Chapters “How do you expect me to eat that ?” Prince Blueblood dropped his salad fork with a clang against the gold rimmed china plate. The dish set before him comprised a delicate display of three miniature potatoes accompanied by a splay of sliced heirloom tomatoes. He glared at the serving filly while gingerly sliding the plate aside with an outstretched hoof. “This is an outrage!”
The junior cook’s assistant cowered away from his wrath. “I’m very sorry, Your Majesty. The kitchen is all out of carrots—we’re waiting for a shipment that should arrive—“
“I don’t care about excuses! I want my lunch, and I want it now!” Blueblood shoved the unsuitable offering over the edge of the fifty-seat banquet table set for one. His current victim of contrived royal outrage dove to catch the plate as it fell. The filly deserved an award for the acrobatic save; she deserved another for every minute spent tolerating the belligerent royal stallion.
Gathering herself and the rescued plate, the poor serving filly quivered under the steely gaze of the Prince. “I’ll speak to the head chef, Your Highness. Perhaps he can find a suitable alternative.”
“See that you do, and tell him that I shall never stoop so low as to dine on peasant food—the very idea… Potatoes—the nerve!” Blueblood slumped back in his chair and dismissed the filly with a wave of his impeccably manicured hoof. Backing away slowly, she gratefully escaped through the open door, tail tucked securely between her legs.
Tossing back his head and flicking his horn, Blueblood summoned an oversized personal mirror to his side. He admired his reflection while preening his already glowing mane. After sufficient care had been taken to assure his flowing tresses were as stunning as always, he absently motioned to the guard stationed at the door. “You there, guard. Tell the Princess I will be late to high tea. Due to the incompetence of the royal kitchen, I won’t have sufficient time to relax prior to our afternoon engagement given the tardiness of my lunch.”
“Umm, why don’t you tell her yourself?” The guard snickered as he backed away, making room as the imposing form of Princess Celestia walked past him into the dining hall. Blueblood nearly dropped his mirror as he quickly adjusted his posture.
Celestia craned her neck around to the guard. “That will be all for now, Sir Lighthoof. Please extend my apologies to Miss Bluebell and the head cook. While you do so, please ask if she would be so kind as to join me for high tea in the castle gardens this afternoon.” Bowing her head, she met the salute from Sir Lighthoof who trotted off in search of the recently departed cook’s assistant.
Oblivious to the stern glare of the approaching Princess, Blueblood launched into another typical rant. “I’m so glad you’re here, Princess. Something must be done about the deplorable menu selections coming out of the royal kitchen. To think they would ever consider serving a common potato—to me, a prince—I mean, what were they thinking? This is beyond unacceptable.”
“I agree. It is beyond unacceptable—” Celestia’s magic took hold of Blueblood’s chair and spun it around to face her. “—for a Prince of Equestria to behave in this manner. Sadly, I have allowed such behavior to continue far too long.”
The stunned Prince stared back in shock. “Wha? How? Whe—” He paused while the rusty wheels of thought creaked through a strained revolution. “M-Me? Surely you jest…” His face flushed as he tried to brush the accusation aside similar to his lunch.
“I can’t help but feel I am at least partially to blame for your egregious behavior, Prince Blueblood. Though it pains me greatly to do so, I am left with no reasonable alternative.” Celestia shook her head as if trying to muster the courage to go through with her plan. “You leave me no choice but to strip you of your title—and your magic—until such time as you learn your proper place in this kingdom.”
Blueblood tried to respond, but the only sound that escaped his throat warbled akin to a foal’s pouting grunts straining for a long overdue sip from their mother’s teat. Celestia’s magic engulfed him immediately. With her eyes glowing white, the words she spoke echoed through the vacuous space between his ears. “What is lost must be found; let your search start within. Discover the keys to rule faithfully, and find your place again.”
The horn of the young Prince glowed brightly under the assault of Celestia’s spell. As quick as a candle being snuffed, that light went out. Blueblood gasped with the extinguishing blow to his inherent magical abilities. The swiftness of the Princess’s actions left him little time to ponder his fate or appeal her decision. All was done prior to the concept of fault even registering through his fog of delusion.
With a second wave of her horn, Celestia summoned a scroll sealed with golden wax bearing her personal suncrest mark. Reaching out, she lifted Blueblood’s drooping head while guiding the missive between his waving mane and drawn back ear. “Here are your instructions—just four simple steps. Each one builds to the next. You’ll have ample time to look them over on the train.”
Fighting back tears, the sullen stallion grappled with his fate. “Auntie Celestia, why are you doing this? Where are you sending me?” The roiling shock of being stripped of both magic and title throbbed from his functionless horn.
“This is for your own good, nephew.” Celestia laid a hoof on his shoulder. All Blueblood felt was the chilling vacuum of warmth as he shied away from the unwelcome touch.
“This isn’t fair! What have I done to deserve this?”
“I hope you discover the answer for yourself, but that will depend entirely on you.” She gazed into his eyes piercing to his core. “Let’s hurry along now. You don’t want to be late. Once you get settled in, I know you’ll come to love—The Farm.”
Twilight peered down the tracks watching for signs of an approaching train. Applejack tapped her hoof nervously by her side. The letter from Princess Celestia hung in the air providing their only reason to be waiting on the evening train’s arrival in the gathering dusk of the Ponyville Train Station.
“I don’t get it, Twi. Why would the Princess send her nephew to Ponyville?” Applejack scanned down the message for what had to be the tenth time. “Why would she want him to work on the farm?”
“Celestia works in mysterious ways.” Twilight smiled and rolled up the letter. “Also, fun fact, since Luna never had foals, he’s technically a fourth cousin fifty-two times removed—on their mother’s side, of course. It’s just easier to say he’s their nephew since the royal family tree gets a little twisted about ten generations back.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I get to the genealogy portion of the farm chores.” Applejack returned the smile and gave Twilight a playful shove. “I just don’t get why she thinks I can help.”
Twilight shook her head. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. In any case, we better keep him away from Rarity while he’s here. Those two have some history.” Applejack nodded and turned back to watching the tracks. Off in the distance, the headlamp of the Canterlot Express blinked over the crest of the rolling hills. A toot of the whistle signaled the train’s imminent arrival.
As soon as the engine came to a stop, ponies of all ages poured from the forward cars. Twilight and Applejack craned their necks above the drove to try and catch sight of the awaited traveler. As the chatter of the departing throng died down, Applejack singled out a lone stallion struggling with his bag and trying unsuccessfully to command it down the steps of the caboose. Quickly, she hopped to his aid.
“Let me help you with that.” Applejack smiled reaching out a hoof to assist.
A growl rebuffed her offer. “She put me in coach—how dare she put me in coach!” Blueblood hopped over the pack and pony and landed on the platform. With a slight bend of his neck and an even slighter buckle in his knee, he addressed Twilight directly. “Princess Twilight, I hear you have a new castle and I can’t wait to see the royal guest rooms. I trust my accommodations shall attempt to make up for that atrocious method of conveyance.”
“Actually, Blueblood, the Princess wants you to stay at Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack replied. “We should probably get a move on since it’s gettin’ dark.”
Blueblood struck an appalled stance. “How dare you address your Prince in that tone! Servant ponies should know their place.” He waved off Applejack while appealing back to Twilight. “Are you just going to stand there and let this happen, Princess?”
“Let what happen?” Twilight exchanged a confused glance with Applejack. Cocking her head askew, she rebuked the former Prince. “This is my friend—she’s not a servant pony. And even so…” He wasn't even listening.
