Nightlife (Day 1) (Rom-Com, Cloppish, Artemis x Guard)

__Foreword__

Presently, this is an ongoing soft CYOA (actions are based on suggestions and chosen by their popularity and a little of my own discretion) fiction started as a Valentine's Day special feature.
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It's not at all easy being the prince of the night.

Certainly, to an outside observer, you may appear to quite possibly be the luckiest stallion in Equestria- seated comfortably in a position devoid of responsibilities, that yet affords you dozens of beautiful, wealthy and influential mares simply dying to spend even a single night in your bed, and every luxury the land of Equestria could offer brought to you at your merest fancy.

And, yes, that's mostly correct.
Actually, that's entirely correct.

But what most ponies don't realise is that your seemingly idle lifestyle actually stems from the fact that being imprisoned in the moon for a thousand years has left you mostly unfit to serve in an official capacity. Even after your patient and understanding big brother Solaris took a great deal of time out of his day to explain to you the principles of democracy, the roles of elected officials, and the mechanics of a universal healthcare system (most of which went entirely over your head, if you're honest), you managed to convince him of your incompatibility with the finer details of modern politics when, while presiding over your very first diplomatic assembly after being released from your magical imprisonment, you ordered the honourable ambassador of the zebra nation to fetch you a glass of water.

That's not to say your position is completely void of responsibility, however. Despite your cosmic telekinesis being a tad rusty, You still convene with your brother each dawn and dusk to help facilitate the transition between day and night. Usually. Like, when you remember to.

But as far as Solaris is concerned, he handled the motion of the heavens fine by himself for the last millennia, so it's no issue if your schedule leaves you too busy to attend or if, on the odd occasion, you find yourself slightly... Impotent. Mystically speaking.

As for the mares, that's a whole other problem you have to contend with, and the problem certainly isn't impotence. Or... Not that you're aware of, anyway. No, your godlike endowment and endurance as 'prince of the night' is no question at all, at least as far as the mares of Equestria and the Canterlot royal court are concerned. Your lovemaking prowess has actually become something of a modern-day legend and you're not exactly sure how, although you suspect Prince Cadence might have had a hoof in it, perhaps in another one of his misguided attempts to 'help you out'. And then again, with the actual literal prince of bucking love himself hitched to the captain of the guard (and who could have missed a massive wedding service like that, aside of course for you, having slept through the entire day's events), mares are hardly going to be lining up around the castle to have a go at riding Prince Busy-Absolutely-All-The-Time off into the sunset.

But you digress. Despite the hordes of eligible and enviable mares practically battling for your attention, not a one has been invited to your tower for a polite sampling of exotic cheeses and fine wine, to the most shady and secluded corner of the moon-lit castle gardens for a private recitation of lilting poetry, or into the pantry behind the exotic cheese wheels and fine wine racks for a brisk shag (despite the matchmaking attempts and encouraging words of Cadence, the only pony who intimately knows of your in fact total lack of carnal experience, because of his bucking love magic or some other reason you haven't quite worked out yet). Each day and each night, you turn them down, excusing yourself to retire to your solitary tower to gaze at the stars or tend to your roses or some such bullshit you've made up. And for reasons beyond your comprehension as a prince, scholar, patron of the arts, and semi-divine immortal being, this just seems to make them try harder.

But the true reason you dodged the amorous advances of the fairer sex for your entire, long first reign, and have maintained the tradition promisingly steadily into your new reign is not astrology or horticulture, nor is it (as Starswirl the Bearded insisted back in the day when Solaris tried to get him too out of the castle and into the dating scene) to prevent them from draining your mana. It is because you have never been... Interested in mares, in that way. They're pretty and all, but you never really felt the same excitement some of your guards expressed when a comely maiden crossed their patrol route with a brisk flick of the tail, and a wink... And a wink.
"Tis from whence foals cometh", you'd think to yourself. "Most undesirable".

