Gold and Brimstone : The Ultimate Team of Destiny

by WiseFireCracker

First published 15th of January, 2015

Once upon a time, somepony decided that a certain unicorn prince needed to prove his devotion to Equestria by watching over an insane criminal with extraordinary circumstances. Equestria was never the same again.

What do you get when you place a pompous, prissy and petulant prince with an absolutely insane former extraterrestrial individual with a bad case of Chaos?

Love, adventures, spying, strong desires to strangle the other, romance, lots and lots of foals, grimdark, pudding, cults, injustice, justice, strong friendship, weak sanity, history, stories, a rocket jumpsuit, three opportunities to take over the world and a cockatrice. On Sunday.

Things… You get things.

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And when you're especially lucky, you get a great cover art from an artist like Mix-up (also seen on fimfic here)

A Match Made in Pony Heaven

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, things went truly batshit insane. After an alien from a different dimension accidentally freed the God of Chaos and walked the land as a parody of a pony whose mother had had a bad relationship with a chimera, things were dire. So very dire. Anvils jumped, pussies rampaged, apples visited bloody vengeances on the birds that ate their unborn children and chocolate continued to fall upon the lands without a single dollop of ice cream in sight. Many thought all was lost, while everyone else had lost the ability to think beyond fridge and seventy. Until six mares of great virtue united and overcame every trial to unlock the ultimate power of the ultimate magical artifacts and ultimately save the day.

Super Harmony was restored when the six colored rainbow blasted the bastard back into a statue and he was shipped off to a secret location, many of whom believe it to be hell. As a side note, I truly wish it was. Hell. For Discord. Seriously, screw that guy, and not in the same way you screw a bottle cap.

But anyway, where was I, paper? Oooooooooooh, yeah, yeah, I remember.

The one crazy bunker guy got a trial, where everypony and their mother – no, ESPECIALLY their mother – unloaded their grief with the moron that had allowed the draconequus to escape.

Thus, the totally-not-as-cool-as-I-imagined princess of the night decided that the only fitting punishment was for this immensely sympathetic idiot to be shackled to a much less sympathetic idiot: Prince Blueblood.

Now, prepare, colts and fillies and everything in-between, for the tale of an unlikely duo becoming the best thing since sliced ham.

Ahem…

It all started where all good stories start: in a prison cell.

“What an oddly decorated prison cell,” said ten voices in unison.

Ten voices that, oddly, belonged to the one and only me. ‘Me’ being defined as the sin against ponykind known as Honest Havoc. No idea what other name I had before. Could be Jonesy Mc Elegantbird for all I knew.

Though that one sounded surprisingly plausible… Huh, maybe thinking to myself would do me good.

Not like I had much to do when there were shadows stretched over my body and pillars of undefined material standing between me and the light.

“This isn’t a prison cell; this is the antechamber of the throne room,” a delectably detestable diarch-lite sighed, sounding oddly defeated.

Interesting that he thought it wasn’t a prison, but all the signs were there. He wouldn’t trick me with a clever ruse. The day he tried to trick me by acting normal, however, was the day I would buy that bridge to Terabithia. With my sheer charisma. Because I had no money, and was prisoner of the Crown.

Suddenly melancholic at the dark reality that I was in Equestria yet unable to do what I want, I ran my claws along the bars of my cell. “If only those restraints did not exist.”

However, Prince 475nmSanguine was determined not to let me accept my tragic destiny.

“Those are not restraints either,” he said with something close to exasperation. “You’ve simply elected to hide under the chairs and pretend that they are the bars to a cell.”

I blinked. Had I really done that?

…NAAAAAH!

“Perhaps that in another reality, you would be right,” I explained in triumph as I slide between the legs of the chair and stood. “But I am pretty sure that this place is a prison. If it weren’t, wouldn’t I be able to leave and go on my own?”

Stunned by my great logic, Blueblood’s eyes focused completely on me, without blinking, his eyebrows so high that they disappeared under his mane.

Huh, maybe he was cool after all. Who knew Blueblood had ninja eyebrows?

Now, see, I was torn, right there. Ninja eyebrows were inherently very cool. Blueblood, on the other hand-slash-hoof, was the very definition of uncool. The dictionary I had bought years ago read:

Uncool: adj. A white unicorn prince that snobs others and acts disdainful toward national heroes.

So, really, he was just asking for it.

"How?" I cried out and let my body fall to the ground like gelatin. "What have I possibly done to deserve this?"

“Do you want me to read over the list of charges? Because I am certain that the answer lies somewhere in here,” Prince Blueblood replied, levitating a large scroll within a shiny blue aura.

My lips pursed together into the definition of a large smile. Key word being ‘definition’. I just showed my teeth. "But I thought Equestria had signed a Geneva Convention on the ethical treatment of criminals?"

For whatever reason, he smirked. “Whatever treaty they did sign neglected to include anything against the unethical treatment of princes.”

I rolled my eyes at that, hit by a staggering amount of sanity. "I'm sure the life of a prince is a terrible one."

“Oh, fear not!” He took on a cheerful tone not unlike my own. “It was wonderful, but now I have to be tied to an insane stallion for the rest of my days. And be legally responsible for you. That is certainly something I did not sign up for!”

And throughout all this, he’d just look tired. Real tired. Big bags under his eyes. Not happy like me, just… dead on his hooves. Gone-through-the-ringer dead. Huh.

Somewhere in my brain, the image of a large Celestia making ponies sign contracts with their blood and guts appeared, and I barely held in a loud guffaw. "What did you sign up for? Cakes every day?"

A loud snort came from his general direction.

“Backstabbing politicians, underage teenage mares – and stallions for that matter – trying to get my flanks for themselves, and the disdain of the goddess of the night, apparently,” he listed off with a deeply disdainful tone.

"HOLD IT!" I pointed an accusatory hoof, making a large speech bubble appear beside me. "You had no way of knowing that Luna would return until not too long ago. And I'm sure you were already a prince before the Longest Night."

My superior deductive skills barely fazed him. For a split second, he frowned, but that was lost on the spot in favor of looking even more like a donkey – no, wait, ass.

“Oh please,” he spoke with a tone reserved for a young child. “The Princess has been preparing for Luna’s return since she was banished”

Huuuuuuuuuh? "You knew? Like, how could you?” I reached for his chest with my claws to verify he was real. But the test was inconclusive. “Aren't you supposed to be dim?"

“I wasn't aware that the tabloids were allowed in prison…” he muttered, glancing toward the door and possibly through it with X-Rays to see the guards outside. He did not say either way, but he looked at me with a severe tone. “I am not dim. I wouldn't be in the public eye if I was.”

I tilted my head to the side. "You're not? Are you sure? What if you think you're intelligent, but you're actually really dumb?"

His face scrunched up, wrinkled a bit on the edge of his muzzle, and he swallowed an imaginary lemon. That was not my friend, I have to say.

You cannot trust lemons. They are sour and slutty. And since Blueblood had put one in his mouth, it was proof he was both.

“If I were dumb, I would be tucked away in an estate far out in the country side where no one would know of my existence. I am quite sure of my intelligence, thank you very much.” Shaking his head, he leveled a glare at me. “Where did you hear that anyway? I would take a few guesses, but there was a catastrophe a few days ago.”

I shrugged nonchalantly, expertly hiding my distrust of a lemon-eater. "Beats me. I'm sure I knew it before I exploded out of Discord's statue."

“You…” he said, suddenly losing strength and letting his voice trail off.

To kill the time, I attempted to use my snake tongue. Its long shape should intimidate time into leaving me alone. Thus, an epic battle began.
I did not know if I managed to actually lick time, but whatever it was tasted like my forehead. So I would now have to contend with a possibly time-slaying tongue.

And during all this dead-time, Blueblood had only been staring at me intently, tapping his hooves against the floor. Shame I had forgotten Morse code.

"Are we waiting for something?" I asked innocently.

“For you to stand,” he deadpanned. “Then, we'll need to get you settled into my adjoining room....”

My heartbeat accelerated. "Huh? I get my own room? I was so sure I would get a chain on the wall somewhere in a damp dungeon."

He snorted derisively at that. “If you did, I would have to stay there too. No, you'll be in my section of the palace.”

That sounded pretty interesting. Oh the possibilities!

"But what if I suddenly decide to sneak out at night to watch the stars?" I grabbed his collar and looked at him in despair. "Or if I invite my own guards to a game of luscious strip poker? What then?!"

“Most ponies walk around in nothing but fur anyway, it'll hardly be interesting. And you don't have guards, you have me…” And, as his ears heard what his mouth had said, he grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

"Huh." I blinked, momentarily stopped by this obstacle. Momentarily. "So... wanna play strip poker?"

For the first time since I had seen him, his face turned slightly pink. “You're… not wearing anything, it'd hardly be a fair game. Though, judging by this conversation, I doubt any game with you would be fair even if you were to own a clothing store.”

Every single part of my brain focused on the single most important thing he had said. When the words finally registered, big, bright and red in my mind, I gasped in utter shock. "I'm naked?!"

“…Yes, you are.”

But I did not hear his minor comment. I had much bigger chicken to on my mind. Or worries.

How could I have let that happen?! My tail slipped between my legs, as I suddenly decided to pace from one end of the room to another. Ants were running up my limbs otherwise.

Yet that beating pulse of stress still pulled my throat into a big knot. My fangs started to clatter. Something, something, I had to do something before I would implode!

So I grabbed the nearest chair and used its delicate gold imbedded wood as a bone to gnaw. "Fsn’Naked, fsn’naked, I’ssfsn’naked..."

Oh the humanity! So many strangers had seen my naked bottom. And possibly my naked wings too! What would Mom say to that?

‘Remember who you are…’

A cry of despair rose from my throat. I did NOT actually remember who I was! Mom would cry tears of shame at the thought that her son had become a hideously deformed horse nudist!

Another voice, that was definite not feminine enough to be Mom’s, pierced through my veil of wangst. “Most of the population of Equestria walks around naked, Havoc.”

"But I'm not most of the population!” I shouted back, gripping my chair so hard it started to crack. How could he say such absurdities?! “I must be at most a fraction of a percent of the population. I know I saw more than a hundred ponies around."

Three hundred and forty-two, actually, my good friend, said the broken handle of a broom. The dancing crowd and the paparazzi not included.

Wait, so that meant there was pollution in the databank! Erronous conclusions had been drawn!

“For the sake of Science,” I told Blueblood, tapping on the ground repeatedly, “I will entertain the idea. So, if I divide myself by a few thousands, what do I get?”

“Death,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And a mess.”

I looked at him quizzically. “How do you know?”

Out of nowhere, the prince of the unicorn, who was also the latest champion of a crocket tournament, ripped the long scroll he had been holding into tiny pieces.

“I was supposed to be telling you things right now…” He whispered with a long-suffering tone, holding his forehead with one hoof. “But I suspect they will only prolong this insufferable meeting. Just let go of that chair and come.”

I showed him my puppy-eyes. “Can I keep it? I promise I’ll feed it and take it outside.”

“…No. It is a chair.”

“Okay then, this is the start of a beautiful mutually disdainful relationship that will end with many deaths. Hopefully, no innocents will get caught in the crossfire. Now show me the way to our bedchambers, partner!”

After that, He-Who-Is-Blue-And-Bloody sighed and told me to just follow him back to his suite. I went after him eagerly. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do, except everything.

His place was okay. Just… cool, and maybe fun, with lots and lots of toys lying around and other fun things like antiques and priceless artifacts. The architect had clearly chosen pompous over functional, however, as no matter how hard I looked, I could not find a warp panel, only wooden drawers, shiny silk, flower pots, highly detailed portraits of ponies long dead, a bathroom and a secret passage.

Needless to say, I was bored.

“Day number cheese of captivity: I have made an important discovery…” I announced loud and clear over his feeble cries of ‘It’s only been five minutes...’ “Silks sheets are a delicacy to be enjoyed.”

With a gulp of satisfaction, I swallowed my sixth piece of silk, shivering at the taste of the soap used to wash it.

Blueblood, whose attention had previously been on a bottle of whiskey, stopped mid-motion. His eyes almost budged out of his skull, focused as they were on the sumptuous red sheets lying in my grip.

“Stop this at once!” He commanded, his voice thundering. “Those sheets were a present to my great-grandfather and are a family inheritance! They’re worth a fortune!”

Flinching, I felt my ears flatten against my skull. A puff of warmth exploded in my chest, of the unpleasant, shameful variety. Family stuff, eh?

“Huh…” I looked down at the shiny shiny red silk on the bed. Then, struck by an idea, I sheepishly looked back up. “Well, since I have already bitten into them five times, you can say they’re now worthless. And being worthless, they are now a hindrance, so I’m really doing you a favor by eating them.”

“I heard you were insane…” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes at me. “But that was almost logical.”

Looking up, I mused it over. “Yeah, I think I’m in one of my good moods.”

And because I was proud of it, I grinned widely at Blueblood. Though, quite honestly, I hadn’t expected him to react like he did.

All of a sudden, he pulled the bottle of heavy liquor closer to his chest, almost possessively. He cradled it onto his barrel, like it was his sole heir, and whispered it things on the tone of pure love. Gentle, his magic tilted it away, and its clear orange liquid filled his cup.

In one great swing, he downed it, and the next one just as swiftly. A sigh of content left his lips, as well as the smell of alcohol. “If I knew being photographed in that bar would have this kind of consequences, I would have just drunk myself in a stupor with my private wine cabinet…”

Frowning, I stayed silent, letting him act as he wanted. For now. I was comfortable enough on this bed… and the temptation of this sumptuous silk was still calling.

With what had to be movements designed to be boringly perfect, the prince put his royal rump on a red cushion. From one drawer flew an inkpot and a quill, and from another, a small notebook. Seemingly unconcerned by the munching I was doing in my corner, he started writing.

For a minute or two, the only sound was that of scritches and scratches on paper, and that of pouring liquor.

“What are you writing?” I asked, picking at a piece of tissue stuck between my fangs.

“A journal. It helps keep my thoughts in order,” he replied with an easy smile.

It took three seconds for the words to register, seven more to unfreeze my legs.

I leapt at the desk, grasping its edges with all my strengths, and asked in a shout, “It does?!”

And while I stared at the notebook that could apparently make ponies sane, Blueblood slowly leaned back. “I doubt any force on this world could make your thoughts logical.”

It was like a kick in the nuts.

Unable to fight the impulse, I ran toward the balcony, stopping short of leaving the inside of the castle. Something I caught in the corner of my eyes, maybe a guard or something. But it was enough to just stand here, because the wind entered at great speed and brushed harshly against my fur.

It was cold, a bit, which was a good way to calm down the burning in my throat, to kill the taste of bile and of ashes, the voices of red and crazy. They were buried under the sound of the wind and I could think.

“It’s lucky for you,” I said with a sing song tone, looking at view of Canterlot.

The light of the sun was shining on every roof, every building, reflected by the pure white marble that made up so much of the city. All of it seemed aimed at me, from this spot here, it really seemed to be.

Flinching, I turned my head away, lifting one leg in front of my eyes.

It shielded me from the light, though not from the sight of a curious prince. “Why is it lucky for me that you’re so… you?” he asked in a subdued tone.

A growl rising out of my throat, I twisted away fast enough to get whiplash. And fell on my sides as a result.

“W-well, you knoooooow,” I said with a high pitch version of all my voices. “In Ponyville, I was almost killed at some point, but Rarity instead sacrificed herself by jumping in a pit of lava that was luckily an illusion, unless the Element on her neck turned the real into a fake, and anyway, she jumped to save my life. Because I didn’t want to die. It’s scary.”

The red kept flowing between my claws, eluding me, falling in-between like liquid. And my guts suddenly twisted with a want, a burning, churning hot desire for BLOOD.

I staggered, fighting not to lose my balance while sitting, one of my wings suddenly flaring to life to stabilize me. It worked. On the physical level.

My jaws were clenched so tightly they hurt.

“Well, you treated Rarity like crap at the Grand Galloping Gala, so the moment I get logical, I’ll punch your face. And kick you in a painful place.”

His eyes flashed in anger, as his brows furrowed and his nostrils exhaled hot air. He took one step over me, almost looming with the difference in our heights, emboldened by liquid fire he probably still tasted on his prissy superfluous tongue.

The corners of my mouth twitched, spread wider in erratic spasms. In the back of my head, a certain someone whispered a few things, reminded me that blood tasted rather sweet and that organs made a filling meal.

However, luck had other plans. When my claws gripped at the stony floor, it created a nerve racking sound that made us both flinch.

As if brought back from a dream, Blueblood’s expression softened, his eyes closing while he took a deeper breath.

“Forget it. It is time for my meeting with Lady Silk Trade and I am now obliged by law to make you follow me.”

I blinked, and forgot the red monster inside. Silk Trade…?

Oh, a bubble burst in my brain, exposing a glorious idea in the form of a question. All too quickly, I followed after Blueblood, trotting like a good obedient colt. Hopefully, he would not suspect a thing.

Unfortunately, he was somehow struck by brilliance.

Eyes wide, he turned to me with a deep disdain. “…You are not allowed to test if she tastes like silk.”

--

Observatory Journal, by Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood.

Entry # 1

The one called Honest Havoc has so far proven to be as puzzling as the reports of the experts had led me to believe. While he spouts nonsense faster than would half the elected officials on the National Council with more sincerity than they have in their plot, he also hazards himself into making statements that seem to border on self-loathing and philosophy. His claims of being from another world and corrupted by Discord seem to be plausible so far, especially with the randomized knowledge he seems to have of Equestria. However, I will reserve judgment for now.

This afternoon, I will have a meeting with Lady Silk Trade, my first official function since accepting the charge of Honest Havoc. It will be a good occasion to judge exactly how much his presence will hinder me.

Though, if Luck smiles upon me, perhaps he shall be of some help.

Addemdum.

I still don’t know how to describe what he actually did.

…Aunt Celestia, please wake up soon.

A Glorious First Meeting

And so our brave heroes went together on the path of stuff, to do more stuff. It was very awesome, and sometimes boring. But that was the hazards of being true heroes. Sometimes your day just plain sucks.

…Wait, crap, don’t repeat that around your parents. They’ll be on my hide and I have so little to spare right now.

Hey, wait, don’t go play into the curtains either! They apparently might be valuable!

Blueblood and one of Celestia’s royal guard were currently talking, speaking in quiet voices with glances stolen to the door leading out of the office.

Unbeknownst to them, I had subtly started to listen to their conversation. Though I was still looking at my book, there was a window of opportunity for me to glance over the edges and see Blueblood’s desk with perfect clarity. So long as I didn’t make any noise, they would never suspect a thing.

Genius. Absolutely genius. They would never know what hit them, or didn’t hit them, depending on my mood.

Without a care for the eminent threat of my presence, Blueblood held a hoof to his forehead and demanded that the guard let her enter. He was ready, or so he said. It was a bit hard to tell from up here, on my perch.

Upon entering the office, I had discovered that the large bookshelves he kept as reference for his mapmaking work also doubled as insanely comfortable nests. Thus I was, a lone draconicorn lying down just beneath the ceiling, with my attention turned downward. I would most likely manage not to imagine them as prey running away from a predatory flyer.

As I subtly swallowed the extra saliva produced at that thought, the door opened on a very dressed earth pony lady, with layers upon layers of thick fabric in an ensemble, that, dare I think it, was kinda gaudy. Rarity would violently steal that horrific outfit away and burn it to save our souls if she ever saw it.

“Prince Blueblood,” the lady bowed respectfully, and with a wave of her hoof dismissed the guard at the door.

Blueballs nodded and gestured to a no less gaudy but adequately comfortable chair. “Mrs. Silk Trade.”

To my great confusion, she took that as an invitation to sit down. A smile stretched her face, though it was a bit hard to tell what she was thinking behind that. "I am so glad you could receive me today, Prince Blueblood."

Ah, well, it might meant that. Problem solved, I thought as I clapped my hoof and my paw together.

Both nobles down there glanced up at this, the beige lady pursing her lips together. "I was worried your new..." And on the next word, she hesitated, barely keeping a sneer off her face. "…functions... might prove to be detrimental to our arrangements."

For some reason, I could have sworn my handler’s teeth were grinding together. But that would have been crazy, he was smiling and speaking politely. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that his presence shall not detract from our business.”

And of course, his honeyed words worked their inexplicable magic. With a haughty little sniff, Lady Silk Trade raised her muzzle a little higher than usual. "I should hope so.” She stroked the collar of her outfit, patting it down and strangely pushing forward a small woven crest on her barrel. “Need I remind you of the importance of this agreement?"

With an almost monotone ‘of course not’, Blueblood lit up his horn and magically fetched out a big scroll he unfolded for her care. “I am certain you will find our numbers satisfactory.”

Smugly smiling, the mare took the scroll and slowly unfolded it before her. To my dismay, it seemed like she had chosen to read it before signing her name on the bottom. What a strange concept. It went against all logic, for in stories you must sign everything without noticing the little binding clauses in microscopic format in another language.

So, in the meantime, I rolled to lie on my back and look at the ceiling. It was quite fascinating, or boring, or in the process of melting on my face and destroying the WOOOOOORLD!

The thought just escaped me for a second. No, the ceiling was still solid rock, painted in an elegant recreation of the time the Diamond Dogs tribe first came toward the Princess. Man, those were some long and tedious negotiations. Luckily for everyone, in 231 after Unification, Chancellor Smooth Transition came up with the Surface and Underground Accord.

So that was probably why there were tunnels depicted on the ceiling, and in those tunnels a few hundred billions living things. No, not on the painting itself, but on the surface. On the rock, if someone were to lean in closer, just a little closer, and look, with precision beyond any other living creature, they would see the world of the infinitely small abound. From what I could tell, the acidithiobacillus ferrooxidans in there was slowly taking over the world.

With a disheartened pout, I fell back on the shelf. Conflict was everywhere. Except here, between those two ponies that were just talking about some unimportant thing like the trade of a product I’ve forgotten the name of.

Was this all my new life would amount to? Interminable meetings after interminable meetings after witty banter with a jackass prince?

Well, my suffering for this one meeting might be soon coming to an end, for Silk Trade finally reacted.

“Hmmm,” she ‘hmmm’ed thoughtfully, casting her eyes over some strange scribbling that was possibly written words. “Yes, yes, I see my complaints were taken at heart here.”

With an exaggerated motion, she picked a quill and held a hoof to her heart. Then, a spotlight appeared out of nowhere to shine light upon her tragically posed form. To help with the ambiance, Lisa Lizard, that talented revenant from the depths of my mind, took out a very small violin.

Silk Trade smirked at Blue Prince of Blood, and spoke with a bleeding heart – which logically meant she had internal damage. “After the new law had come to pass, it was simply impossible for my family to keep its business afloat without appropriate new deals. It would have been ruinous to follow an accord that was created when the situation was still under much better control. This was necessary to protect my family name… You understand, don't you?”

The very instant Silk Something had turned the question on him however, Lisa exploded in a very untragic display of violin.

In a flagrantly sincere show of compassion, Silk Trade then placed her hoof over her mouth to not hide a smile. “Oh, my apologies, perhaps not yet.”

Blueblood’s magic flickered. The inkpot he had been taking out of his desk fell flat just next to the scroll.

Yet, he did not apologize for his blunder, the bastard. He just kept a tight smile on his face. “I assure you that I am well aware of the necessity of those new deals, Lady Silk Trade. As you have said, I took your criticisms to heart and was able to smooth over a few of the bumps that come with new legislation. The Royal Crown would of course not want to put the fortunes of its greatest noble families in danger with silly things like Equitable Treatment laws.”

“How privileged do those peasants want to be,” she sighed a long suffering sigh and applied the quill to the paper. “Next thing they want, I will be forced to sell my family's ancestral lands.”

“It would be a great tragedy if the House Tussah were to lose its tertiary home, indeed,” Blueblood agreed stiffly.

The mare seemed to seize on what little compassion he had. “You understand, don't you? The trouble of wondering if your legacy will continue after you. To see if the family name will go on after you, yourself, are too old and beaten by the hardships to live. There is always one thing needed.”

Despite a subtle impulse of backing away, Blueblood only nodded, though his tone reminded me of somepony doing an eyeroll. “Of course, which is why one must make sure that such ancestries are compatible.”

“Of course, of course,” she said condescendingly, placing the quill on the paper, though without writing her signature yet. “It is so important to find a good mate, otherwise the foals will be weak and unworthy of their titles.”

There was a moment of silence, a pause during which I started to see where she was going with that. No way…

“Surely, you must have given it thought,” she added with a knowing tone. “Why, I have heard many a mare declaring they would elevate themselves to such high ranks.”

Blueblood smoothly transitioned away from that topic, regaining full use of the hoof she had seized. “Most of those mares would be unable to do so in the first place, or come from families trying to reclaim lost wealth. Hardly fitting mothers.”

“Of course.” Silk Trade agreed a tad too quickly for me. “The ability to nurture an acceptable heir is much too precious to overlook. I would know. My first daughter, Spinning Wheel, has only had the best tutors to refine her mind, and my example to follow as a noble lady. And my son, Mulberry, is already growing up to be a great fencer. Why, a foal you might have had, hypothetically of course, would have been the perfect companion for them.”

Blueblood’s eyes grew steely. However, the lady was too into her boasting to realize it.

“Had you sired an heir…”

A voice from above startled her out of it. My voice, a mixture of old age and youth, feminine and masculine, smooth and raspy and worry, politely interrupted. “Excuse me.”

With something resembling grace, I swooped down from my perch and landed just next to the negotiation table. Probably not all that gracefully though, ‘cause she yelped at the sight. Sheepish, I gave her a wide smile to apologize.

For some reason, Lady Silk Trade had grown pale.

Blueblood spoke from behind me, at the end of his patience. “Do you have a question, Havoc?”

Boy, did I have one…

Closing in on the kind middle-aged mare, I grinned. “Yup. I do have a little question.”

“Y-yes?" she stuttered, leaning back into her seat.

Savoring the moment, I looked at them both, one at a time ‘cause my eyes weren’t that good, and traced a little heart in the air. “Are you trying to seduce Blueblood?”

Things went still. The air stopped moving, nopony breathed even a little bit, and Miss Trade’s fur had turned pure white.

Then, Blueblood’s reasonable voice cut through the silence. “Not at all, Honest. Lady Silk Trade is happily married to a wonderful stallion whom I respect immensely.”

Indignant, I turned toward him, only to see that he had an easy smile on his face, and twitches on the corner of his mouth made him seem like he was just barely not rolling on the floor laughing.

Oh no, he would not get out of it so easily! “But she was talking all about how she's got a wonderful family life,” I protested.

And pointed a claw straight at her. “And that she's a good matriarch.”

But since that was not enough for the prince, I went on, “And that you need to find a great mare to marry and have an heir. Like her.”

With a fraternal nudge, I incensed the poor starstruck mare to nod. “See?”

Satisfied, I then crossed my forelegs over my chest, having demonstrate my point with impeccable logic.

Though, I might have been too convincing, for Silk Trade suddenly protested to avoid coming off as hitting on Blueblood too strongly. “That is preposterous! I-I would never marry the prince!”

Suddenly suspicious, I narrowed my eyes at her and circled around her very beautiful chair. “Huh, you wouldn't? But he is so dreamy. I hate his guts, but he's dreamy. As in, panty exploding dreamy. So what's wrong with him?"

But, Blueblood, the bastard, wouldn’t let her get over her stage fright and tried to ‘smooth’ things over. The nerve! “I believe it lies in the fact that she is already married.”

Weakly raising a hoof, the poor mare shook her head to contradict him.

“It was a very sudden question. It is only natural for ponies to be caught off guard by something like that.”

“Nonsense!” I shouted, and made my way up to Blueblood’s own seat. Looking Silk Trade deep in the eyes, I closed my claws over the prince’s chin and lifted his head to show off his profile. “Look at this muscled bound stallion. Look, and tell me he isn’t the most sensual thing since Celestia herself! Imagine him looking at you with desire and asking you to be his for a night of passionate love!”

Silk Trade went beet red. Finally, a breakthrough! Now, all that’s left is to – huh?

A shiny blue cloud pulled on my leg. And my shoulder. And my entire body. The tingling sensation spread all over, but without the power to make me laugh. How could I when Blueblood was denying me and making me float away from his dreamy chin?

“Thank you, Havoc, but that's enough.”

My jaw dropped at the injustice at hooves here. “But she didn't even say anything!”

As if motivated by my encouragements, Lady Silk Trade growled, red in the face, “P-Prince Blueblood! This is all extremely inappropriate!” She huffed, closing her clothes over her body. “I... I came here to sign a deal... N-not listen to such assumptions about private matters!”

Awww, I thought, my ears drooping down. Too strong.

“And for that I apologize, no one is questioning your loyalty to your husband,” he said those last words with a glare in my direction.

I scoffed. So did the ungrateful smitten mare.

“Let us simply sign this.”

And as she said, she did, frowning all the while her quill scribbled on the parchment. When a graceful and strangely alluring signature had been placed on the bottom of the agreement, she passed it back to Blueblood, who hurriedly put it away in a drawer of his desk.

“I wish you a good day, Prince,” she said with one last glare in our general direction.

A few more seconds and she was far gone. We heard her voice go through the dimensional barrier of the wall, and it sounded somewhat hysterical.

Damn Blueblood and his standards.

“Sooo,” I said slowly, “that went well.”

“Not as good as I had hoped...” my handler sighed. “Next time, please refrain from commenting on a perceived crush during a business meeting...”

“But she kept making those comments, it was so obvious!”

He shook his head once, looking at the wooden door as if it would summon back the noble lady. “She wasn't hitting on me, she was implying that I was doing my family a disservice by remaining unwed.”

Too unbelievable. He was doing a great service to the world by not reproducing, in my humble insane opinion. “Naaaah, she was definitely about to kiss you.”

His frown deepened, and his voice came out sharper than before. “Even if she had been, it was still inappropriate to mention it, at least in a business setting. Much more important decisions than my love life must take place in here, do you understand?”

“So why did she mention it? Is there like two rules for two ponies? T'was appropriate for her to say?”

For some reason, Blueblood’s eyes widened as he looked at me. He seemed almost… shocked, and I noticed that his ears twitched.

“She…” He coughed, seemingly regaining his composure. “She said it because she's a busybody who likes to try and make me uncomfortable to try and get a better deal. It never works, and no, it's not appropriate for her to mention either.”

I blinked.

“So why'd you apologize then?”

His lips pursed as if he’d bitten a bitter lemon. “Because her family has a near complete monopoly on the silk trade. We could go with someone else... but it is a very good idea not to offend her. Why she feels that she can offend me I don't know.”