Blueblood sat back on his haunches as he sized up Applejack. “Shall I infer you purport to be some form of attaché for said royal retreat, what was the name of it again, sweet something-or-other?” His foreleg curled into a halfhearted attempt at a greeting as he reluctantly reached out to shake hooves.
“Name’s Applejack. Welcome to Ponyville, home of Sweet Apple Acres.” Applejack grabbed hold and vigorously shook his outstretched hoof with both of her own forehooves. “You’re going to love it here.”
“I doubt it.” Blueblood pulled back his hoof and gave it a gentle rub. “I do hope your establishment knows how to properly stock a kitchen. That dreadful train ride has left me drained, and I must insist that dinner far exceeds my shallow expectations for this one-princess-town.” He stood and sauntered off in the direction of the departed crowd. His welcoming committee sat speechless just watching him go.
Twilight bowed her head with a sigh and whispered to Applejack. “I’ll get his bags. It looks like you’re going to have your hooves full for a while.”
Applejack stared awkwardly at the departing stallion. “I sure hope the Princess knows what she’s doing, ‘cause I sure don’t.”
“How much, further, is it?” Blueblood panted, the physical exertion of having to walk across town somehow taking its toll on the pampered prince.
Applejack raised a hoof and pointed down the path ahead. “It’s just over that rise. You can see the light from the Apple farmhouse gettin’ brighter. Granny Smith is sure to have a scrumptious meal all laid out for us.”
“It’s not that far.” Twilight trotted on by with Blueblood’s bag in magical tow.
Blueblood sneered, “Maybe for you, Princess, but with every hoofstep I suffer further indignity. Having my precious magic torn from my horn is one thing; watching you flaunt yours is almost more than I can bear.”
Twilight pulled up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you carry your own bag.”
Blueblood swiftly altered course. “No, no. As you said, we’re almost there. I think I can manage a few more steps.” He picked up his gait and quickly caught up to Applejack heading over the final hill leading down to the Apple’s farm. Twilight sighed and followed.
In full view of the farmhouse resting under the soft glow of a full moon, Blueblood soldiered on. His hooves were sore and dirty, but he struggled most of all with coming to terms with his sentence. Celestia had certainly crossed the line. He was a Prince of Equestria, after all. What could he possibly have done to warrant such harsh treatment? Stripping him of his title was bad enough, but going so far as to remove his magic—that was the ultimate punishment a Unicorn could suffer. Banishment would be better, although by the looks of things, he wasn’t far off from that either.
The trio rode up to the house and Twilight set Blueblood’s bag on the front steps. She reached over and gave Applejack a departing hug. “I appreciate your willingness to help. I’m sure the Princess is grateful as well. Let me know if there’s anything I can do and remember to stick to the rules. No special treatment.”
“I got it, Twi. He’s not a prince—at least not right now. He’ll be just another set of hooves to help around the farm.” Applejack leaned in closer. “The Princess didn't happen to mention how long he’d be here, did she?”
“Not exactly.” Twilight pulled out the original note. “Take this and help him follow the instructions she sent with him. I’ll be back to check up when I can.”
“I hope there’s some instructions in there for me too. The stuff in the letter doesn’t explain a whole lot.” Applejack looked back at the house and her family standing in the doorway. Blueblood peered up at the Apples like an orphan sizing up a new foster home. Applejack sighed and turned back to Twilight. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Good luck!” Twilight spun around and spread out her wings leaping into the air. Her purple streak faded into the moonlight as Applejack rejoined the others.
“Blueblood, I’d like to introduce my family. This here’s Apple Bloom, Big Macintosh, and Granny Smith.” With a nod to the assembled group at the door, Applejack pointed back at Blueblood. “Apples, this is Blueblood, our new workingpony.”
Blueblood tossed his mane and turned up his nose. “Excuse me, but the honorific of Prince, Highness, Majesty or likewise shall always be used when addressing my royal self.”
“Eeeenope,” Big Mac replied as he spat an ear of wheat from his mouth.
“Sorry, Princess’s orders. It’ll be plain old Blueblood till I hear different.” Applejack waved her family off. “Let’s get to eatin’ so we can all get to sleepin’. We've got a big day tomorrow.”
Without complaint, the Apples all bolted for the kitchen. Blueblood’s pride took a hit, but he followed along sluggishly under Applejack’s insistence. The smell of fresh food helped sway his decision. His nose led him into the front room and straight on through an Applewood framed doorway to the kitchen. Waiting in the nook off to the side, he found a stark wooden table with a fifth odd chair pulled up along the near end. Five steaming plates overloaded with heaping mounds of some sort of brownish concoction made him reconsider his choice to join the commoner family for dinner.
“What is this?” Blueblood squinted as he sat down and poked a hoof at his plate. The delightful smell did little to match the rustic presentation.
“It’s an old Apple family recipe. Baked apples, boiled apples, and sautéed apples with a big ol’ steaming deep-fried apple on top. I call it Apple D-light .” Granny Smith beamed from across the table. “Got some apple cobbler cooling in the window for dessert as well.”
Blueblood’s appetite sank; his stomach groaned. “You wouldn't happen to have any carrots, would you?” The slender smile attached to his pitiful plea belied his inner rage. The imposing form of the stallion across the table held any stronger reaction in check.
As a group, the four Apples stared back at him with wide eyes. With hardly a second thought, they all turned back to their plates and made quick work of devouring their dinner.
Watching the others and fighting the enticing smell of the baked, boiled, sautéed, and deep-fried delight in front of him, Blueblood stood firm. His stomach tried to overrule his stubbornness, but that was asking quite a bit. At present, he would have gladly eaten whatever lay in front of him, but getting the food off his plate and into his mouth proved to be a tougher sell. Celestia’s punishment smacked him right in the horn where it hurt the most as he stared at his fork and pitied his loss of magic in using it. Defiantly he refused to lower his head to the level of his plate like a simple Earth Pony.
One by one, the Apples cleared their plates. One by one, they helped themselves to a slice of pie, which they also devoured. One by one, they rose from the table and washed off their dish. One by one, they said their good-nights and retired to bed. The lights went out, and soon only Blueblood remained at the table. Alone in the moonlight, he continued to stare at his plate and the enemy fork beside. Never in his life had he felt so lost and forsaken.
The whole world felt dark. Not just the unfamiliar nook of the kitchen, but even the glow of the moon through the window fell dull and gray across his plate. The untouched food taunted him, toying with his emotions. With the family removed from the equation, the shame of thrusting his muzzle into the sagging apple mound meant nothing. With every ounce of concentration he could muster, he reached out in shattered hope for his magic to respond. Failing yet again, he fell back in his seat.
As he sat and sulked in the knowledge of all that had been taken from him, Applejack quietly approached. A lantern hung from her neck and shone a light across the otherwise gloomy kitchen. She had left her hat on its bedroom wall hook and her mane and tail hung loose without the simple red ties normally gathering the corn-yellow strands together. A flannel nightgown draped over her flank came trimmed with a simple lace edge which softened her ordinarily rough exterior.
Blueblood hung his head. “Have you come to gloat?”
“I came to see if there was anything you needed before I hit the hay.” Applejack swung herself into a chair and set the lantern on the table.
“Just leave me alone. You have no idea what I’m going through.” Blueblood continued to stare at his plate of assorted cold apples.
“I reckon you could use somepony to talk to.” Applejack cocked her head to one side searching to catch his undivided attention. “There anything you feel like gettin’ off your back? I promise I’ll try my best to understand.”
