The Prince and the Workhorse

by fellstorm

Rating: teen
Tags: Big Macintosh, Prince Blueblood, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Sex, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Original Character, Comedy
Length: 82701

Prince Blueblood and Big McIntosh swap bodies to pursue their respective romantic interests

Prince Blueblood is banned from frolicking within the city limits of Canterlot. In an act of defiance, he strikes out to make a name for himself in Ponyville. Meanwhile, a lovelorn Big Macintosh pines for Twilight Sparkle, who only sees him as a big, dumb farmpony. Worlds collide when, with the help of some stolen Zebra magic, the poor, unfortunate souls switch bodies.
Now, Blueblood runs amok through the mares of Ponyville while Big Macintosh learns that being Twilight's Prince Charming is harder than it looks.The sleepy town of Ponyville is in for a rude awakening!

Published 2012-02-01 06:18:51 UTC
Last updated 2012-05-21 20:12:20 UTC

Chapter I

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part I

Prince Blueblood awoke as he did every day: with the rays of the noonday sun shining between the curtains of his luxurious canopy bed, lying next to an exhausted mare still flecked with the telltale foam of the previous evening’s exhilarations.

As usual, he couldn’t remember her name. Not that her name was important in the least, but it was bad form to forget and, as a prince, he had a certain noblesse oblige to the lower classes. Moreover, his confounded aunt had made it clear that if just one more mare created an embarrassing scene because of something insensitive he did (“That only happened four times!”) his sleepover privileges would be revoked permanently. In all fairness to his aunt, the last scene he caused had nearly demolished the Canterlot Ballroom during the height of the Grand Galloping Gala.

What what what was her name? She was sleeping with her back to him, so he didn’t even have her face to jog his memory. Gingerly, he stood up on his forelegs to try to look past the tangle of her mane, but the shift in weight disturbed the mare’s slumber and he retreated back to his side of the bed, feigning sleep for several seconds until he was satisfied that his guest was still snoozing.

He examined the back of her... Stripeymane? Creamed Corn? Redhair Browncoat? EarthPony Idontcare? No, no, no. That wasn’t helping! He needed some better clue and briefly wished that his aunt had approved the passage of the law he’d penned that would make it mandatory for mares to wear some sort of satchel that, at a minimum, would contain beauty products (for restoring one’s appearance after a night at a stranger’s house) and some form of identification.

Idea! Most ponies’ names were eerily coincidental with their cutie marks. Maybe hers would provide a clue! He ducked under the covers and burrowed, mole style, over to the sleeping stranger. With delicate caution, he hoisted up the covers concealing his Mystery Mare’s flank. Aaaaand her name was…

…

Some sort of blurry… ampersand? He squinted at her flank and twisted his head to try and see it right way up, but, at that moment, the mare stretched and turned over, knocking him in the chest with her hooves.

Blueblood yelped and reared reflexively, losing his balance in the process and falling backwards out of the bed. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds while he waited for the ringing in his ears to dissipate. The Tan Mare Who Will Still Remain Nameless poked her head out over the side of the bed, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, your highness!” she giggled “What were you doing under there at my flank? Are you ready to get frisky again already?”

She reached down with her forehooves and tickled his chest.

“Ah hahahaha! Oh! Stop! Stop!” Blueblood choked his pleas out between laughs.

“Beg me, beg me!” she teased, still tickling.

“Ah! N-n-no! A prince never behehehehehegs! Hee!”

“I won’t stop until you beg!”

“Ahahaha! No! Stop! I comahahahahaaaand you!”

“Ask nicely!”

“Plehehehase!”

“Please who?”

“Please… hahaha aaah! Aaaampersand!?”

The tickling stopped.

“What?”

“Ampersand?”

“Ampersand?” the Tan Pony cocked an incredulous eyebrow.

“No…” Blueblood’s eyes darted around quickly, searching for an escape route.

“What’s my name?” she asked, poking her muzzle into his.

“Umm…”

***

“Stop her, Tombs!” Blueblood yelled.

Ampersand barreled right through the tray of breakfast the mustachioed valet had been carrying as she galloped out of the room.

“My name is Amber Sands!” she huffed.

Whatever.

Blueblood galloped after her, with Tombs close behind.

“We have to stop her and calm her down before my aunt sees her!” he panted.

“Very good, Sire.” Tombs replied. Though the Prince was at full gallop, Tombs somehow managed to keep up without giving the appearance of doing more than a quick trot.

Amber hurled down the vast carpeted halls of the palace at breakneck speed, startling servants and courtiers alike in her blind flight. Blueblood nimbly leapt a cowering unicorn maid only to completely demolish her cartful of cleaning supplies.

“I’ll have somepony clean that up later!” he called back, shaking splinters and toilet paper out of his blonde locks before putting on an extra burst of speed.

Nearly caught her!

Amber Sands suddenly zagged to the right and took off down an elegant marble corridor that was all too familiar to Blueblood. He dug in his hooves and skidded to a stop, but his momentum carried him ten feet past the turn and bunched up the carpet ahead of him like an accordion.

“She’s headed for the Royal Quarters, Tombs! We have to stop her!”

Blueblood got up to full gallop again, with Tombs trotting at his heels.

***

“I don’t see why we can’t just keep the board in my room, Celestia.” groaned Princess Luna, Mare of the Night and Empress of the Moon and Stars.

“No! I told you it has to stay in neutral territory. I don’t trust you after last time.” replied Princess Celestia the Lightbringer, Lady of the Dawn and Mistress of Harmony.

“We’ve been over this, I don’t know how that cannon got into Kamchatka! It was an accident!”

“Well, maybe there will be fewer ‘accidents’ in the Royal Study.”

“Harumph.”

The two royal alicorns crossed the broad hall with grace and care. Between them was suspended a game board with dozens of pieces carefully balanced on top. The princesses moved slowly so as not to disturb the delicate placement of their armies.

***

“There she goes, Tombs!” Shouted Blueblood between hoofbeats. His heart was pounding and a white froth glistened on his meticulously groomed coat. How could this little mare keep up such a furious pace after everything they’d done last night? He must have be losing his touch. Marble statues and stained glass windows flew past in a colorful blur. Blueblood’s entire world focused on chasing that mare’s tail. No, he was too exhausted to appreciate the irony.

***

“I still can’t believe you kept this game preserved exactly as it was for a thousand years, Celestia.”

“I was devastated after your banishment, dear sister. I kept everything of yours preserved exactly as it was, but this… this was my most precious reminder of our last good time together. I remembered how we used to play together before… you know… before your… ‘episode.’”

Luna looked abashed for a moment before regaining her composure.

“ As long as I had it, I knew the good in you was still alive.” continued Celestia.

“That’s so sweet! It will mean a lot to me to finally finish it after all these centuries.”

“It will mean a lot to us.” Celestia smiled, misty tears welling up in her eyes.

A sudden commotion shattered the moment of sisterly bonding and Celestia and Luna both turned simultaneously, just in time to see a tiny, sand-colored mare charging like a bull up the hallway in their direction. She didn’t look like she was going to stop or slow down.

“LOOK OUT!” yelled Luna, her Royal Canterlot Voice echoed through the halls and blasted everypony’s eardrums.

The force of Luna’s cry got Amber Sand’s attention, but it was too late for her to change direction. Celestia and Luna raised the board up, missing the top of Amber’s mane by the breadth of a candy-colored hair. Amber tried to duck at the same second, tripping spectacularly over her own hooves and tumbling mane-over-tail into an heirloom bust of Princess Platinum, which teetered precariously on its pedestal.

The Princesses lowered the board again, examining the pieces. Everything appeared to be in its proper place. They breathed a sigh of relief.

Too soon.

A white and blonde freight train knocked both princesses to the ground and exploded the game board to smithereens. The thousand year-old cardboard couldn’t withstand the force of Blueblood’s impact; there was nothing left but tatters. Plastic army ponies scattered everywhere. Servants on their morning rounds would still stumble across the tiny figurines weeks later.

Meanwhile, Blueblood careened right into the dazed heap of Amber Sands and the bust of Princess Platinum. Time for Blueblood slowed to a crawl as he watched the heavy bust launch from its perch and sail backwards through the colossal stained glass window depicting Commander Hurricane’s victory over the Diamond Dogs in Two Fifty B.C.E.

A kaleidoscope of light danced in the air as the jagged shards of stained glass pelted the cringing prince and his one-night stand. When he finally opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. His auntie Celestia’s angel-white muzzle was inches from his face and the otherworldly violet of her eyes was tinged with red.

“Auntie, p-please, let me explain.” Blueblood started. Celestia silenced him with a wave of her hoof.

“Prince Blueblood Alfred William Platinum IV!”

“Yes, Auntie?”

“My idiot uncle, Blueblood the First, had an unnatural fondness for donkeys. The rest of the royal family looked the other way on his dalliances because we were reasonably sure he would never produce viable offspring. This was evidently not the case because a millennium and a half later his misbegotten progeny is still a colossal ASS!”

“B-but Auntie…”

“SILENCE!” Celestia drew a deep breath and extended her impressive wings.

Luna folded back her ears and covered them with her hooves. She knew what was coming.

Celestia almost never used the Royal Canterlot Voice, but when she did, it made Luna sound like the World “Shh” Champion. The force of her bellow shook Canterlot Mountain to its very foundations. Birds took flight for miles around and all the baby ponies in the Fillydelphia kindergarten were roused, crying, from their midday naps. Celestia’s decree rattled Blueblood’s bones and froze his blood.

“PRINCE BLUEBLOOD! FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO STUD WITH ANYPONY IN CANTERLOT!-”

“But Auntie!” Blueblood’s mouth made the words, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. His ears had gone numb. Amber Sands sobbed next to him, burying her head beneath her hooves.

“ON PAIN OF BANISHMENT!”

Blueblood bowed low to the ground and spoke. The words dropped from his lips with all the force of cotton swabs.

“As you command, your highness...”

***

Blueblood spent the rest of the day moping in his lavish apartments.

Cut off from all the mares in Canterlot!? Oh the shame! The ignominy!

Do you know how hard he had to have Tombs work to cancel all his appointments? He had foreleg candy booked out clear into the New Year! His poor valet was working to the bone contacting all of them and letting the poor things down. It was exhausting just to hear about it!

Blueblood dropped backwards onto his bed. He hadn’t felt this sorry for himself since his humiliation at the Grand Galloping Gala. His ears still hurt from Celestia’s chastisement and he ached all over from his impromptu gallop through the halls.

How could she say that about him? Descended from donkeys? What a horrible thing to say! Maybe his ears were a tad longer than average, but what did that prove? Could an “ass” have such a fine coat? Such a luxurious mane? Such an impressive horn? Celestia didn’t know what she was talking about… She’d only said those things to offend his royal sensibilities.

Still though…

And so Blueblood moped. He was so depressed that he dared something he’d never dared before: he took an inventory of his life.

All the fine trappings of his life of luxury seemed to mock him. Painful reminders that his entire family’s greatest accomplishment was and would forever be cousinhood to a pair of goddesses.

There, on the wall, was the shield borne by his great great great grandfather, Hemophilius II, during the Epic Dinner Party of Hastings. Its heraldry depicted a great golden sun on a white field. Beneath the sun was a tiny compass rose like the one on his flank, circled in red ink to make it more visible.

Over his bed hung a wall-sized Rembridl original painting of the Feast of Waterloo. In the center of the painting, Celestia reared like a majestic angel, the golden rays of the sun above her head shone down over the feast to the delight of the little painted ponies beneath. His grandfather, Rarified Genepool, was also featured in the painting: craning his neck to be seen from behind a large pumpkin off to one side of the feast.

He looked around at his medals and trophies, accumulated over years of gracing high society events and functions with his presence. Once, they were his pride and joy, but now they seemed like nothing more than insulting trinkets, condescensions to his peripheral relation to the greatest ponies who ever lived.

The thirty pound gold and mahogany trophy over his fireplace?

TO THE WORLD’S GREATEST NEPHEW, HAPPY 13th BIRTHDAY

LOVE,

AUNTIE CELESTIA

The fancy peaked hat with the gold piping and filigree on the brim that hung by his door?

Grand Admiral of the Sky Yacht Club

The framed certificate with the oversize blue ribbon fixed to it?”

PARTICIPANT

CHARMINGNESS

COMPETITION.

The PhD. from Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?

MANE STYLING AND COAT GROOMERY (Hon.)

He could go on…

No, he couldn’t! Not like this!

He was through living under Celestia’s roof, eating Celestia’s food and enjoying Celestia’s reflected glory! He would be his own pony!

But how? Wherever he went, he would always be Prince Blueblood, Nephew of the Ruler of the World.

Where could he go that nopony would know his name? What was the most backwater, down-home country-bumpkinest burg in all of Equestria?

Bridletown.

But, Prince Blueblood had never heard of that place, so he picked the only small town whose name he could remember.

“TOMBS!”

Tombs was already by his side.

“Sir?”

“Pack up my necessities. We’re going to Ponyville!”

END OF PART I

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter II

THE PRINCE AND THE WORKHORSE
PART II

DISCHORD 3
7 As the Princesses cowered in the cave, the Spirit of Harmony appeared to them in the form of a great, burning heart. The Spirit spake to the Royal Sisters and He said:
8 “I have seen the affliction of my little ponies and have come down to deliver them from the hands of Discord. 9 Take the Tiara from thy crest and the Golden Necklace from thy throat. With them, you will work my Wonders!”
10 The Sisters did so, and their trappings became blessed by the Spirit of Harmony and became Elements of Harmony.
And the Spirit of Harmony spake 11 “Now, spread thy wings and fly to your ponies. You will use the Elements of Harmony to cast Discord from my sight.”
12 And Luna spake:
“But, we are Unicorns, we have no wings!”
The Sprit of Harmony spake again “Spread thy wings!”
13 And the sisters looked and saw that they had wings, and Celestia wept, for she thought that she had been transformed into a Pegasus, but it was not so. 14 The sisters looked again and saw that they possessed both wings and horns. The Royal Sisters realized that this was a Miracle and they prostrated themselves to the Spirit of Harmony.
-The Official Biography of the Royal Sisters (Equestrian Standard Version)

Big Macintosh sighed and closed the book, doing his best not to ruffle the gilded edges with his broad hooves. Reading was difficult for him. He had to sound the hard words out loud.

When he was a young colt, he hadn’t been to much school. He’d become the stallion of the house at an early age. The orchard always needed work and Granny Smith couldn’t do it alone, so school had fallen by the wayside. When his younger sister, Applejack, was old enough she’d been able to help some and Macintosh had more time to attend classes at the local schoolhouse. It was hard. He was older than everypony and embarrassed to admit he couldn’t read or write. Discouraged by the taunting of the younger ponies, he decided that maybe school just wasn’t for him.

Then he met Cherilee. She was as beautiful as a fresh-picked apple. Her purple coat reminded him of the luscious, dewy grapes that grew in the Apple family vineyards and she wore her mane kinked like the exotic rock and roll showponies in the posters on his wall. She was exciting and electrifying. Big Mac fell hopelessly in love.

She wanted to be a teacher. Someday, she would teach at the schoolhouse.

“Ah wish you taught there now.” he said “I think it would be easy to learn if you was my teacher.”

“You, you’re still in school?”

Big Macintosh wished he could melt into the floor. He was sure Cherilee would laugh at him, but she didn’t. He told her his story, about the runaway tornado that had killed his parents and about his grandmother’s infirmity. The days spent on the farm, exercising his body but not his mind. Cherilee was touched, she would teach him to read. He spent long days in the orchards and long nights next to Cherilee, sounding out new words and plodding through books sentence by sentence.

Big Macintosh graduated from his basic education. In his class photo, he towered over the foals in his class like a mountain, but he was grinning from ear to ear all the same.

“Ah couldn’t have done it without you, Cherilee…”

“I only helped you along Big Mac. I knew you could do it. I’m just happy I could help a friend.”

“Cherilee, have you ever thought about being more than friends with me?…”

He put a hoof across her shoulder. Her muscles tensed and Big Mac realized something wasn’t right.

“Big Mac, you’re a wonderful colt…” she began.

It went downhill from there.

“… And so I’m saving myself for somepony special. You’re very dear to me, but you’re not the one.” Cherilee’s eyes welled up with tears “Please, please tell me you understand.”

“Eeyup.” Big Macintosh didn’t shed a single tear, but inside he thought he would drop dead on the spot.

Big Macintosh and Cherilee didn’t see each other much after that. Big Mac threw himself into his work and his family. He had too much to worry about on the farm to think about love. If maybe a young filly cast a flirtatious glance his way, he pretended he hadn’t seen and went right on working.

Then she arrived in Ponyville. She literally dropped out of the sky in a golden chariot. She was exotic, she was electrifying, she was purple. Her name was Twilight Sparkle and Big Macintosh fell hopelessly in love.

He picked Celestia’s Biography up in his mouth and walked it over to the sparse bookshelf. The narrow shelf held one other book, long overdue from the Ponyville library, and a lumpy doll with yarn hair and button eyes. The doll was hideous, but it was Twilight’s and so it was precious. The book was Atlas Bucked, checked out six months ago in the delusional hope that picking the thickest book in the library would impress her. She’d stamped it without comment, without even looking at him, and he’d just stood there looking like a stupid hayseed.

Big Mac slid the biography onto the shelf. The sun was getting high in the sky and he’d wasted enough time reading.

***

Big Mac had errands to run in town. He donned his yoke, hitched himself to the applecart, and set off at a quick trot for Ponyville. His baby sister Applebloom and her two friends were trying some new scheme today and he knew Applejack would be getting impatient for a break from minding them.

He arrived just after midday. The bright pastels of the fachwerk homes and shops made the town common look as if it were in perpetual Easter. Everypony greeted him as he walked up the cobbled main street and he gave them all courteous nods in response. He picked up the pace when he saw Applejack frantically chasing after Applebloom’s unicorn friend, Sweetie Belle, who was speeding around, hamster-wheel style, inside an out-of-control apple bushel. Applebloom was trying to juggle apples and Scootaloo, the stubby winged Pagasus foal, was pitching them to her.

Big Mac put a hoof to his mouth and blew a piercing whistle that stopped all the traffic in the square. Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo zipped up and took their places in front of him. One. Two. Three.

“Hi Big Macintosh!”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Big Macintosh!”

“Whaddup Big Macintosh?”

“Afternoon, ladies. Y’all been good fer Applejack?”

The three fillies grinned like li’l angels. Meaning, of course, they’d behaved like nothing of the kind.

“Thank Celestia y’all got here when ya did, Big Mac. Ah was goin’ plum loco keepin’ after these girls.” said Applejack , catching her breath.

“What, these girls?” Macintosh chuckled.

“We’re the Cutie Mark Crusader Lemonade Sellers today!” Scootaloo piped up. She motioned proudly towards a ramshackle lemonade stand set up a few feet from the Apple kiosk. Lemon pulp and sugar were scattered everywhere.

“Ah kin see that. Y’all gettin’ much business?”

“Well, we were, but then we broke our stirrin’ spoon and Scootaloo tried mixin’ the lemonade with her tail.” Applebloom shot Scootaloo a dirty look. Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Business kind of dropped off after that… Luckily, we had Applejack over here to play with durin’ the lull!” Applebloom grinned.

“And now y’all have Big Mac ta play with.” Applejack added desperately.

“Well, not quite yet.” said Big Mac “Ah still have a few bushels of apples ah gotta deliver t-”

“Ah’ll take care of those for ya big bro. Heh heh. You just relax with Applebloom and her friends.”

“If yer sure. The cart’s pretty-”

Applejack was already hitching herself up to the cart “No problem a-tall.”

“Heavy.”

Before Big Mac could argue further, Applejack was already puffing her way up the street and out of sight. He didn’t have time to ruminate on the matter, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were already back to destroying the apple kiosk with their antics.

***

A few hours later, Big Mac had gotten everything cleaned up. The CMCs were sitting quietly behind the counter of their lemonade stand and their product now didn’t have quite so many pink hairs floating in it. They still weren’t getting any business though.

Scootaloo sighed theatrically “Agh!! I’m bored! Why doesn’t anypony want some lemonade!?”

Big Mac stood up from his shady spot next to the kiosk.

“You know, sometimes sellin’ stuff isn’t just waitin’ for folks to come by. Ponies don’t always know what they want until you tell them they want it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’ve made like, a hundred sales without even saying a word!” groaned Applebloom.

“Well, everypony likes apples.”

Sweetie Belle took a sip from a glass of lemonade and immediately made a face.

“So who likes lemons?” she grimaced.

“Well, lots of folks. Y’all just gotta find yer target market.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Figure out ahead of time who buys yer stuff the most, then bring the stuff to them.”

Blank looks from the three fillies.

“If nopony buys lemonade, how’re we supposed to know who buys lemonade? You’re just talking in circles!” Scootaloo dropped her head to the plywood counter of the lemonade stand.

Big Mac opened his mouth to reply when Applebloom jumped up in front of his face.

“Oooh, ooh! Big Mac, do you think he’d buy some lemonade!?” she pointed wildly at the stranger trotting up the street in their direction.

Big Macintosh cocked his head at the strange sight.

“Eeyup. Ah reckon that feller would buy just about anything…”

***

“I daresay, Tombs, but we’re turning a lot of heads. I think my ensemble is a hit!” Blueblood crowed as he strode into Ponyville.

“It’s certainly striking, sir.”

It certainly was. Blueblood looked like a Nightmare Night costume of an Appleoosan cowpony. Large price tags dangled from his ten gallon hat and faux-leather vest, he wore clownishly oversized aviator sunglasses and the less said about the flankless chaps, the better.

“One thing I’ve often wondered, Tombs, why do boots have these sticky out parts in front? I daresay it makes it difficult to walk.” Blueblood waggled his forehoof, clad in a monstrously tacky snakeskin boot, to illustrate.

“Those are called ‘toes’ sir. I believe they’re to facilitate the removal of the boot. If the boots were straight up and down, one would have nothing to pull against.”

Blueblood stepped on one toe of his boot with the other, pulling his hoof out with ease before stuffing it back in.

“Why not just take them off with magic?”

“I hesitate to remind sir that Earth Ponies don’t have magic, and sir did insist the salesman dress him in traditional Earth Pony attire…”

“No magic. Of course. The poor things. Oh well, can’t be helped.” Blueblood shifted his hooves awkwardly in the large boots and strode onward.

“Such a quaint little town. I do look forward to experiencing some of the local color…” Blueblood mused.

“Hey, Mister! Y’all want some lemonade!?” a red and yellow blur exploded out of nowhere.

“Egads!” Blueblood was knocked flat on his back by the force of the tiny creature’s tackle “What’s happening, Tombs?”

“I believe sir has encountered some of the local color…”

“Well get it off me!”

***

Applebloom stood on the stranger’s chest and pushed her face to his.

“Hey mister! I asked y’all if you were gonna buy some lemonade!”

Tombs gave a small “ah-hem.”

“Excuse me young miss, but would you mind terribly stepping down off his highness?”

“His highness!?” Applebloom exclaimed “Yer royalty!?”

Blueblood’s pupils contracted to pinpoints and he sat bolt upright, catapulting Applebloom off his chest and sending her sailing across the square.

“No! No! No! He didn’t say ‘highness’… he said… ‘shyness’… I’m very shy.”

Big Mac walked up and offered his hoof. Blueblood took it gladly and righted himself.

“No need to be shy, partner. It’s obvious yer a stranger in these parts, we do well by strangers in Ponyville.”

Blueblood grinned sheepishly.

“Stranger?” he asked, blowing his ridiculous hat’s price tag out of his face “What makes you say that?”

Macintosh looked Blueblood up and down from the top of his giant hat to the toes of his boots.

“Just a hunch, really. So what’s yer name, stranger?”

Blueblood placed a hoof on his chest and cleared his throat.

“Greetings, I am Prince Blfffff-” Blueblood stuffed his hooves in his mouth to stifle the rest of his introduction.

“Prince What?”

“Did I say ‘prince?’”

“Yer a prince!?” Applebloom was back, no worse for her flight, and hopping excitedly in Blueblood’s face.

“No! No! My name is Prince…ton… Princeton. Umm… Princeton… Charmington.”

“Yer name is ‘Princeton Charmington’?” Big Mac raised an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Blueblood smiled “And this is my… chum… Tombs…ton.”

Blueblood gestured to Tombs, whose expression was carefully unreadable.

“Tombstone?” Applebloom asked.

“Little Miss may call me ‘Tombs’ for short.” said Tombs.

“Yes…” said Blueblood “Tombs! My buddy.” he threw a heavy hoof around Tombs’s shoulder and squeezed him like a rubber duck. Tombs broke away instantly and straightened himself.

“I prefer ‘gentlecolt’s gentlecolt’.”

Big Macintosh nodded in understanding. So that’s what they were calling themselves these days.

“So, Mr. Charmington what can ah do fer you?”

“Wanna buy some lemonade!? It’s refreshin’!” Applebloom butted in.

Blueblood chuckled warmly.

“Why certainly, little filly, it’s been a long journey and I could certainly use some refreshment.”

“Yeee haw!” Applebloom’s shrill cry of joy sent shivers through Blueblood’s spine and made his hackles stand on end.

Within seconds, the three fillies had poured a glass of lemonade, fought briefly over who would carry it, placed it on Sweetie Belle’s head and scampered back to Blueblood.

Blueblood lifted the glass with his magic and raised it to his lips, but halted mid sip when he noticed the long, pink hair drifting in the cloudy water. He spat what he had drank discreetly back into the glass and lowered it.

The wide smiles on the little fillies’ faces faded a little.

“You know, on second thought. What I need isn’t really refreshment. I’ve come here from a faraway place to make a name for myself and what I really need is a… What did you call it, Tombs?”

“A job, sir.”

“Yes! A ‘job’. Do you know where I can acquire one?”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders all shared puzzled looks.

Applebloom spoke up “Sorry mister, we ain’t hirin’ at the moment.”

Scootaloo sighed impatiently “You know what, he can have my spot. I gotta get going anyway. Today’s when Sugarcube Corner usually throws out all their stale muffins and I wanna get there before the birds get into them.”

“Huh?” Applebloom and Sweetie Belle asked together.

“Gotta scoot!” Scootaloo zipped behind the lemonade stand, jumped on her scooter and was away with a buzz of her tiny wings.

Blueblood smiled expectantly “So, does this mean I have a ‘job’?”

Applebloom gave the idea a few seconds consideration.

“Alright, but we’re dockin’ yer first paycheck fer the cost of that lemonade.”

“I don’t know what that means, but… Capital!” Blueblood cheered.

Big Mac stepped in between Applebloom and her new employee.

“Alright Applebloom, I think y’all have bothered the gentlecolt enough, now.” he turned to Blueblood “Mister, I thank ye kindly fer indulgin’ the little’uns, but you don’t need t’ trouble yerself. Ah’m sure a fancy feller like yerself has important places t’ be.”

“Oh no, it’s no trouble. I’d be happy to ‘work’.”

Big Mac examined Blueblood again, a bit more carefully this time.

“Well, it’s yer valuable time.” he said after some consideration “If y’all really have nothing better to do than spend all day playin’ at a child’s lemonade stand, ah ain’t gonna stop ya.”

“Hooray!” Blueblood and Applebloom cheered together.

***

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle got Blueblood set up behind the stand, gave him a hastily folded paper hat and tied Scootaloo’s apron around his neck, which on Blueblood looked more like a bib.

“There. Now, let’s sell some Lemonade!” Sweetie Belle declared.

“Aren’t you excited, Tombs?”

“Elated, sir.” Tombs said over the top of a newspaper in a nearby shady spot.

“So, how does ‘selling lemonade’ work?” Blueblood asked the two fillies.

“Well, ponies come by and if they’re thirsty, they buy lemonade… I think.” Sweetie Belle explained.

Blueblood nodded and folded his hooves on top of the counter to wait for customers.

Before long, Twilight Sparkle came trotting up the street, suspending a large stack of books ahead of her with her magic. Big Macintosh noticed her right away and sat up straighter in his spot behind the apple cart. Twilight spotted the group and wandered over to investigate the strange sight of the white unicorn sitting between the two little fillies behind the lemonade stand.

“Hi there, girls! Who’s your friend?” she asked, allowing the books to drift down to Earth.

“Hey, Twilight! This here’s mah new temp. He’s fillin’ in fer Scootaloo. His name’s Princeton Charmington.” Applebloom gestured over to the shady spot where Tombs had set up with a spot of tea and his newspaper “And that over there’s his gentlecolt friend.”

Tombs sank lower behind his newspaper.

Twilight studied “Princeton” and the flankless chaps. A look of realization crossed her face.

“Well, pleased to meet you! I’m Twilight Sparkle and may I say ‘good for you’.”

Blueblood assumed her comment referred to his new “job” of which he was quite proud.

“Thank you! And charmed… Have we met somewhere before?”

“I don’t believe so…”

Twilight had actually met the prince several times, as they both resided in Canterlot palace until recently, but at the moment she couldn’t see past the giant sunglasses and paper hat.

Blueblood bowed low and kissed Twilight’s hoof, eliciting a nervous giggle from Twilight.

“Is that Fleur De Lis’s Citrus Coat Shampoo I smell? You’re certainly a filly with good taste! I prefer the Herbal Rinse myself, though Tombs doesn’t care much for it.”

Twilight giggled again and the two quickly fell into easy conversation about the latest grooming products.

Big Macintosh felt his temper rise slightly at the sight of the two hitting it off so quickly. He fought down the jealous urges as best he could, but eventually surrendered to the impulse to butt in.

“Hey Twilight… I really like yer mane. Did you get it done up?”

Twilight and Blueblood both stared at Macintosh for several awkward seconds.

Twilight finally answered.

“Um, no... Spike just cut it with a bowl.”

“Well it looks mighty nice all the same.” a bead of nervous sweat trickled down Big Mac’s nose.

“Er… Thanks. By the way, Atlas Bucked is overdue. Don’t forget to drop it off at the library as soon as you can.”

Macintosh’s shoulders drooped.

“Eeyup…”

"Oh and, Big Macintosh?"

Big Macintosh perked up his ears.

"You haven't seen Rainbow Dash around at all, have you?" Twilight asked, scanning the sky.

"Nnope." his ears drooped again.

"That's too bad..."

Twilight gathered up her books, gave the group a brisk goodbye, and trotted away.

Big Macintosh watched her until she disappeared around the corner, then heaved a heavy sigh.

***

The sun began to dip close to the hills and business in the square had lulled nearly to a stop. Sweetie Belle’s parents had stopped by to pick her up an hour ago and now it was just the Apple siblings, Tombs and Blueblood. Applebloom gave a terrific yawn and rested her head on the pile of unsqueezed lemons.

The Prince got bored and walked over to the Apple kiosk, where Big Mac had just completed a transaction with Junebug.

“Thanks, Big Macintosh” Junebug said in a singsong voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Big Mac just nodded in response.

Blueblood sidled over after Junebug trotted away.

“I say, did you see the way that mare was looking at you?”

“Nnope.”

“Egads! You must be blind. If a mare ever gave me a look like that, she and I would swiftly be getting more acquainted, if you know what I mean…” Blueblood winked.

Macintosh blinked.

“Nnope.”

“Really? You must be joking! All day long I’ve watched fillies practically throw themselves at you. You really haven’t noticed?”

Big Mac shook his head.

“You never wondered why practically all your customers are mares?”

“Nnope.”

“That one with the carrots on her flank stopped by three times.”

Big Mac gave it some thought.

“Ah s’pect she just likes apples.”

Blueblood chuckled “You poor stallion, it’s tragically obvious it wasn’t your apples she was after…”

Big Mac blinked a few times, then went back to minding the kiosk. Blueblood clucked his tongue in disappointment.

The sound of wagon wheels on cobblestone echoed through the town square and interrupted Blueblood’s train of thought. Big Mac perked up his ears.

“My word, is that… a Zebra?” Blueblood asked.

“Eeyup.” Macintosh nodded “Evenin’ miss Zecora, what brings you ‘round?”

Zecora the Zebra smiled and nodded a greeting. Behind her, she pulled a small stand piled high with exotic goods; strange herbs hung in clumps from the sunshade while bottles and phials of all shapes and sizes rattled on foldaway shelves.

“Now that my presence no longer scares, I thought I might come to town with my wares.” she rhymed.

“Ah applaud yer entrepreneurial spirit, miss Zecora, but it’s almost sundown. Ah don’t s’pect y’all will get much business.”

“It’s almost sundown, that much is right, but my customers tend to do their shopping at night.”

“Oh yes?” said Blueblood, walking up to join the conversation “And what do you sell, dear crone?”

Zecora wrinkled her nose at Blueblood’s comment, but answered.

“I carry many cures and tonics on these racks, but my biggest business is aphrodisiacs.”

Blueblood coughed into his hoof. Big Mac pretended to be very interested in something up in the sky.

“So nothing I would need, then.” Blueblood declared, a little too loudly. Zecora rolled her eyes.

He gave the cart a furtive once-over, satisfied that there was nothing to interest him until a glint of gold caught his eye.

“Wait, what’s this?” Blueblood used his magic to pluck a small, velvet pillow from amidst the strange gourds and shoots. On the pillow rested a pair of golden horseshoes.

Zecora stepped up quickly and grabbed the pillow with her mouth. She paced it carefully back on her stand.

“Those, alas, are not for sale. Each magic shoe carries a fateful tale.”

“Magic horseshoes?”

“Legends tell a fateful story

Of a pony, proud and hoary.

Fed up with his life of riches

Did these golden horseshoes purchase

For they held a special spell

To free him from his gilded hell

For should another pony freely choose

Each could walk a mile in the others’ shoes.”

Blueblood spent several long seconds pondering the subtext of the poem before giving up.

“In plain English, please?”

“These shoes, when by two ponies worn

From their bodies, souls are torn

They are then swapped each with the other

So each can look out from the eyes of another.”

Blueblood scratched his chin with his hoof.

“So they swap bodies?”

Zecora nodded rather than compose another rhyming couplet.

“Hmmmmmmmmm” Blueblood scratched his chin harder and his thoughts began to churn with the possibilities.

***

While Zecora finished setting up her stand, Big Mac was folding the applecart up for the night. He picked up the snoozing Applebloom by the scruff of her neck and laid her across his back. Applebloom yawned groggily, but was asleep again in the blink of an eye. Big Mac adjusted her slightly so that she wouldn’t slip, smiled in satisfaction at a day well spent, then turned to leave for home.

He’d barely trotted a few steps when he noticed the clip clop of hoofsteps on the cobblestones behind him. Big Macintosh turned to see Prince Blueblood standing just a few feet away, grinning sheepishly. Big Mac shook his head, turned around and started down the street again.

Clip clop clip clop.

Big Macintosh stopped again and looked over his shoulder. Prince blueblood was standing a little closer this time, still wearing that same nervous grin. Big Mac peered at Blueblood for a moment before turning and walking again.

Clip clop.

Big Mac stopped and whipped his head around, catching Blueblood frozen in mid stride. Without taking his eyes from the prince, Big Mac took an exploratory step. Blueblood matched it. Big Mac gave up an exasperated sigh.

“Y’all don’t have any place to stay, do you?”

“Er, well…” Blueblood coughed “If you’re offering…”

Big Mac fought a brief internal battle with his sense of hospitality, but it was fruitless. His ears drooped and his mouth formed the words independently of his desires.

“I can setcha up someplace if y’all follow me.”

He turned once more and started back down the street.

“Capital! Come along, Tombs.”

Tombs rousted quickly from his station beneath a tree (where he had been napping discreetly) and took his place by his master’s side. Together, the quartet made their way out of Ponyville and down the long dirt road towards Sweet Apple Acres…

END OF PART II

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter III

THE PRINCE AND THE WORKHORSE

PART III

Prince Blueblood stood alone in Big Macintosh’s room, now seriously reconsidering his quest for self-improvement. What had he gotten himself into? Only an hour past sundown and the whole household was already asleep? The nightlife in Canterlot had barely begun!

He surveyed his surroundings. So bare! So common! The room was illuminated by a single candle, and there were no furnishings besides the bed, dresser and lonely shelf with its read-worn books and hideous ragdoll. A painting of a sad clown gazed morosely out of its frame.

Painted oak floors with no carpet? Lumpy peasant mattress? Tacky ceramic jug and bowl? Ugh. This was going to be much more of a trial than he imagined. At least he wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. His host had kindly gone to fetch the guest accommodations, which he could only assume would be nicer than the cheap cotton-stuffed affair he was looking at now.

Loud squeaking on the wooden stairs signaled the return of Big Macintosh with the “guest accommodations.” A short minute later, Big Mac backed into the room, dragging some sort of grimy, rectangular mass in his teeth. Blueblood realized with horror that it was a straw pallet.

Big Macintosh dropped the pallet unceremoniously in the center of the room and stamped it a few times with his forehoof, throwing a cloud of moldy dust into the air.

Blueblood coughed and let escape an involuntary “Eeeugh!”

Big Mac stopped his adjustments and shot the ungrateful prince a dirty look.

Blueblood coughed again.

“Sorry, dust always does that to my sinuses… eeeugh, eeeugh” he enunciated into his hoof.

Big Mac didn’t seem convinced…

“You know I really am grateful to you for your hospitality. Your home is… lovely.” Blueblood pretended to admire the décor “I am sorry about the fuss Tombs raised. I know it must be odd to have a guest sleep in your pantry…”

Tombs’s thoroughly cultivated valet propriety did not allow him to share a room with his betters and, in the absence of proper servants’ quarters, the pantry seemed to be the next best option.

Big Macintosh nodded, then gestured to the ceramic jug and bowl.

“Y’all can wash up there.” he explained.

So that’s what those are there for… Blueblood fought hard to keep the distress from creeping into his expression.

Meanwhile, the farmpony doffed the heavy yoke he wore around his neck, hung it on its hook and fell into bed with a symphony of creaks from the wooden frame.

“Goodnight” he grunted.

Blueblood fidgeted his hooves, discomforted by the illicit cargo stashed in his new boots… He considered his next words carefully. The old “fairytale come true” bit was a surefire hit with the mares, but he’d never tried it on a stallion before. Oh well, here goes nothing…

“Mister Apple,” he began. Big Mac stirred in his bed and his ear pricked up to listen.

Blueblood continued, “I am moved by the simple beauty of your home and your family, so in my gratitude I have decided to share with you my secret.”

Big Mac’s ear drooped immediately “Uhhh… That’s not necess-”

Blueblood shushed him.

“Though it shames me to say it, I have deceived you. I am not the handsome stranger you believe me to be.”

Big Macintosh rolled over to face Blueblood.

“I am, in fact…” Blueblood threw his sunglasses and hat aside with a dramatic flourish of his golden mane.

“Prince Blueblood, traveling incognito!”

Blueblood used his magic to fling the rest of his outfit off and drop it to the floor.

Big Macintosh stared for a few seconds before rolling back over to his other side. Not quite the reaction Blueblood was expecting. He walked up to Big Mac and jostled him with his hoof.

“Did you hear what I just said? I’m a prince traveling in disguise! I can reward you handsomely for your gracious hospitality! I can give you everything! Money! Power! Titles! How would you like to live the life of a prince?”

Big Mac considered this.

“Nnope.”

Blueblood huffed in frustration.

“I can give you anything! Isn’t there something you want?”

“Eeyup.”

“Name it.”

“Sleep.”

Blueblood backed off and reconsidered his tactics. This hayseed was too buried in the so called “simple things” to be tempted by the accoutrements of civilized life, like a buffalo not understanding the value of a land title… So what did this farmpony want? What was the lowest common denominator? What was the cheapest, easiest-

Blueblood conked himself on the forehead with his hoof for not thinking of it sooner.

“What about mares?”

“Nnope.”

“What about that Purple Mare?”

That got Big Mac’s attention. His hackles raised and he rolled over in bed again.

Blueblood backed off a little when he saw the intensity of Big Mac’s glare.

“I saw the way you looked at her…” he said “Every filly in town made goo goo eyes at you, but you only sat up straight when she came sniffing around.”

Big Mac glowered. Blueblood continued.

“It’s a pity she didn’t show any interest in you. Trust me, though, it’s for the best. You’re better off without her type-”

“What do you mean, her ‘type’?” The edge in Big Mac’s voice put Blueblood off balance. He’d meant to strike a nerve, but aggravating his host was definitely not in his best interest. Blueblood gave his best disarming grin.

“Oh, you know; the sophisticated type. She’s obviously a mare of high standards and education…”

Big Mac’s tense muscles eased a little.

“It’s a shame she doesn’t appreciate a hard working Earth pony like yourself. All she sees is a common workhorse.”

Big Mac avoided Blueblood’s eyes. His expression darkened.

“A pony like me on the other hoof…”

Big Mac was up and out of bed in a flash. He raised himself up to his full height and snorted deep in his bull-like throat.

“You stay away from-”

Blueblood spoke quickly “Could easily win her for you. For you! For you!” he cringed.

Big Mac sat back down, the weight of his haunches sent a tiny tremor through the house.

“Just how the heck would you do that?” he asked.

“Simple!” Blueblood popped his boots off with his magic and upended them in midair. Zecora’s golden horseshoes clattered to the floor.

“You stole those!” Big Mac exclaimed.

Blueblood shushed him again and held up his forehoof so that Big Mac could see the bottom. It was bare.

“Not stole, traded.” Blueblood smirked “My horseshoes are made of gold too, see?”

Blueblood turned around and raised his left hind leg. Nailed to the bottom of that hoof was a golden horseshoe almost identical to the pair that had recently been in Zecora’s possession.

“Tradin’ without permission is stealing.” Big Mac frowned.

“Maybe in a technical sense, but if she doesn’t miss them, has she really been wronged?”

“Eeyup.”

“Then which is more wrong? Taking these horseshoes, or the Purple Filly ignoring everything you have to offer her simply because she can’t see past your country bumpkin exterior?”

Big Mac opened his mouth to speak, but stopped to consider. Blueblood leaped on the hesitation.

“Exactly. So, here’s my proposal: I want to be appreciated on my own merit, but all anypony sees is a handsome prince. You want to win the heart of a high-class mare, but all she sees is a dumb bumpkin.”

“Y’all can quit callin’ me that anytime.”

“Sorry. Anyway, what if the magic spell on these horseshoes works? We swap bodies, and all our problems disappear!”

Big Mac considered for a long time. He looked over at the shelf where Twilight’s Smartypants doll sat in a heap, and at the book he still hadn’t finished (he was stuck on John Gulch’s sixty-page denouement) and he thought about Cherilee.

“Ah don’t know…”

“Faint heart never won fair lady, my friend.” Blueblood urged, “If you try this and fail, we switch back and you’re no worse off than you were before. If we try and succeed, you’ll win the heart of your true love!”

“What happens when she figgurs out we switched?”

“By then she’ll already be in love with you, and we all live happily ever after!”

Big Mac thought hard before reaching a conclusion. He got up and walked over to the dresser, pulling open a drawer with his teeth and rummaging around. Blueblood watched him with a puzzled expression.

“So…?”

Big Mac pushed the drawer shut with his face and walked back to blueblood. In his mouth were a hammer and nails.

“Capital!” Blueblood exclaimed. He levitated the magic horseshoes up and slipped one onto his forehoof. Big Mac tapped the nails into place with the hammer before turning it over to Blueblood, who pried off Big Mac’s simple iron horseshoe and affixed the golden one in its place. As Blueblood tapped the last nail flush with the shoe, a gust of wind blew across the orchard and rattled the windowpanes while a wolf howled from a distant hill.

They stood there in silence for a few moments.

“Do you feel any different?” Blueblood asked.

“Nnope.”

“Me neither. Maybe we did it wrong… I’ll try again.”

Blueblood levitated the hammer and wedged the claw underneath the edge of his golden shoe. It wouldn’t budge. He concentrated harder. Sweat beaded on his muzzle and he felt his heavy pulse in his forehead, but the shoe still wouldn’t move. Blueblood eased off a little, gathering his strength for a second try. He blasted the hammer with his magic. It flew off his hoof and embedded itself in the wall with a loud “wham!”

Some oldster mumbled from the other room and a mare swore loudly through the wall.

“Whazzah?”

“Tarnation! Go to sleep Applebloom!”

“It wasn’t me!”

Big Mac and Blueblood shared a moment of panic and blew out the candle. They remembered no more.

***

Prince Blueblood awoke as he did every morning, spooning with a beautiful mare whose name he had completely forgotten. He ran a hoof over the body of his latest conquest. She was heavier than he usually went for; he must have been extremely drunk last night, which would explain the pounding headache. She sure smelled nice, though; like Fleur De Lis’s Herbal Rinse. He opened his eyes. She had a well-groomed, snowy white coat and a beautiful golden mane. Blueblood gripped her closer and slid his hoof down her side, caressing her thick haunches and stroking her great, big-

Horn!?

Blueblood leaped to his hooves. That was no mare! That was-

“Big Macintosh!” somepony hollered from the floor below.

Hoofsteps on the stairs.

“Big Macintosh!” the female voice called again in a Southern twang.

Blueblood started to panic, what would he do? At his feet, the prince’s body stirred at the sound of the mare’s call.

An orange filly in a cowboy hat and soiled work duds stepped into the room and glared at him.

“Big Macintosh! Ah thought you were up hours ago! We’re s’posed t’ be plowin’ the east field and we’re already behind!”

“Umm…” Blueblood mumbled, then froze at the unfamiliar sound of Big Macintosh’s voice coming from his throat.

“And whut’s the idea of stashin’ a guest in our pantry? He just about scared Granny Smith to death this mornin’ when she tripped over him!”

“Err…”

The orange pony sighed.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Tombs explained everythin’”

“He did?” Blueblood croaked.

“Yup, but you still need to give us a heads up if yer bringin’ strangers to the house! Now hop to it!”

The orange pony pushed past him, grabbed Big Mac’s yoke and crammed it over Blueblood’s head. It felt like it weighed a ton, yet somehow, Blueblood shouldered it easily. He looked down at his sleeping body with concern.

“Don’t worry ‘bout our guest. I s’pect he’ll manage, but our seeds won’t if we don’t get them planted in time! Move it!”

She planted her forehead on his flank and shoved him through the door before he could formulate an objection.

***

Big Macintosh yawned. Ugh. It felt like he had a frog in his throat. Was that Applejack he’d heard just a moment ago?

“Applejack?” somepony said.

Big Mac sat up.

“Who’s there?” somepony asked.

Wait a second. That was him talking. But his voice was so nasal and whiny!

Big Macintosh shook his head and looked around. He was alone in the room, light poured onto his face and birdsong drifted through the window along with a cool spring breeze. He was laying on the straw pallet he’d dragged up here for that weirdo “prince,” but there was no sign of his houseguest. Oh well, he didn’t have time to go looking for him right now, the sun would be up soon and… Big Macintosh realized what time it was. Celestia! He was late! He was supposed to be up before sunrise to help plow the east field!

Big Mac stood up and stepped over to grab his yoke. His forehoof clunked on the floor and he realized he’d thrown a shoe. Great, no time to fix it; Applejack was probably already furious with him. Now he’d have to plow the whole field with only three shoes.

And no yoke.

Big Macintosh nickered in confusion and looked around the room. Had that “prince” character taken it? He stepped out into the hall.

Or he would have if somepony hadn’t just slammed him in the forehead with a mallet! The force of the blow knocked him to the ground. Big Mac searched for his attacker, but there was nopony nearby. Above him, he noticed a deep divot in the lintel over the door. Could he have hit his head on that? Big Mac put a hoof to his forehead to check the damage.

Clunk.

His hoof struck something hard jutting out of his forehead and poking it sent vibrations through his skull. He crossed his eyes to try and see it, but whatever it was was infuriatingly beyond his field of vision. He poked it again and dim realization coalesced in his brain. He looked at the hoof he’d just poked his horn with: the hair was white! Memories of last night and the magic horseshoes flooded back to him.

“Ah, sire, you’re awake.”

Big Macintosh turned to see that Tombs character perched at the top of the landing. How had he made the climb without making any noise? Big Macintosh saw that Tombs was levitating a tray of breakfast and realized he was famished. Tombs trotted past him into the room. He placed the tray on the bed and Big Mac dug into the bowl of oatmeal with abandon.

“Ah hem.”

Big Macintosh looked up into the stern, mustachioed face of Blueblood’s valet.

“Who are you and what have you done with the prince?” he glared.

“Uhh…” Big Macintosh shifted his eyes away from Tombs’s stern gaze “I’m the prince.”

“Hardly, Prince Blueblood is never awake of his own volition before ten, he certainly wouldn’t refer to himself as ‘the prince’ and I’ve never seen him eat his oatmeal without a spoon…”

Tombs levitated a spoon off the tray and suspended it in Macintosh’s face.

A drop of oatmeal fell from Big Macintosh’s chin onto the breakfast tray and he hung his head. He’d never imagined the magic would really work, but he figured that if it did, he would at least get farther in Blueblood’s body than the first five minutes before being discovered.

“I suspected something like this had occurred when our gracious host had to be dragged out into the field via his tail.”

“Eeyup.” That sounded like Applejack alright. He didn’t envy Blueblood right now.

Big Mac looked up at Tombs.

“What’re you going to do?”

Tombs gave it some thought.

“I’m going to draw you a bath, get you groomed and then we’ll work on getting you both sorted out.”

Tombs sensed Macintosh’s confusion.

“As a valet, one of my responsibilities is to look after my master’s appearance. You may not be my master, but that is his appearance and it must be kept presentable at all times. As for this mix up, I suspect sir was more the victim than the perpetrator…”

Macintosh nodded and followed Tombs down the stairs. His new body felt strange. Though Big Mac and Blueblood were roughly the same build, there was a significant difference between a body hardened by decades of field labor and one sculpted by a personal trainer. He felt lighter, leaner and more limber. The aches and pains of a long day’s work, as familiar to him as old friends, were conspicuously absent. Something else was missing, too; all Earth Ponies are born with a connection to the land, a subtle whisper that soothes their spirits and guides their hoofsteps. The void it left was so alien and unsettling that Big Macintosh couldn’t even quantify it to himself, as if a deafness had settled over his soul. In its place there was only a fresh lilac scent and a strange, electric tingling at the base of his horn. He hoped Blueblood was faring better wherever he was.

***

“Big Macintosh! What’s wrong with you? Why’re you sittin’ down again?” his tormentor chided.

Blueblood looked over his shoulder at his progress. The furrow he’d spent the past hour plowing was barely twenty feet long. He opened his mouth to explain how difficult it was, but Applejack was already barking at him again. Blueblood began to realize why Big Macintosh was a pony of few words. Anything he needed to express had to fit between the gaps in his sister’s constant yammering!

The stream of yokel speak gradually eased to a trickle. Blueblood wiped the sweat from his forehead, pausing to rub the spot where his horn used to be. What bothered him most was that the spot didn’t even hurt. He expected to have at least some reminder of his missing extremity.

“You feelin’ ok Big Mac?” Applejack’s frustration had melted into concern. She’d never seen her brother like this.

“Uh… Eyop?” Blueblood tried his best approximation of Big Mac’s laconic drawl. Applejack looked more concerned than ever.

“You sure yer okay? You seem really troubled by somethin’…”

“Well, now that you mention it, I feel quite…”

Applejack raised an eyebrow.

“I mean… ummm… durrr… I don’t feel too good?”

Applejack placed the back of her hoof on Blueblood’s forehead.

“How much sun did you get yesterday? I bet Applebloom and her friends must’ve ran you ragged! You gotta remember to hydrate when yer dealin’ with them.”

Blueblood decided to run with it.

“Oh! Yes! I’m so exhausted. Uh… Applebloom made me run to and fro all day and I think I may have a touch of heatstroke.”

“Have you been hangin’ out with Rarity?” Applejack sighed “No point in workin’ yerself to exhaustion ah guess. Just sit down and cool off. Y’all kin pick back up once you feel better.”

Applejack helped Blueblood unhook himself from the heavy plow and guided him to the shade of a nearby apple tree where he pretended to swoon. Applejack tutted, then returned to her work in the field. Blueblood opened one eyelid and peeked to make sure the coast was clear before rolling over into a more comfortable position. He drank in the fresh air and idyllic surroundings. The soft cushion of grass felt as welcome as a goose down bed while the living earth beneath his feet sang its silent song, quieting the tumult in his body and mind. Blueblood relaxed, grateful for the brief respite. Maybe the farm life wouldn’t be so bad after all…END OF PART III

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter IV

THE PRINCE AND THE WORKHORSE

PART IV

Big Macintosh did his best not to fuss as Tombs combed the snarls out of his mane. He’d stood still for the currycomb and pedicure, but after ninety minutes of being worked over by every possible grooming implement, even his nearly bottomless patience had begun to run out. The attention was much less awkward now that Tombs had clarified the exact nature of his relationship with Blueblood, though Big Macintosh had still insisted on bathing himself. While Tombs combed, Big Macintosh narrated the events of the previous night as best he could remember. Tombs nodded his understanding.

“Just about finished, sir.” Tombs smoothed the last cornsilk blonde hair into place “and done.”

He levitated a mirror to allow Big Mac to examine his appearance.

This was the first time he’d actually seen “his” face in a reflective surface. The shock took the strength out of his legs and he felt a momentary tension in his chest. Looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger look back is an experience anypony could live a happy life without experiencing. He winked and waggled his tongue at the mirror and watched the stranger do the same thing.

