Chapter XIII
The Prince and the Workhorse
Part XIII
Applejack helped Applebloom out of her pajamas and prepped her for school.
“Aw, c’mon sis! Why’dya wake me up so early every day? School’s not fer hours!” she fussed, squirming at a critical second while Applejack tied her bow, causing it to come out lopsided.
“Applebloom! Hold still! You know I gotta work early and you hafta get yer breakfast.”
It was hard enough tying a bow using just her hooves and teeth without her little sister wriggling like a wiggleworm.
“Can’t Ah get my own breakfast?”
“No, y’can’t”
“But why not?”
“You know why…” Applejack narrowed her eyes. She’d lost an entire morning cleaning up after the last time Applebloom was left to her own devices. The kitchen still smelled like sour milk on hot days, Celestia knew where it was coming from.
(It’s just an expression. Princess Celestia did not, in fact, know where the smell was coming from.)
Applebloom pouted. The delicious smell of fresh waffles wafted up the stairs and tickled the sisters’ noses.
“Somepony’s cookin’ breakfast!” said Applebloom, flaring her nostrils and taking a long sniff.
She hopped off the bed before Applejack could finish with her bow and galloped off downstairs. Applejack followed, rolling her eyes.
Tombs was bustling in the kitchen, wearing Granny Smith’s apron and magically conducting a small waffle assembly line. Applejack dodged a floating eggbeater and trotted into the kitchen. Applebloom was already at the table, bouncing up and down in front of a tall stack of waffles. Granny Smith was awake, too… in her own way.
“Wazzah? Soup’s on?” She mumbled, getting up from her rocking chair and tottering over to the breakfast table. Tombs had already set her a place and cut her waffle into bite-sized chunks.
“Tombs…” stumbled Applejack “This is amazin’! You don’t have to go through all this trouble!”
“It’s no trouble, Miss Applejack. I live to serve.” Tombs bowed low, saluting with his spatula.
“All the same, Ah’m plum grateful, you’ve saved me a lot of time this mornin’”
“Most gratifying to be appreciated, Miss.” He trotted over to where Applebloom mowed through her second waffle and straightened her bow so that it was trim and even on both sides.
Applejack received her own plate and dug in with gusto.
“Delicious, Tombs!”
Tombs nodded again and went back to whisking the batter. He cleaned as he went and no sooner was he finished with a bowl or spoon than it was rinsed and drying in the dish rack. If anything, the kitchen was cleaner than Applejack left it last night.
“Has Big Macintosh been down yet?” Applejack asked, looking around.
“Mister Macintosh has not yet risen, ma’m.”
“Ah don’t know what’s goin’ on with that brother of mine,” she sighed.
“I fear that might be partially our fault, ma’m,” offered Tombs “No doubt Mister Macintosh’s normal rhythms are disrupted from sharing his room with the Prince. I expect they will normalize shortly…”
Or you’ll just get used to having a complete stranger for a brother… he thought.
“We’ll, guess Ah’d better wake him, then,” Applejack downed her glass of orange juice (Tombs had squeezed it fresh that morning) and clattered back up the stairs to wake Big Macintosh.
Applebloom finished her breakfast and dropped down from her chair.
“Thanks Mister Tombs!” she hollered, grabbing her bookbag “Ah hope you stay a good while. If you keep this up, maybe Applejack’ll let me sleep in fer once.”
“We’ll see,” smiled Tombs as she dashed out into the cool early morning.
Tombs cleared the table, moving quietly so as not to disturb Granny Smith. She’d fallen asleep in her seat, smacking her lips and muttering softly.
***
“BIG MACINTOSH!” Applejack hollered "Get up!"
Blueblood jerked awake, fluttering the sleep out of his eyes. What time was it?
Applejack flung a towel at him and it landed on his loins, draping over him like a circus tent.
“And fer Celestia’s sake, cover up,” she barked “The Prince don’t want yer beef silo in his face first thing in th’ mornin’!”
Thank you. Thought Big Macintosh, who’d been having trouble falling back to sleep with his erstwhile equipment looming over him.
Blueblood rolled over onto his belly and hugged the bed self-consciously.
“Get yer yoke on, we’ve lost enough time already. Ah have t’ be up at Buttermilk’s place this mornin’. She needs mah help with the cows today on account of her husband’s twisted leg. Ah reckon the ground’s warm enough fer you t’ get started on clearin’ the stumps in the South Field.”