And yet, when a regiment of your guard deliver their marching display in devotion for you, proud and resplendent in the glistening purple and obsidian-black contours of that ceremonial armour that Solaris occasionally observed shows just a little too much fetlock (and in your opinion just a little too little flank), some nights you would feel a stirring in your chest and down below, and it would take all your years of mental discipline and training to hold the dirty thoughts at bay long enough for the display to end, at which point you would hurriedly dismiss yourself so that you may take a long, solitary soak in a very chilly moonlit lake. You hid your feelings from both others and yourself beneath a shroud of mysteriousness and self-denial back then, and now, more than a thousand years later, you carry on the masquerade. Despite what Solaris told you when he escorted you from the western meeting hall after apologising profusely to the delegates of the zebra nation, you're not sure things can have changed that much from when you were at the peak of your influence... And even if they have, you're not certain that you could.

Which is what makes this as painful as it is. It can only be some new torment directed at you by a force beyond your understanding, but with only two weeks to go before Hearts And Hooves Day, you have fallen hopelessly in love.

For a long time, you have been in the habit of having the five or so of your royal guard responsible for the defence of your tower and person, as well as carrying out errands or personal tasks as they arise, cycled out of this post every few weeks, to be replaced by a new handful of guards. When this rolls around, the guards are always told it is part of a carefully planned system to best maintain continued security in the palace and defend against infiltration, but in truth there hasn't been a problem with spies or infiltration of any kind for hundreds and hundreds of years. Well, until the royal wedding anyway, and it didn't do much good. The truth is that you do this so that your men don't have as much of an opportunity to realise you're not actually the suave, cultured playpony bachelor prince some ponies decided you must be.

But with the last changing of your guard, something was different. One of your new men was... Different to the others. The way he always seemed to have some shape or size of smile on that would brighten the night around him, even in the dullest hour of the nightshift. The way the fuzzy tips of his adorable batpony ears twitched against the cold night air every couple of minutes. The way the yellow of his eyes glittered magically when they captured the moonlight, and his helmet seemed to always fit just a little too big, so that a few curls of his smooth purple mane poked out over his brow and down one side of his head. He was funny, and interesting, and cute, and really, really handsome, and you felt all warm and fuzzy and nervous inside looking at him, like you could have just gazed down at his on his post on the castle wall from your balcony atop your tower all night long. And you tried it, except after a while he looked up and you think he might have seen you staring, so you had to pretend to be looking at the sky to make sure all the stars were in the right place for about half an hour before you went back inside. But you were just pretending. The stars don't really move anywhere, they just kind of hang in place without you having to lift a hoof.

So you poked through the dusty batbony service registry in the lower drawer of your desk, and you found his picture from the day he graduated from the academy, with that same amazing smile. And his name... Keith.

Keith? Keith...

... What a perfect name.

You swore then and there, on that very night, that he would be yours. That you would win his heart, and you would do so in time for Hearts And Hooves Day.

... Or, rather, you swore that after an entire uninterrupted week cloistered in your tower crying, wallowing in self-pity, and binging on ice-cream and video games to make the pain go away for a little while. It wasn't the first time, and it probably wouldn't be the last either. Normally the Canterlot tabloids write up a story about some week-long super-exclusive drug and sex party, and by the next week they have two or sometimes three mares giving their own accounts of the incredible experience. You were set on stretching this one out for two weeks, but the two guards outside your door told you they weren't going to bring any more ice cream, and that it was time for you to go outside. They said it was really for your own good, and that they'll drag you out if that's what it takes.

So... Just under one week. Hearts And Hooves day falls on a Friday this year, and with Solaris's harsh sunlight spilling through the fancy artisan windows and making your red and puffy eyes feel sore, you figure that makes this Saturday morning. You simply must win Keith's love in the next six days, or else... Well, nothing will actually happen. But you'll feel really, really bucking pathetic.

Doing your best to magically sort out your mane and comb out the kinks and supernovas, you stagger about looking for your crown, and eventually find it in the sink. You consider putting on your war-helmet, which is your usual choice for seemingly hopeless campaigns that can only end in disaster, but decide it's a bit too formal.

And so, groggily and still fighting back butterflies, you shamble out of your tower door and survey Canterlot and the rolling mountains of northern Equestria far below you, basked in the luminescent orange glow of morning. At first you think it's making you feel a bit sick, but then you remember it's just the ice cream.

Turning, you realise the two guards at your door have been saluting you all this time, and you raise a hasty and somewhat clumsy hoof in return.