I could not help but groan, then climb the window shill while contemplating a daring jump into the unknown. “Ah, politics?” Barely suppressing a whimper, I frowned at the magnificent city of Canterlot. “I would have thought ponies were gentler than that."

A sigh echoed my melancholy. “If only... but ponies are far from gentle, Havoc.”

Knowing a lie when I heard one, I twisted as does a top, practicing my imitation of my favorite pony, and becoming one with the floor. When that tidbit was complete, I picked one of his hoof in my own and lifted it in clear display. “But look at this cutesy hoof, Blueblood. You’re not going to puncture anything with it. And don’t get me started on your teeth. They're flat!”

Satisfied with my argument, I grinned and let go of his leg. “So how are you not gentle?”

Blueblood left eyebrow went up. “Hooves can do damage, an earth pony soldier can shatter boulders with a single kick. Pegasi can create tornadoes and make lightning strike others. And even the most basic of unicorn spells, levitation, can hurl ponies off cliffs or into sharp objects...”

He paused, giving my mind ample time to come up with a few images. They were rather bloody, and, all in all, somewhat scary. Thus, discreetly, I ran my tongue over my lips.

“And there are crueler things than that,” Blueblood’s eyes darted to the window. “Politics are not nice, no matter what race you're from.”

“No matter the race?” I perked up. “So, like, dragons and minotaurs have politics? And it’s as nasty as pony politics?”

“Yes,” he said with absolute certainty. No hesitation in that stallion.

The tip of my claws ran over the fur of my chin. “So are there draconicorn politics?”

“I'm afraid not.” He shook his head, speaking a bit more clearly. “You're the only one of your kind known to exist, thank Celestia.”

Grinning, I let out a sinister chuckle. “Thus, I make the rules for the species. Got it. My tyranny will know no bounds!”

“I’m sure it will give shivers to all those other draconicorns under your rule,” he deadpanned, turning to look at his papers.

Ah, the fool did not know what I was capable of. First, prisons would be destroyed, the statues would be harmonized, then there would be ritualistic dancing to give our offering to the inventor of pudding. After that, the world would fall on its knees, or circumferential axis, or heck, its orbital gravity. I wasn’t picky. Yes… YES! A perfect plan!

“Havoc, do you mind not laughing like that? It creates a very unsettling atmosphere for me to work in.”

“Awww, but I’m so good at it!” I whined.

“Well, stop it.” He stamped something on a puddle of hot wax, then gently blew on it. “Once I am finished with this paperwork, we will be doing a quick tour of the palace. I would rather make sure you don’t get lost on a daily basis. After all, I must only keep you within eyesight within the castle.”

“Huh, so if I take your eyes, I can go anywhere?”

Blueblood’s head snapped at me, his whole body suddenly tense. His muscles all rolled under his coat, and he quickly glanced at the door. “No… That is not what it means at all,” he growled, but I noticed a faint weakness in his tone. “It means that you must stay in the same room as me, with the sole exception of private matters, whether on your part or mine. However, you do not need to be within my immediate vicinity.”

“But I’ll get lost!” I shouted with horror. “I’ll end up outside the castle without meaning to!”

Letting out a sigh of relief, he returned to his papers. “That's what guards are for.”

Oh, he just didn’t get it, did he?! “I don't even know if I would notice!”

A pile of scrolls stopped in midair, held by his blue magic. “...You wouldn't notice that you were outside the palace?”

“The guards.” I rolled my eyes at him. How could one be so oblivious? “Like, how am I supposed to know they're there?"

“You'll know, they will not remain quiet.”

An evil idea struck me. Curling up, I clapped my hoof and my paw together, all the while looking for a way to get a record company to get their material in the same room as me. “I seeeeee...”

Blueblood’s eyes narrowed on me. “We both get in trouble if you go too far outside the distance.”

I giggled. “Is that dissuasive or persuasive?"

“Luna will hear about it.”

My heart sank in my chest, and all desires to laugh were gone in that same breath.

“Luna.”

Shaking, I looked down on the floor, trying to ignore my griffon leg for a second. It was one of the unnatural parts of me. The… err… chaotic parts, that made me so akin to a monster. The one that was reflected in that hard, blue gaze. It might as well have been shouted at me.

“She loves me, doesn't she?” I croaked. “After I declared my love to her, she forgave me... I mean, we talked, I explained, apologized and she stopped hating me, r-right?”

Blueblood was without pity. “I'm fairly sure that never happened.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how sure?"

“Havoc, it did not happen,” he said sternly. “Luna has never approached you directly after your arrest. She was the judge of your trial, she had to be as impartial as possible and not let her sentiments get in the way of the verdict. If she had… I suspect it would have been a great deal direr for you.”

With that, with the confirmation that my dreams were going up in smoke, I gently lowered myself to the ground. Despite my best effort, I whimpered. “There goes my place as a New Lunar Republic general...”

Without enthusiasm, I ran a claw over the floor, humming that glorious soundtrack.

“...Luna, Republic?” Blueblood slowly repeated my words, and didn’t even get it right!

“You wouldn't understand!” I sobbed.

An awkward hoof patted my shoulder, with all the effect of an ant fighting an elephant. My pain was so much greater than that stupid analogy!
“T-there's this epic thing going on in-between the loyalists and the rebels, and the two have really great combat music, and you kinda have to be one or the other or find the whole deal stupid!”

“...What?”

“Didn't I tell you you wouldn't understand?!” I wailed, hoping that someone cool like Madame Bucket would come to console me. Alas, she was DEAAAAAD! “Nopony will ever understand!”

“Well, you're not explaining very well,” Blueblood growled in annoyance.

Something clicked in my head. Just for a second. The choking sensation around my throat died out, and the fog in my mind cleared out. Then came the fire.

Standing up, glaring, I bared my fangs. “The important thing is that my idol hates my guts! There! Was that easier for you?!"

The words rang shrill, stretching out in the last dregs of silence between us. Blueblood’s ears had flattened on top of his head, and he had winced. My breathing was labored.

It had all gone into that shout, I felt spend, each of my limbs almost dragging into the ground.

Prince Blueballs grimaced, his tail flicking. “Why don't we go get something to eat?”

“Yeah… okay…” I said without energy.

Some brave soul forced a handkerchief on my face, after the puddle of drool on the ground had unfortunately caused somepony to slip. Boy, had that been an awkward thing. Even more awkward when it had taken three tries and a slap on my rump to get me out of my daze.

The Royal Kitchen was beautiful!

Oh, how to describe it, other than the place where artisans met the most sublime tools in a dance of angels over a fiery hell? Three cooks to the dish washing station under the sky, seven to the prepping in their halls of stone, nine to the veggie cooks, so corruptible and tempted by power, and one head chef to rule them all, bring them together and in the darkness, bind them.

And it was on that march of higher beings that Blueblood and I had intruded. I would be almost ashamed, if not for the growing beast in my guts calling for blood and flesh to be fed with. Celestia, the smells in this place…

I sighed like a schoolfilly in love.

Blueblood shot me a bizarre look, one eyebrow higher than the other, as he turned from his conversation with the Lord of the Kitchen.

“Chef Ram’s Head has agreed to cook an extra meal for the two of us. He knows my taste, but not yours. So, how do you want your meat?”

I opened my mouth, already fantasizing about the bloo-

“Still breathing is not an option,” Blueblood added quickly.

Pouting, I rolled my eyes and instead tried to stay positive. My tongue was just working overtime in order to taste all that delicious scent in the air. Oh, just the smell of the raw meat in the back of the kitchen was making me shiver! “Can they do raw? Or blue? Or tartare?”

“All of the above. But blue is not me,” he said with quite a bit of savviness.

“Really? I thought for a sec it was named after you.” I put my claw to my chin and narrowed my eyes at him. “Like, you do eat meat, right?”

“....When it is impolite to refuse, yes, I do.” He nodded, his gaze lost in a memory for a split second before he shook his head and went back to me. “However a pony’s digestive system is not made for meat. Blue meat implies that it has a sear on the outside but that's it. It's a cold steak.”

Just then, while Blue-the-evil-temptress listed off the definition of heaven, I felt something stir inside of me. Something bestial…

“Raw meat is not generally served by the Royal Kitchen. Unless you are indeed speaking of a steak tartare, which is raw meat with an appropriate mix of vegetables and spice to heighten up the flavor.”

A shiver of sheer desire inched its way over my spine. Oh, oh no, stop talking, vile serpent of Eden!

“Of course, Chef Ram’s Head has mastered all those techniques and many more over his years as a cook. Every griffon ambassador we have had over the years has, however reluctantly, said that the meat was always claw-licking good. Why, I remember Geralder, a particularly picky eater who just gave away his dignity in front of his marinated pork ribs–”

The threshold was walked over by his seductive words, and the dam burst. In one magnificent, ears-splitting loud roar, the kitchen froze over. It was not just a simple roar, but the cry of a hungry beast a thousand miles long, with fangs sharper than the finest blade, with a stomach larger than Canterlot itself, with anger at being unfed and all the intent to sate this terrible emptiness in its guts. One would have likened it to a manticore or a hydra, to a dragon elder of its line or the great serpent swimming under the sea and waiting the death of the gods. One still would have given it no equal, and prayed for the survival of the world.

A long silence followed, oppressive and covering them all in sweat and fear. The cry still rang to their ears, would keep them awake for long nights in the dark.

Sheepish, I moved my paw to my belly and scratched it, feeling heat all over my face at the dozens stares I was getting. At the very least, the many that had fainted could not see how embarrassed I was.

“Sorry,” I said, “my stomach growled.”

“What did you want to eat?” Blueblood asked with a voice so high pitched it sounded like a filly.

Shrugging, I gave a winning smile to the head chef. “One of each?”

With any luck… It is kind of unreasonable, of course…

“ONE OF EACH MEAT DISHES WE HAVE!” Chef Ram’s Head bellowed with a voice that could have cowered Discord. “EXPRESS!”

They ran like the wind and started cooking at a speed beyond the limits of mere mortal. I knew then, that Rainbow Dash’s Sonic Rainboom was the stuff of legends for pegasi, but this was what earth pony athletes dreamt of.

This admiration of their zeal of mine was however cut short when a bout of telekinesis yanked me by the neck to drag me over. Judging by the speed we were going at, Blueblood had been inspired by their incredible dedication and generosity.

I know, Blueblood, I know, I thought toward the snobbish guy. Hay, even he could have his nice moments. Even if they involved pulling me by the neck to show me the way to a private dining hall.

Strangely, as we entered the small adjacent room, we heard the throbbing hoofsteps of a dozen ponies rushing to the kitchen. Added to that the clank of metals and the loud military commands, and there was one big mystery for me to ponder.

Blueblood, on the other hoof, merely kept his head up high, pretending his hoof wasn’t shaking against the table and making his richly decorated goblet jump on the white tablecloth.

Oh well, his loss. I would figure it out by myself, once lunch was over. Because still my nostrils tingled with the smell of spice and blood and it was making my tail swish back and forth. “The kitchen ponies are all really nice!”

“They…” Blueblood’s voice cracked, prompting him to pat his barrel and clear his throat. “They are. I’ve talked to them many times before for similar emergencies and they were always accommodating.”

He broke into a rare smile, eying the Royal Kitchen with something similar to… fondness.

He didn’t say anything else, but I noticed his goblet had stopped dancing.

Shrugging, I stretched myself into a better position, lying on my stomach across the few cushions laid by the table. It was rather comfortable, if I was allowed to judge, for the touch against my fur-covered body was light and so much better than my prison cell. Damn that wooden plank for a bed I had had to use.

Why hadn’t they told me I only had one mattress? I wasn’t that good with numbers.

Ah, but what is done is done by another, and only a god can do better or change the course of time… Maybe. Discord had taught me this one. Maybe. Or a friend I had thought up during my time as a lawn ornament. Why, I had gotten a good number of skills fully designated to help kill time. Humming was my choice for this pre-meal moment. And with enough talent to get Blueblood to stare. Score for me!

But all of that was insignificant in comparison to the moment a dying pony entered the room, panting, with a tray of meat dishes in one hoof. White as a sheet, sweating bullets like a frog in the rain, the earth pony teenager trotted slowly toward my seat. In one swoop motion, he collapsed, falling on a lavish blue cushion and dropping the plates in front of me.

I needed no other signal.

I feasted on those fallen corpses and their flavor enhancers with the ferocity of a pack of timberwolves. And then some. Within, the monster started to drown in a sea of half-digested pieces of meat, delicious, sweet, perfectly cooked, juicy meat.

Besides me, the colt was still trying to catch his breath after his valiant sacrifice. “Just… just a few more minutes, Blueblood.”

In the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the prince calmly rising his goblet to his lips and replying with a benign tone, “Take your time, Fast Chop.”

Had I not been in delicious-gasm-tastic foodville, I might have been taken aback. But I was, so I lunged unto a particularly arrogant rack of ribs. “Betcha too chicken to try and eat me,” it said.

“I’ll show you!” I yelled and sank my fangs into the flesh, crushing everything under my jaws.

And the battle began anew between the forces of evil and madness. Only one would win, the other would be dead, and since the meat was already dead, I had a slight chance of victory. Listening only to my courage, I swallowed the meatloaf and the shish kebabs at the same time, falling over on my back.

After that, it was kind of a haze of red and delights.

“…I will hazard the guess that you liked it,” said somepony pompous.

Blinking rapidly, I looked up, rubbing at the blood on my everywhere. Blueblood had a handkerchief wrapped around his neck and a fork half-levitated to his mouth. And half his body looked red to me.

“Yeah, I loved it. Did I win?”

Blueblood, because he was indifferent to the fate of the world, only said, “If I knew what you are talking about in the slightest, I would be able to answer you.”

“Nevermind.” I sat up, burping loudly. “Pretty sure that was the last I’ll see of my enemy.”

“Charming,” Blueblood said, scrunching up his nose. “You are truly an example of manners and–”

He stopped, suddenly looking behind me.

Before I could check it out myself, a pegasus mare ran past me and kneeled before him.

“My Prince. Forgive me for the interruption, but it is an emergency.”

Without protesting, the prince’s magic wrapped around his collar and untied the handkerchief. It floated away to the table, over his plate in what looked to me like a surrender of his meal. “It's alright, Quill, we were just finished.”

Nailed it.

For a second, the mare hesitated, then glanced at me. As a good mutant gentlecolt, I waved and smiled as kindly as possible. It startled her.

“Don't mind him,” Blueblood said, “focus on me.”

“Yes, my Prince.” She nodded and unfolded her right wing. At the tip, a scroll of sort hung. “The Nightmare's Foals have heard of our operation and barricaded themselves in their headquarters.”

She paused, letting the prince’s magic catch the missive and unroll it in front of his eyes. Then, obeying some sort of signal I could not see, she spoke up again.

“With at least a dozen hostages.”

The words fell heavily into the room, and completely changed the dynamic of what was happening.

And little me? Not a clue. My mind came up with a blank.

Everything sort of… tumbled down in rapid fire.

“Where?” asked Blueblood.

“Downtown Canterlot, the building previously used by the Heavy Claw gang.”

A single sigh, then… “Of course it would be that one...”

For some reason, the pegasus looked away. “The Guard is gathered outside the building, but don't want to risk attacking without a mean of quickly neutralizing the threat to the hostages. The commander has requested your immediate help.”

“I figured as much...”

He stood up quickly, throwing the silverware on the table with a resounding ‘cliiing’.

“Thank you, Quill. Is there anything else?”

The mare shook her head quickly.

“Excellent.” The prince turned back to me. “Come, Havoc, it's time to work. We have a hostage situation to defuse.”

On those words, Blueblood started galloping toward the doors, and I could only follow with the most dumbfounded of looks on my face.

…Huh?

Observatory Journal, by Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood.

Entry # 2

Despite my conviction that he is in fact quite mad, Havoc has shown that he at least is able to observe and read emotional cues. I believe it is when it comes to interpreting this information that the process becomes shambled. There might be something to do with him yet.

However, a much greater control of his mouth will be necessary before anything even resembling diplomacy can be attempted again. For the moment, I will redirect my tasks to account for this. More observations will be needed to truly find the right way to handle him.

P.S. Keep Havoc well-fed at all times. Always.

…Celestia’s beard… I’ll never be able to sleep again.

Heroes and Heretics

Ah yes, that time…

Equestria is a nice place, you know? Oh yes, I can tell you that. Compared to the Ginnungagap or Tartarus, this place is sweet candy. Sweet, luscious, delish cotton candy. It’s pink and fluffy and…

Ginnungagap. Gin-nun-ga-gap. Like gin drunken by a nun that gagged and went for a nap. Ginnungagap.

There you go, Emerald. You got it. I’m sure your dad will be proud of you when you tell him.

So, huh, what was I saying? Oh! I know, the time where I learned that cotton candy MIGHT sometimes, just maybe, have bitter or sour parts. The seller refused to refund me after I had thrown up the whole thing. Crazy, right?

--

Now, there were words to describe what was going on, what I was feeling. ‘Baffled’ would be a great one. Its similarities to waffles would also make it a much more pleasant state of mind to be in. Toasted and lightly crusted with molten butter.

So why in the name of buggeration was I not actually pleased? For one, I was running behind Prince Blueballs himself while we navigated the labyrinth that was the castle. I was staring ahead, which, in this specific case, meant staring at his butt.

Yet I could not shake this impression of disgust seeping through my coat. It was the weirdest thing ever. I put that in a drawer in a corner of my mind and stored it back for later usages.

For now, epic chase scene through the castle. We went through the ballroom, the long hallway, the dining room, the guards’ meeting room, the second set of hallways, the staircases to the treasure room, the guards’ barrack, the maids’ laundry room – indignant terrified screeches ensued –, the throne room, another set of hallways, and finally someplace that looked like a place that was part of a castle.

On a turn of a dime, literally in my case – lucky bit! –, Blueberry-Royal-Muffin went behind a column.

He did something with his horn, I couldn’t see what, and a whole section of the wall disappeared, leaving a wide opening into an unlit passage. Its path led in a downward spiral toward the blinding darkness of the earth.

Blueblood entered with a scowl on his face, his muzzle scrunched up with wrinkles. “Havoc, follow me, and if you would be so sane as not to trip, it would be perfect.”

Me, not sane enough?! Well, I could not very well let that insult go, thus I followed inside the secret passage at full speed, running after that arrogant unicorn. I’d show him who was insane!

With one gracious swoop, I launched myself into the dark opening.

As it turned out, because it was dark, I couldn’t see very well, and I could not land entirely on instinct. With a loud ‘thud’, my front legs slipped from under me, too much momentum involved, and I fell face first against something that felt like stone. Then, as the pain exploded through my poor abused forehead, the rest of my body continued on its tragic trajectory and I ended up with a pretty big pain in the back and rump too.

New constellations appeared out of nowhere, as I could now see stars and they were all very pretty, but oh Discord, my head hurt. Like I had ran headfirst into a wall.

Though maybe it wouldn’t be half as bad if a faint blue light wasn’t shining directly in my eyes!

Blueblood’s gaze was turned onto me, one of his eyebrow raised higher than the other, no trace of amusement on his face, and wrinkles across his scrunched up nose. And, to be Honest, which I was, he wasn’t the only one bothered.

A putrid smell permeated the air, and sniffing, I turned to the only possible culprit. “...What did you eat again?”

His eyes twitched. For some obscure reason, I thought he might be the slightest bit exasperated. “It's not me, it's the sewers. That’s where we’re going.”

What an obvious cover-up, I thought as I rolled my eyes and stood. Even if I could hear the sound of liquid running and a slight echo on the other side of that stony door, that meant nothing. I could easily be hallucinating that.

Still, because he couldn’t read between the lines if he tried, Blueblood started talking about irrelevant stuff, all the while trotting down the spiral leading into the smelly bowels of the earth. “I suppose now would be a good time to tell you what we're doing.”

“That’s up to you. I don’t mind improvising.” I shrugged. “I’m sure whatever it is out there, I could totally convince them to turn to a life of honest potato culture with my sheer charisma. Believe it!”

“I will carefully not answer to that…” Blueblood said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I – and a select few others – am part of a special infiltration branch of the royal guard. It is my duty as a prince to be in the service, and this is what I chose to do. So, now we are going to go through the sewers and rescue some innocent ponies from some very bad ponies.”

There was a pause.

“Nah. I mean, no way!” I said, quickly waving my front legs in front of my face. “Why would you do that? You, Blueblood? No way. You sound and generally act like the prissiest thing in town. And this is a big town. Why would you do anything that does not relate to snobbism and cake?”

I might have touched a sensitive chord in him, because his back tensed and his next step was more like a stomp.

“Because it's my duty as a prince,” he said and puffed out his chest, giving me a stern glare. “Those ponies are as much my responsibility as they are the Princesses’. I do not shirk my duties.”

Seeing the seriousness written all over his face, there was only one thought in my mind: ‘What’s a shirk?’

He did not answer to my thoughts. He just rose his head a bit higher. “This is part of my responsibilities.”

“…Wait…” I said slowly.

I could feel an idea build up at the back of my mind. It would definitely be really understanding and really smart, so I had to be ready and waiting for it to come to me. My mental ‘me’ crouched down in the mental void of my brain and turned his careful mental eyes over the soon-to-be brilliance.

“WAIT!” I shouted, grabbing Blueblood by the tail.

He yelped, making a sound like a pig calling a boar fat. His legs reared up and bucked, almost hitting me straight in the jaw, while he skipped a few paces ahead.

“What are you on about now?!”

“SSSSSSSSSSSS.” I hissed, rolling the sound off my long serpentine tongue. “Plural. Doesn’t that imply you have others? Like more than one?”

Oh yes, his eyes definitely twitched a lot.

“Yes, it does,” he said slowly, as if talking to a very young foal. “Because I do have other duties, including those of a diplomats.”

“Oh! Like with Silk Trade?”

“Yes, like that and with other dignitaries.” He resumed his walk, his breathing returning to normal. Like an almost reasonable pony, Blueblood was putting my outburst behind him. “Most importantly however… the job of the secondary royal family is to act as a failsafe. If Celestia – or now Luna – makes a horrible, horrible decision, and believe me, they have…”

“I don't believe you,” I replied on the spot.

“…I will be the scapegoat.”

A strange yet perfectly logical idea came to me. “So they will turn you into a goat.”

I tried to see it in my mind, taking the horn on his forehead and turning it into two, then with the power of photoshop putting them on both sides of his head. For good measure, I mentally stretched the fur on his chin, into a goatee. I mean, if there was one valid reason to ever have a goatee, to be a goat would have to be it.

“Why… are you snickering?” the blonde goat asked slowly.

Grinning, I stretched my wings and jumped over the void, hovering see him from all the angles. “It might be an improvement, you know? You should ask them to turn you into a goat.”

He sighed. “No, but why am I surprised? Scapegoat, Havoc. It means that I will take all the blame for whatever they did. All of it. And it will forever be written down in history as my fault, like a smear on all my descendants.”

That… sounded bad actually. It wasn’t fun to imagine, but it was kind of easy. Like, a big ancient scroll, dusty and brown from age, with lines and lines and lines all representing a pony’s whole life each. And then, at a random point, somepony else accidentally spilled an inkpot over the scroll. Every name drowned out in black, in the mistake of one unrelated other. But nopony would know that.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said humbly. “I’ll tell your descendants why you became a goat, don’t worry.”

“Oh for goat’s sake!” He growled and looked ready for more, only for his eyes to suddenly widen and for his face to color red. He looked almost traumatized and his hoof hesitated over his mouth.

Jos-Jos Elevenneton, the voice of reason, muttered near his ears and mine ‘whoops, bad influence there’.

Finally, Blueblood gathered his wits and gave me a withering glare. “Look… forget the goat …I-it’s almost inevitable that I will have all my accomplishments drowned out by one of my aunts’ mistakes. So why not make things more believable while I can?”

Pondering the question, I placed a claw to my chin. “I dunno,” I said, narrowing my eyes on him. “Sure, being a convincing actor at merely pretending to be a total asshole is cool, but there is the part where it means you act like an asshole.”

His ear twitched. “Oh? Why would I bother showing a good face to the public when my true purpose is nothing higher than somepony to pin the blame on?” He pushed on a stony lock almost viciously then, throwing it off the door with enough strength to dent the wall on the other side. “Especially when the public just wants things from me, like money,” he said, then entered the newly opened way into the sewers.

I followed him into the darkness, giggling while trotting on a small unlit passage. “Yeah, that's stupid. What's the point of having money?”

“Especially when you have more than enough,” he added, a sneer appearing on his muzzle.

“Yeah. Glad there are no poor ponies around,” I said, happily trotting on the sidewalk of the sewers.

His snort then was not amused so much as it was dismissive and frankly disgusted. “I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about mares and stallions who want to cozy up to me for no other reason than that I'm rich and a prince.”

“Ooooooooh, I see.” I grinned, quite happy with how this was turning out. With a couple of nudge, I made my approval known. “So you cozy up the poor ponies instead?”

For some reason, it made his voice sound strangled. “...What?”

Figuring out he was just being modest, I proceeded to act as nonchalant as possible. To help him feel better. “Yeah, I mean, since you don't like ponies that want to get in your good graces for the money they don't need, and you complain about THAT... You're helping ponies that actually need it instead, right?”

His trot slowed down, until he was almost standing still. “…O-of course, that's… part of what we're doing now.”

“Wow, you don’t know how relieved I am to hear that. I was worried you were just a privileged whiner. Like, you don't just sit there and use as much money as you want without a thought for the poor. That’s so nice of you.” Another idea hit me, and I perked up. “Hey, can we go to a food giveaway thing? I wanna meet more ponies.”

Seeing as he kept silent, I grinned even more widely, a nice bubbly happiness coming to me at the thought of all that community service we would be doing. “T'would be fun to help for once. I… don’t really get to help often, it’s more like catastrophes after catastrophes with me…”

Blueblood smiled then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was more of a sad smile. The poor stallion could be even more humble than I imagined.

“…Sure, we can do that.” His gaze strangely focused ahead without a single motion toward me. “M-my whole job is to help ponies, Havoc. You’ll get your chance.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He sighed. “There are some very, very bad ponies who take advantage of other ponies, especially poor ones. I’m afraid we will have plenty of occasions to help. The things I’ve seen…”

I was nonplussed, his words starting to sink in. “There are bad ponies?”

Blueblood spent a second watching the crossroad we were at, his brows furrowed juuuuuust a little, before taking a turn right. “Yes. There are ponies who want to enslave other ponies, there are ponies who rape other ponies, there are ponies that kill other ponies for the fun of it.”

…Nope. Nopenopenopenope, Equestria isn’t like that! Sugarbowl! My little pony, my little pony aahaaaahaaaaa! ~

My breathing sped up, coming out fast and shallow and hot. Ashes mixed with every exhalation, as I tried to grasp at the theme song with my claws, but it faded like a ghost every time. Every time. Every… Nope, little pony. AAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAA!

Nope, wasn’t seeing, nope, hahahahhahhhhaaaaaaaaaaaa, that wasn’t a mare beating up a foal, nopety nope, not telling her child they were worthless, blablabla. Consensual sexual encounter, definitely, and everypony knew that you could walk away from a flesh wound like a slit throat. I used to wonder what friendship could be… Low growls in the guts, the taste of blood alluring over my tongue… Until you all shared its magic with me!

“We’re sorry,” said two guards, “It’s about your daughter.”

My right front leg gave out under me.

Twin trails of dark gray smoke rose from my nostrils, growing in thickness with the burning heat spreading through my barrel. I couldn’t see straight, I couldn’t, there was red and black and twitches and glitches all over. I couldn’t see well, through the veil of violence, through the pulsing beat of my heart and the murderous fury.

“There are ponies like that?” I said with a single voice.

Strange shadows danced over the walls, slipping whispers to our ears. One even said a joke, which made me choke and spew out a few flames. But even that couldn’t affect my mood. The same echoing compassionate sentence came and came again. “It’s about your daughter. ”

A dam within burst.

Blueblood’s neck was held under my claws. “That's not right…” My voices were confused and angry together, “…at all. Not, Blueblood, what the fuck?! Not right, not rightrightright!”

Gasping, his tone just above a whisper, trembling, shaking, whimpering, “N-no… it's not. That's why we have to stop them. Havoc, no time to lose here.”

I let go with a lopsided smile. “Oki doki loki.”

“Havoc,” he started, massaging his throat, his pupils still smaller than usual. “I'm going to cast an illusion spell on us, so that the bad ponies won't be able to tell that it's us. That way their friends can't come looking for us to hurt us. So, it’s important.” He paused mid-motion, his horn halfway pointed toward me. “…Please don’t react badly.”

I really wanted to reply then, but my lips were twitching so badly anything I said came out as a distorted growl. My sight was still very jumpy, and might or might not be slowly turning red.

“We are going to help lots of ponies!” I heard somepony say. “So, they can go home safe and sound, okay?”

Home, that sounded nice.

With a pop, things snapped back to normal, and I was smiling innocently at a sweating Blueblood. “So, spell?”

His head slowly inched up and down at that, the glow of his magic spreading across both our coats. It tingled, like wind over my fur and my mane that didn’t move. And all sorts of little explosions happened over my body as the colors changed.

I stared in curiosity at the yellow hooves in front of me. Trying to move my claws just made the left hoof tilt one way or another. That made no sense. I could feel the fangs in my mouth still and I was pretty sure – what was that tuff of blue mane at the top of my head?

“Havoc, focus,” I heard, but the unicorn I saw then was two shades of burgundy red, no trace of royalty anywhere. He was even sorta… scrawny.

I blinked. “Who are you?”

“I'm still Prince Blueblood.”

My eyes narrowed. I smelled a deception here. “Are you sure?”

“I told you that they wouldn't be able to recognize us, remember?”

“You did say it. Or at least Blueblood did.”

“I am very sure I am still him,” the stranger said, his horn shining long enough to make Blueblood’s image blink over him.

Not content with that, he turned around, his tail slapping the tip of my muzzle in annoyance. His steps were quick and I had to follow or else risk losing that maybe-Blueblood.

“At any rate, there are twelve hostages in an old building. We are going to come up through the sewers and get them out so the royal guard can break down the doors without fear of harming the innocents. I've been in the building many times before, I know the layout perfectly.”

My brain was screeching, jolting while some invisible hand tried to cram all that inside. “Huuuuh, okay, and where are the hostages?”

“Most likely in the basement, where we'll be coming in. It's the furthest from the doors, so they'll have a chance to kill them before the guards get to them. Usually.” He turned his head just enough that I could see his smirk. “Or so they think. We'll be taking out the one or two ponies guarding them, and then we’ll lead the hostages to safety. Once we've gotten word from the guards that it's safe, we'll get the ponies to follow the guards with those criminals being none the wiser. Did you get all that?”