“How could an Earth Pony ever understand what it’s like for a Unicorn to be without magic?” Blueblood turned away, careful to avoid showing his face and the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes.
“It’s probably a lot like being without your friends and family, I reckon.” Applejack hung her head and fidgeted with a loose thread on her nightgown. “A wise old pony once told me, ‘you never know what you have until it’s gone.’”
“I suppose I better get used to life without magic then.” Blueblood’s babbling turned to blubbering as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. In a moment of total self-pity, he turned back to Applejack. “Perhaps you could make yourself useful and find me a suitable place where a boulder could be dropped on my head? I don’t seem to be capable of doing it myself or I might have saved you the trouble.”
Applejack scratched at her mane and returned an awkward stare. “Now why in tarnation would you want that?”
The emotional dam sprung a leak. “I've lost my title, I've lost my magic, and I’m surrounded by Earth Ponies. I've got nothing left to live for!” Blueblood reached across the table and grabbed Applejack by the shoulders. “Help me end it all before I start talking like you too!”
Applejack swatted away Blueblood’s advance with a simple wave of her foreleg and followed up with a painfully obvious rebuttal. “Why don’t you just follow Celestia’s instructions and get your life back in order?”
He fell back in his seat with a dramatic flourish. “B-because! I don’t know how!” His lip quivered as he struggled to hold himself together. “I was born a Unicorn Prince in the royal court of Canterlot. I've never been without my magic, and I've always had a servant to take care of everything else.” He shook his head forward and knocked the instruction scroll loose letting it fall to the table. “Without my magic, I don’t even know how to pick up a fork, let alone a scroll. Even if I did, I never learned how to read—I always had somepony else do it for me!”
“Well, that sure explains a lot.” Applejack brushed back a lock of her mane.
“I can’t believe I told you that! Not even Celestia knows I can't read!” Blueblood buried his face in his hooves. “Make it stop! I don’t deserve this—I’m royalty!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s why you’re here—to learn what you never had a chance to learn as a prince.” Applejack reached out and opened the scroll. With only four lines to read, she quickly scanned the list and gazed up into Blueblood’s red and swollen eyes peeking out from behind his raised hooves. “Celestia’s list don’t sound too complicated, and I’m willin’ to help you with it if that’s what you want.”
Blueblood’s tears left a glistening trail down both cheeks. He looked up and past the lantern to the glowing face of the mare offering him assistance. How could she possibly help me? Why would I let her? Maybe I should play along? How much worse could it get? Competing thoughts raced through his mind as the ongoing battle of pride versus humility fought for ultimate dominance. His self-worth gauge was at an all-time low and there seemed nowhere left to go, but up.
“Applejack,” he whispered amidst swirling thoughts of fear, uncertainty, and doubt, “I need your help.” Pride took a tumble as he altered course raising the white flag of surrender.
Applejack set the scroll down as the first line began to glow turning from black to gold ink. Scanning over at the inquisitive look from Blueblood, she quoted what it said. “Ask for help.” She smiled and nodded. “See, that wasn't so hard—only three more to go. Now, how’s about we get you something to eat and start fresh in the morning?”
“That sounds delightful.” Blueblood wiped away his tears and broached a pitiful attempt at a smile. The prospect of food overshadowed his mission to reclaim his magic and title for an instant driven by the incessant plea of his stomach in response to Applejack’s offer. In that moment, he slipped back into familiar tones. “I’ll have a plate of peeled carrots with a sprig of asparagus—and a cup of honey infused tea. No need to bother with the garnish.”
Applejack shook her head. “How ‘bout an apple?”
“Uhh, I-I don’t think that’s wise.” Blueblood’s lip shook as he stared down at the cold plate of apple delight. “Could I get a fresh one, perhaps?” Applejack nodded and stood up to fetch a raw apple from the bushel basket by the stove. Blueblood qualified his request in transition, “You should peel and core it as well. I hate it when those little bits get stuck in my teeth.”
She paused a moment as she grabbed for a Red Delicious off the top of the pile. “How ‘bout I show you how to do it yourself?”
Blueblood chuckled uneasily. “Silly mare. I can’t even manage a fork, and you want me wielding a knife? Are you mad?” His stomach groaned in desperation.
Applejack relented, taking pity on her starving guest. “Alright, just this once. But you gotta promise, starting tomorrow, that your attitude is gonna change.”
“I-I promise.” Blueblood averted his eyes and hung his head. He wasn't sure what he promised, but he knew it came with a meal. That was all that mattered at the moment.
Applejack peeled and cored the apple like a pro. Laying her creation on the table, she took a step back narrowly avoiding Blueblood as he dove in and devoured it whole. A few chomps and a giant swallow later, he pushed back from the table. Without a word of thanks, he motioned toward the door. “I shall retire now. Fetch my bag and lead the way to the royal guest house.”
“The what?” Applejack grabbed the lantern and tossed the strap around her neck.
“The royal accommodations—I assume that’s what the red building in the courtyard is for. It looks a little small, but given the circumstances, I wasn’t expecting much.”
Applejack chuckled. “Suit yourself.” She led the way out of the kitchen, through the front room, and straight out the front door. With a kick and a flip of her hind leg, Blueblood’s bag landed on her back. Guest in tow, she trotted to the barn and swung back the door. Standing aside, she bowed and motioned him inside. “Your royal accommodations.”
“Do you provide a turn-down service?” Blueblood queried as he peered ahead into the dark interior. “I favor a leaf of mint on my pillow.”
“We’re fresh out of mint, but we do provide a g’night service.” Applejack waited as Blueblood sauntered into the barn. Once through the door, she tossed his bag in after him. “There’s a nice pile of hay over in the corner. Don’t let the rooster bother you none. G’night!” With another buck, she slammed the door shut and trotted off toward the farm house.
Blueblood staggered around in the dark. “Applejack? I’m not seeing a bed… And what was that about a bother?” Tiny eyes peered down at him from the rafters above. If he ever made it to sleep, morning would come with an unpleasant surprise.
Blueblood always knew he hated roosters and now he knew why. At the crack of dawn, the farm’s resident alarm clock blared its wake-up call. Rolling off the wrong side of the haystack, he knocked his head against a post. The physical pain from the bump radiated a reminder of the barren horn beside it.
Rubbing his head, he stood up and took in his surroundings with some assistance from the morning sun. Glaring up at the rays cascading through the loft door above, he cursed his relation. “I always liked Luna more.” Sticking out his tongue he spat a dusty ball of half-chewed hay from his mouth. It seemed he had come to a liking of his bed after all. In the light of day, he regretfully realized his pillow wasn’t meant to snack on.
A knock at the door and a creak of the hinge signaled another intrusion on his fallen domain. Applejack stuck her head in. “Rise and shine! Take a quick breakfast and I’ll see ya in the orchard in five.” With a thud, a broad plank of wood dropped through the door.
A perfectly sliced apple with a side glass of cider seemed fitting for a royal criminal stuffed in a cage on the edge of the civilized world. Blueblood staggered over to the tray and glared down at the meager offering. I get it. I like carrots and she sends me to an apple farm. Very funny, Celestia. Very funny.
The apple went down easy. The glass, not so much. Giving up any chance at a proper sip and swallow, he took the entire cup in his mouth and shot the contents down his throat with a single flip of his neck. Spitting out the empty cup, he swore again. Apple juice, bah! Can’t a grown stallion get some morning cider?” Taking a moment to clear his head and shake off the bits of hay that clung to his body, he stepped through the door of the royal quarters and into the bright light of day.
