Fleur Dis Lee usually liked to make herself up. She could emphasize any part of her face, according to where she went, or the ponies she met. An official reception, and she would apply foundation, making her composure as formal as the party requested. A dinner with friends, and she would have lipstick, lightening her smile to greet the ponies she cared about. A romantic night with Fancy, and some mascara on her eyelashes would melt his heart every time she batted them. She couldn’t really believe that, even after ten years, he would still fall for that trick. She loved being able to show each of her best sides to every one of them.

Today, for the first time, she wasn’t looking forward to it. She couldn’t imagine getting herself ready for their guest. He wasn’t worth of any of her make-up. Everything he could be was completely alien to her. Every fiber of her being, from her hooves to her horn was the exact opposite of who he was. Unfortunately, this pony had recently joined the private circle of Fancy’s friends, and for her husband, she wanted to look happy to welcome him.

She was gazing at her reflection, hoping to find an answer to her dilemma, when Fancy Pants’ voice called for help.

“Honey, could you come here for a moment please?”

She hastily put the bare minimum of make-up to be at least presentable, and, in a way satisfied, she went for the bathroom. She found her stallion nearly choking, a mess of knots around his neck.

“Would you help me with this bloody bow tie? I think I’ve missed a step.”

A small smile crept on Fleur’s face. She freed him from his near-hanging with her magic, leaving him with a perfectly tied bow tie.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, dear,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“You’d probably be found dead by our servants, and I wouldn’t have to greet the Prince.”

Fancy Pants frowned. “I know you don’t like him, honey, but I can assure you he has changed. Blueblood has made a lot of progress; he isn’t the stallion you used to know.”

“I didn’t need to know him before,” she replied. “He has acquired quite the reputation in Canterlot.”

“Don’t tell me you listen to the rumors.”

“They are more than rumors, Fancy. Almost every time his name is mentioned in a conversation, I always hear the same things, even from his admirers. Nothing is sacred for him. He doesn’t have any respect for the Harmony and Celestia’s cult, claiming that believing is the opium for the simple-minded ponies. And do you want to know how many different conquests these rumors are giving him? More than two hundreds, Fancy, more than two hundreds.”

Fancy Pants sighed. “I heard them too. But, you know, maybe some ponies aren’t meant to remain faithful like us. I mean, we may have evolved and aren’t living in herds anymore, but I believe some ponies still think and act like our ancestors.”

“He doesn’t even respect his own aunt’s cult,” she exclaimed.

“Probably because he knows her well, and how she isn’t as almighty as ponies think she is. I’m sure he’s simply teasing the most devoted believers, just to make them fly off the handle a bit.”

A knock and a voice came from behind the door. “Prince Blueblood has arrived, sir. Shall I make him enter?”

“Yes, Tailcoat, thank you” replied Fancy Pants. “We’ll come downstairs in a minute.” He then turned back to her wife, putting his hoof on her cheek. “I understand you’re not really happy about all this, but can you give him a chance? I promise if things go bad, I’ll consider seeing him outside of our house.”

“I’ll try,” said Fleur, pouting.

“That’s all I can ask from you,” he said, kissing her.

---

The dinner had gone by, and the dessert was about to be served.

If she was honest with herself, Fleur Dis Lee had to reconsider her opinion on Blueblood. From the moment he had come inside and until now, he had been one of the most pleasant guests she had ever entertained: polite, obliging, knowing when he could talk and when he should keep quiet. The exact opposite of who she remembered and who she had pictured from hearsay. As for his appearance, even though a few strands of grey hair were whietening his already blond mane, time had been merciful with him. He was still as handsome as he were, and the years had given him a certain maturity, both in his look and in his stature, erasing the naivety from his beauty.

The only thing a bit odd was the glances he would giving her when Fancy wasn’t looking. She knew she was far from being an ugly mare, and she could appreciate stallions eyeing her, but he had this little glint in his eyes that made her feel uncomfortable. Desire, lust, or carnality, she couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, she wasn’t about to make a scene just for that, she knew better.

“Because of that, the market should be crawling with carrots next year,” said the Prince. “If you want to be the one who fix the sell price, it’s time to invest now.”

“I’m not really into that field,” replied Fancy. “But I know one or two friends who would be very interested in this information.”

Blueblood raised a hoof. “As long as you tell them where it comes from.”

“You know me,” said Fancy Pants, faking shock.

Blueblood took a sip of his wine, winking at her.

Either he still has a few bad habits from his past life, or he has trained himself to hide them, thought Fleur. It was time to unveil the truth.

“By the way Prince,” she said — he had insisted she simply called him Blueblood but she couldn’t resolve to do it. “I’m surprised the Countess isn’t with us tonight. Is she feeling ill?”

He took the time to put back his glass on the table before answering without any trace of regret in his voice. “I’m afraid to say I had to put an end to our relationship. The Countess, as sweet as she was, had lost her appeal for a few months. Alas, freshness charms don’t last long. You know how it is, Fancy.”