A file came out of my brain’s main drawer. “Something something denying hostages to bastards.”

It must have been good enough, or things were too dire to ignore, because he muttered something under his breath and started running. I followed, all the while wondering what kind of image that must have looked like. The two brave heroes galloping inside the sewers, Prissy Blueblood leading the charge, while also completely ignoring the less than noble liquid flowing near them.

There was little light, save from what came from Blueblood's horn, but he never once gave the impression of being lost. Quite the feat, because I certainly was! Honestly, the place was like a labyrinth where we turned right, then left, then straight ahead, then into a curve, right, right, left, down a level and finally right. A labyrinth, I tell you! At this point, I was silently wondering if there was a radar hidden on Blueblood's person. Maybe in his horn…

I would need to distract him so I could get a closer look. “Soooooooo... are we there yet?”

“Almost,” he said breathlessly, suddenly slowing down from full gallop to a trot.

So suddenly in fact that my motor skills failed and I ended up knowing the taste of his fur. And a bit of his tail too.

Predictably, he glared while I tried to purge the taste of snobbism from my tongue. “Watch it!” he hissed.

I pulled back further, a full bouncing pout on my lips. “But I don't wanna watch your rump...”

His glare darkened considerably. “Not my flanks, you idiot, where you're going! Things will get very dangerous soon, and we'll both be in danger if you don’t pay attention.”

I shrugged, waving a paw dismissively. “Well, you're in front of me anyway. I can't watch a lot farther than that. It's dark. If you hadn’t noticed. I’d be surprised, but you never know.”

A long suffering sigh echoed in the sewers then. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“Well, studies show that it generally takes a few minutes for the average eyesight to adjust to darkness.”

“We've been in here for seven minutes,” he deadpanned.

That made a grin appear on my face. One lone triumphant claw was pointed at Blueblood’s face. “Logic dictates that you're thus alright.”

“Yes,” he said, gritting his teeth. “That is how logic works.”

“Glad to have enlightened you,” I chuckled, patting him on the back in a show of camaraderie. I mean, he was bad, but he could have some rare moments of decency that needed to be nurtured as much as possible.

Some other habits would need to be cut down on, like the swearing. It was the first time since I had met him, but he was swearing something creative right now. Not even I could have thought up of using the moon that way. Hay, if he said that anywhere near a grandma, she’d drown him with soap. What a potty mouth.

“Well, that was cathartic,” he said with no regard to my newly born trauma. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

From this point forth, it looked as if something had changed in the prince. It took until we had turned one last corner for me to realize… My ears were twitching, turning to focus on the noises that I heard, and they were never moving toward him. My first thought had been that it was because of a super soundproof material on the floor, but my claws still ticked on the stone at every step.

The only sound in the sewer seemed to be the echo of my hooves, and the faint shimmer of Blueblood's magic. Sparkles of glittery magic rang with a little chime-like noise, but too discreet to register unless one specifically tried to hear it.

A moment’s later, his head turned to the sewer’s wall, the one closest to him, and he showed a somewhat relieved smile. There was an engraving where he was looking at, something that looked to be recent, and with a hoofwriting that looked vaguely familiar.

Blueblood’s gaze suddenly went to our surroundings, in quite literally every direction, before his horn’s glow grew bigger. At the same time, the light seized a few bricks and levitated them away from the wall.

I would admit… I stared. “Secret passage?”

His expression lacking any of its characteristic sternness or disdain, he nodded, almost entirely focused on the trap door just ahead. “We've had... problems, with this house before,” he whispered. “Terrible neighborhood, ideal location for troublemakers.”

He put one hoof on the stairs, then paused and breathed deeply.

“Havoc,” he said as quietly as possible, “if you want to say something, now is your last chance. After this, I want you to be silent.”

To my own surprise, I actually had a question: “What do I do?”

“Right now, we're under their basement. We have an access panel here where we'll be able to smuggle out the captives. They should be in the room above us. What we don't know is if there will be guards directly in the room with them. If that is the case, our job will be to free the captives and take out the guards before they sound the alarm.”

With that said, I was all but ready to stomp inside and show them what I was made of, but my legs decided not to move for a few more seconds. Seconds, might I add, that Blueblood made judicious use of.

His hoof fell heavily onto my shoulder. The look in his eyes then was serious, so very serious and so very not-Blueblood-like. “I'd prefer if there were no casualties, Havoc, but if push comes to shove, we may need to kill the guards. Hopefully, we can simply knock them out, but that may not be possible. Our priority is to get every civilian out of there safe and sound. Do you understand?”

A very deep voice in a secluded corner of my brain started chanting at the mention of death. For a few seconds, I listened to it, wondering if I would get a shot at a bit of blood again. The war of Evil vs Oblivions was not over yet, not by a long shot…

“Oki doki, loki.” I nodded. “‘M ready to try.”

“That's all I ask,” he said, then turned to the trapdoor and, with a single swipe of his horn, managed to lift it without even the smallest noise. If he put it down, I did not noticed.

Perfectly silent, Blueblood crawled inside, his now red body slipping away from sight quickly. With no order whatsoever, he somehow communicated for me to follow in the cramped space.

There was little room for error here. The ceiling almost brushed against my horn, even with my belly touching the floor. Every four or five planks, there was a supporting beam to make the whole thing more challenging. Channeling my inner snake was the only solution.

After a couple of twists and mindboggling attempts at occupying a smaller volume than my body needed, I managed to get into position. Thus, I was, upside-down, my head on the floor, my butt against a support column and my legs stabilizing me against the ceiling. It probably was painful to look at.

Not knowing where my articulations were helped a lot.

All that was needed was to hear the signal, whatever it could be. My ears were wide open, all for the sake of catching the probably audio cue I would get.

But there were some faint noises echoing in here, breathing and hushed whispers, all very shaken, and the soft sobs of a foal or two. With every choked cry, there was a brushing noise in turn, of hoof against fur, and more gentle reassurances. Even to me, those felt terribly empty.

“Shut up!” came a louder and harsher order. “I swear if you don’t get that kid to shut his mouth, we’ll bring him to the boss! Do you think he’ll be happy?!”

The next sob was cut short with a squeak. I could smell the fear in the air. It was even a bit nauseating. Uncertain, I glanced back to see where my companion was at this point.

Blueblood’s face was set in stone. He wasn’t that far, and there was a little light filtering down from the cracks in-between some tiles, but even in complete darkness, I probably could have recognized that look on his face anyway.

Unforgiveable, Mister Broom told me. Absolutely unforgiveable.

I felt a shiver. Something was very different about him and not just his coat’s colors. A strange feeling pulled at my guts when I looked at his horn, his non-shining, non-shimmering horn. His face was scrunched up in concentration, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard.

But the plank of wood over him moved all the same.

I felt my breathing stop. My body stilled, the world stilled, everything suddenly disappeared to become entirely him looking just in the small crevice created.

He looked back and mouthed ‘two’.

Swallowing silently, my mind flying wild with ideas, I shimmied my way to his spot. This was it. Time to prove my worth in not screwing up ponies’ lives.

Very carefully, I glanced at our surroundings. It was a dark, damp place, but a few torches hanging from some walls helped see further. I flinched at the sight of a pair of dirty hooves close enough for me to smell. Now I got what Blueblood had meant. Two bulky, hardened stallions – one a pegasus, the other a unicorn – were looking unflinchingly toward the side of the room opposed to our own. A glance told me why.

There were many bundled up forms all gathered in that corner, a few smaller than me by half. Those were held close by the adults against their bodies, a silent promise of protection. Their manes were disheveled, mated and sticky in some spots. With greater focus still, I could see a darkened trail going from the corner of one’s stallion mouth to his chin. That one’s right front leg looked too twisted to be natural.

I felt the shift of muscles against my left shoulder then, and I barely held in a yelp of surprise. Blueblood had moved, his sides to mine, and the plank was slowly moving upward. My breath got caught up in my throat.

In the corner of my eyes, I saw a glimpse of savage anger flash on Blueblood’s face. Then, wind from nowhere blew into my mane with the blindingly fast throw of the plank.

The two lookouts did not get a chance to move out of the way. They were thrown against the door with a resounding smack that echoed throughout the previously silent hideout. To my ears, it felt as if a bomb had detonated, and many cries of shock came in response.
Blueblood’s lips let loose a curse or two about carelessness, not even waiting for the ponies’ unconscious body to slid to the floor. The plank had bounced off their faces and fallen back onto the floor in just as loud a clatter.

“That was too hard!” Blueblood growled to himself while climbing out of our hole as fast as he could.

Maybe a better solution would have been to soften the blow with foam, or bubbles, or maybe taking the time to hypnotize them through an elaborate series of mirror that would –

No time! a friend of mine shouted.

Startled, I shot to the ceiling with a burst of air, wings flapping hard. My eyes down onto the hostages, I pointed to the hole with both my front legs. “Come on, ponies! Come with him if you wanna live!”

At once, the ponies stood up, clattering and staggering to their hooves. More than half of them jumped into an immediate gallop to get to the secret entrance, but theirs were not the only hoofsteps I noticed. The sound of shuffling hooves echoed from above me in a stomping stampede. Shouts rang loud, with orders to ‘Get down there!’ and ‘Make sure they’re all calm and obedient!’ , and the sounds were only growing louder.

“Quickly!” cried Blueblood. “They’re coming!”

“Coming fast,” I added.

“Havoc, you guard the door!” he said without looking at me. “Don't let anypony come in here!”

He took off running, moving around the hostages to get to the few ponies still getting away. Amongst them were those that were trying, but were trembling heavily. There were puddles near them, reflecting the light of the torches in a crimson glow.

The thought of red made wings twitch. BloodgutsfleshtastytastyniceHUNGRY!

“HAVOC! THE DOOR!”

I shook my head, a few droplets of saliva falling to the ground, and dove for the creaking wooden door. Unfortunately, I still sucked at landing.

My body smashed into the panel and slammed it shut, straight onto somepony’s muzzle if I were to believe the sudden swearing on the other side. I had trouble feeling my shoulder now.

Rankles shook the world, or just me, and it was only luck that I had half of my grip firm onto the ground at the time or I would have been thrown off my spot. Eh, I didn’t, what… The thoughts in my brain were growing fuzzy. Right plus two equals maybe hit my head?

“Keep it up, Havoc! As long as you can!”

Oh, okay, random Blueblood carrying an injured mare on his back.

It was easier to push my back against the door than to stand anyway. Nice door. If only it didn’t shake on its knobs every five or so seconds. So pushy. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a nice door. Just a barely tolerable one that was giving me thoughts of murder.

Nope, nope, bad me. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. The stream, birds, rivers, peaceful mornings without alarm clocks, a picnic with an hippo…

“Mommy!” screeched a filly.

“I’m getting her next, just come with me now!”

I am the peace, the sky with clouds and a winning lottery ticket. Bow before me, your relaxed deity.

In fact, I was so relaxed that the next shake made me stumble forward. My balance shot, I fell back on four hooves, and a hard wooden surface slapped my butt.

“Hey!” I shouted, feeling a strong force pushing me further away. Still in the butt. Those perverts! “I was thinking of ducks! Can’t you people knock before slapping?!”

Briefly, the forceful push faltered, then faded in a stunned silence. However, it only lasted for a few seconds before those bastards started pushing again. For. Real. Guys?!

Blueblood, of course, was not very helpful.

“Madam, it's safe down there, I promise you. Just let me help you! Your daughter is safe!”

Scowling, I started pushing with my hindlegs at full strength, happy to feel it retract a couple of inches. “Do you guys have no sense of decency?! I’m naked in here! Bad enough that you don’t know the definition of bad touch!”

The door finally deigned to answer, all with the coarse deep growling voice of a stallion, “Somepony shut him up, for Celestia’s sake!”

“Holy mother of freaking Entropy!” I roared. “Don’t you dare get me started on censorship, you evil cheese-making Golden Retriever!”

There was a bang, not just a little whimpy poof, a bang and everything shook. Not just me, all the vertebras in my spine and then some in the next pony’s spine. My hooves started sliding alongside the scratchy rock, inexorably, without me being able to do a thing about it. Except protest.

“Can you please stop banging me?! I don’t like where this is going!” I shouted in panic.

“The one to shut that moron up gets a promotion! Double pay for a month!”

“Are you naturally this mean or did you dislike getting touched that bad? I swear I didn’t quite realize you were intelligent enough to be sapient! If you knew you weren’t just a dumb piece of wood, I wouldn’t have–”

“TRIPLE! I AM PAYING TRIPLE TO WHOEVER GETS ME THAT GUY’S TONGUE!”

“I don’t want to kiss you! You’re probably full of termites!” I whined, trying to channel my inner Rarity. Doors were dumb, diamond dogs could be dumb, therefore doors might be diamond dogs. Whining was their weakness! “Doooooooooon’t! This harness is too tight! Can’t you loosen it?!”

Like I had predicted, the door stopped pushing me out of the way. Its inevitable victory over me was delayed, though not for the reasons I had logically conceived.

I, to my great shame, felt relief seeing Blueblood’s burgundy body lean against the door. “We’re almost done here, Havoc. Just a few more moments...”

“So, huh, you do this often, Blue?” I asked, feeling some bones in my back move in ways that were probably not recommended by one doctor out of ten. “This whole ‘save-the-ponies?’”

“Now is not the time to talk about this!” he growled.

“The weather then?”

“Havoc! Focus!” he shouted, anger and desperation making his voice raw. Every inch of his body was tense, thrown in an effort to block the door. “We need to protect the hostages! The bad ponies are coming!”

As if to punctuate his words, splinters of wood burst from just between us, the edge of a metal blade sticking out. Threats filtered much better through that small opening, and they promised oh so much pain.

My fangs clattered together, a low, deep burning chuckle coming to lie within my lungs. They promised pain, dismemberment, “You’re so dead!”, shoving horns in private places, and pain, pain, pain. And I was clutching my chest with one hoof, as the words repeated in my brain, and I found my blood growing cold. And again again, Blueblood’s words.

Bad! Ponies!

“Do you mind if I do something?” I asked in a monotone. “This is killing my tailbone. It’s screaming in agony, or it’s being a drama queen.”

He looked not to me, but to the rest of the room, finally emptied of hostages. “If you believe it will help, do it and fast!”

“You might wanna move away,” I quipped, my fangs clenched together.

Maybe it was something I said or the way I smiled, but he paled and wasted no time arguing. In the blink of an eye, he was nowhere near me. Perfect, I grinned.

See you in Tartarus, Door!

Throwing my head forward, I clenched my abdominal muscles and brought forth the firepower. Heat rose in my throat, a rumble shook my lungs and flames erupted in a steady burning stream onto the damnable door and its bad ponies!

Blaze spread almost instantaneously in the dances of monstrous elementals, chuckling to hellfire’s hymns. Their figures twisted before my eyes, shifting from one size to another, calling forth more of their own to eat away at this accursed building in an ever growing scene of End.

I smiled then, from one ear to the other, I smiled before the ire with all my fangs and the cheers of Barbara Sunshine loud and clear. I could hear my blood sing and I was looking with fondness at the destruction. “Pretty...”

“Havoc, we have to leave now!” came Blueblood’s voice.

Buzzkill, I thought, but regretfully tore my eyes away from the spectacle. Time to go, I guess.

Jumping away from the heat and smoke, I grabbed two furry pony tails from the ground and trotted merrily to the hole, not really caring if the two guys attached to them were hitting their chins on the floor with each step.

A spring in each leg, I pronked my way down the stairs, the satisfaction of a mission accomplished carrying me. “Cause I love to see you smile! Yes, I do. It fills my heart with sunshine all the while!”

I stopped in front of Blueblood, whose look was that of pleasant surprise. “That was some very quick thinking, Havoc.”

“My throat was itchy. Needed clearing badly.” I giggled, causing high-pitched and low-pitched mania to meet in a nerve-grating sound. Even I thought that was bad. But, for honor’s sake, I acted as if everything was alright? “What about those two?”

He looked to the unconscious criminals just behind me. “Well, we need them for questioning, Havoc. Not us personally, but the authorities.”

Could he have said something more boring? “Alriiiiiight,” I sighed, smoke coming out of my mouth.

Blueblood grinned. “I'm sure the chefs will be more than happy to get you something else to eat.”

“Those heavenly warriors will?!” I gasped loudly.

“Oh, trust me. After they hear of this, they’ll be quite happy to cook a full meal for you. Besides, Chef Ram’s Head was complaining about the lack of practice his sous-chefs were getting about cooking meat. Something about it being raw.”

“Oh hell yeaaaah!” I fist pumped the air so hard it broke a bit. “I'm going to reenact the Ragnarok of the pig gods. Be it raw or cooked, no meat shall escape my sight, especially not when those guys and gals are the one preparing it.”

His smirk was rather telling. “Yes, they are the best in the kingdom, and I would argue the best in the world. And they are going to be cooking your next meal. Again.”

The sound I produced then could be – by a tremendous effort of imagination and stretching suspension of disbelief very far – mistaken for a schoolfilly’s gleeful squee. By the tone deaf and the arrogant.

Blueblood was of the number, chuckling to himself, while the others –

"Wait, where are the others?"

“Behind that corner.” He helpfully pointed. “You scared them with your giggles and your squeeing.”

Oh, that was just unfair! “Awww, guys, come on, everyone giggles. It's like breathing and having thoughts of murder!”

Blueblood’s hoof met his forehead. Underneath it, I could see a deep and singular melancholy.

A second later, I understood what had bothered him. What a thing to overlook! “Wait, Blueblood, do I even breath?”

His eyes widened a bit, probably impressed I had realized my mistake. “…Yes, most of the time at least.”

“Sweet Celestia!” I placed a hoof to my mouth in horror. “Nopony told me that!”

Even someone as insane as I could tell that his was the expression of sheer bafflement. “We didn't think we needed to.”

At that, I pouted. That was even more unfair! Everyone’s always acting like that around me! “I am a completely new species, made out of chaos and madness. Who could tell if my chest moving is not just a mimetism?”

His mouth opened to reply something biting and assholish, but my words actually registered and he stopped dead in his track. “... W-well ...You see... we don't know that...” he admitted slowly. “We know you have lungs and that you breathe, but we can't tell if it actually does anything... and whether it does or not may simply be random.”

My tail flicked to one side. “Huh. Well, whatever. Kinda wanna go home now. Am I really the only one ever to think that?”

“Not even close,” Blueblood muttered with a smirk, before heading over that corner with me in tow.

The bunch of traumatized civilians looked on fearfully at the light coming off his horn. One mare even moved a foal behind her. In the heat of the moment, they had listened, but hearing that I might not be a breathing pony had reignited their suspicions.

Châteauneuf's expression turned softer, losing the last of the edge it had before. “I think your families would like to know that you're alright.”

The ponies assembled nodded, but there still was hesitation in their movements. They seemed torn between gratitude and apprehension. I caught more than one look sent my way, too few of them comfortable and relaxed.

“W-who… are you?” asked a grey stallion, whose lower lip had burst open.

“I am simply a pony in the service of her royal highnesses, I was sent here along with my companion to rescue you.”

From the small crowd, a blue colt slipped past the vigilance of the adults and spoke up. “What's your name?”

Blueblood, to my surprise, chuckled and gently ruffled the foal’s mane. “I wouldn't be a good spy if I told you that, now would I?”

“You're a spy?" The other foals came out of their hiding places, their eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement.

The prince’s smile was indulgent under the illusion. With a wink, he motioned for them to get closer. “Yes, but it’s a big secret,” he whispered loudly enough to be heard by everypony. “So if somepony asks, say you were not saved by Châteauneuf, but by a bunch of royal guards.”

The little ones all nodded quickly, admiration plastered all over their cutesy faces.

In a considerably better mood than before, Châteauneuf turned to the remaining ponies, “Let's get moving, everypony. I'm sure your families will be thrilled to see you all safe and sound.”

His interaction with the little ones had finished his job convincing them. Many a former hostage left out shaking, shuddering breath, even a tear or two, realizing they were finally safe and the nightmare was over. Only then did the gratitude truly pour over to my watchpony.

I didn’t think he realized how badly he was drinking up their admiration. It was just so obvious, even to something like me. His smile now was a lot more real than pretty much any other since I’d started hanging around him. He was just looking so damned pleased with himself, and the little colt looking at him with stars in his eyes was like a giant ego booster pack.

For some reason, that made me pretty happy too.

--

The way back went considerably smoother than the first trip. The freed hostages all obediently followed Châteauneuf throughout the labyrinth, and I didn’t need to hear his rumbling rambling, so I was feeling giddy too. Nope, I had been at the back of the queue with the two meanies on my own back, and a very nice mare had done her very best to explain how casting spell worked after I had asked. Didn’t understand a thing, but I was really grateful she had tried anyway. I said as much.

Did she blush? Not sure, she was a shade of dark pink, and I still didn’t have the slightest on how somepony could see skin reddened under thick fur.

I did, however, feel my face lit up with warmth when she placed a little kiss on my cheek as we parted. “Thank you,” she said, briefly touching my shoulder with a hoof. “We owe you two so much…”

Stunned, I didn’t react much beyond a few stuttered unintelligible noises. Why was it hot in the sewers? It had been cold before! Witchcraft! The only possible explanation!

The mare’s giggle stayed with me for a long time, even after she had followed the rest of the group into the secret passage leading to the militia’s station. Wh-what? What had happened?

So, while Blueblood took care of all the tedious paperwork-thingy-slash-diplomatic-relations, I decided to be actually productive. Pacing a bit, I ran the possibilities in my head, going from the logical (creating a cure to all diseases) to the slightly less logical (giving my input to the guards). It was when my eyes fell on the greenish gray rocks of the walls that the right idea hit me.

I wasted no time in getting to work. And was pleased to realize my claws were still there despite them looking like a chubby yellow hoof.

Time to get to work!

“...Havoc?”

The call almost distracted at the most crucial part!

I was almost done carving the horns and the goat’s head on the guy! A lesser artist would have let an inconsiderate Blueblood startle them into screwing up their delicate sculpture. But not Michaelo-Honesto Havoc!

In fact, the interruption seemed only to spark a greater fire within. The interruption and not at all my dragon’s spleen. The fire in my guts was very philosophical, yes, and it made me tremble with even more inspiration. The winds caught my wings and words started to appear in my head. So, of course, I let out the powerful impulse run wild with the bellows of my lungs.

~REGINA! SALVATIONE!~

~Culpa, Culpa Succubi, Maxima Lust!~

~Alchemist of Metal Full!~

~Why do you tempt me sooooooooo?!~

I twisted and turned away from a stunned Prince of the Unicorns, and the fifty or so red hooded ponies. No, no, no, they could not convince me.

~Mea culpa! Mea culpa maxima!~

~Not my fault! It was that witch’s fault, she did this with her witchy wicked wagic.~

~Magic, smagic. Something that ends in ‘gic’. ~

~Ah! Tragic! YES! YESSSSSSSS!~

I rose on my hind legs, pointed to the ceiling with both of my forelegs and let out another stream of flame to illuminate the sewers in red orange.

~Burn her to death or make her be miiiiiiiiiine! ~

I kinda overextended myself, as my sense of balance was not that good. Against all odds, I fell on my butt in an anticlimactic finale. And I was doing so well…

A white hoof came down just next to me, and attached to that was a stallion that looked equal part alarmed and annoyed. “…What are you doing?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“What is this?” he asked, pointing to my spontaneous art session with a stern tone. “Three minutes. I turned around for three minutes and you have created atrocious demonic art out of the walls. There is a cow eating a dog eating a tree eating a demon eating a filly eating the metaphorical concept of Truth! I don’t even understand HOW I understand what that is! So, I repeat, what is all that?!”

How to explain the delicate intricacies of art on my level? There were so many nuances, so many colors and sounds involved in the simple thought process leading to the creation. I should cite my inspirations, yes! Good idea, brain.

I cleared up my throat.

“Err, it looks evil.”

Blueblood looked momentarily dumbfounded.

So I stood up and propped up the two unconscious stallions on my back. “I'll assume it is for the time being. Say, where do I put those two? They should be waking up very soon.”

There was a short moment of silence during all of which I felt Blueblood’s hesitant stare over my coat. His voice was carefully guarded, especially with a guard station at like three meters of distance, and he pointed toward said station. “We hand them over to the Canterlot Special Unit. They’ll take care of the interrogations.”

“Alrighty then!” I giggled and jumped a bit as he knocked twice slowly, then thrice quickly, then six times in an crescendo over the sigil.

The click was different this time, as was the stallion that answered. He peeked his muzzle out of the secret door and started to enter the sewer on Blueblood instruction. It’s just… after that…

The guard pony actually froze in the middle of what he was doing, his pupils shrinking as they focused on the walls and ceiling of the sewers. His ears actually flattened against his skull, and he muttered something under his breath like ‘No… not again… I finished my Tartarus service last year…’

It was also NOT my fault that the runes all decided that this was the best time to glow ominously and drip blood all over.

But somehow the guard thought it was and fainted to make me feel bad. The glare Blueblood sent my way didn’t do much to help. The bastard.

Trying to hide my guilt under a sheepish act, I hoofed over the two floppy bodies of the two criminals he had knocked out.

--

Observatory Journal, by Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood.
Entry # 3

I was pleasantly surprised by Honest Havoc’s contribution to the emergency situation. I had not been certain about bringing him on the field in the first place, but as there had been no time to evaluate him properly, I took a gamble.

Luckily, it seems that he has a very strong desire for justice. The thought of ponies abusing other ponies has sent him into the scariest rage I have seen of him yet, and it was not even directed at me. The thought that a misunderstanding might unleash that kind of anger from him on an innocent makes me shiver.

Despite this mostly positive first test, I reserve my judgment on a more extended partnership in field mission between us. His insanity might seriously compromise any mission without prior notice.

To be examined further.

P.S. I must not forget to send a group of exorcists down in the sewers before we need to use them again. They have already found five demons in there, and there is a rumor about a sixth one. Strangely, reports say that they are looking for a ‘woman’ or an ‘Esmeralda’, whatever that is.

P.S.S. The soup kitchen thing should be put on my planner. I have a feeling Honest Havoc would be very disappointed if we didn’t actually go do some charity work.

…He is supposed to be a chaos demon pony, isn’t he?

[Illegible scratches]

No, nevermind that. I know the answer to it. He is a chaos demon pony and he was kicked out of Tartarus!

I’ll finish writing the entry when I find where he hid my desk. I was using it to write when he borrowed it!

The Rewarding of None

“So, is there a reason why you're back to being Blueblood instead of Castlesomething?”

Blueblood didn’t even sound irritated this time. His voice was neutral, pretty much even and carried admirably well within the walls of the Royal Castle. “Yes, because now we're safe in the castle and we're not in danger anymore.”

I snorted loudly. Did he honestly believe that? Him? Oh, he was delightfully more childish than I had ever imagined.

“But everywhere at every waking moment is dangerous,” I protested in the hope he would see the light. “Like, you could trip in the stairs and lose your legs.”

“Yes, but here we have back up and ponies who are more than capable of handling emergencies. The chances of us falling prey to danger are thus far lesser here.”

I had to snicker at his naivety. “Oh, Blueblood, you poor naïve, sweet and innocent stallion...”

He scoffed loudly, but I would not relent. He had this soft squishy niceness deep inside his crusty old exterior. I meant, you had to dig pretty darn deep, and it possibly required a team of professional spelunkers and supplies to last months, but yeaaaah, it was there. He just didn’t like showing it. The big jerk.

Grinning, I stretched my wings. “The smaller the possibility, the more probable it will happen.”

I held out my paw in the air, and snapped my fingers. The very next second, I could feel the weight of a Zebrafican bullfrog in it. It croaked like a sailor.

“See?” I sent him a smug look. “What were the chances of that?”

Blueblood frowned. “...That's different, you're using chaos magic. Statistics are useless when it comes to that.”

Huh?

I tilted my head to the side, my body following suit. “What do you mean? I'm not using chaos magic.”

He rolled his blue blueish eyes, pointing his hoof at the large and ugly gray-ish horned batracian in my grasp. “Then how did you make a frog appear? And you did, don’t deny it. There was clear cause and effect here. You may not have been aiming for a frog, but you brought it here regardless.”

It was hard not to laugh.

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” I grinned widely. “I taped the frog to the ceiling earlier.”

He paused, bringing a hoof to his mouth, then glancing up. The remains of the duct tape were there, hanging loosely by a gray thread to the stone arches. The gears started turning behind his eyes. “And it just happened to fall when you snapped your fingers?”

Oh, I so love the taste of triumph in the morning-slash-any-time-of-the-day. “Yup, what were the odds?”

Not for the first time since I met him, his face scrunched up as if he were eating a slutty lemon. “Fairly good when it comes to you apparently,” he said dryly and turned away.

Puzzled, I tossed the frog over my shoulder and followed. “What do you mean 'when it comes to you'? Isn't that the same for everyone?”

“Not at all. Certain beings have certain levels of luck and skill after all. Not everypony is born lucky.”

I scowled. “Well, I would not call myself lucky...”

“No, but you are chaotic, meaning that your chances of anything are all over the place.”

Not feeling up to fight that, I slunk over the window and let out a long sigh. “Fine.”

The sound of hoofsteps stopped, and I felt his gaze on me. “That's not necessarily a bad thing...” Blueblood said patiently, “It's simply that… a thing.” He cleared out his throat. “Things are things.”

His words made giggles bubble in my chest. “Those are some wise words,” I said in a singsong voice.

He rolled his eyes, bemused. “You know what I mean,” he said, and, much lower, almost too low for me to hear, “Possibly...”

In those circumstances, the logical thing to do was to get closer to him. Since I was both intelligent and quick-witted, I was already on Blueblood’s back when he said it.

Grinning, I leaned forward and whispered, “Maybe.”

The world brutally tilted with the sound of a surprised whinny and the jerk of a pony’s back. “DON'T DO THAT!”

My butt will remember that humiliation.

“Fine, I will not say 'maybe' again,” I promised, then paused while considering the chances that I would remember this promise in a few hours. In the end, I amended my statement. “Maybe.”

“That's not what I mean!”

Pouting in an excessively manly way, I crossed my forelegs over my chest. “Well, don't say it then. S’like Gold Goldman Mandrake Drakesulfur once said: ‘don’t say things you don’t mean’. And he proved it to me when he jumped off a cliff after saying he would demonstrate how to fly.”

Blueblood, who had been immobile and attentive till now, clenched his jaw shut. I heard the loud ‘clack’ sound it made. The corner of his mouth twisted. “At least, give me some warning before you land on me!” he hissed.

