Experiment #12 - The Playboy Shiekh's Virgin Stable-Girl - Chapter 1

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The Playboy Shiekh's Virgin Stable-Girl - Chapter 1
By Sharon Kendrick


Rarity: *trots in as though she owns the place* Well, I suppose the decor is nothing to write home about, but hopefully we won’t be here long.
Wheatley: *stumbling along behind her* Err, ideally... you’re absolutely certain this is a real experiment? I don’t see any puzzles...
Rarity: The only puzzle is how they think reading a book could possibly harm us. I mean, Twilight reads all the time, and she’s just fine!
Wheatley: Right! Reading, it’s a smart person kinda thing. How bad can it be?
Riku: *Looking around.* Last time I heard about Twilight, it was another way the guys downstairs were trying to drive us insane.
Rarity: Oh, I mean my friend, Twilight Sparkle.
Riku: Yeah, there was a lot of that in the story. Mostly on Edward.
Rarity: Er...
Wheatley: Right, sparkly times of day aside, maybe we should just, you know, work on getting this done faster! Starting... now!
Riku: Fair enough. *Tries to figure out how his pony bum fits in this seat and finally gives up.*
Rarity: *tears her eyes away from dreamily watching Riku...fail at being a pony...and looks up at the screen instead* Right.

There was no reason why a scorpion shouldn’t be lying dead on the ground

Rarity: I thought being in this story would be reason enough.

--but not when Eleni had only just swept the yard. She stared down at its curved black shape and a certainty which defied logic

Riku: Also like this story?

whispered its way in a cold chill over her skin. It was an omen, surely.

Rarity: But I thought you said it was a scorpion!
Riku: *Facehoof with a bit of a smirk.*

An evil portent--coming moments before her father’s mysterious guest arrived.

Rarity: Are we certain the scorpion wasn’t the guest?

She swallowed. For wasn’t desert legend full of signs as ominous as this?

Wheatley: The room starts turning and moving up?
Riku: Dark storms tearing up the place?
Wheatley: The moon is visible!
Riku: Water flowing upwards and gummi pieces scattered everywhere?
Rarity: Cotton candy clouds and chocolate rain!
Riku: ...What?
Wheatley: ...Huh.
Rarity: ...Ponyville might be a bit different than where you’re from.
Riku: ...Okay then.

‘Eleni!’

Rarity: Gesundheit.

Her father’s shout echoed through the hot, still air and Eleni tensed as she tried to work out what kind of mood he was in.

Rarity: Bemused and slightly apprehensive, if it’s anything like what we’re feeling.
Wheatley: Get him one of those fancy color-changer rings, I’d say.

At least the tone was steady, which meant that he was sober, but it was impatient, too and her heart sank--for that could mean only one thing.

Rarity: Black actually is the new black?
Wheatley: The door can’t be hacked?
Riku: She has to read Twilight? *Finally settles in chair awkwardly.*

That he was eager to begin his game of cards--and that his fellow players were growing impatient. Loud, laughing men who were stupid enough to gamble away everything they had worked for.

‘Eleni!’ The voice had now become a roar. ‘Where in the desert’s name are you?’

Riku: Sounds like she’s busted.
Rarity: I’m more concerned with what they named the poor desert.

‘I am here, Papa!’ she said, quickly kicking the scorpion to a dusty grave

Rarity: Is that any way to treat your guest?
Riku: Was that any way to name your kid?
Rarity: Good point. *Smiles winningly at him*
Riku: ...*Blinks, then goes back to it*

in a small pile of sand outside the stables and then hurrying towards the house, where Gamal Lakis

Rarity: Bless you!

stood waiting in the doorway. His wizened and sunburnt face was sour as he looked her up and down.

Wheatley: Left the milk out too long, did he?
Rarity: When life gives you lemons, you’re supposed to make lemonade, not eat them straight.
Wheatley: I’ve heard differing arguments on that.
Rarity: Oh?
Wheatley: It’s, uh, not exactly to be repeated in polite company.
Riku: You’re asking the one without a mouth-- *Pauses and just gives Wheatley a look.*
Wheatley: Needless to say, looks like this fellow took that advice.
Rarity: *vague curiosity, then shock, then mild horror, and she turns away with a huff*

‘What are you doing that keeps you away from the house and your duties?’ he criticised.

