Chapter One: Prince Blueblood Don’t Care

Peasants. How quickly the mask of civility falls off their dull features, and ponies wonder why I so despise dealing with them. If it were up to me, I would never leave the castle. Hell, I would never leave my personal quarters. But Princess Sparkle will not allow that. Apparently, a pair of wings and a few cute spells gives her authority over me. Every few days, she comes into my room and tells me to go out on the town, get some fresh air.

Aunt Tia would understand. She was happy to let me relax in the royal library with my maps, or reserve the spa and take a day just to be pampered. Sometimes she made me go out, such as that awful night at the Gala a few years back. She thought if I was never seen rubbing shoulders with the public, the peasants would start to think I had been banished to the moon, or some such absurdity. But Aunt Tia is not here anymore. Aunt Luna has taken the dominant position in government. I should be ruling by her side, but for some strange reason, Princess Sparkle is now the other half of the diarchy. Aunt Luna said it is better that way.

Oh yes, Aunt Tia. She is gone. One day she is speaking with the royal court about a new settlement in the borders of Everfree Forest, the next she is gone. All she left behind was a quickly scrawled letter on her pillow. Five words, written on royal parchment, in her hoof writing, with her magical imprint. I read the note only once. Not even a “sincerely yours” or her signature. The mare who had guided Equestria for over a thousand years, disappeared overnight. The letter ended with a request. Five words.

Please don’t look for me.

You cannot imagine how angry the peasants were. The accusations that they slung were vicious and disgusting. I heard it was bad from Ponyville to Saddle Arabia, but I cannot imagine anything worse than here in Canterlot. That first day Luna raised the sun, and then had to face the masses, who wanted to know where Celestia was, I would like to say things got better from there. How the peasants produced signs so quickly is beyond me, but on that very first day, they were already protesting the shift in governing power. They shouted such cruel things at Aunt Luna. One would think at such a conflicted time, ponies would come together. Instead, all they could think to do was tear one another apart. They mocked her and ridiculed her. They demanded to know what had happened to Princess Celestia, and just would not take, “We do not know,” as an answer. Princess Sparkle attempted to coax the mass. She probably figured she was still one of them, they would recognize her and feel empathy for her. Her reward was a volley of tomatoes thrown at her face. By the end of that first week, they were calling Luna the ugly duckling sister. I would rather not repeat what they said about Princess Sparkle. Perhaps I dislike Princess Sparkle, but the things they say about her… disgusting.

Aunt Luna is… well, I think if Aunt Tia could see her now, she would be proud. Aunt Luna has been taking all that hatred, all that bile, all the insults slung at her… she has taken them in stride. No matter what is shouted at her, or what is thrown, she keeps up a smile. Like a good princess; she raises both the sun and the moon, and continues to guard those who sleep, along with attending banquets and christenings that Aunt Tia was already scheduled to…

Princess Sparkle has done her part, trying to calm the masses, trying to inspire something in their shallow hearts. Her brother and his wife have even left the Crystal Empire and come to Canterlot, hoping to keep the riots under control. It is all for nothing. The peasants will tear themselves apart. That is just what they do. I have tried to explain that, but I only earn angry glares from the captain and the three alicorns.

Why should I care anyway? That is what Aunt Luna and Princess Sparkle and Cadance just cannot answer. Why should I care about these peasants when they would string me up by my entrails the first chance they got? Aunt Tia would go on some tirade about how, when you have power, it’s not a question of should you help the weak, it’s a fact that you must. That is why Aunt Tia has run away from her responsibilities and left us all alone with a mob of angry peasants.

A night on the town, that is what Princess Sparkle ordered me to have. Just, make an appearance, she said. Rub shoulders with peasants, let them know you’re alive. I think she just wants me out of the castle so her and the other alicorns can talk in peace. I do not mind. A pair of leggy pegasi sisters on my arms, fawning over me, there are worse ways to spend the night.

First up is the spa, where we get the “royal treatment.” I was not able to reserve the entire spa, but it is not that bad. Massages, hooficures, my horn sharpened and the pegasi sisters have their feathers… plucked… or preened, or whatever it is called. Then it is on to Cotton’s Candy Shop, where we got some special sweets. It is the sisters’ idea. I am not a huge fan of confections myself, even the highest class ones, but their lips drool at the thought of something sweet, and I just do not have the heart to say no. It is not a bad way to spend a night, though truthfully, I would rather be in the castle with Aunt Luna. Noam Clopski’s, a unicorn scholar in Manehattan, has released an essay regarding the fascist nature of the present government system. It would have been nice to mock and ridicule his ideas with Aunt Luna, and then listen to one of Aunt Luna’s stories about “the good old days.” It would be nice.

Instead, as I step out of the sweet shop, I notice a veritable swarm of peasants stomping along. At first I assume it is just one of the usual mobs that have been wandering the streets of Canterlot, looking for something to burn or windows to throw rocks through. But I notice the ghastly white masks they wear on their face. The masks had become a stable of Canterlot, even before Aunt Tia’s disappearance. The masks bear the twisted visage of Discord, although they are completely white, perhaps to mimic the haunting look he wore when he was cast in stone a second time. They are a cult or a gang, I am not quite sure, but they call themselves Discordians. They are responsible for the ugly posters of Aunt Tia, denouncing her as a tyrant. Now, with Aunt Tia gone, they have turned their attention to Luna and Princess Sparkle, and begun to plaster the walls of Canterlot with signs. For Luna, they make up portraits where her snout has been replaced with a duckbill. For Princess Sparkle, her portraits have the words “Tyrant Jr.” scrawled across the face. The Discordians are many things, but clever is not one of them.