My eyes narrowed. “Will you dodge?”

The bastard did his best to look and sound sincere. “Maybe.”

Oh! OH THAT WAS THE LAST STRAW!

“That's not fair!” I cried out, the fur on my back standing straight. “Why can you say ‘maybe’ and I can't!”

He facehoofed. “It was not about saying ‘maybe’! I just want you to warn me before you land on my back."

For an instant, I stared at him, annoyance ticking at the corner of my mind and fighting a manly pout.

“Here's the signal.”

I took a deep breath, then let out an unearthly shriek, who I have been told before had the capacity to make people’s lives flash before their very eyes. Honestly, some ponies are just way too dramatic. It was merely a sound like nails on chalkboard, mashed Styrofoam, kittens boiled alive and burning inferno.

It truly was amazing what could be done through the use of ten discordant voices working together.

Though he was not moving and his irises had shrunken down, Blueblood’s face was white, like usual. So there was no problem. “P-perhaps a... less… terrifying… signal would be more appropriate?”

Well, I would have to rack my brain to find a better signal than that… “Like what?” I asked, scratching the back of my head. “A carcass dropped from the sky?"

This time, there clearly was a shade of green spreading across his muzzle. He spoke quickly and softly, like to placate me, “Nonono..... perhaps a simple .... ‘I'm landing’ or ‘incoming’ would work?”

EVERYONE’S A CRITIC!

“How about this?”

With the gentlest and softest of voice, I called for the angels and the heavens, in crystal clear high notes that melded into symphonies and ballads. Light shone down from the sky then, to capture the essence of the pure hearted spirits floating in air. They danced, jolting with the notes and spreading a peaceful aura of Good over the world.

When I stopped singing, it already felt like there was a piece of me missing, like a hole in my chest.

A big shiver shook Blueblood from horn to hooves. “A-alright... that would work.”

Score one for the draconicorn! Eat your heart out, Sapphire Shore! And save me a piece, because that is tasty meat!

Pronking, I jumped my way up to the princely prince of pony pony, a wide smile plastered over my face.

Wordlessly, Blueblood offered a smile back, though it kind of shook a lot. Reading his mind, I could see a deep and singular need for a bottle that looked suspiciously like wine. Or maybe that was just my imagination. Wouldn’t be the first time.

That poor lady guard…

Blueblood interrupted my reminiscence with a rather solid hoof to the shoulder. “Say... since our first mission together went so well, why don't we celebrate a bit?”

The words made my tail flick. “Oooooh, okay, like how? Cleaning up the floor?”

His smile stretched across the right corner of his mouth, and he seemed almost bemused. His tone seemed even indulgent. “With some drinks. Hard cider, wine and the like...” The smile grew smaller, something a bit faked and tired. “It's how I typically celebrate. I have quite a few different kinds. I’m certain you will find something to your liking.”

He waited for a few seconds for my reply. There was a bit of a shamble across my thoughts. A file not found, something something, wants! There!

My tongue shot out to lick my muzzle, where it also picked out the flavor of some sort of lipstick. “Eh, I guess that sounds like how some wild ponies might distract themselves. And I’m almost like a wild pony. So that should be fun.”

“Good, let’s go then,” he said, leading the way back to his room, with me on his steps.

The first thing he did after closing the door was to pull at a random brick near his bed: the twentieth starting from the right, on the sixth row of height, or if I focused a bit, I would say it was the one thousandth seven hundredth forty-sixth starting from the East corner on the bottom.

Err… What was I going on about already?

Oh yeah!

The wall proceeded to split open on an alcove that seemed to be tailor-made for the pleasure of an alcoholic. On a bunch of circling shelves that went from the floor to the ceiling, there were easily a hundred bottles of wine, booze, hard liquor and even the kitchen sink!

I almost felt a certain awe at the greatness rolling off the obviously best liquor cabinet in the kingdom. Like, little goose bumps were crawling all over my skin while my pupils widened to take in every detail.

My voice broke mid-shout. “You had an awesome secret stash and you didn’t tell me?!”

Blueblood paused in his browsing to give me a look.

“I’ve barely known you for a day, Havoc,” he deadpanned. “And you are supposed to be a prisoner under my watch.”

I waved it off. “Details. That’s booze. LOTS of booze. I could drown in all that! …Unless my lungs really don’t work. But still, point remains: Blueblood, that is a LOT of booze.”

The little dots before my eyes most likely were stars, and the source of that puddle at my hooves might have slipped from my mouth. Like, damn. I was getting flashbacks of a singing stage made entirely of luscious chocolate, except instead of sweet bliss, it’d be inebriated bliss.

“I see you are partial to the idea of drinking, then.” Blueblood smirked, levitating a mop and sweeping the floor. “And what would you like? Maybe something sweet?”

The words made me frown. “I'm not even sure I can taste sweetness anymore.”

A thin and elegant bottle floated off a shelf, encased in a blue cloud of magic. “Well, try this and you'll be able to tell.”

I shot a curious glance at the bottle, examining the strange symbols on the label. It was all little scratches and dots on a background of sand-colored paper. “What is it?”

I heard the chime of two elegant cups put down on a table and the steps of Blueblood’s hooves. “It's a desert wine, an iceberry wine to be exact.”

“Sounds normal enough.” I shrugged and sat down on a cushion, accidentally putting weight on my tail too. Ouch. “Shoot, I'm ready. I think. Dulls the pain, right?”

“Oh, it dulls many things, Havoc,” Blueblood chuckled to himself, a blue-lighted cork flying off another shelf. The ‘pop’ came out swiftly, with ease brought by what I guessed was practice.

For a second, it was hard to do anything but stare at the burgundy liquid tilting within the cup in front of me. ‘You can do this’, whispered a few friends. Gulping, I stretched my griffon paw and closed two claws over the handle of the glass. As delicately as I could, I lifted it and made the wine swirl within.

It looked and smelled sumptuous, with a rich and deep flagrance that was just barely different from blackberry. There was something else too, hot yet cold, a spice, maybe, that seemed to burst out in hot air in my nostrils.

With all the grace of a Celestia-chosen princess, I tilted the glass to my lips. The taste hit me before the liquid had even made it past my teeth. My eyes shot wide open, as the wine revealed its taste of dry sweet berries. My surroundings faded away in shifting dunes of sand, at first under the burning sun, right until the point where the wine hit the back of my throat. Then… then it was like ice going down my throat and the flavor crystalized over my tongue and I faltered in my seat.

With a loud ‘thud’, I fell on my back, all the while snickering played in the background.

Mane disheveled, I sat back up, blinking and smacking my lips together. “Hey, that's pretty nice.”

Blueblood looked insufferably smug. “Isn't it?”

Before I could reply, I breathed out a long stream of cold-burning air, and heat spread from my shoulders to my face. All of a sudden, it didn’t really matter if he patted himself on the back for his selection of wine. I just would like a bit more.

Slumped across the cushions, I sent a lazy glance to the prince, whose cup looked rather full, even on the verge of spilling. “Well, don't wait up on me; drink it up, Blue.”

His grin morphed into an easy smirk and he downed his glass in one shot. No shudder, not even a tiny little bit of reacting from the prince. The glass was put down on the glass and he did not even look fazed. His eyes even held a playful glint.

There was no denying the fire in my chest then. I was freaking jealous.

He made the original bottle float up to me, while fetching another for his own consumption. “Worry not,” he said, “it is quite easy to grow accustomed to.”

Biting down on my ugly instincts, I resolved to take another taste of the wine. The desert-like liquid went down so well with fresh air. I could have drunk so much more of that…

Slowly, without my noticing, I started to slip off my seat. Both my eyes blinking unevenly, the lower right part of my jaw starting to dull, I slurred, “You seem to know your alcohols well...”

Prince Blueblood mused it briefly, looking up in contemplation before simply shrugging. “I do... As I said, this is how I always celebrate.”
I paused, the bottle and its heavenly flagrance just a few inches away from my lips. Something in his words made me ears tick. “Always?” I asked with a curious tone.

If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care much. He even took another swig of the bottle before answering, “Especially with some of the things I see on missions...”

“You sure that's a good idea?”

“No,” he replied with the tone of somepony who heard it all before, “but it keeps me at least somewhat sane for my line of work.”

More red-purple that disappeared.

Somehow, the question slipped from my lips. “You know alcoholism will harm your health in the end?”

Why was I even bothering? It was neither my business nor my concern. If the infamous prince of the unicorns was drowning himself under his alcohol, it was nothing for me to bother with. My problems were already pretty big on their own. Heck, if he was going to keep sharing, I’d encourage him.

Except you haven’t, a little voice suspiciously like my own whispered to my ears. Quite the opposite.

My stomach churned and I did not know why.

“I don't mind.” Blueblood scoffed, a few droplets of wine staining the fur on his face. “Liver failure is a better way to go then a lot I've seen”

The next gulp went faster, a bit more frantic. It was nothing like the pony that had been around the foals. I wondered… what it had been in his eyes… could it have been relief?

For a second, I saw things with clarity. The dull sensation had spread to my limbs and my head, and I could look the prince in the eyes if he had had the guts. Yet, nothing could hide the subtle shaking of his hooves or that of his ears. His eyes then looked not a shade of sky, but of cold and loneliness.

“Seen a lot of shit in your days, huh, Prince Blueblood?”

He looked strangely compassionate then, one hoof outstretched to pass a bottle of hot whiskey. “More than you can actually imagine, I suspect.”

I could not quite keep the bitterness at bay. “And I'm going to see it all too from now on, right?” More wine sloshed down my throat, nicely cool. “Torture, slavery, starvation, infection... even black magic...”

Blueblood nodded, his face grim. “Unfortunately... a few more too, but I’d rather not mention them.”

We let the silence grow between us for a few more moments, the buzz of alcohol still clouding and dulling much of our worst thoughts. It was just barely enough for me not to think of stillness, of awkwardly twisted limbs and the same never-setting sky above…

Blueblood suddenly downed the bottle and grabbed another from the shelves. His white fur could not hide any longer the patches of redness growing. “You know, sometimes I'm surprised I'm not as mad as you are from all this...”

The words made me frown, and I felt the burning sting of glass shards penetrating my skin. My cup was gone. “Be thankful for it.”

“Believe me, I am.” He buried his muzzle into his cup, then mutters in a fainter voice, “At least most of the time...”

I snorted, though there was no amusement to it. “I'm batshit insane, Blueblood. You do not want it. You have no idea how scary it is.”

He shook his head, his fetlocks swishing left and right, and he places a hoof on the table to keep his unsteady balance. “And you have no idea how terrifying it is to witness starving and half mad foals eating their dead mother, Havoc. Cults have twisted and transformed their members into abominations as worship to whatever deity they claim, ponies with no conscience have sold their own to dogs and canines in the northern mines... I was there to see the results and–”

“I was aware, you know.”

Blueblood’s words came to a halt. His eyes widened in the slightest, and was that pity I saw shine briefly?

It made me chuckle. “They think I was born from the statue, but that's false. It’s the gentle theory. It’s the one that doesn’t haunt their nights. I saw it in their eyes when they examined me. The arcane specialist smiled, patted herself on the back and tried to hide how her mind reeled.”

The royal suite was very silent actually. I hadn’t realized it before, but with the sun setting down like that, there was barely a sound coming from outside. It was just us, and my dear handler was looking at me like he had never seen me before.

“You know… it kinda pisses me off,” I growled, lapping the liquid on my hand and shivering at its coppery taste. “They didn’t really figure out a lot about me. It was more them putting a few instruments to my face or my sides and look and compare and do the same little ‘hmmm’ sound every five minutes.”

A giggle shook my chest.

“They just took a look and said ‘Discord’s spawn’ even though that was the one time I yelled at them. But it was so much easier for them, Bloodblue. Because then, then no matter what I said, if they didn’t like it, they could go ‘he’s nuts’, or ‘yeah, nutter than a nutcase’ and ‘hmmmm,’ and ‘hmmmmmmmmm’! I HATE THAT SOUND!”

The shout boomed in the suite.

Something wet and salty hit my lips. Trails of fur on my face felt damp.

“Havoc…” Blueblood said, and dear merciful Celestia, was that compassion in there?!

I was clutching the table. I was shaking. I could not hear much beyond a humming sound. “Hmmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmm, just a lie. He’s mad. There’s no way, they say and they’re looking at each other and they know, it’s in their eyes, how the pupils are small and the irises are dim, and they’re scared and afraid that stone will crawl over their skin. They knew! They knew, I told them, but damn it, they don’t want to acknowledge it because it might give THEM nightmares!”

There was a chime of glass, something loud and heavy, and I saw the bottle he was holding in his grasp before tumbling and balancing itself on the table. Blueblood did not react to his own clumsiness, he looked struck by lightning, gobsmacked.

For some reason, it quenched some of the burn inside, and I slumped down with a weaker voice. “I was inside it, for a few centuries that lasted an hour. Maybe, not sure, it's hard to tell. I really pissed off Discord when we first met. I don’t really know when I slipped completely, but at some point, it was just normal. I freaked when I could move again.”

Blueblood nodded soberly. “I doubt anypony would come out of that with any sanity left.”

I shot a glance at the spilled wine amongst the crushed remains of my glass. A waste really. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Never changed a thing. It would probably make things a lot worse too if somepony other than him saw me spitting flames.

I felt strangely grateful for the new bottle of hard liquor Blueblood slipped to me. The few words of thanks that came then weren’t even hard to pull out. A good swig of liquid courage did help, I found. The few crazier voices in my brain were drowned out.

“You're wrong though. I came out almost sane.” My breathing was growing shallow, the churning in my stomach pulling at my chest. The daze had me lean heavily on just one leg, the griffon one. “Just on the verge, just on the verge, enough to have times where I'm really aware of what is going on, who I am, and when it starts to slip again. There's a moment where it starts, where I feel it coming..."

I retched, holding a hoof over my mouth. My lungs were burning. Screeches were rising in my mind with an intolerable crescendo, yelling rebellion and anger, and then beyond them all a frantic high-pitched one that spoke too fast. It seemed to strike at the others, all of them, especially vicious with those that held any of the ‘bad’.

A tingling energy was washing over my limbs and it became harder to fight down the grin that was threatening to split my face in two. The nausea gripped at my throat.

Blueblood handed me a bucket. A big shiny, shiny, shiny o-o-one! With metal on top, and the bottom and the sides! So pretty. Why was I bothered? Wait, what was I bothering about?

I heard a cackle from a filly and an old stallion.

“Awww, shouldn't have, Blueblood!” I cooed, flashing my best and brightest smile to the guy.

“You’re back…” he whispered.

I’m back?! I wasn’t even aware I ever left! It made me laugh, laugh and laugh so hard I tipped my head over and stuck it in the bucket. And wow, the sound in there is echoic.

Echoic.

Echoic.

Oooooh, I was going to have fun with that.

Looking under the bucket, rising it high enough to see, I glanced at a drinking Blueblood and winked. “I think we really should be doing something funnier.”

“Oh?” he asked with a knowing smile. “Still aiming for strip poker?”

The deck of cards stuck to my hoof was not proof. “Maaaaaaaaaaaybe. I mean, you have a tie, I have a bucket and they have armor.”

Blinking, the princey prince mouthed a silent ‘who?’ and I was but too proud to strut over to the door and show him.

His guards received the honor of being called out by what looked like a bucket poking out of his room. The poor things. “Gentlecolts," I said with an echoing voice. “You two are requisitioned for a night of strip poker.”

The grey pegasus on my right frowned, then looked at his brown comrade in arms on my left. Inexplicably, the grimace was echoed on that one’s face too and together, they aimed the same unpleased, hesitant look my way. “Do we have the option to refuse?”

“Steel Crescent, Brave Bolder, this is an order,” Blueblood said clearly.

The two loudly sighed upon entry, armors clinking after them. Oh there were goods to be bet tonight.

Closing the door – sealing their only way out –, I, ahem, whined, brilliantly pleaded for my case. “Come on, we're drunk off our flanks and the two of you have more on than we do. This should comedy gold for you two.”

As a gentlecolt, I pulled their cushions for them, and gestured for them to sit down. The grey one, Steel perhaps, seemed wary. Nothing a good round of booze couldn’t solve.

“Oh, and Bloob will serve you something too.”

I could feel the unimpressed glare coming from his seat without even looking. “Right, right, of course. You two are guests.”

Brave Bolder stepped up from his seat at the words, a hoof raised. “No, please, my prince. It would be improper to let you serve us.”

Blueblood proved his appreciation for proper behavior by snorting so loudly he almost spilled his drink. “Improper my flanks. You just don't want to be caught drinking on the job.”

A smaller bottle floated from his actual writing desk this time, and he uncorked it with a grin. The crayon-drawn, smiling apple on the label stared deep into my soul with its cheerful eyes.

“Here, nonalcoholic cider, drink to your heart’s content.”

Knowing defeat when it stared them in the face and called them losers, the two made no further protest and accepted our generous offer.

“Always a politician, Prince Blueblood,” Steel Crescent smirked, taking a sip of the beverage.

Well, now that we’re all here, I thought, time to play a scandalous game of strip poker!

With both my hoof and paw, I started shuffling the deck of cards with angelic grace and dexterity.

However, instead of being enthralled, Blueblood decided to put a hoof to his chest with all too mocking indignation. “What? Am I not allowed look after the ponies who are forced to look after me? Thunder Hoof would have your cutie marks tacked on a wall if he saw you drinking the real stuff.”

Were they ignoring me? Me? The dealer this round? That was like a crime of lèse-majesté. How dare they?! I’d show them! I’d show them all!

My greatest card trick, juggling.

Brave Bolder rolled his eyes, still refusing to pay attention to ME! “The old stallion would have us gelded for playing a cardgame, my prince.”

Whatever thought Blueblood must have been rather funny for he started laughing loudly. “He'd have you gelded for less than that I assure you.”

Steel Croissant sighed, then shook his head. “He would have. Just last week–”

For buckity buck’s sake! What does it take for a stallion to get attention around here?! That’s it, I’m ripping open the fabric of Space and Time.

A second later, as I stared into the hole of screaming madness, dark red lights flashing off and oozing darkness strangling me, I wondered if that had not been my worst idea yet. It really might beat my now second worst idea ever, or so I figured when clawing at the monstrous demon eating my face.

The yellow hat really comes close to this though.

But like all true heroes, I managed, with fire and blood, unbowed, unbent, unbroken. Hear me roar.

And to top it all off, when I slumped over the table, covered in guts and trying to digest a still squirming demon, the three offending ponies looked surprised. Buck me senseless. They hadn’t even listened.

Blueblood was the first to break through the uncomfortable silence. “...What happened to you?”

He doesn’t deserve the truth. “My imaginary friends came to visit.”

The inattentive bastard cocked an eyebrow and took a sip of his hard liquor. “Some friends... You don’t need to introduce us. Ever. You’re almost dead.”

“Not my guts, actually.” I snickered, which made the already jumpy guards even more jumpy.

Seriously, the two were running all around the suite, shouting at each other about a security breach and something about an intruder. Which was greatly ironic considering I had been trying to get them to notice the true danger all along.

Blueblood was the one to get them to settle down and not alarm the whole castle. It wouldn’t be good for his reputation, or something equally pompous, he said. Rather smoothly, despite the beginning of a slur, he invited them back into their sitting position.

They both sat down, but the way they kept glancing everywhere probably meant something.

“So, huh, I’m the dealer,” I declared, readjusting the bucket over my head as the symbol of my authority. “Call for cards.”

“The game has started,” asked a masculine voice that was not Blueblood’s.

“Your cards were already dealt,” I replied enigmatically. “You’re holding them in your hooves.”

Two of them gasped. The third one sighed.

“Ah!” I snorted, which made a nice echoic sound again. “Guys, don’t reveal the value of your hands like that. Have a pokerface!”

The tangible silence that followed was definitely just them thinking about how many cards they wanted to change. That and nothing more. I could clearly not see anything beyond darkness and a bit of metal. So, unless I had divination powers…

Le gasp!

No…

Ahem, so unless I had divination powers which was impossible… Er… something.

“Two cards,” was said, followed by two knocks of a hoof on the table.

“None,” added the… earth pony, yep! That sounded dirty!

“Blueblood?” I asked, turning my head in a random direction.

“Hmmm,” hummed the bastard, causing one of my hooves to shake. “I will… replace three.”

Two, zero, three, and… done! Ah! Who could ever accuse me of being a bad card dealer?! Who would ever focus on that before the accusations of reckless endangerment of everything and everyone ever?! Who would be that stupid?! HUH?!

“What about you?”

Huh?

Blinking under my bucket, I turned in the direction of the sound. Whichever pony had spoken must have felt my burning gaze, because they repeated the question, this time adding a ‘will you change your cards?’ to the mix.

Ah, it might be a good idea to try to look at my cards at some point. So, my hearts heavy with regrets, I pulled off the bucket just long enough to peak at my hand. A quick cursory glance revealed four cards of different colors with a little ‘A’ written in the top corner.

I frowned. “Bloodyblue? Mind giving me a slight reminder here?"

The white unicorn going by that accurate designation blinked a few times, then frowned. “About what?” he slurred.

“The cards...”

Steel Crescent exchanged a look with Brave. Hard to describe, but definitely a meeting of the eyes between two long life partners in a perfectly platonic professional relationship.

“If they're moving…” Blueblood leaned heavily on his right front leg, his face a bit red. “…That's not the cards, that's the whiskey.”

None of the cards were waving at me, so I dismissed that well-meaning advice. “Well, they're still still. No, what I mean is the… the max is four of the same, right?”

All the ponies around the table nodded.

“So if I only have four, I'm not one short of good, right?"

They nodded again, though Steel Crescent seemed to be slightly relieved by something. Once more, he sent a meaningful look to his guard companion.

“There's only four of each kind of card, Havoc,” Blueblood reiterated.

“I sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssee…”

Eh, didn’t know my tongue could do that.

“Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssee…”

Holy cow! That was one of the best things ever!

I opened my mouth to try it again, but found myself unable to. A cloud of blue magic surrounded my muzzle and jaw and held them shut. I glared with all of my hatred toward Blueblood.

“Just change your cards or not.”

I took one long last expert look at the four similar cards and the one odd little guy in the corner, and slammed my whole hand on the table. “Yeaaaah, all five too.”

For some reason, Steely Crescendo’s jaw fell to the floor while I was busying myself over picking a whole new hand. His eyes repeatedly went to my discarded hand and my face, then to Blueblood and Brave Bolder. “Did he just...?” he gasped with a slightly higher pitched voice than usual.

A solemn nod shook both Blueblood and Brave’s heads, the latter of which being apparently a wise and observant pony. Neither saw me replace my cards though. All five were held in front of my shiny bucket before they had even blinked in my general direction.

“Sooooo, who wanna bet something?”

Steel Crescent was the first to move, removing his helmet and sliding it on the table. After that, Brave Bolder followed suit, also choosing to put his piece of armor in the pot. Not one to back off a bet, Blue-the-blood took off his silk tie, gently rolled it up and placed it right in the middle of the table, and me…

I suppressed a sob. The weight of what I was doing hit me like a ton of bricks.

My poor dear bucket, bet in a game of poker. I was a monster.

What have I done? Oh forgive me, Madame Bucket! I am gambling away your family!

In the respectful silence that ensued, Steel Crescent squirmed, looking at his cards a few times, then at me and the others. In the end, he frowned. “Huh... are we calling the rounds or...?”

I nodded bravely, shuddering despite my best effort. “Y-yessss, let's do that.” I sniffled and swallowed my tears. “To honor their sacrifices. And since everything I have worn today is in the middle of that table, I call full. My fate rests on this hand I got randomly.”

Steel Crescent's ears twitched. He looked back at his cards, then to the remaining ponies around the table. Both were drinking with a solemn look plastered over their faces.

“Why do I have a terrible feeling about this?”

Blueblood’s voice somehow managed to be reassuring, haughty and slurred at the same time. “You will notice I am only betting my least favorite tie.”

My grin widened. "So, you guys are all ready to show off your cards, right?"

Swallowing, Steel nodded slowly.

I felt my smile freeze a little on the corners. “Okay then, Blue. You're up first.”

So, for the first hand, three princes of Canterlot, the Crystal Empire and of Saddle Arabia, combined with a six and a nine. Or maybe a nine and a six…

“Damn it,” muttered Steel as he uncovered two pairs.

Brave, for his part, wordlessly put his cards face down.

They all turned, expectantly, toward me.

I groaned and facehoofed, sinking into my seat. “Dang it! I was just bluffing.”

In disgust, I dropped my cards on the table, revealing my series of red low numbers. And I cried, oh dear me I cried the loss of my dear good old friendly bucket. We were just starting to get acquainted. Oh, why, cruel world, had I played God and gambled it?!

The others stayed respectful silent as I let out my feelz. It was very important. Only when the last of my bubbling despair had stopped bubbling did I slowly look up from my position on the table.

Steel's jaw had dropped a bit low, hanging just a bit over the floor. His gaze was on the table and the cards, and he looked ready to throw up in sheer disgust. Whatever the others said was lost, but his voice came out a bit stronger. “...Did he just randomly get a straight flush?”

“Yes,” Blueblood said and drank some more.

Steel Crescent then dropped down for no reason, looking all sad and dejected. “We’re going to lose everything, aren’t we?”

Brave Bolder had caught on. “Definitely.”

“Oh most certainly.”

So, while I rejected their nonsensical declarations of whatever, I felt a sudden weight on my horn, then the cold bitchy touch of a ring of metal across my skull. My heart leaped in my throat as I looked further up and saw blue magic surrounding the tie and both the guards’ helmets.

He chuckled, swaying in his seat. “It seems you won this round, Havoc.”

I blinked. “I did?”

Then, it sank in as the thing on my head slid a bit to the right. Sparks in my brain suddenly went off, spreading fast across a network of bubbly bibbly joyful bliss.

“Sweet!”

It all came to a halt in one swooping fell. “Wait. I just had a brilliant idea.”

Fervently, febrile, both my legs shaking badly, I grabbed the helmets and held them high above my head. “Today, we reach a higher level of genius.” Barely holding my breath, I placed the helmets on top of the bucket. "Now my head is super protected."

For some reason, Blueblood fell to the ground with guffaws of laughter.

Oh laugh it up, infidel.

I delicately poked the delicate and precious precious new super-head-protector. “But is it enough?” I wondered as it tilted on one side or the other. “Like, imagine a giant butterfly passed by and knocked me on the head!”

“Ah, huh,” the brown guy interjected, his lips bizarrely quivering and curling up, “you'd be fine. They’re specially issued… Havoc?”

Hmmm, a good point.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should test it.”

“No!” Steel shouted, making me jump. “T-that's important material you have there. You can't bruise it as a test. We’ll be summarily executed, fired and then demoted!”

Pouting, I felt on my eye twitch. Without a word, I grabbed the first thing I could and shoved it in my mouth. It just so happened to be something liquid that burned all the way down to my stomach.

“More?” asked Blueblood, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

A hoof on my chest, I felt up the fire and the heat and suddenly I had to blink a bit of blurring.

“Ah, good, goooood,” I swayed on my hooves, then put on a grin worthy of a dragon. “So, you want to not see a bruise on any part of your polished armor, not even the light touch of a butterfly… well then...”

Fast as lightning, I made a grab for the cards and threw them all in the air.

“I'LL SHOW YOU BUTTERFLIES!”

Above, the cards coalesced, flipping at first on their axis as normal cards would, until some of them collided and fused. Those mutations started flapping their paper sides as wings and twisted in circles, collecting more and more of their own in a growing tornado of checker pattern and numbers.

Brave stared, his mouth hanging open, his brown legs solidly nailed to the ground. Blueblood however – that lazy jackass – did not lift a finger to help and instead poured himself another glass of whiskey while he slumped down in his seat.

The cards suddenly expanded, burst out, like four large prism that looked down on us with disdain. A shiver waved through the tip of the wings, rejoining in the center to give rise to a deformed balloon like head and two ugly beady eyes.

Staring in wonder, I neglected to cover my ears as it roared.

I was sent flying, from my seat to somewhere above the bed. Luckily, the ridiculous expensive bedding of Blueblood’s bed proved to form a solid net. Unfortunately however, my safety seemed to enrage the construct who quivered with unbridled fury.

I showed all my fangs. “Bring it,” I said and bounced forward.

The pain blinded me for a second in a hot white flash. As I soared in the wrong direction, at the wrong angle, I held my muzzle with a cry. It had slapped me aside with one swipe of its wing.

And I collided with a particular, well-known drawer that I had discovered a lifetime ago.

Oh no, not the precious vase he got from his relatives in Caneighda!

I saw it topple, leaning on one side delicately to the edge of a high – too high – drawer, and it would fall. I was too late, I knew, I knew it to my bones. There were no way for me to save it, but I threw myself at it in the pointless, futile hope…

All too slowly, each detail permanently embedded into my brain, it fell and crashed to the ground in a thousand pieces.

YOU SHALL BE AVENGED!

The roar that came out made the walls themselves tremble, and the butterfly finally stopped its rampage, knowing the meaning of fear. Too late. Its cry weakened and its eyes darted toward an exit that it did not find, and the laugh that came from my mouth then had no joy.

There would be no mercy.

“I’ve got you now!” I growled, pinning the butterfly underneath me. “You’ve been found out for who you really were. Now, I’ll show the whole world!”

With a swipe of my claws, I ripped off the card-insect’s head off, sending its blood flying. The monstrous shriek became more equine, a pitch deeper and raspier. The mask exploded, suddenly, in little confetti and revealed a dirty gray mane half stuck in the butterfree’s torso.

“I knew it!” I grinned and turned to the others. No attention was given to their baffled expressions. No! I was pursuing the truth! “Doesn’t that mane remind you of somepony, gentlecolts?”

My fangs sunk into the costume, my tail twitching in disappointment at the lack of blood, and I pulled with all my strength. Shreds flew out, revealing itself to be nothing more than skillfully colored papier-mâché and an electronic computer to digitally alter the culprit’s voice. A twitch went through my chest at the sight of the squirming shape inside the fake animal’s guts, and for a second my mind went blank. No, nope, no, bad Havoc, not now… not bloodgutsmeatbloodgutsmeat!

I roared at the thing with all my might, all my limbs shaking from a bout of hunger. Couldn’t. Can’t. No, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. I was doing something. Yeah, butterfly… effect! Don’t stop or you might cause the past to change!

My claws shot forward and grabbed the culprit. From the remains, a wrinkled bitter stallion stumbled out.

“Old Janitor Stan!” shouted both the guards through their own unending shock.