Rarity: *as Eleni* Treating our guest to a dust bath, father!
Riku: ...Or just hiding the body.
Wheatley: Ahh, details.

It was pointless telling him that she had just come from the stables, where she had been speaking softly to his beloved horses.

Wheatley: Because then he’d just think she’s a bit of a nutter.
Rarity: And what is wrong with speaking to ponies, might I ask? *Pointed stare*
Wheatley: HORSES, she said horses, whole different animal!
Rarity: *She just gives him a very long stare - he is on thin ice - before turning away again*
Riku: Neither horses or ponies speak in most worlds.

And that such constant care and vigilance kept them in prized and peak condition--making Gamal Lakis one of the most envied men in the desert kingdom.

Riku: This can’t be Agrabah. Nobody would envy these guys.

She knew from experience that there was no explanation that would ever satisfy this most discontented of men.

Rarity: Yes, Celestia forbid you use logic.

‘I’m sorry, Papa,’ she said automatically, lowering her gaze to the ground before looking up once more to flash him a reassuring smile.

Riku: Hey, no flash, we’ll get red-eye.

‘I will come and bring refreshments to your guests immediately.’

‘No, no. We cannot yet drink, nor eat the food that has been prepared,’ said her father unexpectedly.

Rarity: *as the father* We’ll simply eat the UNprepared food instead!
Riku: Or sand. Seems like they got plenty.
Rarity: It might be preferable to lemons. *Oh, look, that smile is back. Yep, she’s trying.*
Riku: ...Uh. *Oh look, more bad story.*

‘For we await the arrival of our guest of honour.’ His faded eyes glinted and he gave a rare and crafty smile. ‘And do you know who this guest is, Eleni?’

Rarity: *as Eleni* Three inches long, black, poisonous? Yes, I do believe we’ve met.
Riku: And he’s resting from his long journey. Forever.
Wheatley: Just buri--er, tucked him in, actually!

She shook her head. The visit had been shrouded in mystery for days now,

Rarity: Not unlike the entire purpose of this story.
Riku: A good flashlight should clear things up. ...Hopefully.

but Eleni knew that it was not her place to ask.

Rarity: Three feet to the left, however, was a different story entirely.

Women were told when men deemed that the time was right and not before, especially in households like theirs.

Riku: Obviously they never met Kairi.
Rarity: Kairi? *She has no ulterior motive of course not*
Riku: A friend from back home.
Rarity: Oh, a friend. I see.
Riku: ...Yeah. She and Sora are very close. *He fidgets a bit in his seat, trying to use the armrest as a hoofrest.*
Rarity: *Yep, she looks relieved* That’s lovely.
Riku: Uh...

‘No, Papa, I do not know.’

‘No less than one of the most important men in all of Calista!’ he boasted. ‘I wonder if you would like to make a guess just who that might be?’

Wheatley: *as Gamal* And oh-my-god you are just going to freak out!
Riku: It’s Gary Stu, isn’t it?

Eleni took her cue,

Rarity: Exeunt, pursued by a bear.

asking him the question he clearly wished to be asked, though his wild extravagance was now making her wonder whether her father was quite as sober as she had first thought.

‘Won’t you tell me who he is, Papa--so that I may wait on him with due deference when he arrives at our home?’

Rarity: *as Eleni* Dust baths for everyone!

Gamal’s thin lips gave another wet and triumphant smile, pausing like a man who held the trump card in a high-bidding game.

Wheatley: ACE OF FOURS!

‘What would you say, my daughter--if I told you that a royal prince was coming to the home of your father?’

