It seemed far, too perfect. Ending the first day of the second week of October—a Monday, nonetheless—with going over to a friend’s house? And to top it all off, hardly any homework assigned! Knowing this, No Clue waited for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps Blueblood, in his characteristically charming-yet-arrogant way, would request that he do something for him. Certainly, the boy had hardly even asked for much beyond Clue’s company. But there remained a doubt in the boy’s claim that all he wanted, truly, was Clue’s friendship.

But staring at the large mansion that lay several miles from the school, with its gleaming windows, massive, brick walls, and acres of trees and bushes in the front, the side, and the back of it, that doubt soon fell away, replaced with awe.

Blueblood chuckled at Clue’s expression as he stepped out of the limousine. “Over the years, I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Guess it’s still a sight to behold.”

“That’s because not every person has a mansion, Blueblood,” Brutos mumbled.

“True; but not every person who has a mansion has a mansion like this, do they?”

“It’s gotta be at least late-Victorian style,” Clue said, geeking out at the architecture. “With a hint of Roman in it, definitely. Who built it?”

“I have no idea of exactly whom,” said Blueblood, “but they must have been paid a handsome sum to construct this beauty.”

“Beauty is right! Blueblood, you live in a freaking castle! That has got to be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

He saw a smirk cross the other boy’s face. “Oh, really? Is that a challenge?”

Sticking two fingers in his mouth, Blueblood let out a sharp, high-pitched, short whistle. A moment later, a slightly hunched-over man appeared beside him. Clue blinked; it seemed like he had come out of nowhere. Perhaps he had been in the car?

“Oz?” Blueblood said. “Take our guests bags to the guest room, will you?”

“Certainly, Master Blueblood. May I ask what you will be doing in the meantime?”

“Have I not told you that it is not in your job description to inquire about my activities?” Blueblood glared. “Have we not been over this at least a dozen times?”

Oz barely flinched. “Of course, Master Blueblood. I was speaking on behalf of your father.”

At that, Blueblood cringed, as if physically struck. “Ah. Of course. Tell my father I will be showing our guests around the mansion.”

“Right away, Master Blueblood. Will you be needing anything else?”

“Some snacks,” he said. Then he checked his watch, and saw it was 2:40. “Bring them up to my room at 3:30, on the dot. Understood?”

“Without question, sir. I’ll be off.”

Oz seemed to disappear entirely from view; when Clue looked to where he had last stood, he had vanished, and when he looked back at the mansion, he stood in front of the doors, having seemingly teleported. Clue blinked. “How did he do that?”

Brutos shrugged. “Honestly, I haven’t figured that out myself.”

Blueblood made a sniffing noise. “Oz has been trained in the fine arts of butlery, No Clue. He is a master of his craft.”

“And that means he can teleport whenever he wants?”

“I’m no butler; how should I know? Now, come on; we want to get this tour started as soon as we can.”

“Really? Why?”

Blueblood surged forward, ignoring Clue’s questions. The boy stared after him, confused. Brutos stepped up beside him, and leaned down to whisper, “It has something to do with his dad. Some sort of bad blood or whatever.”

Clue gave Brutos a questioning glance. “What kind of bad blood?”

“The kind that makes you want to stay far away from whoever you’re mad at.”

He scrutinized him with a narrow, albeit light-in-meaning, glare. “For a jock, you sure know a lot about people.”

Brutos shrugged. “I’m more than just a jock, Clue. Now, come on. We don’t want to piss off Blueblood Senior.”

They trudged after Blueblood, entering through the large, oak-wood doors. Inside, Clue was treated to a sight just as impressive as the outside. While a lengthy red carpet with golden-yellow edges ran its way down the center, a candlelit chandelier hung above them, swaying ever so slightly due to the oncoming autumn wind from outside. Two sets of stairs rose at the sides of the rug, up to the second floor, where three sets of doors could be seen. A similar color-schemed rug went up each. At the bottom, where he stood, he saw two archways, one on either side of him. The left led to what seemed to be a living room, although it was a rather large one. The right, on the other hand, led to the dining room.

After he heard Oz close the doors behind them, Clue breathed in deeply. He was surprised to notice a lack of cooking or any sort of scent beyond the rich, general candle-scents that pervaded throughout. “No one’s making dinner?” he asked aloud.