“Indeed, Old Janitor Stan!” I gasped. “It was you all along! I never would have guessed! You were using the cover of a giant butterfree to steal the booze!”

“Yes, it was me! I was jealous of your beauty and needed you gone!” Spittle flew off the old timer’s mouth. His glared darkened and he focused on the stallions lazing near our poker table. “Unfortunately, those three gave you the courage to find that the real crystal heart was inside you all along! My plan couldn’t work anymore unless I personally crushed you. And I would have gotten away with it if not for yo-”

He never finished the sentence. A twist of my claws on his face made him explode into cards. “Bored now! Too long, didn’t read.”

“Old Janitor Stan…” whispered the guards again, their voices breaking. “I can’t believe it…”

“I, for one,” cut in Blueblood, “have no memories of there ever being such a character in the castle. A great shame, I suppose.”

Perking up, both Steel and Brave turned to look at once another in surprise, Blueblood smirking in the background, and on their faces, the sadness was slowly replaced by something else. First, Brave furrowed his brows together, silently mouthing a few words. At that, Steel’s eyes widened a bit in size, right before he brought his hoof to his forehead. A harsh scoff came then, but Brave remained puzzled, and perhaps even more.

His voice thick and slow, he sent a glance toward me. “But we said it first…”

The word for that, I knew it well, had learned it with all the pores in my body and then some. It had been a loyal and clingy companion of every second for a while, and it was always so close. I knew it was still waiting just there, around a corner, for the right moment to put its twisted hands on my throat and squeeze.

Horror. That was the thing painted all over the two’s faces. It oozed off them in oily waves in-between the silence between us and I could see they were almost ready to bolt for the door.

What stopped them however did not come from me. Rather, our ears all ticked at a barely noticeable hissing noise rising in intensity. Steel and Brave stood together, stiff as statues with the rest of their armors clinking loudly. The muffled sound grew quite a bit louder suddenly and with that became unmistakable. Prince Blueblood was choking on his own repressed laughter.

“You know, gentlecolts,” he said with a twinkle in his glazed over eyes, “I never quite realized how entertaining he can be to watch. I suppose it takes being away from the center of insanity to gain an appreciation for his art…”

I threw my front legs in the air. “It’s what I’ve been saying all along, but nopony listens!”

“You never said that, Havoc,” he pointed out over another sip of his wine. “Nonetheless, impressive. I admit to being glad my senses have already dulled. The frog incident still torments me.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the loud thumping noise that shook the table. At a glance, I saw one grey stallion with his forehead nearly imbedded in Blueblood’s furniture. “I give up,” said Steel with his voice muffled by the table.

Blueblood’s asinine reply to that got cut short as Brave Bolder used the opportunity to move forward and point hopefully at the bottle of rhum. “...Prince Blueblood. May I have another shot at that alcohol you mentioned?”

“You may,” he answered, dumping the content of the bottle in two large mugs. “I was in fact prepared for this very moment. Pass the second one to your comrade, would you?”

“Thank you,” Brave said before downing his in one shot and slamming it before him.

Shaken, Steel lifted his head just enough to see Heaven’s Respite lingering a few hair lengths away. His leg snaked away and caught it with surprising speed, pushing it to his lips. Alcohols cascaded to his throat and on both sides of his mouth, staining his coat and even splashing over his precious armor, but he clearly didn’t care anymore.

It was hard not to laugh, so obviously I did.

The mugs scrapped against the table as they were pushed. “Another. It’s not acting nearly fast enough.”

With something of a dutiful expression, Blueblood poured on more of his personal stash.

I will admit, their reaction kinda made me proud of myself. Not sure why, but dang if it hadn’t been fun. “Gentlecolts,” I called for their attention with my darkest voice, “you have barely scratched the surface of my world..."

Steel Crescent did not even bother with words that time. His hoof was wordlessly lifted in front of his prince, with very little care for protocol, and he held out his distressingly empty mug.

Blues kept the comments to himself, but his eyes told everything, and his smirk was just the cherry on top. Still, as long as he kept pouring, Steel and Brave wouldn’t have much to complain about. Their worries faded away with every ounce of courage that washed over their tongues.

And the amber liquid swirled many times more in those mugs of theirs before the end of the night.

Personal diary of Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood (to be kept secret until the day he last draws breath)

Year 1240 AU, Second Month of Summer, Third Day.

I awoke to a familiar, yet detestable sensation: an agonizing, head splitting headache. It was in fact nothing outwardly shocking, for I remain no stranger to hangovers. This one, however, was different. There were usually less property damage in my wake.

To put it succinctly…

Brave Bolder, naked and with a now bright yellow and blue tail.

Steel Crescent, sleeping under a pile of pink armor parts.

Havoc, dreaming of sheep while glued to the western wall.

Did I mention the wigs? The big heavy curly white wigs that everypony was wearing?

It was a minor wish of mine then that they had been conjured in some obscure arcane way and that there were not judges looking for their official uniform this morning. On the other hoof, that black silk robe was admittedly sinfully smooth and light to the touch.

As for the rest of my Royal Apartments, well, the gentle way to put it would be to say that Discord’s statue was probably weeping tears of pride.

Of course, the only logical thing to do when faced with such chaos would have been to roll over where I laid and sleep some more. Unfortunately, insistent knocks at my door drilled their ways into my sensitive ears and visited hellish punishments to my poor brain. Needless to say, a deep scowl had wormed its way on my face while I turned on the doorknob.

If it were possible, it would have deepened at the sight of that particular earth pony stallion in armor.

“Good morning, Captain Thunder Hoof.”

In other circumstances, I would have admittedly saluted. Not this morning. To raise a hoof would be akin to inviting my body to tilt and fall over. The last fumes of alcohol-induced blur still remained.

Captain Thunder Hoof’s muzzle wrinkled as he sniffed the air, and his impressive eyebrows lowered into the closest thing to a glare he was allowed to aim my way.

“Good morning, your Highness!” he shouted.

Oh the bastard… I could suddenly feel a demotion headed straight for his department.

“What would be…” I started, swallowing a bit more venom, “…your reason for coming here this morning, Captain?”

He sniffed again, this time more clearly my breath, and the glare faded. Instead, a twitch curled the corner of his mouth in a fake smile. “I see you haven't lost your habits,” he replied with near fatherly concern, then added in a much drier tone, “You were a good recruit, but you haven’t the nerves. Never did, obviously.”

I coughed as loudly as possible, rejoicing in the spittle that went his way.

Thunder Hoof stilled, his smile very much gone. Straight to business afterward. “A few of my soldiers have failed to report to their barracks last night.” His eyes narrowed. “Two soldiers, who were coincidentally assigned to your protection.”

“Ah... yes...” I said slowly, scratching the back of my head.

To be truthful, I was confused as to what to do. They weren’t really my concern. Though, on the other hoof, nothing in this world would have made me happier than to be obnoxious to that old gelding.

So, “I am sure you are well aware of my new charge, and what his capabilities are.”

Captain Thunder Hoof nodded, but his gaze shot daggers at me.

“Well, last night I required assistance in dealing with him, so Brave Bolder and Steel Crescent bravely provided their help.” To better show off my point, I sidestepped.

Thunder Hoof raised one eyebrow, and gave me a look. Disapproval rolled off him in waves. Even now, no longer a young private, a prince and member of the royal family in my own right, he seemed to be barely stopping himself from giving me an earful about the state of my room.

Instead, he spoke with a somewhat strained voice, “The prisoner is wearing a wig."

“He is.” I replied, taking off the judge outfit that was still sticking to my skin. “And I have no idea where it came from.”

For a few seconds, there was blissful silence that didn’t feel like a sledgehammer to my forehead.

“This whole room stinks of alcohol.” His tail twitched. “And I see my stallions sleeping over there.”

The condescending smirk slipped on easily enough. “It was a well-deserved reward for hard work and a logical attempt to retain sanity.”

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “What a bad joke, Prince Blueblood. Do you expect me to believe that fable of yours?"

I affected a wounded stance. “Do you honestly believe that Brave would have a bright yellow and blue tail if insanity hadn't occurred? Surely, even if he was drunk, he would never have agreed to that.”

The way Captain Thunder Hoof scoffs really was even more grating in the morning. It was just that inane, raspy and rough sound that wanted to explode but didn’t. It made my headache worse every time.

“Sounds like those two idiots got drunk to me.” He poked my chest twice, forcefully, enough to make me almost stumble backward. Stupid alcohol. “And we both know your reputation, Prince Blueblood.”

My eyes narrowed.

Oh. He went there, didn’t he?

“We all have our vices, Captain,” I replied in a low voice, “and I'm sure the bright lights of Las Pegasus would be a good reminder for you.”

His ears flattened, and he bristled. The first word got stuck in his throat, likely a very last second restraint on something he would have doubtlessly regretted later. The glare he sent instead spoke highly of his desire to punch me in the face.

I pushed on, speaking through gritted teeth and challenging him. Dare, you old gelding. “Your guards did not party, they were aiding me with the prisoner Honest Havoc. Do you doubt my words, Captain? Do you suddenly think me so loyal to two random ponies that you have sent to guard me as to bother with a lie?”

“Ah!” He laughed drily. “Right, I suppose your story is indeed more plausible than that!”

He stomped, signaling for a few more armored ponies to step inside. They went for their two sleeping comrades.

“I will be taking my stallions back now. And leave fresh ones at your door, of course. We wouldn't want him to get dangerous again.”

This, of course, meant that Havoc had felt a silent cue to make his presence known again, this time with a weak gargling snore and a oh so threatening sneeze.

Thunder Hoof’s eyes lit up, glinting with amusement, as his guards proceeded to pick up both Steel Crescent and Brave Bolder away. The taunt in his gaze challenged the very notion that Havoc could be dangerous.

I kept my face stoic. That poor fool.

Havoc proceeded to snore again, only this time in a crescendo, growing from simple normal everyday snoring to a rumbling like thunder and storms and bloody explosions. It was loud, enough to send his squad in high alert and bring our drinking friends out of their coma. Loud enough that ponies passing by might hear in details the chanting and mad rambling within. I welcomed the way it compressed my head into a painful embrace, just for the look on Thunder Hoof’s face.

I could have – if I had been quite a good deal more wasted – kissed Havoc for that.

No more words were necessary, but since I liked being thorough… “That was barely scratching the surface of what Havoc can do. And it is one of the lesser things, nothing to be alarmed about.”

I could hear his teeth being grinded together from where I stood.

“I'm sure...”

“Have a magnificent and lovely day, Prince.”

“A good day to you too, Captain.”

And that, more or less, was how the morning went. Thank you for listening, diary, it felt quite good to vent on this. I really do not see eye-to-eye with those military types anymore.

Addendum: In hindsight, I am certain that seemed almost nice of me to defend Steel and Brave, but you would be wrong. Those two were never my responsibility. I just… it simply played out like that by chance. What were the odds, right?

…

...Celestia damn it… now I’m wondering about the bull frog again.

Fine Diplomats

The following few days happened in something of a blur. As it turned out, alcohol in excess rendered me temporarily blind. By which I mean that sometimes I could not see a thing and sometimes I could. Luckily, it was the latter more often than not.

Or maybe I was just blinking.

Maybe. One could never be too paranoid during their everyday life, as my current predicament proved. There was still much for me to learn.

Pouting, I whined as I pulled on my suit's sleeves. “Bluest B, this thing is too tight!”

The sounds of hoofsteps stopped in the great hallway as the one and only prince of the unicorns gave me a flat, unsympathetic look. “Well, there was no time to find a new tailor, Havoc. We are already late as it is.”

My adorable pout turned into an ugly scowl, and I pointed an accusing claw straight at his face. “Hey! I’m not the one that caused the problems this time!”

Blueblood stepped back, his face scrunched up in indignation. “How was I supposed to know that my trusted tailor, the one with the best tastes in ties, was actually a changeling in disguise trying to assassinate Celestia and Luna?” He then blinked and facehoofed. “I never used to say those things before you came into my life…”

“Nonsense! I have only a positive influence on you!” I declared, crossing my front legs, a squeak coming from the stretched fabric over them. “Besides, don’t change the subject here. Your tailor was obviously a bad guy from the start and you were blind. He proposed pink polka dots suits. Surely you must see the evil in that?”

Of course, princeling attempted to deflect with a weak excuse. “That was merely him attempting to buck the trends and be imaginative.”

My eyes narrowed. “And how do you explain the creepy cocoons of evil mucus in his evil backstore?”

“I didn’t! That’s why we arrested him!” Blueblood shouted, wildly pointing at the smoking tower through the window. I could see the blood vessels pulsing on his neck. The poor bastard probably had high blood pressure. He seemed to notice, as his face returned from red to pure white and he deadpanned. “Incidentally, it’s also the reason why your only suit so far is a little tight around the forelegs. You won’t say it’s a bad thing we arrested him, right?”

Curse him and his explanations! How was I supposed to complain and whine more when he used the goodness of my heart against me? All I could do was gnaw at the insufferable frou-frou coming out of my sleeves. And those were tasteless bouts of hoofstitched tissue.

“Do you want access to the buffet or not, Havoc?” Blueblood asked, making my blood run cold. “No suit, no meat buffet. It’s for people in the attendance only.”

I saw it then, the moment where Blue plunged his evil hoof inside my pure and virgin chest to pull out my heart. It beat bloodlessly within his grasp and I felt the world crumble into ultimate darkness.

“No buffet?” I squeaked, tears gathering in my eyes.

“If you don't wear your suit.”

I fell to the ground, my soul crushed, my hopes and dreams stomped upon. Why? WHYYYYYYYYYYYY?!

“…But you have your suit on, so you get the buffet,” Blueblood said with a small, embarrassed smile. “Not all of it, but you get to eat some of it like everyone else. Now, can you please stop sobbing? I just saw a couple of very important dignitaries gallop away…”

Glancing in the same way Blue did, I saw the backside of two very very dressed ponies. Truly, it was hard to distinguish their rumps and their tails from all that colorful frou-frou. I was beginning to suspect a conspiracy. With a look worthy of an agent of her majesty the princess – Praise the Sun! –, I stood up, the trail of bloody tears gone from my face.

“Very well, oh my prince,” I said in a formal, amazingly suave demonic voice that made Blueblood’s eyes widen nervously.

However, as he tried to express his groundless concerns, he was interrupted by the much more ground-shaking rumble of the ballroom’s great doors. A sliver of light filtered from between the slim parting of the immense, towering pieces of metal, and soon a thunderous voice boomed after a burst of trumpets and harmony. “Announcing his Majesty Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood and his charge, Honest Havoc!”

The doors finished opening over the ballroom, who looked to be filled to the brim with colors and colors and a few ponies in-between. Those were covered in jewelries and fine pieces of fabric so elaborate they looked like sculptures, and my, they trotted around with their muzzle slightly raised. Was that a secret trotting technique they taught unicorns?

The burst of jealousy in my chest dampened at the sight of the handful of non-ponies in attendance who all seemed to be ignorant of it as well. Phew, I wouldn’t be inappropriate tonight. What luck!

Blueblood did not return my grin, and he took the lead with a strange wooden step. His deep blue eyes gazed upon the many nobles speaking around as he sought some pony or another. I merely followed, waving whenever a noble looked up at us and frowned in jealousy.
I was quite the handsome stallion, I had to admit.

But alas, Blueblood was not as magnanimous as I and I caught him glaring at those ponies and their poorly concealed envy of me. His tone reached sub-zero temperatures when he stopped near a young noble that had tried imitating me. “May I help you, Marshall Market?”

“N-no,” the poor stallion shook his head, his green fur paling.

Blueblood’s glare turned into a fake smile. “Then, perhaps you might find a use for yourself somewhere else, dear marshall.”

The pony scampered away, his tail tucked between his legs and the nearest guests all making a wide berth to completely avoid contact. Once he had disappeared from sight, those around returned to their conversations, though I found their cheers and pep completely inappropriate after the loss of their dear friend.

However, then struck the most delectable distraction.

I caught a wisp of heavens in the air, something of spices and glorious blood floating from the other side of the ballroom. In front of me, ponies parted, their noses scrunched up in distaste. And so the shining, glistening buffet was revealed to me in all its beauty. Red and white, and crispy, golden skin and crust and oh the sight of the cooks behind the table as they worked their magic.

My mouth watered enough to fill an Olympic pool, so it was only logical that it dripped to the floor like someone had tilted a fountain. But who cared?

Guess.

A dry stitched tissue pressed against my mouth and I blinked and looked down at the blue-ish aura surrounding it.

“This is not quite the time to satisfy your stomach,” Blueblood said, flinging his personal tissue in a servant’s empty plateau. “There is a new foal we have to greet first, Havoc. Do you remember what I taught you?”

I tilted my head to the side. “About...?”

“About greeting the new unicorn princess, Shining Delight. Do you remember?” he asked pointedly.

I bit my lips and drew blood. “…Compliment the parents?”

For a second, he opened his mouth as if to say ‘no’, but then he brought a thoughtful hoof to his chin. With a very small smirk, he nodded. “Yes, and welcome the foal into the world. Mostly that second part.”

I could not help chuckle at that. “I don't think they want my welcoming.”

He blinked. Seconds later, I felt his hoof gentle on my shoulder. Something strangely kind lit up in his gaze. “...Why don't I just do it and you can watch?”

My wings fluttered as something like warmth began to fill my chest for some unknown reason. “Yeah. Lead the way to the baby, Bloosh. I'm following you.”

Thing was, despite our goodwill (mostly mine), there were quite a few ponies in here. Blueblood could be craning his neck and keeping a sharp open eye around, the foreigners still all had very colorful outfits. Some of them even hid their faces behind masks. Talk about not wanting to be recognized at the event of the month!

On the other hoof, I was dreadfully envious of the peacock mask I saw on a passing stallion’s face. Every gem, every piece of fabric melted together in a prism mold detailing the pony’s traits. And that was merely the littlest detail on him. Blueblood, with his simple white suit and blue tie, almost looked dreadfully underdressed.

Such a shame that his tailor was secretly a changeling. I shook my head, holding back a sigh. At least that guy had taste when he wasn’t purposefully being evil.

Speaking of evil, a small cry of shock rang to my ears as somepony bumped into me and fell to the ground.

“Oopsie.”

The pony, a mare richly dressed in a costume not unlike a giant puff cream, groaned with a high-pitched voice from the ground. Her nose scrunched up, she blinked around in disdain.

“Qui a bien pu oser...?”

“My most sincere apologies...” Blueblood said, “my charge is not known for his grace.”

She stood up and frowned. “Your charge?”

For the first time, she seemed to notice me, my fangs and my general monstrosity. Her stomach jumped in her throat, and she turned an interesting shade of green. The word ‘monster’ floated on her lips, silently uttered, as little by little, she tried to back away.

“Yes, my charge.” Blueblood strangely insisted on me being his possession. The bastard shot a pointed look at the mare, and she nervously smiled. “Duchess, let me introduce you to Honest Havoc.”

Her teeth grinded together, she fought not to run away. Very slowly, hesitant, she offered a shaking hoof to me. “Honored to meet you.”

For a second, I stared. Then, a twitch running alongside the side of my head, I grinned with as much charm as I could muster. I bowed low and took the polished pink hoof and brushed my lips against her fur. “Oh, hey ma'am. Real nice to see you.”

She flinched back and lowered her hoof to the floor. “Yes, yes, of course…”

Still offended, of course.

Clearing my throat, I lowered my voice to an outright suave and manly tone, and offered a good-natured wink. “Sorry about the bump.”

The duchess seemed to hesitate for a second, her pupils shrinking a hint while her cheeks took on an interesting shade of red. But then, her lack of countenance caught up with her, and she seemed horrified at herself. Her gaze first flickered to Blueblood, before going back to me with a smile like a Barbie doll. “Mais c'est tout pardonner, hideuse créature.”

Blueblood, for some reason, flinched just outside of the mare’s sight. He likely hadn’t understood what she meant at all, for he fixed her with a glare.

It had happened so fast I thought I probably imagined it. In a second, his face was again the image of a snob, like always. Back to normal, thus, he nodded to her and grabbed my shoulder. “If you'll excuse us, Duchess...”

Pulled like that, it was rather difficult to follow well. I bumped into one or two nobles and one servant. The latter of whom profusely apologized to my great confusion. A few beads of sweat rolled off his brow and strands of his mane, as his words started to blur in a babble of platitudes. His shrunken irises focused entirely on the prince, likely because he was way too scared.

Poor stallion, I thought as my stomach dropped. Who wouldn’t be terrified of a monster like me, even wearing a suit? I pushed back the absurd bubble of laughter in my chest as the idea of a cheesecake in a suit flashed in my mind. No, nope, focus, focusityfocusfocus! Well, huh, maybe if I gave him something in return for his time… I looked down on my almost nude person, seeing only the chic suit Blueblood’s tailor had made for me. But a glint of red caught my attention. Not… not bloodlust, but a real, tangible ray of reddened light. Ah, there! Pretty stuff! I grabbed the arc-like brooch sown into my suit with my claws and ripped it out with a shredding sound.

“There you go!” I dropped it in the servant’s pocket with a grin. “Sorry for scaring you.”

His jaw, along with those of everypony nearby, dropped to the floor. Proper Manners started saying something, the word unworthiness being used somewhere in that speech, but Blueblood placed a hoof to his chest and brought his mouth to the young adult’s ears. Whatever he did, talk, sing, lick his eardrums, it got Proper Manner to bow low and leave.

Only when we were alone – with only a few hundred guests around us – did he look to me with uneasiness. “…Why did you do that?”

“I saw him in the hallways before. It’s like his first two weeks, he’s really nervous about getting the job. He needs the money badly.” I shrugged, happy to put the episode behind me. “Better be loved than fear, Macaroni be damned, and don’t get me started on hated. Hey, look!”

Blueblood turned, following the direction of my outstretched claw and gazing upon a large group of ponies near the middle of the ballroom. They were standing in a circle, as if hiding something from us. Whatever it was, it had to be valuable.

At the centered stood a couple of unicorn, the stallion of two shades of grey beaming and proudly boasting in his own language to the small crowd. Every so often, his hooves pointed at the bundle of clothes in the mare’s care, and his grins turned blinding whenever he did.

For some reason, I felt a twitch of pain in my chest at the sight of this young father. A few thoughts came to mind, and something like pale green walls and a nurse flashed before my eyes. But it all faded away too quick for me to grasp. Groaning, I shook my head, then gave it a couple of hits as one would wisely do their television if static appeared.

“Havoc?” came a faint whisper, and to my left, Blueblood looked at me with worry.

One eye half-closed, I ran my paw through my mane, flinching when it bumped against my horn. No need, I wanted to say. Or something, the thought already fled in shambles and things were growing a bit blurry, and there was laughter, mine and a stallion’s and a filly’s and a grandfather’s and many, many.

My claws grasped against something fleshy, dug into it.

There was laughter, indeed, but not mine. The tones were wrong, too haughty, not nearly psychotic enough. In a blink, my sight returned to focus, and I saw the group of nobles nearby all chuckling at the young father’s joke. But if I were in the ballroom, then…

I’d been holding Blueblood’s leg, hard enough to bruise. The marks on his skin, between the strands of white fur, were an ugly shade of bluish purple. My tail flicked as the realization left me with a burning feeling all over my face, and my ears drooped down.

“You did not hurt me, Havoc.” He smirked, almost scoffed. “I’ve dealt with far worse than a stone-like grip.”

My smile did not quite reach my eyes this time. A first for me.

Blueblood kept up his reassurances. “Just let me deal with it. It’s fine. I’m rather used to these meetings.”

And for some reason, that felt wrong. I did not mind the strange alien reactions that the guests were having to our presence, but I could still feel the tension rolling off Blueblood in waves. Just below the surface, there was a swirling ocean of frustration building in him, and he seemed unlikely to break that dam tonight. He’d just continue on with the fake smiles and the empty politeness and all those little things he does because everypony wants him to do it. Because he’s the prince. And princes are handsome things that exist just in case something goes wrong.

It took all I had not to snarl.

…Wait, if I were to have his thoughts, then I would also be ‘him’. So it would be him that dealt with it! Perfect! That was a flawless idea. With the intensity of a cockatrice in a need of a good meal, I stared at the back of his head, trying to project my consciousness inside his skull. I would know what he did know, and would talk with his voice and be the perfect gentlestallion if Rarity showed up!

…Nah, that wouldn’t be in-character. Foiled by my professionalism! I really would not be spared any humiliation.

Still, with a deafening pop, the world exploded, and I was suddenly Blueblood. Almost. Like, different suits, different species, one of us being a heartbreaker and the other a heartmender.

And it was amazing how much it looked like I was looking with my own two eyes at the scene unfolding. The ponies were tapping the ground in polite applause, sharing a few good words laced with grade A sycophancy. Their wall of snobbiness only parted to make place for he would was most stuck-up on the surface. Blue-Havoc made our way to the front of our group firmly, ignoring the muttered French insults floating around.

The stallion of the couple caught sight of us, and his eyes glinted as much as his crown.

He greeted him-us with open arms – front legs –, all smiles and cheers. “Ah, Votre Altesse, Prince Blueblood.” He gave a nod, still keeping his playful grin. “It's an honor to meet you.”

“As it is you, Prince Shining Steel. Your visits are always waited with much anticipation in Equestria.”

“Oh, do not be modest.” He rose his cup of wine and delicately hit it against Bluesbrothers’ own. The crystalline chime-like noise rang across the small assembly, and many of them tilted their heads and glasses in unison. “We have heard of your reputation, even as far as Unicornia.”

He winked to the assembly, and they chuckled.

“You are quite the personality,” he said as he took a sip of his cup. “Un ivrogne, as we say back home.”

Blueblood’s magic tightened its own on the cup. The glass made a low, faint whine as it cracked. Nopony else noticed, luckily.

“Un peu dépravé et idiot aussi, à ce qu'on dit,” Prince Acier Lumineux’s gorgeous wife added with an approving smile.

Blueblood’s smile stayed frozen. “I am surprised you know so much about me, considering the sparse contacts between our countries.”

“We get some of the local newspaper.” Shining Steel waved a dismissive hoof as way of explanation. “We find them quite interesting.”

“Well, you cannot believe everything you hear.” Blueblood firmly gripped the hoof he offered, and shook it. The Unicornian Prince winced, his leg shaking just a little, and the corner of his lips moving down a inch. “There are always unscrupulous ponies to spread a bad word for a quick profit.”

Shining Steel flexed his front leg discreetly while trying to keep up a good unshakable front. “Oh yes, hearsay and rumors are such nasty things.” And there, his grin reminded me of something from a timberwolf’s mouth. “Why, just the other day, I heard that you were still refusing marriage proposals to respectable families. Absurd, I know."

The look on Blueblood’s face could not have been more strained. “Completely. When a stallion offers his daughter as if she were but a fine piece of vegetable, I would hardly call them respectable. As the highest ranking mortal in Equestria, I would hardly turn down a respectable proposal.”

Shining Steel's arrogance faltered a bit. “Yes, absolutely. We're not living in the Dark Ages.”

“Good families nowadays know what their duties are,” his wife cut in with a self-sufficient smile.

The stallion was quick to bring his mare to his side.

“You’re absolutely right, my sweet wife.” With a grand gesture and a small bow, the young father made his family step forward. “May I present you my wife, Haute Classe, and our daughter, Délices Lumineux.”

For the very first time, we both got a good look at the little one the mare had been holding. The precious clothes were unfolded, leaving a window for the face of the most adorable baby ever!

And here Blueblood’s eyes softened, going from an icy blue to something like a peaceful sky. Delicately, a brush of magic pushed aside a strand of silver hair from the baby’s face. “A fitting name, I believe,” he said kindly.

His smile grew wider even when the filly yawned up, and blinked up with wide grey eyes.

“She will be the most beautiful lady in all the lands,” High Class boasted.

Honestly, considering her current cuteness, I sort of agreed there.

Shining Steel chuckled, a hoof readjusting the crown on his head. “As my heir, she will have that and so much more, ma chérie, everything she could ever hope for.”

The two nuzzled, and for an instant looked to be truly in love with one another. My unfeeling evil heart melted in my chest at the sight.

A few more teasing words were exchanged between the two alone, until Shining turned back to us. “And you, Prince Blueblood, do you not wish to secure your line?”

The goodwill that he had accumulated with the sight of the adorable bundle of gumdrops and ice cream that was Shining Delights evaporated on the spot. “Of course,” Blueblood said with a sharp tone, “foals are a joy, a joy meant to surpass their parents in everything, but for that to happen the right mare is needed.”

“Of course, the right mare.” The stallion’s eyes glinted with a mischievous glee. “It's all a matter of attraction and... de puissance, j'imagine.”

At this point, Blueblood was likely praying that Celestia gave him the strength not to slip something into their drinks. Whether that something was more alcohol or a deadly poison, I could not tell yet. The dark side’s allure probably would get stronger within moments. And then, then he would realize they have cookies and fall into the abyss.

It would fall to me to jump in that big hole in the ocean to find him again.

High Class and a few other lightly chuckled, oblivious to Blueblood’s test of moral strength. One noble rather loudly coughed into his cup of wine. In fact, it sounded as if at least ten ponies were chuckling at the same time.

Ten? I blinked, and somehow my intense efforts of imagination crashed as the stray thought broke my concentration. I was, after all, still here, right? A few whispered sounds, all echoing and distorted, confirmed my theory.

“Hey, Blueblood, how much longer?”

The ponies froze on the spot, as if suddenly remembering that I existed, had a brain and a tongue. Their attention all shifted to me, and I felt a little nervous.

Play it cool, Havoc. You are a glacier, a special snowflake!

“Hi, you have a lovely hat.”

Shining Steel blinked slowly.

Encouraged, I pointed at his face. “It goes well with your teeth. Congratulations.”

More ponies were blinking.

At long last, Blueblood got out of his shock, and he stepped forward. “Ah, I am sorry, I have not introduced my charge.”

They eyed him suspiciously. “Your charge?”

“Shining Steel, High Class, this is Honest Havoc.” His magic grabbed me forward. “Perhaps you've heard about our small, incident?”

High Class nodded widely. "Ouiiiiii, l'incident où une bête étrange folle à lier a libéré la discorde et les princesses d'Equestria n'ont pas eu la force de finir l'ouvrage."

Shining Steel looked at Havoc and offered his hoof. However, as he glanced down, he suddenly changed side and grasped my pony hoof. "Vous êtes donc celui dont la mère est une mule qui a baisé avec une chimère?"

Feeling the friendliness in his tone, I grinned and shook his hoof like a good gentlestallion. Just as I finished it however, I felt a wave of murderous intent run over my spine. Blueblood? What was wrong with him?