Blueblood rubbed his eyes and twisted around for a better view of the farm. The far gate ahead led to the path heading back into town. The farmhouse and its Earth Pony inhabitants stood to his right. The orchard sat all around closing in on every side. The thought crossed his mind that this was his chance; he could make a run for it. That thought instantly vanished. Where would he go? No pony would ever take him in. The only reason Applejack let him stay came straight from Celestia’s order. He was stuck—no way out of this one.
“Over here, Blue!” Applejack yelled across the yard. “Come help me stack these baskets.”
Blueblood took a long, hard look at the gate before turning back toward Applejack and her cart. He did ask for her help, after all, and she seemed genuinely interested for some reason. Maybe I just need to play along some more and see what it gets me. He trotted over to the waiting taskmaster, hesitant to receive his next punishment.
“We got a long day ahead, and this is only the first step.” Applejack heaved a stack of empty bushel baskets onto the cart. “Grab a load and toss it on up. We gotta get out there and gather the crop before we get to the afternoon deliveries.”
Blueblood stared down at the basket in front of him. The stains from previous produce left a sour smell in the air. Reaching out a hoof, he pushed at the rim managing to transport the stack a few inches. Another shove moved it twice as far. Another half dozen taps and the basket stack was ready for lifting.
Applejack swooped in and scooped up the load tossing the stack on the cart with a swipe of her neck and shoulder. “Gotta work faster than that, Blue.” In the time he moved a single stack, she had filled the rest of the cart. “Let’s get you hitched up and out in the fields.”
“Hitched up?” Blueblood turned his head to the harness of the cart. A sinking feeling registered in his belly. “You don’t think I’m going to let you bind me to this vehicle, now do you?”
“How else are you going to pull the cart?” Applejack moved over into position and held up the harness. “Get on over here and get yourself buckled in.”
“But?” Blueblood tried to protest. Running through the gates seemed a more viable plan with every passing moment. “Why should I do that?”
“Well, I guess you could go help Big Mac. I just figured we’d start you with something easy and work our way up to that.” Applejack cocked her head to the side. “It’s your choice. I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t believe my punishment was meant to include manual labor. Haven’t I suffered enough?” Blueblood kicked a rock aside. “Can’t I judge the Miss Ponyville contest instead? My impeccable taste and judgment is all but wasted on farming.”
“Now listen here, Blue. Celestia put me in charge of things.” She fixed her stare straight down on him. “Wouldn’t be doing you any favors if I let you off easy.”
Blueblood stomped his hoof. “And what if I refuse?”
Applejack rubbed her chin. “I guess that’s up to you. I got no problem sending you home and telling the Princess I couldn’t help fix you.”
Must… play… along… “Fine.” Blueblood heaved himself into position. The chill of the harness sent a tingle down his spine as Applejack cinched down the strap. A smirk crossed his face. “As a beast of burden, I expect double rations at the next feeding.”
Applejack chuckled. “Fine with me. In fact, you can have all the apples you want.” She hopped back and turned toward the north field. “Follow me and try to stay out of the mud.”
Lurching forward, the harness yanked the loose end of Blueblood’s mane. With a yelp, the cart followed. I hate my life. He meandered forward riding the wave of momentum from behind and mostly trying not to get run over or torn back in the sway. I should have taken the gate.
For a pony who hadn't worked a single day in his life, he caught on pretty quick. Work was hard. Bound to a cart and struggling to keep pace, he called ahead, “Applejack, I need a break. This harness is starting to chafe. Can’t we rest for a moment?”
“Buck up and deal, Blue. We've got a lot of work to do today and you ain't seen the half of it yet.” Another apple batch fell from above as Applejack launched her hindquarters at the next tree. Baskets all around filled to overflowing with the crop.
“When will lunch be served then?” he asked picking at his teeth.
“What do you mean? You haven’t stopped eating all morning.” Applejack toted away the basket sitting in front of him and tossed it on the cart.
“That was hardly a snack. They weren’t even peeled,” Blueblood protested. “Now I’ve got the little bits stuck in my teeth. I warned you this would happen.”
“And I warned you about doing some real work so you could learn a thing or two about where it all comes from.” The last of the baskets found its way to the cart stack.
“I’m not stupid. I know that apples grow on trees.” He held up a hoof for inspection. “What I wasn’t counting on is how dirty one gets in collecting them.”
“Like I said, you ain’t seen the half of it yet.” Applejack gave a knowing smile and trotted off ahead. “Try and keep up. We need to head into town to make our deliveries. If we hurry, we might make it back in time for dinner.”
“Can’t we take turns pulling the cart?” Blueblood yelled ahead.
“Don’t make me get the bridle.” Applejack’s threat, hollow or not, got him moving.
Applejack scooped up the handle of another basket of apples in her mouth and trotted over to her next delivery. Blueblood wiped the sweat from his eyes and fussed with his mane to try and extract more of the hay that had embedded itself over the course of a restless night.
With only a half dozen or so delivery stops left, it was taking longer than Applejack anticipated. The extra help she was getting slowed her down considerably. The cart load diminished as they went, but some goods also came back in trade. Blueblood’s incessant whining made the work drag on even more.
On her return, he posed yet another question making an even dozen on the day. “Tell me again how this works—you trade for things you need?”
“That’s right. We give our neighbors the apples that we grow on the farm, and they give us whatever they make in trade.” Applejack tossed a bottle of milk on the cart and started off down the path again. “Sometimes they just pay with bits, but it’s nice when we both get something we need.”
Blueblood strained to get the cart moving again so he could follow. “But not everypony pays you in bits or makes an exchange of goods, so why do you still give them your apples?” The intricacies of the system confused him to no end. As a prince, everything he wanted had always been laid at his hooves. Money and trade were foreign concepts meant for those born to the common class. The money part he partially understood due to the number of affluent ponies in Canterlot, but the idea of Applejack giving away her goods freely baffled his royal mind.
“Not every pony can afford to buy our apples, but that don’t mean they don’t need ‘em.” Applejack gestured back down the path. “That young mare a couple blocks back can barely afford to keep a roof over her head—and she’s got a hungry foal to feed as well. I've got plenty of apples, and it won’t hurt me none to give her some extras.”
“But you make her work off her debt, don’t you?” Blueblood brushed back his mane ejecting a spray of lingering chaff.
“She’s already got a job, and what little time she isn't working, she spends with her young’un.” Applejack steered the cart and driver around. “Let’s go back and I’ll show you what I mean.” Blueblood followed her direction and slowly made the turn. Retracing his steps down the path, the weight of the cart seemed to double.
They pulled up in front of a small house on the edge of town and Applejack released Blueblood from the harness. She reached into the cart and pulled out a bucket of carrots tossing in the recently acquired bottle of milk. Passing over to Blueblood, she shoved the bucket handle in his mouth. “Go over there and knock on the door. When she answers, give her this food,” Applejack ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” Blueblood slapped a sarcastic hoof to his forehead in salute and shuffled off toward the house. With the bucket hanging from his mouth, he could hardly object. It did feel nice to be free of the cart harness, however.
Coming up to the drab wooden door, he reached out and knocked, careful not to chip a hoof. From within, he could hear the muffled voice of a young filly. “Mommy, mommy—somepony’s at the door. Can I get it?” He didn't catch a reply, but the handle turned and the door swung in. Standing in the doorway, a light-lavender filly with a golden mane and big orange eyes stared up at him. The tip of a horn barely emerged from the crown of her head through a mess of tangled hair.