"It's, uh... Good to see you're feeling better, your Highness."

You blink drearily at them and turn to leave, mumbling something about the weather.

Wandering uncertainly along the castle walls, you're concentrating so hard on putting one hoof firmly in-front of the other without stumbling while thinking desperately about what you'll say to Keith when you see him that you don't actually register his presence until you've already bumped into him. His armour chinks slightly at the unexpected flurry of movement as you both find your footing, and he turns to face you before bowing his head apologetically and looking at your hooves, a look of utter seriousness coming over him.

"Oh! I-I'm so sorry your Highness, I didn't see you there. It won't happen again."

You're not so royally deluded as to not recognise that this was completely your fault- he was standing absolutely still, exactly where he should have been, and you blundered right into him like an idiot.

"Y-you too..." you mutter, rubbing one fore-hoof with the other
Keith looks back up at you, one eyebrow raised, unsure.
"... Pardon me, your Highness?"
"O-okay..."
Keith has mostly returned to his authoritative guard-pony stance, though you're obviously confusing him greatly.
"Sorry?"
This is going well.
"N-Nevermind, Keith, 't-tis nothing..."

When his name slips from your mouth, his fuzzy ears perk up slightly, momentarily alarmed, but he quickly finds his composure, though he avoids your eyes.
"Ah... Sorry your highness, forgive me, I didn't expect you to know our names."
The next words dribble involuntarily up from your throat, leaving you helpless to do anything but listen.
"N-Nay! J-Just you. The name, I mean. That I-I doth know."
Keith's eyes actually narrow slightly, as he seems to examine you more closely, slightly uncertain.
"... I'm... I'm Artemis!"
You smile suddenly, in what you hope resembles an expression of friendliness, but from Keith's reaction may more resemble aggression, or some kind of unnatural hunger.
"Uh... Yes, your Highness, I know who you are..."

Keith leans in slightly as his eyes narrow yet further, as yours widen in terror. On another world, in another universe, your face might have been compared to a 'deer in the headlights'. You stand stock still, frozen.

"... Please excuse me your Highness, but are you aware that you have what appears to be... Vanilla ice cream around your lips?"
You're dead. That's the only explanation. You died from a sugar overdose, and this is Pony Hell. The royal Canterlot voice begins to slip back into your parlance, like a cat slipping back into your house with something dead and smelly dangling from it's mouth, for you.
"T-THAT'S NOT ICE CREAM."
First incomprehension, then alarm. What wouldn't you give for that confident, calm smile right about now.
"Oh... Oh? Oh. OH!"
You think you can feel the sweat accumulating on your face.
"N-NO, I MEAN- THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEAN. IT'S ICE CREAM. IT IS. D-DO YOU WANT SOME?!"
"... Ex.. Excuse me, your Highness?"
You feel your eyes starting to turn sore and red, and you think your nose has started to dribble. It takes all your effort not to start crying right then and there.
"Your Highness? Are you feeling all right?
Time for a tactical retreat. You practically trip over your own hooves and start to half-gallop away.

"D-DOYOUWANT-P-PLAYVIDEOGAMES"
"Your highness?!"
"I-I AM THE NIGHT!"
There is a flash of starlight from your horn, and you are gone, carried far, far away from this horrible scene by your magic, over the mountains, across the fields and forests and deserts, and far into the frozen wastelands.

Atop a balcony of glistening crystal near the peak of the shining palace nestled in the heart of the crystal kingdom, a flash of starlight is the only announcement of your arrival, amidst a midnight blizzard that immediately chills you to your core and has your teeth chattering. Night has already fallen over the crystal kingdom, it seems.

Shielding yourself from the bulk of the snowfall with a simple shield spell, you trudge towards the balcony door, still sniffling and breathing irregularly from your recent exchange with Keith.

Taking a moment to compose yourself and wipe away a string of wetness that had started sneaking down your muzzle from one nostril, as well as the dried ice cream, you then throw the ornate crystal doors open with a blast of magic and a howl of wind, swirls of ice and snow billowing inside from behind you. Prince Cadence and Shining Armour, together beneath the thick covers of a four-poster bed with rich red velvet drapes and pink satin sheets both yell out in surprise and pull the covers up to shield them from the icy wind. Shining, not too surprisingly, is the first to take charge of the situation, and does so quite loudly.