Blueblood shuddered. Another day laboring under the hot sun? Hauling stumps when he could be back in town enjoying a little Ponyville hospitality? Celestia forbid!
“Shouldn’t I be minding the Apple Stand today?” he asked, hopefully.
“Nope, we need that field fixed up. Consarned Flim Flam Brothers left the whole orchard a mess. We’re gonna have to clear out all those stumps if we’re gonna get new trees planted.”
“B-but!”
“Butts are fer poopin’,” Applejack held up her hoof “Git out there. Ah ‘spect you can get half of ‘em cleared out before sundown if you start now.”
Applejack trotted back down the stairs.
Blueblood sighed. There was no arguing with that one.
That little orange filly is Old Scratch herself he grumbled silently.
Blueblood leaned over the side of the bed. Big Macintosh was laying under the quilt with his eyes half open, he looked up at Blueblood.
“How are you feeling today?” asked Blueblood.
“A little hoarse,” Big Mac whispered.
“You are a little horse,” chuckled Blueblood “Anyway, be careful with my body. If you’re going to insist on getting it sick, the least you could do is take good care of it. Get plenty of rest and fluids. I expect it to be in good condition when I get it back.”
“Eeyub.”
Thanks so much for your concern.
“I’ll see that Tombs gets up here with some hot broth and some tea,” said Blueblood, donning Big Mac’s yoke. He was getting better at manipulating things without magic, but still couldn’t get it to sit quite right.
Big Mac rumbled his sore throat in acknowledgement.
“No need to thank me,” said Blueblood, “I’m off to do your chores. Sleep well!”
He tromped down the stairs.
***
Applejack flipped her favorite hat onto her head and strode out of the barn into the rain…
The rain!?
A torrential downpour, localized entirely on her doorstep, drenched Applejack and flattened her hat to her head. Lightning flashed close by her ear, and she yelped, diving for cover.
A bashful Rainbow Dash peeked out over the edge of the little black stormcloud.
“What in tarnation do you think yer doin’?” demanded Applejack “Have you flipped yer rainbow-striped lid?”
Rainbow Dash laughed nervously.
“I’m really sorry, Applejack. I thought you were Prince Blueblood.”
Applejack flicked a drop of water off her ear and looked nonplussed.
“Now why in the hey would you want t’ give the Prince a soakin’?”
“No reason…”
“Well if yer gonna play pranks, Ah’d prefer you play ‘em somewhere else. Mah farm ain’t yer personal playground, y’know.”
Rainbow Dash huffed and jumped down off the cloud, landing next to Applejack.
“It’s not a prank, it’s revenge! That jerk has it coming,” she stomped.
“Oh? Why?”
“None of your business!” Rainbow snapped “He’s sown the wind and now he’s gonna rape the hurricane!”
“He’s gonna what?”
“Reap! I said he’s gonna reap the hurricane!”
Applejack put a hoof to her chin and tried to concentrate.
“And what did he sow again?” she asked.
“Aaaargh!” Rainbow threw up her hooves “You know what? Nothing! I’m wasting my time!”
“Well, did he do somethin’ or didn’t he?”
“Yes! Well, it was what he didn’t do…” Rainbow scratched her chin.
“And what was that?”
“Yesterday I wanted him t… grah! But he didn’t… uhhhh! and Twilight yelled! And then… and then he kicked me!”
“He kicked you!?” Applejack took a step back.
“Right here!” she stood on her hind legs and showed the horseshoe shaped bruise on her belly, mottled purple beneath the light blue hair of her barrel.
Applejack whisled.
“He got you good, didn’t he? What were you doin’ horsin’ around that he could land you one on the belly like that?”
“Nothing,” she huffed.
Applejack put a hoof on her shoulder, brushing Rainbow’s cheek with the cannon of her foreleg. Her fur was warm and soft. A pricking went up Rainbow’s spine. She lowered her voice and put her muzzle near Rainbow Dash’s ear.
“Did he attack you? Did he touch you? Cuz if he did Ah’ll go in there and haul him out and we’ll both beat him inta glue, guest or no guest. Prince or no prince,” said Applejack, her expression deadly serious.
Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, about to say something she’d regret… but she closed it again. She couldn’t meet Applejack’s eyes.
Applejack sighed.