“We will be on our way, Havoc, unless you have something to say.”

And the universally spread sneers told me they really did not like that I was taking so long to do it. Oh ponies of little faith. My manners were impeccable. Everypony else was just confused.

“Well, yeah, the good manners, what kind of bastard doesn't even observe that much?” I turned toward High Class. “I love the smell of your shampoo. It’s like a hint of a tropical jungle in a French restaurant.”

The mare opened her mouth to give a falsely sincere ‘thank you’, but stopped as if unsure. Meh, my sophistication could be a little much. A curse. Well, there was a much more important pony to talk to now.

I leaned closer, staring with wide curious eyes at the cutesy little thing there. Her little hoof reached forward, and she booped my muzzle, sending my heart into overdrive! That is so adorable!

Squee.

"Elle est à croquer!" I shouted.

A dead silence fell over the noble ponies.

Strangely, they look very, very pale. High Class’s face had lost all colors as she held her baby much closer to her chest.

Sweat pearled on Shining Steel’s coat as he stuttered, “Y-y-you speak Prench?”

“I understand your confusion,” cut in an insufferably smug Blueblood. “Havoc is a very unpredictable creature and very little is known of him. He did however do a great deal in service to our nation.”

There he paused, for no other reason than to let them gulp nervously.

Then, sadistic like he was, Blueblood innocently remarked, “I hear he bit Discords' head right off.”

The thought made me giggle.

“Bluuuuuuuue, can we go now?” I grabbed his sleeves and pulled. “I wanna eat meat! It’s your fault you made me think of food. I’m starved!”

High Class seemed to be on the verge of fainting, her body leaning heavily on her husband’s shoulder.

“Of course, dear Havoc.” He nodded at the other nobles. “Good evening Shining, High Class, little princess.”

We had barely took ten steps that we heard a muffled ‘thud’, followed by a high pitch shriek.

“Acier!” cried out High Class.

Oh, he fainted. Poor stallion.

Silently, so much that I could barely even hear it, Blueblood snickered as other ponies rush past us. How insensible of him. I almost told him when he grabbed my shoulder to give me an amused look. “Havoc, I do believe that was the most fun I've ever had at one of these dreadful things.”

Huh… “Really? This place is kinda boring...”

“Very, excruciatingly boring.” He nodded in agreement, but quickly his serious expression melted away as he cackled quite evilly. “But the looks on their faces… I shall remember till I am old and senile.”

“What look?” I asked as I approaches the buffet's parts intended for griffons.

Blueblood, taking a step forward in the line, waved it off. “Oh, nothing. Diplomats are very good at hiding their emotions after all. I'm not surprised you didn't catch it.”

He’s probably right, I shrugged and followed behind a big brown griffon. Still, something’s bothering me.

“Say, Blueblood, do you understand French?”

“Prench,” he corrected, “and yes, I do.”

Aww crap, had I really mentally projected myself into his head to get on his level but missed because he somehow knew a popular language used by medieval nobility? Darn it all to Tartarus and its fiery and freezing confines!

“So they were actually telling you you are a depraved drunkard and an idiot and an impotent with no charm?”

“Indeed they were.” Blueblood nodded and agreed with a clipped, falsely cheerful tone. “They also added some unflattering comments about your mother and a chimera amongst other insults on your existence.”

“Oh,” I said, “that’s what I thought.” A lesson for another day, I guess.

Ahead of us, the burly griffon moved and I was given my first up-close glance at the buffet.

“It’s Christmas!” I squeaked.

And I had been nice!

Licking my lips, letting my snake tongue taste the aromas in the air, I leaned against the table. Every dish had such gleam to it that soon rose an harmonious symphony of angels and saints. They sang the glory of the lord chef that had prepared the death in three days and risen them from the ovens. I could let myself get lost in contemplation of such a beautiful sight, alas… it was not to be. Grunts and cries of distress cut through the music, and the charm was broken. With a blink, I turned to see the source of such blasphemous actions.

Five ponies had fallen to the ground, groaning and whimpering in pain. In front of a few others, one lone unicorn glared at my behind with a thin blade of metal engulfed in a cloud of blue magic.

“Blueblood?” I curled my tail over my rump. “Why are you holding a sword?”

He ran a hoof on his forehead, wiping a thin sheet of sweat, and sighed in relief. His brows still furrowed in a frown, he reluctantly sheathed his weapon. “…I was dueling your tail. It started wagging, a lot.”

“…You’re weird, Blue.”

If looks could kill, the floor would have exploded. Blueblood growled, harsh and gritty, “When this is over, I am going to mail exploding cakes to Luna. I don’t care if it means prison, she will know at least a fragment of my suffering.”

Leaving him to his angst, I started piling up the juiciest picks in my plate. “Yeah, yeah. Do that, Blue.”

Unfortunately, in my quest for perfection, I overshot, and bumped into the next guest. The tall, towering figure sniffed and glanced at me. Behind his sharp, pointed beak, his stormy eyes glared at me. The griffon’s claws twitched.

Blueblood stilled, a look of horror on his face. “Havoc…”

A moment, I remained fascinated by the griffon’s sharp claws, looking so much like my own. It put a grin on my face, and I found it easy to hold my hoof and paw together for a bow. “Honor on you and your ancestors, Ambassador. May the Northern Winds carry you to your home after many battles."

Under his breath, Blueblood seemed to be muttering things like “must not question it.” and “sanity at sake”.

The griffon looked between the two of us and snorted. “And honor to you as well, strange pony.” His eyes fell on my plate, full of lamb chops and barbecued chicken legs. An instant, I felt the need to pull back my precious food away from his grasp, but he had no more interest in it. “I see you have a taste for the finer ingredients. Though I imagine that might explain the fangs I see. What pony breed are you, strange one?”

My mind blanked. Sheepish, a wing shrugging, I turned to my jailor. “...Err, Blud? Which am I again?”

Blueblood, after quickly copying my salute, raised his voice, “ Ambassador you are looking at a one of a kind creature known as a Draconicorn.”

“A unique one?” the griffon repeated. “How interesting.”

“Eh, not really.” I pushed a rib inside my mouth, twisting it besides my fangs to shred the precious meal over my tongue. “Except me getting most of the meat supplies in the castle. Score for the carnivores!”

At that, the griffon chuckled and nodded in obvious approval. “I am glad to have met a ponyfolk with some sense.” He glanced back at the princely unicorn silently thanking the gods and the demons for his luck. “And to whom do I have the honor of meeting?”

A quick rasp clearance of throat indicated his nervousness. “I am Prince Blueblood of Equestria, ambassador, and my charge is Honest Havoc. It is both a pleasure and an honor to meet you, may your talons be ever sharp and your beak at the throat of your enemy.”

The griffon’s beak twitched upward, and he nodded. “I see.”

For some reason, the ambassador seemed to be placing a good deal of attention to the content of our plates. While Blueblood’s was still empty, his had a few slices of roasted ham. And what was I doing in the meantime? Why, falling on my back and eating as much as I could.

I was vaguely aware of a white hoof overhead reaching for some of the meat and bringing it to an equally white pony’s mouth. Sort of, after this, I dove into the poultry section, wings fully extended and my grasp firmly on a dead volatile.

They said something about politics by the time I had emptied the chicken of its content. Honestly, it wasn’t that interesting. I could eat all evening long without ever paying a lick of attention to their basely concerns of good trades, good relations and international cooperation.

But THEN, then something else interrupted us, and it was something I could never in good conscience ignore.

A baby cried.

There was a blur of colors. Without thinking, I had jumped out of my den and galloped at full speed until I was face to face with the most adorable little grey eyes.

“Awww, don’t cry, Smoopy padoody! You’re a big filly, right? And everypony loves you lots and lots.” I made a funny face, and licked the tip of her nose. “Well, you know what, my little filly? Uncle Havoc’s got a nice big surprise for you.”

My paw went to my back, where I had intelligently put a plate of emergency food.

“Wait, Havoc, don’t –!”

“Here, take this,” I said, pulling out the treat I had saved for her.

The baby girl looked at the magnificent T-bone steak dripping blood in my grasp, and she sniffed curiously. I hoped with all my heart she would understood the realm of delights that could be open to her. It was a bit of an acquired taste, I knew, and even if her mother had gone white, Délices still leaned closer to the meat and tried to smell it.

She hiccupped.

A strong blue magical field yanked me backward, and the steak with it, just as the filly’s mouth opened wide and a thick oozing white liquid sprawled out onto her mother, her unconscious father and the two nearest ladies.

Their eyes all rolled back, and they collapsed dramatically into a heap of pricey clothes and fur. Délices Lumineux sat upon her preys, gently held straight by some fellow’s green magic. And thus the strong defeated the weak, as per the law of the jungle. Three kills before her first word. That was impressive.

A young earth pony mare apparently thought so as well, as she rushed to the baby’s side and held her against her chest. Her gaze fell on the parents, worry and incomprehension mixing together in her tone.

“What happened?” the mare asked, looking at Blueblood and me.

I shrugged, eyes still fixed on the babbling baby and the fallen adults. “It’s the circle of life.”

Blueblood made many strange coughing sound then, repeatedly. With a grin on his face. And he tried to hide the fact with a hoof in front of his mouth. And Twilight’s Quesadila! Some other twenty or so poor fellows were also the victims of such coughing fits.

Perhaps it was the smell of Shining Delights’ amazingly potent liquid projectile. Oh yeah, I thought with a wince, that definitely could kill a timberwolf from a distance. Blueblood’s speech about a pony’s dangerousness did come back to mind, with quite a good deal more credibility now. An elderly dragon fainted somewhere nearby, the ground shaking with his fall. All hail the princess!

At my sides, Blueblood smirked despite the rancid vapors, and humbly bowed to Délices’ nanny. “This filly truly is the most delightful thing I have ever had the chance to see. I am incredibly jealous. Tell her parents as much when they awake from their peaceful slumber.”

With that, Blueblood proudly strutted to the staring griffon, his face the very image of politeness and virtue.

“Now then, ambassador, about those treaties…”

--

Later, Blueblood offered me all the booze I wanted. I still have no idea why.

--

Observatory Journal, by Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood.

Entry # 4

If Princess Luna were to order me to let go of my duties in regards to Havoc, I might feel sincere regrets. Surprisingly, he has proven very useful in more than one occasion.

…And Sweet Celestia! I will never forget their faces. I will cherish tonight’s memories until the end of my life. I have already contracted a memory specialist to crystallize it in a viewing gemstone via a projection spell.

But I must never allow Havoc to be near meat and foals at the same time. It will be one or the other.

P.S. Buy a gas mask.

The Fair, the Fool and the Foul Fair

How did he start becoming aware of you cutesie patooties? Man, that takes me back. Like something fierce or gentle as the sleeping lamb. One or the other. I'm not that picky. As long as it once struggled to remain alive, it's meat, thus possibly edible.

But I digress. You would not think that events unfolded as they did, but really, Life works in mysterious ways that are closely related to bullshit. I mean, cowpoo. Buck, don't repeat it! NOT BUCK EITHER! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

...So this is how it ends, beaten to death by angry mothers socially conscious of their offsprings' language. Surprisingly normal, considering...

–

Bored.

Sooooo bored.

The mare in front of me had twelve pearls on her hat and sixty around her neck. Her mane was actually a wig and she smelled like outrageous wealth and REALLY outrageous wealth. The one next to her had twice that, except the smell. The one on the other side was actually a stallion, or a really masculine mare. He didn't smell half as strongly, but his hat caught the light in such a delicate way that one could not doubt his filthy rich ways.

It was taking every ounce of my willpower not to jump out of my seat and scream. Not that my cushion wasn't comfortable. Quite the contrary. You would think that Luna might put a spiked board instead of a cushion for me, its one rusty nail aligned perfectly with my..., but no. The silk under my furry rump felt sinfully smooth. So smooth indeed, that a mere twitch would make my whole body slide off it. Ice covered in oil could only hope to ever be half that slippery.

That much, however, could not make up for a whole seven minutes spent sitting down and doing nothing while waiting amidst a crowd of rich ponies. Wearing this damned… forever hated… froo-froo-ey suit!

I hated it! I hated, hated, hated it to its very fiber. I spat on its ancestors. I loathed the very base atoms that had had the moronic idea to ever be textile that would one day become this stupid, stuffy, SCRATCHY froo-froo.

Something smacked me upside the head. “Enough, Honest. You are going to destroy it” – WHICH WAS THE WHOLE POINT, GENIUS! – “if you keep this up and when you do, we'll have to go through another fitting session from Tartarus.”

There I smirked, showing off my first row of fangs. I could tell what a bluff that was.

No tailor had accepted Blueblood's patronage yet, unless they were a changeling. There probably was a reason for that, but so far I got nothing. It couldn't be his lovable personality, so at least that option was out. Still… Such desperate creatures had to have an end goal of sort.

Slowly, I rubbed my paw against my belly, trying to calm the clenches of hunger that randomly shot through me. We had been here for so long already… When were we going to get access to the buffet?

It's not that I was hallucinating the roasted turkey dancing or anything, but…

I very discreetly stage-whispered. "Why are we even here?"

Blueblood frowned. His eyes darted to the zebra behind us, who seemed mildly interested in our conversation. I could see the words stumble around in Blue's mouth, a falsely casual look forced on his face.

“Because this is the fair celebrating the ascension of Celestia's student to Alicornhood.” He motioned to the end of the throne room, where Luna and Cadence stood alone in their expensive dresses. I didn't like the colors. “It is a once in a lifetime event, after all. Anypony who is anypony – and I mean that in the figurative sense, Havoc, for goodness' sake! – must attend this kind of thing. And once the official proceedings are over, we will be free to enjoy the entertainments in the streets or in the gardens as we wish.”

Ascension? Wow… wait a sec... didn't quite get everything there. “Huuuuuuuuh.”

Obviously, the next second, as I was about to ask for more details with great eloquence, the doors to the throne room opened with a thunderous bang. Voices light and gracious rose from behind the doors, and a series of mares all dressed the same and wearing the same wig trotted inside.

~Princess Twilight... Princess Twilight... ~

Right, but who was this all about? I wondered even as I jumped in my seat to see above the sea of heads and hats.

“Calm down, Havoc...” Blueblood urged with great patience for once. “She'll trot by us in a minute at most.”

He was right. By the bloody guts of GHXETzzzFaRhksjdGT the Hideous! I got to see a mare trot inside, her dress regal as a princess', her horn supporting a crown like a princess', a pair of princess-like wings on each of her sides.

~Princess Twilight... Princess Twilight... ~

She really looked a lot like Twilight Sparkle too. More than a little even. If I plunged a claw deep inside my brain, I could probably salvage the memory of the time I met her in Ponyville and she called me a clown. Obvious friendship asides, that mare then and this mare now…

Really… REALLY…

And then, I blinked. And felt all my insides caramelize until they were stretchy and sweet. “Princess Twilight?” I wheezed out to Blueblood.

He nodded, his eyes still on the procession.

Oh no… I squeaked. The whole world felt tumbling down on me, with the weight of a startling realization destroying what little peace of mind I could ever have.

Lightning fast, I grasped Blueblood's leg and asked, frantic, quick, afraid, “S-she's an alicorn?”

A look of exasperation on his face, he whispered back, “Of course. She became an Alicorn, just like I told you. Numerous times might I add.”

“You never said that! You said she ascended!” I croaked as whole patches of the tapestry of reality came undone like old wallpaper. “I thought you meant she walked up the stairs or something!”

But no, up didn't mean up anymore. It meant to spontaneously sprout wings out of your back. How would the ponies ever adapt their language before the world was overrun by monstrosities covered in wings? The world would see disappear under a flurry of feathers and flappy thingy wingy.

Or… or worse, they would not spontaneously sprout wings and instead begin to live lifetimes of frustrations at their inabilities to become pegasi or alicorns! The world would be paralyzed from all the everyone trying to fulfill the orders of the new tongue and failing miserably! MISERABLY!

A good slap knocked the idea out of me. It bounced off on the ground, majestic and terrible, before it splashed into Lady Silk Trade's face. She instantly collapsed to the ground, tears soaking her very silky attire. “The wings will kill us all...”

A white hoof turned my head around, and Blueblood shot me a warning look. “No, and quiet please. Don't make noise, they'll hear us. The ceremony is about to start."

The chorus sang so loudly I barely even heard those last words. The bored stare I shot him in return did appear to make him, if slightly, uncomfortable.

A glass on the buffet table broke apart when they reached the name of the new princess. My ears rang a bit, blood dripping down the sides of my face. And still I stared at Blueblood, as if to tell him “they will hear us, huh?”

Blueblood, obviously questioning what he had ever done to the puppetmaster playing with his life to deserve my insightful observations, said something.

Of course, I never heard it. The music.

A few ponies were being thrown backward by the intensity of the singers. I had known rock concert that could learn lessons in vocals here. My own claws had dug into the carpet, and I still slid off a good few inches backward. The chorus climbed up higher and higher in pitch, until all was forced to bask in the glory of the mare smiling uncomfortably at the singers.

~PRINCESS TWILIGHT!~

For a moment of blissful silence, nopony dared say a word, for fear of discovering they had gone blind. Obviously, Princess Luna had been the one to choose the singers for this occasion. Considering Celestia's condition had only grown marginally better in the last few days… okay, I still would have liked it if her will had directed the singing.

“Wait...” I muttered, suddenly feeling as if I had forgotten something. “AH! Blueblood, you have to listen to me now!”

Now. Now. Now.

...My voice echoed, sure, but not that much. Oh. Right. Throne room, ceiling as high as inside a cathedral. Looooooots of room for voices to echo, specially if they're shouted. Like I had done. In the middle of the ceremony.

Maybe that was why Blueblood now looked frozen in horror. Even as I waited for an answer, he still did not move, except for his eyes. Those little pinpricks of the deepest blue twitched toward the throne, as if trying to tell me something.

I glanced toward the thrones, just in case maybe he had a point. The princesses stared, Luna at the front. Her brows had furrowed into a furious glare, her mouth a thin line twisted into a scowl. And her fur seemed a darker shade of ocean blue, closer to the endless abyss and the realm of monsters unrecognizable by the sane and happy.

Dire words of warnings floated in the air between us, and I flashed back to the memories of the trial, of her shouted words cutting through what little conscience I retained. She'd saddled me with BB after that, or the opposite. Her thunderous eyes said again, 'try me'. Now of all times.

But – I chuckled, a high pitch giggle mixed into it – those ponies did not understand. Not in the way the certitude had crawled over me. Twilight had turned into an alicorn. Did they not get it?!

Quickly, I let my eyes dart around. So many ponies were looking at us! I leaned in veeeeeeeery close, hushed, whispered, so that nopony evil would hear me. "Do you even know what this means?"

“It means that you will be quiet now and allow this to be an incident-free day?” Blueblood spoke with the dying hope of the fish stuck in a desert.

I took a deep breath, and whispered with all the serious I had, "Blueblood, I'm sorry.” I pointed my claws at him, then myself. “You and I, we have no agency. No free will."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this terrible truth. "Wha-?"

Full of compassion and blood, I patted his back. "I'm so sorry you have to learn it this way, but Twilight has clearly become a Mary Sue."

So maybe a few heads were turning toward us, curious and or angry, but there was no way to stop the truth from being known. The truth finds a way.

"Turning into an alicorn is only something that doesn't happen, my unicorn prince. So there is only one reasonable conclusion." I looked him straight in the eyes, no traces of comedy or irony there, as I owed him at least this little. The moment was very serious, very solemn, for I was about to shatter his mind and his perception of the world forever. “Blueblood...” I placed a steady hoof over his shoulder. “We are in a fanfic.”

Blueblood stared at me, his fear momentarily forgotten. I just had that big a magnetic personality. Even the dignitaries around us were entranced, so puzzled.

Blueblood kept staring. No, not exactly different from before, though at the same time, very much. Obviously, he doubted my mental capacities, as was normal and sane of him, but this time he almost looked worried.

"Havoc, Princess Cadence became an alicorn in a similar way…" he said slowly. "By unlocking new magic through great efforts and heroism."

Oh, sweet summer child, denial IS a river in Egypt. “Non-canon material doesn't count.”

"Non-canon?" he repeated, his head tilted to the side, his eyes near clouded by the confusion.

Some poor pony behind us clearly needed some cough drop, judging by the repeated and insisting clearing of their throat. In fact, they were loud enough to be considered rude, especially when they threw their head forward right in-between us. If I didn't know any better, I would think they were trying to get our attention or interrupt us.

Another cough boomed into the throne room, with an explosive strength that straight up murdered one of my imaginary friends. The angry shout that I had been about to let loose became a little squeak as I turned around.

Luna had murder in her eyes, and Twilight shot me a look of sadness and pity. Everypony else varied between anger, annoyance and pity. EVERYPONY! And a dragon.

Wait a second. This means I have everypony's attention! I thought and felt myself perk up.

Blueblood's magic tugged at my sleeves, and, tight-lipped, he tried to pull me down. “Havoc, it is time for quiet now, please...”

“OH POOR UNENLIGHTENED ONES!” I jumped to my hind legs and spread my front ones wide as if to embrace all of them. “LISTEN NOW, FOR THIS TRUTH WILL CHANGE YOU FOREVER!”

A blast of blue magic flew right past my head, exactly where I had been the fraction of a second before throwing myself onto a giant fainting couch. The poor pony it caught instead found themselves unable to speak despite frantic lips movement.

Tragic. And very appropriate.

Nonetheless, I continued. "We are all meaty flesh puppets dancing to the whims of a sadist! Free will is a lie! Destiny is the mad fancy of a writing monster!"

And oh behold, I was making myself sad. My past, my time inside the statue, the very real shackles that stuck me on the prissiest prince of ponies, all so for the laughter of strangers. Now, of course, I might not exist otherwise, but, okay, existing in itself might justify it.

“Aaaah! I can't take this anymore!”

With a mighty leap, I bounced off my seat and crashed through one of the painted windows.

And, huh, because screw him, one of Discord's. His face was ugly anyway.

Now, if I were to imagine, I'd say Blueblood would have looked horrified, the others incredulous, and you could have heard a pin drop. And its silent, deadlier cousin. And the void beyond that.

Hay, I'd even go so far as to think all sounds were being sucked into another dimension where Blueblood wasn't on the verge of fainting.

Clutching onto the dangling fragment of broken glass, I grinned despite the numerous cuts on my body. "Oh, by the way, Twilight, your dress is beautiful! I thought you deserved to know even if you lost all your free will!"

And just like that, the glass broke, and I went free-falling. Or enslaved-falling? Some way or another, the ground was kinda getting closer. Time to use the good ol' pegasus Feather Fall.

My wings opened to the clap of leather.

And to, strangely enough, my heavy sobbing and dramatic crying. "FREE WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL!"

I mourned it like an old friend lost.

It hadn't taken long for me to find a favorably disposed pony in the crowd that had gathered in the courtyard. So many ponies had come to greet their new princess, ignorant of the tragedy that revealed about us. But hey, if they wanted to eat snacks in a garden, who was I to say 'to hell with it'?

“Oh, hey Blues Brothers.” I greeted the murderous looking prince. “Are you okay? You have the face of a stallion that just got glared at by an angry princess and the rest of the kingdom's elite in a way that made your life flash before your eyes, which then got you to realize that you missed it playing the role of a flankhole for the good of the country when you really just wanna live on your own merits. Really, your childhood was by far the best period of your life, before your father died and your mother retired from high society altogether. But that epiphany, you careful ignore just in case it makes you cry. Oh, and if I read the slight discrepancies between the height of your eyebrows, you had to look for me for like fifteen minutes and you pondered alternatively tortures that would be inflicted on you, and tortures you would like to inflict on me.”

The sword he was levitating fell softly into the fresh green grass. “How could you possibly tell, my bestest friend Honest?”

“Subtle hints.” I put on a checkered hat, then blew bubbles out of a toy pipe. “Like the fact a few strands of your mane are on fire. That's either dragons, Luna or the bullfrog I released into the wilderness of Canterlot Castle.”

An ominous croak rose from the depth of the castle's bowels. Strangely enough, nopony but Blueblood and I reacted. And he wasn't even worried, just annoyed.

“...Havoc, if they didn't make you much louder, I would put a silencing spell on you.”

“Elementary, my dear Wats-Blue-white-and-black-all-over, Zebra falling in the stairs.”

Oh, I could tell from the way veins bulged on his forehead that his braincells were committing a massive suicide pact. “...Could you please… be drunk and sane, right now?”

“No, but don't worry. Violent executions were banned a few centuries ago by Celestia.” I shook my fist at the sky. “Praise the sun!”

“My aunt is knocked out at the moment. It may take a few more weeks before she awakens.” And he said it with longing, worry, perhaps something gentler and deeper in the flash of those blue eyes. “I would rather she returns to us quickly. Especially now that you're around.”

Blue lightning flashed from the window I had broken in the throne room. The crackle of thunder promised a good many things of pain and discomfort, something the green on Blueblood's cheeks told me he understood.

“As it stands, I'm going to die. You are going to die. Everypony is going to die.”

“And mules will inherit Equestria!” I whooped.

Two mules a few meters to the side joined in on my good cheers. Yeah! New world order! Down with the old blood, time for the new!

My previous interlocutor coughed to clear their poor obstructed trachea. “Fascinating social developments aside, may I ask who you are, Prince Blueblood?”

Blueblood's horn sputtered blue light, and a flower on the ground at his hooves violently exploded.

“I am, as you clearly said so yourself, Prince Blueblood.”

Yourself, as Blotjorkswen put it, was in fact a grey coated unicorn with a deep green mane and mustache. His little half-moon spectacles reflected the great intelligence found in this stallion. We had had an enlightening discussion in the few minutes that had passed since I discovered the truth of our universe.

“Yes, but that was merely what my senses told me. Senses are fallible as the ponies that possessed them. Your confirmation validates my sight while doing nothing to confirm my hearing.”

I snorted. "This guy's really cool. Like, he got what I meant in seconds."

“I strongly doubt that,” Blueblood growled.

The other guy shrugged. "It wasn't much. Ponies like to think about meaning, like it was a cushion."

"Yes, well Luna is going to swoop in and skin me alive in a matter of moments, so perhaps somewhere less public for my execution would be a good thing, hmm? I would like at least privacy while I spill the content of my stomach or of my bladder through the tortures she has planned."

“Oh Blueblood, sweet naïve Blueblood.” I gently patted him on the head. “Luna's more bombastic than that. It'll be like a lightning bolt from the sky. Don't worry about your pelt becoming a decoration.”

“You will excuse me if I would appreciate living longer.”

And there jumped in my new friend: “Our lives are naught but little fragments in the universe. There is no need to be so dramatic about its impending ending.”

I nodded with great vigor. “You're rather right, Fried Rice Niché.”

But before I could say more, a blue cloud of magic gripped me by the throat and pulled me away. To my great despair, my detective hat fell in the grass and exploded, just outside of my poor reach. Blueblood, unflappable, kept pulling me out of the crowd, to the curious glances of the general populace around.

“Enough of this gigantic, steaming pile of horseapple. We're going to put some distance between us and DEATH.”

“I'd...” I choked a bit, and oooh pretty stars from oxygen deprivation! “I'd just use illusions in your place.”

My body dropped down into the grass. I shot a curious look to Blueblood, who merely glared harder.

“...Hold still.”

Blueblood was still grumbling when we reached the carnival proper. Oh, the magic, the balloons everywhere! And the foals! The foals laughing and running around everywhere with fluffed sugar in their little hooves! Fairy Floss!

Cotton Candy. A most beautiful shade of pink too.

'That reminds me… I don't recall seeing–'

“Look!” I cheerfully pointed at the paintings hanging from the cafe's facade. “Beautiful things!”

Blueblood, currently looking the part of a maroon-slash-red-wine stallion, paused and gave a look to the café. Behind swirling motifs in the fences, surrounded by a few flower pots and curious clients, one pony traced a line of paint on a canvas.

Shrugging, BB led the way closer.

The artist, a blue pegasus with a rainbowtastic cutie mark, smiled under his marine-slash-abyssal-ocean-depth blue mane. Putting down his brush into a small bucket of red paint, he readjusted his equally red scarf on his neck.

“Come closer. I've got some good prices if you want.”

Staring at a tall deer-like creatures covered in green leaves, I felt a pang of envy in my chest. Oh. OH! I had to have this.

“Do you do ponies' portraits?” I asked, jumping with excitement.

“Oh, yes, I do.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “It does take a bit of time if you want a good colored painting though, and you have to stand still. Prices are on the chart there.”

Looks affordable, I first thought, before remembering that I literally owned zero bit. Something something about criminals and insane patients not having control of their finances.

So, knowing it was my only weapon, I gave Châteauneuf the puppy eyes.

Bits soon moved hooves.

Then came the time to have me choose a good pose for the painting.

Oh, I knew just what I needed to do.

I threw myself on a couch that came from the Void Beyond All Things. Its sinfully smooth surface caressed my back and eased me into a look that would mark the generations to come. My pose was so sexy it hurt. Especially the spine. Not meant to be twisted like this. But who cared when I could blind a tiger with my simply oozing sensuality?

None of my intense suffering showing on my face, I wildly declared, “Draw me like one of your French girls!”

Parents put their hooves over their foals' eyes. They had to be shielded from such sexiness.

Blueblood, the whorse, did not even react. “Prench, Havoc.”

This again? Oh, I'd not let him go around be ignorant any longer. “French, Bloobaddaeus.” I waved a claw at him. “You don't Prench kiss, that'd be silly.”

“Prench,” he repeated with a lewd smile on his face. “And it's rather nice, actually.”

I lifted my nose up in disgust. “You know nothing, Jon Blueblood.”

A calm and even voice rose in between our epic argument. “Err... sir... if you keep moving around, I won't be able to paint you.”

I forced myself to be still. For the Greater Good.

It did not, however, meant I would stop showing the truth to the uncultured heathen called Leon Polaris Blueblood! “Like, the country's called Prance, after a word of your fake English. As in, prancing around. And, you know, it really doesn't translate. What is the word for prance in French? Hmmmmm?”

Wary, frowning, Blueblood slowly articulated, “Caracoler.”

I grinned, and the voices in my head cheered. “Indeed. And nopony, them included, use that. But France has its own language, so why would they call their own country according to yours?”

He rubbed his forehead with a hoof. "Perhaps they are simply parallels of each other, so in this world it is called Prench. There is no logic to your claims, Havoc. Prance was founded by Prench ponies, certainly, but that doesn't mean–"

“Blah, blah, blah, you know the real reason!” My forelegs shot forward and I held Blueblood's face within my grasp. The poor soul was still unenlightened and determined to get out of that state. Well, no, it was my mission on this planet to share true knowledge with him. “It's the HORSE PUNS! Everything in this world is a horse pun!”