Riku: *As Eleni, as best as he can* Father, you’ve got another case of heat stroke, don’t you?
Rarity: Some princes are not worth the effort.
Riku: *Barely registering the signifigance.* Why’s that?
Rarity: Because not every prince is a gentlecolt.
Riku: *Glances over.* Sorry you met a jerk?
Rarity: Oh, it’s quite all right. There are plenty of other gentlecolts, you know. *Nonchalantly puts her hoof over his, smiling all the while*
Riku: ...UHHH. *Blinks at her a moment, looks down at her hoof, then back at her. The story. Yes. Focus on that right now, rather than this insanity.*
Wheatley: *distinctly uncomfortable*
Rarity: *This is not over. Not by a long shot. And that hoof is not moving.*

She would say that he had been drinking, after all. But never to his face, of course. If Papa was having one of his frequent flights of fancy then it was always best to play along with it.

Eleni kept her face poker-straight.

Wheatley: Mah-mah-mah-mah!

‘A royal prince, Papa?’ she questioned gravely.

Rarity: *as Gamal* No, the no-royal, dairy-free kind!
Riku: And low on carbs.

‘Yes, indeed!’ He pushed his face forward. ‘The Prince Kaliq Al’Farisi,’

Wheatley: Gesundheit.
Riku: The “Prince Lick A Farriswheel.” Got it.

he crowed, ‘is coming to my house to play cards with me!’

Her father had gone insane! These were ideas of grandeur run riot!

Wheatley: Pardon? No, there’s no fires, no one’s hurt, not so much as a bin turned over. Not a riot by any proper standards.

And what was Eleni to do?

Rarity: The pony pokey, of course!

What if he continued to make such idle boasts in front of the men who were sitting, waiting to begin the long night of card-playing? Surely that would make him a laughing stock and ruin what little reputation he had left.

Riku: Don’t worry, by the end of the story, none of you will have to worry about reputation.

‘Papa,’ she whispered urgently, ‘I beg you to think clearly. What place would a royal prince have here?’

Wheatley: *as Gamal* Well, I told him we’d have punch and pie!

But she was destined never to hear a reply, even though his mouth had opened like a puppet--for there came the sound of distant hooves. The steady, powerful thud of horses as they thundered over the parched sands. On the still, thick air the muffled beat grew closer and louder until it filled Eleni’s ears like the sound of the desert wolves which howled at the silver moon when it was at its fullest.

Wheatley: Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but wolves and horses are not particularly known for their similar noises.
Rarity: It must be zapapple season!
Riku: *Still looking at the hoof over his* What?

Towards them galloped a clutch of four horses, and as Eleni watched, one of them broke free

Rarity: *singing* I want to break free! I want to break free!
Wheatley: *also* I want to break free from your lies, you’re so self-satisfied!
Riku: *Stares in horror as a pony is hitting on him and she and a robot pony are having a musical moment.*

and surged forwards like a black stream of oil gushing out of the arid sand. For a moment, she stood there, transfixed

Wheatley: --in horror, because a gush of black sludge was shooting at her.
Rarity: Move! Move! That stain will never come out of your clothes!
Riku: *Facehoof*

--for this was as beautiful and as reckless a piece of riding as she had ever witnessed.

Rarity: She’s obviously never met Rainbow Dash.

Illuminated by the orange gold of the dying sun, a colossus of a man could be seen, with an ebony stallion between his thighs as he urged it on with a joyful shout.

Riku: *Debates pointing out the stallion to Rarity to try to get her hoof off his.*
Rarity: ...*Nice try.*

The man’s bare head was as dark as the horse he rode and his skin gleamed like some bright and burnished metal. Robes of pure silk clung to the hard sinews of his body as he approached Eleni could see a face so forbidding that some deep-rooted fear made her wonder if he had the power to turn to dust all those who stood before him.

Riku: And he could say he won the game.

And a face so inherently beautiful that it was as if all the desert flowers had bloomed at once.

Rarity: With the hopes that nopony has hay fever.

It was then that Eleni understood the full and daunting truth. Her father’s bragging had been true for riding towards their humble abode was indeed Prince Kaliq Al’Farisi. Kaliq the daredevil, the lover of women, the playboy, the gambler

Rarity: The picker, the grinner, the lover, the sinner, the player of music in the sun...

and irresponsible twin son of Prince Ashraf. The man, it was said, could make women moan with pleasure simply by looking at them.