Still though…

He imagined the new him, fresh groomed and regal, trotting up to Twilight’s door, a bouquet of flowers in his mouth, no, hovering alongside with magic. She opens the door and her eyes flutter with delight at seeing her beloved: Prince Macintosh. She plants a warm kiss on his cheek and together they go out for a moonlit stroll. Could he do it? Could he play the role of the Handsome Prince?

Macintosh watched Tombs as he levitated the mirror with his magic. Could he do that too? He concentrated on the tingling in his forehead and felt the magic respond in his mind. He realized that his horn wasn’t just a numb spike of keratin; he could feel the air moving across it, and something else, too. Beneath the air, an electric current whose ebb and flow permeated every object in the room. He felt his consciousness drifting into the strange tide and quickly withdrew, frightened by the new, unfamiliar sense he now possessed.

“Is everything to sir’s satisfaction?”

Big Mac hesitated.

“Eeyup,” he finally answered.

Together they trotted out into the late morning sun to find Blueblood. Big Mac had a good idea where Blueblood probably ended up and he led Tombs down the dirt path to the east field where the freshly tilled soil still waited to be furrowed and planted. As they trotted, Big Macintosh allowed himself some timid exploration of the world touched by his horn. He found that he could not only feel the currents of magic as they drifted past, but that he could bend and direct them as well. He gave a nearby apple a timid prod and was pleasantly surprised when it bobbed in response. He continued his practice as they made their way to the end of the path and before too long he had become dexterous enough to lift and manipulate objects. The pair rounded a small knoll and Macintosh froze in his tracks, his newfound powers momentarily forgotten. Tombs trotted to a halt alongside.

What Big Macintosh saw made his blood boil. There was his body, dozing quietly in the broad shade of an apple tree while his little sister Applejack, his yoke huge and heavy around her neck, struggled step by step to drag the massive plow through the soil. He puffed a snort of frustration and involuntarily pawed the ground with his hoof. Before Tombs could react, Big Macintosh was halfway across the field to his sister.

“I’ll help,” he said as he trotted up.

Applejack shied away, spooked by the massive white stallion bearing down on her.

“Uh, ah got it, thanks.”

Big Macintosh didn’t wait for her assent. He reached out to her with his magic, pushing his consciousness down the invisible lines of force that emanated from her body. He lifted the yoke, a little more roughly than he intended, and yanked it from Applejack’s head, clipping her ears and knocking her hat off in the process.

“Hey! Now see here!” she blustered, rubbing her sore ears with her hoof.

“Ah’m sorry…” Big Macintosh stuffed his head through the hovering yoke and released his magical grip. The yoke was slightly too big for Blueblood’s narrower build, but he hove forward and the plow only gave a second’s resistance before following.

***

Applejack was dumbstruck. The stranger looked at her as if he’d known her all his life. He’d looked at her like… she glanced over at Big Macintosh, still dozing, before shaking the idea out of her head. Somepony had better bring her up to speed on what all this craziness was about.

She saw Tombs treading somewhat daintily across the field in Big Mac’s direction. Maybe he’d have an explanation.

“Mister Tombs!” she hollered. He stopped and turned.

“What’s the meanin’ of all this hullabaloo? Why’s yer master ponyhandlin’ me while mah big brother’s busy collapsin’ of heatstroke? Yer the only pony here actin’ half-sane and I ‘spect some answers!”

Tombs wavered slightly in the face of her anger, but maintained his composure and raised a calming hoof.

“I believe I may be able to shed some light on this mystifying misunderstanding, miss. If you’ll kindly follow me.”

Tombs stepped over the furrows to the edge of the field and made his way over to Big Macintosh. Applejack followed.

“I believe you’ll find these to be the culprit,” explained tombs, lifting up her brother’s forehoof with his. Nailed to the bottom was a gleaming arc of gold. Big Macintosh roused from his slumber and looked up into the faces of Applejack and Tombs.

“Golden horseshoes!?” Applejack exclaimed “Well no wonder yer havin’ trouble, Big Mac! What kind of idiot wears golden horseshoes? Those’re no good fer farmin’! Gold’s way too soft! That’s a good way t’ chip a hoof and hurt yerself! You tellin’ me that’s been the problem all along?”

***

Blueblood pulled his hoof back from Tombs and planted it on the ground, hoisting himself up.

“Er, you see…”

“It seems that my master and your brother have swapped souls, somehow.” Tombs interrupted.

“Swapped soles?” Applejack rolled her eyes “Ah kin tell that much. Only a fancypants like yer master there would spend money on sumthin’ like golden horseshoes. Ah just dunno whut would possess mah brother to try swappin’ with him. Ah guess everypony’s curious about the high life once in a while…”

Tombs looked confused.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, miss. That’s not Fancypants, that’s-”

Blueblood stepped in.

“Charmington. Princeton Charmington.” Blueblood pointed across the field to where his body dragged the heavy plow, already halfway done with his second furrow.

“That handsome stallion over there is Princeton Charmington, and Tombs works for him and I’m Big Macintosh.” Blueblood turned around and gave Tombs a meaningful look. That dumb bumpkin must’ve just told him everything! Hopefully Tombs would get the hint and keep quiet.

Tombs’s face was unreadable.

“Very good, Sir,” he responded with deliberate enunciation.

Applejack was as confused and frustrated as ever.

“I know who everypony is! What I wanna know is what it’ll take to get this field plowed on time!”

“Well Princeton can’t do it. It’ll just ruin my… I mean his pedicure.”

“Well switch yer shoes back and get t’ work, then. You seem to be feelin’ better,” she shot him a dirty look.

Meanwhile, Tombs produced the iron horseshoe they had removed from Big Macintosh’s hoof last night, and a hammer and nails as well. Blueblood took a step backward.

“Big Macintosh! Take off that shoe right now!” Applejack ordered “Itain’t yers and this foolishness has gone on long enough. Honestly, pedicures and such and such…” she trailed off, grumbling to herself.

“Yes, but…”

Tombs levitated Blueblood’s foreleg while applejack wedged the claw end of the hammer between the shoe and his hoof. She heaved with all her might.

No good. She pried at it with all her strength, but even with Tombs helping the shoe wouldn’t give even a hairsbreadth. They huffed and puffed at it for a solid few minutes, but eventually gave up.

“Tarnation! What’s keepin’ that thing on?”

“Magic, I suspect,” answered Tombs.

“Magic is right,” she looked up at Blueblood “Big Mac, when yer done in the fields today ah want you t’ go and see Twilight. Maybe she can fix this.”

“I could just go right now…” Blueblood suggested.

“Nope, too much to do and we’ve lost too much time already. Don’t be a bad host and make yer houseguest do yer chores for ya. He’s got places t’be ahm sure.”

“But-”

“Get!”

Blueblood gave Tombs a pleading look. Once again, Tombs’s expression was unreadable.

“My master and I have errands to run in town. Making arrangements to have his luggage delivered from the station and all that. I’m sure you’ll understand if we take our leave, Mr. Macintosh.” Tombs explained.

Blueblood searched the faces of Tombs and Applejack for any sort of mercy and found none. Crestfallen, he plodded out onto the field where Big Macintosh had started down his next furrow.

“I’ll take over from here,” said Blueblood, pawing at the ground like a scolded foal.

Big Macintosh stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily from his labors. He fixed Blueblood with an icy look that was shocking in its ferocity. The prince didn’t know his face could do that.

“Will you, now?” Big Macintosh growled. It was strange to hear his own voice turned against him, and to have it sound so forceful.

“Er… Yes.”

“Good.” Big Macintosh slipped his head out from the yoke and used his magic to force it over Blueblood’s neck. This time his roughness was deliberate. Big Mac pressed his face close to, well, his face.

“If ah come back and find out you’ve made A.J. plow one more inch of this field, yer gonna wake up with yer back broke…” he paused and corrected himself “my back broke.”

Blueblood’s ears drooped and he swallowed back a nervous whimper.

Big Macintosh raised his head.

“Tombs!” he called.

Tombs sidled up alongside and together they made their way off the field. Blueblood watched them until they passed out of sight, then turned to the unplowed earth ahead of him. He had a long way to go…

***

Big Macintosh fumed in silence as he and Tombs followed the winding road into town. The hours spent carefully grooming and bathing him were all for naught, as dragging the plow across the field had roughed up Big Macintosh’s appearance considerably. He stepped awkwardly; in his rush to leave, he hadn’t retrieved his other horseshoe, and was still walking on only three. Tombs trotted alongside like a dutiful bloodhound, for the first time unsure of what he should do. Finally, he spoke up.

“Since it looks like I am temporarily in sir’s employ, perhaps sir would enlighten me as to where we’re going?”

Big Macintosh stared straight ahead.

“The Library.”

“I see.” Tombs could tell his “master” wasn’t in a talking mood, and respected his silence for the rest of the walk into town.

Big Macintosh’s smoldering anger had cooled quite a bit by the time they had reached the main thoroughfare into Ponyville. He nodded politely to the ponies he passed on the street. Though they nodded back, their lack of recognition was unsettling. Big Macintosh knew nearly everypony in town by name, yet ponies he’d known all his life looked through him as if they’d never seen him before and, let’s face it, they hadn’t.

It was past noon by the time they reached the town common. The sun was high in the sky and, despite Winter Wrap Up having been just two weeks ago, the air was pleasantly warm. Traffic in the square had slowed with the noonday lull. Many ponies were inside napping during this time of day, or laying in shady spots, whisking at the flies with their tails as they lounged and chatted with each other. A large fountain dominated the square, its jets filling the air with a crystalline mist that was cool and refreshing. A bubblegum-pink pony with a frizzy mane of candyfloss hair was doing calisthenics at the edge of the pool. She wore lime green leg warmers and a fluorescent orange sweatband that clashed horribly with her coat. Her expression was one of deep focus as she balanced on her hind hooves, bobbing up and down on the fountain’s edge to exercise the muscles in her hocks and cannons.

“Afternoon, Pinkie Pie.” Big Mac greeted absent mindedly as he passed.

“Hey Big Macintosh!” answered Pinkie Pie without turning around.

A beat passed between them before all three stopped simultaneously. Pinkie Pie looked over her shoulder and hopped off the fountain. Big Mac realized his jaw was hanging open and he snapped it shut. Pinkie Pie cocked her head, examining him closely before breaking out into a large grin.

“Oh wow! I’m so super sorry! I thought you were Big Macintosh,” she giggled.

“How did-?” Tombs began, but Pinkie Pie cut him off.

“You see my thighs got all quivery, and when my thighs get quivery, that usually means Big Macintosh is somewhere nearby, just like when my tail gets twitchy, it means something’s about to fall, or when my ears get all floppy it means-”

Big Macintosh tried to speak, but Pinkie was still talking.

“-Because I get all these little niggly feelings that sometimes tell me what’s going on! I call it my ‘Pinkie Sense.’ But you know, I’m not the only filly whose thighs get all quivery when Big Mac’s around! I guess everypony’s got a little bit of a Pinkie Sense when it comes to him! And who can blame them? He’s such a dreamboat, you know?”

Big Mac shook his head. He didn’t know.

Pinkie giggled “Well of course you wouldn’t know. You’re new! And if you’re new that means-”

Pinkie’s face locked dead still and her eyes shot as wide as dinner plates. She gasped so sharply and deeply that even Tombs flinched before she rocketed four feet into the air and galloped off in the opposite direction.

Tombs straightened his bowler hat.

“What a strange pony,” he said.

“Eeyup.”

***

The library was on the opposite side of town, beyond the main streets on the edge of a broad park. While most of the buildings in ponyville had their roots in the timber-frame and plaster style of architecture with its wildly jutting jetties and balconies, the library had its roots deep in the soil. Much of the land that incorporated Ponyville had been reclaimed from the Everfree Forest centuries earlier. The trees the first settlers felled to clear the land for their crops were now the ancient timbers that formed the posts and pillars of Ponyville. Only one tree of the original forest now remained in the town proper: a sprawling old growth oak, which the townsfolk originally hollowed out as a silo for the storage of seed grain during the winter. Later, as the town grew and the silo fell into disuse, Celestia herself endowed it as the town library rather than see the proud tree be chopped down. Now the library was a proud landmark, and the position of town librarian traditionally held by a respected scholar.

Big Mac looked up at the venerable tree and the butterflies welled up in his stomach. The respected scholar and personal protégé of the Princess that ran the library also happened to be that exotic Arabian flower, Twilight Sparkle. Big Mac choked back the fluttering in his stomach, steeled his nerves, and trotted through the ancient Dutch door into the still and silent air of the library.

He could hear Twilight’s prim voice drifting down the stairs from her quarters above the library. She was in the process of dictating a letter to her personal assistant/pet dragon whelp, Spike.

“Dear Princess Celestia, this week I learned that it’s never a good idea to loan someone a large sum of money, especially if it’s a close friend. No matter how much you trust someone, it’s easy for that debt to come between you, causing a rift which can divide even the closest friendship,” she announced as Spike scribbled rapidly onto his scroll.

A second voice piped up, “And I learned that you should never borrow money unless you’re absolutely sure you can pay it back. Borrowing money is something you do in an emergency, and not just when you really want something…”

The voice belonged to Rainbow Dash.

“No hard feelings, Rainbow?” asked Twilight. “I’m sorry I got so obsessive about getting that money back from you, and for spooking you and getting you hurt.”

A sky-blue Pegasus whose mane was a shock of rainbow colored hair fluttered down the stairwell. Her left eye was black and shiny, but her smile was warm and genuine.

“No hard feelings, Twi,” she called up over her shoulder. “I’m just sorry I blew all that money on Wonderbolts tickets and didn’t save any for an icepack. Ow.”

Rainbow Dash dabbed her tender eye with her hoof before pushing past Big Macintosh, catching him on the nose with a wing as she folded it against her side.

“’Scuse me, buddy,” she said, trotting out into the afternoon sun.

Big Macintosh and Tombs stood awkwardly in the center of the room. The air of the library was once again dead still, punctuated only by the soft scratching of Spike’s quill. Big Macintosh cleared his throat involuntarily. The soft murmur of his throat seemed as loud as a gunshot in the silence.

“Is someone there?” Twilight Sparkle called down. He heard her hoofsteps on the stairs before she stepped out into the light. Big Mac drank in every flourish of her shimmering purple mane, every nuance of her graceful step. Her dainty horn gleamed as if sculpted from deep-purple quartz, a glimpse of untold power pulsed in its depths.

As an Earth pony, Big Macintosh couldn’t perceive the arcane powers that surrounded Twilight Sparkle, them being as invisible to him as magnetism to a block of wood but, as a unicorn, the energy coming off Twilight seemed as bright as an arc lamp. It wasn’t something he saw with his eyes, but he knew it was there all the same.

Their eyes met and Big Mac’s heart raced for a golden moment before the mood turned sour. Twilight’s intelligent, inquisitive face soon darkened with a frown.

“Hello, Prince Blueblood,” she spoke evenly “So it was you in the square yesterday. What’re you doing here?”

Big Mac found himself more speechless now than he had ever been in his own body. She knew Blueblood? Damn that stuck up little weasel! He knew Twilight all along and didn’t warn him!

Twilight continued,

“It doesn’t matter, unless you’re here to check out a book or you’re in town to apologize to Rarity, I have nothing to say to you.”

“Twi, who’s there?” Spike scampered down from the floor above. The tiny purple dragonlet stopped in his tracks at the foot of the stairs. He, too, frowned upon recognizing their guest.

“Oh, hello ‘Your Highness,’” he said before turning up his nose and marching out the door.

Big Mac looked to Tombs for help. Tombs responded with a look that said, “Are you really so shocked?” before turning to Twilight.

“Forgive my master’s intrusion, miss, but we are, in fact, here to apologize to miss Rarity.”

Tombs looked Big Mac in the eye and gave an encouraging nod. Big Mac caught on.

“Er… Yes,” he said “Ah feel just bad about the way I acted.”

Tombs cleared his throat and Big Macintosh realized he was still speaking like the dumb hayseed he was pretending not to be. How would a fancy pony talk? The fanciest pony he knew was miss Rarity, so he did his best to imagine what she would say in this situation.

“I would deaaarly like to make amends,” he spoke in a half falsetto “Could you kindly direct me to her abode?”

Twilight apparently didn’t think there was anything strange about his affectation.

“She lives at the Carousel Boutique. Ask a pony in town and they can give you directions.” she turned up her nose and walked over to a stack of books. Turning her back deliberately, she levitated them with her magic and began shelving them. Big Mac didn’t leave, instead just watching her in silence.

After a few long seconds of Twilight pretending Big Macintosh wasn’t there, her resolve cracked and she spoke to him over her shoulder.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

“You really shine when you’re surrounded by books,” said Big Macintosh, speaking aloud the last sentence to pass through his mind. He realized what he’d said and quickly buttoned his lips. His words had disarmed her and the book she was shelving faltered in its path.

“Excuse me?” she frowned.

“Ah’m sorry… I mean… I’m sorry.” Big Mac took a deep breath. It was time to go for broke. He had the looks and the charm he always told himself he needed, if he couldn’t talk to her now, he might as well go back and hitch himself back up to the plow for the rest of his life.

“I just can’t believe it took me this long to talk to you.”

“We’ve spoken before.”

Big Macintosh wavered. He didn’t have any idea how well they’d known each other before although, judging by Blueblood’s character, probably not well.

“But… never as friends,” he offered.

“I’m not sure I’m that interested in what you would consider friendship, Blueblood. I’m not the kind of filly who gets loose after two drinks and some cheap pickup lines.”

“I’m interested-”

“Ha. The only thing you’re interested in is the contents of my pants… When I choose to wear pants, that is. Anyway…”

Big Mac’s eyes involuntarily shifted to Twilight’s backside before shifting back to her face. Twilight scowled and adjusted her tail to better cover her hindquarters.

“…Anyway I don’t need friends like you. Go apologize for being so rude to my real friend Rarity, then go back to Canterlot and stay there. ”

Twilight harrumphed and went back to shelving.

Big Macintosh looked down at Tombs, who was obviously deep in thought. No help there. His shoulders sagged and he turned to leave. Before walking out the door, he turned back to her.

"You may not need a friend like me, but I've always wanted a friend like you.”

Twilight rolled her eyes.

***

The door latched behind Blueblood and his valet as he left, leaving Twilight alone in the library. The nerve of that guy! He strikes out with Rarity so he just moves onto her? As if she’d ever fall for his cheesy lines.

“You really shine when you’re surrounded by books,” she mocked aloud in a whinier approximation of Blueblood’s voice.

“What a jerk.”

Still…

Why were her thighs all quivery?END OF PART IV

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter V

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part V

Big Mac sat down outside the library and hung his head with a heavy sigh. He’d blown his big chance at love… again. Or rather, Blueblood had blown it for him. There was nothing to do now but figure out how to get his body back so that he could spend the rest of his life plowing and harvesting.

Tombs cleared his throat. Once again, the dapper valet had made his approach completely undetected. Big Macintosh raised his ears to indicate he was listening, even if he didn’t feel like looking anypony in the eye at the moment.

“It is always darkest before the proverbial dawn, sir,” Tombs offered.

Big Mac just sighed again.

“Far be it for me to pry, sir,” Tombs began with practiced nonchalance “But does sir really care about this young mare?”

Big Mac nodded. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anypony… even Cherilee.

“Well then, if you’ll forgive the liberty, I am surprised sir is giving up so easily.”

Big Mac looked up. Tombs looked back, his expression as deadpan as ever, but there was encouraging warmth behind his eyes.

“You heard what she said. She doesn’t want anythin’ t’do with me.”

Tombs cleared his throat.

“If sir recalls, those weren’t her exact words. It seems that most of her animosity stems from something sir… sorry, something the Prince did to offend her good friend ‘Rarity’. If sir can make amends for that, it might alleviate some of her enmity.”

Big Macintosh considered this, but his shoulders sagged once more.

“How can I apologize for somethin’ I don’t even know I’ve done?”

Tombs allowed himself the slightest smile.

“Forgive me sir, but I flatter myself that I might be of some assistance in that regard. While the Prince may not remember the names of his dalliances after two years, or even two hours, I have kept detailed notes on all of them.”

Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow.

Tombs swallowed a self-conscious cough.

“Though the Prince doesn’t realize it, his behavior among the mares of Cantorlot causes quite a bit of turmoil in the court. I often find myself smoothing things over for him after the fact. Thorough record keeping is essential to the smooth functioning of the Prince’s life… and mine.”

Big Macintosh nodded. Tombs continued.

“If memory serves, Miss Rarity is the unicorn mare of impeccable taste and refinement that caused such a stir this last season in Canterlot. She is still the toast of the Cantorlot elite, though her favor has cooled somewhat since her sponsor, Fancypants discovered some disingenuity regarding the Wonderbolts’ trainer. Prior to that, she was at the center of some commotion during the last Grand Galloping Gala. It was the same week that the Prince made the ill-advised choice of reading I Hope They Serve Beer in Tartarus and took it into his head that the best way to entice a member of the fair sex was to behave a complete boor. Needless to say, the evening ended with disastrous consequences for both the Prince and Miss Rarity’s gown.”

“Her gown was ruined?” asked Big Mac, suddenly tense. Publicly humiliating Rarity was bad enough, but if Blueblood was responsible for ruining one of her beautiful gowns…

“Covered in cake, I believe,” finished Tombs.

Big Macintosh slumped to the ground. It was hopeless!

“No one has truly lost until they admit defeat,” said Tombs “If sir is going to pay Miss Rarity a visit, he should look presentable, and I fear that mares of Rarity’s caliber rarely look fondly on grass stains…”

Tombs coaxed Big Macintosh up off the ground and brushed the dust from his white coat and the grass clippings from his flank.

Big Macintosh nodded his thanks and the two of them headed back into town.

***

Big Macintosh and Tombs found Carousel Boutique open for business, but it wasn’t Rarity running the shop. A cream-colored Pegasus with a flowing pink mane paced the sales floor. She started at the sound of the door chime.

“W-welcome to Carousel Boutique!” she stuttered. The poor filly was obviously uncomfortable at the sight of not just one, but two strange ponies. Big Mac knew Fluttershy well enough to know how shy she was around longtime friends, much less strangers. He wanted to give her some kind of sign that it was all right, but worried that whatever he said would only increase her anxiety. He simply nodded a greeting.

Tombs stepped forward and doffed his bowler cap to the young filly.

“Good afternoon, miss. Please allow me to present Mr. Princeton Charmington.”

“Oh, hello,” she made little circles on the linoleum with her hoof and hid her face behind her long pink tresses.

“My master is looking for a miss Rarity. Is this her establishment?”

“No, er… yes… I mean. That is to say it is her shop but she’s not in.”

“Oh, dear. When do you expect her to return?”

Fluttershy squeaked a little and cast her eyes downward.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” Tombs leaned forward.

“She won’t be back tonight, she was called away by something urgent,” Fluttershy explained, her voice barely above a whisper “She asked me to mind the shop until closing time. I’m so sorry!”

Tombs took a step back.

“It’s quite all right miss...?”

“Murmur.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Fluttershy,” interjected Big Macintosh.

Fluttershy nodded, retreating further behind her bangs. Tombs turned back to her.

“Miss Fluttershy, did miss Rarity say where she was going?”

Fluttershy nodded and murmured something about a “soiree.”

“She went to a soiree?” asked Tombs, leaning in closer to hear.

Fluttershy nodded. She opened her mouth to add something, but then closed it after examining the newcomers a little more fully.

Big Macintosh caught Tombs’s eye and motioned for them to leave. If they stayed much longer, Fluttershy was liable to pass out. She was already shivering as if she’d stepped out of a cold shower and Big Macintosh couldn’t bear to put her through any more excitement.

Big Mac gave Fluttershy his warmest, most encouraging smile as he turned to leave. She shrank back from him, but managed a weak smile in return and even waggled a forehoof in goodbye at the pair after they turned around.

***

“What nice ponies.” Fluttershy said to herself “I’m not usually comfortable opening up like that. I hope I didn’t spoil their surprise…” She peeked out the window and watched them as they made their way up the boulevard. Once she was sure they were gone, she sighed a sigh of deep relief, checked over both shoulders and surreptitiously flipped the sign on the front window from “Open” to “Closed.”

***

“So, miss Rarity was apparently invited to a party of some kind,” mused Tombs “Do you know of any festivities going on?”

“Nnope,” Big Macintosh shook his head. He hadn’t heard of any party going on, but he knew who would know.

“If there’s a party goin’ on, it’s probably happenin’ at Sugarcube Corner,” he said, turning to lead the way. Tombs followed and before too long, the pair found themselves in front of a massive gingerbread house.

The architecture of Ponyville was as eclectic and multicolored as its populace and Sugarcube Corner was no exception. Built on a prime location looking out on the town common, there was no mistaking Sugarcube Corner as the go-to spot for sugary treats. The building itself looked good enough to eat! Pillars and posts painted like peppermint sticks supported a roof of gingerbread shingles and vanilla icing gutters. The whole affair was crowned by an immense strawberry cupcake whose promise of sugary goodness threatened to send even the most health conscious ponies into diabetic comas. It’s no wonder Ponyville’s premier party pony, Pinkie Pie, principally preferred it as the playground of the perpetual party that was her life.

Unfortunately, there was no party and no Pinkie Pie. Mr. Cake, the shop’s proprietor, was very sorry but he was already closing up for the day and maybe if they tried back tomorrow they would have better luck. He shooed the pair out the door and locked and bolted it behind them.

Tombs brushed the dust from Big Mac’s coat and then this own.

Most of the other shops on the town common were closing early, too. The novelty shop was already shuttered tight while the Aloe and Lotus, the beautician twins, drew the curtains across the front windows of the Ponyville Day Spa.

“Sir, is this normal behavior for shopkeepers in Ponyville?” he asked.

Big Macintosh shook his head. He was flummoxed. The midday siesta was long over and on a normal day these would be peak business hours. Seeing Aloe and Lotus did give him a spark of hope, however. Big Mac crossed the square and nosed open the door of the Day Spa.

***

The bell above the door chimed as Big Macintosh and Tombs stepped into the darkened lobby of the spa. The only light came from a pair of gas lamps behind the counter and the eerie quiet was punctuated by the babbling of several fountains. Aloe and Lotus were nowhere to be seen. Tombs seemed apprehensive at the idea of walking right into the spa when its owners were obviously closing up.

“Sir, is it quite likely that miss Rarity would be here of all places?”

In answer, Big Macintosh pointed to the “List of Services Available” behind the counter. Item number seven was simply “The Rarity (120 Bits).”

Tombs mouthed a silent “Oh.”

Both pricked up their ears to the sound of hoofsteps from the back room behind the counter and Aloe’s voice (or was it Lotus?) drifting around the corner.

“Yes, I’m sure it was the bell,” she said in her curious, angular accent.

Somepony else said something inaudible.

“No we cancelled all the appointments for this evening,” she said over her shoulder as she stepped into view.

It was Aloe, her vivid pink coat was bright even in the dim light and it stood in eye scorching contrast to her fluorescent blue mane and tail.

“I’m sorry gentlecolts, we are closiieeeyowza!” she exclaimed once she got a good look at Big Macintosh.

Big Mac started and took a step back. Aloe was positively vibrating with energy, she squealed and called back to her sister in an excited tangle of foreign syllables. She was answered by another, apparently incredulous string of syllables that kicked off a completely incomprehensible argument that lasted several exchanges before Aloe disappeared into the back room.

Big Mac turned to Tombs.

“What was all that noise?” he asked.

“If sir is inquiring as to what language they were speaking, I believe it was Manipuri, although I’m not fluent in that particular dialect. They did seem to indicate that they recognized you, sir.”

Big Mac just stared.

“Before my tenure with his highness, I served in the Princess’s Royal Armored Cavalry and did two tours in Manipuria. I might have picked up a word or two…”

Tombs trailed off as Aloe returned to the desk, trailed by her sister, Lotus. Lotus was the spitting image of her sister, except her coat was blue and her mane was pink. Both looked at Big Macintosh with awe.

“Oh, your highness! This is really a great honor!” said Lotus, avoiding a smug look from Aloe.

“Yes, we are overjoyed that you should patronize our humble establishment,” added Aloe.

The pair bowed deeply before breaking into excited squeals like a couple of fillies at a Backstreet Colts concert.

“We were just closing up, but of course we can stay open to service you, your majesty!” Lotus offered.

Tombs stepped forward “We’re most grateful, but that’s not-”

Aloe cut him off, grabbing a magazine from a stack by the counter in her mouth and shoving it in Big Macintosh’s face.

“You were amazing in last month’s Narcissist Fair!” she said, holding the book open to a glossy, two page spread of Prince Blueblood lounging on a crimson divan and sporting a smart black bowtie.

“To say nothing of your appearance in PlayMare!” Lotus chimed in. A centerfold page flapped down from the magazine she carried in her mouth. It appeared to be Prince Blueblood in the exact same pose on the exact same divan, only in this image the bowtie was absent. Lotus blushed, the red in her cheeks standing out visibly through her blue coat. Blueblood’s impish grin leered up from the centerfold at Big Macintosh. He felt a little sick…

“Ohh, those hooves! That mane!” cooed Aloe.

“That Coat! That horn!” swooned Lotus.

“I could do such things with that mane that the world has never seen!”

“Please just give us a few hours! You will leave this place shining like Celestia herself!”

Big Mac backed away from the starstruck fillies.

“Ladies, please,” he said, letting his princely accent slip “Ah’m just here lookin’ fer Rarity.”

The twins deflated like balloons.

“Of course,” sighed the sisters, together.

“Miss Rarity has not been here today,” said Aloe.

“Do you know where she might be?” asked Tombs.

“Oh, no doubt she will be at the-” Lotus was interrupted by a hasty jab thrown by her sister.

The pair bickered in Manipuri before going silent and casting a hasty glance back at Big Mac.

Aloe narrowed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, your highness. Where did you say you were staying?”

“Sweet Apple Acres.” Big Mac answered.

The twins conferred again before turning back to Big Mac and Tombs.

“We’re sorry. We don’t know where she is. You will have to stop by another time!” said Aloe, planting her forehead on Big Mac’s shoulder and pushing as hard as she could. Big Mac let her scootch him back out the door. Tombs let himself out.

“Thank you, come again!” called Lotus. They slammed the door and Big Mac and Tombs heard the distinct sound of bolts being drawn.

“Curiouser and curiouser…” mused Tombs.

Big Macintosh sat down on the cobblestones and heaved another heavy sigh. What was going on?

Tombs sidles up next to him and looked up past the thatched roofs of Ponyville at the clock tower. It was nearly three thirty.

“Sir, while I recognize your personal investment in finding miss Rarity, might I recommend a temporary detour to the train station?” asked Tombs

Big Mac gave Tombs a quizzical look.

“The Prince’s luggage is still waiting to be claimed and with the shops all closing at this early hour, there is no guarantee the station will remain open either,” Tombs continued “the Prince’s ‘necessities’ comprise a fairly comprehensive inventory. I fear the fees for storing it will quickly become prohibitive, particularly if the Prince stays true to his vow never to accept another cent of allowance from her Majesty, Celestia...”

Big Macintosh looked up and down the square, his eyes straining as if he expected to see Rarity’s elegant purple tail disappearing into a shop or down a boulevard.

Tombs spoke up again.

“Sometimes the best cure for frustration is to withdraw and recuperate. I expect miss Rarity will turn up when you least expect it, sir.”

Big Macintosh nodded and numbly followed Tombs up to the train station.

***

The stationmaster was overjoyed to see Tombs and Big Mac when they knocked on his door. The Station was little more than a raised wooden platform and office on the edge of town and the Prince had brought with him a caravan’s worth of bags and suitcases that nearly crowded everypony out of the building. Tombs paid the storage fees and secured the help of a few porters while Big Mac arranged for transportation back to Sweet Apple Acres.

The sun was dipping behind the hills as the carriage bearing a sullen Big Macintosh, Tombs and half a ton of matching luggage trundled up the dirt road to the farm.

After such an exhausting, disappointing and frankly just out and out crazy day, Big Macintosh wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bed and feel sorry for himself for the rest of the evening. He nudged open the door to the barn. Applejack had already snuffed the lamps for the night and the sky was brooding and overcast, so naturally he didn’t see the cannon until it was right in front of his face.

Wait. Cannon?

The explosion of confetti shrapnel blasted Big Macintosh straight out through the barn doors and onto his back. In the barn, lights blazed and a pink blob bounced in his direction through the settling cloud of streamers. Through a haze of tinnitus he heard a high-pitched voice squeal:

“Were you surprised!?”End of Part 5

To be continued…

Chapter VI

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part VI

“Were you surprised?” the pink blob asked again.

Big Macintosh blinked his eyes until they could focus again. Gradually the pink blob resolved itself into Pinkie Pie, grinning wide and fluttering her eyelashes expectantly.

“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.

Pinkie Pie snorted out a few giggles.

“You sound just like Big Macintosh! I can’t wait for you to meet him! Oh but I bet you must have already met him, huh? What with you staying at Sweet Apple Acres and all. Does he make your thighs turn to jelly, too? You know what my favorite kind of jelly is? Don’t make me choose! Oh gosh…”

A small gaggle of ponies filtered out of the barn behind Pinkie Pie and gathered around. Tombs helped Big Mac to right himself as the crowd closed in.

“…which I guess is a long way of saying welcome to Ponyville!” Pinkie Pie cheered.

A great hurrah rose up from inside the barn as the Welcoming Committee swept Big Macintosh and Tombs back inside.

The barn was bright and alive with ponies from all over town. A broad banner hung from the edge of the loft, proclaiming in bright letters:

WELCOME TO PONYVILLE,

PRINCETON CHARMINGTON AND TOMBSTONE!

Beneath it, a delicious smorgasbord of savory pastries and treats from Sugarcube Corner stretched from wall to wall. It looked like the Cakes had emptied their entire shop for this spread. Pinkie Pie leapt up on the buffet table, kicking aside a tureen of custard and nearly treading on a platter of apple danishes. She balanced on her hind legs and raised her forehooves to the crowd.

“Everypony, I’m pleased as punch to announce the arrival of Princeton Charmington and Tombstone! They’re staying with the Apple family during their visit, so let’s honor them and welcome them to Ponyville!”

The barn rumbled with the clatter of hooves as everypony stamped and cheered their new arrivals. Applejack let out an energetic “Yeee Haw!” while Fluttershy whispered a slightly more conservative “Yay.”

In spite of actually having been a lifetime resident of Ponyville, Big Mac couldn’t help but smile at the warm welcome. Tombs doffed his cap and bowed graciously at the crowd. Big Macintosh opened his mouth to thank everypony, but before he could make a sound, Pinkie Pie leaped off the craft table and zipped out of sight. She returned in a flash bearing gift baskets for Big Macintosh and Tombs.

“Rarity had the great idea to put these together for you guys! We all pitched in. Nopony was sure what you liked, so there’s a little bit of everything!” she grinned, presenting a small basket to each of them.

There certainly was. The baskets overflowed with chocolate bars, coupon books, travel sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, horn wax, massage oil, scented candles, pencils advertising local businesses (Impress your filly every night, Zecora’s herbs will start you off right!)…

“Balloons!” added Pinkie pie, tugging a party pack of balloons out of the basket with her mouth.

And much more, besides!

“You said Miss Rarity put these together?” asked Tombs, using his magic to set the basket aside.

“Yeah! She also helped with the decorations!” Pinkie gestured at the banner and sparkly ribbons that festooned the walls and rafters. Rarity’s knack for design managed to make even the simple interior of the Apple Family barn look posh.

“Is she still here?”

“She should be around, I’m surprised she hasn’t already swung around to welcome you guys to Ponyville.”

“And I’m surprised that even you could sink so low!” Rarity was standing in the entrance to the barn, her flank halfway out in the cold darkness. Her accusation skewered the ebullient mood and sent the crowd into a tizzy of shocked murmurs. Pinkie Pie gasped and dashed over to the phonograph player and kicked it so that the needle scratched off the record.

Big Macintosh and Tombs stood in the center of the silence.

Twilight Sparkle walked out of the darkness and took her place at Rarity’s side.

“I rushed over as soon as I heard about the party,” Twilight explained “I couldn’t stand by and let everypony be deceived! You’re all here to welcome ‘Princeton Charmington’ and ‘Tombstone’ to Ponyville, but these two aren’t who they claim to be!”

“That’s right!” Rarity chimed in “They are Prince Blueblood and… somepony who is probably also an impostor!”

The susurrus of murmurs increased in volume. The guests began to stir and paw at the ground.

Tombs bowed low to the crowd.

“Tombs, gentlecolt’s gentlecolt, at your service.”

“Save it!” shot Twilight “Prince Blueblood, why are you here and what’s the meaning of this deception!?”

Big Mac was speechless. He gave Tombs a pleading look. Tombs looked up at him, a strange sort of triumph dancing in his eyes.

“Sir, you couldn’t ask for a better opportunity to make a meaningful apology to Miss Rarity,” Tombs whispered “A private apology is one thing, but a public apology is certain to impress not only her, but Miss Sparkle as well.”

Big Mac looked back up at his accusers. Twilight’s face smoldered with righteous anger. Rarity’s delicate body trembled with indignance. He turned around to face the crowd. They stepped back from him. Uneasy. Unsure. What was happening? Many hadn’t heard or didn’t fully understand. Something exciting was going on.

Big Mac cleared his throat.

“Everything they just said is true,” he spoke slowly so as not to overplay his aristocratic accent “I am Prince Blueblood.”

The crowd gasped. Twilight and Rarity smiled smugly.

“I didn’t mean to deceive y’all,” he broke his poise and coughed loudly “Sorry. I haven’t meant to hurt anypony. I was only in disguise because I didn’t want special treatment on account of my aunt being the Royal Princess and all…”

Tombs cleared his throat ever so softly. Big Mac straightened up a bit. He told himself that he wasn’t lying per se. From what he gathered, this really was why the Prince had come to Ponyville.

“I came here to turn over a new leaf. Maybe I’m a prince, but I haven’t been very charming and there’s somepony here I owe an extra special apology to…”

This time, Rarity gasped. The fire of Twilight’s anger began to fade, doused by surprise.

Big Mac turned around and looked Rarity in the eyes.

“Miss Rarity…” he began “I behaved horribly at the Grand Galloping gala. I’m sorry I was rude to you and I’m sorry I humiliated you and I’m very, very sorry I ruined your dress. I’m not worthy of your company.”

Big Mac bowed low and touched his horn to the ground. Rarity’s eyes glistened with tears. Twilight could only stammer; her big bust was turning out to be… well… a bust.

Big Mac raised his head from the ground, keeping it low “Do you forgive me, Miss Rarity?”

Rarity sniffed back her tears, doing her best to disguise it as a demeaning snort. It was a beautiful dress! Maybe one of the most beautiful dresses she’d ever made and she could only wear it for one night and it was ruined!

Rarity drew herself up to her most imperious posture, glaring down her nose at Big Macintosh.

She took a step forward.

“You behaved like an absolute lout!”

“I’m sorry.”

Another step.

“You humiliated me!”

“I’m sorry.”

Another step.

“You ruined my evening!”

“I’m sorry.”

She towered over him.

“You ruined my dress!”

“I’m very sorry.” Big Mac looked right up into her eyes. Her expression melted.

“I forgive you.”

She touched her horn to his and he felt a warm spark course through him. It wasn’t telepathy, but he suddenly knew she really forgave him... well, the Prince. They rose together and turned to face the crowd. Tombs nodded his approval. The crowd cheered.

Pinkie Pie wiped away her tears with a trembling hoof. She sniffled, then reached over and clasped a pull cord between her forehooves.

“Well, now we can get this party kicked off right!” she grinned and yanked on the cord.

An air horn blasted and a blizzard of confetti dropped from the ceiling onto the crowd. At the same time, a new banner unfurled from the rafters proclaiming:

WELCOME TO PONYVILLE,

PRINCE BLUEBLOOD AND TOMBSTONE(?)!

The crowd cheered again and somepony started the music again. In a few seconds, the barn was one again filled with the warm sounds of laughter and dancing.

Tombs trotted over to Pinkie Pie.

“Miss Pie, did you really have that banner prepared beforehand?”

“Yup!” she beamed with pride.

“How did you know about the Prince?”

“Because he was at the Grand Galloping Gala when I was there! Doy! Plus, he was at the hospital later when I was getting stitches in my lip for smashing my face into Applejack’s apple cart. He was crying and insisting he had Pee Tee Ess Dee!” she giggled.

Tombs didn’t betray any amusement at the idea, but he did allow himself the most fleeting moment of schadenfreude at the image.

“If you knew all along, why didn’t you tell everypony who we were?”

Pinkie giggled again “Because! That would’ve spoiled the dramatic reveal!”

Tombs raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, and sorry about the banner,” said Pinkie “but I didn’t get your real name for sure until just a few minutes ago!”

“It’s quite alright, Miss Pie.”

“Call me Pinkie! All my friends do!” she snorted.

“I appreciate the gesture, Miss Pie, but it would be improper.”

“Well that’s silly!”

While Tombs did his best to explain the rules of propriety to Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle trotted up alongside Big Macintosh at the buffet table. Big Mac hadn’t eaten all day, and he was stuffing himself when Twilight appeared.

“Prince Blueblood...”

Big Mac almost choked on a ginger snap. He exploded into a fit of coughing that showered Twilight with wet crumbs.

“Oh gosh! I-I’m so sorry!” stammered Big Mac, catching his breath.

Twilight magicked a napkin from the buffet table and dabbed the crumbs from her face.

“It’s my fault, really.” Twilight tossed the napkin away.

Big Mac shuffled his hooves and looked at the ground. Twilight couldn’t help but smile at his bashfulness, even if were so jarringly out of character from the Blueblood she knew.

“That was a very mature apology you made,” said Twilight.

Big Mac shuffled again, but smiled.

“When you came by the library today and said you wanted to be my friend, I didn’t believe you. You’ve been a jerk for as long as I’ve known you.”

Big Mac sighed. Thanks for setting me up for success, Blueblood.

“But that wasn’t a jerk I saw back there. Admitting you’re wrong is one of the hardest things in the world to do. If you’re able to do that, then you’ve already taken a big step towards learning what it is to be a good friend.”

Big Mac perked up his ears and looked up at Twilight.

“I’d be proud to accept you as my pupil… and my friend.” Twilight smiled and extended her forehoof. Big Macintosh took it and shook it. His massive hoof eclipsed her petit one like a dinner plate covering a coin.

“Lessons start tomorrow at eight. Meet me at the library.”

Big Macintosh nodded. He was so happy he thought he would explode.

His stomach growled and he remembered he was starving.

***

Ponies continued to trickle in as the night went on. Aloe and Lotus showed up late because they’d spent the evening rounding up everypony in town who decided not to come and telling them that the party was really for Prince Blueblood. A prince and his valet made for much more interesting party guests than two random ponies, and it wasn’t long before the Apple family barn was packed wall to wall with ponies dancing, laughing and making themselves at home. Big Mac found himself shaking hooves all night, with barely any chance to break away and talk to Twilight.

***

“These folks better not stomp all over my fields is all Ah’m sayin’,” grumbled Applejack, surveying the throng of party ponies. She frowned at a blue Pegasus who had obviously just returned from using the upstairs bathroom.

A team of colts was busily hauling a massive pair of tower speakers and a DJ turntable up the hill toward the barn while a couple of unicorn electricians were checking the connections of a track of colored spotlights hastily fixed to an overhead beam. The night was looking to spiral out of control in a hurry.

“I’m more worried about what we’re gonna feed them all!” said Pinkie Pie “The buffet’s been picked clean and there’s still more ponies showing up! Nopony wants to hang out at a party with nothing to eat!”

Tombs shimmered up alongside Pinkie Pie and cleared his throat.

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance, ma’m.”

“Oh? Do you know where to get some more food at this hour? Because Applejack already told me we weren’t allowed to pick any of the apples or the vegetables in the garden or go into the refrigerator or the chest freezer,” Pinkie Pie began to think hard of what else Applejack owned that she might have overlooked.

“Not food, ma’m.”

“Then what?”

“Many’s the faltering party that’s been saved by the liberal presence of free libations.”

“Free what?”

“Drinks.”

“What’s there to drink? We already ran out of punch, silly! And cider season’s not for another seven months! All we have left is juice!”

“As luck may have it, among the Prince’s luggage is his rather expansive drinks cabinet. With a little help, I can get it set up and maybe sustain the party for another hour or so at least.”

Pinkie and Tombs grabbed a couple of colts and unloaded the heavy drinks cabinet from the cart outside. The cabinet was massive; at least twice Tombs’s height and finished in dark faux leather, like the upended steamer trunk of a giant. It rattled heavily with the sound of dozens of bottles and decanters brimming with liquor. They got it inside and Tombs opened the latches.

The cabinet unfolded like a traveling showpony’s wagon. As Tombs and Pinkie watched, a gleaming city of crystal bottles rose to meet them. The interior of the cabinet was all fine mahogany. The tools and shakers and strainers were sterling silver. Tombs trotted around and settled behind the little fold up table. He allowed himself a smug smile as he magicked up some bottles and a shaker. In the blink of an eye, he’d whipped up a gin and tonic. Tombs passed the glass to Pinkie, who took a big whiff before gagging theatrically.

“Phhheew!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie “Did you know there’s alcohol in this?”

“The finest gin in Canterlot,” he answered.

Pinkie spluttered.

“But! I’ve never served liquor at any of my parties!”

Tombs raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. That’s Pinkie Pie’s first rule of parties!”

Pinkie Pie’s Rules of Parties

1. BALLOONS!!

2. Good music is the heartbeat of the party!

3. There is no rule 3.

4. You can never plan a good party, only prepare.

5. If your guests need to be drunk to have a good time, you’re doing it wrong.

“Sorry,” amended Pinkie Pie “That was the fifth rule I guess. I think the first rule is balloons.”

“What about balloons?”

(1. BALLOONS!!)

“Just Balloons.”

“Well… I understand your fear that alcoholic beverages are often used as a crutch by lazy hosts, but a judicious application of liquor can be a great social lubricant. In moderation it enhances the mood and breaks down social barriers.”

“I don’t know…” Pinkie Pie cast another suspicious look at the tumbler of gin and tonic.

“If you drink until you’re drunk, then you’re missing the point of alcohol. All it really does is act as the catalyst for the ultimate sugar high.”

“Ultimate sugar high? No way! I know everything about sugar!”

“Then you know that your liver stores thousands of calories worth of sugar reserves and when you drink liquor it dumps all those reserves into your bloodstream at once.”

“Huh. How do you know so much about alcohol?”

Tombs smiled.

“Well, one hates to brag, but I would expect I should, considering it’s my special talent.”

Tombs lifted the end of his tailcoat so that Pinkie could see the silver martini shaker emblazoned on his flank.

“Ohhh, I thought it was a vase or something. Like you were really good at polishing vases.”

Tombs made an amused sound that was as close to a laugh as propriety would allow.

“Most ponies think that because my name is ‘Tombs’ that it’s a picture of an urn.”

“Oh yeah! That makes a lot more sense. Are you sure it’s not an urn?”

“Fairly sure, ma’m.”

“You would know, I guess,” Pinkie looked down at the glass of gin and tonic like it was going to bite her.

“You sure it’s okay?” she asked.

“Quite sure.”

“Okay… bottoms up!” Pinkie bit the edge of the glass in her teeth and drained the whole tumbler into her mouth in one swig.

“It’s really more of a sipping beverage…” Tombs started to say.

Too late.

Pinkie’s eyes bulged and her cheeks puffed out. She gritted her teeth and twitched, all the while a steady whine, like the whistle of a boiling kettle, built up behind her nostrils.

“Miss Pie, are you…”

Pinkie’s body locked as rigid as an iron statue. She howled like the blast of a steam whistle before launching straight up into the air, ricocheting off a rafter and flying into the crowd, bouncing off the walls like a superball.

A purple pony with a cluster of grapes and a strawberry for her cutie mark approached the drinks table.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” she said.

Tombs broke out another gin and tonic. Behind him, Pinkie Pie did a triple front flip out of the loft into a pile of hay.

***

“Everypony! Stomp your hooves for… DEE JAY PON THREEEEEEEEEEE!”

The audience cheered and stamped wildly. There was a whir of smoke machines and the air around the turntable filled with mist.

DJ-PON3 stepped out of the smoke and raised her hooves to the crowd, which cheered and stamped. She was a white unicorn, lean and svelte. She wore her blue mane cropped short. The colored lights on her mirrored sunglasses made her eyes look like psychedelic kaleidoscopes of swirling color. Twin streams of blue magic shot from her horn and energized the turntables. She popped a needle on the first record and a thrumming bass beat rattled the windowpanes and jarred apples off the trees outside.

Everypony was so distracted by the show that Big Mac could finally slip away to look for Twilight. He found Applejack first. She was guarding the door to the upstairs.

“Blueblood!” she shouted over the deafening bass.

Big Mac leaned in close so he could hear her.

“Have you seen Big Macintosh around? I caught Berry throwin’ up in our bathroom and then wipin’ her mouth on Granny Smith’s guest towels! I could really use his help keepin’ an eye on everypony!”

As she spoke, a colt and his giggling filly friend tried to sneak behind her. Applejack glared at them and they scampered away. She looked back at Big Mac with a “see what I mean?” expression.

Big Mac nodded. Applejack raised a good point. He hadn’t seen his body all night.

Tombs hadn’t seen him either. Big Mac got up on the skeletonized buffet table and scanned the dancing crowd. A pony his size should have stuck out like a sore thumb, but the Prince wasn’t in the barn.

Big Macintosh stepped out into the cold. After the heavy, pounding rhythm of the barn, the outdoors seemed deathly still, even with what sounded like a muffled earthquake throbbing just a few feet away. A small cluster of other ponies loitered outside, grabbing some fresh air or quiet conversation. A few waved drunken greetings to him as he passed and he nodded back. A couple necked around the far corner while somepony else leaned into the bushes to vomit.

Blueblood was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t seen the Prince since yelling at him out in the field that morning.

Big Mac shook his head. Could he be… no… there was no way…

He set off down the path to the East field. The music and light of the barn faded into the trees behind him until it was dark and quiet.

It was no trouble for Big Mac to find his way to the East Field. He’d been down to the field before sunup more times than he could remember, and made the trip back after sunset almost as often. The thick cloud cover that had obscured the moon was gone now. In the sky, the dark shapes of the night shift Pegasi flitted high overhead removing the last of the lonely clouds.

Big Macintosh rounded the hillock that obscured the East Field from the path and looked out across the dark furrows.

The Prince had plowed the whole field. Inexpertly. The furrows were sloppy and the grass around the edges was torn and scuffed where the Prince had turned the plow around, but it was done. The blade of the plow glinted in the moonlight and Big Mac made his way over, nearly stepping on his body as he moved in for a closer look.

The Prince was asleep, the yoke still tied up to the plow. He must not have known how to remove it without magic and given up. Blueblood stirred and whimpered slightly, shivering against the cold night air. Big Mac undid the reigns with his magic and then reached out with it to move the Prince.

Trying to lift the prince was like trying to grasp a cactus. The life force that streamed from Blueblood shifted and prickled against his powers and Big Mac worried he’d done something wrong. He tested his powers on a nearby rock and found them working perfectly fine. With a little more practice, Big Mac would learn that lifting inanimate objects was easy, but moving matter that had a mind of its own was quite a bit more tricky. For now, though, Blueblood would just have to move himself.

Big Mac nudged Blueblood awake. Blueblood blinked in the darkness and panicked briefly in disorientation. Big Mac placed a calming hoof on the Prince’s shoulder and guided the weary pony back up the path to the barn.

***

Blueblood didn’t speak during the walk back to the barn. He was too tired. The whole day seemed like a frightful nightmare and this was only another dream. Stumbling back to the barn in the darkness. It wasn’t until they cleared the orchard and could hear the music coming from the barn that he started to realize he was awake.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His own face looked back at him and he experienced a moment of vertigo before remembering he wasn’t in his body any more. He wished he were. This body ached all over. He could barely move!

“It’s a party for you,” explained Big Macintosh.

Blueblood blinked.

“Do they know I’m not there?”

“Nnope.”

“Oh, right,” Blueblood said through a terrific yawn “I guess I shall have to make an appearance.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, first.”

“Okay…” Blueblood leaned against Big Mac and let him guide him inside to the warmth and light and music.

Inside, Pinkie Pie was up in front of the turntable, gripping the mic between her hooves and leading the audience in the chorus of Aerosmith’s Pink.

“Pink, it was love at first sight!” she bellowed. The crowd sang along.

Big Mac and Blueblood crossed the hay-covered floor of the barn where little pebbles jumped in time with the beat.

“I get Pink when I turn out the light!”

Applejack trotted over.

“And Pink gets me high as a kite!”

“Big Mac, thank Celestia you’re here! Where you been?”

Big Mac gestured in the direction of the East field.

“And I think everything is going to be alright no matter what we do tonight!”

Applejack understood. Somehow. This Prince feller was almost as good at sayin’ a lot while sayin’ nuthin’as Big Mac was.

Big Macintosh helped Blueblood upstairs and tugged of his yoke before putting him in bed. Blueblood folded up like a foal and was soon deep asleep in spite of the shuddering bass that shook dust from the cracks in the ceiling.

Big Mac went downstairs and took Applejack’s place minding the stairs while she went off to help clear away the buffet tables.

Pinkie Pie did a stage dive off the edge of the turntable and crowd surfed back over to Tombs.