“Now that he mentions it...” the artist mused.

“No,” cut in Blue, freed from my gentle touch. “Don't you dare agree with him! In fact, don't even consider it. It'll encourage him.”

As if I NEEDED encouraging! So, soooooooo naïve, Blush Booze! Laughing, I threw back my head to laugh, and laughed!

“Our existence boils down to an amusing anecdotal comparison to the bodyparts of a whorse!” I paused for dramatic effect, then stuck out my tongue, "And I know which one you are."

Bluecastlevania stared for just a second too long, then held a hoof to his mouth to hide a quiet snicker.

Ah, got him. Thus, my excellent grasp on reality wins again.

Suddenly, I was pushed backward, a small cloud of blue magic around my wings, and Blueblood shook his head slowly: “My aunts be my witness, I'll never understand how you do it.”

With a smirk, I took on the sexiest pose in the world, provoking gasps of envy from a few stallions and twice as many of lust from the various mares in the streets. Blueblood just stood there, shaking his head. Oh, I had him. His fragile psyché laid in the grasp of my paw.

But since he was kind of a sore loser, Blueblood refused to admit it and rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, just get yourself drawn and painted. We'll use this as an alibi later, maybe.”

“The strangest thing,” the artist mused, “is that his spine should have snapped. Trust me, I know anatomy. How does he do that?”

“Willpower!” I grunted, my eyes twitching. Beauty mattered less than health!

Azure Plasma went and gave a faint smile. “Trust me on this, young stallion, if you question it, you will stop sleeping well at night. I know I have.”

Quickly enough, the amusement had drained from his face. Minutes into the painting, all that remained seemed to be a terrible melancholy. Longing in his eyes, Blueblood glanced in direction of his suite in the castle. I could almost feel how he wished for nothing but one of his outrageously good and expansive bottles.

Holding the pose became a tad more difficult then, because I really, really wanted to frown. But frowning is not as sexy as a gentle waggle of the brows. Cultural standards are bull.

“I can't believe you!”

I trailed after the fuming maroon tail and the rest of a stallion attached to it. “What? Don't you think my profile was nicely drawn?”

“Yes! Precisely!” he growled. “It was a skilled recreation of you, but why did you have to give it to that museum owner?! It cost me a small fortune in bits!”

“You're literally filthy rich.” I shrugged, readjusting my fake plastic nose, giant mustache and swirly glasses. “Besides, she looked happy about it.”

Châteauneuf paused, and I bumped into him prompts and accessories first. “What do you mean, 'literally filthy rich'?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

I grinned hard and wide.

He took a second to glare, unimpressed, then walked to a nearby lamppost.

And headbutted it with all his strength.

I, along with every nearby passerby, flinched. Hard. Holy… damn… he… the…

“Let's go,” Blueblood said, trotting with a slight curve to his steps, leaving behind the dented, half-bent lamppost.

In my world, there is hardheaded, like, your head made of stone or harder, and then there's being a pig and a mule combined through the unholy laws of anti-nature. I would thus need to reconsider which one fitted Blueblood best.

And we would do it here! I slowed down, lifting my head and sniffing to better take in the smells of frying batter, sweet sweet candies and brewing beer. Not a hint of ridiculously expensive perfume that was really just pressed fruits together! Only slushies and ice cream!

I felt my legs tense with the rhythm of a good ol' carnival beat, so upturn, so happy! And not any longer could I fight the impulse. I began jumping up and down to the beat.

Blueblood, on the other hoof, didn't.

"Say, is there a reason you look like you might die, Châteauneuf?"

Deep blue eyes gazed back on the castle, and his voice rose with a touch of hysteria in it. "Oh, no, no reason at all. It's not as if the Night Princess wishes to skin me alive and use my coat as a rug. I'm not just having to reconsider my sanity every five minutes. No, nothing Iike that."

I snickered. Oh, that kidder. "As if. Do you really think your coat is pretty enough to be hung from a ceiling into Best Princess' bedroom? Get real, Blues Free Jazz."

I paused, suddenly unsure.

“...Of the royal something... something." My claws scratched my head despite the illusion. "Kinda lost my thought there. Point: your coat, not that pretty."

He snorted and upturned his nose. "Of course it is, and it would be a long relished trophy upon her wall. Her most private guests would lay eyes on the finest coat in Equestria and thank their lucky stars."

Huh, I didn't think he had it in him, to be fair. Well, sorta, he was doing good. But no, right, yes? I bit into my claws, filing them on the flint fangs on the back of my mouth. "Soooooo,” I somehow said with great enunciation, “it would be for the greater good if she skinned you then?"

Blueblood blinked, then aimed a spectacular glare at me. The bush next to me spontaneously burst into flames. Though that might have been me.

Ah! Thought so. "Tsk, have the courage of your convictions, Bloosh."

His tail hit me in the face. Jerk.

But alas, words of wisdom prevailed. I turned my frown upside down, then sideways, then down and up again. There was a whole fair going around us! Stalls, food, cowboy hats, rollercoasters!

"I wanna go on the rides!" I declared, sounding suspiciously like a foal.

Blueblood rolled his eyes. "Alright, we can do that. Hopefully, Luna will think we're long gone and look elsewhere.”

Nodding, I saluted. "Lead the way, glorious leader who might or might not be Blueblood."

"You're going to do this every time I conceal my identity aren't you?"

I blinked. "Do what?"

Okay, now I was confused, what did I do?

Mid stride, the prince that usually looked very different gave a sweeping glance around us. "...Tell me, do you remember why we're out here and not inside for the coronation?"

Oh, tough one. I put a 'hoof' to my chin and mused it over. Come on, brain, I knew that. I was 40% positive I knew that reason. "I wanna say it's because we realized that our existences are nothing more than toys in a Crystal ball." Then, a little voice at the back of my mind piped up. "Buuuuuuuut, probably just because I had an episode. Not TV show, like, mental episode."

“About said toy existence, yes. And now we have a very angry Princess of the Night set against us.” He seemed to think back on that. “Even more so," he added.

"Magic smagic, Blue. Not gonna matter in the long run." I waved a dismissive hoof and made a magnificently adorable face. "Not if I'm riiiiiight." I trotted past him, springs in each of my legs.

“Please don't even joke about that..." He shuddered.

So, maybe, my smile turned a little bit pure evil. "Hey, it's a relaxing thought. To know not everything's your fault."

After a few steps though, I sneezed and a frog appeared in my hoof. Blinking, I handed it over to Blue.

"Yeah,” – I pointed to the amphibian with a grin – “like that, totally destiny. Glad that was somepony else and not at all a discharge of chaos magic."

“...Right.” Blueblood let the frog go. "But if we're all just puppets dancing on our strings it would undermine all the good in the world and make the evil that much worse. No one could ever truly be good, and all the evil would come from the puppet master."

I put stroke my chin with a wing that appeared bright yellow. "Why's that matter? Like, do you do good because it's what you can choose?” Blueblood's eyes hardened. “If you could only choose evil, would you do that instead of telegraphed good?"

“No, but what of the ones forced to do evil? What if they're trapped inside somehow and are forced to witness all their evil deeds, not having control of their own thoughts or actions?"

I smiled knowingly. "Are you?” I leaned in closer and tapped his forehead, just beneath his horn. “Is the real you trapped in there right now? Or are you just telling yourself that because that's how you feel?"

Blueblood's horror flashed onto his face. For a brief second, he looked as if he wanted to gallop away. His hind legs twitched back. Then, he gulped and swiftly turned around. He headed straight for the biggest rollercoaster in sight.

“It's only horrible if they know they're forced.” My grin turned slightly lopsided. "It's the great thing with illusions. Don't matter till you see through them."

For about three minutes, seventeen seconds, we progressed in silence, despite the plethora of sounds every around us. Only when we passed the arch indicating the beginning of the queue did Blueblood's heartbeat seemed to calm down. “It matters a great deal."

I tilted my head to the side. "Why?"

"Because... the ability to choose is vital. If there is to be any point to this world, then we must have free will. If everything is but a… a story, or a play, then the actors are worthless as soon as they step off the stage!"

I hummed as a pony with clown make-up and a giant red afro trotted by. Foals were gathering around them, the littlest ones immediately followed by their guardians.

"Who says there is a moment you step off the stage?" My eyes went back to BB, then past him to the beginning of the queue. "I mean, I'm clearly tap dancing in the backroom with the artists, but most ponies aren't."

With a shrug, I executed two or three steps, my reflection in the giant mirror that appeared all the more horrifying for my joy. Huh. That might explain why ponies were uneasy with me being happy. Those are some creepy looking fangs.

Blueblood briefly glanced at the mirror, before shaking his head and gathering his thoughts again.

"Every story has an ending, Havoc," he said.

Perish the thought. "Nah, just a moment the storyteller gets tired.” I lifted a chicken and a crocodile egg. “There's no end on a circle, you know?"

"But ponies die all the time,” he pointed out with a larger frown. “What happens to them?"

"They die." Seemed simple enough to me.

"Well then, their story has ended, now hasn't it?"

"But not everypony's story. You were talking about the story, not someone's story. You're kinda mixing things up here. Are we truly all so self-centered as to believe life itself cannot continue past our own feeble, fleeting existences?"

Okay, who had let out this epically loud sob? I may have been looking around, but I could not quite tell just saying the numerous pony tails ahead.

Maybe Châteauneuf was wondering the same, because he looked over my shoulder, as if to locate the source of the noise.

After a few seconds, he shook his head, and glared at me. "I have not mixed up anything, we were talking about individual actors"

“There's no play with a single actor.” The thought hit me, and I put a claw to my chin. “Generally. I mean, who knows what sort of modern, postmodern and retropostmodern stuff artists can come up with?”

...No, seriously. Who was making these dying seal noises?

I got my answer a second later, when a mare fell to her knees with a loud cry. Everypony around, us included, quickly moved to try and help the pearly white unicorn. And yet, she looked straight at me. The tears rolled down her cheeks. "I NEED TO GO RETHINK MY LIFE!"

Flash.

Gone, likely teleported, perhaps self-destructed.

I blinked.

Then, shared a baffled look with my jailor. "Huh."

Blueblood's face was bright red. My own felt a little like on fire.

We didn't say a thing.

I scratched my leg, feeling confusedly as if ducks would appear just to break the awkward. They didn't. "Wanna talk about cakes instead?” I proposed with a fake grin. “Inevitability aside, they're still delicious."

Châteauneuf let out a sigh of relief. "Very true, what's your favourite kind?"

"Mum's carrot cake." I rubbed my stomach. "Just thinking about it might make me hungry."

A shiver ran through my spine.

My tongue slipped out of my tongue with a hiss of longing. "Ever tasted like the moist soft squishy insides, full of carrot-ish taste with cheese cream frosting on top?"

Blueblood closed his eyes, a faint smile floating on his lips. He hummed softly and nodded. “I have. The castle has some of the best chefs in the country. Perhaps we could try to sneak in and get one last meal there later. I would be partial to a molten lava cake myself. Just imagining the chocolate oozing from within the cake's crust...”

That did sound rather – wait… With wide open eyes, I looked down at my belly, patting It with one hoof, the other cupped around my ear to better hear. And my horror was soon to be confirmed. Oh nooo...

Blueblood, to his small credit, actually reacted swiftly, grabbing my foreleg and lighting up his horn. In the time of the flash of light, I found myself stumbling around fresh grass, hooves and paw on irregular, soft ground. And either ponies could move a city really fast or we were really far away.

I fell to the ground, curled on myself. "COVER YOUR EARS!"

Blue sorta folded on himself, dramatically swooning onto the floor and closing his eyes, panting.

A snap of my claws filled his ears with giant bushes of parsley. Tall enough to rival a house. But hey, bull-headed stubbornness. He'd support it. Not to mention…

“Here it comes...” I whispered before the hunger struck me right through my midsection.

And rose from my stomach a noise, but a noise strange in quality. Not a roar or a howl, not the cry of a great lumbering beast, but a whinny. The screams of a horse neighing and bellowing at the top of their lungs, in something not unlike an opera. It was the song of the fat lady, repeated a thousand times throughout the age and finding its last place to die above the clouds.

And over the mountains, it echoed, fainter and fainter while it traveled the land, ripping apart trees and hills on its path.

I stared a bit in the direction it had left, and the trail of wanton destruction in the middle of nowhere. "Huh, so that happened." I turned around, hoping to know if he had a better explanation. "You okay there?"

Blueblood scowled, still on his back. "How did facing a pair of ursa and a canis major in single battle for ten minutes NOT prepare me for you?"

His whining aside, I sorta noticed we weren't in Canterlot anymore. Well duh, would say like Madam Bucket, but the important part was the plain grass fields that stretch as far as the eyes could see. The tiny white dot on the moutainside was Canterlot.

And we were all alone.

Blueblood could barely stand at the moment. It'd probably be easy to just trot into the sunset and leave my prisoner status behind.

The dry heave that shook Blue made my legs itch. Right. He was supposed to be responsible for me... Well, he wasn't doing a bad job, I supposed.

"Oh Bananas."

Blueblood didn't even speak up in indignation or curiosity. He was too tired for that.

I offered my opened paw to him, and the comforting weight of the yellow moon crescent fruit resting in it. It disappeared inside his mouth fairly quickly. For once, he did not protest too loudly to having nutritious things shoved into him.

With my amazing muzzle, then head, I slipped underneath his ample belly and slowly pushed him onto my back. "Sooooo, you ready for a flight back there? I still wanna go on the rides."

All I got for a reply was a tired nod. Good enough for me.

The squeaking objection that rose when I flared my wings open probably came from my own head.

“Here we GOOOOOOOOO!”

Observatory Journal, by Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood.
Entry # 5

I will admit to making a grave mistake here. The long distance teleportation should not have been used. A silencing spell probably would have been a saner option, if I had not been uncertain if Havoc’s stomach could bypass them. Regardless, the teleportation drained me of much of my magic, to the point I could not react well to the events that followed.

The coincidence is so perfect that were I not absolutely certain that he cannot in any capacity plan for anything, Honest Havoc would likely be a very dangerous mastermind.

As it stands… I was left stranded far outside of Canterlot in the countryside with only him as companion and my magical power depleted. And Havoc… didn’t run. I am not certain why. I… I do not understand. I know he is unhappy being a prisoner, but he just looked at me and…

I… I do not know.

There are so many things I do not know.

...

P.S. For instance, why is the world made out of horse puns?!

Author's Notes:

Whelp, originally, this was only the first half of a chapter, but seeing how it got way too long, it's only half, and it does help, considering this'd be the start of a small story arc anyway. So, a cameo by mix-up in this chapter, who, if you didn't know, is a really awesome mlp artist.

For reference's sake, he is the one behind my Dream of Many coverart, and well, this incredibly good representation of Honest Havoc.

Celebration Madness

The whole trip? Six minutes. For someone who was so tired, Bludwogen sure had incredible lung capacity.

But he really insulted me when we got close. Did he have to keep screaming?! I landed with the grace of a pudding blob falling onto a cushion made of kittens and clouds! That'll teach him.

His knees playing a maracas solo like a boss, Blueblood took a few unsteady steps forward. "Huh… thank you, Havoc."

I smirked. Gotcha! "Now who's using the real names?"

Amazingly, Blueblood chuckled in good humor. "It's not my fault you picked a very long one. Twenty-two syllables are excessive... And there are ponies who do have "Havoc" in their names.” He coughed. “Thankfully not many, but there are a few"

I raised an eyebrow at that, the image of a certain snake-like bastard coming to mind. "Really? What kind of parents call their children 'disaster' and the likes? Sounds kinda mean."

That line of ponies waiting didn't look to be shrinking anytime soon...

“Names are roughly given based upon the sensed magical potential within a pony,” Blueblood mentioned a bit offhandedly. “Or, for some of the oldest noble families, there are family names… especially when given to eldest sons and daughters. Blueblood is one."

I shrugged. "So, anypony out there called Dropout?"

For some reason, he sighed, as if expecting it. "Magical potential, Havoc, not actions"

"So, let me get this straight." I readjusted my thinking glasses on my muzzle, and gave him a good probing stare. "You ponies name your foals about their potential, you get cutie marks representing your special destiny, but the idea that there IS a greater will controlling everything is farfetched?"

He sighed, and there came the return of the slutty lemon face. “Controlling everything? Yes.” He puffed his chest, somehow managing to look as self-important as a prince of the unicorns while looking like a red glass of wine. “I would like to think my thoughts at least are my own.”

Meeeeh. Whatever. No way getting into his puny mind. I would just use my superior intellect to distract myself by twirling around this little strand of my mane.

Litterally two seconds later : "Are we there yet?!"

“For the seventeenth time, no,” Blueblood growled, and I whistled, impressed by his counting skills. “You know what? After this one, we're getting express tickets. I'm not doing this for every single ride.”

I gasped. "Express?"

Truly, could it be so?!

Blueblood nodded solemnly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

The divine harmony came from our left then, in a form most pink, and – if the blasphemous thought was permitted to me – smoking hot sexy!

"Did somepony say Expresso?"

For a single stilted second, stillness stopped my sight and sweat swirled down my skin. And I immediately broke into a squeal of silly, sappy happiness (in part to forget ever feeling like a statue again), that would have been a hiss had my tongue gotten in the way.

Oh, I knew that angelic high-pitched voice! The alliterations! The smell of sweet and salty baked pastries!

On the spot, I grabbed GrumpyMcGrouch and turned him around. A wide goofy grin split my face in half. The prettiest cotton candy colored-coded cake adoptee stood there, holding a big gigantic cylinder of metal. My higher brain functions told me that it likely was a thermos of expresso.

All swag and OHMYGOD SHE'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MARE IN THE WORLD, I trotted up to her, my voice smooth as melted chocolate. "I might have, my lady."

All the while Blueblood looked like he'd been found by one of the Element bearers, and thus Luna soon, Pinkie giggled and batted a hoof. "Sweet! I was really hoping somepony would accept the Cake's special coffee blend!"

A rich, low and demonic laugh rose from my lungs. “Ah, my sweet, to ever refuse a sample of anything you would offer, I would need to be a damned fool.”

Blueblood coughed loudly to cover snickers and snorts of laughter.

His indignant whelp when my tail slapped him – Ah! – should teach him to cut in on my swagger and my conversation with the most wonderful happy mare in Equestria!

And, to my worried delight, and the contractions of muscles in my chest, Pinkie Pie blushed a little, fanning a hoof before her face. I could go on a fifty days quest with the memories of her giggle then. “Hony, my, you're a bit more… confident than back in Ponyville! And you've made a friend with the prince too,” she added in passing to Blueblood, whose eyes looked slightly like saucers and slightly like sapphires lost in a bowl of ranch dip. “Friends are really important. That's great! I'm glad you could bring him over to your side.”

“Suave is my middle name, my lady.” I bowed low, and produced a very official scroll to offer for her beautiful eyes.

Pinkie's hoof let the thermos float in midair to continue pouring while she read my birth certificate. She hummed appreciatively as her gaze followed each word and line on the paper.

“Huh, would you look at that? Written black on white, with a few spots of red wax for the seals. Honest Suave Havoc.”

“Told you so, my sweet,” I hummed.

Blueblood, or Château-oeuf, was bartering with a street merchant over the price of their whole stock of painkillers and various other remedies against headaches. Or so he said in a snide and deeply tired voice.

Whelp, no point in trying to understand how his strange mind worked. Down the hatch the coffee goes!

Mhmmmm, I can taste the energy.

“Wait a second,” Blueblood muttered with a horrifying realization. “Havoc, coffee?! Oh motherbu–”

I didn't hear the rest, because Pinkie whistled, and who can focus on a jerk like him when she was around? "That's fast. Wasn't it hot?"

Angel! Pure angelic grace! And oh, I could not stop smiling if I wanted to. “...Not as much as you."

Pinkie let out a soft gasp, then giggled again, a cutesie wootsie blush on her face. Swift as a bolt of lightning or a puff of cartoon logic, she rummaged through her mane and, seconds later shoved a thermometer in her mouth. The little red line didn't climb very high. “Oh Honey, my body is perfectly normal. No fever whatsoever.”

I snorted, a circle of smoke coming out and then turning into a heart over my head. Skills, people.

“Sweet Celestia, no...” whispered Blueblood.

Like all reasonable ponies, we ignored him. “More expresso?” she asked us while batting her eyelashes rapidly.

Now, my brain was all in shambles, and my stomach might have a twin because biology – while also being full of butterfrees –, and maybe I was just a little bit out of it feeling like floating on a cloud, BUT Gary Motherbucking Oak Version 4.3 did say that eyelashes were a sign of flirting. And oh hotdogs in the skies, my knees were a bit weak. Dreams coming true felt less blissful than her smile.

I might be also be swooning a lot.

I nearly bumped into Blueblood, who seemed to be praying with great fervor. He was currently lighting up a seventh candle, which may or may not have been placed into a circle and a pentagram. “Please, by all that is merciful, don't let them breed. The laws of physic and magic can't take that much violating.”

Wait, I was getting distracted! Bad Havoc! Focus on the pretty pink Pinkie. "Yes, pretty please with cherries on top, and sundae underneath!"

Pinkie oohed appreciatively. "Wow, didn't think somepony else knew about the best please ever."

I could not help but puff out his chest and strut around a bit. Celestia! Must show, best side! "Ah, that's the mark of the ponies with the best minds, or, huh, hearts, maybe?" I scratched the back of my head, sticking my tongue out. “One organ or the other, anywho, and it's like the signs of knowing the greatest please of all times.”

More delicious caffeinated liquid coated the inside of my mouth. It gave a kick, and my heart fluttered some more. I could lose myself in Pinkie's dreamy smile.

Pinkie, seeing a very satisfied potential customer, jumped next to Châteauneuf and nudged him. "And you, Princy? Want some extra special super deliciouriffic expresso?" To my everlasting jealousy, she winked. "Heard you need the energy too."

His horn glowing, he made the cup float to his lips. After a sip or two, his stance straightened a little, and his eyes looked, if tired, a bit more alert and calm."How did you...?"

"Pinkie Sense."

He blinked slowly. "Uh-huh..." he muttered in a vaguely disbelieving tone.

Oh, that would not do! “Blueblood,” I hissed in his ears with a guttural growl that could make a third circle demon cry, “it makes perfect sense and you will say as much, right this instant.”

His ears twitched a bit. "W-well she had to know somehow… so why not?” He cleared his throat. “Pinkie Sense. Obvious in retrospect."

Pinkie frowned and stared alternatively at him and then at me. “Hmmmm...” A peppy quiz music played in the background, until she leaned closer to me with a look that was not entirely happy. “Hony, are being threatening?”

I let out a very nervous and jumpy chuckle. Suddenly, I held a puppy and a candy cane in both hooves. “Me?” Angelic chorus go! I ordered mentally, which didn't work for some reason. “Nooooooooooooo...”

Pinkie frowned and stared. She was so unto me! And not in the way I could ever dream of! “Hony...”

I managed the puppy eyes maybe a second, two tops. After that, I slumped and dropped my head to the ground, while the puppies exploded. “Maybe,” I whimpered. “I just wanted him to be nice to you.”

The scent of sweet cinnamon and vanilla just filled my nose as I saw nothing but the prettiest pink fur. The gentlest warmth seeped into my shoulder, my neck and the side of my head. "Thanks, Hony. I know it wasn't from a bad intention.” She pulled back a little, then booped my nose. “Just remember that it's always better to keep smiles on ponies' faces.”

I grinned.

“Yup, like that. And now, I gotta go! Toodles!" She waved goodbye and pronked away.

I found myself following her progress very very intensely, and when she finally disappeared around a corner, I became oh so dizzy. My love! Gone, for maybe the whole day! NO NOOOOO NO. Slay me, wicked temptress, before submitting me to such torture!

Torture! TORTURE! What had I done besides a whole lot to deserve it? And my friend became a white rock on which to grab till the passing storm, but no, never, the sunlight had become an insipid thing, and my still beating heart, a shriveled husk that was more machine than proteins and nerve tissue!

“I breath in the last of your scent of sweet vanilla, oh my fluffy cotton candy, and with the last of you, the last of me dies.”

And to the wet eyes of my audience, I closed my eyes, lost what little kept me standing and collapsed onto Blueblood. It would have been perfect, but the weakass punk crumbled to the ground instead. There went my whole dramatic swooning!

“You really are unreliable in my times of greatest need, you realize that?” I pouted with all my masculinity. “Of all the times to let me down...”

“Oh walk it off, Honest.”

“Walk it off?! How could I ever… when… when it's her?” I said wistfully, sighing and looking into the distance. A smile split my face in half, so wide I just could not stop smiling. She had blushed! Pinkie Pie, party pony extraordinaire had giggled and hugged and maybe kissed my cheek a little!

Bubbles of comfortable warmth popped in my chest. I felt like I was floating on a cloud!

“Honest Havoc, for goodness' sake, get off this cloud.”

~ Ooooooh ~

BB facehoofed with both legs. “Really? Now?”

Not like I could help it. Every little voice inside of me begged to be freed, and to sing the glory of this magical feeling within my heart. How could I not? And oh behold, the most suave of all voices came to the front.

~Only love! Oh Loooooooove!~

Ponies joined in chorus. “Oh Love!”

I fell back on my cloud, drifting amongst this crowd of so many ponies that were not her. Drifting, because she was not around me.

~Oh what is this vision? The most beautiful mare in the world!

Oh cruelest beat of my heart! I'll never love anything else...~

On the ground, of course, somepony could not hold their tongue for my serenade. “...The line is moving. To the beat of your singing."

~Are we destined to be apart? Can I not see you again?

If you told me to leave, I would, but from this world.

There is nopony I'd rather live for, not even myself! ~

A bunch of mares said goodbye to their loved ones climbing into the roller coaster's cart. “Looooooove...”

~Oh, your smile would be worth it,

But you saw fit to withhold this sunrise from me

What am I to do? What am I to loooooooooove?~

Blueblood bowed his head to a very old couple nuzzling each other. His horn lit a brighter shade of blue, the same as my cloud. We moved faster into the line.

~Oh, who? Who, if not you?

Please, my sweet, my love forever

Tell me, one day, in front of that altar…

I let my voice trail off, falling into a fake silence from which everypony hung to my lips, waiting, knowing. They were there now, they could see Pinkie and I, clothed in pink and pinker, horn rings and bracelets waiting for the two perfect words.

I would lean. So would she, and at that moment, with light falling in her hair, she would say...

“I do.”

For the longest time – seven seconds, the time it took for the echo to die out –, nopony dared move. Their gazes were all on me, on the tears of blood threatening to spill from my eyes. The song now over, its charms slowly broke apart, and the ponies regained control of themselves.

It started with a single clop. One hoof, beating on the ground. And another, joined by two more. Soon, the entire line applauded.

I grinned, and leaned a bit against Blueblood's shoulder. "You think Pinkie likes me?"

“...She was flirting fairly heavily for a first encounter," he said, very hesitant.

Oh, I could just hug that big flankhole!

And I did!

One hoof awkwardly pushed against my back. The poor thing, not used to love, was he?

I would have to find him a better prostitute. And possibly arrange a series of whacky, improbable events that would lead to them falling in love for real.

“Havoc, stop plotting something evil right this instant!”

Sputtering, I whined and hid the plans behind my back. “But I have nothing else better to do!”

“Yes, you do.” Blueblood ripped the paper apart and gestured to my left. “It's our turn to step into the carts.”

I could have sworn there were more groups ahead of us. Weren't we in a long long line waiting for a ride? How had we gotten here so quickly?

The look I sent Blueblood probably contained all this confusion, for he smirked bitterly. “Your evil whispering scared the foals away. Most parents took them away.”

Okay, had there been foals here before? And surely, if I looked through my memories of the last five minutes...

I rolled my eyes. "A likely story."

“This is a fair, Havoc. You must always act as if they are present"

"But I always act as if foals are presents! This is a kid's show!" I crossed my front legs together and pouted. "Like, if this were strictly adult setting, I'd say a lot more things about how pretty Pinkie is."

“Well, I suppose I could thank Aunt Celestia for this small miracle...”

I shrugged. "Yeah, so instead, I'll be singing it later tonight."

“WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME, CELESTIA!?”

Well, that's unnecessarily dramatic, I thought with a pout and climbed into my seat.

Another pony came from our left, and reached for our safety belts with his olive hooves. Once they clicked, he seemed satisfied, not that I saw his face. His mane had mostly fallen over his eyes, like an earthy brown curtain.

This could explain his very slow, mechanical walk. It's not that I wanted to compare him to the undead, but he was just like the undead.

“Are you alright?” Bloodhaven called, to which the attendant mumbled under his breath unintelligible things.

And pulled the lever.

Steam flew off from underneath us. Two clouds rose from the sides of the wagon, and we jolted backward in our seats. Creaks shrieked from the railing, as slowly we moved forward.

The ride was starting! YES!

And to start things off, the attendant gave us a very blank look. The traditional “Enjoy the ride” I heard in every amusement park ever instead sounded like “Nb vmgriv yvrmt rh ztlmb .”

Oh, foreigners.

Who knew one would be the attendant for this Canterlot exclusive event of the century? It's like this thing was planned for tourists and the likes. Curious.

Grinning, I turned around to greet the other passengers on the carts.

“Hey there, say, I was wondering. Do you know if the coronation was planned like, years in advance? As part of a complex plot to allow Twilight Sparkle to fulfill her destiny and become a great guiding light for Equestria, and then the world?”

The ponies in their seats gave me blank look, as if dazed. Or better yet, brain dead. Yes, yes, there was a particular lack of spatial, temporal and general awareness to the unmoving irises, and the lack of reaction when the green pegasus mare didn't react to the fly landing on her eyeball.

“Hftzi rh gsv dzb lu oruv ,” the mare and her partner replied in unison.

“Ah, of course,” I nodded. “Thank you for these words of wisdom.”

I would have been content leaving it at that, seeing as our cart's was nearing the top of the first peak, but Blueblood, of course, had other plans. "Sweet Celestia... Havoc, we have to get everypony out of here.” – right now?! – “Somepony must have placed them under a spell."

Blueblood nodded to the helpful couple behind us, and there I recognized is inherent hatred of all that is peaceful and gentle. Their blank gaze stared at nothing over the sky, and none of them spoke anything about the beginning of this carnival adventure. I mean, the stallion sort of reacted when the wagon jolted, but more like a reflex, maybe. Drool dripped on their chins and on the wagon.

I tilted my head to the side. Yeah, I don't see it. "They look fine to me."