Fleur glared at her husband, daring him to agree with the Prince.

“However, Lady Luck, that fickle mistress, gave me the chance to meet this young lady, Miss Silk,” he added. “I’ve been able to find solace between her hooves.”

“I apologise,” said Fancy with a smile. “But I have a hard time picturing you, Blueblood, a famous Casanova, being distraught by a break-up.”

Blueblood looked a bit sad. “Believe it or not, my friend, despite all the relationships I had, I’m always a bit nostalgic of what I lived with these mare. I sometimes envy you both.”

“Would you say you can remember each one of your lovers?” asked Fleur, not really convinced by his claim. “Allow me to doubt that.”

Blueblood simply smiled. “Doubt it however you want, Miss Dis Lee. Every mare I've been with was unique in her own way, and I'll always cherish that.”

“You surely had one mare who left a great mark on you,” said Fancy Pants. “A mare with who you'd like to start everything again, if that was possible.”

Blueblood waited for the servants to serve the apple pudding. He took a small bite before replying. “Honestly, I wish I could do that with every one of them. However, there is still one among them all who still shines brighter than the others in my memory.”

“Would you mind sharing that story?” asked Fancy.

“Not at all,” said Blueblood. “It was years ago. I wasn't a young stallion anymore, but I wasn't old enough to be called a stallion. It all happened when I was seeing Lady Rarity.”

Fleur Dis Lee almost spat her mouth full of pudding. Luckily, all these years attending official parties had trained her to keep her composure whatever was happening.

So she gulped and raised an eyebrow. “Lady Rarity, Really?”

“The one and only,” said the Prince, smiling.

"I can't believe it," exclaimed Fleur. “I thought she wouldn't let you come closer after the fiasco at the Grand Galloping Gala.”

“Miss Dis Lee,” he said with a condescending tone. “Learn that no pony can hold a grudge for that long, especially mares. They are better than us, stallions, in every way. They have too much love to be resentful for more than a year, and Lady Rarity wasn’t an exception. So after sabotaging that night, I started sending her letters.”

Fancy Pants gasped. “Hold on, are you saying that your behaviour at the Gala was a part of your plan?”

“Yes, my friend. I hadn’t opened my mouth that Lady Rarity was already at my hooves. I had to do something if I didn’t want things to be too easy. You know what they say, victory without risks brings triumph without glory.”

Fleur wanted to puke. Blueblood’s mask was falling, and he was showing his true nature more and more. Her husband, however, seemed to be completely enthralled by the Prince’s tell.

“So was she the one?” he asked.

“Let me finish my story first.”

---

“I’ve always heard that our strongest love isn’t the first, nor the last, but our second, as many believe. When it comes to love, everything is right and wrong, and, as for me, well, it wasn't the case.”

“After several months and a lot of letters, I managed to break her bitterness, and she started to see me in a new light. A few dates later, and her resolution collapsed. I moved in with her, and the time we spent together was one of the sweetest I’ve ever known.”

“You know Lady Rarity, she is the most passionate mare, pretty, witty, with the intelligence of an artist, and natural. She had no other intent than to please me, and be the tenderest lover and the best friend.”

“I wasn’t the first stallion in her life. I believe she had known other stallions between our first meeting at the Galla and the moment we started our relationship. She had loved once, but it was a virtuous, platonic love, which trains the heart more than it fills it, and which prepares its strengths for another love that must follow. She was at that point when I came into her life.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that, despite her experience and her passion, she was inexpert to touch? Inexpert to touch like she was ardent in life. The stallion she loved had to constantly teach her things she had never learned. She had love however, but she lacked the art of love. She was the opposite of so many mares, who only had the art!”

“So we lived an intimacy, which had some storms but no heartbreak, and this intimacy wasn’t a mystery for anypony in the small town of Ponyville. Because of her passion, and also because of one of her friend, Rarity couldn’t hide anything, even if she wanted to. Her little sister, who was fourteen despite her innocence, could clearly see the feelings her older sister had for me.”

“I don’t know which poet had wondered what could think the little fillies whom we love the elders. An interesting question I often asked to myself when I caught her look, mean and threatening, from the bottom of her deep green eyes. The filly often left the room when I came, or putting herself as far as she could from me when she had to stay. She tried to hide the repulsion I was inspiring her, but her disgust was stronger than her, and it betrayed her. It showed in imperceptible details. ‘You had to be careful’ Rarity often told me. ‘I think my sister is jealous of you.’”

“At the beginning of my relationship with Lady Rarity, I had for this filly all the small attentions we had for the younglings. I brought her some candies. I called her ‘little bell’. And when I was speaking with Rarity, I usually stroked her curly mane. But the ‘little bell’, whom the cute mouth always had a pretty smile for everyone, frowned, tensing her body under my touch.”

