Chapter 1: Start of a strike & royal problems
“I gotta say, Starlight, yer bucking is pretty good,” Applejack said as she trotted from her apple trees and through her farm’s field. The cowpony was carrying a bucket – filled to the brim with apples – on her back. “Maybe we should check and make sure ya ain’t a distant Apple.”
“Maybe,” Starlight Glimmer said with a bashful smile, trotting beside Applejack with a matching bucket of apples on her back, “but I bet a lot of unicorns can buck apple trees as well as me.”
“I wouldn’t sell yourself short. I don’t know if Twilight could have done so well when she was still a unicorn.” Applejack chuckled heartily to herself. “I still remember when she tried to pull a snowplow during her first Winter Wrap Up, but she couldn’t budge it an inch. She even had to cast some spell to move it.”
“It must have been bad if she used magic...even though she told me not to rely on spells to solve my problems…” Starlight frowned. A budding spark of anger crackled in her eyes. “Over and over again...and yet she did.”
“Well, she really made a mess of things with her harebrained spell. Heh heh, ya should have seen what she did the time she was ‘tardy’.”
The frown on Starlight’s lips brightened to its former cheerful smile. “It couldn’t be as bad as when I...gave you all a magical ‘hangover’ three weeks ago.”
“Or steal Cutie Marks to make everypony the ‘same’, or try to change the past,” Applejack pointed out more sternly. Her smile stiffened into a hard, nonsense frown.
“Y-yeah, that too.” The reformed-ish unicorn shrank away, a sheepish grin curling on her lips.
“At least you now know that even if we have different Cutie Marks, we’re the same at our cores. We’re all ponies.”
“Hee hee, true. We are the same in that regard.”
“We sure are.”
In the grazing fields, one of two cows, Bov-let, disapprovingly shook her head as the pair listened in on Applejack’s and Starlight’s conversation.
“Moo-ine, did you hear that?”
“Yep,” Moo-ine answered. She took a bite from some grass and chewed it as she spoke, “How dare Applejack talk about everypony being ‘the same’, yet her family is cheap with the bits they pay us weekly?!”
Bov-let huffed, glaring at the oblivious Applejack. “Maybe it’s because we aren’t ponies.”
“You know what? We should demand a big raise. If they don’t give it, we could go on strike!”
Bov-let smirked. “Good idea, and I bet the other cows will be on board. Either the Apple family pays up, or they’ll have to drink pony milk if they want milk.”
Two hours later...
As Applejack strolled through her field, Bov-let called out, “Hey, Applejack.”
“Hey.” Applejack trotted to Bov-let and Moo-ine. “Is somethin’ wrong?”
“Moo-ine and I were thinking that we should get a raise. We’re stuck here, and we cows provide you a lot of milk. Given all that, we don’t think the five hundred bits a week we each get is fair.”
“We talked it over with the other cows, and we all agree,” Moo-ine said. “Some were even thinking it for months, but kept it to themselves.”
“Oh.” Applejack glanced toward her house. “I’ll talk to Granny Smith, but I think we can give–”
“One-thousand and two hundred bits a week,” Bov-let plainly stated.
Applejack’s eyes widened. “How much now?!”
“Well, as I said, we’re here all the time, and eating enough hay to produce the milk you need is not easy.” Bov-let scowled. “I bet if we were ponies you wouldn’t mind.”
“What the hay got into you?! It’s not because yer aren’t equal to ponies, but it’s just–”
Moo-ine’s sharp scowl deepened. “Then pay up!”
Applejack growled and pointed a hoof at Moo-ine. “At best, y’all might be able to get eight hundred bits, but no more than that!”
Moo-ine raised her head in defiance and turned away. “Then we’re going on strike! Get your milk somewhere else!”
“Fine!” Applejack stomped a hoof, sending mud splattering from the hoof’s slam. “Go ahead and have yer strike!”
“We will!” Bov-let stomped a hoof, matching the impact and mud-kicking of Applejack’s stomp. “We didn’t like it here anyway!”
One month later…
A group of cows marched in front of Sweet Apple Acres’s entrance, all wearing signs that flanked them. The signs either said “Strike!”, “Cows are ponies too” (they should have worded that one better), a picture of an apple in a cross-out symbol, or other anti-Apple phrases or pictures.
