//------------------------------// // Fancy Pants' Freedom // Story: Stallions on Strike! // by Aegis Shield //------------------------------// Stallions on Strike Part 6: Fancy Pants’ Freedom Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash arrived at the Golden Oaks library at roughly the same time for their weekly get-together. It was something new each week, anything from a tabletop game of Ponies and Castles to a potluck dinner. This week was supposed to be a sleepover. Applejack knocked on the door as the group chattered amongst themselves. The loud talking and laughter immediately halted, however, when they saw who came and answered the door. “Rawrgh?” a black stallion with a demonic aura stood in the doorway, staring at them. They stared back. There was a long, awkward silence. Leaning, Rainbow Dash quickly closed the door in his face. Sombra blinked in confusion. He was the one standing inside the treehouse— wasn’t the pony inside supposed to be the one doing things like that? He was confused.The five mares looked at each other, standing pressed around the library’s stoop. Had they just suffered a group hallucination? They nodded resolutely, denying what they’d just seen. Applejack rubbed her eyes a bit, then knocked again. There was a pause, then same tall dark stallion answered the door again. This time he looked at each of them in turn. Oh. He recognized them. “Snargh-rawr--!” he started, but Rainbow shut the door in his face again, more quickly that time. The mares looked at each other, still not believing. Well, third time was the charm. Applejack knocked again, hoping for Twilight or Spike this time. There was a rude growl inside, and Sombra thrust the door open. “Rawrgh snarrrr?!” he snapped angrily. “King Sombra!” Rainbow Dash was aloft and in his face before anypony else could speak. “What’re YOU doing here?! Where’s Twilight?! What have you done with her?!” Sombra shrugged, stepping aside so they could see. Twilight was sprawled on the sofa, napping with a book over her face. Spike didn’t seem to be around. “Well… everything looks okay…” Fluttershy said softly, leaning in the doorframe to get a better look. “Did he just… randomly decide to come visit?” “I invited him, it’s all okay!” Spike said, coming from the kitchen. “He’s here to be the spokespony for the Stallions on Strike!” “You mean those loonies making a pile of horseshoes out on the street?” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, gesturing mildly over her shoulder. Everypony craned their necks to see. Sure enough, there was a stallion gathering up working-horseshoes in a pile in the middle of the road. He had a sign next to him that read ‘Cast off the oppression! Get rid of your horse shoes here!’ Now and then a stallion would wander by, and gladly lift one hoof at a time to be rid of his ‘mare-given iron burdens’. Rainbow Dash wrinkled her nose. She liked bare-hooved stallions as much as the next mare, but you didn’t just go down the street like that! It was unsightly! “C-come on in, girls.” Twilight rose finally, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Sombra moved to let them in, shutting the door behind him. They eyed him warily, but he only eyed them back. “I know, I know, Sombra.” She gestured a bit to him. “You’re looking well for someone that’s just come from prison, darling.” Rarity rushed to hug her friend, and the others pressed in around her. “I heard all about it! Isn’t Spike a minor? Shouldn’t they have arrested that group of stallions for wandering off with him?!” “I don’t know.” Twilight said miserably, not wanting to be reminded of the moment. “Y’all shouldn’t be zappin’ no stallions, though, hope ya learnt yer lesson.” Applejack said seriously. Twilight wilted under her gaze, nodding solemnly. “What was it like in prison? Did you get a tattoo? Did you have to share a cell with anypony?” Rainbow Dash wanted to know, zipping around the room until she settled on the couch. The group filed into the room, taking up their usual positions around the hearth. “Did you have an ‘extreme companion’?” she made air quotes. Twilight scowled, but the cyan mare only laughed. “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it!” “Spike seems okay, did you guys make up?” Fluttershy shifted the subject quickly before anypony got offended. “Yeah.” Twilight nodded, smiling a bit. Spike did the same, throwing an arm around his mistress as she settled on the rug in front of the fire. “He’s going to enroll for school in the fall. We’re making a few changes around here.” She looked a little bashful, but having been served a pretty big piece of humble pie recently it was hard not to. “I guess I just wasn’t thinking about it, always making Spike do all the housework and cooking and stuff. I just got so wrapped up in my own stuff, I wasn’t being considerate.” “Tell me about it!” Pinkie Pie said, poking her head out from under the couch. “Mr. Cake went off on us too! Now we’ve got the chores all split up between him and Mrs. Cake and I? Now he’s all happy-sappy again!” she grinned. They cocked their heads as Pinkie told them all about how Big Mac had come over, recruited Mr. Cake, and they’d started the madness outside. So, for a safer and happier home, the dynamics of the Cake herd had been changed for the better… hopefully. “It’s no fun doing chores twice a week, but you know what they say!” she paused for effect, then put on a southern accent. “If the stallion ain’t happy, ain’t nopony in the herd happy!” she broke into giggles after that. “We can’t not have a happy herd at Sugar Cube Corner!” “Big Mac’s the one that started all this.” Fussed Applejack, frowning deeply. “Ah don’t know what happened. He just got up one morning with his