And so, the night wound down with Big Macintosh looking after the house while Blueblood slept and Tombs worked through a party held in their honor. The sky was brightening in the east when the last guest left and Fluttershy came to collect Rainbow Dash, who was snoring up in the rafters, her rainbow mane stinking like rum and cola.

Big Mac staggered up to his room and flopped to sleep on the straw pallet in the center of his room. A few minutes later, Applejack peeked her head in the door.

“Thanks for yer help tonight,” she said “When Big Macintosh wakes up, tell him he can sleep in. Ah don’t need him out in the fields today. When he feels up to it, he can go mind the apple stand out in town.”

Big Mac nodded and closed his eyes.End of Part 6

To be continued…

Chapter VII

The Prince and the Workhorse
Part VII

Dear Princess Celestia,
Last night, I learned an important lesson: you shouldn’t necessarily be afraid to give somepony a second chance. Everypony makes mistakes. Sometimes they make big mistakes, but you can’t judge somepony’s entire character based on one interaction with them.
Since my humiliation at the Grand Galloping Gala two years ago, I’ve thought your nephew, Prince Blueblood, to be a total ruffian with no redeeming qualities. Last night, however, he made the most noble and humble apology I have ever received. In front of everypony at the party, he apologized for his behavior and admitted what he did was unacceptable. I felt simply horrid for snubbing him during my visits to Canterlot when all he wanted was to make amends.
From now on, I will reserve judgment on an individual until I have more experience with them and not base my entire relationship on what could very well have been a single bad night.

Your Friend,
Rarity

Princess Celestia raised the gilded porcelain teacup to her lips and sipped quietly as she read the letter again.

“Hm,” she said.

Princess Luna had returned from drawing back shroud of night. She breakfasted on sliced cucumbers and asparagus.

“What’s ‘hm?’” she asked.

They dined across from each other at a small table in the White Room, whose gleaming alabaster walls were so pure white that Celestia was nearly invisible while Luna appeared as dark as a pool of ink.

Celestia looked up from the letter at her sister. The motion of her head sent a delayed ripple down her varicolored mane, which flowed and shifted as if underwater; caressed by the wind of an alien time and place. It shimmered constantly with the light of a distant sun. If you pressed your muzzle to Celestia’s mane and breathed deep, it would bear the faint but unmistakable perfume of roses. Millions of roses. A vast, blood-red sea of roses that stretched from horizon to horizon. So strange and yet, so familiar. Standing in the center of the field, like a graphite line drawn against the sky is a…

You should probably stop smelling Celestia’s mane at this point.

Celestia folded the letter and set it next to the toast rack. A silent serving unicorn glided up to the table to refill her tea.

“Our Nephew appears to be behaving quite out of character,” said Celestia.

“Oh?”

Luna’s mane flowed and shifted as well. Each crystalline hair appeared transparent on its own, but together, they acted as a lens that bent light at right angles to spacetime. Her mane was a window into a limitless dark pool of stars and galaxies. Looking into her flowing locks induced a distressing vertigo in most observers as one’s eyes tried to focus at once on the distant stars and on the more nearby wall behind them. Her mane smelled like ultraviolet light and starstuff, which to mortal noses was indistinguishable from cantaloupes.

“Yes,” answered Celestia “Apparently he made a very nice apology to Rarity yesterday.”

“That’s nice… who’s Rarity?”

“One of Twilight’s friends. The white unicorn.”

“We haven’t met.”

“She’s very pretty, very well spoken.”

Celestia took another sip of tea and returned to her morning’s correspondence. Luna shifted her weight from one haunch to another.

“Maybe we should invite him back,” she suggested after several seconds of silence “I’m not really that upset about the board game.”

Celestia didn’t look up.

“He’s welcome to come back any time he wants. I haven’t banished him…”

At “banished” there was a clatter of porcelain and Celestia looked up.

The saucer under Luna’s teacup brimmed with tea. Two brown spots bloomed in the tablecloth like a pair of roses.

“So… how was your night?” asked Celestia.

The serving unicorn sidled up to the table and dabbed at the spill with a washcloth.

“Uh, it was busy,” said Luna.

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes, the Satin Veil of Eternity snagged on Signus Beta and unraveled a huge tear in the firmament. The First Response Pegasi were very quick in putting up an overcast. Nopony was at risk of gazing into the Maddening Abyss for more than a few minutes. It took a few hours, but luckily I was able to reweave it before we lost any stars.”

“That is lucky. Sounds like you had a busy night.”

“Yes,” said Luna, getting up “If thou wouldst excuse me, sister, I think I shall retire now.”

“Sleep well…”

Luna had already turned to leave. Her hoofsteps continued to echo down the hall after she was out of sight. The serving unicorn gathered up her plates as silently as a shadow.

Celestia looked back down at Rarity’s letter.

***

Tombs awoke in the darkness of the Apple Family pantry. He’d rolled off his sleeping bag during the night, and the hard floor put a crick in his back.

“Mmh” something moved in the darkness next to him.

Tombs jolted wide awake and cast a quick light spell. The glow from his horn illuminated a pair of big, cornflower blue eyes just inches in front of his face.

“Aaah!” yelped Pinkie Pie.

“Aaah!” yelped Tombs, leaping to his hooves and clattering against the shelves on the far wall of the pantry.

“Not so bright with the horn!” Pinkie groused “My head feels like a one-pony band… and not in a good way!”

“M-m-miss Pie, what are you doing here?” stammered Tombs.

“Ah ah ah! Not so formal. You have to call me Pinkie, now! Especially after last night.”

“Oh sweet Celestia…”

It was all starting to come back now.

“How could you forget?” asked Pinkie “Last night was wild! What was that one position called again?”

Tombs tried to swallow, but his throat was dry.

“…Missionary,” he choked.

“Yeah, that one! Doing it face to face? That’s crazy! Those missionaries were some kinky cookies!”

Tombs shivered and tried to regain his composure.

“Miss Pie-”

“Pinkie!”

“Erruhhh… Pinkie… My most sincere and abject apologies...”

Pinkie snorted back a giggle.

“Don’t be sorry! I had a good time! Didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what must have come over me…”

“I know what came over me! Remember last night? I told you I would do whatever it took to get you to call me Pinkie and you said it would never happen and we argued back and forth and finally I talked you into a drinking contest and if I won you’d have to call me Pinkie from then on!”

Tombs remembered.

“But… I won that contest…”

“By my count, we both won! Probably three or four times!”

Tombs sat down. This was all too much. Pinkie leaned forward and nuzzled his neck.

“Come on! I know what’ll turn that frown upside down!”

“Thank you Miss…”

Pinkie narrowed her eyes.

“…Pinkie,” he finished “But I’m really not in the mood…”

Pinkie looked shocked.

“Not in the mood for breakfast? I’m starving!”

***

Rainbow Dash was starving. Her stomach growled angrily and no matter how much she tossed and turned, its insistent grumbles finally got the best of her. Her eyes creaked open.

This quilt is too heavy she thought.

Wait, I don’t have a quilt…

Rainbow fell out of bed and onto the floor with a heavy “thud.” This wasn’t her bed! This wasn’t her house! She recognized it though.

“Ohmygosh…” she whispered and peeked up over the edge of the bed. Fluttershy snored quietly on top of the blankets, sunbeams streamed through the windows onto her face. She sneezed ever so gracefully and rolled over to her other side.

“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh…” Rainbow dropped to the floor and buried her face in her hooves. Waking up next to her best friend after a wild night she couldn’t remember? It was flight school all over again! What had she done? Had anypony seen them together?

She racked her brain, but last night was just a blur of shots and a lot of shouting at the DJ that she needed to be “twenty percent louder.” She didn’t remember leaving the party or the trip to Fluttershy’s cottage. She didn’t remember… doing anything. Maybe they didn’t! Maybe it was fine… but then again she couldn’t remember not doing anything either…

Oh, why did this have to happen to her?

Equestrian society, despite being largely heteronormative, was very accepting of same-sex relationships, and Rainbow Dash was in no danger of prejudicial behavior on the part of her friends or coworkers.

Still though…

Ponies, even those that were longtime friends, looked at you differently when they learned you were gay. You were suddenly no better than a stranger of the opposite sex. You weren’t “safe” to be around anymore. Were you just looking over at me or where you checking me out? All this time we were hanging out, were you fantasizing about having sex with me?

She had such a great relationship with her friends, she didn’t know if she could stand it if they all suddenly started treating her differently because they thought she was a lesbian.

Fillyfooler.

But she wasn’t gay!

No way.

She liked colts. She’d never been with one (or anypony) but she thought they were sexy. The way they… had… dangly parts… and stuff. How could she not? The bigger the better, right?

Fluttershy’s feathered sides rose and fell in the warm sunlight as she slept. Her tail flowed over the end of the bed like a waterfall of pink lemonade.

Maybe it would be better to just sneak out…

***

Fluttershy awoke to the sound of her window creaking open.

She yawned and stretched. It had been a long night even though she left the party at around ten, but she couldn’t sleep for worrying about Rainbow Dash. She’d had an awful lot to drink and it would be just awful if she hurt herself getting home. Just before dawn, her worries got the better of her and she flew over to Rainbow Dash’s house. It’s a good thing she had. Rainbow hadn’t made it home that night! After a few panicked minutes, Fluttershy found her back at Sweet Apple acres.

Rainbow Dash was too heavy to carry all the way back to her house, so Fluttershy carried her back to her cottage and tucked her in. She must have fallen asleep right afterwards because the sun was already high in the sky and she could hear the chickens cackling for their feed through the open window.

Fluttershy sat up. Rainbow Dash looked over at her, frozen with one hoof on the windowsill.

“Oh, good morning, Rainbow!”

“Oh… uh… good morning Fluttershy! Sorry to wake you!”

“That’s okay. Did you have a good time?”

“No! Um… I mean yes! I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Fluttershy rolled over and pushed herself up on her front legs.

“Didn’t you have a good time at the party?”

“Oh! Yeah! Heheheh. Yeah.”

“That’s good. Sorry for taking you back to my place after. Yours was just so far away and I wanted to get you into bed as soon as possible.”

Some of the color drained out from behind the fur on Rainbow’s face.

“Uh, hey… yeah. About that…” she scratched the back of her head with her hoof “About last night… please don’t, you know… tell anyone?”

Poor Rainbow was probably worried she’d be made fun of for not being able to fly herself home last night.

“Don’t worry, Rainbow. You just had too much to drink is all. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Exactly! Exactly…” Rainbow Dash glanced around “…so you won’t tell?”

“My lips are sealed.”

Rainbow let out a sigh of relief.

“Ohmygosh! Thank you, thank you so much! Anyway, gotta dash!”

A whoosh of wind and she was gone out the window.

Fluttershy smoothed the quilt. It felt so good to help out a friend.

***

Blueblood was awake before Big Macintosh. The smell of Tombs’ inimitable blueberry French toast and piping hot cinnamon raisin oatmeal wafted up the narrow staircase from the kitchen. There would be the little pitcher of maple syrup heated up in boiling water and just a dab of honey on the oatmeal and it would be like taking a bite of heaven. He realized he hadn’t eaten anything all day yesterday and that he was completely famished.

He eased himself out of bed. His muscles were a symphony of aches and pains, but he felt refreshed. He looked down at Big Macintosh, still sleep, and tutted. What a mess he looked! His coat was filthy, his long mane a tangle of knots! He should really just cut his mane short, that way it wouldn’t need nearly so much care and that way it wouldn’t get in the way of wor… wait! What was he thinking?

Blueblood shook his head. He’d spent too much time out in the field yesterday is all. Just look at his hooves! So caked in with dirt, oh it was going to take Tombs forever to clean them out.

Before too long, Tombs walked in, levitating two trays of French toast and oatmeal. He laid them out on the table and set up the silverware.

“Good morning, sire.”

“Good morning, Tombs,” said Blueblood, a slight frost crept into his voice as he remembered being abandoned the day before.

“Did you sleep well, sire?”

“Very well. Just the thing after an honest day’s toil in the fields, what?”

“So I’m given to understand, sire.”

“Did you have a good day gadding about with this one?” he gestured to Big Mac.

“As good as could be expected, sire.”

“You’re awfully stiff this morning, Tombs. Are you alright?”

Tombs straightened further.

“After the late night last night, this morning was a little…rushed, sire”

I had to make four breakfasts.

“Oh, what time is it?”

“Eight o’clock, sire.”

“So still early, then. Well, all will be forgiven as soon as I dig into this breakfast, who knows how long I have before that awful sister of his comes looking for me.”

“Miss Applejack departed for the fields this morning, sire. Before she left, she mentioned not to wake you if you were sleeping.”

“Did she? Wait… which one of me?”

“Either, sire”

“Oh…” Blueblood looked down at his food “So she doesn’t need my help, then?”

“Evidently not, sire. I expect this is welcome news, coming so close on the heels of yesterday’s ordeal…”

“Yes… yes…” Blueblood continued to stare at his food. It was almost a minute before he realized hadn’t started eating yet because he was waiting for his fork to levitate. Not only had his horn gone, but there wasn’t even an absence of it. Like losing a tooth and having no gap to run one’s tongue over. He wavered over the oatmeal before lowering his face to the bowl. His muzzle was warm and wet, hot oats poured into his nostrils.

“Agh!” he jolted back and stepped on Big Macintosh, who cursed and flailed on the floor.

“What in Tarnation!?” he bellowed.

Blueblood snuffled frantically, spattering oats across Tombs’s vest and all over the floor.

Big Mac staggered to his feet and tried to get his bearings.

“What’s all the commotion?”

Tombs dabbed his vest with a hoofkercheif.

“His majesty accidentally took some breakfast down his Sunday throat, sir.”

Blueblood nickered, launching one last oat flake from his burned nostrils, and regarded the pair coolly.

“It’s my first breakfast as an Earth pony.”

“Eeyup.”

Big Mac caught the aroma of Tombs’s French toast and noticed there was a second tray. He looked back at Tombs.

“I took the liberty of preparing both your breakfasts, as I am duty bound to some aspect of both of you.” Tombs explained.

Big Mac nodded and dug into his oatmeal, draining half the bowl in a single gulp.

Blueblood snorted and went to work on the French toast, which was a little easier to eat off the plate. He looked out the window.

“I must say, it is nice to get an early start to the day. I shall have to rise at eight more often.”

Big Mac choked and blew oatmeal out his nose.

“Ha, not as easy as it looks, eh?” chuckled Blueblood.

Big Mac stamped and snorted the oatmeal out, then leapt on Blueblood, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“What time is it?” he demanded.

“Eight o’clock, what’s wrong!?”

Big Mac didn’t answer. He wiped his mouth on the napkin Tombs held up and bounded out the door, he leapt the last half of the stairs and landed in the kitchen with enough force to crack the tiles. Pain shot up his left forehoof and he remembered he still had only three shoes. He limped the last few steps out of the kitchen before bolting out, leaving the screen door to slam behind him.

Tombs dabbed at Blueblood’s scalded nose with a napkin.

“What’s gotten into him?” asked Blueblood.End of Part 7

To be continued…

Chapter VIII

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part VIII

… So therefore, a wise princess knows that it is best to be both loved and feared. On the question as to which is more preferable, then it is better to be loved, for love is more important than power.

-Niccola Machiafilly

The Princess (La Principessa)

Big Macintosh galloped as fast as he could on three horseshoes, but it was still eight forty by the time he arrived, panting and foaming with sweat, at the door of the Library. He stood and caught his breath before nudging the door open with his forehoof and looking around inside.

Twilight wasn’t in the central room, but she couldn’t be far. The floor was stacked high with books and papers while a blackboard had been set up at the back of the room. The board bore the header “Intro to Friendship. Instructor: Twilight Sparkle” in blue chalk across the top.

Big Mac trotted in and examined the stacks of books. They all had titles like A Brief History of Friendship (Hayking), The Friendship Gene (Hamare) and Pony, all too Pony (Neightchze). He lifted a hefty volume with his magic and flipped through the pages; crammed full of indecipherable diagrams and matrices. He sighed. Big Mac had pictured his “friendship lessons” with Twilight featuring a little less theory and more practice, but that was the price of getting involved with a pony of letters.

He heard hoofsteps from the other room and looked up from a dog-eared copy of Ponytics (Aristrottle) to see Twilight canter in, levitating another tall stack of books ahead of her. Upon seeing him, she narrowed her eyes and dropped the stack on the table with a resounding “thump.”

“I was beginning to think you weren’t showing up, your highness,” she frowned “and what happened to your mane?”

Big Mac hung his head. Twilight clucked her tongue.

Come on, you’re supposed to be a prince, remember? Big Mac chided himself.

“My apologies, m’lady,” said Big Mac.

“MM hmm. Lesson one was going to be a brief historical summary of friendship from the Paleopony Period up to the Modern era, but maybe it would be better to start with something simpler, like punctuality.”

“As you wish.”

Big Mac followed her over to the blackboard. Twilight straightened a stack of papers and peeled a sheet from the top, which she levitated over to him.

“That’s the course syllabus. As you can see, we should already be discussing the Preclassical contributions of Thomas Equinas and his influence on the works of Clover the Clever!”

Big Macintosh blinked. The page might as well have been written in Ancient Pegasellic.

“Are you getting all this?” asked Twilight.

“Nnope.”

Twilight sighed. This was going to be a long morning for both of them.

“Alright, well, maybe if we work through lunch, we can make up for lost time,” she said as she turned to the blackboard.

The lesson would have to wait a little longer. Twilight had no sooner raised the chalk to the board than the library door swung open and Rainbow Dash trotted in.

“Twiliiiight! You in?” she called.

Twilight turned around.

“Yes, Rainbow, I’m right here.”

“Oh, sorry Twilight, guess I was distracted by this handsome hunk of unicorn meat, am I right?”

Big Mac and Twilight both raised an eyebrow.

“We were just in the middle of a lesson, Rainbow,” said Twilight “Is something up?”

Rainbow Dash looked around, nonchalant.

“Oh, not much. I was just wondering if you had a copy of the latest issue of Hard Stallions. I can’t find mine anywhere! I’ve looked all over.”

“Um… Never heard of it. Check in the periodicals section, I guess?”

Rainbow Dash glanced over at the periodicals section and then conked a hoof to her forehead.

“Oh, wow, silly me! Here’s my copy! Under my wing the whole time!” she declared too loudly to nopony in particular. She reached under her wing and pulled out the magazine with a theatric flourish.

“Well, I’m glad that’s sorted out…” said Twilight.

“I guess I’m gonna read it now!”

“Okay…”

Rainbow Dash pushed up between Twilight and Big Mac and flopped the spring issue of Hard Stallions on the ground in front of them. The magazine delivered exactly what it promised; mostly pictures of burly colts lifting or pulling heavy objects while sporting massive erections. Big Mac flinched away and uttered a silent prayer that Blueblood hadn’t done a photo shoot for them.

“Ugh! Rainbow Dash! That’s disgusting! What’s gotten into you!?”

“I wish it were one of these studs, right? Or maybe Prince Hunk over here,” Rainbow winked at Big Mac and clicked her teeth.

“Get out of here!” Twilight snatched the magazine, rolled it up and jammed it back under Rainbow Dash’s wing. She pointed her hoof at the door.

“Alright, jeez,” huffed Rainbow Dash “You need to get laid.”

Rainbow strode out with her nose in the air and Twilight slammed the door after her. Big Mac hoped Twilight couldn’t see him blush. Twilight hoped the same thing about Big Macintosh.

There was a pregnant pause as the two ponies processed what just happened.

Twilight broke the tension.

“I’m so sorry; Rainbow Dash isn’t normally like that…” she trailed off, lost in thought.

Idea!

“Which brings us to our first practical assignment!” she announced, “Recognizing when a friend is behaving strangely and finding out why!”

Big Mac nodded. It sounded a lot more fun than what was on the syllabus.

“Follow me; we’re going on an expedition!” Twilight disappeared up the stairs to her room. Big Mac placed a hesitant hoof on the bottom step and looked up the stairwell. The stairs curved around so that the top steps were out of sight. He heard Twilight moving around on the floor above.

“You coming?” she called.

“Eeyup…” he whispered to himself and started up the stairs.

Twilight’s room smelled like lilac potpourri and books. He heard rummaging above him and saw that the room was split into two levels, with Twilight’s bed and bathroom occupying a small loft overlooking a circular living space that more or less took up the top half of the tree. Everything was straight and fastidiously tidy, only her study area bore any signs that somepony lived there. Her table was loaded with pages of notes, stacked neatly by category. A binder, halfway through the process of being tabbed out, lay open on the desk.

Twilight looked over the edge of the loft.

“I need you up here, please.”

Big Mac trotted up the stairs that hugged the wall up to the loft. He tread carefully through the bathroom. He’d been to other ponies’ houses on repair jobs and Mares’ bathrooms always made him feel awkward. Everything was so fluffy. A purple hair dryer rested on the sink, plugged into the magical outlet that gathered electricity from the lightning rod up on top of the tree. There was a little jar of cotton swabs next to a toothbrush resting in a cup on the shelf under the mirror. The bathmat was poofy and pink. Big Mac was thankful there weren’t any feminine products lying out.

As Big Macintosh exited Twilight’s bathroom through the other side, a pair of saddlebags arced over his head and settled themselves across his back.

“If you’re going to be my protégé, that means you’re going to assist me in my research, and that means carrying the bags,” Twilight explained. She let out a small squee of delight and rubbed her hooves together.

“This is so exciting!” she squealed again “I have a protégé! I have somepony I can introduce as my protégé!”

“What about Spike?” asked Big Mac.

Twilight waved her hoof at the idea.

“Spike is a good friend and assistant, but he’s not exactly the academic type. At least he comes in handy as a gofer.”

“A gopher?” Why Twilight would want Spike to act like a garden pest was beyond Big Macintosh.

“Yeah, you know: ‘go fer this’ and ‘go fer that.’ Like right now he’s at the printers getting my lecture notes copied for tomorrow.”

Big Mac nodded and tried not to let his disappointment show. Tomorrow didn’t sound too promising.

“That is if we can get to the bottom of Rainbow’s problem today, of course. Depending on what’s wrong, it might take two or three days to reach a satisfactory conclusion… Here, take this…”

Twilight levitated a copy of Kaplan & Saddle’s Comprehensive Textbook of Psychiatry in his face. Big Mac looked at it and waited for it to float into his bag. It just hung there.

Twilight cleared her throat.

“Um, Blueblood? Put this in the bag, please?”

Big Mac blinked.

Oh! Right!

He reached out with his magic and enveloped the book. For a moment, his magical field overlapped with hers and there was a discharge of ozone. Big Mac could feel her touch on the book, like the echo of a song lingering on the wind. Though they were several feet apart, for the barest instant, they seemed so close as to almost share the same space. Twilight felt something, too and he saw her flick her ears. She cleared her throat with a small “ahem” and went back to gathering supplies. She dropped the rest of her study materials; a notebook, quill, some parchment and a small pair of glasses into the saddlebags without waiting for Big Mac to take them.

“We’re probably going to need snacks, too,” said Twilight, edging around Big Mac and trotting back downstairs. Big Mac paused a few seconds before following. He was feeling just a little lightheaded.

***

Twilight had to stop and lean against the refrigerator before opening it. What was all that about? An unfamiliar warmth suffused her body and it felt like she was having trouble keeping her hooves on the ground. Could she be sick? If Blueblood weren’t here, she’d go back upstairs and take her temperature, but there was no time for that right now. Besides, what she was feeling was probably just concern for Rainbow Dash…

Twilight opened the fridge and stuck her face inside. She rested her chin on the shelf and took a few deep breaths.

***

Blueblood was enjoying a luxurious morning at Sweet Apple Acres. Tombs had taken the liberty of heating some water for a bath. The large, wooden washtub behind the barn wasn’t much when compared to the multi-head, thermostatically controlled, high-pressure shower system (with Vibroluxe massage!) the Prince enjoyed back at the palace but, as Tombs poured another pitcher of warm water over his head and scrubbed his back, he could honestly say he had no complaints. After his bath, Tombs cleaned the mud out of Blueblood’s hooves and trimmed his fetlocks so that they weren’t quite so unruly. After that, it was a massage to get all the kinks out from the previous day (plus a few more that Big Mac had apparently been carrying around for ages). By the time Applejack came in from the fields for lunch, he felt like a new colt.

“Big Macintosh, whut are you doin’?” asked Applejack through the screen door as she washed her hooves under the hoof-operated pump outside.

Blueblood was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, wrapped in a barber gown while Tombs attempted to style his unruly mane.

“Oh! Uh…-good afternoon… sis,” said Blueblood.

Tombs spoke up.

“If you’ll pardon the liberty, miss Applejack, I had the time and the inclination, so I offered to trim mister Macintosh’s mane. Mister Macintosh seemed amicable to the offer and it’s the least I can do to repay your kind hospitality.”

“Uh huh…” said Applejack “Well it’s not so much that… I wus just surprised Big Mac hadn’t left for town yet. Ah know Ah told him to take it easy and all, but I was really hopin’ he could get up to the apple stand today.”

“Of course mister Macintosh has been eager to depart for some time. The delay is of course my fault.”

“’Taint nuthin’, just as long as he gets up there…” Applejack went over to the icebox and opened it with her teeth “What th-”

She pulled a large bowl of potato salad out of the icebox and set it on the table. There was a note on top that read “Miss Applejack.”

Applejack looked over at Tombs.

“Did you make this for me?”

“Yes ma’m. If you’ll forgive the liberty, I felt it would be a welcome treat after a long morning out in the fields.”

Applejack’s hard expression melted a little.

“Well… that’s mighty kind of ya,” she said.

“There is also lemonade chilling on the top shelf, ma’m.”

“Thank you kindly mister Tombs, Ah’m amazed you went t’ all this trouble,” said Applejack, peeling the cling wrap from the top of the bowl and digging into the potato salad with vigor.

“Big Mac, just make sure yer up in town once you finish yer manecut, y’hear?” said Applejack between mouthfuls of potato salad.

“Eeyop.”

***

Blueblood and Tombs made a brisk pace up into town, well, as brisk as they could considering Blueblood was also hitched up to the cart bearing that day’s load of apples.

“I say, I was rather hoping to get the day off, what?” said Blueblood, puffing a little from the weight of the cart. Big Macintosh’s body was no stranger to hard work by any means, but Blueblood was, and he had a much lower threshold for exhaustion.

“I expect, sire that, considering the heavy workload that necessarily comes with owning and operating a farm the size of Sweet Apple Acres, spending the afternoon working at the market is the closest thing to a day off one can afford.”

“Ugh. Oh well, I feel invigorated by this morning’s rest. I expect I can survive an afternoon of honest toil…”

Even beneath a coat of soil and sweat, Big Macintosh’s rugged physique and stoic manner had always turned quite a few heads among the mares of Ponyville. Now, Blueblood, neatly trimmed and sporting his princely swagger, was turning quite a few more. A small procession of distracted mares had begun to gather behind the pair as they made their way to the center of town. The fact hadn’t escaped Blueblood and he winked at a small gaggle of fillies as he passed, eliciting a collective sigh and excited whispering.

“You know, Tombs, I think we’re going to do a pretty brisk business today.”

“I expect so, sire, provided we can keep our minds on our work…”

“Oh of course, of course…” Blueblood said absentmindedly, looking over his shoulder. The parade of mares stopped in their tracks and pretended to be busy with other things.

Blueblood and Tombs set up the cart. Blueblood was surprised at the ease with which he could move the heavy bushels of apples. A glimmer of the strength contained in his new body was beginning to show through.

A small crowd had already formed by the time Blueblood finished pushing the last bushel into place, and there was some jostling among the mares for who would go first. On the fringes of the square, jealous colts observed the kerfuffle with darkened eyes.

A chipper filly named SeaSwirl finally boiled up from the crowd and won the first spot in line. She dropped her bits on the stand and grabbed her apples with an effervescent giggle before darting off at a quick canter.

Most of the mares just lined up to buy apples, but a few lingered and stole a few moments of conversation with Blueblood before the rest of the line grew impatient. Big Mac had never (or rarely) spoken more than two words at a stretch to any of them, and the new, talkative Big Macintosh was a curiosity in itself. Tombs ended up handling more and more of the actual transactions.

“So, Big Mac, how’s it going on the farm?” asked Junebug, giving her butter yellow curls a flirtatious toss.

“Oh, it’s splendid. I plowed a field yesterday,” said Blueblood, leaning forward.

Junebug giggled.

“Oh, really? I bet it was hard.”

“Very hard.”

“And hot…”

“Oh, positively steamy…”

Junebug giggled again. The pony behind her nudged her flank and she scowled.

“Alright! Jeez-ow,” she huffed before turning back to Blueblood “I guess we can catch up later.”

She flicked her tail under his nose and trotted back out into the square. She hadn’t even bought any apples.

“I say, Tombs, this is quite fun,” said Blueblood. Tombs was busy making change for the next pony in line.

“It’s gratifying that sire is enjoying himself,” answered Tombs, taking an empty bushel down off the applecart and hefting up a new one.

Another mare sauntered up to the stand. Blueblood couldn’t help but lick his lips. She looked as delicious as an ice cream sundae. Her yellow coat shined in the afternoon sun, multicolored hair clips were scattered throughout her luscious tricolored mane, giving the distinct impression of sprinkles on Neapolitan ice cream.

“Hello there,” greeted Blueblood, warmly “What’s your name?”

“Um, Banana Split,” she answered, slightly taken aback that he didn’t remember her.

“I should have guessed. How many apples for you today?”

“Oh, well actually I’m not here for apples…” she pawed at the ground.

“Oh? Well how else can I help you today?” Blueblood raised an eyebrow.

“Well, the freezer at the Ice Cream Shop is on the fritz again, and since it was you that fixed it last time, I was hoping you could stop by today and take a look.”

“Oh, of course! Say no more! I shall pop over there straightaway.”

“Ahem,” Tombs cleared his throat.

“Yes, what is it, Tombs?” asked Blueblood, an edge of impatience in his voice.

“I hesitate to remind sir that he didn’t bring his toolbox with him, and that attempting to repair the young lady’s freezer might be a futile effort without it.”

“Well there can’t be any harm in taking a look, Tombs,” Blueblood scoffed.

“And my daddy’s got a toolbox. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it,” offered Banana Split.

Blueblood faltered.

“Um, is your father at the shop right now?” he asked.

“Oh, no. He’s taking my little brother Lickety Split to the dentist today. It’s just me, minding the shop… alone. And then the freezer broke and the ice cream is going to melt and I just don’t know what to do!” she sniffled a little too theatrically.

Tombs stepped forward.

“While I sympathize with ma’m’s predicament, today might not be the best-”

“Pish and tosh, Tombs!” interrupted Blueblood “The poor girl is obviously distraught. I see no harm in going to take a look.”

“Very good, sir,” Tombs took a deep breath turned back to the apple stand where several more fillies demanded attention.

Blueblood placed a comforting hoof on Banana Split’s shoulder.

“Now, let’s see if we can’t sort you out,” he said as she guided him back to the Ice Cream shop.

End of Part Eight

To be continued…

Chapter IX

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part IX

“Well, she’s not in her house,” said Twilight. She reappeared next to Big Macintosh with a small thunderclap that made him jump. Twilight’s ability to “jump” from place to place took some getting used to. When she had first vanished in a cloud of purple sparks sometime back in their early acquaintance, Big Mac experienced a moment of panic where he thought she had spontaneously exploded. He understood by now that she was simply magicking herself from place to place, but he hadn’t spent enough time in her company to get used to it. As a unicorn, Twilight’s jumping spell seemed even stranger to Big Mac; as he could actually feel her body melt away into energy and zap to its new destination.

Big Mac looked up at the puffy cloud manor where Rainbow Dash made her home. Small arcs of liquid rainbow poured down from the house, dissolving into the air above their heads. Twilight paced the ground impatiently.

“My guess is that she must be out and about somewhere showing off that dirty magazine. I just hope we can reach her before she completely humiliates herself!” Twilight mused “Come on, let’s try Rarity’s…”

Twilight set off at a brisk trot back towards the center of town with Big Mac close at her heels.

***

“Oh yes, darling! Rainbow Dash was here all right! It’s only by Celestia’s grace that Sweetie Belle wasn’t here to witness such vulgar behavior. I don’t know what’s gotten into her!” Rarity complained to Twilight and Big Macintosh over some tea.

“Was it the magazine?” asked Twilight.

“She showed it to you, too?”

Twilight nodded and cast her eyes down to the silver tea tray. Rarity tutted.

“I mean what, and I use the term loosely, ‘literature’ she chooses to enjoy in the privacy of her own home is one thing, but I can’t understand why she would suddenly feel it appropriate to inflict it on us!”

“She’s obviously somehow misjudged the boundaries of her relationship with us. I mean, we are all close friends.”

“Not that close, my dear.” Rarity sipped her tea.

“No, and my guess is that she just doesn’t understand that we’re not comfortable… ‘sharing’ like that… ” Twilight cleared her throat “What’s important is that we find her and help her to understand without making it feel like we’re rejecting her.”

“Well, better you than me. That’s why you’re the Princess’s star pupil after all.”

“I’ll do my best, but if you have any clues as to the reason behind her sudden change in behavior, I’d really appreciate them.”

“None at all my dear,” Rarity pouted and looked off into space, pondering “The only thing I can think of is that something happened at the party last night.”

Big Macintosh’s ears suddenly stood up at attention. He remembered Fluttershy coming to pick up Rainbow Dash after the party ended.

“Um, Twilight,” said Big Macintosh.

Rarity and Twilight suddenly remembered Big Mac was in the room.

“Yes, Blueblood?” Twilight answered.

“I think-”

Twilight interrupted.

“Did I mention that Prince Blueblood is my friendship protégé?”

Rarity’s eyes widened.

“Oh! How wonderful! And here I thought he was just being a gentlecolt by carrying your bags for you.”

“Oh, he’s being quite a gentlecolt! He shows real promise as a student. I can’t wait to write to the Princess about it.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, my dear. Speaking of gentlecolts, you’ll never guess who I saw with a new manestyle today!”

“Oh? Who?”

“Big Macintosh! He looked so darling!”

Big Mac almost choked on his tea. Fluttershy fled his mind completely and he let out an involuntary whinny that made Twilight and Rarity jump. They stared at him as if he had slugs crawling on his face. He tried to laugh it off.

“Sorry,” he said “Who had a new manestyle?”

They continued to stare.

“Big Macintosh…” Rarity answered at length.

Big Mac nodded. A chill went up his spine. What in Tartarus was Blueblood doing with his body now?

***

It had taken several minutes, but Blueblood finally figured out how to take the cover off the freezer motor beneath the counter at the Ice Cream shop. Blueblood stared at the dead motor for several long seconds. Banana Split opened her mouth to say something and Blueblood shushed her. He started at the motor some more. He tilted his head. Maybe getting a fresh angle on the problem would help…

After about a minute of staring, Banana Split spoke up again.

“Do you know what’s wrong with it?”

Blueblood hadn’t even the slightest idea.

“I expect it’s a busted combobulator…” Blueblood answered, his voice dripping with expertise.

“Oh…” Banana Split stood next to Blueblood so she could see what he was looking at. Blueblood was looking at all the dust underneath the counter and wondering if he could fix the motor without having to get his freshly groomed coat all filthy.

“Do you think this might be the problem?” Banana Split stuck her head under the counter and came back up with the power cord in her mouth. The motor had been unplugged.

Blueblood stared at the power cord for several more seconds.

“Well I guess there’s no harm in trying,” he answered.

Banana Split trotted over to the wall and plugged the cord back into the outlet. The motor hummed to life and cool air once again began to blow over the ice cream.

“Someone must have unplugged it by accident,” said Banana Split, innocence shining in her big, brown eyes.

“Oh, of course,” said Blueblood “Glad I could be of assistance.”

The prince turned to leave. Banana Split blocked him at the door.

“Oh, you have to go? You went through all that trouble to fix it, the least I can do is treat you to some ice cream.”

“Well, I’m minding the applecart, you know…”

“Can’t your friend take care of it?”

“I suppose he can handle himself for a few minutes…”

Blueblood went back over to the counter. Banana Split turned the sign on the door to “closed” and followed him…

***

Twilight and Big Macintosh bid Rarity a cordial goodbye and headed off to continue their search for Rainbow Dash. Big Mac kept his eyes peeled for the multicolored mare, but he was even more interested in finding Blueblood and getting a look at this new manestyle. He just hoped it wasn’t something to embarrassing. Twilight levitated her checklist and quill ahead of her. She made a tick mark next to “Rarity.” Next on the list was “Pinkie Pie.” They made their way toward the center of town.

“Blueblood, you were at the party. Do you remember anything happening to Rainbow Dash last night?”

Oh!

Big Macintosh nodded, suddenly remembering Fluttershy stopping by early in the morning to pick up her friend. However, no sooner had he opened his mouth to speak than the high-pitched wail of a siren split the air and drowned out his words. Big Mac and Twilight jumped to the side of the road as an ambulance squealed by, the EMTs charging at full gallop. The ambulance flew over the cobblestones and took the turn at the end of the street so fast that for a wild second the carriage was up on two wheels before disappearing around the corner.

“Ohmygosh!” exclaimed Twilight “What happened!?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and galloped off after the ambulance. Big Macintosh caught up quickly and the two followed the siren to the town square.

***

The square was in a state of near pandemonium. A large crowd surrounded the Ice Cream Shop where the ambulance sat outside; its red lights swept the square and the siren warbled fitfully. Twilight and Big Mac pushed their way to the front of the crowd in time to see the EMTs wheeling Banana Split out of the shop on a gurney. Her yellow flank jutted up in the air, wrapped in bandages that made her look like a half-mummy. A torrent of tears streamed down her face. She gritted her teeth and chocked back a sob as they loaded the gurney into the ambulance.

Off to one side, Prince Blueblood fidgeted nervously with his hooves as a burly paramedic asked him some very probing questions. Blueblood’s eyes darted wildly around, his face alive with terror and shame.

“I just don’t know what went wrong!” exclaimed Blueblood.

Tombs worked his way through the crowd and took his place at the Prince’s side.

“Excuse me, sir. What seems to be the problem?”

“Nuthin’ to concern you, limey,” answered the paramedic.

“Tombs, this brute won’t let me leave,” Blueblood complained.

“Most unfortunate, sire. I’m sure the judge won’t look kindly upon this during the malpractice hearing.”

“The what!?” exclaimed the paramedic.

“I am Mr. Macintosh’s attorney,” said Tombs “And I am most interested to learn why you are here, badgering an innocent bystander.”

“Innocent nuthin’! You know how we found him and her? We had to bring the Jaws of Life out to separate ‘em!”

“And so your immediate response to a potentially traumatized victim of this experience is to harass him and exacerbate his condition?”

“I wasn’t the one exacerbatin’ anythin’!”

“Are you a licensed psychiatrist?”

“What? No, but-”

“Then perhaps you ought to stick to your area of expertise and leave my client to be tended by somepony qualified to treat his psychological scarring.”

The paramedic stuttered a few more objections, but they died on his tongue as he looked into Tombs’s stony expression. He snorted heavily through his nostrils and stormed off.

Blueblood wiped his forehead with a broad hoof.

“Thanks, Tombs. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“One doesn’t like to dwell on that contingency, sire. Perhaps we should adjourn from here, however. It’s best not to linger with so many curious ponies about.”

“Yes, Tombs, I expect you’re right.”

With the ambulance departed, the crowd began to disperse, though groups of threes and fours lingered, buzzing with chatter and speculation about what had just happened.

Blueblood and Tombs took their places behind the applecart. Blueblood did his best to look nonchalant about the whole affair. He didn’t like how the ponies in the square kept glancing in his direction, the mares’ expressions distinctly chilly.

The two sat in awkward silence for several seconds before Blueblood spoke up.

“I say, Tombs. This Big Macintosh fellow…”

“Yes, sire?” Tombs didn’t look at him.

“I quite fancy I may have discovered the reason behind the ‘Big’ part of his name.”

“The appellation would seem to be an apt one, sire.”

“Quite, Tombs, quite. I’m a bit surprised he doesn’t have more of a reputation…”

“I expect Mr. Macintosh’s characteristic shyness is nature’s way of balancing things out, sire.”

“Indeed…”

Big Macintosh and Twilight trotted up to the cart. Blueblood didn’t like the flinty look in Big Mac’s eyes and he quailed a little, scooting unconsciously to put Tombs between him and his body.

“What was all that about?” asked Twilight, looking concerned.

“What was all what about?” asked Blueblood.

“Um, the ambulance and the crying and the bandages?”

“Oh… uh, bit of brain freeze, I expect,” answered Blueblood, his eyes shifting from side to side “That’s one of the hazards of working at an ice cream shop.”

“The bandages were on her flank.”

Blueblood shifted his haunches.

“Well, that’s an even worse place to get frozen, isn’t it?”

Big Mac narrowed his eyes.

“You two didn’t happen to have anything to do with that back there, did you?” he asked, his voice deadly serious.

Blueblood shrugged. Tombs focused his attention on a point somewhere off over Twilight’s shoulder.

“Cuz if I find out you’ve been dicking around with-”

Twilight cut him off.

“Your highness! I’m surprised at you! It’s really none of your business! If they say they don’t know than they don’t know. Big Macintosh would never lie.”

Big Mac held his tongue and swallowed the rest of his lecture. He was touched that Twilight held him in such high regard, though he wondered how long that would last with Blueblood behind the helm of his body.

“I can see I may have to add to my syllabus when we get back.”

Big Mac’s shoulders drooped.

“What’s all the hubbub, bub?”

The group turned. Pinkie Pie, roused from her nap by the fracas outside had trotted over from Sugarcube Corner to investigate, her frizzy mane still lopsided from just getting out of bed.

“Oh, hey Pinkie Pie,” said Twilight.

“Hey, Twilight,” answered Pinkie “Hey, Tombs.”

“Miss Pie.”

Pinkie shot him a dirty look. Tombs swallowed involuntarily.

“Somepony had to go to the hospital for brain freeze,” offered Blueblood.

Pinkie gasped and put a hoof to her mouth.

“Oh no! Brain freeze is the worst! I keep warning everypony not to rush when you eat ice cream! Who was it?”

“I think it was Banana Split,” said Twilight “But I don’t think it was-”

“It was brain freeze of the flank!” interjected Blueblood.

Pinkie’s eyes went wide.

“That’s terrible! Poor Banana Split! We’ve got to organize a get well party right away!” she grabbed Twilight by the hoof.

“Um, Pinkie, I’m kind of in the middle of something…” said Twilight.

Pinkie gasped.

“Twilight, how could you be so heartless! Brain freeze is bad enough, but brain freeze of the butt?” Pinkie shuddered and stared off into space for a few seconds, unseen horrors dancing behind her eyes,

“Yes, but…”

“No buts, Twilight! The only ‘butt’ I want to hear about it Banana Split’s! Come on!”

Without listening to another word, Pinkie dragged Twilight with her back to Sugarcube Corner to put together a “We’re sorry about your butt” party. Tombs, Blueblood and Big Mac all watched them go, their own argument temporarily forgotten.

Big Macintosh turned back to the pair.

“So what was all that really about?” he asked.

“I expect she just likes parties,” said Blueblood.

“I mean with Banana Split,” Big Mac narrowed his eyes.

“Now, really, mister Macintosh, why would you just assume that we’d be at the center of any excitement?”

“I saw you talking to one of the paramedics.”

“Just as a curious citizen. Nothing more,” Blueblood cast his gaze around.

“Is he telling the truth, Tombs?”

Tombs cleared his throat.

“I was not present to observe the proceedings myself, sir, but I will say that the evidence to suggest his highness’s involvement in the affair is circumstantial at best.”

Big Mac regarded the pair closely, something was up, but he couldn’t put his hoof on it. Besides, he had other concerns. Maybe if he could solve this Rainbow Dash problem without Twilight’s help, he could impress her enough that she might decide to skip the whole “Friendship Theory” section of that dang syllabus. Blueblood’s manecut didn’t look as bad as he feared. He even grudgingly admitted that it was quite becoming. He made the “I’m watching you” gesture at Blueblood and trotted off to find Fluttershy.

After Big Mac left, Blueblood turned to Tombs.

“You know Tombs, I think there’s a valuable lessons to be learned from all this.”

“Indubitably, sire.”

“Yes, next time include a little more foreplay. Get her loosened up a bit, you know? Can’t just plow the old freight train in at full steam without giving the tracks a little grease, what?”

Not even Tombs’s ironclad sense of professionalism was enough to stop him from rolling his eyes.

***

Big Macintosh made good time to Fluttershy’s cottage at the edge of the forest. In keeping with Fluttershy’s devotion to nature, the cottage practically melted into the hillock on which it sat. The roof was thatched with living grass that poured over the eaves onto the ground. The yard out front was a network of burrows and warrens and birdhouses dangled from every branch of every tree like Hearthswarming ornaments. A stream, chock full of every kind of fish, babbled nearby. The entire property was alive with birdsong and the chattering of small woodland creatures.

Big Macintosh walked up the path and knocked gently on the little pink door.

No reply. At this time of day, Fluttershy was probably out tending to her animal friends. Still, she was his only lead and he knocked again.

At the sound of his second knock, a white rabbit popped up in the window and peered out with a peevish expression.

Big Mac looked through the window at the rabbit. It looked back at him and tapped its foot, impatiently.

“Is Fluttershy in?” he asked.

In response, the little brute clapped his paw into his elbow and gave Big Mac a vigorous bras d’honneur.

Big Mac snorted, but kept his temper.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”

The rabbit flipped him off with its fuzzy little paws. Big Macintosh decided that it was a good time to leave. He’d come back later to talk with Fluttershy and, if she wasn’t looking, possibly settle his score with the little fuzzball. He’d barely turned around when he caught sight of a blazing rainbow arcing down in his direction. He stepped back to allow Rainbow Dash to touch down on the walk in front of him. She had the spring issue of Hard Stallions rolled up in her mouth. She spat it out and tucked it under her wing.

“Oh, hey Prince Blueblood,” she greeted “Is Fluttershy in?”

“No, just some jerk rabbit.”

“That would be Angel…”

Rainbow Dash looked over Blueblood’s shoulder. Angel was still in the window. He turned around and pressed his cotton-ball tail to the glass.

“Yeah, well back at ya you little bastard!” Rainbow turned around and raised her flank in the air, slapping it with her forehoof. Big Mac stepped aside and looked away.

Angel was flipping her off with both paws now. Rainbow flicked her hoof under her chin and blew a raspberry.

Big Mac cleared his throat. Rainbow looked up.

“Sorry about that. Yeah, Angel’s alright…” she looked back over at Angel “I’m gonna make you into hasenpfeffer, you little horseapple!” she looked back at Big Mac “So how’re you?”The end of part 9

To be continued…

Chapter X

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part X

Big Mac and Rainbow Dash stood facing each other on Fluttershy’s doorstep. A cool wind rustled in the treetops and birdsong drifted through the air. This was Big Macintosh’s chance to talk to Rainbow Dash and get to the bottom of her odd behavior.

“So how’re you?” asked Rainbow Dash, the copy of Hard Stallions tucked under her wing, the bottom half of the magazine stuck out from beneath her feathers. A big, buff stallion leered out from the cover.

“I’m doing fine,” said Big Mac “But I’m really more interested in how you’re doing.”

Rainbow Dash fluttered her wings lightly.

“I’m doing great! Just sharing some girl time with my chums. Drooling over pictures of awesome hunks. You know how it is. I’m sure you and your guy friends look at filly mags all the time.”

“Nnope,” Big Mac shook his head.

“Oh… well it’s great! My friends and I are having a blast,” Rainbow pawed at the ground “Well, not Twilight, obviously but, you know how she is.”

Big Mac just blinked at her. Rainbow scratched one forehoof with the other.

“So Fluttershy’s not home, huh?”

“Nnope.”

“Bummer. I was really hoping to hang out… Share some girl time, you know?”

Big Mac steeled himself. He didn’t want to do it, but his sister taught him that sometimes the best way to help a friend was to walk with them, even if they path they walked was unpleasant.

“I’ll hang out with you,” he offered.

Rainbow Dash faltered.

“Uhh, I dunno. I was planning on looking at raunchy stallion pics.”

“That’s cool.”

Ugh…

“It is!?” she took a step back “I mean… it is?”

Big Mac nodded.

Rainbow Dash laughed. Big Mac didn’t. Rainbow trotted up and glanced over both shoulders.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll think you’re gay?” she asked, her voice low, barely above a whisper.

“Nnope.”

Rainbow Dash didn’t have a response for that.

So far, nopony had been interested in hanging out and looking at Hard Stallions with her. There was no point in looking at them alone… right? It was the sort of thing friends shared with one another, maybe over drinks and cigars. Of course, there was no reason why she couldn’t enjoy them alone, too. It was what she went for all the time. She didn’t even read the articles. Nope, it was just stallions, stallions, stallions all the time for her. Twenty-four, seven. Fluttershyintheshower. Stallions. Stallions. Stallions! And wieners! There was nothing she wanted more than to jam her face into some filly’s flank and…

Sorry. That was supposed to say “colt”…

Anyway, she was getting a bit off track. The point was: if this big, fit looking unicorn prince and his big horn (which totally reminded her of a willy and not of Rarity or Twilight) wanted to hang out with her while she got worked up looking at Hard Stallions then she guessed she couldn’t be held responsible when she inevitably jumped his bones because she was so totally horny for him.

“Ok, well… You wanna look at it here?” Rainbow offered.

Big Mac looked around and shrugged. There was nopony else nearby. Here was fine.

Rainbow Dash let the magazine drop from her wing and she opened it up on Fluttershy’s doormat.

Big Mac flinched. The magazine had opened automatically to a heavily muscled palomino Pegasus flaring his wings and not looking very aerodynamic.

“Oh, wow,” said Rainbow Dash “You see he’s got great wing structure, but there’s too much arc to his crest. You also want more of a slope to the shoulder if you want to get up to the really high speeds.”

Big Mac nodded.

“Plus… look at that!” Rainbow gestured to the palomino’s proud stallionhood.

Big Mac nodded again.

“Impressive, huh?”

“Eeyup…” it honestly didn’t seem altogether impressive to Big Macintosh, but he didn’t really look at it. Rainbow Dash couldn’t bring herself to look directly at it either.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, she turned the page. A draft pony of prodigious bulk gleamed wetly up at them sweating, presumably, with the exertion of pulling a load of cinderblocks around in front of a backdrop of a construction site all day.

“Oh, gosh. This guy!” Rainbow Dash trailed off “This guy…”

“This guy’s gonna give himself a hernia,” said Big Mac.

Rainbow Dash looked up from the magazine.

“What?”

Big Mac pointed, planting his hoof over the glossy photo.

“The way he’s hauling those cinderblocks around. He’s carrying the weight too high up on his neck. Ya gotta let yer shoulders do the work. If he keeps pulling like that, he’s gonna seriously injure himself.”

“Huh…” said Rainbow Dash “How do you know so much about hauling stuff?”

Big Mac shrugged. Rainbow Dash turned the page.

“Now this is hot…” she said.

“Is that supposed to be a jungle?” asked Big Mac.

A stallion in jungle khakis pranced between potted plants while a stuffed parrot dangled on a nearby string.

Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but snort out a bubble of laughter.

“Well, that one’s not great…” she smiled, turning the page. A caramel colored colt in a leather jacket and cowboy hat grinned nervously at the camera.

“Holy…”

“Hey, I know that guy!” said Rainbow Dash “That’s…”

“Cousin Braeburn…” Big Mac dropped down to his haunches. You could have knocked him over with a feather. He looked again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. Sure enuff. Little cousin Braeburn. The two had played together as foals. He’d known Braeburn since he was knee high to a rattlesnake. To see his own cousin like this, forehooves up on a barrel of prop apples in front of a cardboard sunset… it was… it was a lot to process.

At least he’s doin’ the Apple Family proud… He thought. The thought was so unexpected and silly that Big Macintosh burst out laughing. The laugh caught Rainbow off guard, but she soon found herself laughing, too.

“Oh, Celestia!” Rainbow laughed “That’s priceless! I wonder if Applejack knows about this?”

Rainbow’s laughter faded.

“Hey… how do you know Braeburn?”

“Uhh… Applejack showed me pictures,” answered Big Macintosh.

Rainbow started laughing again.

“Oh, boy! I bet she never showed you pictures like these, huh?”

“Nnope.”

Big Mac’s response elicited another wild round of laughter from Rainbow Dash, who flopped over on her back and kicked her hooves in the air.

After that, the two spent another half hour flipping through Hard Stallions and having a great time making fun of the ridiculous poses, scenarios and short stories that accompanied each photo spread. Before long, the magazine lay completely forgotten on Fluttershy’s doorstep and the pair were lost in conversation. Rainbow Dash did most of the talking and Big Mac did most of the listening, but it felt good to stand and talk with the bombastic mare. Big Macintosh had never really gotten to know Rainbow Dash, and she was really full of fun and interesting stories once you got past her brash, and sometimes arrogant, exterior.

As the afternoon wore on, the two ended up on the riverbank, chewing cattails and watching the ducks bob for fish in the little stream beneath Fluttershy’s cottage.

“… and it was the biggest explosion I’d ever seen!” Rainbow Dash gestured wildly to illustrate the climax of her recent trip to the grocery store.

“Uh huh…” answered Big Mac, looking up at the sky and chewing thoughtfully on his cattail.