Blueblood stared down at the little one. Bucket handle still in his mouth, he tried to speak. “Ith yer mother hoe?” The filly just sat there with a wide grin on her face and blinked once in response.
Coming to the rescue, a young Pegasus mare rounded the corner and stepped in front of the filly. She pulled the little pony back, scolding her actions. “What have I told you about opening the door to strangers, Dinky?”
The little one hung her head. “That I should wait for you cause I’m not a grown-up.”
Blueblood wasted no time with pleasantries and dropped the bucket on the ground. “These are for you, I guess.”
The mare glanced down at the offering and shook her head. “But… I can’t pay for those.” She reached out a hoof and tried to push the bucket away.
Blueblood raised a hoof and motioned over his shoulder. “She says I’m supposed to give them away. I guess she doesn't want them—probably rotten.”
The Pegasus raised her head and peered out into the street. “Oh, hello Applejack. Weren’t you just here?”
“We had some extra stuff,” Applejack replied. “Thought you’d like some milk and carrots. They’re definitely not rotten.”
“I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you!” Biting her lip, she moved aside as Dinky scampered through her legs and hoisted the bucket handle over her little horn before gleefully retreating into the house. The mare gestured after her with her foreleg, addressing her guests. “Please come in and have some dinner then. I’m sure I can whip up a carrot-apple salad in no time at all.”
“Thanks for the offer, but we’re way behind as it is. You two enjoy and be sure and let me know if you need anything else.” Applejack quickly slipped into the cart harness. “C’mon Blueblood, we need to finish our route so we can get back to the farm.”
“Thank you so much, Applejack. We really appreciate it.” She waved and pulled back inside before shutting the door in Blueblood’s face.
Blueblood’s jaw dropped an inch. He turned back to Applejack, and then back at the door, and then back at the departing Applejack. “But… the carrots? My dinner?” His appeal fell on deaf ears as Applejack broke into a trot leaving him stunned, shaken, and pretty far behind once he realized his meal ticket was leaving him in the dust.
Free of the load of the cart, it didn’t take much to catch up to her. Even so, he came up panting following the short run. His back hurt, his legs hurt, even his mane and tail hurt. Actually, they were more frazzled than hurt, but it still felt the same. You can do this. Can’t let her beat you.
Applejack stopped with her payload poised to continue the deliveries. “How about you take care of the rest?” She gestured back to the half dozen apple baskets left in the cart. “Let’s just give ‘em away, you know, to save time. Don’t want to be late for supper.”
Blueblood’s teeth began to hurt just staring at the bucket handles. Nonetheless, he bit down and brought up a catch. Swinging free of the cart, he hauled his way over to the house. The bucket rattled as it hit the ground and his hoof beat the door with a dull thud. From over his shoulder, Applejack prodded, “remember to smile,” before moving on ahead.
An older stallion opened the door and greeted Blueblood with a half-tooth grin. Through a strained smirk of his own, Blueblood addressed him. “No charge.” Turning away, his attention shifted back to the cart and making the next delivery.
The old pony replied, “Thank you, kind sir.”
“You’re welcome,” came Blueblood’s hesitant response. Processing the exchange, he hurried to catch up with the moving cart. Did he just say what I think he said? Kind? What did I say? Adding that to his previous experience, the image of the mare and her filly remained at the fore of his thoughts.
Over the course of the next five stops, he struggled to understand the warm feeling spreading inside him. He tried to pass it off as hunger, but it didn't quite fit. This was something new; something he didn't know existed. These ponies received something for nothing, and they weren't even royalty. Words he rarely heard nipped at his ears with each encounter. Kind. Generous. Grateful. He soaked it all in.
Applejack smiled and tipped her hat to her grateful patrons. A priceless lesson learned was worth all the apples she had to give. She pulled out Blueblood’s instructions from under her hat and watched as the second line changed to gold. Do something nice for somepony else . Glancing down at the next two steps, she figured it would take more than apples to help him overcome the rest of Celestia’s simple checklist.
With a spring in his step and a bounce to his gait, Blueblood smiled as he joined back up with Applejack. “I might be wrong, but I feel like I’m getting the hang of this.”
“Just in time to head home.” Applejack clapped Blueblood’s shoulder. “Race you to supper.” With a clop of her hooves, she took off toward the farm.
Blueblood hurried after, pain registering again as he watched in awe at her ease in driving the cart. Must be an Earth Pony thing—impervious to pain.
“I don’t get it. Why the fascination with apples?” Blueblood hunched over another plate laced with the family’s staple fruit.
“We live on an apple farm, duh.” Apple Bloom scooped up a spoonful of applesauce and casually flipped it around.
“Sow what you reap—or was it the other way around?” Granny Smith maneuvered her knife and fork into an apple turnover while nudging the filly beside her. “Don’t play with your food, hon.”
“Stick with what you know.” Applejack stood up to carry her plate to the sink. “Let the neighbors take care of the rest.”
“Surely you diversify to some degree.” Blueblood chomped away at his food oblivious to his manners in speaking with a full mouth.
“We got a small patch out back. Just a couple things is all. Parsnips, celery, radishes, carrots, potatoes…” Applejack tipped her plate in the sink. “We’re known for the apples though.”
“I see.” Blueblood’s plate reflected his tired gaze. “They are quite good, if I must say.” Pushing back from the table, he stretched and yawned. “Time for bed then. If you wouldn’t mind, could you find another place for your rooster? I much prefer a gradual arousal come morning.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Applejack scooped up Blueblood’s plate with a frown watching the stallion depart for the barn.
Once again, at the crack of dawn, the antagonist extraordinaire blared his wake up call. Blueblood stared at the beast with a look that could kill. Another sleepless night of tossing in the hay put him in a sour mood. His joints creaked. His muscles rebelled. He got up and waved the bird off. So much for gradual.
Right on cue, Applejack came calling. With a rap on the door, she hollered through the slats. “Granny’s got breakfast on the table. Let’s get a move on, Blue.”
Dumping out his bag, Blueblood sorted through his personal affects. A mirror and a brush were the first interests that caught his eye. Looking down awkwardly, a dirty, disheveled muzzle reflected back in the ornamental frame. Try as he might, the brush still wouldn’t obey his lack of magical command. He nudged it with a hoof, concentrating with all his might to grab a solid hold. Finally giving up, he took the handle in his mouth and went in search of an assistant. The breakfast table was sure to have what he needed.
Apple Bloom wasn’t his first choice, but the old mare and the crusty stallion sitting in the kitchen seemed less suitable to the task. Tugging through his golden locks, mane and hay fell away in clumps from his neck. On to the tail, the prick of pins in his dock had him flinch with each pull. “Ouch,” he repeated for the twentieth time as the filly mangled her way through his preening. “Where’s your sister at anyway?”
“She went to check with the neighbors.” Apple Bloom grunted as the brush slipped through the bottom half of his tail. “Now hold still.” The last bits of hay fell away leaving a generally silky train behind.
“Woah nelly!” Applejack burst in the door. “Have I got a day planned for you, Blue.”
“Let me guess, more apples.” The color drained from Blueblood’s face.
“Nope. Thought I’d change it up a bit.” Applejack beamed with pride. “Got a deal with the next farm over. You help plow their south field, and you’ll earn a pick of their main crop for supper.”
A blank stare glared back. “Let me see if I understood you correctly. I help plow an entire field, and then I get to eat dinner.” Blueblood sat back on his haunches weighing his options. “Doesn’t quite add up.”
“I figured you’d object, but that’s not all.” She reached under her hat and pulled out a surprise. Slapping down a large orange root, the instruction sheet came wrapped around the veggie. “Just thought I’d mention, they’re famous for growing carrots.”