yoke all in a wad, and decided to go to war on us mares!” She took off her hat, adjusted it a bit, then slapped it back on. “Ah ought’a drag him back home, but ah don’t know where he’s gone half’a the time.” It was true. The ever-growing bachelor herd was always on the move, and even with a stallion as big as Big Macintosh, it was hard to pick him from the crowd. Already, stallions were starting to arrive from far and wide to join the cause. Word was travelling fast, and there seemed to be a few more male ponies in town than before. “So long as you do it peacefully.” Twilight added quickly. “I wouldn’t want two of us to be arrested.” She shivered a little. “Ah dun tried to pull Big Mac’s plow, but ah ain’t sturdy enough to.” Applejack admitted, sighing. “It would take two mares at least to pull that thing around, much less at the same speed he does. A strong stallion ain’t easy to replace.” The orange farming pony cast her eyes to the floor in serious thought. “He can’t just not work, though, that ain’t fair to nopony. It’s not a good example for Applebloom, either, not doin’ his job.” The group nodded a bit in agreement. Complaining was fine, but quitting entirely was not, they reasoned. King Sombra watched the little group with a neutral expression, sitting on his haunches in an armed chair. He didn’t want to interrupt, he wanted to learn what the general attitude was around here when it came to stallions. Thus far he’d not been impressed. Stallions forming protest groups, waving angry signs and quitting their jobs en masse was never a healthy sign. He tilted his head, listening quietly while the conversation steered back and forth. The mail in Ponyville had slowed down, the trains were all done, litter was not being seen to, and general building repair was falling behind as well. In other words, all the stallion-work was piling up. Sombra wondered what the breaking point would be. =-----=-----=-----=-----= Prince Blueblood and Fancy Pants sat in front of a large vanity. In front of them was a complex make-up kit. It looked like a fishing tackle-box, but was filled with powders and paints instead of hooks and sinkers. Half of its little drawers and flaps were open, displaying everything it had to offer. Blueblood sighed quietly, dabbing Fancy Pants’ brow. “Does that hurt?” he asked quietly. “No no, keep going.” Fancy mumbled, hunching a little and batting his eye. “We can stop if it hurts too much. Stay inside, you know?” Blueblood levitated the application brush away to check his work. Fancy Pants fixed him with a look, and the Prince sighed softly. Leaning, he continued. The mustached stallion rubbed his muzzle a little, trying to stay upright on the little stool he was on. Fancy shook his head a little, fighting down a shudder. “I’m expected at one of the derby parties tomorrow. If I don’t go ponies will talk. Fleur will be… angry.” He mumbled, looking at the floor instead of the mirror. Blueblood stopped, setting the brush down. The white, golden-maned stallion sat next to his friend, rubbing his back slowly. For all his power as a Prince, if Fancy didn’t come forward with his problems there was nothing he could do. He’d been trying for months to make the poor thing fess up and tell a member of the guard or something about his problems. But the laws of Canterlot were straight from the horse’s lips. If you yourself didn’t complain, there was no case. Somepony else couldn’t complain for you. Not even for one’s abusive wife. “Why don’t you leave her, huh?” “I can’t.” Fancy said softly, shuddering as the back-rub became a one-armed embrace. “She takes care of me, and gives me a home and money and anything I need!” he looked over at Blueblood, trying not to break down again. If he wept, the make-up would be ruined and they’d have to start all over again. “She also gave you that.” The stallion raised his friend’s chin so he would look at himself in the mirror. They weren’t done painting his face, so it was still easy to see the black eye Fleur de Lis had given him last night. “Sh-she lives a stressful life! She’s an actress and a super model and of noble breeding. I’m sure I was just one more thing wrong with her day, whatever I did. She’s a good mare, she is!” Fancy said, defending his abuser. Blueblood pitied him, shaking his head a little sadly. Someday, hopefully, he would weedle it out of him to go to the guard about all this. “She’s a monster is what she is…” Blueblood mumbled, lifting his wineglass from the vanity and downing it easily. He went to set it down again, but paused. The newspaper he’d been using as a coaster had a rather odd headline. ‘Stallions on Strike Continues: Ponyville Erupts for Royal Petition!’ He picked it up, scanning the article. The picture was of a giant mound of horse shoes, mixed with hay, being burned on a street corner somewhere. It was surrounded by stallions holding angry signs, glaring right at the camera. “Fancy.” he said slowly, prodding the picture. “Huhm?” said the stallion, leaning to find something of a brighter white to cover up his wound. “I think we should visit Ponyville.” Blueblood’s smile got wider and wider. Fancy turned, gaping at the article. Both of them read it three times each. “A royal petition takes twenty-five thousand signatures. That’s a lot of stallions.” Blueblood said carefully. “Just imagine all the food and lodging and other resources they’ll be consuming, just sitting around in that town.” The Prince said hypothetically. “Why, it would be positively criminal to let such a noble group starve or sleep on the ground while they’re doing all this!” Fancy slowly looked up, into his friend’s eyes. Not one friend, Blueblood’s grin said. Not ten friends either. Twenty-five thousand