"For Solaris's sake, Artemis! Did you never learn how to knock? Shut that bucking door!"

You do so, slightly sheepishly, and address Prince Cadence in an uncharacteristically mild and pleading voice, as he already starts to pull back the sheets and climb into two pairs of fuzzy pink slippers.

"Cadence... I need advice..."
"And this, I'm guessing, is too important to wait until morning?"
"Verily. 'Tis about, uh... Well, you know... L-love?"

That grin makes you feel quite uncomfortable.

A small entourage of glistening, chiselled (possibly literally) crystal guards buck open the bedchamber door, sending splintered crystal ricocheting across the floor to mingle with the irregular sprinkling of snow and gradually growing puddles of water.

"Your highness! Is everything all right?! We heard shouti- P-Prince Artemis?"
The party quickly drops from it's battle-ready stance to kneel respectfully, but Shining calls over from her position in the enormous bed, rolling her eyes and looking quite tired and more than a little irritated.
"At ease, soldiers. His highness is merely visiting."
"Very good, ma'am. Shall I order the kitchen staff to lay an additional place for breakfast?"
"I should damn well hope not."
"Uh... As you wish, ma'am."
The guards mutter their apologies and exit the room, still facing you and Cadence and nodding their heads reverently.
"And find somebody to fix that door!"


Prince Cadence puts one hoof around your neck and begins to half-lead, half-drag you out of the room.
"Shnooky-poo, I'll only be a bit. Me and Artie need to talk about stallion stuff." Shining Armour rolls over in the bed to take advantage of the space, and pulls the covers back up over her.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't take too long."
He steers you away and down the jagged, glimmering corridors decorated exquisitely with sculptures, paintings, rugs, leafy plants and, of course, crystals as he talks at you about things like how the Crystal Empire is doing, the state of the economy, the political climate in Saddle Arabia, and other things which you gradually just stop listening to, nodding affirmatively whenever Cadence is finally forced to stop for breath.
You soon begin to wonder exactly where Cadence is taking you to have this conversation, before he suddenly pushes you through a side-door, into what you discover to be a simple but cosy lounge with two plush armchairs, a stone brick fireplace which is already ablaze, and a marehogany drinks cabinet stocked with various high-class alcoholic beverages for the discerning gentlecolt.

Cadence shoves you into one of the armchairs and plops himself down in the other after pulling on a red quilted dressing gown, already pouring the two of you a drink with his magic as he pats the slippers on his front hooves together eagerly, grinning as he stares you down.

"Soooo? Tell me all about it, who's the lucky maaare?"
You shift uncomfortably in your chair, and the leather squeaks loudly over the soft crackling of the fireplace. Cadence downs the first drink, and then the second, setting down the glasses and the bottle atop the drinks cabinet as he goes back to staring expectantly at you and fiddling with the slippers on his hooves. For what is definitely not the first time, you note how handsome Prince Cadence really is- his pale pink coat offset by the bright yellow, purple and magenta of his mane. There had been a few uncomfortable nights where shameful images of the prince of love dancing through your dreams wearing nothing but a coy smile kept you up- but that was always a very... Physical fascination, and nothing like the way you feel about Keith...
"You going to spill the beans on this filly, or are you just going to sit there 'mirin all day?"
You snap back to reality, and blink a few times.
"We-We beg your pardon?"
Cadance slides down in his chair and uncrosses and recrosses his hind legs slowly, resting his head back against his hooves. You stubbornly look him straight in the eyes, and nowhere else, though you feel yourself becoming slightly flustered
"Nothing to be ashamed of, Artie. I'm the stallion all the mares wish their stallion could be, and all the stallions wish they could be... Or be wi-"
"We implore you to be serious... And don't call me 'Artie'."
"Fine, fine, fine. Just start talking, and spare me the plural pronouns."
You roll your eyes and take a deep breath, fishing for the right words to begin.

"So there's this... Pony."
"Reeeaaaally."
"And, uh... 'She' is just really... Nice? And funny, and she has this cute smile that makes me feel all sorta-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, she sounds like a real keeper. So what's your major malfunction?"