Riku: Uh...
Wheatley: This is before or after they turn to dust?
Rarity: I would imagine that’s a very...inopportune...ability.

She had not seen him since she was a young girl in the crowds watching the royal family pass by. Back then, he had been doing military service and wearing the uniform of the Calistan Navy. And back then he had been an arresting young man--

Riku: He was a cop.

barely in his twenties. But now--a decade and a half on--he was at the most magnificent peak of his manhood, with a raw and beautiful masculinity which seemed to shimmer from his muscular frame.

Rarity: But I thought we weren’t reading Twilight!

‘By the wolves, that howl!’

Riku: Was a coyote.

Eleni whimpered, and ran inside the house.

Wheatley: You were right about that moaning power being an issue, then.
Rarity: I’m sorry, dear, you can’t escape the novel that way.

‘Highness!’ simpered Gamal, and as the Prince’s horse entered the battered gates he bent as low as his creaking bones would allow.

Kaliq dismounted with the same speed and grace as he would remove himself from the body of a woman he had just made love to.

Riku: UHH *Made all the worse by someone hitting on him*
Wheatley: *opens his mouth* .... *closes it*
Rarity: *Very. Long. Pause.* I would hope he would have a little more...respect...than that.

Jumping to the ground, his riding boots dusty beneath the fine, flowing robes which denoted his high status, he glanced around him, making no attempt to hide the faint curve of his lips as he took in his surroundings.

Riku: Faint curve? Is he smiling? Frowning? The curves, they do nothing!

It was as he had thought -- a hovel of a place! Lowly and rough -- but a place which promised him something which he hungered for. Indeed, his heart’s delight. His gaze flickered over the stable door before returning to the grovelling figure before him.

Rarity: He wants the horses? *pauses as the implications of that sink in* Perhaps we shouldn’t be reading this anymore...

‘Get up, Lakis,’ he ordered.

Gamal obeyed, rubbing at his back and wincing slightly. ‘May I say how honored am I to have the most venerable prince partake in my--’

‘Cut the smarm,’

Riku: That was casual for a prince.

snapped Kaliq, with the arrogance he had learned at one of the many international schools he had attended.

Wheatley: Being A Snob 101, with prerequisites in Prat Sciences.

An arrogance which had been necessary to protect him from the greed and ambition of those who craved royal patronage.

Riku: Apparently arrogance is a synonym for suspicion? *Shifts hoof under hers.*
Rarity: Or class, or composure, or manners...some ponies think it covers them all, really. *Catches that shifting and just smiles. Look, this is nice, isn’t it?*
Wheatley: Easy mistake to make, really.

His eyes glittered as he tempered his curt reply with the silken charm which his sister Yasmine complained could lure the birds from the trees.

Riku: If she was complaining, I suspect it was more like making the birds fall from the trees.
Rarity: ...he doesn’t make her moan by looking at her, does he? *ALL THE HORROR*
Riku: ...No, the birds are moaning. In pain.

‘I have not come for your craven admiration, Lakis,’ he admonished softly.

Rarity: *as the prince* I prefer the non-craven sort.

‘But to play cards with a man -- and this I have on good authority -- a man who is unbeatable at cards. Are you that man, I wonder?’

Rarity: No, you’re looking for the boy with the spiky hair and the big gold pyramid around his neck. Three doors away. Can’t miss him.

Gamal smirked and puffed up his chest. ‘It has been said, Highness.

Wheatley: His mum said he was the best in his class.
Riku: His mom says he’s special.

Kaliq drummed an impatient finger

Riku: All the other fingers and toes were fine with it.

on his riding crop. Was the fool not aware that a commoner should never boast of superiority to a royal prince? Idly, he tossed the crop to one of his bodyguards, who was only now just climbing down from his horse and looking a little shamefaced.

‘We shall see how unbeatable you are,’ Kaliq said carelessly. ‘And I am in the mood for good sport tonight -- but first I wish to drink.

Riku: I think most of us wish to drink about now.

