularly well with him, and yet, somehow it felt extremely right.
The second thought was that he would make an absolutely marvelous statue.
Then, he didn't think anything: rocks don't think.
Yet, after an indeterminable amount of time, this rock began to dream.
Blueblood was on the ballroom floor again, suave, turning in practiced elegance with the waltz, a beautiful stranger adoring him as they spun. And then another ballroom, another strange mare. Another, and another.
Blueblood was in the royal reception, meeting foreign dignitaries, their lovely daughters and wives swooning, worshipping him from afar. Blueblood turned on the charm and went to work, providing the necessary grease for the wheels that drove the bureaucracy Equestria, one heart at a time.
Blueblood was on the veranda, under a star-lit sky, alone except for an elegantly dressed strange mare before him, confessing her secret feelings for him. And then in a row boat, another star-lit sky, another mare whispering with blushed cheeks and pursed lips. Regardless of whether it was happening in a secret alcove, incognito in a commoner's cafe, or on a horse drawn carriage, Blueblood always wore the same mask of roguish perfection, a prop he had refined over the years, as these poor girls lined up one by one and scene by scene to tear their hearts out and drop them at his feet.
Blueblood faintly recognized he was reliving his recent life, right up to a certain major disgrace in Ponyville. However, he noticed something new as these experiences blurred together, a thought in common with each experience, a thought that did not repeat itself so much as reinforce itself continually, building in strength until it drowned out all else. Something was wrong, something important that he missed, or that was missing.
Then it came to him.
What was wrong was that he never had feelings for any of them.
Why should he? They were not in love with him at all. Not in love with the little colt who was denied a childhood. Not in love with the prince being lead by his nose through hundreds of lessons intended to improve his finery. Not even in love with the dashing prince that they were marveling at in the present moment.
No, they were in love with the idea of Prince Blueblood, a dashing figure to sweep them off their hooves and into a life of fairy tales. In every romance he had been coaxed into, no matter how intimate the circumstance, when he looked deep into the beautiful sparkling eyes of the mare before him, he saw an unmistakable vacancy that betrayed the truth: she was not seeing the prince before her, but rather watching her own inner fantasies playing through her head.
The first few times, it hurt, it truly did. But he was a trained performer, and he lived by their credo: the show must go on. In time, his heart had grown thick, calloused. Finally, it turned black. He came to relish a broken heart as a fine prize for a job well done. It empowered him, made him feel strong to know he could do that and get away with it.
In the end, all that was left was a faint logical suggestion, a theory he could understand but not subscribe to, that what he was doing was wrong.
It gave him such a headache sometimes.
Prince Blueblood's head was killing him. He groggily opened his eyes to see his fore-hooves out before him, and noted with some giddy satisfaction that they weren't made of stone.
He sat up and slowly took in his bearings. He was still in the castle of the royal pony sisters, facing the very same corner where he had met his stony demise. The cockatrice was still there, terrifyingly enough. However, it was now in a strong wicker cage with a blindfold firmly about its eyes, preening somewhat placidly.
As his head cleared, he heard a unfamiliar young mare's voice say, "Welcome back, nephew."
The last few rocks in his brain broke as the gears turned. Doing the math, he was able to deduce where the necessary magic had come to free him from his prison.
"Hello, Auntie Luna," he said.
Turning his gaze from the corner, he saw the night itself, a dark bluish alicorn shrouded with a nearly-invisible aura of eldritch darkness. It was indeed Princess Celestia's sister, Princess Luna. Despite being roughly the same age (perhaps minus the thousand years she spent while entrapped in the moon) Luna was, at most, only half a size larger than the average mare, and she had a definite look of youth about her. Even with the wisdom of centuries behind those eyes, she would, now and forever, always be Celestia's darling younger sister.
Next to Luna stood Trixie. At first glance, Blueblood thought she looked worried but, double-checking, he saw he was quite mistaken. No, she was extremely annoyed, disappointed in him for wasting her time. It seems she had a bit of a stroke of luck in finding Princess Luna in the whereabouts, but Blueblood was not overly surprised: though ruined, this was one of their castles, after all, and perhaps one that Luna was even more familiar with than the one in Canterlot.
With a loud harrumph, Blueblood wearily climbed to his hooves and stretched, dislodging a few pebbles that had settled on him, and stared hard at Trixie with the typical look of contempt painted across his face.
As the two unicorns leveled scathingly disapproving gazes at each other, something flickered between them, their minds united by mutual sentiment. They realized that they could see a bit of themselves in each other... and they hated what they saw. Arrogant, vain, downright mean, they would sooner eat a horseshoe than to give each other the time of day. They were self-centered jerks, nothing less, nothing more, and they preferred it that way.
Yet, if there was any chance under Celestia's sun or Luna's moon that they could possibly see around the colossal egos they held so dear, they would have said one thing to each other, a fundamental fact, an undeniable truth:
They were more in love with each other than they had ever been with any other pony in their lives.