friends, maybe some of them abuse victims as well—all gathering into one spot to make change happen? “How can we pass it up…?” Fancy Pants whispered softly, stroking his chin. This was too perfect. This was fantastic. Even Fleur de Lis could not penetrate a herd twenty-five thousand strong! Heaving a drawer open, Fancy grabbed a razor and sheared his tiny mustache off. Blueblood gaped at him. “I only grew it because Fleur liked it.” He said. “You rebel.” The Prince chuckled, nodding. “C’mon, let’s pack.” Less than an hour later, the two of them snuck out a side door. Using side roads down into the lower part of Canterlot, they hopped on a train bound for Ponyville. Fancy had wiped off the make-up with a wet rag before they’d left. The black eye was a deep, ugly purple after all the layers of paint had been scrubbed away. It was painful to look at. More than a few stallions eyed him on the way there. They seemed to understand. They knew what that mark meant, especially on a high-society stallion, heading for Ponyville. That was a stallion on strike. =-----=-----=-----=-----= Hours later, the train pulled in and emptied out. Almost all the riders were male. They poured onto the platform, then filtered out into the town. “Jeez I’m hungry!” on stallion declared to his friends. “We’ve gotta find a place to settle first!” said another. “I wanna start protesting now, though!” whined a third, already holding a ‘down with the mare’ sign. “Looks like the hotels are full, jeez this place is tiny!” someone complained. “I don’t have much pocket money left. We may have to graze in the park, sweetheart.” A pair of male life-partners wandered by, leaning into each other tenderly. Prince Blueblood and Fancy Pants snuck out, both wearing sunglasses to be incognito. They were nobles, after all, they didn’t want to get mobbed. “What do we do now?” Fancy asked Blueblood, pulling off his sunglasses once they’d melted into a crowd on the street. “Now, we stir the pot and see what happens. You heard what half of those stallions were saying. Everypony is hungry!” said Blueblood bravely. Turning into a building that looked like a life-size gingerbread house, the two of them found it to be a bakery and sweet shop. “Sugar Cube Corner.” The Prince read off of the sign above the door. “Hmm!” Fancy followed him, peering around with interest. They went inside and the little bell above the door rang merrily. There was a knobby-kneed yellow stallion behind the counter, busily working with an arrangement of chocolates on a tray. He was humming loudly, and seemed to be positively delighted with what he was doing. Prince Blueblood approached, clearing his throat a little for attention. “Hullo there.” He greeted. “Heya!” the pony behind the counter smiled. “Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner, what can I getcha?” Mr. Cake eyed both of them as they checked the displays and looked at the menus mounted on the walls. “Well, what’s the occasion?” he offered. “Maybe I can help you pick something.” Both stallions looked around like they might have someone following them. They motioned the shopkeeper forward to whisper. They checked over their shoulders before speaking softly. “Stallions… on strike!” Fancy whispered “Oh! More brothers to the cause!” Mr. Cake was delighted. “Well, we’ve got all sorts of breads, cakes, pies. Do you like heavy pies? They’re more filling if you’re going to be here a while.” The stallion seemed excited to see them, all of a sudden! “We’ll have twenty of your heaviest pies then!” Blueblood decided, reaching into his vest and producing a royal platinum card. He slapped it onto the counter. He was royalty, after all, he had an unlimited line of credit. Fancy looked at the card with envy, but chuckled none the less. Mr. Cake gaped at him, then at the card. Twenty pies?! Just like that?! His eyes watered. His pupils dilated until they took up most of his eyes. “R… really? Twenty?” he mewled a little, like he were about to burst into happy sobs. “Yes!” Blueblood said, nodding to make it official. “We’ll take one, and I want you to give the other nineteen away to any stallion that wanders near here, hungry because he’s striking with the rest of us!” “Thank you!” exploded Mr. Cake, practically sobbing. He was going to make pies! Not clean the kitchen and move boxes, but make actual edible pies! He’d never been so happy. “Thank you thank you thank you! I’ll get started right away! Come back in… ohh, an hour or so, for the first one!” he was already dashing away to the kitchen. “HONEY!” he shouted. “Start the ovens! I’ve got a biiiiiig order!” “There’s a stallion that loves his job.” Blueblood marveled as they stepped out onto the street again. He and Fancy chuckled merrily, letting the door shut behind him. “Now then, what other trouble can we get into?” said the young Prince rebelliously, waving his platinum card about dangerously. “Prince.” said Fancy Pants, stopping suddenly. “Huhm?” “You said you’re striking, but… why? You’re a Prince! Shouldn’t you be happy with your lot in life?” Fancy Pants asked him. The reality settled in rather quickly. Prince Blueblood was not married, had money and status in Canterlot and everything a pony could ask for. Why exactly was he out here ‘stirring the pot’, as he put it? “Somepony has to look after you of course!” Blueblood said haughtily, giving his golden mane a toss. “We can’t let another mare just step up and oppress you, right?” he gave his most dazzling smile, and Fancy laughed. “Help-help, I’m being oppressed!” Fancy put on a shrill voice, leaning into him for aid. Both laughed. "Save me, my handsome Prince charming!" Blueblood clapped him on the back, grinning as they continued down the street. End of Part 6