Brutos shook his head. “No one yet, anyway.”

“Alright, Oz,” Blueblood said. “If you would take the backpacks to the guest room, now.”

“Right away, Master Blueblood.” Oz darted up the stairs like a shadow running from the lit candles, and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Blueblood turned around and spread his arms. “Welcome to Casa De Blueblood, my friends. I trust you are impressed?”

Clue nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! It’s just as awesome in here as it is out there!”

Blueblood smiled a genuine smile. “I doubt I’ll tire of your enthusiasm, No Clue. Now; let’s start the tour, shall we?”

Lowering his arms, Blueblood briskly walked past them, heading into the arch on the left. They followed.

Three seats and one sofa, all a tan leather, centered around a mahogany coffee table, with a square rug with a series of intricate, salmon-pink lines lying underneath. Behind the further-most seat was a brick fireplace. Its pit had been caked with soot, but it had obviously been glossed over with some sort of varnish material, judging by the way it slightly gleamed.

“Here, as you can surely see, is our living room area.” He scrunched up his face. “Ugh. Don’t tell me we still have those ugly curtains hanging up.”

No Clue peered at them, curious. “I’m no interior designer, but they do look nice.”

“Nice on a different coat of paint,” Blueblood groaned. “Just another thing to add to the long list of things needing to change.” He cleared his throat. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes.” Blueblood pointed to the chairs and sofa. “These were imported, I am told, from the far east of the world. Some place in Yakyakistan. They’re the finest devices of sitting that you will ever gaze upon, gentlemen; so you would be wise to cherish the fact that I am so willingly letting you sit on them.”

They sat down. Clue found his seat to be surprisingly quite comfy, while Brutos, in his massive size, no doubt felt that the seat he sat in was too small. Blueblood did not appear to take note of either reaction, sitting down on the sofa, legs crossed, a thin, neutral frown on his lips.

Blueblood leaned forward, then, and opened up a drawer on the coffee table. He took out some sort of remote control. He pressed a button, and the lights turned on. They came out as copper-colored. “Now, this,” he said, “is my favorite part of this room, to be honest.” With another flick, the lights changed to blue, and with another one, to neon pink. Blueblood regarded them with a carnation-tinged smile. “Isn’t that pretty swell?”

Brutos shrugged. “It seems useless, Blue. They’re just lights.”

Blueblood shook his head. “I’d hardly expect someone as simple as you to understand, Brutos. So let’s just ask what No Clue thinks.” As Brutos bristled slightly, Blueblood turned to the third boy. “So? What do you think of them?”

Clue shrugged. “I guess they’re nice, in their own, unique way. If you ever want to have some weird relaxation session in here, the blue lights would be nice.”

“Precisely why I got them, No Clue.” He looked back at Brutos. “At least some of us know what we’re talking about.”

“But… it seems needlessly money-wasteful just for a bunch of colored lights.”

“Ah!” Blueblood shot a hand up, palm facing No Clue, while he looked away. “That’s enough out of you, Clue. We’ve got an entire mansion to tour, and I shan’t be having side comments along the way slowing things down.”

“Huh? But I was just—”

No sooner had he uttered the stutter that Blueblood was up and already heading out of the room. Clue stumbled on his feet trying to get up, with Brutos rising at a somewhat slower rate. The taller boy let out a snort, letting his annoyance show. Clue shook his head. “Right. His house, his rules. I should have figured…”

The kitchen, as it turned out, was the next room, and as No Clue quickly realized, it was taller than the living room. If he had to guess, it had to be the tallest individual section of the house, with all four walls rising up to the roof. While a hanging chandelier—only slightly larger than the one in the welcoming hall—lit the area, Blueblood stood in the center. His arms were spread, and he did a little circle. “This is where the magic happens, gentlemen,” he explained. “Here are created the culinary delights that we will no doubt be feasting upon soon. Our kitchen table has been made from the finest marble, imported all the way from the Latin world, bathed in the lava of a Polynesian volcano, and sculpted by the finest that money can offer.