Rainbow Dash sat back down and looked at him. She watched his soft lips working the cattail and the subtle rise and fall of his barrel chest. Her eyes ran over the mottled, bluish grey spots around his stifles (usually dyed white by the Prince to match the rest of his coat) and the wild, blonde tangle of his mane. It was soft and long like a mare’s, shining like cornsilk.

She moistened her lips.

“Prince Blueblood…”

Big Mac looked over. Rainbow Dash kissed him. Clumsily, inexpertly, desperately. He felt her tongue force his lips apart and run over his teeth. He struggled. Rainbow held his forelegs with surprising strength.

“Blueblood, please,” she begged, her brilliant rose eyes shimmered in the afternoon sun.

“Please,” she repeated, “I need this. You don’t know how much I need this.”

Big Mac tried to talk, tried to object but found himself getting excited in spite of the situation. Rainbow Dash pressed her small, sleek body to his and kissed him again. Her kisses were hot and wet with tears.

“Prince Blueblood!” she cried.

“Prince Blueblood!”

“Prince Blueblood!”

That wasn’t Rainbow Dash’s voice.

Big Mac shoved Rainbow to one side and quelled her beating wings to look over her shoulder.

Twilight Sparkle glared down at them from atop the little footbridge that ran over the stream, a terrible anger burning in her eyes.

“Twilight!” yelled Big Mac.

“What?” Rainbow snorted angrily “My name’s not…” she turned “Twilight…”

Twilight scraped the ground with her hoof, posturing herself as if to charge and skewer the two fornicators like a pony shishkebab. Rainbow Dash glared up defiantly at her friend and straddled Big Mac’s chest.

Twilight huffed.

“I can see you haven’t changed after all, your highness!” she sneered.

“No! Twilight! You don’t understand! I… She…”

“As for you, Rainbow, I thought you had more horse sense. Creeps like him will always break your heart.”

“No!” Big Mac stretched his foreleg out at her, but she was gone in an explosion of angry purple sparks that sizzled and died on the wet grass. The afterimage of her departure lingered on his retinas like a camera flash. He watched it until it faded. Rainbow Dash was still straddling him, the heat of her thighs and chest contrasted with the cool of the grass beneath his back. The tableau would have looked good in Hard Stallions if both of them didn’t look so miserable. Rainbow nuzzled his neck. The heat of her breath brought him back to life and he bucked, knocking Rainbow Dash away with more force than he intended. She tumbled on the lawn, cursing angrily.

Rainbow Dash staggered to her feet. Big Mac rushed to her.

“Rainbow Dash, I’m sorry.”

“What in Tartarus is wrong with you?” she stomped.

“It was an accident!”

“I throw myself at you and you just… you just… spurn me?”

“No!”

“I’m not good enough for you? Not sexy enough?” she ranted.

A new, cruel expression crossed her face.

“Or maybe you don’t like mares! I should’ve guessed! You’d rather spend time with that fruity butler of yours! No wonder you were so excited to read pornos with me!”

She hissed through her teeth.

“You’re nothing…” her breath came in deep, rumbling drags “Nothing but a…”

Fillyfooler

“Faggot!”

“Rainbow Dash…”

“Colt Cuddler!” she yelled, stomping her feet in the grass, digging little divots with her hooves.

Big Mac stepped forward. He raised a hoof to calm her but she recoiled from him.

“Go take a flying feather at a doughnut, colt cuddler!” she was off in the air with a stroke of her mighty wings. Within seconds, she was out of sight.

Big Macintosh was left all alone.

***

Blueblood, on the other hoof was doing quite well. In spite of the earlier excitement, business in the square had eventually returned to normal, and excited chatter and rumors brought even more mares to the apple stand, where business was brisk and the gold bits were piling high in the cashbox. Tombs broke open a roll of quarter-bit coins for change while Blueblood kept the apples flowing.

After his misadventure with Banana Split, Blueblood was a little more cautious when dealing with his customers. He kept the line moving and conversation to a minimum. At first.

A well-proportioned and toothsome unicorn filly named Minuette hung about the cart after making her purchase and stretched her conversation out with Blueblood even as he was conducting transactions with other customers.

She worked at the glassworks, her specialty was hourglasses (“see my cutie mark? Tee hee!”) and she was actually off early. It was a shame her boyfriend was out of town or she could hang out with him. As it was, she had nothing to do. She really needed to get a new manecut, didn’t he think? Did her fetlocks look too long, or should she grow them out? Oh, she loved apples. They were great because they were so healthy and she had to watch her figure, see how she was starting to get paunchy? No? Well wasn’t that kind of him to say so!

Tombs listened with disapproval and Blueblood succumbed more and more to the siren song the light-blue mare was whispering in his ear.

“Sir, this bushel is nearly empty,” said Tombs.

Blueblood looked over from Minuette.

“Well go fetch another one from the cart, Tombs.”

“If you’ll forgive me, sir, I’m rather occupied with keeping up with the customers.”

“Well once you’re finished with this one just toddle along and snag another bushel or two, eh?” said Blueblood, a bit impatiently.

“Very good, sir.”

“So who’s your friend?” asked Minuette, taking notice of Tombs for the first time.

“Oh, him?” Blueblood looked over, also giving the appearance of noticing Tombs for the first time “That’s Prince Blueblood’s valet.”

“Isn’t it pronounced ‘valay’?”

“Only when if he were parking a carriage, ma’m” interjected Tombs.

“Don’t correct the girl, Tombs,” said Blueblood “that’s rude.”

“Forgive me, sir,” Tombs doffed his bowler hat to Minuette “Ma’m.”

He turned back to his work. Minuette tittered.

“Oh it’s alright. I think you’re charming,” she said.

“It is kind of you to say, ma’m,” Tombs smiled at her and returned his attention to the queue.

Minuette tittered again.

“So, back to me…” said Blueblood.

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Mac. I should get going. Nice talking to you, though. Goodbye, Tombs!”

Tombs nodded his goodbye and doffed his bowler again.

“I guess I’ll go get the apples now,” Blueblood huffed off for the cart in a sour mood. He unloaded the next bushel (there was only one other bushel of apples left) and balanced it carefully on his back. It wobbled precariously and he watched his feet as he took careful steps back to the apple stand.

He was so busy watching his hooves that he wasn’t watching the small, lavender unicorn crossing the street backwards, her face buried in a map of the town. The two collided. The lilac unicorn went down like a dove beneath a sack of flour and Blueblood tumbled, too, sending apples rolling all over the square.

“I say!” sputtered Blueblood, looking wildly around. Something twitched underneath him and he looked down.

“I say!” he said again, jumping up and helping the half-squashed filly to her feet.

“Oh!” she cried once she’d regained her balance “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and…”

“It’s quite alright miss...?”

“Eulalie,” her voice was soft, like a dove’s, but with an underlying playfulness that was almost brash in its way.

She fluttered her long eyelashes at him. Long eyelashes and big, blue eyes. She had a long, carmine-red mane that tumbled down over her shoulders in soft curls and bounced with the slightest motion of her body.

“That’s a lovely name, Eulalie.”

She blushed, the reddening of her cheeks just visible through the fine lilac hairs on her face. He spotted her map.

“Were were you trying to get to?” he asked.

“Oh, any public house or hotel,” she answered “I’m moving to Ponyville, but I don’t have any place to stay until the painters finish with my apartment.”

“Oh, no!” Blueblood put a hoof across his chest.

“Oh, yes!” answered Eulalie “And I can’t sleep in my shop, there’s no furniture in there yet! No bed or anything!”

“You run a shop?”

“Well, I’m opening one. Down on Saddle street. The location isn’t the best, but it’s all I could afford.”

“What’s your line?”

Eulalie snickered.

“Can’t you guess?” she wiggled her flank. Blueblood took his eyes off hers and looked back at her waggling backside. Her cutie mark was a black pair of panties with pink frills.

“You sell underwear?” he guessed.

“All kinds of lingerie. Sell and design. You should stop by when we open.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m exactly your target market…” Blueblood chuckled.

“Well, maybe you could buy some as a present for your wife,” she smiled.

“Oh, I’m not married.”

“I thought you looked a bit young. Your filly friend, then?”

“I’m not what you would call, ‘presently attached’,” said Blueblood.

Eulalie tutted.

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to see more of you.” She pulled a card from a cloth satchel around her neck and levitated it over to him with her magic. It read in fancy script

Eulalie’s

Purveyor of fine delicates and underthings

Eulalie tucked the card into the collar of his yoke and gathered up her map.

“I hope you find an excuse to stop by, soon,” she winked coquettishly and pranced off, waggling her hindquarters so that her cutie mark slid in an out of sight with each sway of her well-rounded flank.

Somepony stumbled on a cluster of apples and their angered cursing brought Blueblood back into the real world. He righted the bushel and started gathering apples, pausing to watch Eulalie as she crossed the other side of the square and out of sight.

***

The sun was just beginning to set and the gossamer edges of Princess Luna’s majestic night had just begun to climb the Eastern horizon when Fluttershy finally returned home from frolicking all day with her woodland friends, giving them their weekly brush and floss. It was a painstaking process that took all day, but when all the little squirrels smiled their big, bright shiny smiles at her and chattered with their minty fresh breath, her heart just soared. She made a graceful landing at the edge of the cobblestone footpath at the bottom of the hillock and trotted, humming a merry little tune, the rest of the way to her door.

Something crinkled under her hoof and she looked down.

Somepony had left a magazine on her front porch. The back cover was an ad for Applesolute Vodka. The front was…

Fluttershy gasped and recoiled from the magazine as if it were a serpent. She tucked her wings close and hid behind her bangs, peeking out to scan the area. She glanced cautiously around, half expecting somepony to leap out and yell “gotcha!”

She didn’t like surprises.

Nopony jumped out.

Fluttershy relaxed bit by bit and eventually worked up the courage to prod the magazine with her hoof. It didn’t bite or explode. She looked down at it again.

The Hard Stallion on the cover winked up at her, a massive, black bar jutted out from between his hips and stretched out to cover part of his forelegs.

Fluttershy looked around again, picked the magazine up in her mouth and tucked it securely beneath her dainty wing, adjusting it with her nose so that not an inch of it was visible. She opened the door and backed slowly into her cottage, her wide eyes shifting slyly.The end of Part 10

To be continued…

Chapter XI

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XI

Dear Princess Celestia,
Today I learned that your nephew, Prince Blueblood, is a total douchebag asshole! He’ll do anything it takes to get laid and he doesn’t care who he takes advantage of! He knew that Rainbow Dash was feeling emotionally vulnerable, and rather than help her work through her feelings, he seduced her! You want my advice? One word: gelding

No.

Dear Princess Celestia,
Do you know what your no good, son of a bitch, conniving sneak of a nephew did today?

No.

Dear Aunt of the Biggest Jerk in the Whole World,

No. No. NO!

Twilight Sparkle hid her head beneath her pillow and held it tight around her ears. The sheets beneath her chin were damp with bitter tears of frustration and hurt. She was overtired from partying all night the night before and then rising with the dawn to set up her friendship lessons. She was full of anxiety for Rainbow Dash’s well being. She was full of anger at Blueblood for taking advantage of her friend. Most of all, she was angry at herself for getting her hopes up, thinking that Blueblood had changed just because of one, stupid apology that he should’ve given two years ago. She punched the bed and choked back another sob.

All around her, scattered on the floor were the crumpled balls of half-written notes to the Princess. Some were matter-of-fact analyses of Blueblood’s behavior, others ranting demands for graphic vengeance and still others self-pitying tirades that made even Twilight sick to read.

Downstairs in the library, Cherilee arrived to retrieve her blackboard.

“Oh, hey, Spike,” she greeted.

“Hey, Cherilee. Thanks for coming by on short notice,” said Spike, walking with her over to the blackboard.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I’m just surprised Twilight’s finished with it already. I thought she’d need it for at least the rest of the week.”

“Yeah, well,” sighed Spike “There was a change of plan, I guess…” he glanced over at the stairs up to Twilight’s room where, up above, Twilight had fallen into a fitful sleep whose sour dreams offered no comfort.

Spike helped Cherilee wheel the blackboard to the door. He’d erased the unflattering caricature of Blueblood before she arrived, but a ghostly speech bubble declaring “I have a small penis!” was still partly visible in the top left corner. Cherilee frowned. Spike laughed nervously and played with his fingertips. Cherilee didn’t say anything, but he could feel her accusing eyes on the back of his neck.

With Cherilee departed, Spike got started on the long task of reshelving Blueblood’s erstwhile study material.

Pinkie Pie stopped by to pick Twilight up for the “Sorry About Your Butt!” get-well party she was throwing for Banana Split, but Spike was polite and firm in telling her that Twilight was in no mood for going out and that she preferred to be left alone. Pinkie filed Twilight’s distress away for future action and skipped merrily out the door on her way to round up the other partygoers.

***

Blueblood was once again shirking his duties at the apple stand. The last bushel was almost gone and business was thin. They hadn’t had a customer in half an hour at least. If there had been more apples left over, he and Tombs would have probably just taken them back to Sweet Apple Acres, but as there were fewer than a dozen left, Tombs decided to stick around to see if the evening’s business wouldn’t polish off the last bushel. Tombs was also sticking around because he needed Blueblood to pull the cart and Blueblood was off making time with Marmalade, a honey orange earth filly who ran the preserves stand a few blocks down the square.

“So what was all the commotion with the ambulance earlier?” asked Marmalade “I couldn’t see over the crowd. Somepony got herself hurt over at the Ice Cream shop?”

“Yes, Banana Split, the poor dear. I don’t know what happened for sure, I was nowhere nearby at the time of her injury, but I think she didn’t look where she was sitting and put her flank in some ice cream. It was so cold she apparently got brain freeze.”

Marmalade was somewhat incredulous.

“Really? I don’t think you can get brain freeze in your flank.”

“Well I’m no doctor, but…”

“I heard she was in there with some other pony.”

“Well, don’t believe everything you hear.”

“I heard she was in there with you.”

“Well now…”

“I heard they needed the Jaws of Life to rescue her.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s an exaggeration…” said Blueblood, unconsciously rubbing his bruised belly with his hind hoof. The EMT’s magidraulic spreaders certainly weren’t designed with soft pony flesh in mind.

“Well, I might have been there, but only to help the EMTs extract her from the ice cream. The poor thing’s backside was frozen solid and that’s why they needed the Jaws of Life and…”

Marmalade laughed at him.

“You’re so silly when you’re nervous, you know?”

“Nervous? I’m not nervous…” Blueblood tugged at his yoke.

“It’s okay. I’m sure she came onto you…”

“What?”

“You’re Big Macintosh,” she smiled. She pointed her hoof over at the applecart where Tombs watched the two with disapprobation etched across his face. Tombs saw them looking and turned back to staring straight ahead like a statue.

“I watch you sit there every day. You’re as silent and pure as a monk. I don’t know if you hear it, but mares talk about you. They scheme about ways to break your oath of silence. I’ve seen you ignore everypony, every day for years. Some of them have been so blatant they practically out and begged you to make out with them, but you turned your nose up at every one.”

“Ah, well, being a gentlecolt is a long and lonely path,” sighed Blueblood.

“Today was the first day I ever saw you open up to anypony. I know Banana Split lured you into her shop. I overheard her planning it with her friends. She must have pounced on you and you reacted and she got hurt. I’m sure it was an accident.”

“So you know the truth…” lied Blueblood.

“You know,” said Marmalade “I always hoped that on the day you started noticing fillies, you’d notice me.”

Blueblood sucked his teeth.

“You want to get out of here?”

Marmalade shot him a coy smile.

Tombs looked back over at the Prince, checking to make sure that he and Marmalade weren’t getting to amorous.

Aaand they were gone.

Tombs took a deep breath and sat down on his haunches. Left to his own devices, his master was going to let things get out of control. The time had come to take remedial action.

***

Big Macintosh made the long walk back to Sweet Apple Acres under a dark cloud. Literally. After flying off, Rainbow Dash checked a small stormcloud out from the Ponyville weather inventory and spent the rest of the afternoon literally raining on Big Macintosh’s (figurative) parade.

A jagged bolt of lightning exploded above his head and Big Macintosh hugged the ground. The dirt around him quickly turned to mud as the drops from his personal rainstorm pattered around him.

“Rainbow Dash! Cut it out! I’m serious!” he yelled up at the boiling black cloud hanging over his head.

“Thejerksayswhat?” said Rainbow Dash.

“What?”

Rainbow Dash blew a loud raspberry at him.

“Rainbow, if you’d just listen-”

Rainbow Dash gave the cloud a mighty kick and another bolt of lightning split the air above Macintosh’s head.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this terrible storm!” she laughed.

Celestia H. Platinum! This nutty mare’s gonna kill me!

Big Mac snorted and picked up his pace back to the farm. Rainbow followed, pushing her stormcloud ahead of her. He reached the barn and slammed the heavy doors behind him. A small rivulet of rainwater ran down his muzzle and dripped off his chin. He shook himself, his sopping wet mane and tail spraying water all over the barn.

“Hey! Watch it!” grumbled Applejack.

“Sorry,” said Blueblood.

Applejack shook the water out of her mane.

“S’alright,” she said “Is it rainin’ outside?”

“Eeyup,” he said, another drop of water falling from his chin.

“Well ah hope Big Macintosh doesn’t get too wet comin’ back. You make sure you dry off, y’hear. Don’t need you catchin’ cold,” she smiled. At least somepony in town still liked him.

Big Mac grabbed a towel and trotted upstairs to his room.

***

No sooner had the sun disappeared behind the hills than Tombs’s ears picked up the rattle and clatter of Zecora’s cart rolling into the square.

Tonight, the zebra favored a trailing dark cloak whose hood cast her face into deep shadow. She parked her cart next to the fountain and started to set up her shelves and herbs.

Zebras put Tombs ill at ease. They brought up bad memories from the Congo and South Zebrica. The empty eyes of the ones driven mad by the constant rhyming. The raw, hoarse voices of the pathetic creatures cursed to recite epic poems without end for the rest of their lives.

Princess Cadence’s “justice” was as cruel as it was unyielding. Tombs didn’t know what offense Zecora had committed against the princess, but if she was like most who lived under the Rhyming Remorse, she probably didn’t like to dwell on it. Zecora was fortunate to only get rhyming couplets. The epic poets couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest. They had to choke their food and water down between stanzas. Death for them was a mercy.

“Ahem,” Tombs cleared his throat.

“Ah, Tombs, the loyal servant

I’ll be with you in a moment,” rhymed Zecora, retrieving a clay pot from inside her cart and setting it on one of her folding shelves. She turned around and flipped her hood back to see him better.

“So tell me, dapper valet

In what way can I help today?”

Tombs restrained the desire to correct the enchantress on her pronunciation of “valet.” No doubt living with Cadence’s curse was difficult enough without him drawing attention to it.

“If you’ll forgive the intrusion on your time, miss Zecora, I’m curious to learn more about the golden horseshoes you showed us the other night.”

“Ask me what you wish you know

To you my bones of knowledge I’ll throw.”

“The two stallions who switched places using the magic horseshoes: how does the story end?”

Zecora cocked her head, puzzled for a moment.

“How do they switch back?” asked Tombs.

Zecora sighed.

“Sadly, a happy ending I cannot convey

The stallions who switched died that way.”

“They died in each other’s bodies?”

“The magic horseshoes’ tale is a cautionary one

The lesson is not conveyed for fun.

To see the grass greener in another’s yard

Is a burden we all must bear, though hard.

Happiness, that fleeting dream

Is closer to home than it may seem.”

Tombs paled a little.

“But surely the story divulges how to break the spell?”

Zecora shook her head.

“Across the world the two stallions traveled

But the magic’s riddle was not unraveled.”

Tombs chewed unconsciously on his lip.

“Thank you, miss Zecora. That was most enlightening.”

Zecora nodded pleasantly and went back to her cart.

Tombs returned to the apple stand. He’d finished loading the empty bushels up on the cart and gave up on selling the last dozen apples, so he stowed the cart under an awning and sat down to wait for Blueblood. The prince was in for some bad news.

***

Prince Blueblood’s liaison with didn’t end with an ambulance ride to the hospital, though Marmalade’s walk back to her preserves stand was decidedly ginger. It would be several hours before she could get her eyes to uncross.

Blueblood straightened his yoke and flicked the knots out of his tail as he walked back to the square. He did his best to pick the straw out of his mane, but even if he could have gotten the works from the Ponyville Day Spa, it wouldn’t have washed away his smarmy expression as he walked back to Tombs.

Tombs didn’t let his disapproval show through his stone mask of quiet professionalism, but Blueblood knew Tombs well enough to know it was there. He did his best to ignore it.

“Everything’s all sorted out, Tombs?” asked Blueblood.

“Yes, sire,” answered Tombs.

A curt answer, even for Tombs. Something else was bothering him besides the Prince having a bit of fun.

“We should probably hoof it back to our domicile for the night.”

“Very good, sire.”

“I suppose I’ll pull the cart back, then?”

“If it meets with your approval, sire.”

“Alright, then…” Blueblood kept his eyes on Tombs as he walked over to the cart and fumbled with the reigns. Tombs noticed his struggle and came over to help him. He macgicked the knots together in silence.

Something’s really got the poor fellow shaken. Thought Blueblood.

The walk back to Sweet Apple Acres was quiet. Their hoofsteps mingled with the creaking of the cart and the rattling of the empty apple bushels. Overhead, the night air sighed softly. Somewhere, high, high above, in the constellation Virgo, Princess Luna applied a coat of spit and polish to Zeta Virginis, humming a song that had been forgotten by mortal ponies for six centuries.

Frogs croaked in the grass by the side of the road and Blueblood noticed he was walking through mud.

“I say, Tombs, did it rain today?”

“Not that I recall, sire.”

“Most mysterious, this mud, then?”

“Indeed, sire.”

Blueblood looked around.

“It’s not so bad, this country life, is it, Tombs?”

“It certainly has its redeeming aspects, sire.”

“A nice diversion, but not something one would make permanent, eh?”

Tombs didn’t answer.

Blueblood gauged Tombs’s silence. It was tricky, conversation with Tombs. There was such a gulf between them. Royalty and servant. In spite of it all, Tombs was possibly Blueblood’s best friend, or at least his truest. Blueblood had many hangers-on back in Canterlot, but none of them would have stood by him through so much as Tombs had.

“Is something troubling you, Tombs?”

“It is perhaps a conversation best saved for tomorrow, sire. Such a discussion would only reduce the efficacy of your night’s sleep.”

“If it’s about the girl, Tombs, she’s perfectly alright. I exercised plenty of restraint.”

“With respect, sire, it is not about the girl.”

“Well then what? This cold shoulder isn’t like you, Tombs.”

“My concerns will keep until tomorrow, sire. I’m in no rush to burden you unnecessarily.”

Blueblood snorted. He briefly considered commanding Tombs to answer, but the poor fellow looked so morose that he decided to let him have his way.

They put the cart away in the barn and parted ways. Tombs retired to his bedroll in the pantry while Blueblood climbed the creaky stairs as quietly as he could. His hoof splashed in a shallow puddle as he crossed the threshold into Big Mac’s room and he saw in the dim light of the oil lantern that the whole floor was damp.

Big Macintosh sneezed and Blueblood looked up.

Big Mac slept curled up on the straw pallet in the center of the room, a towel draped across his soggy shoulders. He sneezed again and shivered.

Blueblood took the quilt off Big Macintosh’s bed and laid it over his sleeping body. Big Mac’s shivering eased and Blueblood climbed onto his bed accompanied by a sonata of creaks and groans from the bedstead.

In spite of Tombs’s good intentions, sleep did not come easy to Blueblood. A lone thundercloud rumbled outside and a chill suffused the room.

***

Banana Split rested in traction at the Ponyville hospital, her flank hoisted high in the air by a network of pullies that left her stuck on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Doctor Stable had been in earlier, reviewing her chart.

“Well, the bad news is, it’s going to hurt for a few days. I’ve prescribed you a course of analgesics. The good news is: you’re going to be just fine,” he said, flipping a page up on his clipboard “Everything looks normal.”

“Normal, Doc?” groaned Banana Split “Seriously?”

“Well, normal if you were a mare who’d recently given birth to a healthy foal.”

Banana Split whimpered and lay back, the ache in her crotch and her stomach pounded dully through the painkillers.

“I know it’s distressing, miss Split, but mares give birth all the time and that area recovers quicker than you might think. All you’ve experienced is some mild distention. You’re young and your flesh is still elastic. You’ll be out of here tomorrow morning.”

Banana Split thanked the doctor and went back to feeling sorry for herself. On top of the ache between her legs, this had been the most humiliating day of her entire life. How could she face her father? The doctor had spared him the details of her injury, but there were only so many ways a filly could end up with labial distention, none of them were something you wanted your father to learn about. He didn’t say anything, but she felt his shame. How could she face Lickity Split when her little brother asked her why she had to go to the hospital? The embarrassment hurt worse than her gooshed up internal organs.

The one ray of sunshine in this whole debacle was Big Macintosh. They’d have to take it slow, of course… Banana Split wasn’t making the same mistake twice, but now that they would be dating, she’d have plenty of time to adjust to Big Mac’s… proportions.

At least the worst of my embarrassment is over she thought.

That was Pinkie Pie’s cue.

The double doors at the end of the ward burst open in a shower of confetti and Pinkie Pie marched in, blowing a plastic trumpet and leading a small procession of friends and well-wishers.

Oh Celestia, please let her be here to visit somepony else… thought Banana Split.

A pair of ponies carrying a long, colorful banner reading “We Hope Your Butt Feels Better Soon, Banana Split!” trotted into the ward and Banana Split tried her best to turn invisible. It was to no avail. A smiling colt wheeled in a hospital cart bearing a sheet cake cut in the shape of her flank and her humiliation was complete.The End of Part 11

To be Continued…

Chapter XII

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XII

Dark clouds swirled overhead. Tempestuous winds howled like a choir of banshees. The two princesses stood opposite one another, each atop one of the twin spires of the Le Palais des Soeurs Royales, The Palace of the Royal Sisters. Everfree City burned beneath them. Bright embers rose up from the flames and whirled in the air like some perverse, upside-down rain.

The Jewel City of the Valley would die that night, her “dulcet gables and marble’d halls,” so often immortalized in songs, were gutted by raging fires. Every incense bearing tree and fruited palm a charred skeleton, wreathed in flames. The stately pleasure domes cracked open like soft boiled eggs and the “proud towers, steep in majesty” crumbled to the crying earth.

Celestia’s resplendent golden armor blazed bright in the light of the fires beneath, the Yoke of Harmony rested firmly on her shoulders. Her long mane was tied back in a shimmering braid that writhed like a woven serpent. She carried Luna’s Tiara of Harmony in a satchel at her side, prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. She called out to her sister, her desperate voice rising above the sound and fury of the tempest around them.

“Luna, don’t do this! I’m begging you!”

Nightmare Moon laughed. A throaty, booming, sardonic laugh soaked with malice and cruelty.

“You have not yet begun to beg!” she bellowed.

A bolt of sickly green lightning burst from Nightmare’s horn and splashed against her sister’s wing. The bolt careened off into the city, shattering the opera house and sending its crystal walls plunging to the ground in a blizzard of shimmering shards.

“Jadis has poisoned you! She’s only using you to get the Deplorable Word! Cease this senseless tantrum. Together, we can still stop her!” Celestia cried.

Nightmare Moon laughed again. Centuries ago, Discord whispered the terrible syllables in her ear before the sisters turned him to stone. The Deplorable Word was just nonsense in this world, but its dire weight was palpable to Luna even then. Nightmare Moon understood now that the Deplorable Word was Discord’s gift to her.

“Foal! I’ve already sent Jadis back to Charn!” her lips coiled in a wicked sneer, revealing sharp, predatory fangs beneath “with the Deplorable Word!”

“No…” Celestia recoiled “Sister! Your madness will doom two worlds!”

“I simply gave Jadis the means to destroy her treacherous sister, just as she has given me the means to destroy mine!”

Lightning spewed from her horn again, twisting and coiling like burning rope. Celestia threw up an invisible barrier and the awful bolts clashed against it, turning the unnatural night to day and rupturing the ground beneath them.

“Luna, please!”

“DO NOT CALL ME BY THAT NAME!”

Luna uttered something inaudible that shook the palace and set Celestia’s bones ringing. The tower cracked beneath her and Celestia knew she couldn’t stand against her sister much longer.

She wept. Somewhere inside that cackling monster, Luna cried out for help, but there was no reaching her now.

It had been night for the span of seven days. Already plants and crops were dying. The Earth was cooling. Nightmare Moon didn’t start the fires that raged below them, the ponies did. In their desperation, they burned anything that would make light and heat.

Celestia needed every ounce of her magical concentration to maintain the barrier against her sister’s onslaught, but she spared some to open the bag at her side and draw out Luna’s Glimmering Tiara. Even that slight expenditure of magical energy was too much. She felt her barrier shudder. Nightmare Moon laughed maniacally and redoubled her attack. Time was running short.

“Do you think those trinkets are any threat to me? I am mistress of this world!”

Her face twisted with the effort of forming the evil words.

“Zah’xrehc*********** thantaha**********!”

A mighty wind rocked the palace and it shivered on its crumbling foundations.

“You’re only a mistress of evil, Nightmare! If you strike me, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine...”

Celestia donned the Tiara. Her magic would activate her golden collar, but she could not charge the Tiara; only her sister’s magic could do that. She would have only an instant to react once her sister struck. If she failed, Nightmare would grant her no mercy. Even if she stopped her sister, the magic expended tonight would leave this place twisted for millennia. If she was lucky, it would stay confined to the city.

Celestia dropped the barrier and leapt from the tower as it exploded beneath her. The gem in her collar blazed with purple light as she dove at Nightmare Moon.

“Foal!” shouted Nightmare, letting loose another blast of lightning. Time slowed to a crawl as she watched the bolt stretch out to her sister, striking her horn and twisting around it. Celestia winced. For a moment, Nightmare Moon’s heart leapt with the thrill of victory, but the lightning turned, traveled down Celestia’s horn and crawled across her forehead, surging into the tiara and setting the central stone on fire.

Nightmare’s eyes went wide with realization.

“NOOOOOOOO!” she screamed “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Rainbow light consumed her whole world, binding her, suffocating her. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. Her body burned away to nothing and she tried to scream without lungs. Then:

Nothing.

Blackness.

She opened her eyes. Stars. Millions of stars. The Earth, blue and small, spun slowly in the sky above. The arid wasteland of the Moon stretched out all around her.

***

No!

NO!

“TIA!” Luna cried.

“Sister! No! Please, let me come back! Take me back! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! CELESTIA!”

Something was binding her legs. She screamed and thrashed, kicking wildly. All she could see were stars. Something grabbed her by the shoulders. She bit at it and her teeth sank into the angel white fur of her sister’s foreleg.

Celestia’s face split the sky and she realized the endless sea of stars was just her own mane. It had fallen down over her face while she slept. Celestia brushed it back. Luna’s eyes adjusted to the gloom and the dim glow cast by her sister’s hair. All around her, the familiar trappings of her room came into focus. Her tapestries, her chessboard, her HAM radio and her figurine collection. They comforted her and eased her frantic breathing.

Luna put her face in Celestia’s neck.

“Tia! Tia!” she blubbered like a foal, hot breath and snot leaked down onto Celestia’s shoulder. Celestia held her sister in her arms and rocked her from side to side.

“I dreamed it. I dreamed we were fighting again. I dreamed I was on the moon!” she choked.

“I was just a nightmare. You’re here. I’m here. I love you.”

“Tia, you don’t know what it was like,” she snuffled “I was all alone up there. I lost my mind. I dreamed.”

The terrible dreams.

Celestia held Luna tighter and stroked her long mane. She knew all about the dreams. For the first year after her return from the moon, Luna didn’t believe she was really back. Woke up screaming every night. In those days, Celestia slept in the same bed with her sister, cuddling with her like two spoons in a drawer.

A thousand years of isolation were not kind to Luna. She slept away most of her time on the moon and dark fantasies consumed her mind. She dreamed that she had escaped, that the fight never happened, that her sister had forgiven her and invited her back. She dreamed she was on Earth again. The dreams would last for decades. They became so real that she was sure she was on Earth, that her imprisonment on the moon was the nightmare. But the dreams always ended. Sooner or later, she awoke on the moon. Alone.

When she finally escaped and Twilight and her friends freed her from Nightmare’s influence, she still expected every morning to find herself back in that airless desert. She had to sleep with the lights on or she would panic. She wouldn’t go out except in the brightest sunlight. Over time, she came to accept that her reunion with Celestia was really real and the nightmares subsided. She slept in her own room with the lights off and she even resumed her duties raising the night.

Lately, however, the nightmares were back. Ever since Celestia’s outburst at Prince Blueblood, Luna had been having trouble sleeping, and it was getting worse. This morning, Celestia slept curled up with her sister for the first time in months.

“I’m scared, Tia,” she shivered.

Celestia was scared, too.

***

It had been a night of troubling dreams for everypony.

Tombs tossed uneasily on his bedroll.

He was back in Zebrica. A pink dawn kindled to life on the horizon. Beneath him, the tanks of the Royal Armored Cavalry, 7th Division rumbled like a herd of metal monsters. Their caterpillar tracks chewed the jungle ahead of them. The faster mark Vs were out in front, the large, slow moving Juggernauts tromped behind on their stumpy elephant legs, jingling their mine flails ahead of them like a mouthful of dangling noodles.

He knew this place. He knew it was a dream of a memory, but he let it play out anyway. In six hours a quarter of his chums would be dead. In seven hours, a piece of shrapnel from an exploding tank would slice open his belly, necessitating the surgical removal of eighteen inches of his lower intestine and ultimately ending with his medical discharge from the Equestrian Armed Forces.

Tombs didn’t know it, but Zecora had been at the battle, too, fighting on the other side.

“We attack at first light,” instructed Princess Cadence, the Iron Maiden.

“Very good, ma’m,” said Tombs.

The two stood side by side on the bridgewing of the Princess’s flying fortress, the Villanelle. Machinery whirred above him as the gunnery teams in the sixteen-inch gun mounts loaded and made ready to fire. The armored mounts hung upside down above their heads, like a topsy-turvy battleship.

Tombs was in his jungle khakis, his horn jutted from his pith helmet, sharpened to a killing point. He’d smeared his face with anti-flash cream.

Cadence wore a crown of iron on her brow and nothing else.

“Ananse’s forces won’t know what hit them. We’ll burn the whole jungle if we have to,” said Cadence, licking her lips.

“Don’t worry, ma’m. We’ll smoke the blighter out.”

“I have every confidence in our victory.”

On the horizon, the silhouette of a massive spider strode above the jungle canopy, its long, sinuous legs impossibly thin beneath its great, bulbous body.

“Readeeeeeh!” Tombs bellowed.

Beneath him, a chorus of responding calls (“readehhh!”) rose up from the tank commanders.

“FOIAH!”

The broad barrels of the guns erupted with… confetti?

“Surprise!” hollered Pinkie Pie.

Tombs looked over. Cadence was gone and a grinning Pinkie Pie in a party hat jumped up and down in her place.

“Miss Pie! What are you doing here? It’s not safe!”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe?”

“We’re in the middle of a battle!”

“Battle, I thought this was a pantry?”

Tombs opened his eyes.

Pinkie Pie was in the pantry with him.

Tombs started.

“What th-”

“Were you surprised?”

“Yes, miss Pie, I was-”

She jammed her hoof in his mouth.

“It’s Pinkie, remember? We’re friends!”

“Yes, of course we’re friends… Pinkie. Why are you here?”

“Because you keep calling me ‘miss Pie’” she said, doing a stuffy imitation of Tombs’s voice “I thought we agreed you would call me Pinkie!”

“What time is it?”

“Three thirty in the morning.”

Tombs flopped back down into his blankets.

“I do call you Pinkie,” he said.

“Not in public.”

“It’s not appropriate.”

“You have to call me ‘Pinkie’ in public!” she demanded.

“It’s really not appropriate,” Tombs reiterated.

“Neither is this, but I’m gonna do it anyway…”

“What?” panicked Tombs “What are you going to d… haha! No! Pinkie! Nooooo!”

Oh well thought Tombs some battles are more fun to lose.

***

Rainbow Dash rolled on the ground with Fluttershy. Their legs intertwined as they hugged each other face to face. Muzzle to muzzle. Rainbow Dash was so happy! Fluttershy was so soft and so warm and so beautiful. She was the most beautiful Pegasus she’d ever seen. Her pink hair was a soft as silk. Her breath smelled like gumdrops. Fluttershy rubbed up between Rainbow Dash’s back legs with her hind hoof, sending a shudder of pleasure through the sky-blue mare. Rainbow leaned in and kissed her.

Their lips popped apart.

“Oh Rainbow Dash…” said Fluttershy, her smiling face twisted sardonically “I always knew you were a fillyfooler!”

“Fillyfooler!” said Applejack, towering over her.

“Fillyfooler!” laughed Twilight.

All her friends were laughing now. Even Gilda was there. She folded her claw to make “the shocker” and waggled her tongue lasciviously.

Pinkie Pie shoved a cake beneath her nose. On top of the cake, drawn in icing, was a picture of Rainbow Dash laying on her back, legs spread wide with a sky blue candle jutting up from her crotch.

“Make a wish and blow out the candle, fillyfooler!” giggled Pinkie Pie.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” she screamed.

She fell out of her cloud bed and landed in a puff of mist on the floor. Static electricity crackled through the cloudstuff, skittering away from her point of impact.

She put her face in her hooves.

“Celestia, what’s wrong with me?”

***

Big Macintosh awoke early. His consciousness may have brought its internal clock with it when it made the move into Blueblood’s body, but Blueblood’s body certainly hadn’t got the news. He was stiff. The back of his throat was crusty with post nasal drip and he sweated profusely beneath the heavy quilt Prince Blueblood had pulled over him in the night. He looked up at Blueblood sleeping above him and grimaced. Blueblood, at least, seemed to be having a good dream.

It was just after dawn. Applejack was already up. He could hear her moving around on the other side of the wall. She gargled and spat. She'd wake up Applebloom and send her off to school, then she would probably come in and check on Blueblood.

Big Mac sighed. He longed to be back out in the fields helping his sister. This game he was playing stopped being fun. He wished for his old life back. At least nopony expected him to work in this body and he could sleep off this cold before it got too severe. Maybe Tombs would even bring him some hot tea…

***

“Please, Pinkie, you really have to go now,” urged Tombs. Pinkie lounged on her side, her flank and hind legs sticking out from beneath the covers.

“Aw, why?” she smiled.

“The Apple family will be awake soon and it wouldn’t be proper for them to catch us here together.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of me?” Pinkie Pouted.

“No, not at all, but I rather think that partaking in carnal relations in your host’s pantry is poor etiquette by any standard.”

Pinkie giggled.

“Silly, we didn’t partake in carnal relations; all we did was have sex!”

Tombs rubbed his face on his foreleg.

“At any rate, it’s not appropriate.”

“I think we both know how much I care about what’s appropriate,” giggled Pinkie.

He heard doors opening upstairs and Applebloom’s high-pitched voice filter down through the ceiling.

“Please, Pinkie will you go?” Tombs urged.

Pinkie examined her hoof. Tombs fidgeted.

“I promise I’ll make it a point to spend time with you later and call you ‘Pinkie’ in public.”

“Pinkie Promise?”

“Uh... yes… Pinkie Promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?”

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” answered Tombs.

Pinkie fixed him with bulging eyes.

“Okie dokie lokie!”

She skipped off, the screen door slapping shut behind her just as Applejack started down the stairs.

***

The Cave of Harmony was a sacred place. Though it was high above Canterlot city at the end of a narrow, winding hike, it still drew hundreds of pilgrims every day.

The Cave was where, two thousand years ago, the Three Wise Ponies achieved enlightenment before the Spirit of Harmony. They united the pony tribes, ending the Great Blizzard and ushering in an era of peace and prosperity.

Centuries later, Pegasus separatists concocted a Love Poison and served it to the crown prince Apollo Platinum and his twin sister, Princess Artemis in the hope of disrupting the royal succession and bringing down the Platinum dynasty. The two became infatuated with one another and cared for nothing else. The unholy spawn of their incestuous union was a twisted chimera: the serpent Discord, who plunged the land into chaos and unhappiness.

The royal foals, Celestia and Luna, fled their wicked nephew and sought solace in the Cave, where the Second Miracle occurred. The Spirit of Harmony manifested again and transformed the sisters into Alicorns, bestowing upon them the Elements of Harmony and sending them off to do battle with Discord.

“The Cave is closed,” said the guards. A crowd of pilgrim ponies gathered outside the mouth of the Cave of Harmony. They stood on the tips of their hooves, trying to see inside.

“The Princess is communing with the Spirit of Harmony and will not be disturbed,” they barked.

The crowd seethed with a susurrus of whispers. The Princess is communing with the Spirit of Harmony. She’s talking to the other side. It’s really there, it’s really real. They felt the holiness of the place then and were humbled.

“No visitors today,” huffed the guards. They spread their wings and made a barrier of their bodies.

Princess Celestia walked the well-worn stone of the cave floor. She left the trappings of her station behind, the golden collar, the tiara, the gilded greaves and even her horseshoes. She walked barehoofed into the cavern.

Celestia walked along a frozen river of wax. There were candles everywhere. Centuries’ worth of candles had burned in that cave. Placed everywhere they would fit. Crammed into crevices, piled on top of one another. Thousands of melted stubs lined the walls and floor of the cave. The ceiling overhead was black with a thick sheen of candle smoke and the air smelled like a potpourri of a million mingled scents.

Six statues formed two interlocking triangles in the center of the cave. The statues of the outer triangle were the three tribal leaders: Commander Hurricane, Chancellor Puddinghead, Princess Platinum (Celestia’s great, great, great grandmother). The statues of the inner triad once portrayed the Three Wise Ponies: Clover the Clever (also a relative of Celestia’s), Smart Cookie and Private Pansy. The inner statues were melted to stubs and only the engraved pedestals remained. So it had been since the second appearance of the Spirit of Harmony.

Celestia found the pedestal of Clover the Clever and knelt before it, running her eyes over the inscription, worn thin by the venerating touch of a million hooves.

Trifolium Ingeniosis

It said.

Nopony else alive knew the faces of the Three Wise Ponies. Celestia and Luna were the last to look upon the icons before they burned away in a ball of pink light.

All Celestia could remember was how Clover had looked so like her mother.

Celestia breathed deeply, calming herself.

“Spirit of Harmony, I need your guidance,” she prayed.

There was no answer. No uncanny wind or rumbling of the Earth. She heard the birdsong and the crowd murmuring outside the mouth of the cave.

“My sister is having the nightmares again. I don’t know what to do. I threatened to banish my nephew.”

The Spirit of Harmony didn’t answer her.

She couldn’t feel Its presence around her. Didn’t feel a formless love suffuse her. Her spirit wasn’t calmed by a mysterious, ineffable force.

The cave was empty.

“Please, Spirit.”

The Spirit of Harmony never appeared to her. After it transformed them into alicorns, it vanished. She’d come to this cave and prayed ten thousand times in the past millennium. Ten thousand times her words echoed on the dead cave walls and ten thousand times, she’d been ignored.

She remained there, on her knees, meditating, for the rest of the morning. The flickering candles twinkled like stars in the darkness.The End of Part 12

To be continued…

Chapter XIII

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XIII

Applejack helped Applebloom out of her pajamas and prepped her for school.

“Aw, c’mon sis! Why’dya wake me up so early every day? School’s not fer hours!” she fussed, squirming at a critical second while Applejack tied her bow, causing it to come out lopsided.

“Applebloom! Hold still! You know I gotta work early and you hafta get yer breakfast.”

It was hard enough tying a bow using just her hooves and teeth without her little sister wriggling like a wiggleworm.

“Can’t Ah get my own breakfast?”

“No, y’can’t”

“But why not?”

“You know why…” Applejack narrowed her eyes. She’d lost an entire morning cleaning up after the last time Applebloom was left to her own devices. The kitchen still smelled like sour milk on hot days, Celestia knew where it was coming from.

(It’s just an expression. Princess Celestia did not, in fact, know where the smell was coming from.)

Applebloom pouted. The delicious smell of fresh waffles wafted up the stairs and tickled the sisters’ noses.

“Somepony’s cookin’ breakfast!” said Applebloom, flaring her nostrils and taking a long sniff.

She hopped off the bed before Applejack could finish with her bow and galloped off downstairs. Applejack followed, rolling her eyes.

Tombs was bustling in the kitchen, wearing Granny Smith’s apron and magically conducting a small waffle assembly line. Applejack dodged a floating eggbeater and trotted into the kitchen. Applebloom was already at the table, bouncing up and down in front of a tall stack of waffles. Granny Smith was awake, too… in her own way.

“Wazzah? Soup’s on?” She mumbled, getting up from her rocking chair and tottering over to the breakfast table. Tombs had already set her a place and cut her waffle into bite-sized chunks.

“Tombs…” stumbled Applejack “This is amazin’! You don’t have to go through all this trouble!”

“It’s no trouble, Miss Applejack. I live to serve.” Tombs bowed low, saluting with his spatula.

“All the same, Ah’m plum grateful, you’ve saved me a lot of time this mornin’”

“Most gratifying to be appreciated, Miss.” He trotted over to where Applebloom mowed through her second waffle and straightened her bow so that it was trim and even on both sides.

Applejack received her own plate and dug in with gusto.

“Delicious, Tombs!”

Tombs nodded again and went back to whisking the batter. He cleaned as he went and no sooner was he finished with a bowl or spoon than it was rinsed and drying in the dish rack. If anything, the kitchen was cleaner than Applejack left it last night.

“Has Big Macintosh been down yet?” Applejack asked, looking around.

“Mister Macintosh has not yet risen, ma’m.”

“Ah don’t know what’s goin’ on with that brother of mine,” she sighed.

“I fear that might be partially our fault, ma’m,” offered Tombs “No doubt Mister Macintosh’s normal rhythms are disrupted from sharing his room with the Prince. I expect they will normalize shortly…”

Or you’ll just get used to having a complete stranger for a brother… he thought.

“We’ll, guess Ah’d better wake him, then,” Applejack downed her glass of orange juice (Tombs had squeezed it fresh that morning) and clattered back up the stairs to wake Big Macintosh.

Applebloom finished her breakfast and dropped down from her chair.

“Thanks Mister Tombs!” she hollered, grabbing her bookbag “Ah hope you stay a good while. If you keep this up, maybe Applejack’ll let me sleep in fer once.”

“We’ll see,” smiled Tombs as she dashed out into the cool early morning.

Tombs cleared the table, moving quietly so as not to disturb Granny Smith. She’d fallen asleep in her seat, smacking her lips and muttering softly.

***

“BIG MACINTOSH!” Applejack hollered "Get up!"

Blueblood jerked awake, fluttering the sleep out of his eyes. What time was it?

Applejack flung a towel at him and it landed on his loins, draping over him like a circus tent.

“And fer Celestia’s sake, cover up,” she barked “The Prince don’t want yer beef silo in his face first thing in th’ mornin’!”

Thank you. Thought Big Macintosh, who’d been having trouble falling back to sleep with his erstwhile equipment looming over him.

Blueblood rolled over onto his belly and hugged the bed self-consciously.

“Get yer yoke on, we’ve lost enough time already. Ah have t’ be up at Buttermilk’s place this mornin’. She needs mah help with the cows today on account of her husband’s twisted leg. Ah reckon the ground’s warm enough fer you t’ get started on clearin’ the stumps in the South Field.”

Blueblood shuddered. Another day laboring under the hot sun? Hauling stumps when he could be back in town enjoying a little Ponyville hospitality? Celestia forbid!

“Shouldn’t I be minding the Apple Stand today?” he asked, hopefully.

“Nope, we need that field fixed up. Consarned Flim Flam Brothers left the whole orchard a mess. We’re gonna have to clear out all those stumps if we’re gonna get new trees planted.”

“B-but!”

“Butts are fer poopin’,” Applejack held up her hoof “Git out there. Ah ‘spect you can get half of ‘em cleared out before sundown if you start now.”

Applejack trotted back down the stairs.

Blueblood sighed. There was no arguing with that one.

That little orange filly is Old Scratch herself he grumbled silently.

Blueblood leaned over the side of the bed. Big Macintosh was laying under the quilt with his eyes half open, he looked up at Blueblood.

“How are you feeling today?” asked Blueblood.

“A little hoarse,” Big Mac whispered.

“You are a little horse,” chuckled Blueblood “Anyway, be careful with my body. If you’re going to insist on getting it sick, the least you could do is take good care of it. Get plenty of rest and fluids. I expect it to be in good condition when I get it back.”

“Eeyub.”

Thanks so much for your concern.

“I’ll see that Tombs gets up here with some hot broth and some tea,” said Blueblood, donning Big Mac’s yoke. He was getting better at manipulating things without magic, but still couldn’t get it to sit quite right.

Big Mac rumbled his sore throat in acknowledgement.

“No need to thank me,” said Blueblood, “I’m off to do your chores. Sleep well!”

He tromped down the stairs.

***

Applejack flipped her favorite hat onto her head and strode out of the barn into the rain…

The rain!?

A torrential downpour, localized entirely on her doorstep, drenched Applejack and flattened her hat to her head. Lightning flashed close by her ear, and she yelped, diving for cover.

A bashful Rainbow Dash peeked out over the edge of the little black stormcloud.

“What in tarnation do you think yer doin’?” demanded Applejack “Have you flipped yer rainbow-striped lid?”

Rainbow Dash laughed nervously.

“I’m really sorry, Applejack. I thought you were Prince Blueblood.”

Applejack flicked a drop of water off her ear and looked nonplussed.

“Now why in the hey would you want t’ give the Prince a soakin’?”

“No reason…”

“Well if yer gonna play pranks, Ah’d prefer you play ‘em somewhere else. Mah farm ain’t yer personal playground, y’know.”

Rainbow Dash huffed and jumped down off the cloud, landing next to Applejack.

“It’s not a prank, it’s revenge! That jerk has it coming,” she stomped.

“Oh? Why?”

“None of your business!” Rainbow snapped “He’s sown the wind and now he’s gonna rape the hurricane!”

“He’s gonna what?”

“Reap! I said he’s gonna reap the hurricane!”

Applejack put a hoof to her chin and tried to concentrate.

“And what did he sow again?” she asked.

“Aaaargh!” Rainbow threw up her hooves “You know what? Nothing! I’m wasting my time!”

“Well, did he do somethin’ or didn’t he?”

“Yes! Well, it was what he didn’t do…” Rainbow scratched her chin.

“And what was that?”

“Yesterday I wanted him t… grah! But he didn’t… uhhhh! and Twilight yelled! And then… and then he kicked me!”

“He kicked you!?” Applejack took a step back.

“Right here!” she stood on her hind legs and showed the horseshoe shaped bruise on her belly, mottled purple beneath the light blue hair of her barrel.

Applejack whisled.

“He got you good, didn’t he? What were you doin’ horsin’ around that he could land you one on the belly like that?”

“Nothing,” she huffed.

Applejack put a hoof on her shoulder, brushing Rainbow’s cheek with the cannon of her foreleg. Her fur was warm and soft. A pricking went up Rainbow’s spine. She lowered her voice and put her muzzle near Rainbow Dash’s ear.

“Did he attack you? Did he touch you? Cuz if he did Ah’ll go in there and haul him out and we’ll both beat him inta glue, guest or no guest. Prince or no prince,” said Applejack, her expression deadly serious.

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, about to say something she’d regret… but she closed it again. She couldn’t meet Applejack’s eyes.

Applejack sighed.

“Rainbow, if yer not gonna be honest t’ me, at least be honest with yerself. What’s got you in such a tangle?”

Rainbow couldn’t answer. She didn’t know.

“Listen here, Sugarcube. We’ve shed a lot of blood and sweat and tears together. Ah dunno if you know this, but even though I think yer a pain in the butt, Ah still consider you mah best friend…”

Rainbow Dash really couldn’t look Applejack in the eyes now, hers were all watery for some reason.

Applejack continued.

“Maybe you don’t feel like talkin’ right now, but if you ever need somepony to talk to, I’ll be right here, waitin’.”

Applejack put her hoof on Rainbow’s forehead and brushed her gaily-colored bangs out of her face. Rainbow looked up at her, her rose-pink eyes wobbly with tears. A dark-blue streak appeared on her face where a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Do you want me to go get Blueblood?” asked Applejack.

Rainbow Dash wiped her nose.

“No.”

“C’mere…”

Without waiting for her response, Applejack threw her forelegs around Rainbow’s neck and clutched her close. Applejack was still all wet and Rainbow’s coat soaked dark-blue where they touched.

The pegasus accepted the hug numbly. Their cheeks brushed and Rainbow suddenly jerked away. She struggled and stumbled backwards out of Applejack’s embrace, almost tripping over her own hooves.

“I-I gotta go!” she exclaimed, flipping around and tumbling into the air. She landed unsteadily on top of her stormcloud and gripped it with her legs. She took off without another word.

Applejack watched her go.

“That’s one mixed up filly,” sighed Applejack. She pulled her hat down, allowing a small waterfall to spill over the brim onto the dirt.

She didn’t see Tombs disappear back around the corner and into the kitchen.

***

Big Macintosh was snoring heartily when Tombs shimmered up the stairs with a tray of hot soup and tea as the Prince had instructed. He snorted awake at the sound of the tray tinkling on the table.