You wave your hooves vaguely in the air and comb the room with your eyes, as though looking for the words you need in the finely polished sheen of the crystal architecture.

"I can't... Talk. To her, I mean, I just feel really sick and scared and such... And I can't even begin to bring up how I... Feel..."
Cadence smiles sympathetically at you as he pours himself another glass.
"Artie...mis, you're prince of the night. Try believing it for once. Honestly, with all the creative marketing and damage control I've done for you, I'm surprised this mare hasn't already thrown herself at you by now. Like, only last month Shiny-whiny took a detachment of soldiers into the scraggy peaks to investigate rumours of a Sombra loyalist sect operating in the area. Turned out to be this weird cult just starting up that was worshipping you as some kind of fertility deity."

You frown slightly.

"One fails to see how this is relevant."
"It isn't. I'm just saying, you're a sex symbol." Cadence thrusts his hooves out at you in emphasis. "Start acting like one. What's the problem with this mare anyway, is she outside the noble classes? Or castle staff?"
You nod eagerly.
"Certainly, she's staff, let's... Let's go with staff."
Cadence snorts and takes another sniff of his drink.
"Well, I can see why she's not already simply slobbering over you, in that case. They have to have SOME discretion, obviously. I mean, nopony raised much of a fuss when the word went out that I was courting the captain of the guard, but it might be a smidge harder for you."
More fidgeting, more pained squeaking of leather.

Cadence sighs, and rests his chin on the bottom of his slipper, in thought.
"Well look, if you're having trouble talking to this... Mare, then break the ice indirectly. Leave her a gift or two. Write poetry or something, and leave it where she'll find it. Heck, if you can find the balls, you could sing for her. Do you still have that lute I gave you the Hearth's Warming before last?"
"I... Never really learnt to-"
"Play that horse the lute. Horses love lutes."

Cadence chuckles to himself at his little joke and downs the rest of his drink, looks at how little still remains in the bottle, and thinks better off it.

"I... I'm not sure, it doth sound quite complex... Could you not simply use your magic to get... Uh... Her to like me?"
Cadence shrugs, and puts the glasses and booze away with a twinkling of magic.
"Doesn't work like that. I can't just make new feelings spontaneously appear from nowhere like that... Uh, well, I can, technically, but the ethicists down in HR don't like it. I have to fill out a buckload of paperwork before I can do that kind of thing nowadays. Besides, you've got this down, I'm sure."

He rises suddenly from his armchair, wobbling slightly and knocking into the drinks cabinet, which clatters protestingly. You hesitate, but do the same, and Cadence starts to gently force you towards the door.

"Anyway, you do everything I said, and whe-*hic*, ah, if you're still having problems, come back and we can talk about your problem in more... Intimate detail, eh?"

His words filter through into your ears, but you're not sure you're making sense of them.

"Wuh, one doesn't understa-"

"ONE IN THE MORNING, is it REALLY? Well, you'd better be on your way, I'd better not keep you! Give my regards to Solaris, and if you see our dapper little Prince Dusk Shine, tell him his sister and I say hi!"

You're shoved out into the corridor and Cadence shuts the door behind you, leaving you standing there bewildered at the sudden end to your meeting. You wonder off in no particular direction looking for a guard or someone who can point you towards the courtyard.

Cadence, meanwhile, hangs his dressing gown back up and double checks that he put the stopper in the liquor bottle tightly enough, chuckling quietly to himself.

"Ah, Artie... Such a closet case, that one."

With a flash of sparkling silver light, you touch down back home, in Canterlot, atop the palace walls not far from where you had your chat with Keith... But just far enough that there's no risk of bumping into him again, for the time being. Dusk has fallen, bathing the immaculate stone of the palace walls in rich shades of purple, red and orange evening light, meaning Solaris must already be lowering his day and raising... Well, his night. Could it really have taken you that long to journey from one end of Equestria to the other? It must just be the lack of magical exercise, you suppose.

Snapping to attention at your sudden luminescent arrival, the guards on either side of the door to your tower face straight ahead, their only movement a brief, involuntary twitching of their tufted bat-pony ears as you loudly and grandly stride towards them.