“Apple family is unfair! Fair pay for cows!”
Inside her living room, Applejack peeked out of a window and sighed dejectedly. “I can’t believe they’re still at it. I think the chickens somehow got into the act too, because they stopped layin’ eggs.”
“I know,” Apple Bloom said while whirling a hula hoop around her torso. And no, the filly wasn’t stricken with Cutie Pox again; she’s genuinely good at hula-hooping. “Can’t you just pay the cows what they want?”
Applejack shook her head. “No. That’d be pricier than not sellin’ any milk or eggs in the long run.”
“Eeyep,” Big Mac commented, reading a book called “Life of being the only male in a household.”
Rocking in a rocking chair, creaks cutting the air with each rock, Granny Smith said, “Besides, this ain’t my first rodeo of dealin’ with strikes.”
Apple Bloom stopped hula-hooping. “It’s not?”
“Nope. Before any of y’all were born, some of our cows went on one. Claimed we took too much milk and didn’t pay enough.”
“Really? What happened?” Applejack asked.
“After around two months of having to feed themselves after being so used to us feedin’ ‘em, the cows got sick of it and ended their strike. But, to show there were no hard feelings, we raised the bits we paid them by fifty.” She stopped rocking and gazed at a picture of Bright Mac hanging proudly on a wall. “That raise was yer pa’s idea. That boy was too sweet for his own good.”
“I see.” Applejack rubbed her cheek. “So we just gotta wait ‘em out?”
“Yep! I’m all for givin’ them a raise, but one-thousand and two hundred bits a week for each of them is too much!”
Apple Bloom said, “I hope everypony’s okay with not havin’ milk for a while.”
“At least it’s only our cows and chickens on strike,” Applejack peeked out her window again. “It’d be far worse if others join in and force our hooves.”
In the Crystal Empire...
Prince Shining Armor, captain of the Royal Guards, paced back and forth by the Crystal Palace’s doors. His typically lush light and dark-blue-streaked mane was rugged and spiky.
“Strike, strike, strike…” a voice seemed to chant from the nearby Crystal Heart. It sliced the power it emitted by half, dimming as a result.
Shining halted his pacing and swung his head to the heart.
The voices ceased. However, the relic pulsed an aura of tenseness that sent quivers down Shining’s back.
After a moment, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m more stressed than I thought.” He resumed his pacing and muttered, “I hope a store finally has milk in stock. It’s bad enough the Crystal Heart has been weakening over the last three weeks, but if we stay out of–”
A guard adorned in gold armor (too bad it – like those guards – was borderline useless against threats) ran up to Shining. “Captain, I have bad news. No store had milk.”
“Again?!” He released a disheartened moan. “This is bad. I can barely–”
“Hey, Prince Shining Armor! What’s going on with the stores’ lack of milk?!” a scowling female crystal pony asked.
He answered, “I-I’m confused about what’s going on as we–”
“I bet you and Princess Cadance are hogging it!” another crystal pony, a stallion, yelled as he pointed an accusatory hoof at Shining.
“Strike, strike, strike,” the Crystal Heart muttered again. Seriously. “Pay those cows, or I walk!”
The Prince stared at that heart. “Were you talking?”
“Yes, I am,” the aggressive stallion answered, “and you are keeping all the milk to yourself and Princess Cadance, aren’t you?!”
“N-no! This isn’t like that cheese...shortage.” Shining backed away. “Back then, Cadance was going through a ph–”
“A likely story!” Another nearby mare blew a blow horn. A swarm of scowling crystal ponies flocked in front of Shining Armor and his guard in lines.
“Okay, long story short: they hoarded the milk, just like they did cheese four months ago!” The mare holding the blow horn shouted. “Let’s go with plan ‘C’ and charge in!”
The Captain and his guard gulped. They darted inside the castle, slammed shut its door, and Shining cast a massive magical barrier over his suddenly under siege palace.
Outside, ponies threw themselves – and fellow ponies – at the rose-colored shield and bounced off it.
Boy, that escalated quickly. It ruined this story’s already suspect pacing.