“Gaze, gentlemen, upon these royal-purple tablecloths. Would you believe they come from Germaney? Yes, all the way from there. Supposedly these were in the possession of some ancient king many centuries ago. How fitting that they should wind up in this very household!” He laughed, then continued, “And these seats! Ah, yes. They may appear simple in design, but don’t let that fool you. We’ve had some of the best craftsmen come in and carve these out of rich, Spaneish oak, glossed and finished, and now out for display for all eyes to see. Gentlemen, it is with no doubt in my voice that I tell you that this is the most highly-ornate area of the house; a fact that, no doubt, you already have observed.”

“They’re just a table, cloth, and chairs,” No Clue heard Brutos mutter, but Blueblood didn’t appear to hear him.

He guided them towards the back, and, from a light-green cabinet, dug out some cups. “Would you care for refreshments? Some champagne, perhaps? A little wine? Or if you’re really daring: some tequila?”

“Just water, Blueblood,” No Clue said. “We’re too young to drink, anyhow.”

Blueblood rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. In this household, Clue, we can do what we want. I insist that you drink and be merry!”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Blue. I don’t like alcohol, anyway.”

“Hrm. Suit yourself. How about you, Brutos? Care for—”

“Water,” Brutos said gruffly. “Anything else is bad for tomorrow’s workout.”

“Fine, fine, water it is.”

After handing them back their water-filled glasses—with his filled with some bronze liquid—Blueblood led them to the area adjourning the kitchen. It was another living area, though without fancy lights or a fireplace. However, it did have a large, flat-screen TV poised high above a wooden centerpiece that had, to No Clue’s confusion, been turned on to some sort of children’s cartoon channel.

Blueblood as well appeared surprised, even shocked. Clue turned to him. “Uh… did you leave the television on all day?”

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t watched the telly in a good while. I didn’t even turn it on this morning.” He shot Clue a slightly murderous look. “And no, I don’t watch a children’s show about some… what is that, a talking pig?”

“I wasn’t insinuating that,” Clue replied. “Still, that is pretty odd.”

“You’re telling me.” After grabbing the remote, Blueblood turned the television off. “Perhaps Oz left it on. Or perhaps Father did.” He spoke of his parent with a biting tone.

After a moment of awkward silence, the rich boy cleared his throat. “Right! Anyway. There’s not much to see in here, unfortunately; at least, not much that you couldn’t find out on your own. Nothing too extravagant was placed in this room, I’m afraid.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Brutos muttered. “I might have thought you’d have run out of money by then.”

“Hmph.” Blueblood flicked away a long strand of hair. “So behind that thick skull of yours is some sharp wit.”

Brutos smirked. “I wear a helmet for a reason.”

“Clever. Anyhow, let’s move on, shall we?”

The final room on the floor was the dining room. A lengthy table laid in the middle, surrounded by ten chairs—four on the left side, four on the right, and one on either end. It was just as extravagant as the one in the kitchen, though obviously much longer. While white placemats sat in front of each seat, two vases that held some red flowers filled the gaps between them. In the center of the table, a triple candle-holder stood, empty and unlit; though, the way the wax seemed to glide down, frozen, off the edges, suggested that it had been used recently.

“This is a much simpler room, I must admit,” Blueblood said. “It’s all one color scheme: brown. Earthy, I suppose, but not entirely delectable.”

“You’re supposed to eat here, not admire the décor,” Brutos said, to which No Clue offered a murmur of agreement.

“That just goes to show how little appreciation you two have for the finer things.” Blueblood pointed to a large bureau that stood at the back end of the room. “I suppose you’d miss this fine china had I not pointed it out? Or perhaps you’d make a crack at how they’re ‘just dishes?’”

“You’ve got me there,” Brutos said. No Clue chuckled. Blueblood fumed—but only slightly.

The rich boy gazed at the table, his brow furrowing. “Something catch your attention?” No Clue asked.

“Why is that placemat—” Blueblood pointed to the one farthest from them; “—out of place with the others?”

It was indeed out of place. With its crumpled look and wayward placement, it stuck out like a sore thumb. “Oz?” No Clue suggested.

Blueblood shook his head. “No, that can’t be it. Oz is in charge of making sure this is all straight and even. Something else is going on.”

“What, like a ghost?” Brutos snorted. “Thought you didn’t believe in that crap, Blue.”

