He couldn't help but chuckle a bit. Sometimes they just made it too easy.

Love Letter had spent the past month wondering how he was going to make himself stand out this year. Sure, he'd always been a good mailpony. In fact, he was largely considered the fourth best in the teeming Canterlot post office. And besides the strange-voiced mailmare from Ponyville, very few others from Equestria had truly risen to the challenge. But Love Letter wasn't content just being good anymore. He wanted to be the best.

Which is why it particularly surprised him when nopony volunteered to do the Valentine's shipment to the castle. What an honor! The Princesses would be so happy to receive their mail that they would speak to his superiors! We are very proud of this young stallion. He has delivered our mail with great expediency, and we demand he be promoted to head of delivery! Imagine a proclamation like that, in the Royal Canterlot voice! The other mailponies had really dropped the ball this time, he thought, as he pushed open the door to the sorting room.

"So you're the sucker this year, huh?"

Instantly, Love Letter realized the voice was referring to him. Its owner, a blue-clad pegasus sat stuffing the last red envelope into a brown mail sack. Twenty more bags lay strewn across the room, and each one was stuffed with heart-covered envelopes, full to bursting. They looked like overfed leeches. He could barely find the words. "Are these..."

"This..." the pegasus said, gesturing to the mass of bags, "is your delivery for Prince Blueblood. Have fun, kiddo." He disappeared out the same door Love Letter entered through, leaving the tan colt frozen on the spot, mouth hanging open in shock. A few seconds later, the pegasus stuck his head back in the room. "Oh yeah. Happy birthday, kid!"

By the time he reached the castle, Love Letter wasn't entirely convinced that he was still alive. He had anticipated several bags of valentines, to be evenly split between the members of the Royal Household. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the animal magnetism of Prince Blueblood and his appeal to Equestria's female population. It had always struck him as rather odd that there seemed to be so many more mares than stallions. How exactly does a population grow like that?

Instead, he had a full wagon that seemed to sap his energy with every step. He was bigger than most ponies his age, but he was hardly a giant, and his hooves felt like they were about to fall off. After giving his sweaty mane a shake, he looked back at his load with narrowed eyes. "What are these mares sending him? Bricks?"

After the short but grueling walk that led him to the front door of Blueblood's private residence, Love Letter barely had the energy to lift his hoof to knock. So he couldn't help but smile when he saw a small doorbell in a gold inlay next to the heavy cedar doors. He sighed in relief as he gingerly tapped the button.

Within an instant, the air was filled with a fanfare of trumpets. Love Letter clapped his hooves over his ears as the horns swelled, and the door seemed to vibrate as another ordinance joined in louder than the first. As the kettledrums began to roll, sounding not unlike the firing of cannons, the mail colt began to fear that he might have accidentally triggered an Equestrian battle inside the royal chambers. But eventually the doorbell ceased its peal, and Love Letter was left with only the ringing in his ears.

The door swung open, perhaps with a loud creak. Love Letter couldn't tell. The butler pony stuck his head out through the doorway and seemed to mouth "cubbin".

"WHAT'S A CUBBIN?" yelled Love Letter, over the buzzing in his head.

The butler stepped back with a grimace. He gave the young stallion a disdainful look and mouthed slower. It still looked like "cubbin".

"IS THAT YOUR NAME? HELLO, CUBBIN! I'M HERE WITH PRINCE BLUEBLOOD'S MAIL. CAN I COME IN?" He chose to take the servant's facehoof as a royal sign of acknowledgement. He gave his shoulders a quick stretch before bringing the cart all the way into the main hall.

His hearing must have been coming back, as he heard the large doors shut behind him with a heavy "thud." The butler grumbled something about being right back before disappearing into a side room.

"Wow," said Love Letter. "Some ponies are rude." The last word echoed through the empty hall, bouncing off of exquisite tapestries and stained glass windows, all of which seemed to have the Prince's face on them. In some he was looking down upon smiling ponies with a disinterested air. In others he was surrounded by swarms of mares with hearts where their eyes should have been. And there was one of Prince Blueblood wearing sunglasses, sitting in a bathtub, and eating buffalo wings.

"That is a personal favorite of ours."

Love Letter looked up to the source of the voice. At the top of the stairs, the immaculately white unicorn stood, dressed in a dark red dressing gown. He gave his blonde mane a shake, sending an almost visible wave of charisma rippling through the room. The mailcolt could only stare.

"Are those for us?" asked the Prince.

Love Letter nodded.

"Please be so kind as to place them all on that carpet in front of you."

He looked down at the circular rug in front of the stairwell. It was an astounding creation. Clearly hoofwoven, it represented a large Equestrian insignia, almost as big as Love Letter's cramped Canterlot apartment. His initial reaction was to protest putting a bunch of overused mailsacks on a carpet that not only seemed to be worth more than his coworkers' houses, but really tied the room together. But a glance upward and a nod from the Prince made him acquiesce with just a solemn nod.