“Sorry to wake you, sir, but I expect this will help alleviate your indisposition,” said Tombs, levitating the bowl of soup up off the tray.

Big Mac sat up, the action set all kinds of little currents running through his sinuses.

“Thag you, Toobs,” he sniffed.

Tombs fed him a spoonful of the steaming broth. Big Mac sipped it carefully and sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“What am I goig to do, Toobs?” he asked.

“Is this a question about your illness, sir, or some other quandary that has you preoccupied?”

“It’s Twilide Spargle, Toobs,” Big Mac slurped another spoonful of soup “She hades me!”

“If sir will enlighten me as to the details of sir’s predicament, I will of course devote careful consideration towards a satisfactory resolution.”

Big Mac nickered. Where to begin?

He told the story of Rainbow Dash interrupting the friendship lessons with Twilight and her showing off the dirty magazine. Going after her and then splitting off from Twilight Sparkle (“most inadvisable, sir”). Running into Rainbow Dash at Fluttershy’s cottage, trying to talk to her and making progress before Rainbow’s sudden decision to jump his bones just in time for Twilight to see them entangled.

“It sounds like you and Miss Dash were in a most compromising position.”

“Eeyub.”

Tombs pondered the matter while lifting another spoonful of broth to Big Mac’s lips. After a minute or two of Big Mac slurping in silence, he spoke again.

“The ideal solution, it seems, would be to get Miss Dash to explain everything to Miss Sparkle and admit that responsibility for the situation rested entirely upon her with you as the unwilling participant.”

“Well, obviously,” snorted Big Mac. Honestly, he expected better of Tombs by now, maybe he’d overestimated the little valet.

“In order to affect this outcome, sir, we merely have to finish what you’ve already started: solve Miss Dash’s problem.”

“How are we goig to do that?”

“Sir, I can surmise three possible explanations for Miss Dash’s behavior,” said Tombs “Explanation A: Miss Dash was completely overcome by your charms and has fallen madly in love with you.”

Big Mac raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Explanation B: Miss Dash suffers from an acute case of nymphomania and cannot be trusted around any stallion.”

Big Mac shook his head. He’d never seen nor heard of Rainbow Dash doing anything remotely like this before yesterday.

“Or Explanation C: Miss Dash is experiencing a conflicted sense of self and believes she can only validate her identity and regain control by attaining physical acceptance from the opposite sex.”

Big Mac waggled his ears. He hadn’t understood half of that. Tombs continued.

“A great many things can trigger an emotional conflict. Do you know the nature of Miss Dash’s relationship with her father?”

“Nnobe.”

“She could also be struggling with her sexual identity. Repression of latent homosexuality often expresses itself as unstable or erratic behavior.”

Big Mac shook his head.

“No way,” he said “In fagt, she called me gay!”

“Did she, sir?”

“Eeyub.”

“Interesting,” said Tombs “I shall devote more thought to the matter. In the meantime, drink your tea…”

***

It’s a really glorious day! Thought Marmalade as she skipped down the dirt road to Sweet Apple Acres. She carried a jar of her finest orange preserves in her mouth, wrapped in a red and white checked cheesecloth. It bounced against her throat with every skip. She was bringing it to Big Macintosh.

Birds were signing, the sun was shining and flowers blossomed everywhere. It was a really great day to go see your boyfriend, and when your boyfriend was Big Macintosh, every day was great!

Last night had been magical. Pure animal passion as the two rolled together behind the hay bales. His big body engulfed hers so completely; he was like a fortress of muscle and sinew. A tireless, relentless love machine that throbbed and moved around her, within her, through her! She’d never understood the phrase “the agony of ecstasy and the ecstasy of agony” before that night. It hurt to skip, but she was so happy she didn’t care.

She skipped all the way up to the Apple Family barn and knocked eagerly on the door. It didn’t open instantly so she set her jar of preserves down and knocked again.

“Hello?” she called.

Presently the dapper colt with the moustache and tailcoat she’d seen minding the cart yesterday opened the top half of the door.

“Yes?” he said, stiffly.

“Is Big Mac in?” she stood on tiphooves and craned her neck to see around him.

“Mister Macintosh is out in the fields. I do not anticipate his return before lunchtime.”

Marmalade worked her lower lip in her teeth.

“I brought this for him,” she reached down and grabbed the knot of the cheesecloth in her mouth, lifting the jar up for Tombs to see.

“I’ll see that he gets it, Miss…?”

“Marmalade,” she answered, talking around the cheesecloth “and just who are you?”

“My name is Tombs. I’m Prince Blueblood’s valet.”

“Is that like a butler?”

“No.” Tombs charged the jar with his magic and lifted it out of Marmalade’s mouth “I’ll look after your parcel.”

“Thanks,” said Marmalade, releasing the cloth from her end. She thought better of it and snatched it back up before it could disappear through the door.

“Actually, I’d rather just take it to him, personally!” she said.

“I’m afraid that would be inadvisable. Mister Macintosh is working right now and should not be disturbed.”

“He won’t mind a visit from me.”

“And you are?”

“Marmalade!”

“Mister Macintosh is not expecting you,” he said with finality.

“Well he’s gonna see me if I have to wait here all day!” she pushed open the door and shoved past Tombs. Not even the boldest Canterlot mare had ever done anything of the kind! The fact that the Prince lived in a palace surrounded by royal guards certainly helped, however. It was much harder keeping a persistent mare out of a barn you didn’t even own.

“I’m afraid ma’m will be waiting for a long time,” said Tombs.

“That’s fine,” she put her ears back, stuck her nose in the air and planted her ass on the chaff covered barn floor.

“Very good, ma’m,” said Tombs.

***

Celestia’s meditations did not enlighten her, but they at least left her calmer. It had been a stressful morning. She cuddled with Luna until her sister fell back asleep. Luna seemed all right, but Celestia plugged in her nightlight before departing for the Cave. Just in case.

The Cave was back open for pilgrims and tourists to come pay their respects and Celestia returned to the palace.

“What’s the mob like today, Cicero?” she asked her majordomo, who waited patiently outside the towering gilded doors of the Royal Court.

“Light today, Your Majesty,” he wheezed “The representative of the Foundation for Ovine Dignity is here to review the Equestria-wide treatment of Sheep. The rest is all rubber stamp affairs.” His voice growled like an old lion. Poor Cicero. He was her fifty-second majordomo in the past millennium. It would be time to appoint a new one, soon. Still, Cicero’s mind was sharp and he was the greatest orator she’d ever employed. His wisdom and caution were a great inspiration to the sometimes-hotheaded monarch (oligarch, now). Since appointing him to her court thirty years ago, her overall outlook on life was much more tranquil than it had been in prior epochs.

“Excellent, Cicero,” she said “That being the case, I’m going to look in on my sister before I commence the business of the day.”

Cicero bowed low, touching his chin to the crimson carpet. She noted it was becoming threadbare. It would be time for a new carpet soon as well. It seemed like she’d only replaced it a decade ago…

Luna’s wing of the Royal Apartments was all black marble and obsidian. Anypony who didn’t know their way around like the back of their hoof could easily get turned around or completely lost in the shadowy corridors. Luminous crystal stars bedecked the arched ceiling above and seemed to dance and shift of their own accord, then return to their proper places when you looked again.

Celestia peeked through the door of Luna’s bedroom. In the light of the nightlight, she could see Luna’s hair billowing softly around her as she slept, the regular rise and fall of her side just visible in the gloom. Celestia smiled and eased the door closed.

“Celestia?” Luna muttered through the last sliver of the open door.

“Yes, sister?”

“Do you remember that song Mother used to sing to us when we were feeling sad?”

Celestia trotted in and lay down on the bed next to her sister, throwing a hoof over her shoulder.

Hey Jude, don’t make it bad…

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember, to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Hey Jude, don’t be afraid…

She sang. Her angel voice was like golden honey and her notes were as pure as a mountain spring, bringing back memories of the halcyon days before Discord when the sisters would frolic together and pretend that they were next in line to be rulers of Equestria.

Luna joined in on the “Na na naaas” and by the end of the song she’d cheered up a lot.

***

Up at Buttermilk’s farm, Applejack oiled Daisy-Jo’s teats up with Vaseline.

“Ohh, that feels good,” said Daisy-Jo “In this dry air, that udder of mine gets chapped somethin’ fierce, don’tcha know.”

“So how’ve you been?” asked Applejack, digging her hoof through the tub for another glob.The end of Part 13

To be continued…

Chapter XIV

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XIV

Prince Blueblood found the South Field relatively easily. He’d always had a knack when it came to the cardinal directions. His special talent being a slightly more literal interpretation of the compass rose sigil that had been passed down through his family for generations. Previous Bluebloods were skilled cartographers, world travelers or explorers and Blueblood always felt being a living compass was something of a gyp. Oh well, it was nothing mares and martinis couldn’t medicate.

This stump on the other hoof…

Blueblood realized once he’d gotten to the South Field that he didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. The whole orchard was positively littered with stumps. Last autumn, the Apple family challenged a pair of amateur inventors to a John Henry style battle of Pony vs. Machine. The Apples bested their antagonists, but the Flim Flam Bros. Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 contraption had already run rampant through their orchard, tearing trees up whole and grinding them down to extract the apples. Now the South Field was a mess. Several trees were uprooted completely, leaving nothing but gaping holes in the soil, but most just snapped off at the base.

He assumed there were going to be three or four stumps to move, but there were easily a dozen here! Maybe more… and they were much bigger than he imagined. Big, jagged things, not the neat little tabletops one typically thinks of when one thinks of tree stumps. Prince Blueblood hadn’t even got to the part where he remembered they also had roots.

He trotted up to the closest stump and prodded it with his hoof. Doing good so far… He opened his mouth, trying to find a good spot to get a bite on the blasted thing. He moved around for a different angle. No good.

Blueblood scratched his belly with his hind hoof. There was obviously something simple that he’d overlooked if Applejack thought he could clear most of these out before sunset. He shrugged and put his forehead on the stump’s side, pushing with all his might. It didn’t even budge.

For the next half hour, Blueblood tried everything he could think of. He tried pushing backward with his flank, lifting it from underneath, kicking it (that got the stump to shudder and he kicked it a few more times, but didn’t make any real progress) and even standing on top and jumping on it (which, if anything, actually made things worse).

Blueblood sat down on his haunches to rest. This would obviously require some outside help.

***

While Blueblood struggled down in the South Field, Banana Split limped her way up the long dirt road to Sweet Apple Acres. The hospital had discharged her in a wheelchair, but using it meant rolling herself uphill for miles on an unpaved and bumpy road. Nope, she’d just have to hoof it. Thank Celestia for painkillers.

She was in a sour mood, and not just for the obvious reason. Why hadn’t Big Macintosh visited her in the hospital? It was the least he could do after he put her there. They had much to discuss if this relationship was going to work.

***

Big Macintosh had fallen back to sleep. Tombs cleared away the tray and brought it back downstairs. Marmalade was in the kitchen, rummaging in the icebox.

Tombs coughed to get her attention.

“Excuse me, ma’m,” said Tombs “What are you doing?”

“Getting something to eat. I’m starving!” she said, pulling her head out of the refrigerator. She walked over to a nearby cupboard and started rummaging “Do you know if Big Mac has any cookies?”

“Perhaps ma’m will find the victuals at her own residence to conform more closely to her preferences,” Tombs closed the refrigerator door with his magic and plucked a box of Lemon Smacks out of Marmalade’s mouth.

“I told you, I’m not leaving until I get to see Big Macintosh,” Marmalade snatched the box out of the air.

“And as I have already informed ma’m, Big Macintosh will not be back before sundown,” the slightest edge peeked through Tombs’s voice and he levitated the box out of Marmalade’s mouth once again.

“And I already told you, I’m not leaving!” she grabbed at the box. Tombs lifted it out of her reach.

“Then you’ll just have to wait here all day without food,” he said.

Marmalade opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment, the screen door squeaked and Blueblood walked into the kitchen.

“Tombs, have you seen…” he stopped short when he saw Marmalade. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route.

“You were saying?” Marmalade stuck her tongue out at Tombs and trotted up to Blueblood.

“Oh, Big Macintosh! It’s so good to see you! I brought you some marmalade!” she presented the red and white checked parcel resting on the kitchen table.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Blueblood smiled. She moved in to nuzzle at his neck and he withdrew. Marmalade looked up at him, questioning.

“So…” said Blueblood “It was really great having you visit and all, but I’ve actually got a lot of work to do…”

“That’s okay,” said Marmalade, downcast “we can hang out later…”

“Oh, uhhh.”

“I was thinking we could go for a walk up to the Ponyville Hydromagical Dam and look at the mist, it’s really lovely. I’ve always wanted to take a date there,” she smiled.

“A date? Err… that’s not really going to be possible…”

Marmalade stepped back.

“Oh, well I didn’t necessarily mean today,” she pawed at the ground “you know, soon though.”

She looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“Well, you know… let’s put a pin in that…” Blueblood tapped his forehooves together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Blueblood looked over at Tombs, who was washing dishes and refused to make eye contact.

“Well, umm…”

“I dunno how this relationship is supposed to work if we’re not going to spend time together.”

“Well, you see… Tombs, did you say something?” Blueblood cast a pleading glance over Marmalade’s shoulder.

“No, sir.” He didn’t look up from his washing.

Blueblood looked back down at Marmalade, whose expression was starting to darken.

“So, listen, Marmite…”

Marmalade gasped. Over by the sink, Tombs shook his head.

“I mean Marzipan!” Blueblood grinned wide. Marmalade slapped the silly grin right off his face.

“What the heck is wrong with you?” she demanded.

Blueblood rubbed his cheek.

“Now, see here.”

“What am I to you? Am I a joke?” she yelled “Am I? Huh? Is this how you get your kicks, you sick freak?”

“I wasn’t…”

“What was last night? You just think you can screw me and then just toss me aside like a Kleenex? You mount me and you don’t even do me the courtesy of remembering my name?”

“No, no no! I swear…”

“Ohmygosh! And Banana Split! I bet you screwed her, too! Huh? Didjya? Didjya ride her, wipe yerself off and then realize ya still had some spunk left to pump out?”

“She came onto me…”

“Well screw you!” she sniffed, her eyes were watery with tears “Screw you and your stupid dumb idiot face!”

“Well maybe we could date a little… see how it goes…” Blueblood reached out to comfort her. She knocked his hoof away.

“Save your pity for someone who gives a damn!” she huffed “And just for the record? Just. For. The. Record: having a big, stupid dick doesn’t mean you’re automatically great at sex, you lazy asshole! You hump like a drunk teenager on prom night.”

Blueblood gasped. That was behind the belt! Of all the nerve. Still, probably not the best time to get indignant…

“I hope someday you get gonorrhea and die!” she sobbed.

“Really!”

Marmalade stormed out of the kitchen, kicking the table hard on her way past so that the jar of Marmalade she brought jumped and fell to the floor with a sloppy crash!

“Just wait until every mare in town hears about this!” they heard her yell from the barn.

Blueblood and Tombs shared the kitchen in silence for a few seconds. Tombs grabbed a pan from the dirty pile and started scrubbing.

Blueblood watched Tombs through narrowed eyes.

Tombs scrubbed.

“You know, I blame you for this,” said Blueblood.

“I’m sorry to hear that, your majesty,” said Tombs, not looking up.

“You’re supposed to run interference.”

“As you say, sire.”

Blueblood pouted in silence. Tombs put the pan in the dishrack.

“Is Mister Macintosh around?”

“He is resting upstairs at the moment, sire.”

“Not anymore, I ain’t” snuffed Big Macintosh, stepping into the kitchen. He’d been resting peacefully and was actually feeling much better thanks to Tombs’s ministrations, though he still had a persistent sniffle and a general malaise.

“What in tarnation is all this yellin’ and smashin’ about?” he asked.

Blueblood looked about, innocently.

“Yelling? Smashing? Don’t know anything about that. You must’ve dreamed it. How’s your fever?” Blueblood moved to feel Big Mac’s forehead, but he backed away.

“Did I dream that?” Big Mac pointed to the sticky puddle of broken glass and marmalade that was spreading under the table.

Blueblood blinked at the mess for a few moments. Tombs continued to wash.

“Oh… that. Yes, there was a little accident.”

“And the shoutin’?”

“Must’ve been the record player.”

Big Mac looked over at the record player in the corner. It was off… and there was no record in it… and somepony had set a stack of newspapers on it.

“Ah huh…” he said.

Blueblood changed the subject.

“Uh listen… Glad you’re up. I’ve hit a little snag with moving the stumps… I was hoping you could help.”

Big Mac sighed.

“Alright, sure. What’s the trouble? Did the harness get twisted again?”

“Harness?”

“For the chains.”

“Chains?”

“Tell me you brought the harness out with you…”

“Well,” said Blueblood, sheepishly.

Big Mac konked a hoof to his forehead.

“Well what did you expect to do with the stumps once you got them dug up?” he asked “Were you gonna haul ‘em around in yer mouth?”

“Dug them up?”

Big Mac started pounding his forehead on the doorpost. His horn knocking into the frame above.

Thok. Thok. Thok.

“Well what do you expect? It’s only my third day as a farmpony!” Blueblood huffed, he turned to Tombs “Tombs, do you know anything about removing stumps?”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“And you can cut that out,” said Blueblood, turning to Big Mac. Big Mac wasn’t pounding his head against the doorframe. Tombs cleared his throat.

“I believe that would be the front door,” said Tombs, exiting the kitchen into the barn. There was an exchange of muted conversation and Tombs returned.

“Sire, a Miss Split to see you…”

Bluebloods eyes goggled and his pupils contracted to pinpoints.

“Ohshit!” he yelped “Everypony hide!”

Big Mac bared his teeth.

“What’s goin’ on?” he demanded.

“Oh nothing, that crazy mare is probably here because she wandered out of the hospital in a delirium. The brain freeze must be worse than we thought.”

“Why would Banana Split be here to see you, Blueblood?”

“Well, you see…” Blueblood raised his hoof as if to talk, then turned tail and sprinted out the back door. Big Mac snorted and charged after him.

***

Blueblood galloped as fast as he could for the orchard, hoping to reach the tree line before it was…

Too late.

Big Macintosh was galloping after him and closing fast. Damn! He was really regretting all that time he’d spent working on his cardio. Big Macintosh’s body was big and powerful, but not very lean and not very fast. He even had the tiniest bit of a paunch. Not a problem except the added weight made it that much more difficult to evade twelve hundred pounds of angry unicorn. Tipped, incidentally with sixteen-inches of sharp horn. Blueblood would argue seventeen but he always cheated with the tape.

“It was just some harmless fun!” Blueblood called over his shoulder.

“Harmless?” yelled Big Mac. Blueblood looked back. Yikes! Big Mac was a lot closer than he thought and gaining fast.

“Yes, I didn’t mean to hurt her! I was just- OOF!”

Big Mac tackled him, wrapping his forelegs around the Prince’s waist and pushing him to the ground.

Blueblood rolled over on the ground and put his hooves on Big Mac’s shoulders, stopping him just inches from skewering his belly with his horn.

“What the hell did I tell you about dickin’ around in mah body?”

Big Mac shoved forward, Blueblood held him off. This Big Mac fellow had some surprising strength in his hind legs…

“Nothing! You didn’t tell me anything until it was too late!” yelled Blueblood.

“Ah didn’t think Ah needed to tell you not to go around fuggn’ everything that moved!”

“That’s not fair! You’re using my body to go after mares!”

Big Mac stopped pushing.

“No Ah ain’t!”

“Well, a mare! What’s the difference?”

“What’s the difference?” asked Big Mac “The difference is that what yer doin’ is… is hurtin’ them!”

“Well I rather fancy that’s more your fault than mine, you never warned me about your-”

“Not that! I mean the way you’re treatin’ ‘em! Mares have feelings ya know!”

“I know that. I can’t help it if a few mares have unrealistic expectations…”

“Oh yeah, a few, huh? Tell me, how many mares have you slept with?”

“Well, that’s hardly proper…” he fidgeted with his hooves.

“How many?”

Blueblood tried to count in his head.

“One hundred and… something-ty?” he offered.

Big Mac boggled for a moment, trying to imagine having sex with so many mares that he could lose track. He shook his head. Focus!

“And how many of them are you still on speaking terms with?” he asked.

Blueblood thought about it.

“Well, I dunno if…”

“How many?”

“Well… I… does it count if they’re asking you how much starch you want in your collar?”

Big Mac narrowed his eyes. Blueblood rolled off his back onto his side.

“So how many mares have you been with, if I might ask?”

This time, Big Macintosh was the one who fidgeted.

“nrmbrmm,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

Big Mac let out a deep breath.

“None, okay? None!”

Blueblood boggled for a moment, trying to imagine living his whole life up to that point without ever having felt the warm caress of a mare.

“You mean you’re…”

“A virgin, yes.”

Blueblood snorted. He tried not to, but the laughter built up behind his cheeks and finally burst out in Big Mac’s face.

“Whut exactly is so funny?”

Blueblood calmed his laughter and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Well, you’re not any more, are you?” he laughed.

Big Mac growled.

“Well, now that I think about it… I don’t know…” Blueblood pondered the metaphysical ramifications of having sex in another pony’s body.

Big Mac started to say something, but ended up chuckling a little, too.

“Damn,” he said.

Blueblood moved to right himself and Big Mac helped him up.

“You know, I should still kick yer ass. You still done wrong by Banana Split. Applejack’s not gonna be happy when she hears about this.”

Blueblood hung his head.

“But she’ll be even madder if we don’t clear out those stumps. Come on. If we work together, we can make up fer all the time you’ve wasted,” said Big Mac.

The two stallions walked together back up to the barn to grab the harness and shovels.

***

Deep in the Everfree forest, Zecora was in deep concentration. She meditated, balancing with her nose on the tip of a narrow staff. The pulses and rhythms of her body slowed to a crawl as her mind worked furiously. The fog of time and memory stripped away, layer by layer.

Tombs’s questions the night before put her ill at ease and sparked memories she thought long faded. After he left, she checked on the golden horseshoes. Somepony had switched them. They were not the same. She didn’t doubt that he had them or at least knew who did. More likely, it was the Prince.

The Prince. Celestia’s nephew. She could smell it on him. She’d smelled it before. Celestia’s niece in the jungle the night her god died. She smelled it on Cadence when she stood over her, that pink muzzle still dripping with Ananse’s ichor. The tiny buds of wings already sprouting at her sides.

A blur of agonized ponies. Writhing, moaning. Shredded, twisted. A parade of faces flashed before her, too fast. Too fast. She concentrated. Calmed herself. The faces slowed. Tombs was there, on his back and bloody. His insides were trying to become outsides. They all thought he was going to die… Even then he didn’t scream.

Zecora opened her eyes. She was back in her hut.

So, after all these years, the weavings of fate brought them close once again. What did the universe have in store? Whatever it was, she would keep her eyes and ears open. She got the feeling that if something was to happen with Tombs, she was meant to be present for it.

She dismounted from her staff and began to gather her things. Deciding carefully what she was going to pack. A gourd of potion, some berries, a bowl, a needle and a spool of thread…

A needle and thread.

She put them down and went to her bed, lifting the mattress with her hoof.

Of course.

She and Tombs were not the only things to come into Ponyville from that battlefield.

Beneath the mattress was another spool of thread, this one gleaming with its own silvery light. It seemed to whisper softly to itself in the darkness. Zecora gathered it up and the black needle that lay beside.

***

Up at the barn, Tombs had let Banana Split off easy. She wasn’t pleased to make the painful walk all the way back without even seeing Big Macintosh, and she definitely had some questions for him. She’d passed Marmalade on the way up, but her friend only stuck her nose in the air and harrumphed as they passed. What was that all about?

Big Mac wasn’t in, Tombs told her. He was off on business with the Prince and he didn’t anticipate either of them coming back anytime soon. No, she absolutely couldn’t stay and wait, they’d left town and wouldn’t be back for at least a day. Yes. Sorry. Thank you. He’ll be sure to contact you. Good day.

She limped back down the hill towards Ponyville. Had he run away because he’d hurt her? She only wanted to let him know she was alright and that she wasn’t mad at him.

She had to stop and rest. She eased herself down and sat at the side of the road for a while, staring up the hill at Sweet Apple Acres.The End of Part 14

To be Continued…

Chapter XV

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XV

Tombs finished the washing up and started on preparing lunch for everypony. The Prince and Big Macintosh would have big appetites when they got back, and Applejack might be joining them as well if she didn’t take lunch at Buttermilk’s farm. He tossed a large salad with tomato and cucumber, clucking his tongue that the Apples didn’t keep mozzarella in the house. If he started a spinach pie now, would he be back from Ponyville before it finished? Better not chance it. He went out to the apple cellar and brought up two bushels of apples, instead. It would be a cold lunch, but refreshing after a hot day in the field.

He turned down all the beds and gathered up Big Macintosh’s linens to be washed so that his germs wouldn’t fester and reinfect him as he slept. Granny Smith was up and about when he got back inside.

“This is all mighty kind of you, sonny,” she said “Ah hope yer not doin’ this because Applejack told ye you gotta work t’ earn yer keep. Yer a guest here.”

“It is nice to be appreciated, madam, but my master is the guest here. My duties don’t stop just because I’m in somepony else’s home.”

“That’s good. Plenty of hard work helps ye live longer, but get too much and ye’ll work yerself to an early grave, young’n.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I shall bear that in mind.”

“Don’t be so formal, call me Granny!” she cackled.

A lot of conflicting thoughts rose up inside of Tombs upon hearing those words. Everything in his professional training taught him to stay formal, but on the other hand, one “Pinkie” situation was enough. Better not chance it.

“Thank you, Granny.”

“Whuzzuh?” she mumbled.

Tombs smiled and finished tidying up around the house. He had business to take care of down in Ponyville today, and the morning was getting on.

He changed into traveling clothes, a durable tweed jacket and twill shirt. He hiked up his cuffs to protect them from the dust of the road and set out for Ponyville.

He was looking for Rainbow Dash. He hoped to run into her, but he suspected the best place to start was the local Weather Office. Like most Equestrians, he knew Rainbow Dash as one of the six ponies who’d saved Equestria, but seeing her from a distance during an awards ceremony and knowing where she lived or how to get in touch with her was a horse of a different color. Even if Rainbow Dash didn’t work for the Weather Patrol directly, the Weather Office still kept a file of all the names and addresses of Pegasi in the district.

Pegasi were a close-knit group of ponies as a whole, with a much stronger sense of esprit de corps than Earth ponies or even Unicorns. The fact that Cloudsdale, the cultural and historical center of the Pegasus race, was almost entirely inaccessible to Earth and Unicorn ponies was a large contributor. They swore fealty to Princesses Celestia and Luna, but in many respects Cloudsdale was an independent city-state, and the Mayor of Cloudsdale was a highly influential position held in high esteem, even among the nobility. They stuck together and wherever they went, they were on call and had to register with the local branch of the Weather Bureau.

***

Tombs found the Weather Office on a side street just off the town square. A windsock drifted lazily on the roof next to a twirling anemometer. On a flagpole next to the door, the Stars and Wings flapped proudly beneath the Equestrian national flag.

Inside, the cramped office was made even more so by the imposition of several large filing cabinets, overflowing with forms, records and outdated charts. The room smelled like a combination of old paper, dust and correcting fluid. A large map of Ponyville County, wrinkled with humidity and scarred by decades of thumbtacks dominated the wall behind an old wooden desk where a single, fat Pegasus snoozed in a creaky wooden office chair.

Tombs cleared his throat to make himself known.

The fat Pegasus started awake and grumbled, looking around deliriously for the source of the disturbance. He spotted Tombs and sat up, wiping a smear of orange Cheez dust from his mouth with the back of his foreleg.

“Urghhrr,” he mumbled “How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for information on a Pegasus by the name of Rainbow Dash.”

“Rainbow Dash?” the fat Pegasus blinked “I thought everypony knew her. She’s the one with the rainbow colored hair.”

“Thank you. I require her address and any other records you may have.”

“I can give you her address, but her service record isn’t open to the public.”

Tombs smiled.

“Of course. I fully understand. After all, you can’t be expected to keep track of everything.”

The fat Pegasus nodded and leaned back in his chair. Tombs’s words sank in and he did a double take.

“Waitaminute!” he said, sitting up “Whaddya mean ‘can’t keep track of everything’?”

“Well, my good pony,” said Tombs, looking around at the general disarray “Nopony cares about all this stuff. It’s completely understandable if a few things slip through the cracks. Who’s going to miss a memo or a service record if it disappears into the pile? Incidentally, can I get your name?”

“Steeplechase…” answered the fat Pegasus, warily “And I never said I lost nuthin’… Who are you, anyway?”

“Nopony in particular,” answered Tombs “I work for the Palace.”

Tombs flipped open a small notebook and scrawled something inside. Steeplechase was looking more alert every second.

“You didn’t tell me you worked at the Palace…” he said, watching Tombs closely “I don’t suppose you’ve got a badge or nuthin’?”

Tombs opened his jacket and produced his identification papers from his billfold. They were stamped “Regal Clearance” with a very fancy gilded seal.

Steeplechase rumbled his throat and pretended to consider the papers very carefully. “Regal Clearance” might have sounded dreadfully important, but really anypony who had access to the Royal Apartments carried the same stamp. Tombs shared RC status with about three hundred other ponies, from the Praetorian Guard that surrounded the Princesses down to the maids who washed the royal linens. Of course, Steeplechase didn’t know that. All he saw was a big, shiny seal.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you took a look,” said Steeplechase.

He got up from his desk with a fatty grunt and trotted over to a nearby filing cabinet. He pulled open the drawer marked “Q-Z”, drew out a thick file, and spat it onto the desk.

“There ya go,” he said.

Tombs thanked him. Steeplechase nodded and trotted out of the office for a smoke, grumbling to himself.

“I didn’t lose nuthin’” he muttered.

Tombs flipped open the file. An outdated photo of a grinning, juvenile Rainbow Dash was paperclipped to the front of a sizable stack of papers. Tombs flipped through them. He raised an eyebrow, impressed.

Miss Dash was apparently not just a member of the Weather Patrol, but actually Ponyville Weather Captain. Impressive for one who was not only so young, but also discharged from the Cloudsdale Flight School for “reckless behavior.” She’d certainly had a rollercoaster career, which explained how a pony, twice decorated with the Legion of Platinum for heroic bravery, was still only a small-time cloud-wrangler in a backwater burg like Ponyville.

She’d applied to and been rejected by the Wonderbolts every year for the past five years. Each time failing the prescreening process because of her fight school record.

She was, by all accounts, an excellent flyer, but her personal conduct made her a risky bet.

She was quick-tempered, brash and egotistical with a strong competitive streak that stuck out even among the hyper-competitive Pegasi.

So, the best way to get to her is through her pride. thought Tombs.

That would have to do. He closed the file and left it on the desk.

Tombs passed Steeplechase as he left.

“Thank you very much, Mister Steeplechase.”

“’Tweren’t nuthin’”

“Now, if you would be so kind, where might I find ‘number one, Cloud Manor’?” asked Tombs.

Steeplechase stuck his hoof out and pointed at Rainbow Dash’s house, hovering over the other edge of town, visible for miles.

“Of course, thank you very much.”

“Mruh,” grunted Steeplechase, spitting the butt of his cigarette on the ground and going back inside.

***

As Tombs made his way across the square, he was so busy watching the skies for Rainbow Dash, he didn’t even see Pinkie Pie until she was practically on top of him.

“Hello, Pinkie.”

“Hey Tombs!” she grinned as she skipped alongside “What’cha doin’? Did you come into town to hang out with me?”

“I was actually looking for Miss Dash, have you seen her?”

Pinkie looked around, up in the sky, across the square, and even checking underneath Tombs’s jacket.

“Nope. Why’re you looking for her? Are you playing hide and seek?” she asked, bouncing with excitement.

“I’m afraid not, I was hoping-”

“That’s too bad! Of course, if you were looking for somepony to play hide and seek with, I’m always up for a game!”

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not here to play hide and seek.”

“Oh, what game are you here to play? Is it tag?” she grinned again, fluttering her eyelashes hopefully.

“I’m not here to play games at all,” said Tombs “I have important business.”

Pinkie nodded.

“Of course,” she said “I understand. I guess I was just confused by when you Pinkie Promised to hang out with me today.”

“If you recall, I didn’t say ‘today’ I said ‘later’.”

“It’s later now, silly!” she laughed.

“Be that as it may…”

“Are you going back on a Pinkie Promise?” she asked, her face suddenly stern.

“No, I simply-”

“Good!” she grinned “Ooh! We should go hang out at Sugarcube Corner! It’s my favoritest place in the whole world! That’s why I live there!”

She bounced off. Tombs hesitated. Pinkie Pie looked over her shoulder and gave him the stink-eye. He sighed and followed.

***

The bell over the door jangled as Pinkie trotted into Sugarcube Corner. Mr. and Mrs. Cake were behind the counter, restocking the lollypops.

“Hey Pinkie Pie, hey Mister Tombs!” greeted Mr. Cake.

“Good afternoon Mrs. Cake, Good afternoon Mr. Cake,” Tombs doffed his cap.

“Tombs and I are going upstairs to play,” said Pinkie Pie, skipping past the counter.

Tombs smiled, sheepishly.

The Cakes smiled and averted their eyes.

“Ooh, well that’s nice, Pinkie,” said Mrs. Cake, very focused on arranging the lollypops just right.

“Yes, uhh… Make sure you leave the door open a crack…” said Mr. Cake. Mrs. Cake elbowed him and he coughed, straightening his bowtie.

“Uh huh…” said Pinkie, taking the stairs two at a time. Tombs tiptoed up after her. Mr. and Mrs. Cake pretended he was invisible.

Pinkie’s room was up two flights of stairs, inside the wooden cupcake at the top of Sugarcube corner. It was… festive. A cluster of balloons floated from one of her bedposts and a light powdering of confetti and glitter covered the floor like multicolored snow. An umbrella stand in the corner held a trio of giant lollypops and the smell of sugary confections saturated the room like sticky syrup. In spite of all this, the room was otherwise surprisingly neat. The bed was made and her clothes and belongings organized in their proper place.

“So, whaddya want to play?” asked Pinkie Pie, nudging the door closed until there was only a hairsbreadth of daylight between it and the frame.

“Well, I don’t have a lot of time…”

“We could play Boggle!” she grinned “Or a round of Grid-Based Game that Resembles but is Legally Distinct from Battleship”

“No, Pinkie…” said Tombs.

“Aww! GBGRLDB is the best!”

“Pinkie!” Tombs raised his hoof to silence her.

“Yes, Tombs?”

He sighed.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

“I was hoping we could play and hang out, silly!” she smiled, balancing on her hind legs and gripping the box for GBGRLDB between her forehooves.

“You know what I mean. Why did we sleep together?”

Pinkie Pie’s broad smile eased a little, but remained.

“Well, because,” she said “Everypony needs friends.”

“I have many friends, Pinkie…”

“And some ponies need special friends… Donkeys too, I recently learned.”

Tombs opened his mouth, but Pinkie was still talking.

“And, sometimes, I need somepony to be an extra special friend to me,” her eyes flicked up to his. They were big and wide and blue. Tombs took a deep breath.

“I can think of a few games we can play…” he said.

Pinkie clapped her hooves together.

“Ooh! Please say Bingo, please say Bingo,” she squealed.

***

Twilight Sparkle was still despondent. Spike tried to cheer her up by asking about her views on the latest advances in modern magic, but she just sighed and said they were probably stupid.

Why did that idiot, Prince Blueblood, have her all tied up in knots? He was just doing what came naturally, and Rainbow Dash was on top of him, so it was obviously consensual. It was really none of her business what bad decision Rainbow Dash made.

But he knew! He knew Rainbow Dash was in trouble and his first impulse was to shtup her! That’s not being a good friend!

Of course it wasn’t being a good friend. She hadn’t even given him any friendship lessons! What did she expect, throwing her protégé out into the field with no theoretical grounding? Should it be a surprise when ignoring all the most basic rules of academia blew up in her face? She should’ve known better. This was her responsibility.

Blueblood didn’t care about anypony. Why did she think he would care about her or her friendship lessons? Why did she want him to?

She shouldn’t. Obviously, the Prince just wasn’t ready for the advanced studies she was trying to teach him. There was really no other choice but to tell him politely, but firmly, that she never ever ever ever ever wanted to speak to him again because he was a pig and a misogynist who treated mares like they were objects and if he had any common decency, he would take his balls and…

No…

Twilight took some deep breaths. Let’s be realistic.

This was Rainbow Dash’s fault!

Flaunting her athletic body in front of him, her mane flipping in the wind like a… like… like some kind of rainbow-y flag! It was a side Rainbow Dash obviously always had and she’d just ignored. She was a slutty sex freak. What kind of mare carried a porno magazine around with her all the time?

A mare with a problem, that’s what kind.

Friends helped friends work through their problems together.

No matter how she looked at it, it came back to her. She’d failed Rainbow Dash and she’d failed Blueblood. If she’d only been there for both of them, this would never have happened. Now it was too late.

No!

Twilight leaped out of bed.

“It’s not too late!” she declared, “I’m going to help my friends!”

She marched down the stairs and set off to find Rainbow Dash.

Spike came up from the basement just as the door closed behind her.

“Twilight? Twilight?” he called “I found some board games that might cheer you up… Do you want to play Chess? We’ve also got Othello, and there’s a few Bingo cards here…”

***

“BINGO! BINGO! BINGOOOOO!” screamed Pinkie Pie, a stupid grin plastered across her sweat-drenched face. Tombs gritted his teeth with exertion and drove harder, his turgid c- okay…

You know something… you know something…

We might’ve returned to Tombs and Pinkie Pie a little early. They need privacy.

Meanwhile at Sweet Apple Acres…

***

Big Mac and Blueblood came in from the fields for lunch. They were slick with sweat, their backs were sore and their muscles ached.

Blueblood stuck his head under the hoof-pump and Big Mac cranked the lever until a refreshing blast of cold water washed over the Prince’s head and ran down his nose.

With Big Mac working as coach and taskmaster, the pair managed to uproot and haul more than half the stumps out of the orchard down to the side of the road. Big Mac coached Blueblood in the use of the harness and hauling techniques, and Blueblood coached Big Mac on the use of Unicorn magic, which came in extremely useful when it came to digging and rigging up the chains.

Blueblood was surprised at how easy hard work became once he got into the groove. There was a sort of rhythm to it all. The Earth wanted to move a certain way, wanted to break in certain places and certain ways. The more he dug his hooves in the soil, the more time he spent with the trees and the wood, the more comfortable he felt. Earth Pony magic wasn’t about making things happen. It was about listening and helping things to happen the way they wanted to happen. When the blood was pounding in his ears and his legs were coated in a film of dirt and sweat, he could almost hear a song, guiding him, encouraging him. If he let his thoughts unfocus and went with the flow, he almost forgot it was work at all.

Applejack was impressed with their progress.

“Ah’m glad you two decided to work together. At this rate, we can get all those stumps out and have that orchard replanted before the end of the week. Ah can’t thank ya enough, Blueblood. You and Tombs have been a real Princess-send,” she said “Speakin’ of Tombs, where’s that feller gone?”

“We haven’t seen him since this morning…” said Blueblood.

“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh.

Applejack paused for a moment, studying the two, then burst out laughing.

“Ah guess you two are startin’ to rub off on each other more’n I thought,” she chuckled “Anyway, it’s be a sin to let this lunch he laid out go to waste.”

They dug in with gusto.

“Did you know Mootilda is getting an udder implant?” smacked Applejack through a mouthful of lettuce.

“Ugh, how gauche,” said Blueblood.

“That’s what Ah’m sayin’. Ah mean, really, Ah understand she’s getting’ older and startin’ t’ feel like the bulls ain’t noticin’ her n’more, but Ah don’t think she realizes that that kinda thing is just an obvious cry fer help…”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded.

***

“Tombs, help!” cried Pinkie Pie.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Tombs grunted.

“No, Tombs, no,” said Pinkie Pie “Ya gotta help me get my leg up like this. See what I’m trying to do? No. Eyes on me. Eyes on me. See this? Leg goes like this.”

“Uruuuugh!”

“Okay, now try and put your horn so that it…”

Nope. Still too early. Maybe you’d better try the next chapter.The End of Part 15…

To be continued…

Chapter XVII

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XVII

Listen.

It’s fifteen years ago. Right now, Twilight Sparkle is studying for her second year midterm exams at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The midterms won’t be for another month and a half. Rainbow Dash got her first funny feeling yesterday while looking at a department store mannequin and she’s having another one as she play wrestles with her babysitter. Fluttershy is crying. She can’t visit the surface for six weeks because she’s grounded in her room. Her parents just saw her report card bearing a “D” in “Galloping Hard” and an “F” in “Flying Fast.” Prince Blueblood is twenty seconds from losing his virginity to his Brazilian Au Pair. Meanwhile, Princess Celestia is busy transferring ninety generations worth of bloodline records and scientific notes to a vault in the Canterlot Archive, including a fourteen hundred-page thesis paper titled On the Kefitzat Haderech, the Implications and Potential for the Future Evolution of Equus Sapiens Houyhnhm by Neightchze. The vault is to be sealed in concrete. Now that the Kefitzat Haderech walks the earth, nopony but Celestia must know her identity.

And in the Congo?

It’s dark.

Nightmare Moon’s terrible silhouette looms low over the jungle canopy. Hundreds of Zebras stand huddled together, their nervous hooves grinding the soil beneath them to mud. In the dim light of the full moon, they look like one zebra. An indistinguishable mass of black and white with two thousand legs and five hundred anxious, frightened heads. A warm wind blows in from the jungle, bearing the smell of gunpowder smoke. Gunpowder smoke and the sickly sweet stench of Ananse’s hulking corpse. A great, black mountain in a forest of spindly legs.

Beyond the zebra pens, the medical tents are a chaos of shouting and moaning. Medics gallop to and fro, overwhelmed by the massive casualties of that morning’s battle. The tents are illuminated by broad banks of Princess Cadence’s latest invention: the incandescent light bulb. A team of unicorns work in shifts to power the generator to keep the lights burning all through the night.

“We’ve got more comin’ through!” barks a medic.

Another grim procession of the dead and dying. Some ponies can limp by under their own power, but many more ride on stretchers. The medics aren’t prepared to handle such a rapid influx of the wounded. The triage is brutal, emotionless. Tombs is riding on a stretcher, bobbing by the zebra pens. His bleeding belly has turned septic and the medics mark him for death. They can’t waste resources treating him when there are ponies that can still be saved. Princess Cadence personally overrides their decision.

“Do everything you can to save this stallion’s life, or you’ll go to your grave reciting The Rhyme of the Ancient Seapony ad infenitum, understand?” she commands. They obey. Though barely more than a child, the pink unicorn terrifies them.

One zebra sees Tombs’s body bobbing past and it proves to be the last straw. She can’t stand by and watch this suffering any more.

“Hey!” she yells “Hey hey hey! Bosspony, hey!”

Her outburst startles the other zebras. They shuffle anxiously. Some of the medics look over, irritated.

“Hey!” she calls again “Bosspony come here!”

The other zebras are perturbed now. Stop calling their attention! They move to block her from view, but she pushes to the front, calling out again.

A pair of guards in jungle fatigues approach.

“Quiet, you!” they bark.

“They are going to die!” she shouts at them.

“That’s enough of that, now!”

“I know how to save them. Let me help. I know how to save them.”

The other zebras grow more agitated. Stop it! Stop it!

“Somepony shut her up!” growls one of the guards.

“You need all the help you can get. I am a doctor! I can work a medicine that will save all your friends’ lives.”

One of the medics walks over, drawn by the commotion.

“What’s all this then? Can’t you shut that zebra up?”

She rears up at the fence.

“Hey! Doctor bosspony! Let us out of here, I can save your friends, yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“I am the witch doctor for my tribe.”

The Witch Doctor can save the lives of all the wounded. In return, she asks that the captured zebras be granted their freedom. Cadence laughs at the idea.

“Explain to me why you shouldn’t spend the rest of your life thinking and speaking in iambic pentameter for your insolence,” her eyes are cold. They pierce The Witch Doctor like daggers of ice.

“I can make it worth your while,” The Witch Doctor promises. She hangs her head in the shame of what she is about to reveal.

Listen.

Gather up anypony you can spare. Follow these instructions exactly.

The Witch Doctor teaches them how to gather Ananse’s silk. How to boil it in his ichors to make thread. The spiny hairs on his legs become needles. His venom becomes antiseptic. His body is dead but his medicine is still strong. The mantle of immortality is not easily shaken.

A black altar is raised. The symbols are drawn. Cadence’s body is a mass of painted sigils. They squirm on her body like worms. Each letter takes on a life of its own and changes places when you’re not looking.

Incense. Drums. Chanting.

The zebras won’t help. The Witch Doctor teaches the rhymes to the soldiers. They feel ridiculous dressed up in feathers and body paint, but when the burning herbs get in their nostrils and the thunder of the drums begins, they find they can’t stop. The music has taken on a life of its own.

The chants erupt from the soldiers’ throats unbidden, forcing their way up the ponies’ esophagi and tearing free into the air. The dancers dance. Their bodies contort like demons as the music moves within them.

Cadence stands on the edge of the altar. In the center, surrounded by a ring of blue fire, is Ananse’s still beating heart. Bigger than a sleeping bag and roughly the shape of a massive slug.

Cadence walks through the flame. The symbols on her body burn instead of her.

The chanting intensifies. The drumming so loud it seems like it will shake the earth to pieces.

It reaches its crescendo and Cadence plunges her face into Ananse’s heart. She feels his power rush into her. Every gulp brings new strength. Every swallow opens a new door within her. She drinks her fill until her stomach can take no more, but she keeps her muzzle pressed to the warm flesh and forces the ichor down her throat.

Her body is racked with spasms. The zebra has poisoned her! Tricked her!

Cadence screams and blasts The Witch Doctor with a bolt of magic from her horn. The zebra feels the magic burn through her mind, feels the neurons polarize like iron filings beneath a magnet.

A fitting reward for an act so profane

I only pray I didn’t act in vain.

Cadence isn’t poisoned. Her sides itch as the tiny nubs of wings sprout like ferns. Her horn stretches and thickens. She feels her magic growing, feels her mortality fading. At last, she could look her aunt in the eye…

Cadence is an alicorn of her word. The zebras get their freedom. The Witch Doctor and the medics work through the night. Ananse’s body is stripped to nothingness. Every part of him goes to help the wounded.

Tombs is stitched up. The magic thread does its work and he returns to his chums.

The Witch Doctor is not so lucky. No zebra will speak to her now. She returns to her herd, but they turn their backs. Every one. The cost of their freedom was too high. They would have rather died than seen Ananse defiled that way. She is dead to them.

***

It was the present again.

“That was Ananse’s silk,” said Twilight Sparkle, awed. She looked at the magical thread in Tombs’s stomach. Magically, it appeared as a red-hot wire woven into his life force.

She looked at Zecora.

“That means you were the witch doctor!”

“I think everypony already figured that out,” said Pinkie Pie.

“The who?” asked Prince Blueblood.

“After the battle, a brave witch doctor from one of the four zebra tribes was the first to step forward to offer her hoof in friendship… Zecora, you saved hundreds of lives!” exclaimed Twilight.

Zecora nodded, humble in the face of praise, but grateful for recognition.

“And now you’ve saved Tombs again! Zecora thank you thank you!” squealed Pinkie Pie. She leaped on Zecora, throwing her hooves around the hapless zebra and squeezing her in a tearful hug.

Applejack watched Tombs sleeping peacefully.

“What I wanna know,” she said, looking over at Rainbow Dash “was why the two of ya were fightin’ in the first place. What’d he do to get you so riled up?”

Rainbow Dash sighed.

“Because he called me gay,” she hung her head.

Her friends gasped. Pinkie fumbled for words.

“Rainbow, you half killed somepony just because he called you gay?” asked Twilight in disbelief.

“Not only! It’s like he knew I really was gay!” said Rainbow “I was afraid that if he kept saying it, it would be real and I couldn’t take it back and you guys wouldn’t like me anymore.”

Applejack tutted.

“Why in the world would you think we wouldn’t like you anymore, Sugarcube?” she asked.

“Why?” said Rainbow Dash, fluttering up into the air “Why? Because I’ve been lying to you guys and avoiding the truth all my life! That’s why!”

Everypony chuckled a little.

“Oh Rainbow Dash, we don’t care if you’re gay or straight or whatever!” smiled Twilight.

Rainbow looked around at all her friends.

Twilight, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rarity… gulp… Fluttershy. They all looked up at her like they always did: with admiration, respect and genuine warmth.

“Really?”

“Really!” they said together.

“Rainbow Dash, I haven’t experienced anything that I can compare to the struggle you’ve endured. I would never stop liking you just because of your sexual preferences. Real friends don’t care about that, and while you’re under no obligation to tell anypony which way you lean, you should never feel ashamed.”

“Yeah!” said Pinkie Pie, jumping up “There are a lot more emberassing things than being gay! I have trouble with impulse control!”

“I got an ‘A’ minus on my final Conjuring exam,” Twilight blushed.

“Sometimes, I get just plum fed up with apples,” said Applejack.

“I have a favorite pair of white slippers that I wear around the house whenever it gets chilly,” said Rarity.

The other ponies just stared.

Rarity’s glance shifted from side to side, then down to the floor.

“Even after Labor Day…” she choked.

“I forgot to feed my animals their dinner yesterday because I was reading a dirty magazine I found on my doorstep and abusing my no-no place…” Fluttershy whispered.

Everypony had to clear their throats at the same time and became very distracted by the hospital walls.

“Too much?” asked Fluttershy.

Applejack looked up at Rainbow Dash.

“The point is, Sugarcube, we love you no matter what. You’re really special to us and yer always welcome down on our farm.”

“Yeah!” squealed Pinkie Pie.

“Aw, you guys!” Rainbow touched down and they all gathered around for a group hug.

Blueblood whispered to Big Macintosh.

“Do you think she’s full gay or just bisexual?” he asked. Big Mac jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Ow! I only ask because if she’s bisexual…. Ow!”

Big Mac elbowed him again.

“… she might be open to a threesome- OW!”

Everypony turned to stare at them. The pair put on broad, innocent grins.

Rainbow Dash broke away from the group.

“Blueblood, I owe you an apology, too,” she told Big Mac “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. You were only trying to help and you behaved like a perfect gentlecolt. It was wrong of me to call you a colt cuddler. Not that there’s anything wrong with that if you are.”

Big Mac nodded. Twilight trotted up to him. Big Mac’s nostrils flared and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Prince Blueblood, I owe you an apology as well. When I saw you tangled up with Rainbow Dash, I assumed the worst. In the past, you may have been a womanizing, drunken playboy idiot-”

Blueblood harrumphed at this. Twilight continued.

“But you’ve changed since coming down here to Ponyville. There’s something about you… I…” she groped for words “I think you know enough about friendship that you don’t need lessons from me.”

Twilight smiled and turned back to her friends. Big Mac smiled back but his heart sank. Now it was Blueblood’s turn to throw him the elbow.

“Uh… Twilight…” said Big Mac.

“Yes?” she looked back over her shoulder, ears at attention.

“D’you think… That is… Would m’lady do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?”

Twilight blushed and gave him a coy smile.

“Eight o’clock?” she asked.

“Eeyup.”

***

It was nearly dusk when Celestia and Luna sat down to dinner.

“I had the chefs prepare mozzarella and tomatoes tonight. It’s one of your favorites, Luna,” Celestia smiled.

“I don’t know if I’ll have time to savor it, sister,” Luna replied “It’s already getting late and I have to start unspooling the Diaphanous Gown of Dusk if I’m going to have it up before you begin setting the sun for the evening.

“Nonsense!” said Celestia “Take all the time you want. Nopony will mind a few extra minutes of daylight.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t…”

Celestia sighed. This was how their conversations started in the decade leading up to the Nightmare Moon debacle. She wished they didn’t fall into the old groove so quickly.

Luna had always been much more of an artist than Celestia, her brilliant night was a testament to that. But, like most genius artists she was… temperamental about her work and sensitive when it came to the technical aspects. Everything had to be just so. Raising the night was as much art as science and Celestia, in her thousand years of doing the job, had never elevated it beyond making things dark and keeping everything in the firmament looking shiny. Since Luna returned, the nights had taken on a much more raw and passionate flavor. They were sketchy at first, like the work of a painter picking up a brush for the first time after a long hiatus, but they quickly regained an energy and vibrance not seen in a thousand years.

Celestia just wished there were something that could dispel the awkward tension that had sprung up between them since she’d punished Blueblood.

A cloud of smoke popped into existence over the tureen in the center of the table. It condensed into a scroll, its edges unburning like a film strip run in reverse. Celestia caught it before it fell into the French onion soup.

“A letter from Twilight?” asked Luna.

Celestia read it, her eyes widening with each sentence.

“Er… no… it seems Rainbow Dash learned a valuable lesson today…” she levitated the letter over to Luna. Luna scanned the page.

“Called it…” she said.

They both laughed.

***

Dinner with Twilight was magical. Applejack and Blueblood helped Big Mac to find something to wear from Blueblood’s extensive wardrobe and he showed up at the door of the library looking every bit a prince in his high silk hat and tails.

Twilight answered the door and gasped at the size of his immense bouquet. He levitated it to her and their magic overlapped again, sending tingles up both of their spines. She put the bouquet in a vase of water and they set out on their date.