“Rainbow, if yer not gonna be honest t’ me, at least be honest with yerself. What’s got you in such a tangle?”
Rainbow couldn’t answer. She didn’t know.
“Listen here, Sugarcube. We’ve shed a lot of blood and sweat and tears together. Ah dunno if you know this, but even though I think yer a pain in the butt, Ah still consider you mah best friend…”
Rainbow Dash really couldn’t look Applejack in the eyes now, hers were all watery for some reason.
Applejack continued.
“Maybe you don’t feel like talkin’ right now, but if you ever need somepony to talk to, I’ll be right here, waitin’.”
Applejack put her hoof on Rainbow’s forehead and brushed her gaily-colored bangs out of her face. Rainbow looked up at her, her rose-pink eyes wobbly with tears. A dark-blue streak appeared on her face where a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Do you want me to go get Blueblood?” asked Applejack.
Rainbow Dash wiped her nose.
“No.”
“C’mere…”
Without waiting for her response, Applejack threw her forelegs around Rainbow’s neck and clutched her close. Applejack was still all wet and Rainbow’s coat soaked dark-blue where they touched.
The pegasus accepted the hug numbly. Their cheeks brushed and Rainbow suddenly jerked away. She struggled and stumbled backwards out of Applejack’s embrace, almost tripping over her own hooves.
“I-I gotta go!” she exclaimed, flipping around and tumbling into the air. She landed unsteadily on top of her stormcloud and gripped it with her legs. She took off without another word.
Applejack watched her go.
“That’s one mixed up filly,” sighed Applejack. She pulled her hat down, allowing a small waterfall to spill over the brim onto the dirt.
She didn’t see Tombs disappear back around the corner and into the kitchen.
***
Big Macintosh was snoring heartily when Tombs shimmered up the stairs with a tray of hot soup and tea as the Prince had instructed. He snorted awake at the sound of the tray tinkling on the table.
“Sorry to wake you, sir, but I expect this will help alleviate your indisposition,” said Tombs, levitating the bowl of soup up off the tray.
Big Mac sat up, the action set all kinds of little currents running through his sinuses.
“Thag you, Toobs,” he sniffed.
Tombs fed him a spoonful of the steaming broth. Big Mac sipped it carefully and sighed, his shoulders drooping.
“What am I goig to do, Toobs?” he asked.
“Is this a question about your illness, sir, or some other quandary that has you preoccupied?”
“It’s Twilide Spargle, Toobs,” Big Mac slurped another spoonful of soup “She hades me!”
“If sir will enlighten me as to the details of sir’s predicament, I will of course devote careful consideration towards a satisfactory resolution.”
Big Mac nickered. Where to begin?
He told the story of Rainbow Dash interrupting the friendship lessons with Twilight and her showing off the dirty magazine. Going after her and then splitting off from Twilight Sparkle (“most inadvisable, sir”). Running into Rainbow Dash at Fluttershy’s cottage, trying to talk to her and making progress before Rainbow’s sudden decision to jump his bones just in time for Twilight to see them entangled.
“It sounds like you and Miss Dash were in a most compromising position.”
“Eeyub.”
Tombs pondered the matter while lifting another spoonful of broth to Big Mac’s lips. After a minute or two of Big Mac slurping in silence, he spoke again.
“The ideal solution, it seems, would be to get Miss Dash to explain everything to Miss Sparkle and admit that responsibility for the situation rested entirely upon her with you as the unwilling participant.”
“Well, obviously,” snorted Big Mac. Honestly, he expected better of Tombs by now, maybe he’d overestimated the little valet.
“In order to affect this outcome, sir, we merely have to finish what you’ve already started: solve Miss Dash’s problem.”
“How are we goig to do that?”
“Sir, I can surmise three possible explanations for Miss Dash’s behavior,” said Tombs “Explanation A: Miss Dash was completely overcome by your charms and has fallen madly in love with you.”
Big Mac raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“Explanation B: Miss Dash suffers from an acute case of nymphomania and cannot be trusted around any stallion.”
Big Mac shook his head. He’d never seen nor heard of Rainbow Dash doing anything remotely like this before yesterday.
“Or Explanation C: Miss Dash is experiencing a conflicted sense of self and believes she can only validate her identity and regain control by attaining physical acceptance from the opposite sex.”
Big Mac waggled his ears. He hadn’t understood half of that. Tombs continued.
