Twilight soared over the east orchard. A mid-morning breeze rustled the leaves of the trees below as she caught sight of her friend. Banking into a spiral descent, she floated in for a landing. Applejack’s back hooves connected with a sturdy tree trunk and the resulting rain of apples filled the strategically placed bushel baskets below.
“Good morning, Applejack,” Twilight began with a smile. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you and Blueblood were doing. I hadn't heard anything for a while and I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“He’s not here,” Applejack said with a grunt as she bucked into a second trunk. “I put him on the train to Canterlot first thing this morning.”
Twilight drew back warily. “Is something wrong? Did you have a fight?”
“Nope.” Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “He’s all reformed, so he went home.”
“He what?!” Twilight squealed in shock. “How did that happen?”
Applejack reached under her hat and pulled out the scroll of instructions which she tossed over to Twilight. “See for yourself.”
Twilight read through the list in the blink of an eye. Pausing at the end, she questioned, “Why is the last line written in black ink and the rest in gold?”
“Because he’s not done takin’ care of that one yet.” Applejack just smiled as Twilight’s brain kicked into rational overdrive.
“So, you lied to me?”
“Never!” Applejack sneered at the notion. “Blueblood’s as flipped around as winter turned summer. He just wanted to get back home and tie off some loose ends. I got a feelin’ that last line’s about to light up like the rest any moment now.”
“I've known Blueblood for years and he’s always been a huge—royal—pain in the flank.” Twilight rubbed at her temple trying to ease the pain of an equation that wasn't adding up. “How did you do it?”
Applejack burst out in full on laughter. “I can’t take all the credit. He was the one making the changes. After a couple days of honest work, he turned out to be one of the best workingponys we’ve ever had on the farm. Actually, I’m kind of sad to see him go. All he wanted this morning was a bucket of carrots and scrawny potatoes he dug up himself plus a little help getting’ on the train.”
“That doesn't make any sense.” Twilight struggled with the idea of a reformed Blueblood given her recent encounter. “Are you sure he’s not faking it?”
“Sure as I’ll ever be. Even wrote a note to the Princess saying as such.” Applejack waved Twilight toward the farmhouse and started walking in that direction. “Don’t believe me, you can ask the family—I even have a letter that he wrote for you saying how sorry he was.”
Twilight followed along still mired in thought. “You've got to tell me everything that happened. I’m going to need to write a paper on this.”
Applejack just smiled and kept on walking.
It took a little coaxing, but Blueblood eventually won over Celestia. Applejack’s letter certainly helped seal the deal. Fresh off the morning train, he had raced to the throne room and begged for a chance to make things right. Hesitantly, she granted his request—if for nothing more than sheer curiosity to see how things would play out.
The time arrived and the anxious Prince stood to the side of the dining hall table. Having made a valiant effort at setting three seats for lunch, he awaited his guests. Celestia watched from the shadows on a balcony overlooking the hall.
From the far doors, a stallion in a royal guard tunic and a mare in a stunning blue-silk gown approached. Sweat began to bead on Blueblood’s forehead. Sir Lighthoof and Bluebell, the junior cook’s assistant, looked nervous as well. Steadily, they inched their way forward.
“Thank you for coming,” Blueblood stammered with the best smile he could muster. “Please, have a seat.” He moved to hold the chair for Bluebell as she slid into place at the head of the table. Her eyes remained fixed on the royal guard hoping that he would come to her rescue at the first sign of trouble. Sir Lighthoof kept watch of Blueblood as he and the Prince each took to their respective chairs.
An awkward silence fell over the trio as the new arrivals sat perplexed, eager and waiting to hear the reason for their summons. The odd pairing of potatoes and carrots resting on their plates added to the general confusion.
Blueblood took a deep breath. “First, I want to say I’m sorry.” The hard part done, he felt some relief as he continued. “I've been asleep, but my eyes are open now. I’m sorry I didn't wake sooner. Can you both find it in your hearts to forgive me—especially you, Miss Bluebell?”
