“So… then what happened?” Applejack asked.
“We— I galloped away, thinking my revenge completed,” Luna replied. “Unfortunately, the damage turned out to be deeper than I expected.”
“Wait a second,” Applejack said. “You hate apples?” she asked, turning to me, as I took a long drink of orange juice to wet my throat. “Don’tcha hate mayo—“
“SILENCE!” Luna boomed. I spat all of the orange juice into the side of Luna’s face, which did nothing for her mood. Applejack hid her giggling behind a hoof while Luna calmly wiped the juice off with her magic. My stomach rumbled threateningly. “Do not even speak of that substance in Celestia’s presence. Even the mere mention of it is enough to incapacitate her.”
Applejack grinned and said, “So, Ah kin make her lose her lunch jus’ by sayin’ m-unff—!”
Luna stuffed a hoof into Applejack’s mouth, silencing her instantly. Bile rose in my throat as I put a hoof to my own mouth to control myself. I didn't have much left in me. “That is correct, Applejack,” Luna continued, “You mustn't even mention the substance or else Celestia shall ‘lose her lunch’ as you put it.”
Still giggling, Applejack composed herself before she asked, “Okay, okay, but what about apples? It sounded like ya loved apples ‘fore ya ate… that.”
I gingerly took another sip of orange juice, swallowed, and set down the crystal cup. I sighed and said, “Yes, but I now associate the smell of apples with that experience. Perhaps you don’t know this, but to taste something is also to smell it. If you could give me an apple without smell, then perhaps I could eat it. Otherwise, keep them away from me.”
Applejack blinked at me, looked at the orange juice, back at me, and then chirped, “You like orange juice!”
“Yes…” I replied without inflection.
“And them nobles follow yer lead, right?” she asked. Her statement oversimplified matters, but…
“Correct. I’m sorry, Applejack. I've tried not to influence the nobility, but after a millennia of eating oranges over apples, well… They took the hint. That’s probably why you’re scraping by in the outskirts of Ponyville, while your aunt and uncle run a successful empire out of Manehatten.” My ears fell when I finished with, “It’s my fault.”
Applejack screwed her face up in thought. She put a hoof to her lips and both eyes rolled upward before she said, “So, if’n Ah cultivate an apple without smell, ya could eat it in public? Ah could try that, ‘course it’ll take years ‘fore—”
“Princess!” Vigilance said, as he slid the glass doors open with magic. “I am sorry to interrupt, but your meeting with Fancypants has run over its allotted time. He has a new proposal for you, which he will discuss with you tomorrow. He left a draft proposal with me and said he would see you tomorrow morning. He also expressed a wish that you feel better soon.” He set down a thick stack of papers next to the orange juice, saluted, and stood at attention.
Applejack looked between Vigilance, Luna, and me. “Uh, ya kin git now. We’re havin’ a private conversation.” Vigilance flicked an annoyed ear at Applejack, but made no other moves.
I lifted the thick stack of papers in my magic while Luna snickered at Applejack. “He shall not leave until dismissed by a princess.” Applejack snorted. Luna turned to Vigilance, nodded, and said, “Thou art dismissed, guard. Oh, and tell the royal chef we shall have a guest for lunch. We should like it served here, on the solar balcony.”
Vigilance’s ears perked up. He bowed low and retreated. When he reached the threshold, he said, “Yes, Princess. Right away.” He closed the glass balcony doors behind him, leaving us with privacy again.
I frowned as I read the contract. Luna sighed and asked, “He’s switched the apples for oranges in the subcontract, hasn't he?”
Without glancing up, I nodded and said, “He has, and if I don’t publicly endorse Applejack by the end of the day…”
Luna shook her head sadly. “You cannot switch back to the apples without the media catching wind of it. It will be the cake fiasco all over again.”
Luna stood and put a wing over me. “How will you endorse her without eating an apple?”
“I don’t know,” I moaned.
“Cake…?” Applejack asked with a tilt of her head.
“Don’t ask,” Luna and I said in unison.
Lunch arrived after a long, awkward silence. None of us could think of a solution. I couldn't simply add Sweet Apple Acres to the contract now. Our meeting in the throne room would be public knowledge. The castle rumor mill probably included the meeting here on the balcony, and possibly the sheets from my bedroom as well. A smart pony would be able to put it all together. My abrupt departure from the throne room had complicated matters.