“I don’t!” the boy barked back. “But this is not how I left the house this morning, I swear!”

No Clue remained doubtful. “Are you sure? Maybe you were a little absentminded or something and accidentally prodded it.”

“To that extent? I don’t think so.”

Blueblood paused, and breathed in deeply. “I suppose it’s not something worth getting riled on about… at least, not at present. Can’t I conduct a tour without something going astray?”

“You’ve done this before?” Clue asked before he could even think.

Blueblood’s face fell. “W-well, y-yes… and no. Not in my home, at least…”

“Oh…”

More, awkward silence followed. No Clue took this time to look around the dining room a little more. His eyes settled upon a painting that hung next to the bureau. It depicted a scarlet-haired woman wearing some sort of teal blouse, staring off into the sunset. Her face was masked by her hair; No Clue couldn’t tell if she was smiling or frowning, or whatever the artist had originally intended. He looked around the painting for a signature, but found surprisingly none.

The one thing he did know was that she was very pretty, and if he ignored the lack of definitive facial features, the entire scene looked peaceful. Like the end of a good novel kind of peaceful. He wasn’t sure why he thought of that particular analogy, but it seemed fitting.

Blueblood, with another clearing of his throat (he somehow managed to do it in a much more haughty manner than before), interrupted Clue’s musings. “Well, we ought not to let this mild mishap make our experience any less educational. We’ve still got one more floor to explore, gentlemen.”

Blueblood then began to walk backwards towards the welcoming area. “I assure you,” he said while still walking, “this will be the most fun part of your day. We’ll relax a bit. Have tea, cake, cookies, you name it.”

Before Clue could respond, someone else said, “As you wish, Master Blueblood.”

“Yipes!”

Brutos was the only one who remained staunch and stoic, though he raised an eyebrow, amused, as the two other boys jumping into each other’s arms at the sound of Oz’s voice. Both quickly separated, No Clue embarrassed, Blueblood fuming.

“Damn it, Oz!” the rich boy shouted. “I told you not to sneak up on me like that!”

Oz appeared only the slightest bit repentant. “My apologies, Master Blueblood,” he nonetheless said, bowing. “I had thought you more aware of your surroundings than you really were.”

“Oh, ha, ha.” Blueblood wiped a finger under his nose, sniffing loudly. “Well, now that you’re here, prepare for us some tea, cake, and cookies, would you?”

“Certainly, Master Blueblood. Anything else?”

He pondered for a moment, before saying, “Actually, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Ask away, Master Blueblood.”

“Can you tell me why the placemat over in the dining room area is crumpled up?”

“Ah…” Oz’s voice trailed off as he looked to where Blueblood pointed. “Ah, yes. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that, young sir. You see, I believe the Missus was having some fun over there.” Thinking that his task was done, Oz set off for the kitchen to start his next task.

“The Missus?” Blueblood repeated. “I thought my mother is away on a business trip.”

Oz was already (somehow) in the kitchen before he answered with, “Oh, not that Missus, Master Blueblood. The young Missus.”

Blueblood’s eyes went wide. Before No Clue could ask why, they heard a door slam shut, followed by a singular, soul-piercing, far-too-eager voice coming from the stairs above:

“Was that cousin Blue-Blue that I heard screaming?”

Then Blueblood did scream; it was shorter, sharper, but it conveyed perfectly the level of shock, annoyance, and anger he held in his heart. Brutos was quick, however; once a second or two had passed, the older boy’s hand found its way around Blueblood’s mouth, muffling his voice.

“Let’s not do that,” Brutos said with an eye roll.

Blueblood, after a moment, nodded, and Brutos relinquished his hold and stepped away.

No Clue looked up to the second floor, but couldn’t find the source of the voice. Something pink, however, flashed by, and he turned his head sharply, trying to follow it. Unfortunately, Blueblood’s head was a little too close, and his face crashed into the back of the boy’s head.

“Argh! Sunovamotherhubbard!”

“Damn it, Clue! Where’d you get such a hard nose?!”

Brutos rolled his eyes.

Blueblood rubbed his head, frowning, while No Clue struggled to his feet. “Today just isn’t my day, is it?” the boy muttered. “First Clue having a hard-ass head… and now this.”