“Uh, if I may be so bold, couldn’t you have explained to them that you have nothing to do with this shortage?”
His horn still glowing, Shining answered, “I tried, and didn’t you see how it went? Crystal ponies are extremely irrational, even brutal, when they think you’re hiding stuff from them. It’s made worse still when they are thirsty for milk.”
“Understood. But what should we–”
A feminine, yet monstrous roar boomed through the castle.
Shining Armor’s ears wilted to lay across his head. “Oh no. Cadance is losing patience for milk too. Her roars are growing louder and more frequent.”
“Should I send somepony to another town and see if any of their stores have milk in stock? I...*gulp*...don’t have ‘death by grumpy but benevolent alicorns’ covered on my life insurance. It only covers for evil ones.”
“I’m starting to wish mine did, but sending somepony to search for milk outside the city is a great idea. Tell whoever goes to duck out the palace’s second or third secret door.”
“Okay. I’ll find somepony at once.” The guard hurried down a hallway.
Now alone, Shining planted his hooves, gritted his teeth, and battled to maintain his barrier against the outside mob’s relentless impacts. However, thinking about the vastly more frightening albeit drop-dead gorgeous alicorn boding in their bedroom, Shining said to himself, “Mom warned me about alicorns, yet I still married one. I hope whoever marries Twily has better luck when she’s in bad moods.”
In Canterlot Castle…
Two guards covered in gold armor, like the Crystal Empire’s guards were, marched into the castle’s throne room.
One of them said, “Princess Celestia, we’re sorry, but the store is sold out again. Their main supplier of milk still hasn’t been able to sell them any.”
Celestia’s ears drooped, and she slumped forward. “Did they at least have any idea when they might receive some?”
The second guard answered, “Sadly, they don’t, and they are facing other problems too, such as their cash registers ceasing to operate. Some of their employees even thought one said ‘strike, strike, strike,’ or ‘pay those cows’, though I’m sure it was in their minds.”
“I see.” Celestia gazed toward a banner of Princess Luna hanging from the ceiling. “I hate to ask, but would you mind informing my sister of the...news?”
“T-tell Princess Luna?” A guard crept back. “Uh, I don’t think I should bother her–”
The other guard whirled himself and his partner around to face the other direction, and whispered. “Are you out of your mind? We can’t refuse a request from Celestia! She’s kind, but she’s still Princess Celestia!”
“I know, but I don’t want to go anywhere near Luna! You know the mood she’s in!”
“I understand, but as your superior, I order you to go.” He wrapped a foreleg around his subordinate’s neck. “Think of it this way, Cloudy: this is your chance to move up in the ranks. Plus, unlike ponies living in the Crystal Empire, your life insurance covers death by any alicorn.”
Droplets of sweat rolled down Cloudy’s forehead, yet he managed to nod affirmatively. “As you command. On days like these, I wish I had listened to my father and became a writer.”
The pair turned back to their Princess, and Cloudy said, “Okay, I will tell Princess Luna.”
After his potentially last words, Cloudy dawdled out the throne room.
“WHAT?!” a female voice bellowed. A *boom!* from the voice’s source fired tremors throughout the castle.
Celestia winced. “Why didn’t I think to cast a protection spell on him, just in case?”
Cloudy wobbled back into the throne room, his mane, coat, and armor singed. “Princess Luna will need another venting doll. The last one didn’t withstand her...frustration.” His knees buckled, and he collapsed with a thud. “If I were a foot closer to it, my wife would be a rich mare now.”
Princess Luna stomped inside and to Celestia, glaring her in the eyes. She bore an intense scowl, on par with Nightmare Moon’s.
Celestia tittered and slowly waved a greeting hoof. “Um, hello, Lu–”
“Celestia, this is ridiculous! I haven’t had any milk to go along with my cookies in ages!”
“It’s only been two weeks since–”
“Well, it feels like ages! Ugh!” Luna stormed out, mumbling under her breath. Guards in hallways jumped out of the volatile alicorn’s way and stood erect with submissive grins.
“Should we prepare the next doll for you to enchant with an ultra-durability spell?” The (for now) unharmed guard asked.