“A great many things can trigger an emotional conflict. Do you know the nature of Miss Dash’s relationship with her father?”
“Nnobe.”
“She could also be struggling with her sexual identity. Repression of latent homosexuality often expresses itself as unstable or erratic behavior.”
Big Mac shook his head.
“No way,” he said “In fagt, she called me gay!”
“Did she, sir?”
“Eeyub.”
“Interesting,” said Tombs “I shall devote more thought to the matter. In the meantime, drink your tea…”
***
It’s a really glorious day! Thought Marmalade as she skipped down the dirt road to Sweet Apple Acres. She carried a jar of her finest orange preserves in her mouth, wrapped in a red and white checked cheesecloth. It bounced against her throat with every skip. She was bringing it to Big Macintosh.
Birds were signing, the sun was shining and flowers blossomed everywhere. It was a really great day to go see your boyfriend, and when your boyfriend was Big Macintosh, every day was great!
Last night had been magical. Pure animal passion as the two rolled together behind the hay bales. His big body engulfed hers so completely; he was like a fortress of muscle and sinew. A tireless, relentless love machine that throbbed and moved around her, within her, through her! She’d never understood the phrase “the agony of ecstasy and the ecstasy of agony” before that night. It hurt to skip, but she was so happy she didn’t care.
She skipped all the way up to the Apple Family barn and knocked eagerly on the door. It didn’t open instantly so she set her jar of preserves down and knocked again.
“Hello?” she called.
Presently the dapper colt with the moustache and tailcoat she’d seen minding the cart yesterday opened the top half of the door.
“Yes?” he said, stiffly.
“Is Big Mac in?” she stood on tiphooves and craned her neck to see around him.
“Mister Macintosh is out in the fields. I do not anticipate his return before lunchtime.”
Marmalade worked her lower lip in her teeth.
“I brought this for him,” she reached down and grabbed the knot of the cheesecloth in her mouth, lifting the jar up for Tombs to see.
“I’ll see that he gets it, Miss…?”
“Marmalade,” she answered, talking around the cheesecloth “and just who are you?”
“My name is Tombs. I’m Prince Blueblood’s valet.”
“Is that like a butler?”
“No.” Tombs charged the jar with his magic and lifted it out of Marmalade’s mouth “I’ll look after your parcel.”
“Thanks,” said Marmalade, releasing the cloth from her end. She thought better of it and snatched it back up before it could disappear through the door.
“Actually, I’d rather just take it to him, personally!” she said.
“I’m afraid that would be inadvisable. Mister Macintosh is working right now and should not be disturbed.”
“He won’t mind a visit from me.”
“And you are?”
“Marmalade!”
“Mister Macintosh is not expecting you,” he said with finality.
“Well he’s gonna see me if I have to wait here all day!” she pushed open the door and shoved past Tombs. Not even the boldest Canterlot mare had ever done anything of the kind! The fact that the Prince lived in a palace surrounded by royal guards certainly helped, however. It was much harder keeping a persistent mare out of a barn you didn’t even own.
“I’m afraid ma’m will be waiting for a long time,” said Tombs.
“That’s fine,” she put her ears back, stuck her nose in the air and planted her ass on the chaff covered barn floor.
“Very good, ma’m,” said Tombs.
***
Celestia’s meditations did not enlighten her, but they at least left her calmer. It had been a stressful morning. She cuddled with Luna until her sister fell back asleep. Luna seemed all right, but Celestia plugged in her nightlight before departing for the Cave. Just in case.
The Cave was back open for pilgrims and tourists to come pay their respects and Celestia returned to the palace.
“What’s the mob like today, Cicero?” she asked her majordomo, who waited patiently outside the towering gilded doors of the Royal Court.
“Light today, Your Majesty,” he wheezed “The representative of the Foundation for Ovine Dignity is here to review the Equestria-wide treatment of Sheep. The rest is all rubber stamp affairs.” His voice growled like an old lion. Poor Cicero. He was her fifty-second majordomo in the past millennium. It would be time to appoint a new one, soon. Still, Cicero’s mind was sharp and he was the greatest orator she’d ever employed. His wisdom and caution were a great inspiration to the sometimes-hotheaded monarch (oligarch, now). Since appointing him to her court thirty years ago, her overall outlook on life was much more tranquil than it had been in prior epochs.