“Seeing anything could please the little devil, I decided to leave her be, not even speaking to her. ‘She feels you’re stealing from her’, told me Rarity. ‘Her instinct tells her you’re taking a portion of love from her sister.’ Sometimes, she added: ‘This filly is my conscience, her jealousy my remorse.’ Rarity had tried to question her, but all she could get from her was ‘I’m fine’, ‘I don’t know’, or ‘it’s nothing’. She gave up on finding an answer.”

“I don’t know if you remember, but her sister was very pious. She twisted her body around all sorts of scapulars, and was often seen wearing Harmony’s icons. ‘You’re unfortunately an impious’ told me Rarity one day. ‘You may have scandalised her with a bad word. Be careful of what you’re saying, please. Don’t worsen my faults to the sister to whom I’m already feeling guilty enough.’”

“So I put between us the politeness we have between grown ponies who don’t like each other. I called her ‘Miss’ and she replied with a cold ‘Mister’. She didn’t want to do anything that could put herself in a good light in front of me. No matter what she tried, Lady Rarity couldn’t bring her sister to show me one of her drawing, or play the piano for me. When I caught her, enraptured in her lesson, playing with great care and fervour, she immediately stopped, got up from the stool, and didn’t play anymore.”

“Only once, Rarity had forced her to play for everyone — she was hosting a small gathering — so the ‘little bell’ put herself in front of the instrument. She had one of this expression; it wasn’t pretty. She started playing a melody I can’t remember, and I was looking at her sidewise. Her back was facing me, and there wasn’t any mirror in which she could have seen I was watching. Suddenly, her whole body tensed up, like if I had broken her spine only with my gaze, and, knocking the top of the piano down in a terrible sound, she ran away from the living room. They tried to bring her back, but nothing they could say would have made her move.”

“This moody filly’s behaviour didn’t give me anything to think about what she was thinking of me, and neither her sister. We lived our love for two years, before life called me for other horizons. I kept in touch with Lady Rarity, and one day, long after our flame had been extinguished, I met her at a Summer Sun Celebration. We were having a pleasant and common conversation, when she told me something quite unexpected.”

---

“Prince Blueblood, do you remember Gold Virtue, the Ponyvillian priest? — she asked me. He came to me one day, looking troubled, he who is usually very placid. ‘My lady,’ he said. ‘You find me very embarrassed. I’ve run the Harmony Church for fifty years, but I’ve never been tasked with something so sensitive. Sweetie Belle, your sister, who is an angel of purity, the same filly I’ve baptised when she was still a baby, she came to me to confess something incredible. I’m convinced she’s mistaking but… she told me, this morning, that, I must tell you, that she was... pregnant!’”

“I let out a scream. Like him, maybe even more, I was sure of my sister’s innocence; but the innocents often fall… What she said to her confessor wasn’t impossible. I couldn’t believe it; I didn’t want to believe it! She was only fourteen, but she was already a mare, and her precocity itself had scared me. I needed to know, so I came to her room. She was bowing low before her Harmonic Star, her eyes red and dry. I took her between my legs and made her sit next to me, telling her I couldn’t believe what I had heard from Gold Virtue. She sweared it was the truth, sobbing and shaking. ‘It has to be a very important pony for you to be so ashamed,’ I told her. ‘Who is he?’”

“She kept quiet for an eternity when suddenly, she whined: ‘Promise me you’ll forgive me, Rarity.’ I promised her everything, even though I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t betray her trust.”

“‘It’s… Prince Blueblood,’ she said in a quivering voice. ‘Prince Blueblood?’ I exclaimed. ‘But you’re always fleeing him! Have you both hidden something from me?’”

“She looked at me, begging for forgiveness. ‘No… It was during a night… He was in the big armchair next to the fireplace. He had stayed here a long time, and when he left, I went to sit where he was… Oh, Rarity! It’s like I had fallen in fire… I wanted to get up, but I couldn’t… And I felt… here, right there!’ — she put my hoof on her belly — ‘right there, I felt I had… something… a baby!’”

---

“Here it is, Miss Dis Lee, Fancy,” said Blueblood. “The greatest love I’ve ever inspired in my life.”

Fleur looked back and forth between the Prince and her husband. The former had an insufferable smirk on his face, while the latter had his mouth wide opened.

“What happened to Sweetie Belle?” asked Fancy Pants.

“Oh, she was already dead, young and married on the other side of Equestria, when her sister told me the story.”

Pretending she was tired, Fleur asked the Prince to leave them so she could have some rest. Once her husband had closed the door behind him, he turned and faced her.

“So? What did you think?” he asked, apparently genuine.

Fleur, her teeth clenched, let out a growl. “He will never put a hoof again inside this house. Is that perfectly clear?”

She didn’t wait for him to reply and left him for the bathroom. She needed a shower to clean her body and her mind from all of this. A very long and cold shower.