Having just eaten his fill of breakfast apples, the ripe juicy carrot taunted Blueblood all the same. “When do we start?”
Applejack unwrapped the carrot from the scroll and held it out for Blueblood to sniff. He tried to snap at it, but she pulled it away. His teeth clattered against one another missing the bite. “Not so fast. Honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. You gotta keep your end of the deal or you’re skipping supper. Understood?”
Blueblood rubbed his jaw. “Understood.”
“Alright then. I’ll hang on to this.” She stuck the scroll back under her hat. “Only two more steps to go and you’re home-free. Let’s see if we can’t make some progress on that today too.” Blueblood’s pleading eyes worked their magic. She tossed him the carrot and headed for the door. “Follow me.”
Blueblood snagged the carrot in his mouth. Wait a minute. Weren’t there four steps? Applejack was out the door before he could ask. The delicious crunch of the fresh carrot took his mind off the follow-up.
The next farm wasn’t far—just down the lane and over a small hill. The fields behind stretched to the edge of the Everfree forest. A goal planted firmly in his head, Blueblood strode down the path with Applejack at his side. Big Mac brought up the rear. From above, another pony winged over the procession.
Coming to rest a few yards ahead, Twilight folded her wings back against her body. “Good morning,” she called with a smile in her voice.
Oh great, she’s here. Blueblood was past caring about the formalities concerning the arrival of Princess Twilight. The looming stallion behind gave him pause, but Twilight just added to the stress. He kept his head low and plodded along trying to concentrate on his reward.
“Heya, Twilight. How you been?” Applejack trotted up and gave her friend a hug.
“Busy as always,” Twilight replied. “The new arrival shelving work for A-F is done.” She leaned in and whispered in Applejack’s ear. “How goes the you-know-what with you-know-who?”
“Got it all under control.” Applejack tipped her hat and continued down the lane.
Blueblood barely registered the question posed by the Princess and would have liked to ignore her completely. “Blueblood?” Twilight fell back in line with the stallion. “How are you doing today?”
“How does it look like I’m doing?” Blueblood grumbled.
“It looks like you’re unhappy, but coping.” Twilight grinned supportively. “I wish I could help, but Princess Celestia specifically said—“
“I don’t care what she said.” Blueblood snarled. He pushed on ahead barely acknowledging Twilight. “Just take your wings, and your crown, and your magic, and go back to your castle—Princess.”
“A-Alright.” Twilight broke off from the pack. “I’m sorry I bothered you.” With the stinging rebuke, Twilight unfurled her wings and took to the sky.
“Twilight!” Applejack called out to her friend, but she was already gone. Turning back to Blueblood as Twilight streaked away, she scowled. “Now what’s the big deal? Why you gotta go and hurt her feelings like that? She’s just trying to help.”
Blueblood shrank into a ball. “I-I’m sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean it like that.” Big Mac passed by giving the meanest of glares he had ever seen. “It’s hard for me, okay. She’s a princess—I was a prince. She’s got magic—I don’t. She represents everything I’ve lost and I don’t want to be reminded of it.”
“Well, I ain’t a princess, and I don’t got any fancy magic neither. Doesn’t mean I get to squawk and jaw at some pony that does—or used to.” Applejack’s glare focused down on Blueblood.
He hung his head in shame. “You’re right, Applejack—as usual. I’m just a horrible pony that doesn’t deserve any friends.” The tone in his voice suggested otherwise.
“Now, don’t get all passive-aggressive on me.” Applejack smiled. “You’re here to learn how to be a better stallion. You just gotta stop thinking about yourself so much and start thinking about everypony around you.”
“Easier said than done.” Blueblood broke into a full canter. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m not in the mood.” Applejack just shook her head and raced him to the neighboring barn.
The trio pulled up on the edge of the south fields. In varying degrees, the crop sprouted across marked sections of earth. The portion on the far southern end near the forest looked to be the area in need of a plow. At the top of the section, a rusty old plow and harness sat idle.
Blueblood sighed as he sized up the wicked contraption. Applejack waved him off and signaled for her brother to give a demonstration. Big Mac stepped forward and aligned himself with the plow. No sooner had Applejack tightened the harness, he took off across the field. The earth split in twain as the blade tore a gash down the stretch. A twin row formed alongside with the return. Faster than Blueblood could say horsefeathers , the demonstration was over.
“That’s all there is to it. Just keep the lines straight and you’re all set.” Applejack hopped aside as Big Mac lumbered back in. “Let’s have you give it try.” She hoisted the harness off her brother and paused while Blueblood meandered into position.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not that easy.” Blueblood twisted his neck to adjust the lay of the collar. All strapped in, he moved to take a step forward. “Here goes nothing.” The collar bit and the traces pulled taunt.
That was as far as he went.
“Really?” Blueblood drew back. “I didn’t sign up for this.” Along the fence line leading back up the path, a small assembly had formed. The resident farmer was to be expected, as was Apple Bloom or even Granny Smith. The rest of the crowd seemed a bit overkill. Blueblood shook his head and gestured toward the gawking onlookers—more joining with each passing moment.
“Looks like you’ve got a cheering section, Blue.” Applejack chuckled and waved her hat at the crowd. Apple Bloom and her friends had front row seats hanging over the low fence rail. The rest of their school friends perched precariously down the line. With the fillies and colts in attendance, their parents weren’t far behind. It seemed a good part of town had gotten word of the event about to unfold and wanted to witness first-hoof.
“Take this stupid harness off, Applejack. I want to go home.” Blueblood turned away and tried to hide his face. “Everypony’s here to make fun of me. ‘Look at the Prince. Isn’t he silly?’ I refuse to play the part of the fool!”
“What?” Applejack turned back from the crowd. “Are you kidding?” She walked over to Blueblood and coaxed his head back around. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what they’re about.”
The rising wave of a swelling chant met Bluebloods ears. “Blueblood, Blueblood!” Louder and louder it rang. “Blueblood, Blueblood!” Finally, it reached a screaming cheer as the ponies along the fence clapped their hooves, whistling and urging him on.
His ears perked up, jaw slackened. “Are they… Are they, cheering?” Blueblood couldn’t believe it. Never in his life had anypony, let alone a whole group of them, ever cheered his name in what could be considered a positive light. His spirits rose; his chest puffed out in pride. He took a step forward and jerked back to reality as the plow blade bit hard. “Arghh…”
His knees buckled and he faltered nearly falling to the ground. Applejack joined the second chorus. “Blueblood, Blueblood!” Renewed strength flowed through his body, the voices somehow buoying him up. He laid a hoof out in front. A second one followed. His hind legs quivered as they slowly edged forward. One… Two… Three… Four. The movement came naturally. The grating scrape of dirt against the leading edge of the plow underscored the chant.
I… can’t believe I’m doing it. Gaining speed with each step, he drew across the field. “I’m doing it!” he yelled back to Applejack.
“Woohoo!” she hollered in return.
“Eeeyup!” came Big Mac’s approval.
Reaching the other end of the field he stopped and turned back to the crowd giving a little bow. Applejack raced up beside him. “It’s a good start.” Looking back across the field, a zig-zagging swath of dirt lay in the plow’s wake. “Let’s see if we can’t fix up those lines on the next pass. The trick is to stay focused. Pick a target and head right for it. Don’t get sidetracked.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” Blueblood spun around and scanned down the line of trees. “They all look the same.”