“Aw, come on, Blue-Blue! That’s no way to greet your cousin!”

“I swear to God!” Blueblood roared. “If you use that asinine moniker one more time; just one, more, time!”

The voice giggled. “There’s no need to get so upset! It’s just a friendly nickname, that’s all. Hey!” The tone shifted to curiosity. “You brought friends? You actually made friends?”

“Very funny.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to them?”

“If I must; and if you actually get down here. I see you hiding behind that post!”

Another giggle followed. “Alright, I’m coming down, then!”

Clue could hear someone quickly descending the steps, but it sounded like they were taking at least two, heavy steps at a time. There was a pause in the steps, and then that pause was replaced by a loud thud. They had jumped down the rest of the stairs. A rather unorthodox descent, but whomever this person was, they did sound unorthodox.

He heard Blueblood sigh, annoyed. “How many times have I told you; you’ll end up either cracking the floor or your knees if you keep that up!”

“And how many times have I told you: that neither of those things has happened?”

While the two continued to bicker, No Clue decided to take this opportunity to see the newcomer for himself. He stepped around Blueblood, rubbing his nose. The conversation suddenly ceased on the newcomer’s end.

Her hair, a rouge-pink, curled into a neat bun. It was cut short, stylized for both form and function. Upon her light-tan face was a pair of round glasses that glinted under the chandelier’s light. Her attire consisted of a simple school uniform, with a navy jacket, white undershirt, plaid and baby-blue skirt, and a dashing, violet bow on the collar. What was odd was that her lip appeared to tremble, like she was afraid.

“Oh, good, you finally quieted up.” Blueblood straightened. “Gentlemen, this is my younger cousin on my father’s side: Aurora Veil. Aurora, say hello to Brutos and Nostradamus Clue.”

“Hello,” Brutos greeted calmly.

Clue tried for a smile. “Uh, hi, Aurora. It’s nice to meet you. And you can just call me No Clue.”

Just like that, all that sass and bravado, that gallant and carefree tone, vanished. “H-hi, No Clue,” she stuttered. She did a curt, little now, holding up the ends of her skirt. “N-nice to meet you.” She hid her face in her hands, much to Clue’s and Blueblood’s confusion.

“Don’t mind her,” the rich boy said, “she’s always been on the weirder side.”

“Dang. You just tell it like it is, don’t you?” Clue said.

Aurora let out a little, nervous giggle, seemingly unoffended.

Blueblood rolled his eyes. “Look, you try living with her for most of your childhood and not get annoyed whenever she shows up. But that’s a topic for another day. Move aside, would ya?”

“Okay, Blue-blue!”

“I said—”

She was already up the stairs and had vanished behind the corner before he could finish. He sighed. “Ugh. Whatever. Let me show you around the upstairs, and then we’ll relax in my room.”

Aurora Veil was simply adorable. There was no other way to describe her. Between the girly giggles, the light blush, and the slight wobble in her step as she dangerously followed them into Blueblood’s room (much to the boy’s annoyance), there was no way that Clue could deny it. And it was a more subdued kind of adorable, too; and judging by the fact that Blueblood didn’t immediately kick her out of his room the moment she entered—in fact, all he did was sigh really loudly—it was something that he himself considered true.

She had made to sit down next to No Clue, still blushing. Seeing that there wasn’t enough room, he had shuffled over, offering a kind smile. She had giggled lightly, and sat down, clutching her dress between closed fists. Every once in a while, she would look at him through her glasses, and each time he would catch her; each time, she would either giggle or gasp, and then look away.

No Clue shook his head the first few times it happened. Adorable as she was, there was no mistaking it; she was weird, too. But not in a bad way.

After Oz showed up with a plate of cookies, they began to talk between bites. Most of the conversation drifted towards the relationship between Blueblood and Aurora. Brutos was, in his usual, quiet manner, the most curious, specifically asking the younger girl “how you had managed to put up with his pretentious ass all for all those years?”

“Firstly,” she said, straightening up and letting out her own, haughty sniff, “language. And secondly, Blue-Blue isn’t pretentious! He’s just selfish in his old age, that’s all.”

“I’m only two years older than you!”

