“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.