They drove to dinner in a handsome cab. Big Mac pulled, Twilight rode in the carriage. Big Mac was generous with his money and, surprisingly, his conversation. He obviously couldn’t converse on the subject of Canterlot or life at the palace, but he could listen and offer his opinions. They mostly talked about life in Ponyville and the events of the last three days.

After dinner, they caught the late showing of the new Humphrey Camel/Katharine Hoofburn picture, The Zebrican Queen and laughed at the ponies painted up to look like zebras.

Big Mac walked Twilight to her doorstep.

“Goodnight…” Twilight said, bashfully.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” asked Big Mac.

“I think so… unless this invisibility spell I’m working on backfires for some reason, but if that happens I’ll make sure you hear from me.”

Big Mac laughed.

“So…” he said.

“So…”

They stood across from each other. Big Mac wanted to kiss her, but her lips seemed suddenly miles away.

“So…” he said again.

Twilight put her hoof on his shoulder and giggled. She stretched her muzzle up to his and gave him a quick nose rub. Maybe not a kiss, but enough to set his heart pounding.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she smiled, magicking open her door and disappearing inside.

Big Macintosh waved goodnight and sat down heavily on the porch, taking deep breaths.

***

Pinkie Pie and Blueblood stayed with Tombs after everypony else left for the evening. He hadn’t awoken yet, but he was looking better all the time. Every so often, Dr. Stable or some other Doctor would come in and review his chart with growing amazement. A gaggle of medical students ogled him for nearly an hour.

At last, the lights dimmed and visiting hours ended. Pinkie was the last to leave. She gave Tombs a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. His eyes flickered open.

“Pinkie?”

She darted back to him.

“Tombs, you’re awake!”

He smiled at her. She frowned back and he worried that she was upset with him for provoking Rainbow Dash.

“Pinkie, I…”

She shushed him.

“Don’t you ever,” she growled “Ever do something that stupid again! I thought I’d lost you!”

Tombs smiled.

“Pinkie Promise,” he said.

Pinkie burst into tears and pushed her nose into his chest. He hugged her with shaking arms and she assaulted him with kisses. Patapatapatapata like raindrops all over his face and neck. She finally pulled herself away.

“I’ll be back tomorrow with some board games!” she grinned.

“Please, let me recover first…” he pleaded.

Pinkie just smiled roguishly over her shoulder and disappeared into the hall.

***

Rainbow Dash curled up in her cloud bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so comfortable, as if an enormous weight that had been suffocating her for years was finally off her chest. Her insides unknotted. She knew tomorrow she would fly faster, charge harder and soar higher than she’d ever done before. She hugged her Daring Do plush doll close. Tomorrow was going to be a very good day.The End of Part 17

To Be Continued…

In the meantime, if you want to have your mind blown a little,

look up Kefitzat Haderech on Wikipedia.

Chapter XVIII

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XVIII

Thanks to the concerted efforts of Marmalade and Banana Split, Big Macintosh’s name was now Mud among the mares of Ponyville. Apple sales dipped noticeably whenever Blueblood took his shift at the apple stand.

Strangely enough, the number of colts stopping by to pick up apples almost made up for the shortfall. With Big Macintosh eliminated as a focus for female attention, the stallions of Ponyville found the females much more receptive to their attentions. In fact, the next week following Blueblood’s near-total destruction of Big Macintosh’s good reputation saw the sharpest rise of sexual activity in Ponyville since the second backfiring of Twilight’s “Want it, Need it” spell the previous summer.*

Consciously or unconsciously, they knew they had Big Macintosh to thank for their sudden shifts in fortune. Rather, they had Blueblood to thank, but he was generous and let Big Macintosh keep all the credit.

The only mares who came by with any regularity were Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash, and they were only there to visit Tombs.

“You know, Tombs, it’s really difficult to get any work done around here with you constantly distracted by your mare-friend,” said Blueblood, busily fumbling to make change for an impatient Pegasus.

“Rest assured, sir, I am well aware of the situation and am making every effort to minimize Miss Pie’s impact on my effica-ah!-cy…” Tombs shot a stern look over his shoulder at Pinkie Pie, who was laying on the ground behind him, batting his tail back and forth between her hooves. At “Miss Pie” she’d given it a sharp yank.

She grinned up at him, eyes wide with innocence.

“Pinkie, stop bothering Tombs, he doesn’t need you buzzing around him every second,” said Rainbow Dash, buzzing down to a four-point landing next to the apple stand. A small cloud drifted down next to her. She’d tied it to her tail with a piece of string like a dog on a lead.

Rainbow Dash wasn’t the type of pony to do anything halfway and, since coming out of the closet, she’d taken her “lesbian” image up to eleven. Today she sported an ear stud and bright pink bandana festooned with gay pride buttons. You didn’t have to be Madame Pinkie to see a flannel shirt in her future.

“I thought you might get tired of standing behind the cart all day, so I brought you something to sit on,” offered Rainbow, untying the cloud from its leash. She shoved Pinkie aside and set the little cloud behind Tombs, fluffing it up like a cushion.

Tombs looked back at it.

“That’s very thoughtful, Miss Dash, but I don’t think…”

“Go on, try it out! There’s nothing softer!” said Rainbow Dash, planting her hooves on Tombs’s chest and giving a hearty push. Tombs collapsed backwards, his flank passed right through the cloud and hit the cobblestones with a loud “thwack!”

Rainbow Dash gasped.

“Ohmygosh! I’m so sorry! I forgot you couldn’t sit on clouds!”

Tombs stood and dusted himself off, wincing a little from his bruised behind.

“That’s quite alright, Miss Dash. I appreciate the gesture, but-”

“No, lemme help you! Here…” Rainbow turned around and swatted at Tombs’s flank with her tail, accidentally knocking several apples off the cart and sending them rolling helter-skelter across the square.

“Oh!” yelped Rainbow, watching the apples tumble on the cobblestones “Lemme get those!”

“Don’t trouble yourself, ma’m. I shall retrieve them,” said Tombs.

Tombs picked up an apple with his magic at the exact moment Rainbow Dash grabbed it with her teeth. There was a brief struggle before Blueblood extended a tree trunk-like foreleg and stopped both of them.

“I’ll get them,” he said, stomping out into the square. He’d had enough of these shenanigans.

Rainbow Dash was overcome with remorse for nearly killing Tombs, and her efforts to square things between them were proving nearly as fatal. Even several days after his release from Ponyville Hospital, she was still hanging around, bringing gifts or trying to do small favors for him. The previous day, she’d snuck up to Sweet Apple Acres with a tray of breakfast, but it was ice cold from the flight over. Tombs choked it down anyway, but even his stalwart patience was beginning to wear thin. Blueblood’s had run out long ago and chasing these apples around was about to be the last straw…

Rainbow Dash knocked a whole bushel off the cart.

“Sorry!” her voice echoed in the square “My bad!”

Blueblood was sure any second now his ears would erupt with steam like a boiling kettle. He dropped the apple he had in his mouth and took a deep breath, about to shout what had been on his mind all morning.

“Oh, let me get that,” a clear voice rang like a little bell beneath Blueblood’s chin. He looked down into a pair of deep blue eyes.

“Eulalie!” he exclaimed, choking back the string of curses he’d been about to unleash at Rainbow Dash.

She smiled.

“I’m glad you remember my name, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about me.”

Blueblood shuffled his hooves. She was pouting, but she didn’t seem too upset.

“I’m dreadfully sorry. I didn’t forget about you. Things have been difficult these past few days…” said Blueblood, looking back over at the Applecart, where Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were now fighting a fierce tug-of-war with Tombs playing the part of the rope.

“Difficult for you?” Eulalie groaned dramatically “What about me? Bored out of my mind at the shop, with nopony to keep me company! Long, long days, working round the clock, only stopping briefly to stagger back to my cold, empty bed and rest…”

Blueblood cleared his throat.

“Surely, business can’t be that bad…” he said.

“It’s not really…” said Eulalie “But I am a bit surprised that you never took me up on my invitation. I’ve learned you have quite a reputation among the mares here and when sompeony I’ve heard as much about as you doesn’t stop by, it makes a filly feel like she’s not wanted.”

She pouted her lips, prancing in front of him and tickling his nose with her tail.

“If you’re really familiar with my reputation, I’m surprised you’re even talking to me,” said Blueblood.

Eulalie waved her hoof “Oh, the mares here are so old-fashioned. You mustn’t let their tragically parochial sensibilities dictate how you choose to live your life. A stallion as big-spirited as you shouldn’t be tied down to anypony… If this were somewhere sophisticated, like Canterlot, you’d live like a prince!”

Blueblood coughed.

“Well…”

“Honestly, I’m surprised somepony as well spoken as yourself is wasting his life at an apple stand when you could be so much more!”

“Well… I am suddenly developing an interest in the lingerie business.”

“Really?” Eulalie’s eyes widened in mock surprise.

“Quite,” answered Blueblood.

“Well, follow me!” she turned to leave. Blueblood followed her swaying flank out the square and down Saddle Street.

Back at the apple cart, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie kicked up a cloud of dust as they wrestled over which of them should stop bothering Tombs first.

***

Big Macintosh was out on a date with Twilight Sparkle. This would be their third. They hadn’t kissed yet, but Big Mac hoped to work up the courage before the end of the date. The annual Ponyville Cloud Sculpting competition was that afternoon. The event drew Pegasus talent from all over Equestria and was as entertaining for spectators as it was for participants.

They’d rented a boat at Ponyville Lake and Big Macintosh rowed them lazily across the still water. Near the middle of the lake was a small island with a romantic little gazebo at the center that would be the perfect place to watch the competition. Big Mac thought it would also be the perfect place for a first kiss.

As the little boat glided across the lake, fish leaped into the sky to catch low-flying bugs while the sleek silhouettes of squids slithered by underneath.

“This was a wonderful idea, Blueblood,” said Twilight, lounging at the bow and looking down with fascination at the dark shapes that swam below. She wanted to sit closer to Big Mac, but every time she inched closer, the tiny craft would teeter precariously. Big Mac silently chided himself for his lack of foresight.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take over? I could cast a spell to keep the oars going,” offered Twilight.

“Nnope,” said Big Mac, hauling over another stroke. The hoof-loops on the oars were several sizes too small, and he fumbled with them constantly. It made rowing awkward and exhausting, even with the Prince’s body in as good shape as it was, but he wouldn’t suffer the embarrassment of making his date do any work on his behalf.

By the time they reached the island, Big Mac was ready to keel over. The boat slid up the embankment and Twilight leaped off the bow, landing daintily in the soft grass. Big Mac tumbled out after her. He’d worked hard every day of his life and it had been a long time since he’d felt so exhausted.

“Don’t forget the picnic basket!” Twilight called, already at the gazebo. He took the basket in his teeth and staggered up the tiny hill to where Twilight waited.

“Looks great! I’m starving!” she said, licking her lips. She cast some quick spells and the basket disgorged its contents so that they could arrange themselves in an organized fashion. Big Mac tried to help, but his magic was still clumsy and only ended up interfering with her carefully woven spells.

“Really, Blueblood, I’ve never seen a unicorn so deft with his hooves, but so awkward when it came to magic,” she laughed.

Big Mac blushed.

“I mean, it’s not that bad, I’m just surprised the nephew of the Princess didn’t learn better,” she added, noting Big Mac’s self-consciousness.

Big Mac nodded.

“The lake looks really lovely. This was a great idea…” said Twilight, changing the subject.

They dug into the food and watched the ducks swimming across the water as they ate. Twilight talked for a long time about how wise and powerful Princess Celestia was, and how much she’d learned.

Big Mac listened quietly, only interrupting when he had a question.

After they finished eating, they lay together on the picnic blanket and watched the pegasi push their clouds into place for the competition. From the ground, the pegasi were barely visible as multicolored specks flitting around between the clouds. Teams of pegasi worked together, expertly shearing and squishing the clouds like mountain-sized blobs of clay.

“Ooh, I think that one’s going to be a dragon!” said Twilight, pointing with her hoof.

“There’s a barn,” said Big Mac, gesturing to a blocky cloud taking shape off to the east.

“That team over there is pretty ambitious, it looks like they’re working with a storm cloud,” observed Twilight.

Indeed, one team of pegasi seemed to have bitten off more than it could chew. They picked timidly at the billowing black cloud, trying to mold it without causing a thunderstorm or a downpour. If one of the sculptors accidentally burst the heavy cloud, it would lose its stiff, marbled appearance and the sculpture would end up a soggy mess.

As the day wore on into the afternoon, the clouds took shape like the topiary of gods. There were all the usual entries; a heart, an elephant, a family of bunnies, and of course the obligatory bust of Princess Celestia. It looked like the Celestia team was working in competition with the stormcloud team, as the thick, black thunderhead was starting to look more and more like Princess Luna.

They really went all out, the colored shapes of the two teams were scarcely more than blurs as they swooped and dove to shape the delicate cloudstuff. The Celestia team wove silky strands of cirrus together to form Celestia’s graceful wings while the Luna team teased ball lighting into place to represent the sea of stars whose shifting tides made Luna’s shimmering mane. For Luna’s tiara, the sculptors carefully nudged into place a tower of cloud so dark and volatile it appeared to be a chunk of onyx, impossibly suspended in the air.

The Celestia team redoubled their efforts, unfurling long banners of rainbow and folding them into jewels that would sparkle and glimmer in Celestia’s necklace, but though the towering bust of Celestia was breathtaking, the sculpture of Luna was still more beautiful. If the Luna team could complete the statue before the time limit, there was no doubt they would win.

Big Macintosh and Twilight watched the competition in silent fascination as it drifted overhead. By now the sky was speckled with discarded chunks of cloud as each of the teams put the finishing touches on their masterpieces, the exhausted sculptors drifting off to rest and admire their hoofwork. Only the Luna and Celestia teams were still going full-bore. By now, both teams were exhausted, but they continued to push themselves to the limit.

“Oh Blueblood, it’s so beautiful,” said Twilight.

Big Mac looked over at her.

They gazed into each others’ eyes.

“Blueblood,” said Twilight, moistening her lips.

“Eeyup?”

“I think…” she drew closer. Big Mac inched himself across the blanket towards her.

“I think…” she said again. Her purple lips parted softly. Big Macintosh leaned in…

“I think that’s our boat,” said Twilight, thrusting her hoof in front of his face and pointing out at the lake behind him.

Big Mac snapped back to reality and rolled over to follow her gesture. Sure enough, their boat had slid down the bank and into the water.

Big Mac leaped to his hooves and galloped down to the edge of the island, splashing into the water after the boat.

“Blueblood, stop!” said Twilight.

He kept going. The water got deep very quickly and soon he couldn’t feel the bottom. The boat was still several yards beyond his reach.

“Blueblood, come back!” Twilight yelled, standing on the edge of the embankment “It’s alright!”

She concentrated and reached out with her magic. Purple energy enveloped the boat and lifted it out of the water. Twilight pulled it back to shore.

Big Mac slapped his forehead and turned to paddle back to Twilight. He dragged himself up onto the bank beneath the levitating rowboat, his coat was all muddy and there was a lily pad in his mane, to say nothing of the fact that he was completely soaking wet.

“Sorry,” he said.

Twilight giggled.

“It’s alright. It was very noble of you to go out after the boat, even if it wasn't necessary,” she smiled “The important thing is, everything’s going to be just-”

A bolt of lightning split the air and blew the boat in half. Big Mac tackled Twilight to the ground, shielding her with his body.

Up above, the sculpture of Luna shuddered. Lightning rained down over the lake like spears of fire. A great gash opened up in Luna’s chin as rain burst forth in gushing torrents. The sculptors could only draw back and watch the tragedy from a safe distance as the magnificent bust crumbled before their very eyes. Even the Celestia team took no joy in seeing the destruction of something so beautiful.

Big Macintosh and Twilight were drenched. They galloped for the gazebo and huddled together under the tiny roof.

“I’m s-s-so sorry about this, T-Twilight…” said Big Mac through chattering teeth.

“It-t-t-t-t’s okay…” Twilight scootched in closer, pressing her body up against Big Macintosh, trying to absorb as much warmth as possible. Big Macintosh put his hoof over her shoulder. She tensed at first, but relaxed and allowed herself to get drawn into the warm space under his powerful chest.

“T-t-t-thanks,” she said, looking up at him, seeming even smaller with her purple coat plastered to her body, her mane hanging heavy and soggy around her shoulders. Big Mac never wanted to kiss her more than he did right then, but he couldn’t move. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had not to become aroused. He was sure that if he did, it would completely ruin the romance of the moment, so he contented himself to sitting there and enjoying the warmth that steamed from her shivering body.

It took nearly an hour for the sculpture to shed all its stored up rain. By the end, the once-magnificent cloud-statue looked like a foal’s clay model from art class.

Big Macintosh and Twilight peeked their heads out of the gazebo and looked up. The last few drops of rain that pattered around them were salty Pegasus tears as the Luna team surveyed the damage.

“That’s so sad…” said Twilight “I hope they have better luck next year.”

She turned to Big Mac.

“Do you want to stay for the judging?”

Big Mac shivered, his skin turning blue beneath his white coat.

“I guess not…” said Twilight. She trotted down to the edge of the water and planted her hooves firmly. Her horn ignited and she sent up a purple flare. Hopefully, the boat rental shop at the edge of the lake would see and send a boat to pick them up. Big Mac sighed. He didn’t get a kiss and his date ended up rescuing him. To top it off, he wouldn’t get his deposit back on the rowboat.

***

Eulalie stretched luxuriously across a bolt of silk while Blueblood panted beside her.

“Aaaaah *eek*” her voice broke into a squeak as she sighed “Big Macintosh, you were amazing. I swear I heard thunderclaps.”

“Me, too,” said Blueblood, basking in the aerobic high of post-coital ecstasy. Eulalie was amazing. Even more amazing, he still remembered her name after sleeping with her.

“Eulalie, Eulalie, Eulalie,” he repeated to himself, feeling the strangeness of her name on his tongue.

“Big, Big, Big,” mocked Eulalie.

“Do you want to do this again?” he asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” she smiled “But first, I need a beer. Want one?”

Blueblood squealed. This looked like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.The End of Part 18…

To Be Continued…

*MLP:FiM S03E15 “Summer of Love” was banned by the networks and can now only be found in private collections -F

Chapter XIX

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XIX

“You and I in a little toy shop

buy a bag of balloons with the money we’ve got

set them free at the break of dawn

till one by one, they are gone…”

Pinkie Pie sang to herself. She loved that song, even if the beginning was a little sad. Balloons loved to be free, but she knew from experience that it was heartbreaking to let them go. She skipped as she sang and by the time she got to the library, she’d worked up a satisfying burn in her triceps, glutes and cannons.

Skipping was such great exercise, how else would a pony that ate so many sweets stay so thin? Try skipping everywhere you go and watch the pounds melt away.

A small book bounced on her back, slapping merrily against her flank with every skip. She made a game of bouncing it from her flank to her shoulders and head and back. Poor Twilight would probably pitch a fit to see a book bounced around like a hackey sack, but Pinkie knew she wasn’t hurting it. It was probably enjoying the ride!

“I think of you and let it goooo…” she finished at the doorstep of the library.

Pinkie gave a perfunctory rap at the door before letting herself in. Twilight was updating the card catalog. She gasped when she noticed Pinkie.

“Pinkie! Be careful with that book!” she scolded.

Pinkie started and looked back. Without realizing, she’d been balancing the book on her hind hoof.

“Oops! Sorry Twilight!”

Twilight took the book up with her magic and fussed over it like a baby, whisking a speck of dust from its cover before setting it gently on the table to be checked in once she was done with her cataloging.

“You’re really burning through the Kilgore Trot, Pinkie!” remarked Twilight.

“I know! Tombs turned me onto them! I think Laughterhouse Five was his best yet!”

“That’s great Pinkie, I-”

“…Have you read it? It’s all about this mare, Filly Pilgrim, she comes unstuck in time and gets to relive all her happiest moments over and over again for eternity!”

Twilight laughed gently.

“Of course I’ve read it, Pinkie, it’s a classi-”

Pinkie kept going.

“…Player Piano was awesome, too! Ooohmygosh and Cat’s Cradle totally blew my mind!” she waggled her forehooves in the air to try and mimic the impossible string trick described in the book.

“Well, you know, the Gryphons really play games with string like that, but the ninth variant described in the book doesn’t actually-”

“…And who knew a story about Wheaties would be so interesting!? Talk about your Breakfast of Champions!”

“Pinkie!”

“Yes Twilight?” Pinkie fluttered her eyelashes.

“Do you want to check out another book? You know there are a lot of great authors besides Kilgore Trot. What about Buck Palahniuck? Lullaby was really sweet.”

“Nah. Tombs is taking me to the Springtime Frolic! I don’t have time to read, I’ve gotta prepare!”

“Oh, well that’s great, Pinkie…” Twilight blushed. Of course she could have guessed that Pinkie and Tombs would go to the annual festival of life and fertility as a couple, but actually talking about taking a date to the Springtime Frolic was tantamount to public discussion of sex. “Taking Somepony to the Frolic” was a well-known euphemism for screwing.

“What about you Twilight, are you taking somepony to the Frolic?” Pinkie grinned.

Twilight winced.

“Er, well…”

“Did Prince Blueblood ask you?”

“Um…”

“Did he? Didhedidhedidhe!?” Pinkie bounced on her tippie-hooves, vibrating so fast her words melded into a motorboat-like babble.

“Don’t worry, Pinkie. I’ll have plenty of fun at the Frolic,” said Twilight.

Truth be told, Blueblood hadn’t yet asked her to the festival. Twilight supposed he was worried about being too forward, but she hoped he was just waiting for the right moment. They had a date set up for that afternoon. Maybe he was going to ask her then. Twilight smiled at the warm thoughts of spending the Frolic festival with Blueblood, the food, the singing, the wine…

In her secret heart, she also entertained shadowy dreams about the night of the festival, on the warm, wet grass, beneath the hanging lanterns in some secluded spinney…

But of course Twilight kept those thoughts locked in their secret place. She tucked them deep down (they would burst out later that night, you better believe it) and went back to her cataloging.

Pinkie hung out for a while before getting distracted by a mote of dust (did she just hear a small yelp?) and following it on its adventures back out the door and into the park. Twilight smiled and shook her head, closing the door behind her hyperactive filly friend before stamping Laughterhouse Five in green ink and popping it neatly back in its place on the shelf.

***

“So, Big Macintosh, are you taking that toothsome purple creature to the Springtime Frolic?” asked Blueblood, nudging and winking as he did so.

Big Mac only answered with a shy smile. He was indeed planning to ask Twilight Sparkle to the festival, but he didn’t imagine he would do anything there besides steal a kiss. Not that it was anypony’s business. Since the disastrous day at the Cloud Sculpting competition, Big Macintosh hadn’t come any closer to kissing Twilight Sparkle. The moment just never seemed right and he was content to enjoy her company. Maybe the night of the festival would be the night.

Blueblood smirked knowingly before returning to the distasteful job of shoveling out the effluent pile beneath the Apple family privy. He grimaced and gripped the handle of the shovel between his teeth as daintily as he could. Big Mac heaved another shovelful of manure into the wagon.

The Apple family saved the night soil beneath the privies as fertilizer for their crops. Every scrap was valuable. Each shovelful they kept was a shovelful they didn’t have to buy from somepony else, and when one’s profit margins were as razor thin as the Apples’, every little bit helped.

Of all the chores Blueblood had taken up at the farm, this one by far made him miss his horn the most. He cast an envious glance at Big Mac, who used his magic to work the shovel without even getting up from a sitting position.

Blueblood noted how much heavier his body had become. The routine at Sweet Apple Acres was strenuous, but the diet was definitely peasant fare, rich in carbohydrates and salt. He was dismayed to see his once svelte figure disappearing under a bulky layer muscle and fat. Not that he’d done a much better job taking care of Big Mac’s body; Blueblood was doing more chores every day, but he still shouldered a mere fraction of the burden Big Macintosh carried at the farm, and his laziness was starting to show, particularly in the paunchy gut that burgeoned at his waist.

In the several weeks since the Rainbow Dash incident, life at Sweet Apple Acres had settled into a healthy routine, with Blueblood and Big Mac sharing the burden of chores. Between Blueblood’s laziness and Big Mac’s unfamiliarity with unicorn magic, neither was working at top efficiency, but together, they actually managed to get ahead of things, leaving time for occasional dates with their respective sweethearts.

Blueblood thought of Eulalie and smiled again in spite of the heavy stench that assailed his nostrils.

Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie visited the farm often, finding excuses to drop by and visit Applejack (and, by extension, Tombs and Big Mac) whenever they could, but Eulalie never dropped in, or checked up, or left messages or had any sort of contact with Blueblood outside their regular liaisons in the back of the lingerie shop.

In spite of her aloofness, or perhaps because of it, Blueblood found himself growing more fond of Eulalie each day. Here was a mare that was neither clingy nor possessive. She didn’t make demands on his time or expect him to change for the sake of her preferences. He was free to be utterly selfish with her, but he found he didn’t want to. He lingered longer with her before and after their sexual encounters, probing her for information about her family, her past, her likes and dislikes. She danced around the questions, offering him only tantalizing hints about her personal life that he cherished all the more for their scarcity. To his shock and growing delight, he found himself reevaluating his previous attitudes about monogamy. Maybe “wife” didn’t have to be a four-letter word…

***

Just as the sun was getting high and the first trickles of stinging sweat began to run down the foreheads of the two stallions, Tombs shimmered down to the pair with iced tea and cold sandwiches, which Blueblood devoured with abandon.

“I say, Tombs,” said Blueblood between smacking bites of cucumber sandwich “do you have plans for the upcoming springtime celebrations?”

Tombs cleared his throat and pretended not to hear the question.

“Don’t play coy with me,” Blueblood smirked “I bet you and that babbling pink filly will be doing the double-decker mambo before anypony else is even under starter’s orders.”

Tombs betrayed no emotion.

“I’m sure that Miss Pie’s plans for the Frolic will take full advantage of the festivities, sire,” he said.

Somewhere, Pinkie Pie suffered a brief attack of tinnitus. It had taken her a while to recognize these attacks as another quirk of her Pinkie sense and not a developing ear problem. She made a mental note to address Tombs’s infraction appropriately. Maybe something with whipped cream…

“I’ll bet she is,” Blueblood grinned, downing his iced tea and taking a seat in the shade of a nearby apple tree “I’ll bet she is…”

Whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles…

Big Mac poked Blueblood with the tip of his shovel.

“Eeeugh!” complained Blueblood “Don’t you know where that’s been?”

Big Mac gestured back to the pile, still only halfway gone.

“Don’t dawdle. Ah got a date with Twilight tonight and we need to finish this up afore ah’m late.”

“Make sure you shower before you go see her, old chum. A Blueblood by any other name should still smell as sweet.”

Big Mac dropped a shovel at Blueblood’s hooves and went back to the pile. Blueblood scowled at the hateful implement before picking it up in his teeth and trotting over to help his friend.

***

Preparations for Ponyville’s Springtime Frolic were in full swing. Everywhere the color and pageantry of nature’s bounty were in bloom. Bright banners hung from windows and strings of fluttering flags crisscrossed the air above the flower-covered streets. A large maypole had been erected in the town square, little foals chattered excitedly and splashed in the fountain as their beaming parents watched from nearby benches.

Like the Running of the Leaves and Winter Wrap Up festivals, the Frolic wasn’t just an excuse to have fun, but an important contribution to the cycle of the seasons. On the day of the celebration, everypony gamboled merrily through the lush gables and flowerbeds of the surrounding countryside, shaking the pollen from the newly flowering plants and spreading it on the wind. The excited pollen germinated the seeds and fruit the ponies would harvest as the seasons rolled on. How one chose to go about shaking pollen from the flowers was up to the conscience of the individual pony (or ponies) doing the shaking.

It wasn’t just the town covered in bright colors and finery, the townsponies, too, went all out with festive garb and costumes. In the week leading up to the Springtime Frolic, mares bedecked themselves with garlands of flowers and bright ribbons in their manes. Different colors of flowers symbolized the different hopes each mare had for the upcoming festival. Tradition called for mares to wear a wreath of flowers in the color of their choice around their flanks like a bull’s-eye, though only a few ponies still observed that particular custom. The traditional colors were red, blue and white. Red for mares who were spoken for (or who weren’t interested in a date), blue for mares who were hoping somepony would invite them to be Frolic Partners and white for virginal mares that hoped to be propositioned at the festival. There were other colors with other meanings, but unless you were in the know, you didn’t need to know.

Single Colts hoping to attract the attentions of young fillies wore a pair of jangling bells fastened to the base of their tail, a belt of sleighbells around their waist, large pairs of false antlers or other accoutrements to attract mares’ attentions and accentuate their virility. On the other hoof, colts that were married or spoken for were supposed to gird their loins and hide them from sight. A colt caught wearing a pair of bells by his girlfriend could expect to be in some very serious trouble.

A mare wearing bells? It could mean a lot of things. Rainbow Dash preferred to think it meant she was tearing down gender barriers.

The flower/bell system didn’t exclusively imply a desire for heterosexual partnership, and there were any number of flower combinations that would communicate Rainbow’s preferences, but the bells got the point across.

“Everywhere I go, I’m jinglin’,” Rainbow smirked to herself.

Her large brass bells were certainly turning heads, and more than a few fillies dropped flirtatious hints as she trotted through the town, but there was only one pink-haired head Rainbow hoped to turn. She pumped her wings and exploded into the sky with a proud jangle.

It was only the work of a few wingbeats to carry her across town to Fluttershy’s cottage. She slowed to a stop and hovered outside Fluttershy’s window, taking a few seconds to inspect her reflection in the glass and test her breath. Her mane was amazing and her breath smelled like mint leaves. She was gold!

Rainbow tapped at the window.

***

“Oh yeah… You’re a dirty stallion, aren’t you?” Fluttershy whispered into the pages of Massive Mustangs “What’s that? You say you want to hear my outdoor voice? Well, I don’t know…”

She turned the page with her mouth; her hooves were occupied.

Angel scratched at the door. Fluttershy looked up from the drool-covered photo spread.

“Just a minute, Angel sweetie, Mama’s having her private time…” she called before returning to the colossal stallion with the shimmering black coat “Now, where were we?”

Tap tap tap.

“I said just a minute, Angel dear...”

Tappity tap tap.

“Fffffffffffffffff…” Fluttershy bit her lip and sucked air through her teeth. Almost there…

“Fluttershy, open up, It’s me!”

Fluttershy looked around. Rainbow Dash had her face pressed up against the window, trying to see through the glare into the dark room.

Fluttershy yelped and stuffed the magazine under the bed, triggering a small landslide of dirty literature that spilled out around her hooves and left her ankle deep in copies of Hard Stallions, Massive Mustangs, Outlandishly Outsized Unicorn Horns (and the mares that love them), Zebra Fetishist, Playmare and National Geographic. She squealed with embarrassment and kicked at the pile until it was all safely jammed beneath her bed, then pulled her quilt down to cover the gap.

She didn’t know how much Rainbow Dash had seen and braced herself for the worst when she opened the window.

Rainbow Dash swooped in and landed with a jingle jangle of bells.

“Hi, Rainbow Dash, what can I do for you?” asked Fluttershy.

“Aw nuthin’. I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop by,” Rainbow puffed out her wings and tried to flex as casually as possible.

“That’s nice. What’ve you got there behind your tail?”

“Oh, these?” Rainbow turned around, jingling her bells in Fluttershy’s face “You like ‘em?”

“Oh... uh… sure…” said Fluttershy “What are they for?”

“Uh, doy, for the Springtime Frolic?”

“Ohhh, is it time for the Springtime Frolic already?”

“Yeah, where have you been?”

“I guess I’ve just been busy…” Fluttershy’s eyes flicked momentarily to her bed and back “The animals have been very demanding lately.”

“I guess so…” Rainbow glanced downward “Huh, did you sit in some water earlier?”

“…Yes.”

Rainbow Dash peered closer. Fluttershy stood up and changed the subject.

“So why are you wearing bells? I thought mares wore flowers to the Frolic.”

“Well who says a mare can’t wear bells?”

“Nopony, I guess.”

“And who says a mare can’t ask another mare to the Frolic?”

“I never heard anypony say that…”

“And who says that maybe you and I shouldn’t go to the Frolic together?”

“Nopon…” Fluttershy stopped when Rainbow’s words sunk in “Umm…”

“Exactly!” declared Rainbow Dash, jingling proudly.

“Well, I guess I’m saying-”

“Can you say ‘best Springtime Frolic ever’!?”

“I don’t know if I-”

“This is gonna be so awesome!”

Rainbow had to sniff back tears of happiness. This was going great! First shot right out of the box! Of course, did she expect anything less? She knew going for the “comically large” was the right choice.

“Actually Rainbow…” started Fluttershy.

“Not now, Flutters, I gotta jet. I’ll see you at the Frolic, okay?”

“Um!”

Whoosh!

Rainbow was away.

“I don’t feel that way about you!” Fluttershy shout-whispered out the window. Too late.

Angel pawed impatiently at her bedroom door. Fluttershy cast a longing glance toward the pile of magazines under her bed and unlocked her door with a sigh.

***

Big Mac and Twilight sat at the café in the Town Common and drank boba tea as they watched the pre-Frolic gaiety. Neither Big Macintosh nor Twilight were dressed in costume for the festival, but they laughed together at the outlandish outfits of the ponies walking by.

A colt tipped his jester's hat as he passed by Twilight and Big Mac’s table. A colorful Punchinello capered to the delight of a small crowd of foals. A Pegasus balancing on stilts and wearing a tall papier-mâché head lampooning Princess Celestia handed out comedic proclamations from the street corner before clumsily fleeing a pair of praetorian guards. Near the fountain, an actual twelve-point buck towered over an excited gaggle of fillies that marveled at his horns and took timid prods at his stubby tail. Rumor had it he was a forest prince from the wild and dangerous Everfree Forest, but nopony knew for sure. He always turned up around festival time and he didn’t hurt anypony, so nopony asked too many questions. Having fun was all that mattered at the Springtime Frolic.

“Man, what a crazy festival, huh?” said Twilight, watching Big Mac as closely as she could without being obvious about it.

“Eeyup.”

“I’m sure you probably think it’s stupid…”

Big Mac looked down at her.

“Well… I dunno about that…”

“Oh, well, I dunno about it either, I just thought you might think it was stupid…” Twilight backpedaled.

“I think it’s quite good fun,” Big Mac shot her his best imitation of Blueblood’s roguish grin.

Big Mac taught Blueblood how to be a good farmpony and Blueblood taught Big Mac everything he knew about looking and sounding the part of a handsome prince. The arrangement was working quite well, and Big Macintosh found himself growing more articulate with each passing day. Twilight responded exactly as he hoped, and he found her more receptive to his attentions with every date.

“Well, I’m glad you think so, because I sure think so!” Twilight snorted. She took a sip of her boba tea and the straw gargled loudly. She grinned nervously up at him.

“So…” he said.

“So…”

Big Mac looked around and tried to tug at his non-existent yoke.

“It looks like it’s going to be beautiful weather for the Frolic,” suggested Twilight.

“It certainly does.”

Big Mac slurped up some boba bubbles.

“You know, Rainbow Dash is weather captain of Ponyville, and she told me we could expect sunny skies all day!” said Twilight.

“That sounds lovely,”

“I know!”

“Oh, don’t you two just make the cutest couple!”

Big Macintosh and Twilight looked up. Rarity strutted between the tables, a wreath of virginal white (yeah, right!) draped across her slender shoulders. Her giant sunhat provided her and several nearby ponies with shade.

“Hey Rarity! I love the hat!” said Twilight.

“Thank you, my dear. I can make one for you if you like!”

“That’s alright,” Twilight grinned.

“Oh, and is that Prince Blueblood? He’s certainly filled out! I like it. So rugged!” she cooed.

Big Mac bowed gracefully.

“You’ll be the cutest couple at the Frolic, I’m sure of it!” exclaimed Rarity.

“Oh, well actually, Blueblood hasn’t asked me yet,” Twilight blurted out.

Big Mac froze. Rarity and Twilight both locked eyes on him.

“Well, err…”

Rarity excused herself.

“I’m just going in to get something from the café, ciao, darlings!” she whisked away so fast she left her sunhat spinning in the air. She retrieved it with a nervous grin, then vanished inside the café.

Twilight blushed and pawed at the ground.

“S-sorry…” she mumbed “Rarity was something murmur…”

“Twilight,” started Big Mac.

“Yes?” Twilight’s head whipped around, her face shining up at his. Her heart gave a little flutter.

“Would you like…”

Deep breaths, Twilight…

“Would you like to be my Frolic Partner?”

“Oh, Blueblood, I…”

“I don’t mean it in any untoward way or nuthin’ –anything.”

“Of course I will,” Twilight sighed and wrapped her foreleg around his, pressing her cheek to his chest. His heart beat against her ear like a bass drum.

***

That night, Twilight could hardly sleep. She was too excited! She tossed and turned until Spike couldn’t take it anymore and stomped, grousing, downstairs with basket and blankey in hand.

Twilight gave sleep a few more fruitless minutes before giving up. She had to share her excitement with somepony! She lit a candle and trotted over to her desk. She picked out a fresh quill and swirled the tip in her good inkpot.

Dear Princess Celestia…End of Part 19…

To be continued…

Chapter XX

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XX

Princess Celestia slept soundly, sprawled in an ocean of silk sheets and luxurious feather quilts, her angel white cheek caressed by soft pillows of finest goose down. She wore her splendid mane stuffed in a black satin snood to smother its shimmering light while she slept. Her golden tiara, the Yoke of Harmony, all the gilded raiments of her station now adorned a dressmaker’s dummy in an alcove at the far end of her vast apartments. A curtain of thick velvet shielded these, too, so that their soft glow would not disturb the royal slumber.

Though Celestia had lived for a millennium and a half, the pleasures of the flesh had lost none of their allure, neither had her appetites become twisted by the eons, as had those of more than a few beings with whom she shared the double-edged gift of immortality. Though she forewent much gratification for the sake of her subjects, she still allowed herself the occasional indulgence, and the softest silk sheets money could buy were definitely one of them.

If she had an inclination toward any vice in particular, it was gluttony. Scattered across her room were the empty, licked clean plates of a lavish six-course meal. On a silver tray beside her bed drifted the lonely crumbs of a chocolate cake, so rich its consumption would have been fatal to any mortal pony, literal “Death by Chocolate.” Her divine metabolism took it all in stride. No morsel of unwanted fat would ever find its way to her prefect waist, no cellulite would ever profane her sublime flank. She knew no indigestion, only the deep, luxuriant sleep and guiltless dreams of one who fully enjoys and appreciates the delicious things in life.

A burst of green flame exploded in the darkness and something hard whapped Celestia on the end of her muzzle.

Celestia stirred, grumbling as she navigated the fog of preconsciousness. What was Twilight doing sending her a letter at this hour? Her first inclination was to leave it until morning, but if Twilight was sending her letters in the middle of the night, it might be more important than a mere friendship lesson. If it was an emergency, she wanted to be there for her student.

She groped through the dark landscape of silk and pillows for the scroll before giving up and undoing her snood, bathing the room in the tranquil, variegated light of her mane.

She found the scroll and flicked it open, cracking the wax seal with a sweep of her hoof.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’m so excited for the Springtime Frolic tomorrow; I can hardly sleep!

You will probably be surprised to learn that I’ve met somepony and he’s asked me to be Frolic Partners.

Don’t worry though! It’s somepony I trust very much.

Over these past few weeks, I’ve been dating the most amazing stallion I’ve ever met. He’s unpretentious and charming, thoughtful and attentive. He’s never once taken advantage of me or behaved like anything but the perfect gentlecolt. I won’t lie, I also think he’s exceptionally handsome.

I’ve never been in a relationship like this before. I’ve never really been in any relationship before, but I just know this one is special. I think he might be the one.

You’ll never guess who it is, so I’ll tell you:

It’s Prince Blueblo

Celestia couldn’t read any more because the letter burst into flames. She sat up in her bed, trembling. Godlike though she was, Celestia’s heart was still Pony. She lived and laughed and loved and longed with the best of them.

And she could get angry…

***

Shining Armor trotted briskly through the streets of Canterlot. The bright lights and jollity of the City without Sleep passed him on either side, unnoticed. He jaunted left, hurrying down a dim side street, deserted except by a gaggle of heartbreakers migrating to greener pastures on a street corner across town. They teased Shining Armor with catcalls and lascivious promises before realizing who he was and shushing each other into silence. They needn’t have worried; he was in too much of a rush to deal with them.

If the festivities building up to Ponyville’s Springtime Frolic were slightly tawdry, then the revelry in Canterlot was downright hedonistic. It was all the Royal Guard could do to keep citizens from mounting one another in the streets. Everywhere the capital was alive with parties, songs and merrymaking. A Changeling princess danced on a makeshift stage for the gold (and love energy) of a crowd of hooting colts, her twisting form flickered through a slideshow of great beauties. Sophia Sorrel, Misty Meadows, Skywishes, Rarity and Toola-Roola all waggled their flanks and blew kisses at lovestruck stallions before vanishing in a flash of green flame to make way for the next red-hot mare that would probably not appreciate her likeness used in such a manner. Up the street a ways, Shining Armor dodged a trio of unicorns that drunkenly belted verses of She was only an Earth Pony (but she knew an awful lot about how to use a Unicorn’s horn) as they staggered from tavern to tavern. He nodded to a pair of overworked royal guards as they helped a half-conscious filly into the back of a hansom cab. She repaid their kindness by vomiting all over both of them. Shining Armor winced in sympathy before turning up the Royal Promenade that led to the Palace.

Celestia was waiting for him in the gilded foyer of her apartments, undressed and flustered. Shining Armor nearly blushed when he saw her without her yoke, tiara and shoes. Of course it wasn’t her state of undress that shocked him, but her lack of composure. She seemed more naked without her royal bearing than she ever could without her golden panoply. In the warmth and closeness of her private apartments, the situation seemed almost intimate.

“Shining Armor, thank you so much for coming. I apologize for waking you at this hour,” greeted Celestia, regaining some of her regal air.

Shining Armor bowed low.

“I serve the Princesses day and night without thought of rest,” replied Shining Armor.

“And I am grateful,” Celestia tapped his shoulder with her horn, indicating that he could rise.

“I hope that my messenger didn’t disturb Cadence,” she continued.

Shining Armor gave a half-smile.

“She’s not at home tonight. Her latest invention has been demanding all her attention these past few days. You know how she gets.”

Celestia nodded.

“I’m interested to learn more, but later. Right now, I have grave news,” the Princess was once again stern.

“I beg you; tell me, your highness.”

“It’s about your sister.”

“Twilight? Is she in trouble?” Shining Armor’s ears were straight up now, flicking worriedly from side to side.

“She could be. It seems my idiot nephew, your cousin-in-law, Prince Blueblood, has somehow beguiled Twilight Sparkle into promising to be his Frolic Partner.”

Shining Armor’s eyes shot wide open, his nostrils flared.

“My sister? My Twilie?” he clenched his teeth.

“It seems so,” nodded Celestia.

Shining Armor could hardly think, could hardly talk. He shifted and pawed, dancing in place as if standing on hot coals, torn between his duties to his Princess and his duties to his sister.

“Blueblood, that oaf? Blueblood, that scoundrel?” he exclaimed.

“The same. So you can see why I called you here.”

“Of course! I’ll go to her at once! I’ll forbid her to see him again!”

Celestia silenced him with a raised hoof.

“Calm yourself, Captain. You know that won’t work. If you forbid her to see him, it will only fan the flames of her passion. It won’t help matters.”

Shining Armor took some deep breaths.

“I have to do something! She’s my sister!”

Celestia nodded again.

“This is what you will do. Pick two of your most trustworthy guards. Ideally, they should have black coats but, if that’s not feasible, have them black their coats with soot. No uniforms. No cutie marks, black those with soot as well.”

Shining Armor grunted affirmation. Celestia continued.

“They will fly to Ponyville. They will find Prince Blueblood and encourage him to return to Canterlot with them.”

“And if he refuses?”

“They will be as persuasive as they need to be,” answered Celestia.

Shining Armor nodded his understanding.

“Now, go. Twilight Sparkle is precious to both of us.”

“By your command, Princess,” Shining Armor bowed low again before departing. He galloped to the Royal Barracks as fast as his legs could carry him.

***

Princess Luna was somewhere beneath the Taurus constellation, personally fluffing the Crab Nebula with a silver afro pick. Around her, the Lunar Guard flitted between the stars, moving in shadow like the black clad running crew of a stage production. Once that sector was fully shined and polished, she mustered the squadron to move to the next star cluster.

“Good work, team! We’re almost done tonight!” said Luna “We only have Scorpio and Virgo left to do before morning.”

The squadron murmured excitedly. If they pushed hard, they might finish early!

Luna surveyed her team, smiling in satisfaction at how well everypony was working together. Her project to restore the night sky, whose care and maintenance had slipped a little during her thousand year hiatus, was going better than expected.

Two of her pegasi didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm, however. Luna noted their haggard appearance and lack of attention.

“Everypony is dismissed, except for Cassini and Galileo. You two, come here.”

The rest of the squadron dispersed to their tasks, Cassini and Galileo approached the Princess, their tired wings flapping raggedly as they struggled to stay awake.

“Why are you two still here? Where are your reliefs? The shift change was two hours ago.”

“They couldn’t make it. Moondancer says they got pulled aside by Shining Armor,” Cassini yawned. Galileo agreed, rubbing the bags beneath his eyes.

“I see. Strange, I wasn’t informed of any changes to the schedule,” said Luna “Go home, I will see to this matter personally.”

Cassini and Galileo thanked her and flew off. Too tired to return home, they found a comfy cloud on which they could wait out the night. They curled up together for warmth and were sound asleep in seconds.

***

Shining Armor hadn’t gone to bed. He was awake and pacing the floor of the barracks, impatient for the report from Skylighter and Jazzy-Belle that their mission had been successful. The arrival of Princess Luna was a complete shock.

Shining Armor squared his shoulders and bowed low.

“Good evening, majesty,” he greeted.

“Good evening, Shining Armor. As always, you are diligent and unswerving in the execution of your duties, but what has you awake at this late hour?” asked Luna, folding her wings and trotting into the flickering light of the barracks gaslamps.

“Do not let my restlessness disturb you princess, it is a matter of little consequence.”

“Your modesty is appreciated, but unnecessary,” said Luna “Whatever has you up and about must have some importance, else it needn’t have disrupted the operations of my personal retinue.”

Shining Armor faltered.

“An oversight on my part, your highness, I was not aware those guards had a prior commitment.”

“Such oversight is uncharacteristic for you, Shining Armor,” Luna frowned, her expression one of concern, not anger.

“Your highness, it will not happen again,”

“What will not happen again? Something urgent is going on and I’m interested to know.”

“Please, your majesty, I can say no more.”

“I see,” said Luna “very well. Carry on.”

Luna turned and left, launching herself into the night sky toward the palace. Shining Armor would never defy her… not unless he was under pressure from somepony as powerful as she. Maybe Celestia could answer questions Shining Armor couldn’t.

***

“YOU DID WHAT?” Luna’s Royal Canterlot Voice shook Celestia’s apartments and provoked a small flurry of activity in the hall outside. Servants and guards stood by the door, ready to render assistance if needed.

“I did what I had to do to protect Twilight! You know how important she is!” Celestia drew herself up to her full height, trying to intimidate Luna with her posture as well as her tone.

“Yes, yes. Your whole superpony scheme. I’m sure it’s of world-shattering consequence who the Kwizats Haderach dates.”

“Kefitzat Haderech, and it might very well be! After your whole… breakdown…” said Celestia “I realized that power like ours needs checks and balances.”

“Are you going to throw that in my face for the rest of my life!?” cried Luna “I was hurt, I was angry! You were being a royal bitch! I said I was sorry!”

“And what if it’s not you next time? What if it’s me? What if I go insane? What if Discord escapes and addles my mind or what if the ennui of eons gets to be too much for me and I crack? I’ve seen it happen! Best friends I’ve known for centuries suddenly decide that mortal beings are no better than playthings! Being immortal can twist even the kindest, gentlest heart. It happened to you! It could happen to me! If I decided to drop the sun on Canterlot, who could stop me? Could you?”

Luna’s face streamed with tears.

“Why do you say such things!?”

“I’m trying to make you understand how important Twilight is! She’s the next step. The world needs to learn to live without gods.”

“So what does this have to do with who she dates?”

“Being the Kefitzat Haderech isn’t just being genetically perfect; it’s a state of mind. Her first romance cannot be a disaster, it could twist her entire perspective! Centuries of work, wasted!”

“Everypony’s first romance is a disaster, that’s how things are, she needs to learn such things for herself.”

“Not with Blueblood,” Celestia’s face was stern “Not with Blueblood.”

“So, what are you going to do with him?”

“I’m going to make sure he can never harm anypony ever again. I’m going to send him away.”

Luna’s eyes widened.

“No!” she sobbed “No! No! You’re going to send him someplace where he’ll be all alone!”

“Luna-”

“No! All you ever do is think about yourself!”

Luna shouted and stomped, cracking the marble beneath her feet and sending the servants outside into a panic.

“Luna, stop this at once!”

Celestia was getting angry. She was going to send Blueblood to the moon! She was going to send her back! Back to the dark and the cold and alone!

“NOPONY SHOULD BE ALONE!” Luna screamed.

Celestia flared her wings. She had to stop Luna’s tantrum before she did something they’d both regret. Protecting Twilight was important, but her sister’s love was even more important. She couldn’t endure another rift like before.

Luna reared up on her hind legs. She stomped and flailed. Celestia reared up to match her. The sisters clashed in a tangle of hooves and horns. Luna’s glittering tiara was knocked from her head and clattered to the floor. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks onto Celestia’s coat.

“Don’t make him be alone,” she sobbed.

“Luna! Luna, you win!” Celestia put her hoof around Luna’s trembling shoulders “I won’t banish him! You’re right! I was only thinking of myself!”

Luna fell, shuddering, to the ground. Celestia lay down next to her.

“Your guards must be over Ponyville right now. Go, stop them,” said Celestia.

“Really?” Luna looked up, sniffing.

“Yes, hurry!”

Luna stood, sniffed back the rest of her tears and flared her wings. Her horn crackled with magical energy. She pictured herself standing in a transparent cube, focusing the image in her mind. She took the cube, and cubed it, simultaneously performing the same action with the magic of her horn on the spacetime around her. She vanished in an implosion of unlight, leaving a fading scar in the air like a flaw in a pane of glass.

Celestia stood. She lingered for a few seconds before vanishing as well. She had to tell Shining Armor there would be a change of plan…

***

The cogs of the Canterlot Clock Tower rumbled and churned as they ticked off the seconds.

All the universe was rhythm. The rhythm of the spheres, the rhythm of the tides, of the seasons, of breaths, of love and life and death and music and poetry.

Cadence had always been fascinated by the interplay of these rhythms.

When she was a filly, poetry and songs captivated her. She loved to compose symphonies and sonatas, to experiment with new sounds and new music. She bought a metronome to help her keep time as she worked on new material. That metronome wasn’t good enough, so she designed and built a more precise one.

The clock she had didn’t keep good time, so she built a better one.

Inventing became a hobby of hers. Everything was rhythms. The rhythm of teeth, the rhythm of springs, of gears and sprockets and screws.

Inventing new songs, inventing new machines.

The blueprints for her first big invention hung in a frame on the wall of her workshop. A recoil-powered repeating rifle she dubbed the Maxim Gun.

The blueprints for her next big invention were spread across her workbench in various stages of completion. She was close to a breakthrough, so close she could taste it!

Above her, the gears and cogs of the clock tower ticked off the seconds.

Thoughts had rhythms, too. Love and lust and loneliness. She mastered the clumsy gears and cogs of clockwork toys and turned her attention to the far more intricate clockwork of the body and brain, the quiet, imperceptible churning of thoughts and emotions. Tug on this string, somepony becomes sad. Tug on this one, he becomes happy. Tug on this one, he falls in love.

The rhythm of love, the rhythm of happiness, of sadness and lust and anger.

Inventing new ideas, inventing new emotions.

She got her cutie mark: a crystal heart with gilded filigree. Everypony thought it was for her wondrous love spell, but it was broader than that. The heart is the first timekeeper, the first beat any creature ever moves to. The original metronome. Cadence was the mistress of all things rhythmic.

Cadence consulted the thick grimorie at her side, searching for spells that could help complete her invention. The letters in the grimorie danced and strained against the paper of the page as if they were alive. They pressed close to the surface, as if they could burst their bonds of pulp and ink and flutter off into the air like insects. Cadence cooed softly to them, singing gentle songs and soothing their excited squirming so that they would stay still and legible. She added a note here and there, which would sit idly for a moment before taking on a life of its own and scampering across the page.

“Honey, are you up here?” Shining Armor called up through the trapdoor of her workroom. The sound of his voice sent the letters of the grimorie into a panic and they scurried, roachlike, onto other pages where they couldn’t be seen.

Cadence sighed. Maybe it was time to take a break anyway.

“Yes, dear!” she answered.

Shining armor mounted the stairs and poked his head through the trapdoor. He smiled when he saw her. Even worn and frazzled from lack of sleep, she was still a vision of loveliness, an eternal fountainhead of beauty that would never fade. She smiled back.