"At ease, gentlemen. One has a personal task of the utmost importance for you to carry out."
At being directly addressed, the two guards seem to snap to an even more attentive state of attention, if that's even possible. "But this is also a mission of the utmost secrecy. No one may know of what I am asking of you, by all the sanctity of the oath you swore when you entered my service. Not your comrades-in-arms, not any pony in the royal courts or beyond it... Not even my brother. Am I making myself clear?"

The guards bow their heads solemnly, their lavender helmets gleaming in the evening's glow. The one to your left speaks.
"Of course, your majesty. Whatever you ask of us, we will take the secrets of our service to our graves."
You pause, considering the unquestioning, unwavering loyalty in his voice. Satisfied, you continue.
"Then I require you to seek out the royal chef and the necessary kitchen staff, and tell them, uh... Tell them that they are to prepare a dozen boxes of the finest Hearts & Hooves Day candy in the land, by highest orders of the crown. Have them work through the night, if they must."

You stare into their faces, looking for any sign of hesitation or tell of doubt. One of them blinks, but you're pretty sure it's just a regular blink. Your guards have been trained well.
"In addition, one of you shall venture out to the market under the cover of darkness and, like, a hood or something, and abscond with the finest gift each merchant carries, leaving the appropriate due in bits from my personal account."

You lean in to stare directly into the eyes of the guard to your right, who remains as motionless as a statue.
"I am putting my most faith in you, and trust you to choose with the utmost taste."

You turn to survey the final slither of sun still visible over the horizon as it dips from view, and feel the final rays of it's light warm your blue coat as they fade from the world. "As you accomplish these tasks, you will personally package these items with the care their value and importance to me warrants, with no indication as to their sender, and then..." Your voice cracks slightly, but you clear your throat and continue "And then, you shall steal into the barracks of your sleeping fellow guard, and silently leave them at the foot of the bed of... The bed of, u-uh..."

Your voice quivers, and a shiver takes you. With nothing left to concentrate on in the now dimming sky speckled with the first hints of starlight, you turn again to face your henchmen. "K-K-Keith... Keith's b-bed." You shift uncomfortably, moving your weight from one hoof to the other, as your guards continue to stare ahead, unmoving. "... T-That is, all the gifts will be for, uh... K-Keith."

The thick, suffocating silence of nightfall falls upon the three of you, and you uncomfortably glance around for something else to look at other than their steely, uncompromising eyes now that the sun has set.

"So, uh... A-Any questions..?" a connection in made in your head, and with a jolt you remember common protocol "Oh, ah, at ease, by the way."

The two guards in front of you suddenly become animate, exhaling gently, slouching imperceptibly, and sniffing slightly in a non-committal manner. You don't look them directly in the eyes, the first embers of a familiar heat beginning to smoulder in your cheeks, accompanied by a bead of sweat that forms and rolls down from your brow. "And, um, any questions..?"

The left guard snaps his hind legs together and raises his chin, speaking frankly and professionally, betraying no opinion of his own.
"Shall I prepare packaging of a heart-shaped variety for the confections, your Highness?"

You raise your brow in momentary surprise, but audibly release a deep sigh of release once you piece together his words in your mind, and start nodding rapidly, the incandescent curls of your ethereal mane bobbing in the air.
"O-Oh! Yeah, yeah that sounds, uh, g-great!"

The right-hand guard similarly stands to attention to address you with his own question.
"Shall you be wanting the wrapping on your gifts to be crimson, or perhaps a more subtle shade of lavender, your highness?"
You frown and furrow your brow in thought.
"I'm... Not sure."

The left guard smiles politely.
"Red, definitely. With respect, your highness, it is simply the more overtly romantic. Intense."

"Right. Okay, go for it." You grin at your two guards, a little giddily, and they both return friendly smiles "Is that all?"
"Permission to speak freely, your highness?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"If you don't want Keith to know all the gifts are from you, it still might not hurt to give him one of your own belongings. Nothing to identify you specifically, just something a bit more... Personal."

You rub your chin thoughtfully with one hoof, pondering this advice... And an idea crosses your mind. With a glimmer in your eye, you thank your men for their service (and for their discretion), and send them on their way. One immediately takes flight on his leathery wings, and soars down from the palace in the direction of the Canterlot merchant's square, now gently illuminated by the first hints of moonlight. The other swiftly but quietly gallops along the castle walls, before disappearing down a flight of stairs, on his way to the kitchens- or perhaps straight to the servant's quarters to rouse the kitchen staff.

