“Blueblood?” Trixie gaped at him in disbelief, foam still dripping down her chin. “You’re Prince Blueblood?”

“Please, please,” he chortled self-assuredly. “Just Blueblood.”

“Trixie had no idea that she was in the presence of royalty,” she made a hurried attempt to clean herself. “Forgive me, your highness, Trixie has nev- I mean, it is not often that Trixie is blessed by the presence of nobility.”

“That’s quite alright,” Blueblood motioned for a couple more drinks, even though his latest one hadn’t been touched at all. “I forgive you.”

It got awkwardly quiet after that. If Blueblood was still expecting her to continuously fawn over him he was sorely disappointed. Trixie instead turned uncomfortably back to her drink, avoiding eye contact. Somehow, Blueblood felt that something had gone wrong at some point or another.

“Er… another round, would you?” he waved at the bartender again before turning once more to the uneasy mare. Blueblood was unused to not being the focus of somepony’s attention in a conversation, and those did not actually concern himself quickly became boring. “So… Trixie, was it?”

“Yes?” she didn’t bother adding the oh-so-important ‘your highness’ this time, which Blueblood found mildly annoying even though he had requested otherwise. Her quick and snappish tone threw him off a little, but he was quick to resume his confident pose as he leaned comfortably against the bar.

“Surely you must be somepony of no small importance,” he took a small sip from his fresh mug, not so much as thanking the silently busy bartender. Trixie began to answer, but once again she looked away in shame.

“… Not really,” she muttered just so that he could hear. “Trixie isn’t quite what she used to be.”

“Nonsense,” Blueblood chortled. “Stallions must be lining up to meet you.

Trixie only shook her head.

“Oh?” he leaned in interestedly. “So, you’re single then?”

“Are you serious?” Trixie balked at him. “Do you honestly think Trixie is that gullible?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Blueblood leaned on one elbow, grinning. “I just find you very… interesting is all.”

“If Trixie were the easy two-bit mare that you think she is,” she puffed herself up angrily, “then Trixie would have been all over you the moment you said ‘royalty’! Trixie has standards!”

“Oh, and I don’t meet up to your standards?” he shot back. “Well, what about my standards, huh? Maybe you don’t meet expectations!”

“What expectations, we just met!”

“So maybe I hold you personally to higher standards!”

“What does that have to do with anything!?”

“Maybe everything!” Blueblood hardly noticed that his voice had raised to match her own.

“Maybe you don’t meet Trixie’s expectations!”

“As if! Maybe you’re too full of yourself!”

“Maybe you’re a pompous dick!”

Blueblood didn’t really hear what else she had to say. He was too busy kissing her.

Which Trixie was returning, oddly enough. She fell into the grip passionately, almost with heat – her touch was hot, like he was being branded. Not that Trixie minded all that much, as evidenced by her enthusiasm that somehow kept up with Blueblood’s. He didn’t slow down, not for an instant, fervently pulling her deeper as their lips met again and again, drawing the breath from her with each fiery touch.

The bartender only shook his head, not even bothering to glance their way as he continued to shine the already spotless bar.

“Well, that escalated quickly.”

Blueblood lay staring at the velvet ceiling in his four poster bed, his almost comfy pillows still not offering the embrace he needed to sleep.

He was still very much buzzed, he could feel it. Although whether it had been from the cider he had quaffed too much of was questioned. He could still taste the gorgeous mare’s lips on his own, where his hoof once again touched. Filthy peasant lips had actually touched his pristine royal ones, but that wasn’t his main concern.

She had been into it.

She was into him.

Finally, somepony that showed him something that wasn’t a mockery of respect, but something genuine… even if he couldn’t quite identify what that genuine thing was.

Blueblood had felt it, even after they had awkwardly broken away and left in horrendously uncomfortable silence. But he still felt it, and he was positive from the last look she gave him that she had, too. It had been too long, too deep of a kiss to have been anything playful. The way she had leaned into him with everything she had, pulling him tighter in need as he gladly returned the favor…

It was keeping him awake.

And that was the last thing that Blueblood wanted.

Once again, he found himself pacing.

Albeit, in slightly wobbly circles, but pacing nonetheless.

I can’t believe this. I cannot. Believe. This. That stupid, insipid mare, he thought venomously to himself. That inane WENCH has gone and done this to me – me, of all ponies!

He stomped hard at the heavily carpeted floor, hardly leaving a print. Blueblood only gritted his teeth, pacing again and again.

She had to have done this to me on purpose. Feminine wiles is what she’s using, some kind of mind trickery – something in the cider maybe, I don’t know!

Blueblood almost wanted to shout it, and would have if he hadn’t gone through all the trouble of sneaking back into the palace undetected.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know how she was making him feel these… feelings. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Blueblood collapsed onto his bed again, groaning into his pillow. The wretched mare was going to be the death of him.

She really is. That Trixie is going to be the death of me. Not that it wouldn’t be a bad way to go…

Blueblood swiftly pushed the thought from his mind, struggling to find sleep.

She’s going to be the death of me. Trixie is undoubtedly one of the most obnoxious, self-absorbed, crude, vapid shrews I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, he thought finally to himself, dragging the covers as tightly to himself as he could.

… Titans, I can’t wait to see her again.