A harsh pounding sound awoke Blueblood from his slumber. "Wha…? Where am I?" he wondered aloud to himself. Slowly, the memories came back: The Key of Star Swirl, Arabus, the debacle of a ritual. Did all those really happen? No, it must have been a dream he decided. A quick look around the room, however, told him otherwise.
The pounding continued. "Your highness, are you alright? You've been gone for a while. Is something wrong?" called a voice from beyond the door, "Your highness…?"
"I...I'm fine," shouted Blueblood drowsily, "I was just taking a nap. I'll be out in a moment." It was a strange lie. His servants knew he never took naps but at the time, he could think of no other excuse. Glancing out the window, he saw the sky was a deep shade of purple. It was nearly time for the gala to begin, and he knew Celestia would expect him to be present. Pulling himself up, he stretched himself, smoothed the wrinkles from his coat, and combed his mane before heading out.
If Blueblood was still sorrowful over his academic standing, he gave no sign of it as he mingled with those at the gala. He smiled happily as he had his picture taken with many fans, signed autographs, met the Wonderbolts again, and chatted who wanted to meet him.
The fact of the matter was, however, that Blueblood hated every moment of it. To be honest, he had never been a very social pony and hated loud places. In addition, with his midterm examination in his divination class coming up, all he wanted to do was study. He knew, however, that as noble a reason for missing the gala as that was, his aunt would still want him to play his part in the gala, greeting the guests and making their night as fun as possible.
Deciding he had had enough socializing for the moment, he headed off to the Canterlot Gardens to introspect. As he walked through the garden, he took a deep breath and calmly observed his train of thoughts. The peaceful atmosphere of the garden was perfect for this. "So, why exactly am I such a failure at magic?" he began, "But I suppose, before I ask myself that, I should ask myself why it even matters. I mean, seriously, my mind is nothing but a series of chemical reactions in some gross device of matter called a "brain" and all the laws and social customs of society are simply illusions the mind constructs to help give life a false sense of meaning. My lifetime is but a second in eternity and a century from my death, will anyone remember me or the things which I have accomplished? That is, of course, assuming I ever manage to accomplish anything at all? But what of my classmates. There will come a time when they too are no longer remembered. They will fade away into oblivion the same way everypony else has as well." Blueblood knew he was getting carried off at this point, but he couldn't stop himself. "Suppose," he wondered, "that there really was a reason for living life. That life really did hold some meaning, some ultimate lesson to learn or reward to receive for bearing with the suffering it delivers. No, this can not be the case. Though as a prince, I should have plenty of reason to be happy, happiness itself is an illusion, as are all emotions as well which come and go. And should I ever find…"
He stopped as he heard movement behind him. "Ugh, great," he thought to himself, "More ponies who want to meet royalty. There are certainly many aspects about being a prince that fairy tales seem to completely ignore."
As a prince, however, Blueblood had been brought up and taught to act like one. Among the skills he had been required to develop was a strict control over his body and facial expressions. If he had to fake an emotion, he was trained to do so. If he had to conceal an emotion, he could do that easily as well. His body never betrayed his thoughts. And so it was that though Blueblood beheld the most drop-dead gorgeous mare he had ever seen when he turned around, his expression remained that of, how shall I put it, meh. Still, though he looked thoroughly unimpressed on the outside, his heart began racing once more. Desperately, he struggled for something to say to this mare, more stunning than anypony who had ever come out of Canterlot's upper class. He decided, at last, to go with something rather mundane. "Well hello," he said, "I am Prince Blueblood."
To Blueblood's delight, the mare seemed quite excited to hear him speak. "I am… Rarity. Oh my, what a lovely rose."
Suddenly, a familiar icy feeling spread throughout Blueblood's body. As it did so, he found himself unable to control his movements. "You mean... this rose? Thank you. It goes with my eyes." he said as he lifted the rose Rarity had spoken of into his pocket.
Blueblood was horrified. What was going on? Though he still retained his ability to think, his body acted without his willed intent. His voice spoke words, though they were not his words. He could only watch passively as his body went through the actions of life, completely powerless to stop it.