“I got an idea. Gimmie just a sec.” Applejack took off toward the barn. Nearing the edge of the neighboring field, she pulled up, reached down, and tugged out a plant. In a flash, she darted off toward the tree line. At the end of the current row, she signaled hoisting a carrot atop her hat. That was all the motivation he needed.
The crowd began their chant. Blueblood lined up his shot focusing in on the carrot. One hoof in front of the other, he set off on his quest for a straight row. The dirt gave way as the plow drove through. Eyes forward, neck strained, legs shaking, he pushed ahead. Applejack’s chanting kept his movement in rhythm. At the end, the carrot would be his.
Applejack bowed her head as Blueblood approached. “Take your time. Keep it steady.” Her words of encouragement helped fuel the burning fire in his belly. Blueblood panted as the sweat rolled down his cheeks. Reaching the end of the row, he stopped just inches from his prize.
“How was that?” he exhaled between gasps. Applejack lifted her head and eyed the row. A valley as straight as any of Big Mac’s work ran the length of the field.
“Darn near perfect, Blue.” She tilted her head and offered up the snack.
Blueblood wheeled around and lined himself up for another pass. “I’m all set. Let’s go again.”
Applejack took a moment to respond. “Don’t you want your carrot?”
Blueblood smiled back. “It’s not mine until the work’s done.”
With the sun having set, the evening meal paid ample reward for an honest day’s work. For Blueblood, the first-hoof experience of bringing food to the table felt akin to torture. The previous day, his body merely objected to the concept of forced labor. Having spent the entire day dragging a plow blade through the fields, his royally weak muscles streaked past objecting and fell straight to surrender. He moaned and groaned as Applejack tried to ease his pain.
“I changed my mind. This is worse than death. Kill me now!” Blueblood hung his head over the edge of the couch. He lay flat on his back and rocked from side to side. His legs stuck out at odd angles while off the other end, his tail hung limp.
“Just close your eyes and relax.” Applejack stuffed another pillow under his neck and continued to knead through his mane.
“I can’t feel my hooves! My legs are numb from the knees down.” Blueblood’s wailing hit a high note as Applejack dug through a rough spot above his shoulders.
“I promise you’ll pull through. You’re just sore from tugging the plow is all.” Applejack could see the raw skin beneath remnants of hair where the plow harness rubbed against the nape of his neck and down across his upper forelegs.
“That infernal contraption has maimed me for life,” Blueblood sniffled between ragged gasps as Applejack worked her massage magic down into his shoulders. “And I didn’t even make any progress on the list.”
“Don’t be silly. Hard work’s good for you—ain’t that right, big brother?” Applejack peeked up at Big Mac and the others watching from the kitchen.
Big Mac slurped up the last of his apple-noodle soup. Swallowing hard, he eyed the Prince. “Eeeyup.”
Applejack rubbed down his foreleg. “I saw you make a ton of progress today, Blue. It don’t matter what the list says about that.” The moans and groans grew louder. “A good night’s sleep and you’ll be right as rain—ready to face another day.”
Blueblood looked up in terror. “Please don’t make me sleep in the guest house! I’ll sleep anywhere but there.”
“Actually, I was going to let you sleep in my room.” Applejack bit her lip considering the less than perfect accommodations of the barn. “I can bunk with Apple Bloom and you can have my bed. How does that sound?”
Blueblood strained to lift himself from the couch. What little energy he had left wasn't enough to do much more than roll him on his side. With a weary sigh, he laid his head back down on the pillow. “I’ll just stay here—I don’t think I can make it up the stairs.”
Having cleared their plates, the Apples filed past giving little heed to the invalid occupying their front room. The troop marched on up the stairs with barely a whisper of “good night.” They had all had their fill of Blueblood for one day.
Applejack pulled the blanket from the back of the couch down over his flank. Getting up, she walked around the room extinguishing the candles and welcoming in the moonlight. Hoisting the final light of her lantern around her neck, she paused as she walked by her charge and gave him a parting pat on the head. “You done good today, Blue.” With no immediate reply, she made her way to the stairs.
A strained voice called out as she laid her hoof on the first step. “Applejack, could I ask you something?”
Applejack turned back. “Sure, Blue. What’s on your mind?”
“Why do you think Celestia hates me?” Blueblood’s comment hung in the air, heavy in the silence that followed.
Applejack crossed back over to the couch and sat down on a nearby seat. “Blueblood, you got it all wrong. Celestia doesn’t hate you; she’s trying to help you.”
“Then why did she take my magic and send me away? Why make me work on a farm? I fail to see how that possibly translates to assisting me in any way.”
“Honestly, I don’t know why she did all that, but I trust she’s got her reasons.” Applejack lifted the lantern from her neck and set it on the table. “Maybe she figured you were missing something in life—something you could only learn here on the farm. I figure she tried the best she could, but there's some things you just can’t do living in a castle in Canterlot.”
Blueblood turned to face the lantern. “Being a prince is all I've ever known. I never stopped to consider where the food I ate came from. It never mattered.” He held a sore hoof in front of his face. “I had no idea growing it was so hard. I’ll never look at carrots the same way again—or apples for that matter.”
“I was raised on the farm. Hard work’s part of my blood. I got no idea what it feels like to live in a fancy castle with a bunch of ponies doing all the work for me.” Applejack smiled in the flickering light of the lantern. “Actually sounds kind of nice.”
“It is.” Blueblood pushed himself up a bit, wincing through the pain. His soft blue eyes caught the gleam from the lantern, and he bowed his head. “Thank you, Applejack. I guess I've got a lot to learn and you’re an amazing pony to help me through all this. It seems I've been a terrible prince and I've got a lot of making up to do.” He slumped back down and heaved a heavy sigh. “I just wish it wasn't so hard.” Catching a shimmer out of the corner of his eye, he cast a sideways glance at his benefactress. “Applejack, why is your hat glowing?”
Applejack reached up and took the hat from her head. Inside, the instruction scroll glowed brighter than the light from the dying lantern. She pulled it out and showed Blueblood the transformation of the third item on Celestia’s list. “Three down and one to go. Looks like you’re not such a bad student after all.”
“I figure I've got a pretty special teacher.” Blueblood’s pained grimace curled into a slight smile. “By the way, what does it say?”
“Sorry, forgot you can’t read.” Applejack held the scroll near his face and pointed out the words as she spoke. “Be honest with yourself .” She scratched her head and blushed in the fading light of the glowing ink turned gold. “Guess I am sort of an expert on that topic. Still, that all came from you, Blue. I’m glad I got to see the change.”
“Maybe there’s still hope for me yet.” Blueblood turned his head and stared at the ceiling. “Then again, Celestia probably saved the hardest one for last.” With a yawn, he settled back into the pillow. “Would you mind telling me what it says?”
Applejack looked down at the scroll and then back over at Blueblood. “This last one’s only as hard as you want to make it. Could be easy; could be tough. It says, Treat others like you want to be treated .” She reached over and pulled the blanket back over his forelegs. “Tomorrow’s another day and we can work it out together. Sleep tight, Blue.”
“Thanks, AJ. You too.” Blueblood closed his eyes as Applejack gathered her things. Before she reached the upper landing, he was fast asleep.
Twilight soared over the east orchard. A mid-morning breeze rustled the leaves of the trees below as she caught sight of her friend. Banking into a spiral descent, she floated in for a landing. Applejack’s back hooves connected with a sturdy tree trunk and the resulting rain of apples filled the strategically placed bushel baskets below.