“Yes, and bring me five extra ones. I have a hunch Luna will ‘wear out’ the next one before the week is over.”
A new guard trotted into the throne room. “Princess Celestia, I have bad news and worse news.”
“As if we needed either.” Celestia moaned. She composed herself and said, “Let’s begin with the bad news.”
“Our ovens stopped turning on, and we can’t figure out why.”
Celestia facehoofed. “When it rains, it pours. Now I can’t even eat my usual five cakes as my stress relief.” ‘And without my cakes, I don’t know if I can take another week of Luna’s complaining!'
*Boom!*
Another alicorn-triggered Equusquake rocked the palace.
“Oh, dear. Luna is going to bring down the castle at this rate. I shouldn’t run to–I mean, request for Twilight to fix something like this.” Celestia stared upward pensively and lightly tapped her cheek. “I believe our stores receive most of their milk from the Apple family, so I will pay them a visit. Perhaps I can–”
*Boom!*
After the third equusquake ended, Celestia gulped. “B-before I leave, I should cast protection spells on all of you as a safeguard. Oh, before I forget, what is the worst news?”
“Princess Blueblood wants his own area of Equestria to rule, again,” he answered with a hint of annoyance in his tone.
The mare moaned. “Not this again...wait, you mean, ‘Prince Blueblood’?”
“I know what I said,” the guard said bluntly. His eyes enlarged as if he was suddenly aware of whom he was speaking to. “Uh, with all due respect to you and the other princesses.”
“It’s okay, and you can tell ‘Princess’ Blueblood that I will consider it,” Celestia said, giving an understanding smile. She couldn’t admit she had similar thoughts about Blueblood’s at times divaish whining, even if “diva” isn’t a word in Equestria. “At any rate, after I cast the protection spells, I will hurry to Ponyville.”
Hoping that her message would persuade her nephew to stop pestering her for the moment, and be happy she granted him his prince status, Celestia cast her protection spells and departed Canterlot.
How about that? Even if it weren’t due to a villain, Princess Celestia might save the day herself this time!
Author's Note
It looks like Twilight might get to sit this one out. Princess Celestia is aiming to fix this mess herself!
But will she?
Chapter 2: Records and long overdo payments
In Ponyville...
At Sweet Apple Acres, a frowning Applejack ran into her house through her front door.
Knitting in her rocking chair, Granny Smith asked, “Back already? Didn’t ya go to buck some apple trees?”
“I was about to, but our apples have stopped growing!”
The elder earth pony’s eyes bulged. “They what?!”
“It’s as I said: they stopped growing! They look like they did about a month ago, so none are ripe!”
“That’s impossible! I’m gonna take a gander at ‘em.” Granny Smith hurried out the door. Five minutes later, she returned, her eyes even larger than before.
“Yer right! I thought somethin’ was fishy when I looked at them from afar the other day, but I thought my old eyes were playin’ tricks on me!”
“If that’s not enough, I would have sworn the trees were sayin’ ‘strike’ or ‘pay those cows’!”
“The trees were talking? That strike must be messing with yer head somethin’ fierce.” Smith rubbed her chin. “Maybe Twilight will have an idea on why the apples aren’t ripenin’? She may not be an Apple, but she’s the smartest pony I ever met.”
Applejack nodded. “Okay. I’ll track her down, and a walk might clear my head. She’s probably readin’ books in her castle if I know her.”
In Princess Twilight Sparkle’s castle…
Princess Twilight balanced herself vertically on her forehooves in her library, fighting weak teeters from her body. An upside-down timer and an upright recorder sat on a table; the recorder’s lens pointed in her direction.
You thought she’d be reading books like Applejack assumed, didn’t you?
“Hehe, I almost can’t believe I will soon be in the Solar Book of Equestrian Records. Finally, after eight failed attempts, I’m about to break the record of six hours and twenty-two minutes. It feels as if the last minute has lasted for three minutes, but it must just be me.”
“Strike, strike, strike,” a voice from the timer somehow whispered.
“Did I hear something? No, focus, Twilight, you have to–”
One of the library’s double doors flew open in light-blue magic. Rarity barged inside, stress streaking from her widened reddened eyes.
“Twilight, Twilight!”