You resolve to look up the names of those two guards before you turn in- if nothing else, they are now accessories to your courtly scheming, and it should pay to know them a bit better than simply as the 'left' and 'right' guards. Actually knowing their names should do nicely for the time being.

Satisfied with your preparations, and riding a wave of nervous ecstasy having set your plan in motion, you enter your tower and ascend the spiralling stairs to your own bedchamber. Digging your way through your mess, you resolve to find the one thing that will be the cherry atop the cake.

You quickly recover it, hidden away from any prying eyes right at the back of your underwear drawer... Although that's the most logical place for it to be hidden.

White, soft, lacy... Unbelievably, exquisitely comfortable. Silk. A cursory sniff confirms your suspicions- it also undeniably carries your... Scent. Whatever you might call it. Easily noticeable, though not pungent or unpleasantly strong, you don't think. Just sort of... Aromatic- at least in a bodily way.

To look at them, one might think they belonged to a girl. And one would be quite right to, as you personally lifted them from the wardrobe of the most spoiled, indulgent and pampered young noblewoman you know within the royal court, and probably in all of Equestria. On your mind was the temptation of... Experimentation, and finding her room to be remarkably unlocked and unoccupied, you spied your opportunity- leaving with the most luxurious and expensive-looking pair of panties you found there.

You cleansed them thoroughly with your own two hooves (they were freshly washed, pressed and folded when they were last returned to her room, but oh, how the suffocating, sickly scent of her perfume clings to her room and everything in it), before stashing them in your tower for a few days while nervousness and the insidious pangs of guilty shame prevented you from acting on your curiosities.

Naturally, she kicked up a storm, and there was practically an inquisition amongst the castle staff and the lesser noble guests to find whoever had the nerve to take the item, though you were fortunately beyond even the faintest suspicion. The panties were never recovered, and with time she simply lost interest and had a new pair (or seven) tailored to her fancies.

Finally, you conquered your fears and, lain back upon your bed with a number of mirrors placed around you especially, teased them up your legs, and pulled them on. And oh, how they caressed your flanks, how they squeezed your plot and gently hugged your... Jewels.

You spent hours- all the doors locked, all the drapes drawn- just stretching on your bed, posing for the mirrors, feeling the silky material stroking your tender body, and letting your fantasies run away with you. Imagining a handsome stallion carrying you into your bed, stroking a hoof across your flank and over your crotch, before easing the panties off and sliding them down your hind legs, tickling you erotically as they go. Then you would ease yourself over, onto your belly, before raising your hindquarters and whisking your magically starry, ephemeral tail up and to the side, presenting your...

Anyway, after a long while the initial thrill died down, though whenever you could be sure nobody would see or interrupt you, you would wear the delightful silken undergarments around your tower, letting them influence the gait of your walk with their seductive touch, causing you to seductively swivel your hips and intermittently strut with one hoof placed slowly in front of the other, as though putting on a show for some phantom stallion. This went on for perhaps a week before other distractions and, subsequently, your lovesickness over Keith turned your mind to other things.

A not entirely masculine giggle briefly escapes you as the fond memories pass, and you toy with the idea of putting them on once more before you part with them, but you decide not to prolong the affair. Instead you carefully fold them into an inconspicuous black gift-box a prospective female suitor originally presented you some sapphire cuff links in, and shut it tightly.

After some further preparation- a single heart drawn onto a paper label and attached to the box by a short bit of white string- you leave the tower to find one of the two guards in on your plan (Charlie and Frank, the registry tells you. Such fascinatingly unusual, foreign names). The gift-box with the silk panties inside is noiselessly placed with the mountainous collection of other presents at the foot of Keith's bed and, exhausted by the day's events, you finally collapse into your own king-sized four-poster bed, nervous but excited for whatever comes next once Keith awakens and finds his first surprise from his new mysterious admirer. You easily drift off into a tranquil sleep, dreaming of a warm, loving presence laying in the bed beside you, holding you safe and close in it's arms.