This unvoiced mutual realization came from several things. Before it was drowned out by their personalities, Trixie and Blueblood had enjoyed a brief moment of love at first sight, as both of them were gorgeous and there was a certain something about each other that they liked from the start. In the brief time that they had come to know each other, they had discovered they both excelled at performing and, as performance was their life passion, it served as a bridge in which they could be passionate for each other. In fits of anger, they had accidentally related to each other their life stories, had found they had in common miserable lives, and the self-serving pity they had for themselves had made the transition to sympathy for each other. They had even chosen to risk it all in order to save each other's lives, Trixie from the cockatrice, and Blueblood from wasting away in isolation, and these uncommonly selfless gestures were not completely lost on even these two most selfish of ponies.
Most amazingly of all, the formidable number of positive things these two insufferably vain ponies had discovered about each other were actually slingshot into an even higher realm of love by the negativity that they wore on the surface. This was because looking at each other was like looking into a mirror and seeing an opposite gendered version of themselves, and they loved looking into mirrors.
In other words, as if it was not enough that these two ponies seemed made for each other, they also absolutely deserved each other.
Princess Luna cleared her throat sharply. With uncharacteristic looks of embarrassment, the two hopelessly narcissistic unicorns broke their gaze on one another, narrowly evading the possibility of starving to death enraptured in their reflections.
"Nephew, " said Luna, "I have a wagon waiting to take you back to your quarters in Canterlot." She pointed a fore-hoof through a large crack in the walls and into the distance, and Blueblood could see the wagon on the other side of the rope bridge, a full contingent of guards ready to repel any more hydra visitations.
Blueblood was relieved. While, not long ago, he had stoked a fiery spirit to run away from home, his adventure had put out those flames with all the ferocity of a waterfall. He was now quite certain that the best place for him was behind some very stout, well-guarded castle walls at Canterlot. Without a word, he haughtily set off for the wagon.
Of course, he stopped before leaving the room.
Not bothering to turn around, he stated, "I believe that our royal person would enjoy a bit of company on the way back to Canterlot. In fact, I seem to recall we have a vacancy at the castle for a royal magician, a position that includes lodging and very fair pay."
Head imperiously raised in the air, he craned his neck just enough to fix an eye on Trixie behind him, and saw on her face a smile reeking of the usual utter self-satisfaction as she replied, "In light of the recent destruction of the Great And Powerful Trixie's mode of transportation, home, and place of business, I accept."
As Blueblood ushered Trixie into the wagon with the practiced motions he had gained from hundreds of royal courtship rituals of the past, he decided to take a chance, to say something a little spontaneous.
"Great and Powerful Trixie, I do believe this will be the beginning of a truly terrible relationship."
Trixie paused for a moment with an unreadable expression.
She smiled then, a smug little smile, and said something she never thought she would say in her life.
"You may call me Trixie."
Epilogue
From a concealed clearing, Princess Celestia watched the wagon pull away on the path back to Canterlot.
When it was far enough away, she turned back to a terrible reptilian monster bent down into the bush not twenty feet away and pointed in the direction of Froggybottom Bog, its home. The hydra reared up, turned around, and trudged away. In departure, one of the heads blew a raspberry at her. Celestia ignored the sleight: hydras will be hydras.
With her were two very familiar guards, shuffling uneasily.
Princess Celestia turned to them demurely and said, "Hans, Fritz, you have permission to speak freely."
Hans was the first to break the silence between the two, "My liege, you know we do not mean to question your methods, but we must know: why did you go through such elaborate measures to help that insufferable nephew of yours in a simple matter of romance?"
Fritz chimed in angrily, "Begging your pardon, princess, but insufferable is right! Do you have any idea what he made us do to a defenseless baby dragon?!"
Princess Celestia's serenity was unbroken, their comments no more than a leaf gently impacting a calm lake. Of course, it was only natural that the far younger guards would not be able to understand an immortal's machinations. She rarely explained as, for her intervention to work the best, it took an invisible touch, and consequently there was an inherent danger that revealing her intentions may undo her progress. However, among the virtues she insisted on being in every one of her guards, one was the ability to keep a secret, and sometimes she liked to explain the reasons she incited her mad fiascoes. Besides, these two had earned it.
She began with the obvious, "Guards, you should know that my goal is to bring happiness to all my little ponies, especially the problematic ones." Hans and Fritz flinched, already feeling reprimanded, Celestia continued, "As for why we're doing this today, it's because it's all our fault."
The guards looked boggled. Hans asked, "Our fault, Princess?"
Celestia nodded, "As you may recall, Equestria has just escaped from a major crisis: Nightmare Moon's return, dark magics having perverted my sister into an wicked mare of darkness. Fortunately, my faithful student and her friends managed to end that crisis in the best way possible, quickly, before any lasting damage was done, and even returning my precious sister to me. It was my grandest plan yet, a millennium in the making, and it succeeded wonderfully. However, I ask you guards, was justice done for all?"