“Whoa!” Twilight’s forelegs buckled. She tumbled onto her stomach and grunted on impact.
The stress in the record-ruiner’s eyes waned. “Um, am I interrupting something?”
“Rarity! I was minutes away from breaking the alicorn record for the longest time standing on forehooves! Now I have to start all over again!” The record seeker groaned. She massaged her temples to regain her bearings for being right-side-up again, then pushed herself up to stand on four legs. ”Anyway, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry for ruining your record-breaking attempt, but my sewing machine won’t power on! I could have even sworn it was speaking, and it made me faint in earnest on my fainting couch!”
Twilight puzzlingly scratched her head. “Uh, Rarity? I’m sorry about your sewing machine, but why did you come to me? I’m a princess that specializes in friendship, not a repairmare!”
Rarity sat on her haunches and fidgeted her forehooves. “That’s because I am kind of out of options. Real repairmares can’t find the problem and are swarmed with ponies coming to them for help anyway. However, you are not just a princess, but an alicorn, so maybe you could work your magic, no pun intended?” Rarity tittered timidly.
‘Sometimes I feel like my friends think I'm Ms. Fix-everything,’ Twilight thought. Unfortunately, this comes with the territory of being a trustworthy mage, so she said out loud, “Fine, I’ll see what I can do. I just hope Starlight won’t call me a hypocrite if she sees it.”
Applejack and Pinkie Pie sprinted through the open door, both with frowns.
“Twilight! Yer not gonna believe this, but the apples from my apple trees ain’t ripenin’!”
“Not ripening? Are the trees healthy?”
“Yep! The trees themselves seem fine, but it’s like what makes the apples ripen is just not workin’! I even thought I heard the trees talking about payin’ my cows!”
Twilight stepped forward as she stared downward, pondering the bizarre situation, though she is a veteran in dealing with them. “Odd, and there’s no way trees can talk.” She lifted her head and faced Pinkie. “Did something of yours stop working too, Pinkie?”
“No! I’m upset because the plans I made for Mr. Cake’s 68th birthday are what should be for his 67th birthday! I will have to go through birthdays 60-70 to sort everything out!”
Like Pinkie had prompted her to do in the past, Twilight audibly blinked twice. Then, blinking over, she stared toward Applejack. “Is that how I look when I stress out over my schedules or checklists?”
“Yep. You should be glad Spike never went on strike...yet.”
A spike of fear, pun intended, gripped Twilight’s heart at the mere idea of Applejack’s words coming to fruition. “Applejack, please don’t talk like that when Spike’s around.” She took a deep, composing breath. “At least Pinkie’s not here because of something not working.”
“Oh, I am. The Cakes’ oven stopped turning on for them, but it does for me,” Pinkie said nonchalantly. “We have no clue why, but the Cakes wanted me to ask you for help. I also don’t know why they can suddenly hear it talking; I thought only I could hear ‘ovey’ talk.”
Rainbow flew through the still-open door. Spike ran with her.
“Twilight, we got big trouble!” Rainbow shouted.
“Now what? Something isn’t working for you either?”
“Kinda. The pegasi can’t move any clouds to give Ponyville the rain it needs, and I almost thought they said something about a strike. But that’s small compared to what else is happening!”
“What is it?” Twilight asked.
“Fluttershy,” Spike answered. “Her power to talk to animals has been weakening for the last few weeks, and now she can’t do it at all. That, on top of not being able to drink her daily cup of milk, well...she’s not taking it well.”
Rarity gasped and laid a worried hoof on a cheek. “Oh no. Is she depressed or crying?”
“Nope, she is not crying out there.” Rainbow weakly grimaced. “You all better come see it, or–”
*Crash!*
Spike and the ponies, save for Rainbow, yelped and jumped with the mares' ears up in alarm.
Applejack asked, “What was that?!”
Rainbow answered, “Fluttershy.”
“Let’s hurry and see what’s happening out there!” Twilight ordered.
The group of six sped out of the castle and went deeper into Ponyville. This day was becoming one to remember, or one they’d rather forget.
Outside, Twilight and her friends’ mouths dropped at the sight before them.
Two houses lay on their sides, their windows shattered.
