The Butterfly
Canterlot seemed to sparkle and shine this night; the city of the Goddesses, capital of Equestria, and generally a rather nice vacation spot (if one had the coin). Canterlot was many things; however, many could agree that the one thing Canterlot wasn't was a “safe zone”. Gossip about everyone and anyone important seemed to fly through the press, and only the most professional and mentally sound could deal with the horde of ponies flying through the windows and breaking through the walls to get some form of scoop or another. It just so happened that Step Lock, maestro of the Royal Orchestra, happened to be a victim of Canterlot's less admirable traits by one of Canterlot's well known models. A teasing smirk was on a white unicorn's face as she playfully ran from the maestro, who was already starting to wear himself out.
Looking up at the mare, the stallion clutched his chest and took a few deep breaths before speaking, a sharp edge to his voice (where there weren't cracks or wheezing). “You know how I don't enjoy my privacy being toyed with...” Step gritted his teeth as he attempted to rip the photos out of the mare's hands in one final rush of energy; it proved to be a futile effort, the unicorn levitating the photos beyond his reach. “I'm aware you'll rip that apart anyway!” The mare gently bent over to tease the stallion, waving the photos in front of him for a moment with a look of unadulterated joy on her face. “No, but watching you dart about so desperately is hilarious.” The normally elegant, composed, and whom many would consider beautiful Fleur de Lis was currently giggling like a schoolfilly as she levitated the rather scandalous photos around Canterlot's very own Step Lock, maestro of the royal orchestra. As the exhausted musician propped himself against a wall, the unicorn stepped forward to gently ruffle the stallion's mane with a teasing smile. “Honestly, do you really think I would spread these around? You wound me, Ser Step. I have no benefit to keeping these...or even spreading them to the public eye. All it would do is paint me in a bad light with the Princesses, and seeing my precarious position, I simply do it to toy with you.” The photos paused in midair for a moment before being flung to the nearby fireplace telekinetically. “Oh, how foolish of me. I forgot to rip them.” The rather irritated maestro straightened his posture, fixing his untidy mane while taking a few deep breaths. “I question just whose side you're on; teasing me with leaking those photos out, burning them afterward...” Exhaling, the exasperated maestro shook his head before looking the mare eye to eye (a feat many might consider difficult). “With all the information you gather, you do things like this: watch a frail stallion run about like a headless chicken for your amusement. If I knew any better, I'd dismiss you as a threat and consider you a minor annoyance.” Fleur shook her head, a smile on her face as she turned to face a full body mirror, carefully examining the dress she wore. “I wouldn't befall harm upon you, you already know that: you're too valuable a target. What you lack in muscle, you instead make up for it with a gift for tactics and improvisation; we'll need that soon enough...just not now.” She idly sat back down in a chair, levitating a glass of wine to her lips and taking a sip as she watched the maestro walk up to her. The stallion raised an eyebrow, a hand on the chair she sat on, leaning against it to look her eye to eye. “Not now? There are changelings still out there, the threat of Starlight Glimmer, all the corruption with the nobility...it's a calm before the storm, Fleur. You don't need to be a politician to see it.” The unicorn shook her head, levitating some papers from a nearby dresser, looking at each file with a curious glint in her eyes. “I don't get you. You have information on ponies from Saddle Arabia to Los Pegasus...but you never seem to use it. Why?” Gently ruffling his mane again, Fleur smiled, standing up and gently pressing her body against his with a smle. “You get to see behind the scenes of the show I run. What happens on the runway? I know better than to show a Royal Guard, regardless of his...affability, if we can call it that.” With a small chuckle, Fleur magically shuffled the papers back into the dresser drawer, wrapping her arms around him.
His face flushed, he quietly wrapped his own arms around her with a small smile. “Rest assured, maestro; everything I do is in the interest of preserving the integrity of Equestria. Nobles these days are worried about their bits and their influence in one city...they play the game too small, too quickly to make any large changes.” Moving her hands up to his shoulders, she smiled, face moving closer to his. “Power, dear friend, isn't so simple as the media makes it to be. Power isn't a meter; it's not something that is gradual, no. The scales of power can tip at a moment's notice. One day, you can be on top of Equestria...the next?” Step's ears perked up as he heard the door fly open, turning around and pulling out his conducting baton...only to see a cameracolt run away from the duo. “Oh, that's your cue. You have a bit of time before he goes to the press...the clock is ticking, Maestro.” Step could feel a rush of emotion hit him like the Friendship Express; he felt his face light up as he placed the conducting baton back into his suit pocket, looking at the model with a fiery rage in his eyes before rushing toward the cameracolt with a surprising burst of speed, tackling the miscreant onto the ground and breaking the dreaded device before it could do any harm. Oh, how I do enjoy these games.
