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.