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…