Do you have nothing to offer to quench the parched throats of these travellers, Lakis -- for we have ridden long and ridden hard across the desert from our royal palaces?’

Wheatley: For a game of cards? You’d think they could figure to just play in the palace.

‘Oh, forgive me, Highness, forgive me,’ stumbled Gamal. ‘You will please enter my humble abode and anything you desire shall be brought to you.’

Rarity: And he didn’t even have to wish upon a star!

The smoke-filled salon was lit by oil-lamps with a bright, spotlight glare over the poker table and Kaliq dipped his head as he entered the room, noting that one of his bodyguards had slipped in before him. The faint scent of incense mingled with the smell of tobacco and the deep voices grew silent as the assembled men sprang instantly to their feet.

Kaliq’s smile was wolfish as he waved at them to resume their seats.

Rarity: Are we sure he isn’t actually a wolf?
Riku: You’re probably right. Considering all the talk about wolves we haven’t even seen one yet.
Wheatley: Still waiting on that scorpion fellow, though, ought to be showing up any time now.

For wasn’t the number one rule of defeating the opposition to first give them a false sense of security?

Rarity: And here I thought the number one rule was to win.

‘No, no. Tonight you do not stand on ceremony; tonight we are as equals,’ he instructed softly.

Wheatley: *as Kaliq* Equals that I have body guards to protect me from.

‘For the cards cannot be played properly if one insists on hierarchy. Tonight I am not a prince of your land -- I am simply a man, just like you, Lakis.’

Riku: *As the prince* Except better.

Standing just outside the door and summoning up the courage to enter the room,

Rarity: It was a long and complicated ritual.
Riku: She got a Tonberry instead.

Eleni wondered if her father knew what he was up against. Because as she listened to the prince’s drawled statement, it somehow didn’t ring quite true. As if this powerful prince would ever desire that these ruffians should be his equal!

Rarity: Ruffians, thugs, men with pointy teeth - they’re all very desirable company.
Riku: *Catches the sarcasm and runs a tongue along his teeth. DARN these horse teeth!*
Wheatley: Never know, they might be into collecting porcelain unicorns.
Riku: Or enjoy being mimes.
Rarity: That’s even more frightening than regular thugs!
Riku: *Stares* ...You need to sort out your priorities.

‘Eleni!’

She was just about to call, ‘Yes, Papa,’ when she heard his next words.

‘My servant girl will bring us food and drink! Eleni -- come now!’

In spite of her nerves, Eleni almost smiled. How wily her father was. Not only was he elevating his status in front of the prince by bringing in an extra, female servant -- but by using his daughter he would guarantee absolute discretion. As well as not having to pay her anything!

Riku: Moral of the story -- Family is cheap. She’s not even getting allowance.
Rarity: Ah, yes, he’s a true family man.

Sucking in a deep breath, Eleni entered the room, keeping her eyes down and resisting the terrible overwhelming instinct which made her long to look at the prince again, which wasn’t easy since servants were never permitted eye contact with a member of the ruling family of Calista. She knew too that protocol demanded she make a deep curtsey -- not something she was used to doing.

Rarity: Unfortunately, protocol was not in the habit of asking nicely.

‘Your Highness,’ she said softly, and, bending one knee behind the other, she made a sweeping kind of bow -- glad that all her years of riding had given her a certain grace.

Riku: And bow legs.

‘What does my master request that I should bring to his honoured guest?’ she added quietly.

Kaliq glanced over at her, his antennae automatically alerted by the sound of a woman’s voice.

Wheatley: Oh--so he is the scorpion! Whew!
Riku: Girls go for bugs?
Rarity: Not hardly.

It was soft and soothing, he thought -- like cool, running water running through this oppressive and stuffy room. And it was curiously fluent for a servant. His eyes narrowed, but he could not see whether she was plain or beautiful.

Wheatley: Use some of those riches to invest in some glasses, mate.

Her head was covered with a veil and the clothes she wore were drab and concealing -- and while they were entirely appropriate for a woman of her class and status, he would have preferred to feast his eyes on something attractive. Some buxom young thing with her breasts half spilling out, who would pleasure him with the yearning in her eyes!