“Good morning, Applejack,” Twilight began with a smile. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you and Blueblood were doing. I hadn't heard anything for a while and I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“He’s not here,” Applejack said with a grunt as she bucked into a second trunk. “I put him on the train to Canterlot first thing this morning.”
Twilight drew back warily. “Is something wrong? Did you have a fight?”
“Nope.” Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “He’s all reformed, so he went home.”
“He what?!” Twilight squealed in shock. “How did that happen?”
Applejack reached under her hat and pulled out the scroll of instructions which she tossed over to Twilight. “See for yourself.”
Twilight read through the list in the blink of an eye. Pausing at the end, she questioned, “Why is the last line written in black ink and the rest in gold?”
“Because he’s not done takin’ care of that one yet.” Applejack just smiled as Twilight’s brain kicked into rational overdrive.
“So, you lied to me?”
“Never!” Applejack sneered at the notion. “Blueblood’s as flipped around as winter turned summer. He just wanted to get back home and tie off some loose ends. I got a feelin’ that last line’s about to light up like the rest any moment now.”
“I've known Blueblood for years and he’s always been a huge—royal—pain in the flank.” Twilight rubbed at her temple trying to ease the pain of an equation that wasn't adding up. “How did you do it?”
Applejack burst out in full on laughter. “I can’t take all the credit. He was the one making the changes. After a couple days of honest work, he turned out to be one of the best workingponys we’ve ever had on the farm. Actually, I’m kind of sad to see him go. All he wanted this morning was a bucket of carrots and scrawny potatoes he dug up himself plus a little help getting’ on the train.”
“That doesn't make any sense.” Twilight struggled with the idea of a reformed Blueblood given her recent encounter. “Are you sure he’s not faking it?”
“Sure as I’ll ever be. Even wrote a note to the Princess saying as such.” Applejack waved Twilight toward the farmhouse and started walking in that direction. “Don’t believe me, you can ask the family—I even have a letter that he wrote for you saying how sorry he was.”
Twilight followed along still mired in thought. “You've got to tell me everything that happened. I’m going to need to write a paper on this.”
Applejack just smiled and kept on walking.
It took a little coaxing, but Blueblood eventually won over Celestia. Applejack’s letter certainly helped seal the deal. Fresh off the morning train, he had raced to the throne room and begged for a chance to make things right. Hesitantly, she granted his request—if for nothing more than sheer curiosity to see how things would play out.
The time arrived and the anxious Prince stood to the side of the dining hall table. Having made a valiant effort at setting three seats for lunch, he awaited his guests. Celestia watched from the shadows on a balcony overlooking the hall.
From the far doors, a stallion in a royal guard tunic and a mare in a stunning blue-silk gown approached. Sweat began to bead on Blueblood’s forehead. Sir Lighthoof and Bluebell, the junior cook’s assistant, looked nervous as well. Steadily, they inched their way forward.
“Thank you for coming,” Blueblood stammered with the best smile he could muster. “Please, have a seat.” He moved to hold the chair for Bluebell as she slid into place at the head of the table. Her eyes remained fixed on the royal guard hoping that he would come to her rescue at the first sign of trouble. Sir Lighthoof kept watch of Blueblood as he and the Prince each took to their respective chairs.
An awkward silence fell over the trio as the new arrivals sat perplexed, eager and waiting to hear the reason for their summons. The odd pairing of potatoes and carrots resting on their plates added to the general confusion.
Blueblood took a deep breath. “First, I want to say I’m sorry.” The hard part done, he felt some relief as he continued. “I've been asleep, but my eyes are open now. I’m sorry I didn't wake sooner. Can you both find it in your hearts to forgive me—especially you, Miss Bluebell?”
If ever there was a time where the word dumbfounded fit, this was it. Lighthoof and Bluebell couldn't believe what they had just heard. An apology from the Prince was like Twilight failing a test—it never happened. Amid their confusion, a slight nod of the head signaled their joint witness of the miracle.
Blueblood glanced down at the plates and pointed to the food. “Next, I made you lunch. I hope you like it—I dug it up and cooked it all myself.”
Bluebell couldn't contain herself any longer. “Like, from the ground?!” she screeched.
“Straight from the fields of Sweet Apple Acres, fresh this morning,” Blueblood beamed.
“But you never get your hooves dirty…” Bluebell was beside herself in the midst of a minor panic attack. “This is too much; I can’t take anymore. Who are you, and what have you done with Prince Blueblood?”
Blueblood drew back, cowering a bit from the assault. “I hope you like your dress. I paid extra to make sure it matched your coat.”
“You paid? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Bluebell fainted. Sir Lighthoof jumped to her side and kept her from slipping to the ground.
“Is that a yes?” Blueblood peered over the top of his hooves which had shot up in self-defense on instinct.
Shaking her head, she propped herself up on the arm of the chair. “Just… Give me a minute,” Bluebell huffed as she came around.
Sir Lighthoof gently stroked her mane. “It is a lovely color. Very fine work indeed.”
Following the shock and subsequent processing of the situation, Lighthoof returned to his seat. Bluebell wanted to know more. “How in the hay is this possible?”
Blueblood thought for a moment. He wanted to make sure he could verbalize what he felt in his heart. Looking Bluebell straight in the eyes, he answered, “It all boils down to this—I was a carrot that thought he was too good for the potato. I see now that I was wrong.”
Bluebell stared back in wonder. “I never thought I’d see the day.” Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and stabbed a potato from her plate. Holding out the bite, she waited for the Prince. Blueblood leaned forward and partook of her offering. The not-so-well-cooked potato crunched in his teeth, but he swallowed it anyway. Bluebell smiled. “How about you let me do the cooking next time?”
“How about you teach me how to cook?” Blueblood smiled back.
“How about I leave you two alone?” Sir Lighthoof stood up from the table and turned to walk away.
“Aren't you going to stay for lunch?” Blueblood inquired.
“Sorry, but I already ate—Your Majesty.” Sir Lighthoof bowed to the Prince and made to take his leave.
Blueblood shook his head. “No need to call me that—my friends call me Blue.”
Sir Lighthoof glanced back at the pair. “Works for me—Blue.” He smiled and trotted off toward the door leaving the couple to themselves.
Blueblood called out to the departing guard, “Spread the word. I want the whole castle to join us for lunch from now on. Everypony deserves to be treated like royalty!”
Sir Lighthoof just shook his head as he left the dining hall. The stallions back in the barracks were never going to believe him until they saw it with their own eyes.
Up on the balcony, Luna strode up next to Celestia and yawned. “Art thou going to restore our nephew’s magic now?”
“It can probably wait for later.” Celestia peered down at the happy couple now laughing and daring each other to eat another bite of the ill-prepared meal. “I wouldn't want to interrupt them right now.”
“Then tell me this, why must you make a point of turning the black ink, gold? Why not silver?”
“That’s just silly, sister. Who’s ever heard of the Royal Silver Rules ?” Celestia grinned and patted Luna on the head. “And, just so we’re clear, he’s our fourth cousin, fifty-two times removed.”
“I know. Princess Twilight keeps reminding me. Couldn't we change that by royal decree?”
“I don’t think the Royal Family Tree would survive another decree like that, dear sister.” Celestia reached down and rubbed her growling stomach. “I’m hungry. What do you say we go get something to eat?”
“As long as it’s not carrots—the royal cook was serving them for every meal, so I had to banish the little orange beasts from the kitchen last week.”
“Agreed,” Celestia replied. “We may need to do the same thing with the potatoes now too.”
Back on a farm in Ponyville, the words Treat others like you want to be treated burst into flame and consumed the royal instructions.
