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…
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Oh my... are things going to keep getting worse for big mac?
The ending was... Indescribable. Now If you'll excuse me, i need to find my inhaler
Poor Big Mac!
The spell can't really be irreversible, can it?
Well this complicates things. After the huge deal we made over the golden horseshoes, they're just a catalyst and not a spell-holder. I was sure if they took them off, or switched shoes they'd turn back, but now this. Hmm...
I love your story! I added it to TV Tropes fanfic recommendation's shipping folder. Although I'm kind of wondering if it is truly a shipping fic. Hmmm...
356769
Unless they switch with two different ponies, then take turns having everypony switch back into their original bodies.
356933
Wait... switch with more? I have a feeling I can see where this is going if it takes that turn...
356933
lol, sadly I'm not as bright as the Futurama writing team or I might've thought of that
Another great chapter
357178
Thats exactly what I first thought of when I thought of the switching theory.
Princess Cadence got ill will for the Zebras?! And Blueblood is ruining Big Mac's reputation like a fuck!
*Takes off sunglasses, crouches unnecessarily, then stands up.*
I guess you could say, Banana...
*puts on sunglasses with both hands*
Got split.
Not anymore he doesn't! Ha ha!
CRIPES, Dash. The poor guy's only crime was being likeable. Filly can hold a grudge.
Really? I don't know whether I'm more surprised that she thinks that debacle means they're going steady or that she even wants to anymore.
Ah, well. Big Mac did finally get some. His body did, at least.