*Roar!*
A third house got ripped from its foundation, tossed into the air, and then crashed down with a booming thud and shake of the ground. What wrecked the houses and bellowed as it did?
A pink-maned yellow pegasus.
“Has Fluttershy lost her marbles?!” Applejack asked.
“I knew Fluttershy is frighteningly strong when she is angry, but not this strong!” Rarity exclaimed. “Not even Bulk Biceps or Pinkie at her most random can upend houses with their bare hooves!”
“Would one of you like to take my horn, wings, magic, and Princess of Friendship title for today? I didn’t sign up for this!”
“Not on your life, Twi.” Rainbow motioned to the seething, growling Fluttershy. “At least Fluttershy’s making sure she only throws empty houses for her...venting.”
*Roar!*
*Crash!*
Spike flinched from Fluttershy’s latest house carnage. “Uh, Twi, you better cast a protection spell or something before she accidentally crushes somepony.”
The still-Princess of Friendship’s horn glowed. The nearby area glowed in a magenta light.
“Okay, that should prevent injuries caused by flying houses, but how can we stop Fluttershy?” Twilight paced back and forth. “This is serious, so I could ask Starlight to take her Cutie Mark andreturn it right away. It might act akin to a reset button and restore Fluttershy’s ability to communicate with animals.” Twilight mulled over the idea a little more...and facehoofed. That was an awful idea! “No, what was I thinking? If it fails and enrages Fluttershy enough to forget she’s a kind pony, she might maim or even kill Starlight!”
“We can’t run to Starlight anyway,” Rainbow said. “When she saw Fluttershy flip her first house, she tried to talk her down.”
Spike chimed in, “But when she caught the look in Fluttershy’s eyes, Starlight became pale, said, ‘Understandable, have a nice day,’ and fled to the Crystal Empire while dragging Trixie behind her.”
Rarity’s mouth widened, and she pointed upward. “Everypony, are my eyes deceiving me, or can you see her flying up there too?”
The remaining ponies and dragon gazed to the sky; their mouths matched Rarity’s. A cross-eyed grey pegasus flew in graceful loops and barrel rolls through the air.
Spike said, “Since her flying already doesn't work sometimes, I guess it does during times it otherwise wouldn’t.”
“Spike, I’m not even going to try to explain why that makes no sense. But more importantly, I feel that there is something linking everything to what’s going wrong, or right, but what?”
“Hmm.” Spike snapped his claws. “This is crazy, but those trees and other stuff like clouds said something about ‘strike’ right? Could it have something to do with Applejack’s cows having a strike?”
“What?!” Twilight’s pupils collapsed from surprise. “Trees aren’t sentient, and ovens, sewing machines, and clouds aren’t even alive! How could they talk, let alone join the strike, and why would they anyway?!”
“As I said, it’s crazy, but what else could it be? It can’t be a prank from Discord, because he’ll never do anything to get Fluttershy so mad. She’s the only thing he’s scared of.”
Applejack snickered. “Yeah, she’s got him whipped.”
Pinkie said, “And maybe Spike’s right about the strike being the reason. Isn’t there a famous saying that goes, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth?’”
Twilight raised her eyes and clawed her mind for that saying. “Uh...I don’t think there is such an expression.”
“Shame. I thought it was used somewhere.”
“But even if it did, this is impossible!” Twilight surveyed her surroundings; Fluttershy stomped from house to house, peeking in their windows as she did. “There must be something else going on!”
“And besides, my cows want too many bits!”
“Greetings,” a voice spoke from behind. The friends turned to the new voice.
“Princess Celestia? What are you doing here?” Twilight asked. “N-not that we mind–”
“Did you all say everything that’s going wrong and stores not having milk might be fixed by paying Applejack’s cows whatever bits they are demanding?”
“Yes,” Applejack answered, “but I–”
Celestia pointed at herself. “If that is the issue, I will pay them.”
A baffled frown crept on Applejack’s lips. “Really? Not that I’m not grateful, but why are you offering this?”
“Because without milk with her cookies, Luna has never been so grumpy without becoming Nightmare Moon! I might banish myself to the sun if I have to endure it for too much longer, and our castle isn’t faring much better!”