Not as dicey as things would be had I thrown up on Applejack, but still.
Proper Attire still had that cheerful smile for us when he served lunch and refilled our orange juice. Unsurprisingly, the chef had received word of my reaction to breakfast, and lunch was his method of making up for it. Luna is normally asleep at this time, and I don’t have much time for lunch, so salted crackers, sliced brie, honey, dried cranberries, and almonds are to be expected.
Not today. Today, the three of us received a delightful array of fruits, sliced and dipped in heavy cream; buttered wheat bread on a bed of early cut alfalfa sprouts; and a small chocolate molten cake, with a cherry on top for dessert; no apple products this time. Hunger growled in my stomach because of the ‘incident’ this morning. So when I say I tore into my lunch, I’m not exaggerating much.
Also, cake! I enjoy pie, I like chocolate, I love cake. Don’t get in between me and cake. I’m liable to take your hoof off at the fetlock. Politely of course, as befits a princess, but at the end of the day you’ll still have a bloody stump.
“Whoo-wee! I ain't never seen a pony that hungry since th’ time Big Mac got stuck in the well all day an’ missed breakfast and lunch,” Applejack said, snickering over her own lunch plate. I grinned sheepishly and slowed down. Luna yawned in between bites; normally she’d be snoring away by now. The food helped me think immensely. With the fire in my belly quenched, I asked the question that sat on the back burner of my mind since this morning.
“Luna, dear sister, why were you in my bed, eating my favorite chocolates?” I asked carefully. Now that I had a reasonable amount of food in me, I had the self-control required to keep my voice even, my eyes soft, and my words sweet.
Luna blushed for only a second before she replied loudly, “We believed your bed softer than Ours. And We art correct! Thou hast a better bed; We demand equal or better sleeping accommodations!” Luna blushed again when she realized she had been near a yell. She cleared her throat and said, “We— I want something more comfortable. Not all of us get rest with a normal sleep cycle.”
I smiled while Applejack sipped her orange juice. She gave the glass of juice a look with one brow raised. “I’m sorry you didn't get a bed at least as soft as mine, and you’re right: you deserve the most comfortable bed we can find. In fact, I’ll have it taken care of today. We can switch beds, if nothing else.” I answered Luna’s concern with the empathy I lacked so many years ago. “Perhaps a cloud bed…” I thought out loud. I abruptly turned to Luna again, “And…?” Applejack glanced at the two of us over a mouth full of raspberries and cream.
Luna tilted her head to Applejack and blinked. “And what?” Luna asked.
“What about my Prench chocolates?” I asked.
Luna blushed again, and this time it didn't fade away. “We— I saw them on your nightstand and wondered what this ‘Bon-Bon’ would taste like. I worried that perhaps you planned to eat a pony. When I found the chocolates inside the box I thought perhaps they were named after the pony that created them?” she asked me. I shook my head. Luna’s ears fell and she continued, “Well, after trying one, I couldn't help myself. They tasted too good.”
Applejack stifled a laugh, with limited success, at Luna’s story. I sighed, glanced at my almost-empty lunch plate, smiled, and said, “Fear not, sister. Thy redemption is at hoof… in the form of chocolate cake!” I lifted my dessert with the reverence due a holy relic and bit into it so the chocolate ran down the sides. I used my magic to keep it in the air; I wasn’t going to lose even a single drop or crumb of cake!
Luna yawned again, while Applejack watched me intently. I could feel her gaze on me, but I just didn't care at the moment. I ate the rest of my dessert before Applejack piped up, “Kin ya really help me? With the apple thing, I mean.”
I licked my lips to ensure I had not missed any cake and nodded. “I shall do my best, Applejack. Perhaps I can order apples for the Royal Guard. I still have to deal with those paparazzi though,” I mused, then shook my head. “It doesn't matter; my personal preferences have eroded your family’s chances of a good life. I’ll make up for it now, and the journalists can go to Tartarus.”
Applejack wore a devilish grin when she said, “Princess, Ah have a better idea.”
“SKKnnrkt!” Luna snorted and sat upright, blinking tired eyes. “Wh-What?”
A few hours later.
The media ponies ringed the throne room, pencils and notepads primed and ready. Even Fancypants looked nervous as he adjusted his monocle and glanced around the room. The sun neared the horizon as I began my speech. If it came off as rehearsed, this wouldn't work.