Several minutes later, once all the bags were in a pile on the rug, the sweating colt took a few steps back from the rug, and through his pants gave a small chuckle. "There you go, your majesty. They're all ready for you to enjoy! I have to admit," he said, casting a glance at the mound, "I'm a little jealous."

Prince Blueblood laughed. "I understand being jealous of me, lad. But what do all these letters have to do with it?"

"Well, your majesty...it has to feel pretty great to be the idol of all those mares!"

Blueblood smiled, and trotted over to a small table, upon which sat a small globe. "Yes, it most certainly does. Stand back, please." Before Love Letter could ask what the prince meant, His Majesty closed his eyes for a second, and his horn glowed with golden magic. An originally invisible seam opened in the globe and it flipped open in front of the Prince, revealing a large red button. He slammed one perfectly-manicured hoof onto the button, and the rug split in half, spilling all the letters into the burning furnace.

A second later, the room was back to normal, except for the disipating cloud of smoke, all that was left of the romantic fantasies of hundreds of mares.

As the globe slammed closed again, Blueblood mimed wiping his hooves clean. "Good riddance to bad rubbish, I always say." He froze mid-chuckle as he looked down the stairs at the colt, who sat on his hindquarters with his head hung low. The Prince tried to read his expression, but the mailpony's cap blocked his view. Tentatively, he began to descend the stairs. Upon getting closer, he was confused by the strange low sounds coming from the pony. Blueblood wasn't used to hearing ponies sob.

Love Letter stared at the rug. He wasn't sure why he was so upset. Part of it was that he had busted his hump for nothing. Another part was that he had really hoped to have something to show for his extra effort today. But all of that just seemed like work nonsense, when he thought of the fate of those letters. All those messages of love, confessions of secret affections and desires, the summed-up courage of countless ponies, reduced to ashes in seconds. And no one had even remembered his birthday.

Blueblood jumped back as Love Letter exploded into tears. He knew that nobleponies' tears were easily enough washed out of clothing and bedsheets, but commoner tears were something new and potentially hazardous. All the same, Blueblood felt a strange tugging in his heart, which spurred him to approach the despairing colt. The Prince would later attribute this to indigestion, but it was actually a spontaneous feeling that he was even less used to: compassion.

"What's wrong?"

Love Letter sniffed. "How could you?"

"It was easy, I just hit that button..."

"That's not what I meant!" Blueblood almost took another step back, unaccustomed to being yelled at. But he let the colt continue. "All those letters...those ponies loved you!"

The Prince took a glance at the rug, then back at the colt and chuckled. When he was met with an angry glare from the mailpony, he took on a more serious demeanor. "Do you think most of those mares have even met me?"

"Well..." Love Letter sniffed again, and wiped his muzzle with a hoof, causing Blueblood to cringe. "...maybe some of them, but I guess most of them haven't."

"Guessing is not necessary. They haven't. Those are letters from ponies who have decided that their affection for my gorgeous mane, my impeccable sense of style, or the fact that I am the very symbol of a sexy stallion specimen is the same thing as love. Let me tell you something, dear boy. It is not."

"But... nopony ever gives me anything. It was my birthday yesterday, and nopony remembered. And I haven't gotten even one Valentine." The colt's head sunk again, but this time, the Prince lifted it up in his own hooves.

"Well, first of all, its still a little early for Valentine's, unless you're one of the Royal Family. I'll probably be getting another couple wagonloads, and I will treat them exactly the same way." Prince Blueblood gave the colt a warm smile. "And as for your birthday, I'm sorry that nopony remembered. But consider this a belated present." And he pressed his lips to the mailpony's.

Love Letter's eyes went wide as his senses were overwhelmed by the Prince's aroma: it was more delicate than he would have anticipated. And it was sweet, like ambrosia. He allowed his eyes to slowly shut as that warm, royal breath flowed into his lungs, and the hypnotic flavor gave him the confidence to allow his tongue to stretch out, only to meet the Prince's powerful muscle, already invading his own mouth with determination. Blueblood had a talent for getting what he wanted, and Love Letter wasn't interested in fighting. He tilted his head into the kiss and returned it with equal ardor.

The kiss broke, almost too soon for the young pony, but the look in the Prince's eyes convinced him that his day was far from over. He hooked a hoof between his neck and his tie, and with a smooth downward motion, opened it up, allowing the first of his many pants to come out with ease. Love Letter looked up at the Prince with a slight smile. "Did you want to... "

The Prince nodded, and flashed a bigger smile, before motioning the mailpony up the stairs. As the younger passed, the Prince craned out his neck and gave Love Letter's stamp cutie mark a long lick. The colt immediately flushed and turned around. Blueblood pretended to swirl the taste in his mouth like a food critic. "Hmm...it takes just like..."

Love Letter had heard this joke before. "Don't say it."

"I think you mean, 'don't say it, your majesty'". The Prince began to trot up the stairs after the mailcolt.

"So do I need to call you 'your majesty' the whole time?"

"Oh, I don't think so..." mused Blueblood before closing the bedroom door. "I don't expect you to have enough breath for that."