“Oh. In that case, we can–”
“Go to your farm and discuss your cows’ terms? Yes, let’s go!”
Princess Celestia levitated Applejack with her magic and swept the earth pony to her farm.
Near Sweet Apple Acres’ barn...
“Okay, I heard you two and your friends are on strike, so I will make you a deal: tell me how many bits you want a week, and if you end your strike, I will pay you myself.”
Bov-let and Moo-ine stared at each other. After the moment of silence, they looked to Celestia and Bov-let said, “Then we want two-thousand bits a week, each.”
“Two thousand?” Moo-ine leaned to Bov-let and whispered, “We only asked for–”
“Terms accepted!” Celestia floated Applejack to Bov-let. “Applejack, start milking! I’ll buy the first bottle so Luna can have her milk!”
Applejack looked down to Bov-let’s udders. “Uh...I would, but without a bucket–”
A white blur dropped a bucket beside Applejack. A gust of wind from it followed.
“There you go,” the former white blur said with a massive, almost unnatural grin. “Now you can milk.”
Not wanting to keep her ruler waiting any longer, both from respect and from fear of what might transpire if she did, Applejack milked as fast as ponyly as possible.
Don’t ask how she did it with hooves.
The moment the first bottle of milk was ready, Celestia paid three times its regular price and flew away with it, cackling as she went.
I pity the fool who would dare get in that alicorn’s way before she could return to Canterlot.
Later on, a thought emerged into Applejack’s mind. There was something she should have done a long time ago. She wasn’t the only one who had contemplated it.
Five days later, in Canterlot…
Pinkie, Applejack, Rainbow, Fluttershy, and Rarity stood in Canterlot Castle’s throne room. Princess Celestia was back on her throne; Princess Luna stood beside her, chowing on chocolate chip cookies, and she levitated a cup of cold, creamy milk in her magic.
“Did you say you each want fifteen thousand bits a week?!” Celestia asked.
“Yes.” Rarity politely bowed.
“My cows’ strike got us thinkin’. We risked our necks against one villain after another, so we want to be paid weekly to remain Equestria’s elite defenders.”
“I know, and I can never thank you enough for–”
Pinkie said, “You can thank us with fifteen thousand bits a week.”
“Actually, make that twenty thousand,” Rarity said, her inner businessmare showing. “You said you couldn’t thank us enough.”
Celestia waved her forehooves from side to side. “T-that was just an expression! I really am thankful, but if I pay you each fifteen thousand bits a week, it’ll be seventy-five thousand total for the week, or one-hundred thousand if I pay twenty thousand!”
Rainbow said, “Given we have Equestria’s most dangerous job, I think paying us even twenty thousand bits a week is a bargain.”
“But, well…” The alicorn sighed. The defenders had her right where they wanted her. “Just let me think it over for a bit, okay? You can stay as I do, and why didn’t Twilight come? Did she not want more bits?”
“Pinkie’s ‘Pinkie Sense’ told her that we didn’t need to tell Twilight we were comin’. Plus, from what I heard, she’s gotta deal with somethin’ else anyway.”
In Twilight’s castle...
“I said it already, but I’m glad things are back to normal,” Spike said, strolling down the castle’s numerous hallways; Twilight trotted beside him. “From Shining Armor’s letter, Cadance is scarier than villains when she doesn’t have milk for too long.”
“I still can’t believe that mess was all due to the cows’ strike. Trees and appliances can’t feel or think,and I never heard of a Cutie Mark rebelling!”
Spike shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? Maybe there are some things about Equestria we don’t know.”
“I guess.”
“You’re going to do some research to find out, aren’t you?” Spike asked with a knowing smirk.
“You know me well. But, if I don’t find anything in a couple of days, I’ll let it go...maybe.”
“Fair enough.” Spike stopped walking, coaxing Twilight to pause with him. “Oh, that reminds me: what those cows did really made me think. I love helping you out, but for how much I do every day, I think my allowance should be bigger.”
“You have a good point, and I was thinking of giving you a larger one anyway.”
“Great!”
“Now, let’s see...you currently get two hundred bits a week, so I’ll give–”
“How about nine thousand bits a week? No, make that nine thousand and ten.”