“How’s the ewe boat coming?” he asked

“U-boat. The ‘U’ is for underwater,” she said “And it’s being a complete pain in the butt. I want to use my diesel engine as the propulsion system, but the exhaust would suffocate everypony inside within minutes, not to mention there’s no new air coming in to fuel the diesel combustion.”

“So, use magic to make it go.”

“I could do that, but I’m already using so much magic to keep the air fresh for the crew, I’m worried the ambient magic field would be depleted faster than it could replenish, and then nothing onboard would work…”

Shining Armor smiled “Well, maybe you just need to take a break and you’ll get a flash of inspiration once you’re rested.”

“Maybe…” she sighed “So what brings you all the way over here at this hour?”

“Nothing. I missed you,” he gave her a kiss on the cheek “The bed was cold without you.”

Cadence kissed him back, and for half a minute, the two locked tongues. Even a year and a half later, none of the fire in their marriage had cooled, and impromptu makeout sessions were still a regular occurrence.

“You know, it’s the day of the Springtime Frolic tomorrow,” said Shining Armor once their embrace slackened enough for him to talk.

“I do know. I’ve already had the gardener plant us a special flower bed,” she fluttered her eyelashes.

“I was thinking… How would you like to spend the Frolic in Ponyville instead?” asked Shining Armor “It would give us a chance to go and visit Twilight and her friends.”

Cadence raised an eyebrow “Why would you pick the Springtime Frolic to go visit your sister?”

“Well… That’s not the only reason we need to go…” The end of Part 20…

To be continued…

Chapter XXI

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XXI

Scootaloo shivered beneath the park bench and pulled her newspaper blanket tighter around her shoulders.The morning was chilly, though it promised to get warmer. As the sun peeked over the horizon, golden bands of sunlight illuminated the headline:

MILLIONAIRE HEIRESS

STILL MISSING!

Presumed dead.

Investigators call off search for missing filly.

Parents: aviator Howard Hooves and actress Sophia Sorrell in mourning.

She hadn’t bothered to read it. Newspapers made great blankets, but they never said anything interesting anymore. In an hour or two, she’d rise and graze for her breakfast. There was no school that day on account of the Springtime Frolic, so she could sleep as late as she wanted. Maybe later she’d stop by the treehouse and see what her friends were doing. Festivals were also a great time to score free food, and she’d be sitting pretty for a few days at least if she worked hard. It was shaping up to be a pretty good day.

The sudden thundering of hundreds of hooves shattered the peaceful morning and Scootaloo jolted awake. Everypony had gathered in the park for the opening ceremonies of the Springtime Frolic and Scootaloo found her bench caged on all sides by the shuffling hooves of excited ponies. She tore some strips out of her newspaper blanket and stuffed them in her ears to muffle the noise, but somepony jumped up on top of the bench and knocked dust through the slats onto Scootaloo’s nose. She sneezed and looked up just in time to get dust in her eyes as well.

“Ugh!” she groused.

It looked like sleeping in wasn’t going to be an option, so she gave up and decided to watch the ceremonies.

“Alright, watch out, comin’ through!” Scootaloo barked, startling several ponies as she wriggled between their legs. She managed to worm her way through the forest of legs to an open patch of grass, but still couldn’t see over the shoulders of the crowd.

“Aw, come on! Down in front!”

Scootaloo leaped and tried to fly above the crowd, but even buzzing her tiny wings as fast as she could, wasn’t able to stay aloft for more than a few seconds before flopping to the ground, exhausted. Somewhere at the front of the crowd, the Mayor was welcoming everypony to the Springtime Frolic and detailing a brief history of the festival.

“Scootaloo, over here!”

Scootaloo looked around, all she could see was the forest of candy-colored legs.

“Up here!”

Applebloom waved at her from atop Applejack’s head. Applejack pushed her way through the crowd.

“Well, howdy there, Scootaloo, you here alone?” asked Applejack with a look of concern.

“Uh… yeah, but it’s okay,” replied Scootaloo “I wish I could see what was going on, though…”

“Here ya go…” Applejack snatched Scootaloo up with her teeth and tossed her up onto her back next to Applebloom. They high-hoofed each other and stood up on their hind legs, balancing themselves against the top of Applejack’s head. Applejack grunted at the weight of two fillies standing on her back, but her grimace of pain melted into one of sisterly affection as Applebloom and Scootaloo chattered excitedly about the Festival.

From her new vantage point, Scootaloo could watch the opening ceremonies and enjoy the pageantry of the assembled throng.

The mayor beamed from her lectern beneath the gazebo as she spoke to the crowd.

“...and though I know it’s only a handful of scallywags that treat this festival as an excuse for lewd behavior, they’ve still managed to ruin it for the rest of us. Safety rules are to be strictly observed at all times. All frolicking is to take place within the chaperoned areas outlined on the maps. Remember, due to the limited number of volunteers, chaperones will only monitor these small areas and nothing beyond. Everypony wishing to enjoy an innocent roll in some nice flowerbeds is strictly cautioned to remain inside the approved areas, otherwise, the chaperones will be powerless to enforce the rules, and nopony wants that…” she winked.

It was the same old song and dance. Officially, no public displays of sexual behavior were sanctioned by the municipal government, and the object of the Frolic was simply to have fun and shake pollen into the air. Unofficially, the Mayor and the Chairpony of the City Council would be getting it on behind the bushes within fifteen minutes of the start of the festival.

Every year, the town announced that they were really, seriously going to start enforcing the rules for real this time, and every year they were astonished by how many ponies broke them in spite of the newly implemented policies. Still, the “safe” areas got bigger every year, and several ponies complained that the Frolic was starting to become tame. Of course, during the day, the Frolic was about fun, and the furthest most ponies went was making out and snuggling one another. The real fun didn’t start until after sunset anyway...

“… before we begin the festivities,” the mayor continued “it is my great honor to announce that two very special guests have decided to grace this year’s Springtime Frolic with their presence! I can think of no couple that embodies the Frolic’s celebration of life and fertility than the ponies whose love saved all of Equestria from the Changeling Incursion! Their service to Equestria and devotion to one another is an example to us all.

“Mares and gentlecolts, I present: Princess Cadence the Clever and Shining Armor, Duke of Zebrica!”

The Mayor stomped her hooves on the ground and withdrew from the lectern as Shining Armor and Cadence emerged from behind a curtain of daisies and approached the podium.

Shining Armor wore a gracious (albeit strained) smile. He’d hoped to just show up in Ponyville, celebrate the Frolic, have Cadence complete her mission and then vanish with little or no to-do, it was just bad luck that Mayor Mare happened to spy them checking into their bed and breakfast early that morning and decide to make a big deal out of their attendance.

Cadence did a better job of hiding her displeasure and waved elegantly to the crowd, but you could bet Shining Armor had been catching hell backstage, and would catch more later.

Shining Armor broadened his grin a little more than necessary as he approached the podium, betraying a slightly unsettling side of his resemblance to his sister, Twilight. He was greeted by enthusiastic applause and hooting. He paused before speaking, ostensibly to collect his thoughts, but actually scanning the crowd for Prince Blueblood or Twilight Sparkle. Trying to spot them in the sea of colors and costumes proved impossible, and Shining Armor had already been silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. The crowd began to murmur.

“Thank you everypony, for this excellent reception,” said Shining Armor, broadening his grin still further and stepping back from the podium, gesturing desperately for Cadence to say something. Cadence nodded and stepped forward to address the crowd. She silenced the applause with a wave of her hoof and cleared her throat with a melodious “ahm.”

“My husband and I are ecstatic to be here for this wondrous celebration of nature’s plenty. May all your days be bountiful and blessed,” Cadence stepped back and gave the floor to the mayor.

“Thank you, your highnesses, for your… concise words,” smiled Mayor Mare “and now, without further ado, let the springtime be merry and our frolics begun!”

The crowd cheered and stomped, their enthusiasm erupting into loud whoops and ecstatic whistling before slowly dispersing to enjoy the various festival activities. There was wine, music, dancing and singing, picnics and games. The park was alive and vibrant with the sounds of ponies laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Applejack had volunteered to be a chaperone that year (as she had every year) and she carried Scootaloo and Applebloom over to the play area where they quickly tumbled off her back and scampered to join the other foals in their completely innocent enjoyment of the festival’s fun and games.

***

Twilight stood with Big Mac during the speech. She wore a crown of Red Gerbera daisies on her head that Big Mac had picked himself and woven into a band as an exercise in fine magical control. It was a little lopsided but, on Twilight, it looked beautiful.

They’d ignored most of the opening speeches, too focused on each other to pay much attention to anything else, but when the mayor announced Cadence and Shining Armor, Twilight’s hackles shot up and she blushed a deep red beneath the fine purple hairs on her face. She immediately distanced herself from Big Macintosh, moving away any time he tried to close the gap.

“What’s wrong, Twilight?” he asked.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect my brother to be here. I haven’t told him about us yet…”

We’re an “us” now! thought Big Mac, excitedly.

“…and I was really hoping for the right time. Ugh! I just wish he’d told me he was planning to come down!” huffed Twilight.

Big Mac nuzzled her neck, giving in to his impulse to comfort her. She squirmed and grimaced.

“Blueblood! I told you, not right now! I’m trying to-”

A purple sphere materialized out of the air and enveloped Big Macintosh, cutting Twilight’s objections short. Big Mac struggled against his spherical prison, but found it to be impenetrable.

“Oh fer…” grumbled Twilight.

“Is everything alright, Twilie?” asked Shining Armor, talking to her, but glaring icicles at Big Macintosh. The crowd parted to let him through, Cadence followed close behind.

“Everything’s fine, Shining Armor,” sighed Twilight “Hello Cadence, good to see you…”

“I hope my cousin wasn’t bothering you,” said Cadence, casting a stern glance at Big Mac. Big Mac snorted.

Blueblood’s reputation screws me once again.

“Everything’s fine, Cadence,” said Twilight. She turned to her brother “You can let him out now. I don’t need you to protect me from him.”

That wasn’t what it looked like to Shining Armor, but he relented. The sphere melted into thin air and Big Mac dropped unceremoniously to earth. Big Mac picked himself up and Twilight absent-mindedly dusted him off, a gesture of care that Shining Armor found disturbing. It didn’t escape Cadence’s notice either.

“I’m surprised to see you here, cousin,” she said.

Big Mac wasn’t sure how she meant that, so he just nodded his greeting to her, she seemed to find his response acceptable, and said no more.

“Did either of you bring Frolic Partners?” asked Shining Armor, offering them a chance to deny their relationship and let everypony go their separate ways without further trouble. Twilight knew exactly what he was doing and didn’t take the easy out. Instead, she snuggled up to Big Mac and fixed her brother with a defiant glower.

“Actually, Prince Blueblood and I are here together,” she said.

Shining Armor’s expression darkened.

“I see. Prince Blueblood, if you would excuse us a moment, I’d like to speak to my sister alone,” he said.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t need-”

“Twilight,” interrupted Big Mac “It’s alright. You should hear what your brother has to say, he came all the way down here after all…”

“Thank you your highness,” said Shining Armor, a little startled that Blueblood could be so reasonable.

He took Twilight to one side, leaving Big Mac and Cadence together in awkward silence. Big Mac pawed lightly at the ground and feigned interest in a nearby songbird. Cadence just watched Shining Armor and Twilight until they were well out of sight.

Once they were gone, Big Mac turned back to Cadence, hoping to make some small talk and ease the awkwardness of the situation, but found her already staring at him intently.

“Um, Princess Cadence?” he began, but that intense stare of hers bored into his thoughts and left him feeling woozy. His vision swam and he wobbled on unsteady legs before blacking out.

***

A ways away, Twilight bickered with her big brother.

“Look, I appreciate that you care about me, but you’re being overprotective! I’m not in any danger from Prince Blueblood!” Twilight stomped.

“Twilight, you’re obviously too close to the situation. When our situations were reversed, and you knew I was with somepony who was wrong for me, you didn’t give up, even when I acted like a total jerk to you. I’m just trying to return the favor. Blueblood is wrong for you!”

“He’s not wrong for me; he’s the first pony I’ve ever trusted enough to date like this!”

Shining Armor sighed.

“You were probably too young to remember how Blueblood acted when he was at school, but he was only two years ahead of me. Aside from being big, brash and dumb, he cheated on every girlfriend he ever had and, if the rumors are correct, he hasn’t changed much since graduating to a life of idleness and frivolity!”

“I remember more than you think. For instance, I remember you used to hang out with him, and you thought he was ‘cool’ and I remember your first mare-friend was one of his sloppy-seconds! I didn’t hear you complaining then!”

Shining Armor huffed, stung by her hostility. He’d forgotten all about Melody and the sudden flood of embarrassing memories caught him off guard.

“Twilight, every adolescent pony goes through an awkward phase they regret later. I’ve grown up since then. Matured. Blueblood hasn’t,” he sighed.

“You have grown up since then but, so has Blueblood. More than you give him credit. He’s changed, Shining Armor, and he’s special to me…”

“Maybe you’re right, Twilight. If you’re wrong, I just hope you find out before he breaks your heart. I’d do anything to spare you that kind of pain,” Shining Armor nuzzled her on top of her head, knocking her crown askew.

“I’ll be alright, BBBFF,” said Twilight. She sniffed back a small tear and Shining Armor kissed her on the forehead.

“I’ll be around if, and when, you need me,” said Shining Armor. She followed him back to Cadence and Big Mac. Cadence sat on the ground, enraptured by a small spider in the grass. She idly contemplated the engineering challenges of constructing one eighty feet high. Big Mac stood nearby, looking dazed and swaying slightly on his hooves.

Big Mac shook himself back to his senses as Twilight approached. The sight of her cleared his head and made him smile. She was so beautif… woah, who is that?

A buttery yellow mare skipped by behind Twilight. Big Mac couldn’t look away. There was something… enchanting about the way she moved, the way she flipped her mane. Big Mac felt a heat and tightness in his crotch that slowly spread to suffuse his body. He whinnied under his breath.

“Blueblood, are you okay?” Twilight asked, looking around to see what he was staring at.

Big Macintosh blinked and looked down at her, his mind taking a split second to recognize the purple filly standing in front of him.

“Eeyup. I’m fine,” he said. He nuzzled Twilight and her look of concern eased into one of contentment.

Shining Armor and Cadence lingered for a moment, watching him. When they saw him watching back, they quickly took off, vanishing down the path toward the refreshment tent.

***

Fluttershy hid her face behind a large pair of sunglasses and a broad sunhat. She wrapped her mane up in a paisley balaclava and wore a sundress that obscured her cutie mark. She still felt too conspicuous.

Why why why couldn’t she have just said “no” to Rainbow Dash when she asked her yesterday? She wanted to say no when Rainbow Dash came to pick her up for the Frolic, but she’d looked so happy! Fluttershy mumbled a few halfhearted excuses, but couldn’t mount any forceful objection. She knew rejecting Rainbow Dash would hurt her feelings and possibly damage their friendship. She loved Rainbow Dash (even if it wasn’t that way) and couldn’t bear to end their relationship over something as silly as a misunderstanding like this… There had to be a way to let her down easy!

So she went to the Frolic with her and, in spite of the extreme awkwardness of the situation, had to admit that if she were interested in Rainbow Dash that way, this would actually be a pretty nice date.

Thanks to the cumulative hints of several weeks by her friends (particularly on the part of the fashion conscious Rarity) Rainbow Dash wasn’t quite so over the top, stereotypically lesbian as she was when she first flew out of the closet. The only vestige of her flamboyant early experimentations with a new look was her silver ear stud and a small tattoo of intertwined “female” symbols on the inside of her right stifle where the hair was fine enough for it to be visible.

Today, she wore her hair in a bright pompadour that swept back from her forehead, creating the impression of motion even as she stood still. The sun caught the prismatic tips of her multicolored mane and she cast a glittering, dancing little swarm of lights on the ground wherever she went. Her tail was thoroughly brushed, its split ends trimmed and the whole thing thoroughly shampooed so that it gleamed like jellied light instead of hair. In a gesture that was nearly as heartbreaking to Fluttershy as it was touching, Rainbow Dash had even submitted to the humiliating torture of a hooficure, just so that she could look her best for her.

Rainbow Dash would never admit to looking pretty, nor cute, and even “beautiful” made her skin crawl a little, but today she was all of those things. Fluttershy desperately wished she could be gay, just for a little while, because it obviously meant so much to her friend. She wished as hard as she could but, try as she might, it was no use.

Instead, she made any excuse she could to stay inside the chaperoned areas, where at least Rainbow Dash couldn’t act on her misconceptions in any way Fluttershy couldn’t handle. Mostly. Rainbow Dash brushed too close to her when she brought back some fudgecicles from the dessert stand. When they laid together on Rainbow’s Wonderbolts beach blanket, her tail kept tickling Fluttershy in nearly inappropriate areas, supposedly “by accident.” And of course Rainbow Dash waged a constant campaign to get Fluttershy to sneak off with her to the unsupervised areas. Fluttershy, at least on this point, stood firm, and the pair spent an increasingly frustrating day in the middle of the broad park amidst the foals too young to appreciate the full experience of the Springtime Frolic, and the adults too shy, too square, or just plain uninterested to have anything but a “Y” rated good time.

“Come on Fluttershy, just to the top of that ridge, what about there? I bet the view is amazing!” urged Rainbow Dash for the bajillionth time.

Fluttershy, who’d made a careful study of the boundaries of the chaperoned areas, knew it lay outside the safe zone, and played the shy card for everything it was worth (she wasn’t above exaggerating her social anxiety for personal gain).

“Ohhh, I don’t know,” she whispered “Everypony would see us go up there. Why don’t we just stay here and enjoy our drinks?”

“Well, can I at least get you anything besides a juicebox? What about some wine? Try some of mine, it’s really good!”

“Oh dear… no thank you. Wine reminds me of wine tasting, which is a social function, and you know how nervous those make me…”

“Come on! Just a sip!” she pleaded.

“Please Rainbow, I don’t want…”

“Just a sip!” she pushed the paper cup of wine in Fluttershy’s face and Fluttershy jerked away, spilling the cup with her hoof as she did so.

“Aw, c’mon!” Rainbow threw up her hooves in frustration.

“Sorry,” murmured Fluttershy.

Rainbow heaved a deep breath.

“It’s okay. My fault really. I’ll go get some more,” she took off into the air “You sure you don’t want any?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” answered Fluttershy.

Rainbow Dash flew off without another word.

***

Rainbow Dash bumped into Applejack at the refreshment tent.

“Oh, hey Applejack,” greeted Rainbow Dash, despondent. Her shoulders drooped and her painstakingly styled mane sagged limply around her ears “how’re you doing?”

“Hey, sugarcube, why the long face?”

Rainbow sighed.

“No reason.”

“Ah huh,” Applejack grunted. She didn’t press the matter. Rainbow Dash would open up when she was good and ready.

“So, did anypony ask you to be Frolic Partners?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Nope. Ah wouldn’t say ‘no’ t’ the right pony, though.”

“That’s cool. I’m here with Fluttershy!” Some of the brashness returned to her voice and she fluffed her wings.

Applejack whistled.

“Well, that’s great, Rainbow! How’d you wrangle that?”

“Oh, you know. Just my good looks and natural charisma I guess,” Rainbow preened.

“Well, gol-ly. So she’s goin’ fer it, huh?” Applejack nudged Rainbow Dash with her elbow.

“You know it!” she answered, a little less convincingly.

“Oh yeah? Sounds like things are really workin’ out then!” Applejack beamed “Ah’m happy fer ya!”

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to brag some more, but the energy went out of her and she deflated like a sad balloon.

“Actually, it’s not going that great…”

“Oh no?” Applejack cocked her head.

“No… I got Fluttershy to be Frolic Partners with me, but all she’s interested in doing is hanging out here in the kids’ section!” Rainbow gestured to the multitude of foals that tumbled and rolled in the flowerbeds around them.

“Well, that’s what the Frolic’s all about, right? Havin’ fun?”

Rainbow Dash eyed Applejack as if she were simple.

“You know there’s other stuff, right?”

Applejack smirked.

“Ah know it. This ain’t mah first time to the rodeo, y’know.”

“So why’d Fluttershy agree to come with me if she didn’t want to do it!?”

Applejack laughed and put her foreleg around Rainbow Dash’s shoulder.

“Sugarcube, Ah hate to break it to ya, but you may be barkin’ up the wrong tree when it comes to Fluttershy…”

“Whuh?”

“You know. Maybe she only wanted to come with you as a friend.”

“Nopony is Frolic Partners with somepony to hang out and be ‘just friends’ and what’s that got to do with trees?”

Applejack adjusted her hat and sat down.

“Well, let’s talk about trees. Fluttershy’s a delicate little thing, like a willow tree. She’s very strong, but her natural response to stress is to bend with the wind. She’ll bend a long way, too, but only so far before she snaps back at ya. So here comes a big blowhard like yerself, and what’s she gonna do?”

“Bend over?”

Applejack burst out laughing, but quickly regained herself.

“Not exactly… She’ll go along with yer plans because she doesn’t want t’ hurt your feelins, but she’ll only go so far. Maybe when it comes to th’ ‘other stuff,’ she just don’t bend that way. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“…I think so…” Rainbow Dash thought hard, the long neglected gears of her mind creaking with effort.

“Now, an Apple tree on the other hoof-”

“GoodtalkApplejackgottajet!” Rainbow Dash blasted off in a rainbow-colored streak of light.

Applejack watched her go, clucking her tongue.

“Well, shoot,” she mumbled, kicking at a dirt clod.

“Applejack, come play mud pies with us!” called Applebloom.

Applejack kicked up her heels and leaped into the mud with a whoop and holler that sent the little foals into peals of delighted laughter.

***

Bluebood wasn’t having a fun Frolic. He couldn’t find Eulalie anywhere. Of all the days she would disappear, why’d she pick today? Actually, he hadn’t been able to find her all week. He labored under the tacit assumption that they would be Frolic Partners, but never got the chance to formally ask her or arrange plans. He even stopped by the shop late last night, hoping to find her, but the doors were barred and the curtains drawn. There was no light coming from her apartment above the shop. Did she decide to take a trip out of town without telling him?

He searched the whole park for her. All the chaperoned areas, the meadow, the edge of the lake, every romantic hidey-hole he could think of and a few more he stumbled upon by accident. All he found were grouchy lovers that didn’t take kindly to his intrusions. In a move that would have shocked and disgusted the Blueblood of just a few weeks ago, he even turned down the drunken advances of several fillies, opting instead to continue his search, expanding now beyond the park and into the rest of Ponyville.

“Eulalie!” he called, wandering a small, wooded area on the edge of the park “Eulalie!”

“Polo!”

Blueblood started and whipped his head around to see who responded, coming nose to nose with Pinkie Pie.

“Hey, Big Macintosh!” she grinned.

“Oh, hello… Pink… Pinkerella?”

Pinkie giggled.

“It’s Pinkie, silly! Right, Tombs?”

Tombs emerged from a nearby bush looking dapper as ever. The dust and leaves of the forest seemed to ignore him completely.

“Just as you say, ma’m,” he answered.

“Oh, Tombs, just the pony I was looking for,” smiled Blueblood, relieved. If anypony could help him, it was Tombs.

Pinkie’s eyes shot wide open.

“Tombs’s name is Eulalie, too?”

“What?” Blueblood blinked “No… I mean, I am trying to find Eulalie, but…”

“But you said Tombs was the pony you were looking for.”

“Well, yes… um… I meant that…” Blueblood’s head was spinning.

Tombs cleared his throat.

“I understand, sir. How can I assist?”

“Well, you can start by telling me if you’ve seen Eulalie lately.”

“Regrettably, sir. I have not encountered miss Eulalie today. I will make inquiries, however, and endeavor to ascertain her location as swiftly as possible.”

“Thanks. I’m at my wits’ end trying to find her,” said Blueblood.

“I saw her this morning!” interjected Pinkie Pie.

Blueblood and Tombs both turned to look at her.

“Ah huh,” she beamed “She was buying some chocolate covered strawberries!”

“So she’s in town?”

“I hope so, they’d melt if she took them on a long trip,” she answered, looking worried.

“I guess I’ll keep searching, then. If you see her, do let her know I’m looking for her,” said Blueblood.

“Very good, sir,” Tombs bowed.

“Okie dokie, Lokie!” Pinkie grinned and did a little dance.

“Oh, and Tombs,” said Blueblood.

“Sir?”

“You have some whipped cream behind your ear…”

Tombs coughed and pretended not to hear. Pinkie giggled and licked it off.

***

Big Mac took Twilight over to the refreshment tent, which was doing a brisk business in wine and snacks. There was stronger stuff at other tents, but they charged a leg and another leg for cheap liquor and watery beer. Wine was the traditional drink of the Frolic, and there was plenty for everypony.

Big Macintosh stood in line for Twilight while she rested in the shade and enjoyed the spectacle going on around them. He got to the front and looked down to address the mare behind the counter.

“What can I get for you?” asked the small, glittery eyed unicorn running the till. She had dainty, succulent hooves and a silky black mane that looked spicier than licorice. She sucked idly on a corndog while she waited for him to place his order, running her tongue up and down its slippery surface and sliding it across her full, hungry lips…

Big Mac felt that heat in his crotch again and he found himself speaking, almost against his will.

“Something hot and tempting…” he winked. He felt charming and invincible. The black licorice filly tittered and took an especially long and unnecessary slurp on her corndog, enveloping it in her mouth up to the stick.

“What’s taking so long?” Twilight stood at his shoulder, frowning at the flirtatious display.

Big Macintosh’s head was swimming again. He took a few deep breaths to clear the haze and looked back at the black licorice filly. There was no hungry look, and no corndog. She tapped her hoof impatiently while the line behind him began to murmur and grumble.

Big Mac got two cups of wine and trotted away from the refreshment stand as briskly as he could. He looked back over his shoulder. The black licorice mare winked at him and licked her lips. He shook his head and went back to Twilight.

***

“Come on, Fluttershy!” Rainbow Dash urged, “It’s inside the chaperoned areas, you’ll love it!”

Fluttershy, reluctantly, flew along with her to the edge of the lake. Rainbow alighted beneath the sagging boughs of a large weeping willow. Its curtain like strands of leaves hung so low as to nearly touch the ground, and were thick enough to provide some semblance of privacy from the world outside. There were several couples enjoying the coolness and shade of the willow’s broad canopy and why not? It was one of the most romantic spots in the whole park. This must have been what Applejack was talking about. She’d have to thank her friend later for the excellent tip.

Rainbow Dash laid out her blanket and settled down to the cool earth, patting the ground next to her in invitation. Fluttershy sat down on the blanket, careful to stay just outside the range of Rainbow’s groping tail.

The sounds of smooching were audible through the thick curtains of leaves, to Fluttershy, they seemed as loud as gunshots. Even if this was within the “safe” area, it was obvious the chaperones were busy elsewhere.

“So, isn’t this cool?” Rainbow Dash grinned.

“It’s nice…”

“Do you want another juicebox?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

They sat in silence. Rainbow Dash scooched closer. Fluttershy flinched, but stayed where she was. Rainbow scooched in again, and again, and again. Fluttershy tried to ignore her, but Rainbow was now close enough that she could feel her breath on her ears and the wind from her fluttering wings.

“So, Fluttershy…” breathed Rainbow Dash. She moistened her lips.

Fluttershy let out a small “peep.”

Rainbow Dash inhaled softly. Next to Fluttershy’s ear, it sounded like a hurricane.

“What do you want to do now?” Rainbow reached up, and gently eased Fluttershy’s sunhat back until it tipped and fell to the grass.

“Uh, well…”

“Uh huh…” Rainbow loosed Fluttershy’s hair from her balaclava. It tumbled down like a waterfall of pink lemonade. Silky and smooth, it smelled as sweet as a summer rain.

“Rainbow Dash…”

“Fluttershy…” Rainbow moved in closer. Fluttershy found she was paralyzed with fear.

She only bend so far… The snapping point.

Rainbow reached up and slid Fluttershy’s glasses up and off.

She stopped.

Fluttershy’s eyes were so wide. Their pupils narrowed down to pinpoints. They brimmed with tears. Fluttershy blinked and sent one, just one, tumbling down her cheek. She trembled like a leaf.

The snapping point, the snapping point!

If she kisses me, I’ll hit her with the Stare, thought Fluttershy, desperately.

But Rainbow didn’t kiss her.

She took a step back. Fluttershy’s trembling eased, but Rainbow could practically hear her little heart thundering in her chest.

“Oh…” said Rainbow Dash.

Since realizing the truth about herself, she’d unconsciously come to the conclusion that everypony was gay, or at least that their sexual preferences were optional. After all, if somepony as awesome as her could make a mistake like that, what chance did lesser ponies have? She was so certain of her heterosexuality; she was willing to fight, nay, to kill anypony that challenged the idea. She saw now that what everypony took to be certainty could be as fragile as a pane of glass. Now that she was at one with herself, she was much happier, much stronger than she had been. The anger, the raging tempest inside her that compelled her to lash out was calm now. Didn’t everypony want to feel that way?

She’d had a crush on Fluttershy for as long as she could remember, and Fluttershy always hung around, wasn’t it natural to assume her feelings were reciprocated somehow? Didn’t Fluttershy owe her?

She felt the tempest boiling up inside her.

Look at Fluttershy.

Such a delicate, fair thing. A weeping willow. So pure. She looked like a saint. Her pink mane wreathed her face like a nun’s habit.

So innocent.

So fake!

Fluttershy was a dirty girl!

Rainbow Dash wasn’t blind, she wasn’t stupid. She saw Fluttershy through the window with all her magazines, and hadn’t she admitted herself that she’d been “abusing her no-no place?”

She wanted it.

Rainbow was the pony to give it to her! Rainbow would bring it and Fluttershy would bend over…

The sensible part of Rainbow, the one that had been growing in strength since breaking out that day when she beat up Tombs, spoke up, loud and proud.

Maybe Fluttershy does want it. But not from you.

Of course she does!

No.

Look at her!

No means NO.

But, but… what am I supposed to do, then?

Be her friend.

…

Oh.

Fluttershy watched the internal struggle as it waged its war across Rainbow Dash’s expressions. She sat there, petrified.

Rainbow Dash’s expression turned murderous, terrifying. Predatory. Fluttershy nearly fainted, but the terrifying expression melted away, replaced by one of calm serenity.

Rainbow Dash spoke.

“Hey Flutters…”

“Yeah?” she trembled.

“Forget being Frolic Partners. It was a dumb idea. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

The dam burst and Fluttershy sobbed fat tears of relief into her pink lemonade mane.

***

Big Mac and Twilight were outside the chaperoned areas now. They wandered through a sun dappled glade, and Twilight pointed out the different types of flora and fauna, reciting their Pegasillyc names as they passed. Big Macintosh listened quietly, trying to keep all the new names straight in his head. Having worked the earth his entire life, he knew a thing or two about plants, and could probably identify every one in the forest, but the names Twilight knew, names like Toxicodendron radicans and Bellis perennis made the whole glade seem like some kind of exotic wonderland.

They found a sunny patch and sat down to catch their breath and sip from Twilight’s Nieghgene bottle.

“It’s important to stay hydrated,” she observed. They shared the bottle without thought of germs. After all, weren’t they going to kiss soon?

Twilight leaned her head in to cuddle the ropy muscles of his neck and the tip of her horn scratched the bottom of his chin.

Teheheheehe!

Big Mac’s ear perked up.

“Did you just giggle?” he asked.

“No,” she snickered a little, but no giggle.

“Huh…”

Teheheheheehehee!

“You don’t hear that?”

Twilight sat up, her ears flitting back and forth to scan the forest around her.

“Hear what?”

Big Macintosh strained, but couldn’t hear anything now.

“Nothing, I guess…”

Something tugged at him.

“Maybe we should get back to the park, it’s almost dark. They’ll be starting the Night Romp soon…” he said.

“Aww, but it’s so nice here. I kinda want to stay a little longer,” she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Big Macintosh was feeling dizzy again.

“We should head back…” he said, standing up.

“Why? Where are you in such a hurry to go?”

“Nowhere… It’s just…” something was tugging at him, harder than before. Whatever it was had its hooks in his sensitive places. Resisting the sensation hurt. Giving in felt good. Very good.

Without another word to Twilight, he got up and wandered back in the direction of the park. Twilight frowned and followed.

***

Sunset transformed the park into a fairyland of lights and music. Strings of many colored lanterns stretched between the trees, giving the night an otherworldly, dreamlike quality. Clouds of bugs collected around the lights and treated the lovers beneath to a buzzing serenade.

The Night Romp was about to begin.

For the foals, this meant a hayride that took them on a winding trail far from the adults. Of course, because there were so many foals to watch, it meant all the chaperones had to go, too.

For everypony else, especially those that waited all day for the romantic night of lanterns and singing, this was when the real fun of the Springtime Frolic began. All the flowers had closed up and gone to sleep for the night, and all the restless energy that was building all day could finally escape in force, unchecked by chaperones or shyness.

The Frolic’s ancient roots weren’t just a tool to spread pollen and germinate new seeds. In ancient times, long ago, back before Equestria, before The Blizzard and the Exodus, before conscious memory, when ponies were beasts, the Springtime Frolic (though it had no name then) was the time to start new families. Expecting mothers would carry their children through the seasons. Through bountiful summer, headstrong fall and harsh winter so that they could give birth when the air was warm and the fields were clear for grazing the next spring. A pony has an average gestational period of eleven months and timing was important if there was to be food for all the newborns of the next year.

Even hundreds of millennia later, the bodies remember what the minds forgot, and springtime always felt like the right time to get frisky.

Blueblood was definitely feeling it, but he hadn’t found Eulalie yet. The night deepened and the impassioned moans of a dozen couples rose from the bushes around him. It was maddening! Where could she be? He half expected her to pop out at any moment with her box of chocolate strawberries for him, but no matter where he went, there she wasn’t.

***

Big Macintosh wandered in a daze. He’d become separated from Twilight somewhere along the line, and now he was just following the pretty lights and the tugging of his crotch. Every time a mare passed close by, the tugging would intensify and lead him off in a new direction. It wasn’t coming from any one mare, but any of them and all of them.

He wandered in circles for what felt like hours before stumbling into a small clearing strung with lanterns of red and gold. There was a mare standing there. She had a long mane of rich carmine-red that tumbled down over her shoulders like an avalanche of bloody snow. Her coat was the color of pale lilacs after the kiss of virgin lips.

The tugging was a constant pull, now. He felt like iron in the thrall of a magnet. Helpless, he stepped forward, snapping a branch beneath his hoof as he did so.

She turned at the sound of his approach and smiled.

“My, but what stallion through my clearing breaks?” she asked.

“I am Prince Blueblood,” answered Big Macintosh, forgetting himself in her eyes “What’s your name?”

“Eulalie,” she cooed in a voice like the ringing of a silver bell “You seem to have lost your Frolic Partner.”

“You seem to have lost yours,” he said.

“We should find new ones.”

“Eeyup...”The end of Part 21…

To be Continued…

Chapter XXII

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XXII

Big Macintosh romped through a garden of earthly delights, a perfumed glade wreathed in mist and mystery. He couldn’t remember how he got there… or even anything, but the garden was so lush and beautiful he didn’t care.

A cloud of lilac butterflies fluttered down from the trees and kissed him all over with their tiny, fluttering wings. They kissed his face, his neck, his belly and lower regions, tickling him all over until he was flushed with heat and energy. He rolled in the fragrant grass and lapped sticky sweet dew from a large Arum lily until it quivered with strange spasms and the wind rustled through the trees with a husky moan. He noticed a pool of crystal water on the edge of the glade and leaped in without a second thought. The water was warm and cool at the same time. It buoyed him and caressed his body like a lover…

“I thought I heard somepony over here…”

Big Mac looked around, but there was nopony, just the shifting mist. Who said that? The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I think it’s this clearing…” a different voice. Closer. Male.

Two ponies emerged from the mist at the end of the clearing. One was pink, the other, white. Who were they again?

***

Its purpose fulfilled, Cadence retrieved her spell. An invisible worm of many whipping tendrils and barbs wriggled out of Big Mac’s ear. She dissolved it back into the ether.

***

Big Mac’s awareness returned with the speed and ease of flicking a switch. The fantasy garden vanished. Princess Cadence and Shining Armor watched him from the edge of the clearing. The pond was gone, he was on dry land, but he still felt strangely warm. He looked down.

“Don’t stop,” Eulalie smiled up at him “I don’t care if they watch.”

She lay on her back, her muzzle pressed to his, his rigid passion sandwiched between their warm bellies. Throbbing, uncomfortable, faintly painful.

“W-what’s going on?” he asked, too stunned and disoriented to move. Nopony acknowledged him.

“Shining Armor, did you find him?”

Twilight’s voice!

“You don’t need to see this, Twilight,” Shining Armor turned to block her view of the torrid tableau. She pushed past him into the clearing.

Twilight froze.

“Blueblood?”

Her mouth gaped, she searched the scene, eyes darting, desperate for any sign, any hint that this was some kind of mistake, that this wasn’t what it looked like.

“Blueblood, what’re you doing?” she asked, her breath short.

Big Macintosh couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was going on. Something about a garden and... butterflies… and… and… It was all so fuzzy. He last thing he remembered for sure was this mare… who’d somehow ended up beneath him.

“I’m…” he fumbled for words.

“I told you, Twilight, you shouldn’t look,” Shining Armor put his hoof on her shoulder.

“No!” she knocked his hoof away “I needed to see this, because otherwise I wouldn’t have believed it!”

“Twilight!” Big Mac finally regained enough of his wherewithal to untangle himself from Eulalie, who squeaked and grumbled.

If anything, extricating himself made things worse, as now there was nothing between the audience and his obvious arousal. Cadance averted her eyes and covered her face with her wing. Shining Armor looked away as well. Twilight didn’t break eye contact for a second.

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends!” she barked “You’re disgusting!”

“This isn’t…”

“What it looks like?” she laughed “Really? Because it looks like you with your… your… phallus pressed up against some whore!”

“Hey!” Eulalie objected.

Bad move. As easily as thinking, Twilight slapped her with a Silence spell. Eulalie’s lips snapped together as if held by a zipper. She kicked at her mouth with her hooves, but couldn’t separate them. She screamed uselessly against her sealed lips and whimpered through her nose. Her eyes welled up with tears.

“I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what?” Twilight advanced on him “Didn’t know I’d find out you’d been playing me for weeks while you were fooling around behind my back?”

“No-”

“I guess I deserve it, though. I should’ve listened to my head instead of my heart. You never cared for me, you were just after… this!” she wiggled her flank.

“That’s not true! Twilight, I-I love you!” Big Mac Blurted. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. Her face softened for the briefest second before twisting again. Her rage redoubled.

“No!” She shouted at him “No! You do not get to say that! Not after I’ve caught you with another mare! You don’t get to say it ever!”

She was panting now. Her horn sparked and crackled with pent-up energy.

“Twi-”

“No!” she screamed.

Purple light exploded from her horn. Luckily for Big Macintosh, Shining Armor’s wits were sharp and his reflexes were fast. He threw up a magical barrier just in time to catch Twilight’s spell. The deadly bolt ricocheted off the force field and up into the sky where it exploded with a deafening thunderclap.

Twilight collapsed to her knees, blubbering like a foal. Princess Cadence sidled up and extended a wing to comfort her. Twilight only whimpered and pushed it away.

“It’s better you find out now, rather than-” started Shining Armor.

“Shut up! I don’t need to hear it!” Twilight sobbed. She staggered to her feet and galloped off into the woods. Shining Armor took off after her.

Eulalie was in the early stages of a panic attack, her nostrils flared and her eyes rolled in her head. She attacked Twilight’s spell with her own magic, but she wasn’t powerful enough or clever enough to free herself. She cried more and louder until she collapsed from hyperventilation.

Cadence rolled her eyes and severed Twilight’s spell with a snort of disgust. Eulalie’s mouth popped open and she gasped for air like a drowning sailor, choking it down in huge, desperate gulps.

“Princess, what’s going on here?” Big Mac demanded.

“You’ve done a terrible thing, cousin Blueblood,” Cadence shook her head “If I were in your position, I’d pack up and return to Canterlot while I still had a shred of dignity.”

“But, what did I do?” asked Big Mac.

Cadence took off into the air without answering.

Eulalie started to cry again and Big Macintosh walked over to comfort her.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know! That purple one almost killed me! Did you see? I could have…” she choked back another sob.

Big Macintosh was wary of her, but from the looks of things she was just as lost as he was in all this, and he could sympathize with her distress. He patted her back with his hoof.

“Oh, Blueblood,” she whimpered “you’re such a gentlecolt.”

Then she kissed him.

***

Prince Blueblood saw the explosion of Twilight’s spell, and found his way to the clearing at the exact wrong moment.

Eulalie was there. So was Big Macintosh.

They were kissing.

“Eulalie!” he exclaimed.

Eulalie unlatched from Big Macintosh’s face. Big Mac took a few startled steps backward, tripping over his own hind hooves and landing his butt on the grass. Blueblood stomped into the clearing.

“Big Macintosh!” she squeaked.

“Yes… him,” said Blueblood “Now I see why you were so hard to find.”

Eulalie couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“Me, too,” growled Blueblood “So, what then? Which one of us are you doing on the side? Him or me?”

“…him…”

“Why?”

“I’m not going to do this right now,” she shivered and turned to leave.

“No! No! You are going to do this right now!” he marched up and overtook her before she could walk away. He blocked her path like a brick wall. She tried to move around him and he moved to match her.

“Big Macintosh, I can’t believe you’re acting like this!” she huffed.

“Like what?” he glared down at her.

“Like those stupid jealous fillies that think a friendly roll in the hay is a damned marriage proposal! I thought you were bigger than that!”

“I am bigger… I mean… but I’m not…” he stuttered.

“I thought you were, but you’re just the same as them. You think I don’t know the signs? All the little gifts? The romantic gestures? Did you think we were a couple?”

“I…”

“I was having fun, you were having fun, what’s wrong with that? Why does it have to be some huge thing? Why does everything have to ‘go somewhere?’ Can’t we just screw each others’ brains out and go back to living our lives like mature adults?”

Blueblood felt weak in the knees. How could she say that? Didn’t their time together mean anything to her? Weren’t they building something together? How could one pony just sleep with another pony and not develop an emotional attachment?

Eulalie.

Marmalade.

Banana Split.

Amber Sands.

Thunder Canyon.

Cherri Cobbler.

Trixie Lulamoon.

Rainy Daze.

Irons Hott.

Silver Showers.

One hundred and something-ty names suddenly flashed through his head and, for the briefest second, he remembered them all. The sounds of their voices, the smell of their coats, the tensing and rippling of their muscles in the heat of passion all flooded his memories and they stopped being just names. They were stories.

He met Amber Sands at the opera. She was the coat-check girl, breathless and ecstatic to be noticed by a handsome Prince, overcome by fairy tale fantasies. She thought it was her dreams come true.

Trixie was doing street magic on Broadway and wowing a crowd with her “Brain Freak” act. He tipped her a hundred Bit piece. He promised to make her a star again. He has Tombs burn her letters with the rest.

Lieutenant Irons was chief of his personal guard. She’s a civilian now, a single mother living with her parents in Fillydelphia.

One hundred and something-ty mornings after flashed by. Some took their Walk of Shame with dignity and poise, others… less so, but it was always a Walk of Shame.

Did it hurt them to sleep with somepony that didn’t love them?

Ridiculous. Ponies do it all the time. Everywhere, all over the world.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Celestia, how it hurt!

He looked back down at Eulalie. She regarded him coolly.

“I thought we had something special,” he said, pleading.

She shook her head.

“You sound like a mare,” she scoffed “You should really be more like Prince Blueblood. He’s a real stallion.”

Blueblood’s head whipped around.

Big Mac sat dumbly on his haunches, watching the discussion with a stupid blank look on his face.

“A ‘real stallion,’ huh?” he turned on Big Mac “A ‘real stallion’ huh!?”

Big Mac stood up now. He smelled trouble.

“I’ll show you a ‘real stallion!’” said Blueblood.

“Now, Blueblood, calm down…” Big Mac took a step back.

Blueblood smacked him across the jaw with the back of his hoof.

The blow sent Big Macintosh reeling and he staggered to one side, shaking stars out of his vision.

Blueblood charged.

***

“Ah think it came from over here,” said Applejack. She lead the group, comprised of herself, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Tombs toward the clearing. They’d converged on this part of the forest, drawn by Twilight’s explosion in the sky, just like Prince Blueblood.

Eulalie burst out of the bushes, galloping hard in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait just a cotton’ pickin’ minute here!” Applejack called after her. She didn’t stop or slow down.

“What’s up with her?” asked Rainbow Dash.

The others shrugged and pressed on to the lighted clearing ahead.

“Oh my… it sounds like somepony’s in trouble,” remarked Fluttershy, shivering a little in her tracks. There were the telltale sounds of a struggle up ahead.

“Naw, I bet it’s just two ponies enjoying the romp,” suggested Rainbow Dash “Two stallions, by the sound of things. Gross.”

Everypony looked up at her.

“What?” shrugged Rainbow “It is gross.”

A cry of pain echoed through the woods. Applejack perked up her ears.

“That sounded like Big Macintosh!”

“With another stallion?” Fluttershy’s ears perked up this time.

Applejack charged into the clearing, the others followed.

“Big Mac!” cried Applejack.

“Sire!” cried Tombs.

Big Macintosh and Blueblood wrestled in the center of the clearing. They reared up on their hind hooves and kicked at each others’ faces. Big Macintosh jabbed Blueblood in the side with his horn. Blueblood yelped and bit him on the ear.

In one form or another, the Prince was in danger. Tombs had to do something.

“Sire, stop this at once!” Tombs charged at the pair, determined to stop the fight.

“No, Tombs!” Rainbow Dash blocked him.

“Not now, miss Dash!”

“I won’t let you get hurt again!” she launched herself into the fray, wedging herself between two tons of angry, thrashing stallion.

It worked at first… until Blueblood tried to swing around her at Big Macintosh. Rainbow squirmed at the wrong moment and his hoof, big and heavy as a boulder, connected with the side of her face.

She hit the ground like a sack of Skittles.

“Rainbow!” Applejack was at her side in the blink of an eye.

“Rainbow Dash, speak to me!”

“Did anypony get the lischense number of that avalanche?” she slurred through a seeping mouthful of blood and rapidly puffing lips. Her left eye was already starting to swell shut.

“Rainbow? Rainbow!” Applejack shook her, tender, but firm.

Rainbow Dash was already unconscious.

Applejack turned to the battling stallions, a blur of hooves and teeth and whinnying. Flying manes and flicking tails. A two-ton tornado of muscle and bone and sinew. She spit on the ground and marched in.

WHAM!

KABLAM!

Applejack gave them both good applebuckin’ kicks, sending them to opposite ends of the clearing. Big Macintosh hit the ground and rolled for another three feet. Blueblood smashed into a tree, knocking it askew.

Blueblood blinked his eyes open. Applejack towered over him.

“Go with Tombs and get yerself cleaned up, Big Brother” she commanded.

“You, too, yer majesty,” she barked over her shoulder “Fluttershy, help me get Rainbow Dash to the hospital.”

Blueblood raised himself up on shaky legs and did as he was told. Tombs helped Big Mac to his feet, letting him lean on his shoulder for support.

Fluttershy helped hold Rainbow Dash steady on Applejack’s back and they made their way to the hospital.

***

Big Mac and Blueblood returned to Sweet Apple Acres in silence. They bathed separately. Blueblood in a tub in the kitchen, big Macintosh next to the pump out back. Tombs pulled double duty to wash and bandage both of them.

“Tombs, I don’t want you to assist Mister Macintosh any further,” said Blueblood when Tombs came around with bath beads and salt from the prince’s luggage “You work for me, he can look after himself. That much is obvious.”

“I hesitate to remind sire that Mister Macintosh is still occupying your body. My duties do include tending to your personal appearance.”

“Those duties won’t be in conflict much longer, Mister Macintosh and I will be switching back. When we’re done here, fetch that Zebra voodoo creature and have her perform her medicine dance or whatever to get these blasted horseshoes off and me in my proper body.”

Tombs didn’t respond.

“Did you hear me, Tombs?”

Tombs weighed his words carefully.

“Sire, I regret to inform you that I’ve already taken the liberty of consulting with Miss Zecora.”

“And?”

“To the best extent of Miss Zecora’s knowledge, the spell is irreversible.”

Blueblood sat in silence, stewing in his bubbles.

“When did you find this out?” he asked, at length.

“Some time ago sir, roughly around the time of my hospitalization.”

A longer pause this time.

“You’ve known about this for weeks and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“Yes, Sire,” Tombs bowed low “A regrettable oversight on my part. I’ve been remiss in my duties. I understand if-”

Blueblood clipped him on the ear with his forehoof. The blow stung Tombs’s ear almost as bad as his pride.

“Very good, sir.”

Tombs shook just the right measure of salts and beads into the bathwater, laid out the prince’s towels on the stool next to the tub, and walked out to help Big Macintosh.

He didn’t come back.

Blueblood stewed and stewed.

***

Fluttershy had gone home. Applejack stayed with Rainbow Dash at the hospital. She wouldn’t have to stay overnight, but they were going to be a while.

She was lucky, the doctor told them. Only bruising. No lacerations on her face. Very minor head trauma. She’d have a headache and the swelling would last at least a week, but she got off light considering how most things that tangled with Big Mac and lost were usually discovered later, spread out over a large area.

“Thanks for staying with me, Applejack,” grunted Rainbow Dash “It means a lot to me.”

“’Tweren’t nuthin’ Rainbow,” smiled Applejack. She’d grabbed a Daring Do book from the hospital book cart and set it at Rainbow’s bedside.

Rainbow Dash looked up at the ceiling.

“Tartarus, what a day it’s been.”

“Amen to that.”

“You know what hurts worse than getting punched in the face?”

“What’s that, pardner?”

“Finding out the pony you’re into doesn’t like you back.”

Applejack kept her mouth shut.

“I mean, I figured getting closure with Fluttershy after all these years would make me feel better, but it turns out I feel crummy all the same.”

“Fluttershy loves you, sugarcube. Not everypony loves everypony else the same way. Ah’m sorry it’s not the way you wanted, but she loves you all the same.”

“Thanks, Applejack. You’re so smart. I’m really lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Ah do mah best,” smiled Applejack “Ah really care about you, Rainbow, and Ah want t’ see you happy. Ah know we fight sometimes, and we’re both stubborn when we think we’re right, but Ah’ll always be there whenever you need me.”

“Oh Applejack, I wish you were gay,” said Rainbow Dash.

Applejack laughed until her eyes were misty with tears.

“What’s so funny?”

“Yer so stupid R.D.!”

Applejack kissed her.

Rainbow Dash jerked as if she’d been struck by lightning. She pushed Applejack roughly away.

“Applejack, what’re you doing!?” she cried.

“Ah… Ah’m sorry, Ah didn’t mean t-”

“I’m all bruised all over that side! That hurts! Kiss me over here!” Rainbow gestured at the undamaged side of her face.

They kissed again. It was soft and tender and wet and hot. It was everything they wanted and everything they needed at the end of a crazy, messed up day.The End of Part 22

To be continued…

Chapter XXIII

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XXIII

Music echoed through the gilded halls of Canterlot Palace and rattled the glass in the windows of the royal apartments. Servants hovered nervously outside the grand double doors of Celestia’s inner sanctum, unsure if they should proceed with their daily chores, fearful of disturbing her. They could hear Celestia through the door, singing along to the lyrics.

This is a love attack, I know it went out but it’s back

It’s just like any fad: it retracts before impact

And just like fashion it’s a passion for the with it and hip

If you got the goods they’ll come and buy it just to stay in the clique

Clad in only her jim jams and tiara, Celestia bounced in rhythm to the music. The floor shook with the gyrations of her sizable frame and her mane spiraled behind her like the silken ribbons of a rhythmic gymnast.

She’d had a hi fidelity sound system installed in her chambers over three decades ago, back when shag carpeting and teakwood panels were in vogue. The bulky turntable and speakers clashed horribly with the elaborate, classical décor of her quarters. She’d always disdained the tacky thing and, since its installation, had maybe used it a hooffull of times, preferring instead the soft and dignified chamber music of her personal musicians.

However, she was in a spontaneous and celebratory mood that morning and, almost without thinking, found herself nosing through her extensive (albeit dusty) collection of LPs and throwing one on the player at random. Her good mood mingled with the music and it wasn’t long before she was singing and dancing along. In a ringing, gold and silver voice, she belted out the chorus:

So don’t delay, act now Supplies are running out

Allow if you’re still alive six to eight years to arrive

And if you follow there may be a tomorrow

But if the offer’s shunned,

You might as well be walkin’ on the sun!

Celestia did a little strut and turn to punctuate the last line.

“You’re uncharacteristically ebullient this morning.”

Celestia looked back over her shoulder, startled. She hadn’t heard Luna enter. Her sister strode in, trailing a small convoy of levitating breakfast trays.

“Oh, good morning, sister,” said Celestia, turning the music down with her magic “How was your night?”

“Exhausting. I thought you were going to meet me for breakfast,” said Luna.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I guess I wasn’t watching the time.”

“Apparently not. So, why the dancing? A little Springtime Frolic after party?” Luna asked as she arrayed the breakfast trays on a nearby coffee table. Servants scampered in and took over what Luna began, scandalized that their mistresses should have to set their own table.

The breakfast table was ready on short order and the princesses took their places.

