If Celestia endorses Sweet Apple Acres, the Apple family can start living the good life. There’s just one little problem: Celestia… um… dislikes apples.
After receiving endorsements from both Fancypants and Hoity Toity, Rarity’s business has taken off. It isn’t fair to Applejack, because there’s no such thing as a famous apple critic. Who else could endorse the Apple family business? Who is beloved by all, and could put Sweet Apple Acres on the map?
Why, Princess Celestia, of course! There’s just one, tiny, little problem…
I, Princess Celestia, perhaps the most powerful and intelligent being on the planet, ruler of Equestria, the sun’s guide, solar diarch—
GLURG-URP!
—am about to projectile vomit onto one of the Elements of Harmony, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
And the day started off so well…
Squinting, I pulled the great, burning orb a little higher. The clock struck five thirty-six in the morning, and I sighed with a smirk. I’ve been a few seconds late the last few days, but not today. Nopony notices, but I do. Details like that are what make the difference between the smooth running of the state and—
“Gooooood morning, Princess! A fine day today, isn't it?”
“Discord…” I tilted my head away from the daylight. He was the only thing, besides the sun, floating in the sky. He crunched something noisily in his mouth. His chewing had a particular brick-grinding quality to it, much like his presence on my nerves. “Aren't you usually asleep at this time of day?”
He swooped out of the sky like a kite to alight on the railing of the marble balcony I stood upon. He stood on his head, literally; with a pop, he took his own cranium off and balanced on top of it, like a demented circus act. His impressive ability to perfectly balance on the polished marble didn't overshadow the fact that his mouth kept chewing... and talking.
“Why, I’ve had a wonderful night’s sleep. I did feel a bit put out, not getting a friendship throne of my very own, but your delightful sister snuck into my dreams last night and let me try it out. Having a friendship throne is fun for about five minutes, but then all those ponies showed up and wanted advice on friendship. So I turned them into giant marshmallows and ate them all! So tasty… On an unrelated note, do you know where my pillows went? I couldn't find them this morning.” He finished his little story with a flourish and a flip, despite his bulging stomach. Landing on the balcony next to me, he picked up his head and screwed it back on. I’m being literal when I say that; it even squeaked a bit near the end. “Hmm… I suppose I’ll need some grease for that. Perhaps some elbow grease? I've never heard of neck grease…”
“Discord! What do you want?” I said with an edge in my voice. I don’t like using that voice, but it’s that or the Royal Canterlot Voice, and the latter tends to make my subjects quake in fear and the guards burst into whatever room I’m in.
“Nothing,” he replied, nonchalant. “Well… maybe a few more rubies. You see, I tried a few gems that Spike enjoys. I have a bit of dragon in me, and I've never tried eating gems before,” he said, as he reached behind himself and pulled out an emerald the size of my hoof. He crunched down on it, breaking it in half. Spraying shards of emerald with every word, he said, “A bit nutty, but I like the texture. Want some?” He picked himself up by the scruff of the neck with one paw, while offering the other half of the scintillating emerald with the other, still dripping with his slobber. He floated in the air without any leverage to keep him there. He continued to float in the air after me, exactly the way bricks don’t.
I tried to keep a calm facade; I couldn't help but grimace before I replied, “No, thank you.” I could barely stomach eating meat, and here he was eating a rock. I hadn't even eaten breakfast yet, and already my stomach was turning. Keeping one eye on Discord, I trotted through my bedroom, past the four-poster bed with its snow-white canopy and the mahogany armoire, then down the hall. My golden shod hooves clicked with each step over the ancient, veined marble. The guards, stationed in regular intervals on each side of the great hall, bowed low, while Discord hovered behind me. He waved to everypony as if they were bowing for him. One of the guards gave a quiet snort when Discord waved, and smiled at me when he picked his head up. Discord glared as we continued down the hall. I felt like admonishing him, but as he continued to float above me, he accidentally ran (floated?) right into a low-hanging archway. He sat crumpled in a heap, rubbing his head, while I strode into the dining room. I couldn't help but wear a smug smile as I sank into the high-backed, red velvet chair at the end of the table. The great bronze door closed with a dull boom, blocking my view of the irritating creature. This day looked a little brighter already.
“Good morn, sister,” Luna called out with forced cheer. She sat on the other end of the long, polished, oak table. The improbable length of the table, combined with the rest of hard marble surfaces in here, made her voice echo. I smiled over the silver candlesticks set at the midpoint of the table, and without a word, moved to sit next to her. It took half a minute just to reach the other side of the dining hall. It’s useful when there’s a full gathering of ambassadors or nobles, but when it’s just me and my sister, it feels quite lonely and empty. Luna raised an eyebrow as I once again took a seat, just to her left. “Your proper seat is at the opposite head of the table,” she croaked through a sluggish mouth and bloodshot eyes.
I chuckled before I replied, “I won’t tell the others if you don’t.” I gestured to the non-existent ‘others’ at the table.