If ever there was a time where the word dumbfounded fit, this was it. Lighthoof and Bluebell couldn't believe what they had just heard. An apology from the Prince was like Twilight failing a test—it never happened. Amid their confusion, a slight nod of the head signaled their joint witness of the miracle.
Blueblood glanced down at the plates and pointed to the food. “Next, I made you lunch. I hope you like it—I dug it up and cooked it all myself.”
Bluebell couldn't contain herself any longer. “Like, from the ground?!” she screeched.
“Straight from the fields of Sweet Apple Acres, fresh this morning,” Blueblood beamed.
“But you never get your hooves dirty…” Bluebell was beside herself in the midst of a minor panic attack. “This is too much; I can’t take anymore. Who are you, and what have you done with Prince Blueblood?”
Blueblood drew back, cowering a bit from the assault. “I hope you like your dress. I paid extra to make sure it matched your coat.”
“You paid? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Bluebell fainted. Sir Lighthoof jumped to her side and kept her from slipping to the ground.
“Is that a yes?” Blueblood peered over the top of his hooves which had shot up in self-defense on instinct.
Shaking her head, she propped herself up on the arm of the chair. “Just… Give me a minute,” Bluebell huffed as she came around.
Sir Lighthoof gently stroked her mane. “It is a lovely color. Very fine work indeed.”
Following the shock and subsequent processing of the situation, Lighthoof returned to his seat. Bluebell wanted to know more. “How in the hay is this possible?”
Blueblood thought for a moment. He wanted to make sure he could verbalize what he felt in his heart. Looking Bluebell straight in the eyes, he answered, “It all boils down to this—I was a carrot that thought he was too good for the potato. I see now that I was wrong.”
Bluebell stared back in wonder. “I never thought I’d see the day.” Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and stabbed a potato from her plate. Holding out the bite, she waited for the Prince. Blueblood leaned forward and partook of her offering. The not-so-well-cooked potato crunched in his teeth, but he swallowed it anyway. Bluebell smiled. “How about you let me do the cooking next time?”
“How about you teach me how to cook?” Blueblood smiled back.
“How about I leave you two alone?” Sir Lighthoof stood up from the table and turned to walk away.
“Aren't you going to stay for lunch?” Blueblood inquired.
“Sorry, but I already ate—Your Majesty.” Sir Lighthoof bowed to the Prince and made to take his leave.
Blueblood shook his head. “No need to call me that—my friends call me Blue.”
Sir Lighthoof glanced back at the pair. “Works for me—Blue.” He smiled and trotted off toward the door leaving the couple to themselves.
Blueblood called out to the departing guard, “Spread the word. I want the whole castle to join us for lunch from now on. Everypony deserves to be treated like royalty!”
Sir Lighthoof just shook his head as he left the dining hall. The stallions back in the barracks were never going to believe him until they saw it with their own eyes.
Up on the balcony, Luna strode up next to Celestia and yawned. “Art thou going to restore our nephew’s magic now?”
“It can probably wait for later.” Celestia peered down at the happy couple now laughing and daring each other to eat another bite of the ill-prepared meal. “I wouldn't want to interrupt them right now.”
“Then tell me this, why must you make a point of turning the black ink, gold? Why not silver?”
“That’s just silly, sister. Who’s ever heard of the Royal Silver Rules?” Celestia grinned and patted Luna on the head. “And, just so we’re clear, he’s our fourth cousin, fifty-two times removed.”
“I know. Princess Twilight keeps reminding me. Couldn't we change that by royal decree?”
“I don’t think the Royal Family Tree would survive another decree like that, dear sister.” Celestia reached down and rubbed her growling stomach. “I’m hungry. What do you say we go get something to eat?”
“As long as it’s not carrots—the royal cook was serving them for every meal, so I had to banish the little orange beasts from the kitchen last week.”
“Agreed,” Celestia replied. “We may need to do the same thing with the potatoes now too.”
Back on a farm in Ponyville, the words Treat others like you want to be treated burst into flame and consumed the royal instructions.