“Nine thousand and ten? I suppose that’s–” Twilight pupils constricted “–wait, WHAT?! Over nine thousand, and per week?!”
Spike nodded. “Yep. Actually, it can just be eight-thousand.”
Saying that Spike’s price was unexpected would be a colossal understatement. Twilight gawked at him in awkward silence. A few seconds later, her pupils ballooned to their standard size, and a curl crawled on her lips. “Hehe, you almost had me there.”
Spike’s gaze darkened. “Twilight Sparkle, I’m not kidding. Either you raise my allowance to eight-thousand bits a week, or I’m going on strike, form a union with Starlight, and you’ll have to do everything I do: cook, clean, take your notes–”
Twilight tilted her head while raising an eyebrow. “Uh, Starlight’s my student, and a union between you would only consist of you two anyway.” She smiled and continued, “Still, while eight-thousand bits a week is ridiculous, you do deserve a big raise, so how about I increase your allowance to a more fair four-hundred bits a week? I’ll even add five more gems to the thirty a week you get now!”
Spike crossed his arms. “No deal, and for that, now I do want nine-thousand bits a week!”
Twilight glowered down at Spike. “Well, I’m sorry, but that’s way too–”
“You. Everything. That I do.”
With thoughts drilling into her mind of her having to perform the numerous chores Spike shouldered daily, in addition to her own chores and princess duties, Twilight’s face scrunched. She blew a hard sigh and asked, “Do you want your new nine-thousand-bit allowance to be weekly or bi-weekly as eighteen-thousand bits?”
“I’ll take the nine-thousand bits a week choice,” a triumphant smiling Spike answered.
“Okay. But seriously, while I truly appreciate all you do for me, that is WAY too unreasonable an allowance! You should be ashamed of yourself for hustling me like that! I hatched you!”
“If you ask me, you should have more bits yourself.”
“Well, thanks to your ‘raise’, I will have far fewer now.”
“No, no, think about it. You and the girls saved Equestria a bunch of times, and Princess Celestia counts on you the most.” A supportive smile curled on the dragon’s face. “You’re also one of the strongest, greatest ponies ever and the Princess of Friendship! You should be paid far more bits than you are now!”
Twilight considered Spike’s words, her frustration at him melting away. “Maybe, but I’m not a pony that needs a large number of bits to be happy.”
“Still, with more bits, you could upgrade the castle to have a bigger library, and you just might attract a certain orange pegasus’s attention.” The edges of Spike’s lips further rose into a sly smirk. “You know the one: the pony version of that guy you drooled all over in the humans’ world?”
One hour later, in Canterlot Castle’s throne room, again...
“WHAT?!”
Twilight, surrounded by her friends, nodded and smiled sheepishly.
Celestia inhaled intensely and blew some of her shock out. “L-let me make sure I heard correctly. Twilight, you want me to pay you fifty thousand bits a week, and give Spike a twenty-five thousand bit allowance in your place?! Otherwise, you will go on strike?!”
“S-sorry, Princess Celestia,” Twilight answered meekly with her head down, “but I have...overachieved. On the bright side, Starlight hasn’t done anything to deserve being paid so much...yet. Hehe?”
“You raise a fair point.” Luna, her mouth now covered with milk and cookie crumbs, casually sipped her cup of milk and patted her milk-and-cookie-filled belly. “But back in the old days, I used to put an end to strikes and unions with force. Now I can’t do that without turning into Nightmare Moon, but at least I have milk with my cookies again.”
“It looks like I will have to cut down on the cakes from now on.” Celestia closed her eyes and hung her head in defeat. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a good, generous ruler. Being a greedy, tax-raising happy princess would be easier on my wallet.”
Author's Note
Update: After Starlight Glimmer had led a very unlikely team to save her friends from the changelings, she marched to Princess Celestia and requested to be paid 5,000 bits per week. She thought she would end up saving Equestria again.
However, during their talks, Celestia learned about Starlight's time-travel temper tantrum.
Afterward, Starlight was more than content with paying Celestia 1,000 bits a week for the next year, allowing Celestia to have just enough bits to eat her fill of cakes again.