The guards were lost.
Princess Celestia shook her head softly, "No, I'm afraid not. For you see, there was a possibility my student would fail. Should that have occurred, Nightmare Moon's insane aims to bring everlasting night would bring nothing less than doom to ponydom, and I would not be there to stop her. That could not be allowed. We needed a plan B. Through the sheer poor luck of being born my nephew at the worst possible time, Prince Blueblood's entire life was to be that plan B."
The guards looked at each other dubiously: that ridiculous fop would stand against Nightmare Moon?
Princess Celestia was anticipating this, "Understand that no one pony could hope to stand up against an immortal, but together they may have a chance. My nephew's role was not to make decisions, as it would take the combined efforts of the best minds in all of Equestria to hope to outmaneuver our foe. No, my nephew's role was to be the figurehead, every bit as majestic as the alicorn he would oppose, the banner that all of Equestria would unite under in one last push against the darkness. For this, he was trained to be the representation of a perfect prince, indomitable, and as self-centered as possible so as to have the necessary confidence to inspire everypony even while Equestria crumbled around them."
The guards were gaping as understanding overtook them.
Celesta concluded the first point she had to make, "So it is that, out of our mutual love of Equestria, it truly is all of our fault that Prince Blueblood is what he is today: a figurehead cut loose from its mount, a vain representation of a higher ideal that turned out to be completely unnecessary." There were tears in Celestia's eyes, "Is it really any wonder that my dear, once innocent little nephew grew up to become such an insufferable, arrogant dandy? It was his special talent, we all made sure of that, and he was very good at it. I am extremely proud of him for enduring the terrible role that had been forced upon him by us all."
The guards looked very guilty, not only for the prince, but for making their beloved princess relive a sad memory. Celestia's explanation drifted to how it is they had arrived here today.
"Up until recently, I let Prince Blueblood run wild, to do what he learned to do best, to use his special talent in any way he saw fit. It was the least I could do." Princess Celestia's voice took on a bitter tone, "However, he went too far, his little escapade to Ponyville came too close to threatening something far greater than he knew. I found out far too late, arriving just in time to allow his rash actions to backfire catastrophically, irrevocably destroying his reputation, the very thing through which his special talent operated. Now, not only his destiny as a plan B, but everything he learned since he was a foal, has been completely and utterly denied to him."
But Princess Celestia sounded hopeful, "Yet, not all was lost. You see, guardsman, as long as a pony lives, no matter how dire their circumstances, no matter how terrible they feel, they can learn. Learning is very powerful. With it, one can overcome virtually any circumstance. All a pony needs is a chance, the right stimulation at the right time. I needed to teach my nephew something he could use to escape his cruel fate once and for all."
Her gaze returned to the road, the wagon was long out of sight, "As the cage that confines my nephew was the single-minded self-love we had deliberately instilled in him, I knew that his escape could only come from learning how to love somepony other than himself. When my faithful student informed me of Trixie's visit to Ponyville, I realized that she would be the key, one Prince Blueblood could truly fall in love with by virtue of her similarities to the one thing he held dear: himself. She is Prince Blueblood's best chance at redemption. I also knew that he was hers in the very same way, potentially curing two ponies at once."
Where the guards had been shamed by their association with the damage that had been done to the prince, they were now staggered by the part they played in an immortal's attempt to counteract it. They now understood exactly why Princess Celestia had launched this scheme, from the depths of Castle Canterlot and all the way to the ancient castle of the royal pony sisters. She concluded what they now knew, "As was my intent from the start, we have succeeded in teaching my nephew and Trixie how to love somepony other than themselves. Whether or not the curse of their vanity will truly be lifted is still uncertain but, so long as their love preserves, they will have many chances to improve, little by little."
Always one for teaching lessons, Princess Celestia thought it would be best to end this discussion with one, "If there's anything I want you guards to remember when you are enforcing justice throughout Equestria, it is that everypony is just doing the best that they can with what they were given, whether it be dark magics, dire straights, poor upbringing, or something even more complicated. Their wrongdoings are just harmful, clumsy attempts to cope, and our standing against them doing what we must to mitigate the damage. Ultimately, nopony chooses to be the villain, being a villain chooses them."
Sometimes, when Celestia smiled, it was like a sunrise. "And that, my dear guardsmen, is precisely why we did what we did today: because even villains deserve a chance at a happy ending." The guards looked into that sunrise and smiled back, satisfied at having completed a job well done, more confident than ever that they were ready to tackle whatever adventure awaited them next in service to the crown.
That confidence did not last long, as it was then that her royal highness Princess Celestia, incredibly cunning creature that she was, did something that caused both guards to seriously consider resigning on the spot. She sighed and said, "Oh, dear me. My nephew and Trixie under one roof. It will be quite some time until peace and quiet is restored to Castle Canterlot. It seems that I have even outsmarted myself!"