“And it wasn’t that hard to grow up with him around,” she continued, ignoring his outburst. “Mother Radiance and Blue-Blue’s father were on very good terms with each other, and thus, so were their kids. Blue-Blue himself used to beg his dad for more playdates with me!”

“I did no such thing!” he protested.

“What’s with that nickname?” No Clue asked.

Blueblood huffed. “I can answer that. Aurora here had had a tough time pronouncing my name when she was baby. Apparently, two-syllable names that start with the same letter but end different is tough; but repeat the first part and place a hyphen in between, and that makes it so much easier.”

Aurora stuck her tongue out at her cousin. “Hey, you never once asked me to stop until you were a sixth grader.”

“And yet you still insist on calling me that, anyway!”

“Only because it’s fun to get you riled up!”

Blueblood made a fist. Aurora yelped and dashed behind No Clue, holding his back—far too tightly than she should have, but he reasoned she was just a little frightened. “Easy there, Blueblood,” he said as calmly as he could, trying not to snicker. “No need to get violent.”

“You’re already on her side?” he asked, incredulous. “I swear; she must be half witch!”

“She’s a little kid, Blue-Blue,” Brutos said. He dodged the boy’s rampant fist with ease.

“I’m not a little kid!” she protested from behind Clue. “I’m a sophomore at Winnipiac!”

“That private school outside of Canterlot’s district?” Brutos raised an eyebrow. “Guess you must be pretty smart, too.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, very! I’m in all AP classes, five different clubs, and I’ve gotten student of the month already!”

“Meanwhile,” Brutos continued, “Blueblood here just goes to good ol’ Canterlot High.”

The boy groaned. “Look, it was close to home, and my parents decided it was the best place to ‘indulge in the commonalities,’ okay? If I had my way, I’d have gone to Crystal Prep!”

Aurora suddenly pouted. “But if you did that, Blue-Blue, you’d never see me again! Or your friends!”

That sobered him up. “Yeah… I guess I wouldn’t have.”

No Clue felt a bit of warmth at that.

The conversation drifted over to other matters, namely the absence of Blueblood’s father so far. The boy expressed his annoyance greatly: leaning back into the wall, eyes closed, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s always so busy these days. I don’t see him in the morning, and it’s really only after dinner that I get to see him at all. Even then, he’s so tired, that after he eats, he either crashes, or stays up to work on some business plan.”

Aurora nodded sagely. “Yep. Mr. Blueblood Senior is a super busy guy. He has to deal with all those bureaucrats and seedy businessmen in the city, like, every day.”

“And he’s good at it, too,” Blueblood said. “But the problem is it’s a lot. And with mother gone on a business trip, well, it makes things all the more stressful.”

“Really? Why is that?” No Clue asked.

Blueblood let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, you know. Mother provides some amount of stress relief, be it cooking, or… ‘baking.’”

Aurora blinked. “She smokes weed?”

“What? No! Of course not, Aurora! I mean… ‘oven-baking.’”

“Baked brownies, then?”

Blueblood glanced over at the other boys. No Clue had a blush on, while Brutos carefully looked away. “Not quite, Aurora, dear. You’ll understand when you’re a little older.”

“Aw…”

“And hopefully not in an intimate way,” said Brutos. He received a loud cough from No Clue, and a successful whack on the head from Blueblood.

“I still don’t get it,” Aurora said, pouting.

The conversation drifted again, towards school. Having not seen her cousin for a good while, Aurora wanted to know everything that had happened to him—a request that Blueblood happily obliged. The added commentary from Clue, and the snide-and-side-corrections from Brutos, delighted her to no end, almost as much as Blueblood’s indignation from the contributions.

“Wow! It sounds like a lot of fun at Canterlot! If it weren’t for the fact that I’m already doing so well at Winnipiac, I’d want to go!”

“Oh, please don’t,” Blueblood groaned. “I barely survive there on a day-to-day basis.”

“You’d like it there, I think,” No Clue said. “It’s a lot of fun, once you get over being the new kid. Speaking from personal experience.”

“Y-yeah. I think I really would like it there,” she said, and her face became like a tomato.

Yep. Weird but adorable.