“I-Is it necessary to have the media here? This is only a standard contract negotiation, nothing exciting,” Fancy said, as he swallowed and focused on me. It seemed like he didn’t enjoy the idea of scrutiny any more than I did.
“My little ponies are always welcome here, Fancypants. A transparent government is an honest government,” I said. Okay, showtime. “I've reviewed your latest proposal, and while I agree an increase in the cost of the overall contract is warranted, I would still prefer apples to oranges. Literally, in this case. I believe Sweet Apple Acres qualifies as a small business, while Sweet Oranges Incorporated does not. Our policy is to encourage small businesses whenever possible, and this seems to be an excellent opportunity to do so.”
Fancypants nodded almost imperceptibly. “A capital idea, Princess. However, I understand the shipbuilders’ union is fond of their government-provided c… lunches,” he said, almost slamming head first into the cake debacle. I smiled while a drop of sweat trickled down my mane. I didn't need the press to run another story about gold-plated government contracts given to undereducated ship wrights. Fancypants continued, “As I recall, the debate last time centered on the difference between what you eat, and what the workers in Fillydelphia eat. Is there a new development on that front?”
I had to keep my emotions in check and my face serene. Oh Fancy, if only you knew how easily you played into my hoof. I saw several of the media ponies perk up at this, especially the food critic and fashionista. Last time, this argument devolved to the point that the horrible phrase ‘let them eat cake’ became the law. Now I had a chance to correct that blunder. “I agree— forcing poor, hard-working contractors to eat low-quality food every day while I enjoy the finest cuisine is unfair. So, I would like to prove that my diet consists of the same staples that will be in this contract.” I turned and clapped my hooves at the pony half-hidden behind my throne. “Proper Attire, I think I’ll have a light supper a bit early today.”
Waiting in the wings (my wing, specifically), Proper Attire stepped forward and produced a dish with a flourish, setting it on the hoofrest. I didn't move while he tucked and tied the cloth napkin around my neck and stood back, letting everypony see my evening meal: a dandelion sandwich, a glass of water with a couple of fresh-cut daffodils in it, and an apple.
A shiny, red, juicy, disgusting apple.
I admit it: I hate apples. You too would hate something that just by smelling it caused your stomach to tie itself into a knot. “Mmm-mmm, I sure do love a good apple,” I said, hamming it up. Lifting the fearsome, red fruit to my mouth, I smiled for the media. Silence reigned, and every eye watched me. It’s rare that ponies get to see the Princess do something she’s never done before, even if that thing is just eating an apple.
My stomach did a little pirouette. NO NO NO! I couldn't believe it; even the sight of an apple made my stomach churn. I growled inwardly, Don’t you dare throw up on me, stomach. I’ll throw you in a dungeon, and then banish that dungeon to the moon! Wait… that would put me on the moon, too... Okay, how about I put you on permanent bowel management duty! Err… I guess you already are. Okay-okay, how about, you don’t throw up, and I won’t jam an apple down my throat.
Okay? Good. No apples. Except for, you know, this one. The one I have to eat. With everypony watching...
Sweat beaded on my brow. I swallowed, trying to settle my stomach, and took a big bite. The sound of an apple crunching could easily be heard in the absolute silence of the throne room.
CRUNCH!
The sound seemed deafening to me. I tried not to look at it while I chewed. I kept thinking about cake— moist, fluffy, tasty vanilla cake, with a raspberry filling. I kept chewing, slowly, my teeth breaking up the innards of this red orb. I focused my considerable mental resources into imagining what it would taste like. I swallowed.
“P-Princess? Are you alright? Did you eat a seed?” Fancypants asked with genuine concern. I looked down at the object in my hoof. It appeared to be a misshapen red orb, with a deep bite taken out. White guts shone beneath the crimson skin, and at the center of my deep bite were small, dark, reddish-orange splotches.
Smiling for the media again, I replied, “Oh, I think I did. It’s alright, I don’t mind. I like apples so much I eat them whole, seeds and all.” I grimaced at the thought, then took another big bite before anypony started asking questions. I tried, and succeeded, to bite the lower half of the apple away, core and all. I chewed, tasting something old and new.
I saw Applejack somewhere in the back of the room, between two journalists. She smiled and waved at me as the taste hit my tongue. My eyes went wide with shock.
Oh, please don’t let me throw up again!