I am content to let the peasants have their fun. They do not seem to be hurting anyone. They are just screeching some sort of awful chant about tyranny and royalty. It does not rhyme. With a pair of fine pegasi sisters flanking me, I trot along, until I hear my name. Well… sort of.

“Prince Blueballs,” one of the Discordians says, trotting out of his herd.

Cowards take comfort in numbers. When a pony is too weak to stand on his own, he leans against others, and others lean against him. I am almost shocked this lead pony does not shatter like glass the moment he leaves the embrace of his kin. With my magic, I slip his mask up so I can look into his eyes, though he quickly retreats and shields his face with his wings. This is the first time I notice he is a pegasus. He is about my size, maybe a little taller and a little stockier. He keeps his wings out now, as if he might appear larger. Like I said: coward.

“Blueblood, feather brain,” I say coolly. “Try to get it right. I am the guy you pay taxes to.”

“No, Blueballs sounds better. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

The two mares who had been on my arm, whose spa time I had paid for, waltz forward and settle beside the stallion. I roll my eyes, and make a note to give Princess Sparkle a piece of my mind. She is the one who set me up with these two mares. Although I try to turn and head back to the castle, the idiots do not seem content to let me leave.

“Funny how often you’re seen with a mare on your arm, and yet they all seem to agree, nothing ever happens between you. Why is that?” the leader asks. “Would you rather bang your sister? That’s what nobility does, isn’t it? Or maybe you just can’t keep your horn straight.”

The peasant thinks he hit some nerve. He thinks he got under my skin. The most obvious reason I am walking away never occurs to him: he is just not worth my time. Some little dweeb shouting insults at my rump is not exactly bothersome. The only problem is, getting an eyeful of my… magnificent backside is too good for him. Of course, there is no angle I am not magnificent, so no matter how I walk away, he is in for a treat. I do not mind his slurs. I have been called worse in my life, after all.

“But hey, what could we expect from the nephew of a tyrant whore?”

Punching is not the easiest thing for a stallion to do. All four of our legs support a lot of weight, after all, and I have always been a bit front heavy. It would be easier to rear and buck the coward standing behind me, but when he says those words, I guess something snaps inside me. I push back onto my rear legs, and spin in a tight circle. Using the momentum of my spin, as well as the momentum of falling forward, I drive my right hoof into the pegasus’ crown. I do not know what I was thinking, to be honest, but by the sun, did it feel good to break that idiot’s head under my hoof. Even the shockwave of pain that runs up my arm cannot put a dent in my bliss.

It takes a minute or two, but eventually, all the Discordians realize I just punched out their leader. Like a swarm of angry ants they are upon me.

It has been a long time since I have been in a fight. At the academy, there were sparring matches, but those always had rules, and supervisors with sticks that would pound you if you failed to return to your corner at the bell. In my younger days, the boys and I would go out to some earth pony bar and pick a fight with the stockiest draft horse we could find. Those were real fights. Those were fights where anypony could jump in and pound you. That is the kind of fight I find myself in now, although now I do not have my friends to watch my back. I do what I can. I punch and swing and kick madly. I even bite a couple, and get their blood to wet my teeth. It is thirty against one, though, and they have sticks and rocks and whatever else they can pick up. It does not last as long as I would like.

Then, all of a sudden, they stop. Or, maybe they all keep hitting me, but I am too far past pain. Somewhere, over the rush of blood that is pooling in my ears, I hear Captain Armor’s booming voice.

“Step away from the prince and disperse,” he shouts. “Return to your homes.”

One hoof beneath me, firm on the ground, and somehow I manage to push myself up. There is an awful pain in my neck, but I manage to lift my head to look over the crowd. There is Shining Armor, standing on a soap box or something. Beside him, fluttering in the air, is Princess Sparkle. She looks angry, but she always looks that way when dealing with me. A magenta bubble shield opens around me, which is good, since a moment later I collapse again. The bubble is at least soft, and I do not have to worry about the Discordians and their sticks.

“Return to your homes,” Princess Sparkle says.

Of course, one of the Discordians has to be a moron, and strolls forward. It is one of the mares who had been attached to my side for most of the night. “No,” she says, and looks to the others, hoping for signs of encouragement.

Princess Sparkle’s eyes glow. So does her horn. After a blinding flash of light, all the Discordians have disappeared. “That wasn’t a request,” Princess Sparkle mutters, and she trots forward in front of me. The bubble pops and I drop to the ground, though manage to remain firm on my hooves. At least until she swings and slaps across my jaw.

“What the buck were you thinking?!” she screams. One of my eyes is swelling shut. With the other, I can see crystals forming in the corners of her purple eyes. Why is she crying? Had that spell taxed her magic to the point of causing pain? “You could have been killed, BB. What is wrong with you?! You could have been killed!”

“Don’t call me, BB,” I snap.

“They could have killed you! If Luna hadn’t spotted you, they would still be beating you!”

I put my hooves beneath me, and with all my strength, try to stand. I want to look strong in front of the captain and the princess, but my body betrays me. I fall, but Captain Armor erects another bubble shield that keeps me safe and secure. That’s good, since in another moment, I pass out.