The two cousins began to argue and bicker again, with Brutos acting as a somewhat amused mediator between them. No Clue’s thoughts began drift to other things. He thought of this situation with a farm feeling in his chest. Being here, among friends—yes, friends—was, indeed, a beautiful, little moment. Already he felt closer to these kids than he had with anyone else.

His thoughts shifted to darker territory. This was what it was supposed to be like, wasn’t it? With Artifex. Had things gone correctly and not gone astray, had things been fine, had things been more than just things, would No Clue have sat in Artifex’s room, with whomever he called family, eating cookies, laughing at the antics of another? Would he be smiling as he smiled now? Would he have felt this warmth?

He pushed the thought away. It sounded like he was comparing this friendship to that broken one; and that made this friendship anything but valid. Blueblood, Brutos, and Aurora didn’t deserve that. They deserved No Clue’s full attention, his full compassion; his entire companionship.

Blueblood had said something. Aurora made a quip. Blueblood bristled and fumed. Brutos laughed. Yes; this was where No Clue was. And he was happy. So he forcibly evaporated the thought, and put on a bright smile, and was back in the present, and was glad.

No Clue’s mother called; he was to come home pronto. Brutos decided as well that now was a good time to get going. Blueblood agreed; no matter what home you came from, a mother’s wrath for tardiness was universal in ferocity, and he did not wish such a fate upon them.

Oz handed them their belongings once they had reached the bottom of the stairs. They thanked the butler for his assistance, and he responded in kind for their presence. “Master Blueblood knows how to pick his guests,” he said with a little bow.

They exchanged some more pleasantries, even a handshake and pat on their backs. No Clue thanked Blueblood profusely for the opportunity. He found himself shaking his head in response. That boy is far too earnest for his own good, he thought with a smile.

Then they left, quickly and quietly, smiles on their faces, backpacks strapped to them. Blueblood watched them go, feeling somehow satisfied. Despite the hiccups and despite this being the first time he had compatriots over, he felt things had gone just as well as they could have.

“That went pretty well, don’t you think, Blue-Blue?”

His lips twisted into a sour frown, but he kept his composure and nodded. “Yes, I believe it very well did. No thanks to you, I might add.”

“Hey! I provided the loveable cousin atmosphere that was necessary!”

“‘Loveable?’ Mmm, that’s a moot point.” He turned to face her, frown morphing into a wicked smirk. “Though, I suppose for you, it was entirely necessary, wasn’t it?”

“W-what do you mean?” she stuttered, straightening her glasses.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean.” He laughed, sharp and loud. “I never thought I’d see the day when my own cousin, Aurora Veil, would fall head-over-heels for my friend!”

“H-hey! I didn’t—I’m not—I—”

“Oh, don’t bother denying it, little cousin,” he said, tone softening and his smirk becoming a smile. “Honestly, I could not have picked a better candidate to be your object of obsession.”

She blushed furiously. “I’m not obsessed with him!”

“Not yet, at least.”

“Blue-Blue!”

“That’s what they all say, Aurora. First you’re not obsessed, and the next moment, you’re collecting pictures, likes and dislikes, compiling a list… if you want, I can maybe find some stray strands of hair left on my bed for you to gush over about.”

She stomped her foot angrily, but her blush betrayed her. “I—I don’t have a crush on No Clue!”

He kept smiling. “Who said anything about this person being No Clue?”

She paused, and then gasped and covered her mouth, realizing her mistake far too late. Blueblood laughed again. “Oh, this is just precious. Remind me, how long are you going to be staying over?”

“F-for a good month or so…”

“I suppose I’ll have to invite Nostradamus over more often, won’t I? And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“N-now, Blueblood, I’m—I’m not—”

“Just say thank you, Aurora. You’re lucky I’m not using this information for blackmail.”

She hesitated, hesitated; then nodded slowly. “O-okay. Th-thanks, Blue…”

He smiled, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey; anything for my annoying but loveable cousin, right?” He stepped away.

Suddenly, she surged forward, and hugged him tightly. “You’re the best cousin a girl could ask for, you know that?” she said into his chest.

Awkwardly hugging her back, he replied, “Just don’t go asking for any more favors in the future, would you?”

“Can’t promise anything.”

Author's Notes:

Proofread by FrostGuardian and Celtic Fire.

Thanks to them for coming up with the name for Blueblood's cousin!