Rarity: *Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Oh. No. He. Didn’t.*
Riku: *Blinks, looks at Rarity, looks back... Shiiiiifts. And says nothing for fear he might get kneecapped.*
Rarity: First of all! Revealing clothes aren’t attractive if they reveal too much! Secondly! What is wrong with dressing appropriately? And thirdly! Why does everypony in this story have these odd eye abilities?!
Wheatley: Also, just sounds plain inefficient, doesn’t it.
Riku: *Saaaaays nothing*
Rarity: That’s not the half of it. Honestly, why aren’t there more gentlecolts around? *She leans lightly against Riku’s shoulder at this*
Riku: T-that’s not what I am!
Rarity: Oh, I disagree.
Riku: ...I’m human!
Rarity: *looks him up and down* Really.
Riku: I WILL be human again!
Wheatley: *trying to lighten the mood* Only if you find love ‘fore the rose wilts!
Riku: *Groans*

‘A drink,’ he ordered curtly, forcing his thoughts away from the subject because he was here tonight to play cards -- not to lose himself in the delights of a woman.

‘You will drink some Zelyoniy with us?’ Gamal questioned hopefully.

Rarity: Gesundheit!

Kaliq repressed a shudder. As if he could bring himself to drink Zelyoniy!

Wheatley: Good rule of thumb; don’t drink anything you can’t pronounce. Probably some sort of cleaning fluid.

The potent green spirit made from cactus plants was banned in most of the country,

Riku: For their sharp taste.

though he knew that its use was still widespread in the rougher regions.

Wheatley: Cactus juice; it’ll quench ya.

But might it not assist his game if his partners were partial to hard liqueur? ‘Not for me,’ he answered silkily. ‘But the rest of you must drink what pleases you. Bring me pomegranate juice instead,’ he told the servant girl.

Rarity: *as Veruca* I want an Oompa-Loompa and I want it now!

‘At once, highness,’ said Eleni, and hurried off.

Kaliq leaned back in his chair as the dealer opened the new pack of cards and a familiar excitement began to steal over his skin.

Riku: Excitement was the thief.

He wanted to win, yes, because he loved winning --

Wheatley: As opposed to all those who’re fans of losing.

but more important than victory was the risk involved. He shouldn’t really be here, associating with these low-life racehorse breeders and trainers -- but that, of course, only added to the evening’s appeal.

Wheatley: Yeah, the appeal he’s been whinging about since he showed up.
Rarity: Oh, he’s just complaining. That’s not real whining.
Riku: ...Do I even want to know?
Rarity: Well, that’s up to you, now isn’t it.
Wheatley: Another time, maybe? We’re doing enough of it already.
Riku: *Brow raise*

The sense of the unknown, the forbidden and the elicit.

Rarity: In other words: let’s get dangerous!

Because sometimes Kaliq grew bored with his privileged life -- a life which took him to cities all over the Western world.

Rarity: The travel! The riches! The glamor! How could he find it boring?
Riku: It’s easy to want what you’re not used to.
Rarity: Yes, but he wants to be out in the sand, playing card games with a man who...eats...lemons. And you think I need to rearrange my priorities.
Riku: Whatever floats his boat, I guess.
Rarity: Yes, I suppose. *Hello, more subtle yet shameless leaning*
Riku: *Pretends his face itches to remove his hand... And flinches when his hoof scratches harder than he’d like. He sets his hoof down next to hers, not over.*
Rarity: *So she simply puts her hoof over his again.*
Riku: *Looks mildly pained*
Wheatley: *still clueless as to all the flirting* My guess is the guy’s just got bad taste all around.

Cities where he could slip easily into the role of the playboy shiekh -- as the international newspapers were so fond of calling him.

Riku: We’re more fond of calling him other names.

Impossibly rich from the wealth of his country’s diamond mines, he could have anything he wanted -- and he mostly did.

Wheatley: Yeah, yeah, that does sound pretty awful.
Riku: I think someone should take pity on him and take all that burden.
Rarity: As someone very familiar with the value of a diamond, I volunteer for the task.