Blueberry Muffin's growl sounded very much like somepony out of patience. "They're blank eyed, stumbling around like young foals and chanting!"

~Hftzi uli gsv hftzi tlw ~

“So what? I like singing too. Hay, you like singing too!”

~ Kzhgirvh uli lfi gvvgs~

“Havoc, that was different, we were at a mission at the opera!”

~ Dv sfmtvi uli xfkxzpvh ~

“And you pulled off the role of the main actor like a pro. Almost like you knew every line and every song – WHEEEEEEE!”

The whole argument was forgotten, for the world shifted at high speed with wind slapping our faces and the rail digging into our stomachs. And up, and down, and to the right, into the loop!

And more shaking, though from Blueblood's grip on my shoulder. “Havoc, this is no time for enjoying the ride! These ponies are in danger!"

"How so?" I asked. "They're just sitting in a ride."

Their legs swung in the air, just as ours did, once when we got into the loop. Hay, they cheered just as loudly as I did!

“Praise [REDACTED]! Praise [REDACTED]! Praise [REDACTED]! Praise [REDACTED]!”

Perfectly normal.

Blueblood disagreed. “They are also chanting in a strange language in unison! They're not screaming or anything!"

I pouted. "Rude."

Blueblood's hooves grabbed my shoulders, his eyes hard and his mouth turned into a thin line. "Don't you find that odd in a roller coaster?"

We were reaching the peak of the highest slope. And the world below, this great checkerboard of tall pristine marble buildings everywhere and their rich purple roofs, the ponies below and their balloons, the peppy music, faint over the distance... all of it made a nice sight.

And, okay, maybe the passengers of every other cart on the roller coaster were looking a bit too indifferent to this. Carnival fair and overblown roller coaster rides should bring a giant smile on all their faces! Especially in a world where flight was a personal ability a third of the population shared!

He got me there. "Okay, so it is pure unnatural behavior, but it's not really that bad! Like, they're just saying cupcakes over and over again."

The wagon slowed down on the top, almost stopping completely. Blueblood and I were treated to the sight of an almost vertical drop.

The coaster itself seemed to creak.

“THAT is a sharp drop...” I pondered with a scratch of my chin.

“Cupcakes...?” I heard Blueblood repeat next to me. And then, like, the little twitch under his eyes he got when things really went stupid? He got it so in spade a deck of card would call for a fourth of its soul back. "Havoc...."

Our bodies lurched forward with an ominous jolt. The wheels under the wagon gave their song of oily creaks.

“Yeah?”

"I think you may have put a little too much spirit into that song of yours..."

“Do you have any idea how hard to sing that had been?” I hissed. "Like, I had to use four voices in ultra high pitches just to add the subconscious message!"

If looks could kill… Blueblood would have reached master class assassin. “Havoc!”

“I've got ten voices! I sung with only one! It's not like I had a choice of what to do with the others!”

Now, I would have explained further the great mechanics of speaking in reverse and in imperceptible pitches, and it was really smart and impressive, but… well… we had just gone over a peak in the roller coaster. So, logically, one thing came next.

The cart dropped. And too suddenly, whatever conversations we had thought to hold became secondary. We were going… fast.

Eyes drying.

Lips flapping the wind.

Our whole existences flashing before our eyes.

“Look on the bright side!” I shouted to a paler-than-usual Blueblood. “If we die now, Luna won't be able to skin you later! Isn't that great?”

“Delightful!” He threw his legs in the air, finally getting into the spirit of this ride. “I'm only going to drown in my own vomit under a broken roller coaster! Why would I ever be unhappy?!”

Exactly.

Besides, just ahead... at the end of that downward descent to Tartarus, was a loop. A BIG loop. I prepared the squee.

Blue… didn't quite react as well. “That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't used magic to control the minds of the attendants!”

A pout twisted my lips as he grossly misattributed the blame of this tragic turn of event. “I didn't use magic!”

"You didn't have to apparently! Those messages must've worked on them instead of you!"

Ground was almost upon us. It really was unfair that I had to use my last few minutes of fun on this cruel world explaining stuff.

"How could I know brainwashing was a thing in Equestria?!"

Wait, was that…? OH NO! Panicking, I grabbed BB's face and made him turn 90 degrees. "PICTURE!"

Behind us, ponies shouted, "SUGARCUBE CORNER!"

The world disappeared for me in a gigantic, blinding flash of light. So intense the shade of white, my descendants would be feeling the dots swimming before their eyes till the fourth generation.

It's like a crime against eyesight!

I, ahem, whined in an extremely stallionly manner. "Not my beautiful eyes!"

Why was my back suddenly getting pulled against my seat...? Leaning backward... backward...

The world tilting…

Blueblood whining, “Now, where were we? Ah yes,” he yelled, "you brainwashed them!"

"I just sang a bit! It's not my fault my vocal chords contain fibers of pure Madness!"

Oh dear, Canterlot's roofs looked really far from this point… How high could a roller coaster go? Answer: in the land of magical ponies, apparently very high.

Despite not caring about that – or perhaps speficially because he cared about that and didn't have wings –, Blueblood rounded on me even harder. "You implanted subliminal messages in your singing on purpose!"

"I was trying to do that on myself!"

The wagon accelerated.

"Honest, that's not how subliminal messages are created! You cannot consciously send a subliminal message to your own brain!"

And that was just so unfair! "Why not? I could have remembered to see her again!"

“That's not how it works, Havoc!”

Something wet rolled on my cheeks. I inhaled sharply, but the air decided to bitch me and get stuck there. "I… I wanted to make sure I wouldn't forget about her... Like everything else..."

Listening only to his courage, Blueblood dared moved a hoof beyond the security railing of our wagon... and it somehow landed on my shoulder. His… his smirk didn't seem all that mean. "Havoc, if you want to remember something, then tell me. I'll be sure to remind you"

"Huh... err... party canons?"

I could feel Blueblood's puzzlement emanating from the curve of his left eyebrow. "Alright," he said as if he had a clue of what I meant by that. Which would have been pretty amazing, considering I didn't.

"No, no, something else…"

It was on the tip of my tongue. I just knew it… something something green turtle with a rainbow colored owner...

"AH! Tanks!” I snapped my claws. “Thanks!"

Ah yeah! Make way for Grammatica El Havoc!

Blueblood didn't, because this was still the rollercoaster of DEATH, but he sort of smiled, just a little, and his hoof gently patted my back. “It's no trouble, Honest.”

Whatever more words I had for him jumped a hundred feet up my throat, then fell back in, with the jostling halt of our wagon atop a metal hill. The first two wheels of our cart hung limply in the air, the weight of the train behind us the only reason we still hadn't been introduced to freefalling.

A strange itch in my wings, I passed a leg around Blush's shoulders. "Okay, hang on now."

I heard Blueblood's mind shatter with fear, followed by “this is against regulations”, right before the cart dropped, and so did we, unto the tracks of terror and terrible maintenance.

The vibrations were not good chakra-gakarakaga thingy whimsies that spas recommended daily with a nutritious meal of two nuts and a lick of cream cheese. They were more like drifting alone downhill amongst a field of rocks and landmines on a crappy soapbox. With Bulk Bicept giving you a massage midslide. And possibly a dragon or two trying to breath flames on you.

...Now I kinda wanted to try that too.

Crack.

My neck hurt now.

A lot actually.

That was likely one of my vertebrae… And I should be worried about that. Maybe.

Not a ride I would recommend for the whole family. So, before I was kinda guilty about those hypothetical foals Blueblood tried to make me believe existed, but even then I would have saved all those little ones from neck ouchies.

Or bucking death, I thought as my head fell backward limply. The sky above tilted erratically left and right without warning, with every curve of the coaster like being sent flying as a ping-pong ball. And I sorta couldn't lift my head up.

Definitely a broken neck, appraised Madam Bucket over the furious whistling screeches of the wind in my ears.

“I'm so gonna sue,” I mumbled while the wagons began a loop. “I liked my neck.”

And right now, the gravity was pulling at it straight down. The rails stretched far past the upward corner of my eyes, like one big red vine sprouting from the sky into the ground. Red… for some reason that made me thirsty.

Then, with a sudden 'clack' that was about as reassuring as meeting a stranger in a trenchcoat on a beautiful sunny day, the train made to push forward, and we were gone again.

It would be hard to describe it. A cone of air formed around the nose of the cart, the sound barrier was broken, we might have gone through a black hole and returned, and Blueblood might have ended up crying tears of fear. The point was…

“Havoc, this is no time to be depressed. We have to get off this thing before the denizen of the Lower Realms operating this monstrosity pulls us along for another ride.”

Oh, so we did reach the end, and with only most of our lunches still in ourselves.

Now, if only I could get Blueblood or Luna to trip in that, it'd be glorious.

As a genius plan that involved fireworks and a tuba player formed in my head, I felt the harness click and free me from this actually pretty fun rollercoaster. My hooves fell onto solid ground, and with a good stretching of my muscles, those of my shoulders and neck in particular, I looked up to the wide blue sky still shining on us.

“Well,” – Blueblood proudly stepped outside, acting as if his legs weren't shaking – “now that we have gone on a rollercoaster that escaped from the bowels of Tartarus and only lost a fraction of our previous meals in the process, may I suggest fixing everything going wrong?!”

To help his point and be dramatic, surely, the ride blew out steam while a high-pitched whistle punctured our eardrums.

Shrugging, I said, “Sure, that was funny.”

He seemed willing to let it slide. For now. Instead, he focused on around us, that big empty platform with the exit line.

Tumbleweeds rolled in our paths. Yeah, there was not a pony in sight, besides us and our fun times ride compadre!

“~Cupcaaaaaaakes~” groaned the disheveled orange mare, nicely stretching her front legs toward me. For a hug. D'awww!

And, as her warm and kind embrace near closed on me, colors flashed right on the edge of my sight.

“Hey, look at that!” I pointed to the stands next to the exit, then dragged Blueblood over there.

Amongst the dozens other pictures exhibited, our eyes found the one that had a nicely contrasting combo of red, white and grey.

I shot a wide grin to the princeling. “Looking pretty good there for a stallion crying for his mother to save him. You managed a charming grin and wink in a split second.”

“Reflexes,” Blueblood grumbled, his face a faint shade of red. “Mere reflexes.”

“And hey, look, the zombies are also making silly faces.”

I had to crack up at the wild, furious bloodlust in the mare's eyes as she offered a very poor smile to the camera. Like, sorry ma'am, but if your jaws are so far apart, it just looks like trying to take a bite out of my head.

Blueblood scowled only for a moment. Then, his expression turned to absolute glee and, ahem, sincerity – AS IF! “Oh, look, this charming couple are fighting in the backseat over a grain of sugar. How very normal for ponies.”

Now, I was crazy and occasionally blind to sarcasm. The key word being 'occasionally'. My face heated up as if on fire, and it was not a good feeling. There probably weren't many, other than dragons, that enjoyed breathing fire on each others' face. “Ah, huh, yeah, bad stuff, right?” I lowered my head to the ground at his blistering glare. “Yeah, bad stuff. Sorry.”

Where were everypony anyway?

The three or so that weren't in the wagons were looking around, with a lost look in their eyes. Nopony else seemed to be wandering around. Just minutes ago...

I stepped into the street following Blue.

Most of the stalls had been abandoned, the good toppled or left for nothing. In the streets, nopony around, the balloons floated barely above the ground or far into the azure. Bags of carnival food littered the pavement, as if dropped in a great haste. The same tumbleweed rolled through the street, carried on by a wind that blew nowhere else.

For Canterlot, this didn't look very normal. There could only be one logical explanation to this.

“I bet we've traveled to another dimension of a look-alike Equestria where everyone has reversed morality!” I stretched my hoof to Blueblood, who stared blank faced. “Oh come on, it's totally plausible. I'll even betcha a creature from between the first and second dimensions.”

Maybe it was his conviction of being condemned to die today. But his face scrunched up and wrinkled up as far as physically possible as he sighed a lung or seven. “Honest, for the love of the sun and the stars, what would I even do with whatever that thing would be?”

I shrugged. “Well, I suppose you could conquer the world.”

Blueblood… paused. Completely. The air around him sort of stopped moving so he could properly freeze right where he stood. And his brow ninja'd into his mane, his jaw clamped shut and he seemed to hate himself for even giving it a thought.

His leg kinda bucked a barrel into a wall. Yikes!

“Right, right,” he breathed in deeply. “You're you. Let me get this straight: you own abominations that can conquer the world.”

“Yeah, it's the only thing those damned not-creatures are capable of doing too. I asked one to deliver a love letter, but NOOoOoOOoOOOo, if there isn't world conquest involved, they suddenly turn into cats. Remember the grey one that always sits on the third window in the guest hall?”

Blueblood's illusionary face turned so white that he more or less looked exactly as he usually did.

“No.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Are you sure? Because you petted it once. And it liked you.”

Blueblood's snarl was suddenly very close to my face. “Honest Motherbucking Havoc, I am telling you, no, I did not pet a monstrosity that may or may not be a gray cat with a tuft of white fur on its tail. It did not happen and I will fight that truth to the ground and grind it into fairy dust.”

I shrunk. “O...kay...”

I wanted to sing about that river in Anugypt, but even I wasn't that crazy.

BB was cackling. Deep and throaty and suave with a touch of madness to it. I mean, I was envious as Hell, but it wasn't normal that the sound he produced made me shiver. Discreetly, I took note, because the stallion had some sweet hidden talents. I could respect that, especially from a somewhat safe distance.

“Oh no, I will not be skinned alive by Luna!” he belted with a singsong voice. “I am going to strangle her first! And I'll plead insanity! And Havoc will just stand there talking for five minutes and they'll personally kiss my hooves just for lasting this long!”

Note to self: clean BB's hooves.

“Maybe we should investigate the cause of this ghost-town-ness first?” I suggested slowly.

He smiled something that wasn't a smile at all, all his facial muscles twitching, and he began trotting at a brisk pace. “Of course we should. We won't find brainwashed ponies from this general direction where we can hear panicked shouting.”

An unearthly howl rose from the lower streets. "CUPCAKES! MUFFINS!"

I frowned. “That wasn't very panicky. More like viciously hungry and ready to tear apart the fools that would stand in the way of their quest.”

Blueblood held up a leg, to make me bump into it like the jerk that he was. Granted, I hadn't noticed that we had arrived on a street's crossing, and proper regulations were important.

I began to say something, but then I felt a very weird shaking in my legs. Unnatural, aka produced by creatures that should not be there. With great apprehension, I glanced at our right, from when the shaking seemed stronger, and saw a veritable river of fur with ponies attached to them trotted up the streets briskly.

“Cupcakes,” gnawed one.

“Muffins!” growled another.

It came to blows. The two were swallowed into the monstrous moving mass. What were two ponies with blank eyes and slow, jerky movements and an intense craving for something? Miserable little piles of secrets.

“Havoc,” Blush Body said smugly.

“They're zomponies.” I pouted. “That's not a normal Equestria thing. My theory is still totally a possibility.”

Now, one of us hadn't his priorities straight, because he took the time to refute my 'logic'. The fool.

“Zombie ponies are improbable, but possible,” he pointed sharply. “Now give me that abomination you mentioned and undo the brainwashing, Havoc. Not in that order."

And here I noticed the flaw in Blueberry's superb plan. “How exactly am I supposed to do that?” I asked while pointing a claw at the parade of sugar-happy ponies.

His doubtlessly haughty and snide order died as he deflated like a lost balloon in a sunny day – the one hanging above the Pens & Beds store ensign. "I... don't know... what did you say subliminally?"

My mind happily reminded me, as did a lower part of my anatomy, while I burned up in embarrassment. "...W-well..." Now, I hadn't been expecting anyone to actually hear the silent love serenade that sort of turned into a dirty poem. Honest! Which was my name, so extra credibility! "I... don't remember?"

"Havoc..."

"It was a very spur of the moment thingy…" I scratched at the ground, fighting the itch to get away from his disapproving glare. T'was very accidental, and sugar was good for your soul anyway. Who cared? "Not easy. Like, you're asking me to undo improv made while high on lovefluff? It's not-- LUCKY!"

Vaguely, I saw the hope lit up in Blueblood's gaze, and his “Do you remember?” bounced off my shell of enthusiasm. Oh no, I had much more important things to focus on.

With a pounce, I reached into the pockets of his vest and felt my claws sink into a delightfully fluffy substance. Triumphant, a manic grin on my face, I threw my leg in the air and held my prize to the sun. “Look! Pinkie left you a cupcake from Sugarcube Corner!”

For some reason, even as I said it, it felt like pulling on a violin's string. The chanting went silent, every sound dying down with a record scratch needle. Somepony had tripped into the vinyl disc shop.

A few dozens head snapped in our direction, their gaze blank save for the spark of pure lust that birthed from the sight of Pinkie's baked good. Now, if I were being honest, I probably drooled a bit more than them when hungry, but my meals were generally dead and not subject to being trampled. Our flesh was still alive and smoothilicious, and holding a cupcake.

Blueblood summed it up nicely. "Buck."

And I, not to be outdone...

“RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES!”

Somehow, in this moment of blind panic, I managed to gallop in the direction opposite to the crowd. I must be having a good day.

Of course, I was also fleeing for my life from a horde of sugar-obsessed zombies I had accidentally created. So there was that to consider too on the goodness-of-day scale.

For somepony exhausted both magically and mentally, Blueblood could sprint like a boss. Motivation made anything possible. We were two stallions on a mission to stay alive! So, we ran like the wind, if the wind had had legs.

And under us, the ground shook under the assault of hundred of hooves stomping.

On a scale of one to Richter, this might be close to Mount Vesuvius. Poor Canterlot.

Listening to my instincts, I took the first turn on the left, then another.

“This is a dead end, Havoc!" my fellow sprinter told me, a bit too late.

The walls of each house seemed to close in on me, and the stone that blocked the light. I skidded to a halt and blinked at the very tall stone structure ahead. “Well, that wall came out of nowhere.”

Blueblood's words were drowned by the thunderous rumbling that followed, and looking back, we saw dozens upon dozens of ponies galloping in the street we had just left. The stampede flashed with every color of their coats, and the two of us stood frozen, wondering, cold sweat sliding down our spines, how long?

Fourteen seconds. My mental clock could tell with that kind of accuracy. Fourteen seconds in, one sugar-obsessed pony noticed, mayhaps in the corner of her eye, the glint of Pinkie's beautiful cupcake hovering in the air.

“Mine!” she shouted, and in the alley came pouring every other zombie that heard her.

"Wow." I stared at the tidal wave of colorful flesh galloping straight at us. "That's kind of really creepy..."

A bout of stinging pain seared my cheek, and I saw Blueblood's frantic eyes bear into me. "Can you fly us to the roof, Havoc? Immediately?"

Maybe there was a self-preservation bone in my body somewhere deep inside me, like, around the bottom of my spine, or maybe around the ribs, because my brain did not have a brain fart. I was on Blueblood's back, then my wings spread wide. Strange air gathered at their tip, and the explosion lifted me and my burden.

And then… there was a problem.

Now, my gracious and powerful flying stalled about two meters up, and my legs felt ablaze from the inside. Each wing beat I spent had more strength than the last, more energy, more everything. But that rooftop clearly taunted me by not appearing very much closer than when Blueblood's heavy frame decided to be a jerk.

“Higher, Havoc!” said small whale screeched as a pair of zomponies snapped their teeth just below his hooves.

The cupcake promptly flew away from us, becoming unto them like a shooting star made of blueberries and love.

Blush Barril's horn however spluttered some sparks with an ominous cough, and the cupcake faltered into the air. Under us, the piles of ponies shifted and twisted and grew taller while legs and wings and teeth leaned skyward in a grotesque mount of flesh.

With a frantic twist of his head, my unicorn princeling pal pulled Pinkie's precious back in our direction, and the horde with it.

“There is something stupid about this...” I mumbled, jaws clenched shut.

“Just get us higher, Havoc!”

“Blueblood, did you have to be a fatass today?”

The poor bastard screeched, “I saw you lift a bear with one hoof! How can you possibly have trouble with just me?”

Grunting, I managed a bit more lift. “Guess, BB!”

“I am not fat!” shouted his big-boned majesty. “It's all pure muscle!”

Putting the last of my strength into it, I swung and aimed at the rooftop. “Less whining, more climbing!”

“I HATE Y–!” The last of it turned into a wheeze when his barrel collided with the edge of the stone wall. His hind legs batting in the air, he pushed himself onto the roof.

I, on the other hoof, ate a bar of metal to the face. My ears ringing, it became obvious the Universe had decided to teach me a lesson for caring about him. So poor in iron, that metal bar. Luckily, strong enough to grasp at it with my claws.

Scrambling, I somehow ended up seeing the streets way over my head, and the ponies insides all running like a flash flood upside-down. With a sudden jerk at the base of my tail, I yelped and realized I was hanging to a fire escape ladder by my tail. Hurt a bit over the rump, and blood going to my head probably was dangerous.

“GiVE us THe CuPCakescakescakescakes...”

Well, I might have just lost my appetite.

If the ones that said that got a hold of my head, all the blood stored inside would go splat on the floor. Or their coats. Or their eyes and their mouths and noises. Point being, the blood wouldn't be in my body anymore.

And I liked having blood in my body, ingested or otherwise.

A shadow fell over my eyes, and just in time did I glance left.

AH! MONKEY PONY! Screeched my many imaginary friends as an earth pony dove through the air, all his legs fully extended like a starfish, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

My hoof caught him straight in the jaw, and sent him flying. I watched as his bright green fur blasted into three ponies of varying yellow coats, and laughed, laughed! Until another pony tackled me in the belly. That sort of put a damper on things.

For a second there, pretty stars, galaxies and the start of a new civilization of bacteria-people flashed like dots before my eyes. My lungs had not appreciated being emptied so brutally. The frantic bright red legs scratching at me did not help the matter either.

Maybe I breathed fire a little. Maybe. She could have just as well slid off me because she hadn't gotten a grip. Hard to get a grip when your hooves are on fire. But, and this is me saying it, I digress.

The time had come for me to get in touch with my monkey side.

Pulling out a banana, I leaped magnificently over the horde of future diabetics and grasped onto the very same edge Blueblood had gone up to.

There was that noise around us, like hooves scrapping against brick. It might mean horrible things. Worse even than the spellcasting song Blueblood was reciting under his breath. No, the things that came close to us… oh, crap.

I stared at the zombies climbing the walls, or more specifically how their hooves clung to the walls through suction and rubber-like marshmallow texture. Were horses even supposed to stretch like that? "Wow, Spiderman's got a lot of competition on the zombie magical pony scene."

One of them grabbed my leg. And another. With a malicious smile, they tensed their shoulders, and swung half their bodies downward.

My body shot forward right toward the edge.

"Wowowowowowww!"

My claws just sailed through the dust and pebbles lying on the roof, unable to get a hold of any kind. Pain shot through my shoulders, and my hind legs shook under the pressure, both pushing against the edge of the rooftop to keep me afloat.

“This could be going better,” I muttered to nopony in particular.

“It's all your fault, Havoc!” Blueblood shouted.

There's another explosion, but this one much... stranger. Not a boom of fire and death and collateral damage, but something squeezy, almost festive and like a balloon deflating. A shiver of unease ran through the zompony crowd. They exchanged blank stares, as if trying to ask their neighboring sins against nature if maybe they should go see what that was about.

“Here it comes!” Blueblue shouted.

I saw blue. Not, him blue, just blue saturating everything.

"Blarh" stumbled out of my mouth like an adult word, while magic tickled my fur and the pressure on my front legs disappeared entirely.

Momentarily.

Vicious jerky hooves flew past the roof's edge and grasped my legs. My whole body followed. I was hit first by the weightlessness of near flight, of being lifted off the ground through great power. Except, aimed at the ground, with two or seven pony faces snarling at me. No wonder they pulled me over.

Hundreds of eyes focused straight on me from down the street. Just in their hardened lusting gaze, I could tell I would pay for not being a cupcake. Maybe it'd go fast. Everything seemed to be happening fast, and slow.

And maybe, just maybe, these would be my last words. Because he couldn't keep up.

“Performance issues, Blues! Really?!”

One for the history books.

And then, more magic. Even better, more useful magic.

I could taste the purple. Delish.

Pain erupted into my shoulder, where one unicorn's horn dug into my flesh. Bad landing in a pile of ponies. Why would I get hurt?! Worse when it happened again, with my rump. I hate the world.

Not too far away, the most beautiful voice in the world shouted, "Cupcakes for everyone!" And the world, again, shook, from a poof and clown kazoo duo.

From the sky falleth the sparkles of colors, thin, short confetti every shade of the rainbow floating down on the whims of the wind. Tied to mini-parachutes, heavenly treats floated down the distance between us, and together, the ponies blinked out the remnants of their trances. The nightmare ended with the scent of vanilla, strawberry and chocolate.

Grinning, I fell onto my back, admiring the beautiful artwork. Only one pony could bring such esthetics to a post-apocalyptic scenario. "Aww, Cotton Candy…"

Okay, so maybe I just hate some of the world.

Slowly, the insane got their minds back, and they trailed their eyes on their surroundings. None of them had a clue what had happened. But they did as pony instincts dictated: follow the song. And even from here, I could hear the pop music.

While the general public went about their business, a thought came to mind. Now, that wasn't all that unusual, even for me, but this one concerned the few remnants of tingly blue magic that I could still taste on my tongue. And maybe, its caster.

"Blue?" I called back, before leaping onto the roof to the startled yelps of many little ponies. “Blueberrybachelor?”

Either the big white lump over there was a pillow, or he had fainted. Dramatically, right after the climax. Hmmmmm.

Pulling a stick out of hyperspace, I poked his sides, where the hints of pudgy made his flesh all squishy and squicky.

No response.

That brought a frown to my face. “Blue? Don't be selfish. Wake up.”

Still nothing. I was starting to think he wasn't just being dramatic. That made my stomach turn a bit.

“…Blueblood?”

He had yet to react, and I felt myself grew uneasy, all alone on the roof with just his unconscious body for companion. That wasn't very conductive to incredible adventures. Great things come in pair, or so they say.

“Hony! There you are!” I heard, and my heart swelled up with pure fluffy love. She was here!

“Pinkie!” I threw myself at the beautiful pink mare. “You're okay!”

“Eeyup!” Pinkie's sweet perfume tickled my nose as she hugged me. “Well, the good news is that everything is back to super normal thanks to Twilight. The weird news is that I never thought I would be disappointed to hear ponies chanting about cupcakes.”

I flinched so hard Reality cracked. No, really, a hole appeared in thin air, from which one could glimpse bright yellow tentacles moving about.

It's my fault. I made Pinkie Pie disappointed about cries for cupcakes! What a world!

I hung my head in shame. “Sorry, sweet sally. I kinda wanted to remember to go see you again, and get another one of your most delicious pastries, but it sorta spread to everypony else instead. Can you ever forgive me?”

Pinkie did not even hesitate. “Yepperoni! Don't be silly, Hony, it was all an accident. And I can tell by the subtle twitches of your right ear that you're very, very ashamed by this whole thing. But it's okay, nopony got really hurt, and it was interesting to test my party canon in a horror survival game. Just make sure to properly apologize to everypony you got into trouble, okay?”

I was so unworthy of her. To look at her radiant kindly happiness felt like a bat staring at the sun.
“Oopsie, gotta go. The girls are probably going to be looking for me everywhere! I was somewhere near the middle of it before I decided to pop here for a chat!”

Wait, so, was she going to leave so soon?! “Pinkie...?”

Her whole shook under a sudden shiver.

“Ooooooh, that's gotta be Dashie and Applejack!” She pulled out a giant beeping machine from behind her mane, and stared intently at the buttons. “See? Those lines indicate a 50% level of appleness in the air, typical of any member of the Apple Family, except possibly the Pies. Nopony's really quite sure if we count.” She shrugged, and the machine bleeped out with all the colors of the rainbow. “And that's a mixture of 40% radicalness, 20% cool and 15% awesome. There is only one pony in Equestria with that combination!”

“Oh...” I muttered. “That's exceedingly logical. Off you go, I guess.”

“Aww, don't worry. We'll see each other again!” In a blink, she was hugging me, and then she was not. “It's just a 'see ya later'!”

I tried not to be horrifically depressed about that. At least we'd see each other again.

“See ya later!” she chirped with a wide wave of her hoof.

Waving back in good cheer had to be one of the hardest thing I did in recent memories (give or take six minutes), and when my sweet Cotton Candy had left, everything became strangely silent.

So, the ponies in the street were gathering their wits, the celebratory fireworks were going off in the distance, and a voice from a megaphone shouted for all to hear that any injured could show up at the castle or send a flare to be treated without wait.

...And Blueblood couldn't do either of that, now could he?

Not while unconscious.

It struck me as strangely unfair. I'd been happily flirting with the prettiest mare in the world, even after I caused huge amounts of trouble. Hay, the poor princeling had fainted from overusing his magic. Whatever puppetmaster controlled everything was a big ass bastard. Like him.

And… maybe, because the weight on my back was lesser than the weight on my conscience, I muttered, “I'm sorry, Blue.”

----

Observatory Journal, by Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood.
Entry # 6

As one might notice while reading this report, Honest Havoc's most dangerous characteristics are clearly not the ones that are expected. Knowing him, he might actually do it on purpose to annoy me. So, yes, watch out, whoever reads this and intends to engage Havoc, you are likely fine if he tries to bite you or breath fire on your face, but if he sings, you are doomed.

I am pleased to remind anypony reading this highly confidential scroll that the crisis resulted in absolutely no casualties and the worst injuries were a few strained muscles. Honest Havoc seems to have caused more chaos than damage, which, while worrying in its own right, is expected of a chaotic breed of pony.

This, just in case, somepony wanted to imprison the guy.

On another note, he bought me a prostitute as an apology. I am still deciding whether or not that was insulting or kind of him. I mean, I know for a fact most of the ponies that pooled their bits together just wanted to insult me, jokes on them, but I'm still on the fence about Havoc.

His mind is still an ethereal and dangerous place. Listening to his rambling is always an invitation to madness. Thus, the sane thing for me and anypony reading those lines to do would be to tune out his ramblings.

…

P.S. By Royal Decree, no cat will be allowed in my wing of the castle. I could have sworn I saw a glimpse of gray fur the next morning, but the guards insist they haven't seen any.

Author's Notes:

Oh, by the way, for those of you that hadn't seen the blog post, we owe the new cover art to the always amazing Mix-up (also seen on fimfic here). Please, give him the praise he deserves for his work.

Without him, you wouldn't have seen Havoc and Blueblood dancing a tango together.