“Can’t a princess dance just for the sheer joy of living?” responded Celestia, taking a seat behind a small model of the Palace, carved in French toast and drenched in syrup.

“Hypothetically, I suppose. Is that why you were dancing?”

“Well, that and the Blueblood situation is taken care of,” Celestia smiled, holding up the communiqué she’d received from Cadence the previous night. Luna took it and read it.

“’It is done.’” She read aloud. She turned it over to see if there were more and found the other side blank “That’s all? What’s ‘done?’ What does that mean?”

Some were spellbound, some were hellbound, some they fell down…

Celestia explained the details of the plan she’d worked out with Shining Armor the previous night.

“Celestia Hurricane Platinum!” Luna gasped, “That’s monstrous!”

Celestia squeaked her affront.

“Don’t middle name me, Luna Cookie Platinum! No monster, I! I assure you I acted for the best. Blueblood had it coming.”

“’Had it coming?’ How so? Sure, he’s a preening dilettante, but I’ve never seen him do anything bad.”

“Chuh, as if this isn’t bad enough. No, he’s doing this to get back at me for scolding him. He knows how much Twilight means to me and he concocted this romance as revenge.”

“Blueblood, a schemer?”

“Don’t be fooled by his bumbling exterior. He’s devious.”

Luna looked incredulous.

“Devious? Are you suggesting that Blueblood is pulling a Claudius?”

“Well, maybe not devious…”

“The same Blueblood that last Hearthswarming’s day got drunk on eggnog and got his head stuck between the banisters on the staircase in the great hall?”

“Well…”

“And then again later that day?”

“All part of the act…”

“The same Blueblood that entered the royal court one day in a Hawaiian shirt and flip flops because he thought it was ‘casual Friday?’”

“Um…”

“And it was Wednesday?”

“Point taken, Luna!” Celestia huffed.

Luna looked smug. Celestia sighed.

“Luna, I appreciate your tenderness toward Blueblood. I know his great great great great great great and so on grandfather was your favorite nephew and a great pony in his own right, but they’re nothing alike. You’ve known Blueblood for what… three years? I’ve known him since he was a foal. Trust me, he’s not worth your sympathy,” said Celestia.

“You’ve known him since he was a foal, and yet stood idly by while he’s become the colt that he is? Maybe you should be asking yourself why you didn’t raise him up better.”

“I’m not his parents!”

“No, but you have been an influential figure in his life. What have you contributed to his upbringing, apart from your disdain?”

Celestia was flustered now. She soothed the ruffled feathers on her wings and took some calming breaths.

“We can discuss my shortcomings as a role-model some other time. The point is that now Blueblood is not the sort I want consorting with my prized pupil.”

“Of course. A bad boyfriend is too traumatizing for your precious protégé, much better that she learn to loathe and distrust all stallions. What sort of lesson is that?”

“I hardly think-”

“You told me yourself that Twilight is a fountainhead of untold power. It’s imperative that she be instilled with a love and appreciation for all life, and here you’ve gone and planted in her the seeds of hatred.”

That gave Celestia pause.

“What will happen when those seeds come to bloom, and those powers of hers are turned to some twisted purpose?” Luna continued.

Celestia gave it some thought.

“Perhaps I should pay her a visit after breakfast. Spend some girl time with her. Ensure the lessons she takes away from this are positive…” she said.

“What will you tell her when she asks how you knew to come?”

As if answering her question, a cloud of smoke coalesced out of the air and unburned into a scroll with a flash of green flame. Celestia caught it before it fell on her French toast palace.

“Dear Princess Celestia, something bad happened to Twilight last night and she won’t stop crying, what should I do? Your faithful servant, Spike.” Celestia read aloud.

The note was scrawled in a trembling hand that bespoke a kind of desperate urgency. Celestia hissed softly through her teeth. Luna’s expression practically shouted I told you so! in the Royal Canterlot Voice.

“Maybe I should grab something to eat on the road…” suggested Celestia.

“I’m coming, too,” Luna stood “To make sure you don’t mess up comforting her like you messed up rescuing her.”

Celestia frowned but didn’t object. She donned her royal panoply and the sisters departed out the window for Ponyville, leaving the servants to debate whether or not to tell Gustav that his latest breakfast masterpiece had gone to waste.

***

Applejack and Rainbow Dash slept curled up against each other in Applejack’s bed with Applejack as the big spoon, her face buried in Rainbow’s mane. The rising sun crept up their bodies and warmed their faces. It tickled Applejack’s nose and she sneezed messily into the back of Rainbow’s head. Rainbow flicked her ears, but slumbered on. It had been an exhausting night and after returning home from the hospital, the two barely had the energy to do anything but crawl into bed together and enjoy the warmth of each other’s bodies. Rainbow’s face was still mottled purple with bruises, but the swelling had gone down and in the golden light of dawn, she looked almost picturesque.

“Applejack! Applejack wake up!” Applebloom rushed into the room, her little hooves clattering on the wooden floor. She leaped into the bed, landing right on Applejack’s legs.

“Ow! OW!” Applejack yelped “Tarnation, Applebloom! The barn’d better be on fire!”

Rainbow Dash awoke with a snort. A glistening rope of saliva tethered her face to the pillow.

“Who’s on fire?” she blinked. She noticed Applebloom and jerked the covers up to cover her bare torso.

Applebloom either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Rainbow Dash. She danced on the bed, looking anxiously over her shoulder.

“Applebloom, whut’s wrong?” asked Applejack.

“It’s Big Macintosh, he’s gone crazy! He’s smashin’ all the Prince’s stuff!” she exclaimed.

To punctuate her statement, a muffled crash reverberated through the floor.

Applejack shook the grogginess out of her head and rolled out of bed. Rainbow Dash grumbled and stretched before hopping out after her.

“Good mornin’ Rainbow Dash.” said Applebloom “Did you and Applejack have a nice slumber party?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah!” Rainbow smiled.

Applejack grabbed her hat and trotted down the stairs. Rainbow Dash and Applebloom followed close behind.

***

“Blueblood, stop this!” Big Macintosh and Tombs stood well back as Blueblood vented his frustrations on the pile of royal luggage that stood, still mostly unopened, in the back corner of the barn.

“Why should I?” yelled Blueblood “These are my things! I’ll do what I want with them while they’re still mine!”

“Sire, control yourself!” pleaded Tombs, looking as dignified as he could while still clad in his bathrobe.

“You’ve taken my body from me!” shouted Blueblood, kicking over a large steamer trunk that struck the barn floor with a loud crash and tinkle of glass.

“You’ve taken Eulalie from me!” he kicked a traveling wardrobe open and started flinging suits out onto the ground with his teeth. Tombs inched in to try and retrieve them, but Blueblood stomped and chased him back to the doorway where Big Macintosh stood.

“You’ve even taken my valet from me!” he shouted “So, why not take everything?”

He dumped a case of fine china onto the ground.

“You. Can. Have. My. Plates. And. Cups,” he punctuated each word with a stomp and crunch of china. Tombs had to look away. It was too gruesome.

“You can have my clothes,” he bit the lapel of a white dinner jacket and tore it open along the seams.

“You can have my crown!” he barked, removing his ceremonial coronet from its case and punting it like a football across the barn where it vanished behind a haystack.

“Big Macintosh, what’s gotten into you?” Applejack pushed her way out from between Big Mac and Tombs. Rainbow Dash and Applebloom hung back, watching from inside the kitchen.

“Maybe you should ask Big Macintosh who he’s gotten into!” yelled Blueblood, pointing at Big Mac.

“Big Mac, that don’t make a lick of sense,” Applejack scowled.

“Sorry, sis,” sighed Big Mac. Applejack whipped around, startled.

“Whu’d you call me?”

Big Mac hung his head.

“Sis, there’s some things Ah gotta tell ya about…”

***

Big Mac and Blueblood finished their story while Tombs served everybody a calming chamomile tea. Applebloom had been sent upstairs, but she peeked down from the landing, craning her neck to see through the halfway-open kitchen door. Applejack sat, staring straight ahead while her tea got cold in front of her. Rainbow Dash jiggled her hoof nervously against the tile. Takatakatakatakatakatakataka.

The pause in conversation got too intense for her.

“So let me get this straight…” said Rainbow Dash “You’ve been in each others’ bodies the whole time?”

“Eeyup,” answered Big Mac.

“Precisely,” answered Blueblood.

Applejack and Rainbow regarded the two of them in stunned silence.

“Even when I…”

“Eeyup,” nodded Big Mac. He cast a worried look in Applejack’s direction. She hadn’t spoken since the conclusion of their story and was looking a little shell-shocked.

Applejack’s mind raced through all the times in the past month where a hug with her “brother” had lasted slightly longer than was comfortable. She looked up at Blueblood. He smiled sheepishly back at her. She went back to looking straight ahead.

“Ah’m really sorry, AJ,” said Big Mac.

It was so strange to hear his words in Blueblood’s voice.

On some level, Applejack had suspected all along, but the logical part of her brain couldn’t admit it was possible. Something in the tone of voice, the body language, the gait suggested familiarity whenever she interacted with “Blueblood.” Meanwhile, her relationship with her “brother” had grown progressively more awkward and distant. She thought it was only natural that a gulf would start to develop between them since he’d started dating. Family was the most important thing in the world, but it wasn’t the only thing. She’d backed off and given him space, told herself that she only disapproved of Eulalie because of petty jealousy, that her brother was only acting strange because he was trying to impress his new girlfriend. The real truth hit her like a ton of bricks.

Rainbow Dash was still full of nervous energy. Takatakatakatakatakatakataka.

“So you did all this so that you could get Twilight to like you?” she asked.

“Eeyup.”

“Why go through all this trouble only to cheat on her!?” she threw up her hooves.

Big Mac looked down at his hooves.

“Ah… Ah don’t know,” he answered.

Tombs cleared his throat. Everypony cast a weary glance in his direction.

“Sir, if I might take the liberty, I’m not entirely certain you did cheat on miss Sparkle, at least not knowingly.”

“Chuh, I think it’s pretty obvious that he did! Everypony saw them!” Rainbow scoffed.

“Yes, but from his description of his impression of events, I suspect he wasn’t acting of his own free will,” explained Tombs.

“What do you mean?” asked Blueblood, leaning in.

“The Springtime Frolic has a well-established reputation for debauchery and hedonistic behavior. It’s not totally unbelievable that somepony might have surreptitiously slipped mister Macintosh some psychoactive substance. He was acting ‘under the influence’ as it were.”

“So… so maybe Eulalie was under the influence as well?” asked Blueblood. Hopeful. Desperate.

Tombs coughed.

“I cannot elucidate on that matter…” he said, delicately.

“You really think it was drugs?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Or sorcery,” answered Tombs “Though I can only think of a handful of ponies capable of casting such a spell…”

Or only one.

Applejack finally started to ease out of her stupor.

“So…” she started. Everypony turned to look at her.

“So… when are you two switchin’ back?” she asked.

Big Mac, Blueblood and Tombs all hung their heads.

“We don’t know how to switch back,” said Blueblood.

“You mean, yer gonna be stuck like this forever?”

Nopony answered.

Once again, Rainbow’s impatience goaded her into speaking.

“So you’re just gonna give up?” she asked “Have you tried just taking off the horseshoes?”

“Yes, but it seems that no amount of force can remove them,” answered Tombs, shaking his head.

“What about magic?”

Tombs shook his head again.

“The spell on the horseshoes is very ancient and very powerful. The older a spell is, the deeper it digs itself into the object it occupies. Judging from the legend, I’d say they even predate Princess Celestia. Even if the spell could be overpowered, the consequences of doing so would be severe.”

“How severe?”

“Potentially fatal.”

There was a long and sober silence.

“I bet Twilight could break it!” Applebloom darted into the kitchen.

“Applebloom, Ah told you to wait in yer room!” Applejack scolded.

“No!” she squeaked “Big Macintosh is mah brother, too! Ah don’t want to be sister with some smelly ol’ prince!”

Blueblood huffed.

“Ah’m still yer brother, Applebloom,” said Big Mac.

Applebloom’s eyes filled with tears.

“Can’t you please switch back? Twilight kin do it, Ah know she can! Just ask her!”

“I don’t think Twilight’s in the mood to talk to me,” sighed Big Mac.

Applejack stood up.

“Well, she’ll talk to me. Ah want mah brother back!”

Applejack marched out the door, everypony else got up and followed.

***

Knock knock knock!

Applejack pounded on the door to the library. Everypony else crowded around behind, using her as a shield.

The door opened with a spark and buzz of magic.

“Thank goodness, Twi, Ah-”

“Oh, Applejack, how good to see you!” Cadence smiled. She looked past her at Big Macintosh and her smile soured instantly.

“Yer majesty, mah brother and Prince Blueblood need Twilight’s help, it’s urgent.”

“I’m afraid Twilight isn’t really in a condition to help anypony at the moment, and certainly not my cousin.”

Twilight’s tearful sobs drifted around her from inside the library.

Big Mac stepped forward. Cadence drew back as if overpowered by some distasteful odor.

“Princess, Ah know Ah’m not the most popular pig in the poke right now, but if you’d hear me out-”

“Who’s at the door?” asked a voice, all milk and honey.

Cadence stepped aside and suddenly Big Mac was face to chest with Princess Celestia. She filled the doorway and then some. Her glorious, ever flowing mane billowed around her like a pastel halo. Big Mac saw his face reflected a dozen times in the facets of the tangerine-sized amethyst she wore on her golden yoke. The perfume of her coat and mane filled his nostrils. The smell was overpowering and intense, like a blood-red field of a million million roses. Like the strange air of an alien sky. He’d always believed in her otherworldly divinity but, for the first time in his life, he felt it.

“P-p-p-p…” he stammered.

“You don’t belong here,” she told him.

Big Mac’s legs turned him around and started walking away before his brain even caught up with the words. Applejack stopped him.

“Please, yer majesty. It’s important that mah brother see Twilight,” she said.

Celestia nodded.

“Of course, I have no objection to Big Macintosh coming to visit Twilight, though I caution him that she’s in a very delicate state right now, and I will not be pleased if he says or does anything to upset her.”

“Thank you, Princess,” said Applejack “Go ahead, Big Mac.”

Big Mac turned around and started walking back toward the door. Celestia didn’t step aside. She raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

“Applejack, I said Big Macintosh could come in, not prince Blueblood.”

“Yer majesty, this is Big Macintosh,” Applejack gestured to the white unicorn standing next to her. Big Mac smiled.

“Applejack, I’m in no mood for practical jokes,” Celestia frowned.

“It’s no joke, Princess. Please.”

Applejack’s voice was so earnest and her eyes so desperate, Celestia couldn’t help but sympathize. She stepped aside.

Big Mac and the rest of the group entered. Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie and Rarity were already there commiserating with Twilight. They sat in a circle around her with Shining Armor and Princess Luna. Several half-empty cartons of ice-cream lay scattered about the floor, along with a small mountain of wet and wadded Kleenex. Twilight sobbed and honked her nose into another one, crumpling it and adding it to the growing pile.

Shining Armor was the first to notice Big Macintosh. He leaped to his feet.

“What is he doing here?” he demanded.

Spike leaped up next to him and growled, swiping his pinlike claws in Big Mac’s direction.

“I think that’s what we’re all about to find out,” said Celestia, marching over and taking her place next to Shining Armor. The others stood, too. A wall of accusing eyes and scowling faces.

Big Mac cleared his throat.

“Twilight,” he began, trying to see around Celestia’s billowing mane.

“Go away!” Twilight sobbed “I don’t want to see you!”

Big Mac faltered. Shining Armor snorted.

“I think we’ve stood for this long enough. Get out!” he commanded, pawing at the ground.

Luna raised her hoof across his chest.

“No, let’s hear him out,” she said.

Shining Armor snorted again.

“Very well, Blueblood. We shall hear you out, then throw you out.”

Big Macintosh took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said “Twilight, I haven’t been honest with you and you deserve to know the truth.”

“That much is obvious!” interrupted Shining Armor.

Luna shushed him.

“Ah know you think you’ve been dating some sophisticated prince all this time, but really, I’m just some nopony who’s not worthy to kiss your hooves.”

Twilight’s sobbing stopped. Did the silence mean she was listening? He could only hope.

“The truth is I’ve been lying to you all along. I’ve been lying to myself. I thought that if I looked the part of a handsome prince, I’d be good enough for you, but you can’t love someone with a lie. I thought becoming prince Blueblood would bring me closer to you, but every time I hid who I was, I was only driving myself further away. Twilight, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen and I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you. Maybe it’s too late for the truth, but here it is anyway: Prince Blueblood didn’t cheat on you, I did.”

His accusers exchanged confused looks.

“What the hoof is this, Blueblood?” Twilight growled through hot tears and snotty nose. The wall of anger parted. Twilight lay on her side in the middle of the floor, glaring at him from behind another soaking tissue.

“I’m trying to tell you that the pony you fell in love with didn’t cheat on you. I’m Big Macintosh. I have been all along.”

“What?” Cadence exclaimed.

“Please, I’ve spent weeks with you! If there were a spell on you, I would have sensed it. Any unicorn could!”

“I can’t explain it, I just know it’s true.”

Big Mac was nearly drowned in a flood of angry questions and accusations. Do you really expect us to believe that? How is this possible? Who the hell do you think you are? Get out! Ridiculous! Um… if that’s okay with you…

“BE STILL!” Luna’s Royal Canterlot Voice shook the tree and jarred books from their shelves.

Everypony spent a few seconds shaking the tinnitus out of their eardrums as Luna stepped forward.

“There’s an easy way to see if he’s telling the truth,” said Luna. She turned to Twilight.

“Twilight, do you have a thaumascope?” she asked.

“A little one,” answered Twilight, her scientific curiosity flickering to life in the darkness of her misery.

“Perhaps it will be sufficient,” nodded Luna.

Everypony followed Twilight into the basement, a broad room capped by a dome of soil and roots. The loamy smell of living earth mingled with the harsh and acrid stench of chemicals and electricity. Twilight had a laboratory set up there, with many bubbling phials and flasks filled with colorful liquid. A Jacob’s ladder arced loudly in the corner while a seismograph ticked away, unspooling graph paper into a small basket on the ground. An oversized plush alligator hung from the ceiling, regarding the proceedings below with stupid, glass eyes.

Twilight pushed aside some boxes of Hearthswarming decorations and wheeled out her thaumascope. A clumsy looking apparatus consisting of many lenses of different colored glass mounted on an articulated frame.

“If there is a spell on you that we’re somehow not sensing, the thaumascope will give us a good look at it,” said Twilight.

She led Big Mac to a clear spot in front of the thaumascope and adjusted the lenses to put him in focus. Everypony gathered behind her to watch the results. Twilight flicked a switch and the lenses buzzed to life, converting radiant magical energy into visible light.

Through the thaumascope, Big Mac’s body emanated a faint bluish glow that was strongest in his heart and horn. Twilight, Celestia, Luna and Cadence all shook their heads, prompting the others to murmur anxiously.

“There’s nothing there but your natural magic,” frowned Cadence “You’ve wasted all our time with your lies.”

“Wait,” said Blueblood “Check his hooves.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but allowed Big Mac to step closer to the machine and hold up his forehoof with the golden horseshoe. Twilight peered at the lenses and frowned.

“There might be something there…” she mumbled, adjusting the magnification. Everypony leaned in for a closer look.

The crystal lenses came into focus and Big Mac’s horseshoe was enlarged several times in the glass. The horseshoe, at first dim and lifeless, suddenly flickered with a deep purple light. Twilight gasped. Writhing arcs of energy crawled over the horseshoe like a nest of maggots, swimming through the gold like water.

“This is the most tightly woven spell I’ve ever seen!” exclaimed Twilight, her eyes dancing across the glass “No wonder I couldn’t feel it, the radiant energy loss is almost nil. It would be invisible next to your own biomagical field!”

Twilight looked up from the thaumascope at Big Macintosh, seeing him as if for the first time. Big Macintosh broke into a smile of deep relief. Blueblood let out the breath he was holding and Rainbow Dash rubbed Applejack’s leg.

Twilight didn’t contribute to the sudden rise in the room’s average mood.

“What are you smiling about?” she chided Big Mac “All this means is the love of my life turned out to be a cheater and a liar!”

Big Mac took a step back.

“As far as I’m concerned, you deserve to be stuck like this!” said Twilight.

Since the thaumascope had revealed the body swap spell, Cadence and Shining Armor had been exchanging nervous glances with one another, and their consciences got the better of both of them.

“Uh, Twilie…” said Shining Armor.

“What?” Twilight whirled on him.

“Blueblood… I mean… Big Macintosh… might not have cheated on you…” Cadence grinned sheepishly.

“What?”

They explained.

Twilight looked like she was going to explode. Then she did.

“WHAT? HOW COULD YOU!? HOW DARE YOU!” she screamed at Cadence “YOU STUPID, SELFISH BITCH!”

“Whoa, Twilie,” Shining Armor stepped forward.

“No! No ‘whoa Twilie’ me! I will not ‘whoa Twilie!’ You put her up to this! You jerk! I can’t believe that you would take it upon yourself, you… you had no right!”

“We only wanted to protect you,” Cadence pleaded.

“Protect my ass!” Twilight stomped her hooves.

“Twilight, calm yourself,” Celestia stepped forward now, placing a gentle hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. Twilight bit back the next string of insults she wanted to hurl at her brother and looked up at her Princess, dumb with anger and hurt.

“Twilight, please don’t look too harshly on the actions of your family. What they did, they did at my behest. If you would be mad at anypony, be mad at me…” Celestia looked down at Twilight, her eyes full of honesty and repentance.

“You, Princess?” Twilight backed away from her touch, as if Celestia’s hoof were suddenly red hot. Her head was spinning. She’d been too angry, too sad, too happy, too terrified in the past twenty four hours than anypony should be. Her chest felt hot, like hear heart was suddenly pumping burning magma instead of blood. It was all just… just…

Twilight giggled.

“Twilight?” Luna stepped forward, concerned “Are you alright?”

“No, yeah, no,” she laughed “It’s funny, that’s okay, really.”

Twilight looked around the room. Her friends, her brother, her sister, her teacher, her boyfriend. Liars. Liars! Liars!

“So I’ve just been dating my best friend’s brother in the body of a prince that he took to fool me into getting into bed with him and my teacher, the mare who was practically a second mother to me, mind you, colluded with my brother and my favorite foal-sitter to cast a spell so that he would cheat on me to spare me the pain of being cheated on,” she giggled again, a manic grin creeping across her features.

“Uh, Twilight… you’re scaring me…” squeaked Fluttershy, retreating behind her lemonade pink mane.

“Yeah, you’re acting kinda weird,” observed Pinkie Pie.

Twilight smirked.

“Sooooooooooo, while we’re airing our dirty laundry, anyone else I love have a secret they’ve been keeping from me?” her gaze darted wildly around “Spike?”

“Ah!”Spike yelped.

“Are you stealing money out of my dresser?” she asked, grinning. She didn’t wait for his response, instead whirling on Rarity.

“Rarity, when you measure me for a new dress, are you really copping a feel?”

Rarity gasped. Twilight kept looking for new targets.

“Pinkie Pie? Applejack? Rainbow Dash? Chime in, I’m all ears!”

Celestia stepped forward.

“Twilight, I know this is stressful for you, but I think that’s enough acting out. You obviously need rest.”

“Of course! Of course! The mare who conspired with my brother to bewitch her own nephew into cheating on her ‘favorite student’ knows best! That’s just… that’s just…” Twilight stammered. She felt feverish. Her soul felt too big for her skin, like she was suffocated, constrained by her own body. She couldn’t breathe. Her… thoughts… couldn’t breathe. Something inside her was asleep, but it was stirring.

“Twilight?” Luna made ready to catch her if she fainted.

Twilight’s inner eye opened.

A pulse of white light burst from Twilight’s body, shattering her laboratory and slamming everypony into the walls. The ceiling shook and the tree threatened to come down on top of them.

Celestia and Luna were on their feet first, Cadence rose and stood beside them.

“What’s happening?” asked Cadence, shouting over the maelstrom of wind and fire that whirled around Twilight Sparkle. Chunks of equipment and shards of glass were sucked into the tempest and whirled around Twilight in a ragged tornado.

“Remember I told you that Twilight was ‘anything but a regular old unicorn’ and charged you with keeping her safe?” said Celestia.

“Yes,” answered Cadence.

“Well, that might have been a slight understatement.”

“How much of an understatement?”

In answer, Celestia pointed to the center of the whirling, glowing mass where Twilight hung suspended in midair like a puppet. Her eyes blazed with white light. Magical energy arced over her body, enveloping her like a cocoon.

“Princess, what’s happening?” Shining Armor was on his feet, he joined the princesses huddled in the corner of the lab.

“The sleeper has awakened,” said Celestia.

“What does that mean?” Shining Armor turned to Cadence for answers. Nopony acknowledged him. They were all watching Twilight.

Twilight’s body started to change. Her legs were stretching, her horn lengthened and grew, tiny buds of wings pricked at her side like goose pimples before erupting into broad fans of purple feathers.

“Twilight was a nascent alicorn!?” Cadence exclaimed.

“Sister, what the hoof?” Luna shouted over the sturm and drang of Twilight’s transformation. “Your solution to the problem of alicorns being too powerful was to create another alicorn!?”

Celestia smiled sheepishly.

“Well, she wouldn’t be an alicorn all the time, only…”

“ONLY WHAT?” shouted Luna, the whistle of the tornado deafening now. She had to use the Royal Canterlot Voice to be heard.

The storm vanished. The silence set on them so fast it seemed even louder than the hurricane.

“Only when she needed to kill one of us…” finished Celestia.

Twilight’s head whipped around and fixed them with her glowing gaze. Heat distortion rippled off her body and excess energy boiled from her eye sockets. The air vibrated with a deep bass thrum that rattled their bones.

“Oh-” started Luna.

“-Shit,” finished Cadence. Her pupils narrowed to pinpoints.

As if responding to some unspoken consensus, the three princesses touched their horns to Shining Armor’s as he ignited his shield spell.

The room burst into flames.

Twilight’s attack was like the breakers of a dark and angry sea smashing against a cliff. Magical energy poured off the shield in torrents, flooding the room. Twilight’s friends caught outside the shield found themselves lifted bodily from the ground and tossed into the air like so many dandelion seeds. Magical energy arced through them and around them, piercing the soil and climbing up through the tree.

Twilight poured on her assault. Light buffeted against the shield and rolled off like water. Broad-spectrum magic scattered in all directions. For miles around, ponies found themselves levitated, transformed into potted plants, small woodland creatures, and decorative cuckoo-clocks. Princes popped out of frogs like popcorn, piling up on each other in heaps. The landscape twisted and warped as the Library rocked on its foundations, light pouring from every window and crevice.

Shining Armor wasn’t aware of anything except the sound of his own screaming and the force that was pouring through his horn into the shield. He was already pumping out more energy than it took to enclose all of Canterlot and condensing it into a sphere only a few yards across. The bubble was still starting to fracture.

“Tombs!” Blueblood shouted across the three foot gulf in the air where his valet hovered.

Tombs looked over.

“I’m sorry for being such a douchebag,” said Blueblood.

Tombs nodded.

“It’s been an honor serving with you, sire.”

“Ah guess this is it…” said Applejack.

“I guess so…” Rainbow Dash took Applejack’s hoof in hers. They shared a long, passionate kiss until a stray bolt of magic cut through the air and slammed Rainbow Dash into the wall.

“Rainbow!” Applejack yelled.

Across the room, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy gripped each other and cried into each other’s manes.

“Pinkie Pie, if I don’t make it out of this, please feed my animals.”

“Of course,” nodded Pinkie.

“Do you have any regrets?” asked Fluttershy.

“If I could do it all over again, I would have thrown more parties,” said Pinkie.

Fluttershy nodded.

Rarity flailed her legs and tried to swim in the air to escape from the dancing energy flying off Twilight. Spike drifted next to her.

“Uh, Rarity,” said Spike, his eyes welling up with tears “I just want you to know, I’ve always sort of had a crus-”

Rarity blocked his mouth with her hoof.

“Yes, dear, you told me that already. I’m so touched but I’m busy posing to be a beautiful corpse right now and I need you to go and be… over there…” she batted him away so that he drifted off into a far corner of the room, then proceeded to swoon in the air and fling her hoof over her head. She gave up a cry to the heavens. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she was still.

Spike wiped tears from his eyes.

“She was too beautiful for this sinful earth,” he whimpered.

After several seconds, Rarity opened one eye and peeked out to see how her death had gone over with the audience. Everypony was too busy with their own problems to notice her.

Big Macintosh didn’t have anypony nearby to tie up loose ends with him. There was only one pony with whom he wanted to share the final moments of his life, even if those final moments were her killing him. With great effort, he managed to drag himself across the floor towards Twilight.

“Big Mac, don’t do it, yer crazy!” yelled Applejack.

“I love you, sis,” he yelled back.

Inch by inch, he crawled to Twilight. Magic tore through his body. It felt like every hair of him were on fire. His body twisted and melted as if made of wax, but as long as he had legs, he would carry himself to her.

Inside the bubble, the Princesses and Shining Armor cowered as a growing spiderweb of cracks traced itself across the surface of their shield.

Big Mac pulled himself up level with Twilight’s face. She was as tall as he was, now. her long legs slim and graceful as maple boughs. Her face longer, slimmer, more mature and ageless beyond time. If she saw him, there was no way to tell. She’d focused all her power against Shining Armor’s shield, a blazing white stream of energy that blasted from her lengthy horn.

“I’m sorry, Twilight. I love you,” he said. He threw his forehooves around her neck and kissed her on the lips.

His body evaporated.

Everything was white.

Presently sound returned, then feeling, then sight.

The basement was there. Twilight’s friends rose from beneath piles of pulverized lab equipment and shook themselves, checking all their bits to make sure they were still there.

“Big Macintosh?” Twilight blinked. Still an alicorn, but her pupils and irises were back.

Big Mac looked down at his body. His red fur, his dirty blonde mane, his green-apple cutie mark. It was all back! He felt a pop and sudden heat under his hoof and jumped back. The golden horseshoe glowed white hot on the ground, sizzling in the dirt. It dimmed as they watched, finally cooling to its normal, lustrous gold.

“I’m me again!” cried Prince Blueblood from across the room. He examined his hooves and felt his horn, gleefully.

“Twilight, I’m sorry!” said Big Mac.

Twilight pressed herself to him. At first it felt like a hug, but her body went ragdoll limp and she slumped against his shoulder.

“Twilight?”

“Twilie!” Shining Armor rushed up.

Everypony gathered around as Big Macintosh lay Twilight gently to the ground.

“Give her some room” commanded Celestia, easing everypony back.

Twilight’s wings vanished, her horn retracted and her body shrank. Within seconds she was back to her old self. Big Macintosh stroked her long mane and nuzzled her neck.

Outside, the magic waves that had swept over Ponyville faded. Citizens returned to their normal forms, dogs stopped talking, lampposts unknotted themselves and ten thousand princes turned back into frogs (although forever after, the frogs around Ponyville had a reputation for being distinctly snobbish).

Twilight’s eyes fluttered open.

“Twilight, can you ever forgive me?” asked Big Mac.

“Yes,” she smiled weakly before easing her head back down to sleep in his lap.

“Well,” smiled Celestia proudly “It looks like everything’s back to normal.”

Luna shot Celestia an incredulous look. Celestia pretended not to see.

“Normal?” exclaimed Rainbow Dash, erupting from a pile of debris “You call this normal?”

Everypony turned to look at her. Jaws dropped.

“I’m a colt!” declared Rainbow Dash in a creamy tenor.

Applejack doffed her hat and pressed it close to her chest.

“Oh… my…” Rarity fanned herself.

“Yes… my…” whispered Fluttershy.

“Uh oh, here we go again!” exclaimed Spike, shrugging.

Everypony laughed.

Rainbow couldn’t believe it.

“Why is everypony laughing? This isn’t funny! This is a serious problem! Do you have any idea how much drag this thing’s going to add?” Rainbow cast a panicked look back between his hind legs.

Pinkie Pie bent down to get a good look.

“Not much by the look of things. I wouldn’t worry about it,” she observed.

“Pinkie!” everypony scolded. They all burst out laughing again.

“What’s wrong with all of you?” Rainbow stomped his hooves.

“All right settle down,” Celestia raised her hoof to silence the levity. She walked over to where Big Macintosh held Twilight cradled in his hooves.

“Big Macintosh, did you learn any important lessons about friendship today?”

Big Mac looked down at Twilight’s sleeping form.

“Eeyup.”

Celestia nodded and smiled.

“Good enough,” she signaled to the rest and together they climbed the stairs, filing out of the basement in order to give Big Mac and Twilight their privacy.

"You know all of this was your fault, right?" Luna murmured in Celestia's ear.

Celestia kept her eyes straight forward and trotted a little faster.

Rainbow Dash hopped along behind the rest.

“Come on, guys!” he begged “Wait up! You’re not gonna just leave me like this? Princess? Anypony?” Hey!”

More laughter from upstairs.

EPILOGUE

Twilight eased herself forward on the bed, letting herself feel the sheets caress her belly and legs. She breathed deep, savoring the deep and musky scent of Big Macintosh’s body next to her.

“Big Mac…” she whispered.

He was listening.

“I just want you to know… this is my first time…”

“Mine, too,” he answered.

He was silent for a moment.

“I think,” he amended.

Their lovemaking was as tender and awkward and sweet and careful as sex between two virgins could be. When it was over, Twilight knew she loved him.

***

There was a knock at the front door of number seventeen, East Cherry Tree Lane, Fillydelphia.

“I’ve got it,” Irons Hott called upstairs. She fluttered over to the door and lifted the curtain. Prince Blueblood and Tombs smiled at her from outside.

“What the hell?” she undid the deadbolt and opened the door.

“Miss Hott?” asked Tombs.

“What the hoof do you want?” she scowled.

“My employer has something he’d like to tell you,” Tombs stepped aside to let Blueblood speak.

She slapped him.

“That’s fair…” Blueblood rubbed his cheek “But listen. I uh… I’ve recently turned over a new leaf and I’d like to make amends for any heartache I may have caused you in the past…”

“Momma, who’s at the door?”

Irons looked back over her shoulder.

“Nopony, sweetums. Go and play,” she instructed.

Tombs and Blueblood craned their necks to see around her. A pegasus colt, young, just on the verge of stretching into the awkward gangliness of adolescence, stood behind her in the front hall. His coat was angel white. He sported a compass rose cutie mark and a long, cornsilk-blonde mane.

Blueblood swallowed. Tombs gave him a meaningful look.

“What’s… ah… What’s his name?” asked Blueblood.

“Northstar,” she answered.

“How old?”

“Six.”

Blueblood looked down at his hooves.

“Look, I’m lettin’ all the heat out. If you got some more business then speak up, otherwise, quit wastin’ my time,” grumbled Irons.

“Miss Irons, I don’t think I can ever make up for what I’ve done, but I want you to know I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”

“Chuh, yeah, right. Thanks very much, now get lost,” she started to push the door shut.

“Wait, ma’m,” Tombs jammed his hoof in the door.

Irons frowned.

“Please, take this, as a token of our goodwill,” said Blueblood. He magicked open his saddlebag and levitated out a large brick of gold, emblazoned with the emblem of the Royal Family. Irons took the heavy brick with wide-eyed disbelief.

“We’ll be in touch,” said Tombs.

Tombs let her close the door.

Blueblood breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He turned to Tombs, who was crossing off a name in his little black book. Across the street, a pony on a tall ladder finished pasting up a large poster advertising The Return of the Great and Powerful Trixie!

“Okay, so that’s eight down…” said Blueblood.

“One hundred and… forty one to go, sire,” offered Tombs.

Blueblood heaved another sigh and plodded on.

“Tombs, could you at least take a turn carrying the gold?” he asked.

“Very good, Sire.”

***

A clink in the dark. The rustle of a black cloak. As Twilight and Big Macintosh explored their passions upstairs, Zecora crept down to the basement. No need to worry about Spike, he’d been sent away to stay with Fluttershy for the evening.

Zecora tread carefully amidst the broken glass and shattered machinery. Barely visible in the shadows were the twin arcs of the golden horseshoes. Zecora picked one up carefully with her mouth and balanced it on top of her hoof so that she could hold it to her ear. The gold sang its ancient song. The spell was still alive. Weakened, but growing once again.

Zecora smiled and tucked the shoes into her bag. She vanished with a swirl of her cloak.

THE END

But, the adventure isn’t over!

Tombs and Blueblood will be back in

Canterlot Holiday

Alternatively titled

Rainbro Dash!

Chapter XVI

The Prince and the Workhorse

Part XVI

Pinkie and Tombs lay next to each other on the bed. Breathless, exhausted, stupid. The bed was big and warm and pink. Tombs exhaled across Pinkie’s chest and watched her cotton candy hair ripple under his breath. Pinkie’s back leg twitched involuntarily in the air as vestigial pangs of pleasure crackled inside her. She exhaled a shuddering breath.

“Ohhh, golly,” she stretched and grinned “That was the best game of combination Bingo and Twister I’ve ever played! Your calves were getting pretty turgid towards the end, though.”

Tombs laughed.

“You were shouting ‘bingo’ so loudly, you probably scared the poor Cakes half to death,” he said.

“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes,” she smiled self-consciously.

“I noticed.”

Tombs looked up at the ceiling.

“You know you never really answered my question,” he said.

“What question?”

“What we’re doing together. Why we keep… colliding like this.”

Pinkie scratched his chest.

“Honestly? The first time was just drunken spontaneity, but you were just so good I had to go back for seconds!” she nuzzled him “Where’d you learn all those fancy moves anyway?”

“Manipuri,” answered Tombs, absent-mindedly stroking her mane.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Why were you in Manipuri?”

“I used to be in the Armored Cavalry, back when I was young.”

Pinkie giggled.

“I’d say you’re still pretty spry. You can’t be much older than Mr. Cake.”

“It was still a long time ago.”

“Is that where you got that scar?” Pinkie touched his belly, tracing the thin line of pale flesh that crossed his stomach like railroad tracks. Her hoof traced from left to right, following the same path the jagged chunk of Mark V did when it snicked his gut open.

Tombs rolled onto his back, a faraway look in his eyes.

“I got that in the Congo,” he said “Struck by a piece of shrapnel. They ended up cutting out some of my lower intestine to remove it.”

“Gross!”

“Mmhm…”

Pinkie watched him laying there, a faraway look clouding his eyes. The silence got to her after a few seconds and she became restless.

“You said you were looking for Rainbow Dash?” she blurted.

Tombs had completely forgotten the reason he’d come to Ponyville that morning.

“Yes, it’s actually quite important that I talk to her,” he said, sitting up.

“She’s at the Ponyville Cinestar Theater watching the matinee showing of the latest Daring Do adventure. It should be letting out in…” Pinkie looked over at the clock on her dresser “Four minutes and eighteen seconds.”

“You knew where she was all along and you still-”

“Also knew we had an hour to kill? Yes!”

Tombs sighed and kissed her full on the mouth. She melted into it and their lips parted with a soft “pop.” Her leg twitched. That was her Pinkie Sense telling her she’d just received an amazing kiss.

“Pinkie,” said Tombs.

“Yeah?” Pinkie murmured, still lost in her own little world.

“Whatever happens later, remember that things are not always what they seem, and I would never do anything to hurt you or your friends.”

“Uh huh…” Pinkie sighed.

Tombs rolled out of the bed and went hunting for his clothes; they’d been strewn far and wide in the heat of passion.

Pinkie sat bolt upright.

“Hey! Waitaminute! What does that mean!?” she asked.

Tombs had already left.

***

Even nose-deep in her bag of popcorn, Rainbow Dash couldn’t take her eyes off the flickering screen. She licked the unpopped kernels and butter from the bottom of the bag as she watched a fifteen-foot tall Sophia Sorrel smooch lustily with a towering Clarke Stable in vibrant black and white.

Rainbow Dash loved Sophia Sorrel’s portrayal of Daring Do. She was smart, strong, confident, and brought a wit and charm to the role that really brought the character to life exactly as Rainbow had always imagined her in books. She hoped Clarke Stable really appreciated how lucky he was to have her tongue in his mouth; it’s not everypony who got to play opposite such a talented actress.

In the darkness around her, all the little foals who’d skipped school to come to see the matinee squirmed.

“Ughhhh!”

“Not the gushy part!”

“Gross!”

Rainbow snorted.

“Pipe down! I can’t hear the end!” she hissed.

Applebloom’s Pegasus friend, Scootaloo was there too. She adored Rainbow Dash and followed her everywhere. When she saw Rainbow was going to see Daring Do and the Curse of the Warlock, Part 5(the Thrilling Conclusion!) she just had to skip school and go, too!

“Yeah!” yelled Scootaloo from her seat nearby “Rainbow Dash can’t hear the end!”

“I thought I said pipe down!” Rainbow snapped at the darkness.

Scootaloo squeaked and sank into her seat cushion.

The credits rolled and the house lights came up.

“Aw, shucks,” Rainbow grumbled “I missed the part where he said he loves her…”

“I love you, Rainbow Dash…” whispered Scootaloo, so quietly not even the pony sitting next to her could hear.

Rainbow dropped her empty popcorn bag in the trashcan by the door and trotted out into the bright daylight.

“Rainbow Dash!” somepony shouted at her.

Rainbow shielded her eyes with her hoof and allowed them to adjust. Somepony was standing in the middle of the road outside the theater. It was that fancy little butler that trailed Blueblood around. What did he want?

“Whaddya want?” she shouted back.

“If you’ll pardon the liberty, ma’m, I’m calling you out!”

“Oh yeah? For what?”

“I heard you recently delivered an opprobrious remark about my employer that happened to also reflect negatively on me,” said Tombs.

Rainbow Dash waggled her ears and tried to clean one with her hoof.

“Bwa huh?”

“You called him *ahem* ‘gay’ and implied that he and I were involved romantically.”

“Yeah? What of it?”

“I merely find it surprising that a fillyfooler such as yourself has the brass balls to originate such a hypocritical implication.”

Rainbow Dash was in Tombs’s face before the image of her standing in the theater door could fade from his retinas, giving him a brief impression of two Rainbow Dashes. The closer one was extremely pissed.

“What did you say?” she growled.

“You heard me, fillyfooler,” said Tombs, unflinching.

“Where do you get off calling me a fillyfooler?”

“Well, you fly like one, for one thing,” he said “You were once so distracted by some filly’s flank that you didn’t look where you were going and crashed into a tanker truck full of liquid rainbow, causing more than fourteen thousand bits in damages.”

“How do you know about that?” Rainbow Dash asked, slightly panicked “And I wasn’t distracted by her flank!”

“So you’re more into hocks, then? Or is it a nice set of withers that get your motor wet?”

“Shut up! Why’re you hassling me?”

“Aren’t you a little old for Daring Do films?” he continued, looking over her shoulder at the marquee on the Ponyville Cinestar “Or maybe you’re just a dedicated Sophia Sorrel fan?”

“Hey! I watch it for the plot! It’s very sophisticated!”

“And firm?”

“Yes, and firm… Hey!”

“Face it, Dash, you’re a fillyfooling faggot. Everypony can see it.”

“I’m not a faggot!” she shouted, flaring her wings. Traffic in front of the Cinestar slowed to watch the commotion. Scootaloo saw what was going on and gasped, zipping away to find help.

“You’re gonna get me angry in a minute, bub,” she poked his chest with her hoof.

“What’s a prismatic poofter like you gonna do about it?” Tombs poked her back.

“I’m gonna paint the town with your guts if you don’t shut up is what I’m gonna do!”

“You’re one to talk about guts when you’re too scared to admit the real reason you got kicked out of flight school!”

SPANG!

Tombs’s vision swam with stars. He realized he was lying on his side. Rainbow Dash stood over him, teeth clenched, her barrel heaving with anger.

“Maybe I was wrong; you don’t kick like a dyke,” he said, spitting a little wad of pink-tinged saliva into the dirt “Maybe you should call your gryphon friend, Gilda. I bet she knows how to buck like a real-”

KRAK!

Rainbow Dash’s next blow caught Tombs on the shoulder, sending him rolling out into the street.

“Nothing happened between me and Gilda!”

“Then” he coughed “Why’d you both get hauled before the Board of Discipline for fraternization?”

“Who’s been telling you these things!?” Rainbow yelled.

“Everypony knows,” said Tombs, rising on unsteady legs.

“Everypony’s wrong! I’m not a fillyfooler! That’s not even why I got kicked out!”

“That’s true, you got kicked out for showboating. Who were you trying to impress?”

“Nopony!”

“Was it Gilda?”

“No!” Rainbow shouted, pawing the ground, lowering her head to charge.

“Was it Fluttershy?” he yelled.

SKABLOOIE!

Rainbow Dash charged him, jamming her forehead beneath his chin and slamming upwards, spinning Tombs through the air and landing him on his back. He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up on one hoof, breathless. Still conscious.

“You were trying to show off for her!”

“No I wasn’t!”

Watch me do a loop-the-loop, Fluttershy!

“You love to make her smile!”

“No, I don’t!” she advanced on him.

Watch me dive, Fluttershy!

“You live to hear her cheer!”

“Shut up!” she spun on her hooves, exposing her hind legs.

You’re so amazing, Rainbow Dash! Woohoo!

“You broke the sound barrier for her!”

“AAARGH!”

Rainbow’s kick caught Tombs square in the stomach. The force of her blow lifted him through the air and sent him sailing through the window of a drug store, shattering the glass and sending him sprawling across the counter.

“So what if I did!?” screamed Rainbow Dash “I still broke it! I still made the Sonic Rainboom! I made it for her but I still made it!”

The dam burst. Tears streamed down her face. Fluttershy was the most beautiful mare who ever lived! Anypony who couldn’t see that was a damn fool! Why had she spent so much time denying it?

“Rainbow Dash, what’s going on?”

Twilight Sparkle galloped to her, Scootaloo buzzing at her heels, her little scooter kicking up a trail of dust.

Pinkie Pie and Rarity ran to the scene as well.

Rainbow Dash couldn’t answer. She curled into a rainbow-colored ball and sobbed in the middle of the street as the crowd gathered around her.

“Rainbow, are you alright?” Pinkie, Twilight and Rarity did their best to disperse the crowd and console their friend. Pinkie looked around, panicked.

“Where’s Tombs?”

“Pinkie Pie, honestly!” barked Rarity “Focus on something important for once!”

Pinkie didn’t listen. Her Pinkie sense was tingling something awful. Her knees were pinchy and she didn’t like it at all.

“Tombs!” she called. Twilight frowned.

“Pinkie!” she hissed. Rainbow Dash was bawling like a foal, there was a crowd of restless ponies all around and Pinkie Pie was choosing now to spout her nonsense?

Pinkie spotted the shattered window of the drugstore.

“Move it!” she bellowed, shoving her way through the crowd.

Her hooves crunched on the glass inside. Tombs lay sprawled across the counter like a ragdoll. Mr. Rolaid, the druggist, was feverishly trying to sanitize his cuts with a bottle of iodine and a cotton swab.

“Tombs!” she pushed Mr. Rolaid aside and put her hooves up on the counter.

“Tombs, are you okay?” she shook him. He didn’t respond. His breaths were so shallow.

“Get an ambulance!” she yelled over her shoulder at Rolaid “Get an ambulance now!”

Pinkie turned back to Tombs.

“Please be okay, please be okay…”

***

Tombs was still unconscious when they reached the hospital. Lights strobed by overhead as the EMTs rushed Tombs’s gurney through the halls of Ponyville General. Pinkie galloped behind the gaggle of nurses keeping Tombs alive. A nurse unicorn in a white hat and smock used her magic to pump a plastic bulb full of air into Tombs’s lungs at regular intervals.

“Why isn’t he breathing?” Pinkie begged.

“Someone get her out of here…” Doctor Stable ordered in a businesslike tone.

“No! I have to be with him!” she struggled against the nurses.

“It could be internal trauma…” muttered the doctor “But we don’t even know where to start. He’s been beaten all over. I don’t know if it’s a piece of glass somewhere or…”

Pinkie’s ears perked up.

“He’s had surgery on his lower intestine! Check his stomach!” she yelled over the shoulders of Nurses Redheart and Whiteheart.

Doctor Stable brushed the hair on Tombs’s stomach aside. The flesh was a sickly patch of red and purple spreading from a scarlet arc roughly resembling the tread on the bottom of Rainbow Dash’s athletic horseshoes.

“Go get Doctor Lancet, have him prepped for surgery, now!” he commanded. A small filly, barely more than a foal in a nurse’s uniform nodded and scampered off on her mission.

Pinkie’s knees were still pinchy.

***

Things weren’t going well. Pinkie’s information may have saved Tombs from dying on the examination table, but everything they could do was only delaying the inevitable.

“The damage is too extensive,” said Dr. Lancet “the wound’s turned septic, we’re gonna lose him if we don’t get this shit cleaned out!”

Seconds stretched like hours as the doctors worked frantically, but it was stacking sandbags against a rushing river. Dr. Lancet’s long, narrow horn flickered and flashed, casting out magic with the fine-tuned precision of a concert violinist. There couldn’t be any distractions…

The doors of the operating theater burst open.

“Back away and drop the knife!

I can save this pony’s life!”

Zecora stood in the doorway, the saddlebags across her back drooped with gourds and herbs.

“Who let that Zebra in here?” demanded Dr. Lancet. Outside, the orderlies who had been watching the door lay unconscious in a settling cloud of sparkling pink dust.

“I’ll say again, if you act quick

I’ll solve your problem in a tick!”

Zecora strode to the center of the operating theater and stood over Tombs, chanting something in Zebrican. The nurses stood by, frozen, unsure what to do.

“What’s going on here?” asked the doctor again.

Zecora reached into her pack and brought out a fat gourd that sloshed with liquid. She dumped it unceremoniously into Tombs’s open viscera. The purple fluid stank to high heaven and splashed out onto the operating table, staining the white wax paper and cushions a dark purple.

“No! You’re insane!” Lancet reached out to stop her.

“Let her help!” Twilight Sparkle trotted in, accompanied by Pinkie Pie and the rest of her friends. Blueblood and Big Mac craned their necks to see.

“Oh, Tombs!” Blueblood was nearly as distraught as Pinkie Pie. He sniffed back coltly tears for his injured comrade.

Zecora continued her cryptic chanting; it had reached a fever pace now. She was muttering so fast that even a speaker fluent in Zebrican couldn’t have followed her words. She reached into her other pack and brought out the black needle and silver thread.

“Thread this needle, I request

You will see this way is best.” She instructed the doctor.

Lancet hesitated.

“Do it, please!” urged Pinkie Pie.

“Hang in there, Tombs,” said Applejack, pulling her hat down over her heart.

“Tombs, I’m so sorry!” Rainbow sobbed.

Doctor Lancet used his magic to thread the needle and gave it back to Zecora. They worked together to close up the wound, first in his ruptured intestine, and then in the flesh of his stomach. Zecora stitched furiously, her eyes intense, the world beyond Tombs and the frantic flitting of her mouth did not exist. There wasn't much thread left. The last inch disappeared from the spool just as Zecora tied off her work. There wasn’t a centimeter to spare.

Dr. Lancet was furious.

“I don’t know what you all think you’re doing, but you’ve just killed this pony!” he shouted at them. Twilight looked nervously around at her friends. They looked to Zecora, desperation in their eyes.

Zecora’s only response was to point to Tombs’s heart rate monitor.

The glowing green bug flittered across the oscilloscope.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

His heart rate was erratic, but stabilizing. Within minutes Tombs was breathing softly, but steadily, his heart beating as if merely in a deep sleep.

Dr. Lancet was agog.

“What did you do?” he rubbed his eyes with his hooves.

“I’ve saved this pony once before,

Though it was fifteen years ago, or more.”

“But, how!?”

“Look and see the magic thread,

it’s the reason he’s not dead.”

Lancet and the Nurses gathered around the unconscious Tombs. They peered close at the shaved patch where they’d cut him open. The seam of Zecora’s stitch work traced a silver line across his stomach. The cut between the stitches was healing before their very eyes, the skin sealing and the mottled, bloody flesh beneath clearing up like fog in the sun. Even the bruising around the area had decreased. Before long, no sign of his injuries in that area would remain except a thin, white scar that looked like railroad tracks.

Zecora pulled some berries and herbs out of her packs and started to mash them, making a poultice to tend to Tombs’s other injuries. Lancet didn’t try to stop her.

“Zecora… how?” he begged “What is that thread? Where can we get more? Do you know how many lives we could save?”

Zecora nodded, gravely.

“Wondrous is Ananse’s magic

We just used his last. Tragic.”

“What does that mean?” asked Twilight.

Zecora sighed and continued to tend Tombs’s injuries. At length, she spoke.

“Your Princess has a soul of beauty

She did what she felt was her duty.

For we were by her presence awed

And Ananse was a jealous god.

He raised a cry against your throne

And into war, our lives were blown.

In the middle, I was caught

I hated war, and yet I fought.

My tribe did not balk at the cost

We threw the dice. They rolled. We lost.

Ananse fell that awful morn

From his husk, his powers torn.

The miracle you saw today?

A souvenir I took away.”

Everypony spent some time pondering Zecora’s words. Only Twilight showed any understanding.

“Ohmygosh!” she said “You were at the Battle of the Five Armies!”

Zecora nodded.

“Then that means…”The End of Chapter 16

To Be Continued…