But sometimes he wanted harsh contrast and that was what brought him to places like this. Where the hardships and toughness of desert life made the fleshpots of Europe fade into insignificance. As the cards began to be dealt around the table Kaliq felt the familiar thrill of expectation.

Rarity: He knew when to hold ‘em, fold ‘em, walk away, and run.
Riku: What’s with these familiar feelings? Familiar excitement, familiar thrill, familiar familiarity...

‘You will take food, Highness?’

Kaliq glanced up. The servant girl was standing before him and putting a goblet of pomegranate juice before him.

Rarity: We’re replaced the prince’s coffee with Folgers Crystals! Let’s see if he notices.

He shook his dark head impatiently. As if he would eat with people such as these!

Riku: So much for being equals.
Wheatley: Right, where you sit in the cafeteria is crucial.

‘No. I have no appetite for food.’ And then he glanced at the drink. ‘But my thirst is great. Taste it,’ he instructed the girl.

Wheatley: Taste his thirst?
Riku: ...Somehow that sounds like a French kiss. *Wrinkles nose slightly*
Rarity: I’m surprised you know what that tastes like.
Riku: I didn’t say I did!
Wheatley: My guess is it’d taste like one of those fruit candy commercials.
Riku: Probably more like spit.

Eleni’s heart raced in confusion.

Riku: Going the wrong way in Rumble Racing.

Surely the prince did not intend her to drink from his glass?

Riku: Cooties.
Wheatley: Backwash.
Rarity: Secondhand lipstick.

‘But--’

‘I said, taste it,’ he repeated softly. ‘Or I will begin to worry that you are trying to poison me.’

Riku: It’s not her that you should be worried about.
Rarity: Though I’m certain she wouldn’t be the only one.

With nervous fingers Eleni lifted the heavy cup -- her father’s best --

Rarity: The holy grail!
Riku: Little did she know her father made cups.

to her lips and sipped at the sweet, tangy juice, the tip of her tongue automatically removing its sticky trace from her lips. How horrible for the price to have to live with such terrible fears, she thought, her heart giving an automatic little tug of compassion.

Wheatley: Now, speaking from experience, but if the compassion is programmed in, it’s a little less genuine. I mean, close enough, but.
Riku: That explains the metal descriptions of the prince earlier. They’re all robots.

Did he have to watch his back, wherever he went, she wondered -- afraid that some unknown assassin was lurking in the shadows?

Rarity: Or it could just be Pinkie Pie, lurking in his underwear drawer.
Riku: Give me a break!

Aware that his piercing black eyes

Riku: He should get those checked.

were fixed on her, she felt as if she had been turned to stone.

Rarity: Whatever you do, don’t blink! Blink and you’re dead!
Wheatley: Quick, everyone start clapping! E-B-A! E-B-A!
Riku: Or peel a bunch of onions in front of Pokemon!

What was she supposed to do now? And how long did they have to wait to see if she had been poisoned?

Rarity: Until she collapsed, I would imagine.

‘Well?’ Kaliq shot the word out.

Rarity: Bullseye!
Riku: KO!
Wheatley: Machiavellian!

Eleni swallowed as she stared down at the goblet. ‘I think the drink will please you, Highness.’

Wheatley: Well, glad someone will be pleased after all that.
Rarity: Oh, I’m sure we can find something nice to take away from this. *Oh would you look at that smile. That one’s for you, Riku.*
Riku: ...*A bead of sweat appears on his brow.* ...Maybe a moral of the story?
Rarity: Scorpions make terrible houseguests.
Wheatley: Punch and pie will lure anyone in!
Riku: And right now, something to drink would please me, too. *Gets out of his seat rather quickly.*
Rarity: Drinks do sound lovely. *She gets up and follows him out at a leisurely pace. She will succeed eventually, she is sure of it~*
Wheatley: *bouncing after* Lemonade, maybe!
Rarity and Riku: *simultaneously* NO LEMONS!
Riku: *Looks to Rarity and slowly facehoofs*
Rarity: *Just smiles~*
Wheatley: Just an idea...