“Excellent, Cicero,” she said “That being the case, I’m going to look in on my sister before I commence the business of the day.”
Cicero bowed low, touching his chin to the crimson carpet. She noted it was becoming threadbare. It would be time for a new carpet soon as well. It seemed like she’d only replaced it a decade ago…
Luna’s wing of the Royal Apartments was all black marble and obsidian. Anypony who didn’t know their way around like the back of their hoof could easily get turned around or completely lost in the shadowy corridors. Luminous crystal stars bedecked the arched ceiling above and seemed to dance and shift of their own accord, then return to their proper places when you looked again.
Celestia peeked through the door of Luna’s bedroom. In the light of the nightlight, she could see Luna’s hair billowing softly around her as she slept, the regular rise and fall of her side just visible in the gloom. Celestia smiled and eased the door closed.
“Celestia?” Luna muttered through the last sliver of the open door.
“Yes, sister?”
“Do you remember that song Mother used to sing to us when we were feeling sad?”
Celestia trotted in and lay down on the bed next to her sister, throwing a hoof over her shoulder.
Hey Jude, don’t make it bad…
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember, to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
Hey Jude, don’t be afraid…
She sang. Her angel voice was like golden honey and her notes were as pure as a mountain spring, bringing back memories of the halcyon days before Discord when the sisters would frolic together and pretend that they were next in line to be rulers of Equestria.
Luna joined in on the “Na na naaas” and by the end of the song she’d cheered up a lot.
***
Up at Buttermilk’s farm, Applejack oiled Daisy-Jo’s teats up with Vaseline.
“Ohh, that feels good,” said Daisy-Jo “In this dry air, that udder of mine gets chapped somethin’ fierce, don’tcha know.”
“So how’ve you been?” asked Applejack, digging her hoof through the tub for another glob.The end of Part 13
To be continued…
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hmmm, I am enjoying the serious problems and bases of charaters your putting out. The origin of Discord and the princesses, ancient wars and dieties! it's all very cptivating. I come fo the comedy, but stay for the back story!
I was so confused by the last scene, yet I still laughed. I love this chapter! I also adore how you update like, once a day. I'm really hoping you keep that trend up.
/] for the "Hey Jude"! Great story, it really has not disappointed since I decided to read earlier.
367652
Thanks for all the comments! My inbox just exploded, lol
Thanks for taking a shot on my story. Glad it didn't disappoint
367725 Your welcome for all the comments. This story did not fail to entertain! I had been thinking about reading this for a few months now, but now I decided to read it and I have read it. ALL.
There were a few issues but they were minor enough for me to not mention them.
Hm. Could this Cicero chap have anything to do with Marcus Tullius Cicero? Or am I just overanalyzing it again?
Anyway, just one issue here. That last scene with Applejack. Considering we last saw her emptying out her hat, throwing her with Daisy-Jo is plain jarring, and the scene itself is so short that it doesn't even let us get a context, much less figure out how it's relevant to the story. Just thought I'd point that out.
369596
Is there any other Cicero?
As for the scene with Applejack, the idea was that amidst all the emotional turmoil and drama, there's this "meanwhile" moment and we have Applejack doing something mundane. The image of a pony who can talk, settling down to milk a cow who can talk and asking her how her day is going seemed almost New Yorker-esque. I guess, like most New Yorker Cartoons, it's not as funny as the artist thought.
It's a sort of punctuation for the rest of the heavy doings. You know, kinda like "hey, we just saw some crazy shit. What's Applejack up to?" "nuthin' much, just lubing up this cow's tits."
370230
a typo.
370413
I knew I'd regret acting like a dick the second I posted that.
Such a cruel reminder of all that he's lost...
Heh. Beef silo.
Too bad Mac didn't mention the same thing to Blueblood regarding his reputation.
It suddenly feels kind of strange that Big Mac is still trying to keep up the charade. Granted, I didn't think he'd give up easily on Twilight, but the prospect that this whole body-swapping thing is a legitimate and likely way of earning her affections is looking thinner and thinner as time goes by. I would've thought he'd at least bring up the possibility of switching back before they bury themselves any deeper.
Blueblood, obviously, has less incentive to want his body back, but even he hasn't seriously addressed the fact that he couldn't get the golden horseshoe off. Weird.
Hmm. The birds must be deaf, or dumb?
Farmers usually use something else nowadays, but I guess Vaseline would work.