She gave me a weary smile and nodded. “We are glad you are in good spirits.”
“Rough night?” I asked. Just then, the servants’ door opened, and a grey earth pony stallion named Proper Attire trotted out with two silver chargers, covered with domes, on the cart harnessed to him. Although I would never say so, Proper Attire might be my favorite footpony. He’s always on time, as far as I can recall (and my memory goes back more than a millennium), and he usually wears a pleasant smile for me. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day, so having Proper Attire serve me breakfast—on time—well, let’s just say the only thing that could make this day better would be a friendship report.
“Indeed, Our duties were unexpectedly difficult last night,” Luna said, as Proper set down our mystery breakfasts without breaking stride. I’m sure it made his job easier to serve the two of us at one end of the table, rather than trotting a half-mile to the far end. Luna and I are so busy we often let the royal chef decide what we eat. Like this morning, I didn't know what would be served. Judging by the aroma coming from under the lid of the charger, everything was coming up ‘Celestia’ today. “I had to fight off a half-dozen nightmares last night, two of which were Nightmare Moon. Dost thou know how passing strange it is to fight oneself?”
As Luna’s speech grew more archaic, so too did my unease. It signaled she didn't have the mental resources to speak with modern colloquialisms. “I’m sorry, Luna; did you at least win those fights and banish the nightmares?” I asked, as Proper withdrew the charger over Luna’s breakfast. Prench toast, with a confectioner’s sugar dusting and syrup; coffee, with two sugar cubes and spoonfuls of cream; half of a grapefruit, sliced along the sections and sprinkled with more sugar; and—
Luna groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Indeed, but that isn't what troubles Us. We felt drained after Our struggles and wished to see a pony with a pleasant dream, so we decided to enter the dreams of an Element of Harmony.”
My gaze tore away from her breakfast and its delightful smell. I would have a duplicate of her meal, and I couldn't help but feel my mouth water. Swallowing, I asked, “Whose dream did you look in on? Was it pleasant like you hoped?”
“I entered the dream of—“ Luna started.
“Apple tart?!” I exclaimed, as Proper withdrew the dome over my charger with a flourish. The dessert was an apple tart. It looked freshly baked, with a light dusting of cinnamon, and just the right amount of browning along the crust. I’m sure the crust would have flaked in my mouth, and the filling would have melted beside it, if I tried to eat it. The chef should have known better!
“No, her name is Applejack, We believe,” Luna answered, without missing a beat. She lifted the coffee to her lips with her hooves, not her magic, and took a sip. “Hmmm— excellent, Our compliments to the Royal Chef.”
Proper Attire’s smile went from polite to genuine. He nodded and said, “I shall tell him so. The combination of sweet and—“
“TART. APPLE. TART!” I breathed out each word like a curse, pointing an accusing hoof at the offensive dessert. Luna groaned quietly and glanced over breakfast for the first time with open eyes. Her horn lit up, and my apple tart floated off my plate, then into her mouth. She ate it in one bite, chewed, and swallowed. Proper Attire looked at us with wide eyes; his smile retreated.
With a smirk, Luna sighed and said, “One more nightmare slain.” She shooed Proper Attire away with a dismissive hoof. He nodded and bowed out, leaving through the side passage without a sound. Luna turned to me, took another sip of her coffee, and continued her story. “We fear Applejack is jealous of the other Elements. Her dreams centered on Miss Rarity’s successful fashion line when Fancypants endorsed her, and her own failure to sell her produce to the Canterlot nobles at the Gala. The dream had a green scarf, a green apple, a green dress, and green eyes.”
I leaned away from Luna until she had another sip of coffee. I took my own cup of the pungent beverage and held it in front of me, like a warding talisman. “Aren't Applejack’s eyes green already? Remind me, what’s the meaning behind the color green again?” I took a sip of the coffee and a bite of my toast. The coffee stayed near my muzzle.
“Green is representative of envy, my dear sister. Something I know a thing or two about,” Luna said, while she peered over breakfast with one open eye on me. I swallowed— this could be a touchy subject, but I needed to know if one of the Elements was about to do something rash. “In the dream, the green eyes belonged to Miss Rarity, but it’s nothing to be concerned about. The dream was unpleasant, but we believe it’s just a passing fancy.” The day was rapidly going downhill; I truly wished for—
A green flash of light flared into being just above and in front of my head. I caught the scroll that tumbled down in my aura, just before it plopped into my syrup. “Ah, a letter from Twilight. Or perhaps one of her friends?” I asked hopefully. I set down my toast and coffee; few things pleased me more than a friendship report.
“What does it say?” Luna asked as I unrolled the scroll with my magic and drank in the words. My smile started like the sunrise, but by the end of the page, that sunrise had turned to dusk.
“It seems Applejack is determined to make some headway selling her apples to the nobles here. She’s going to meet with Fancypants, I suspect with the intention of getting his endorsement. It seems you’re right, sister. I’m glad she’s taking a more constructive approach, rather than…” I let the rest remain unsaid. I heard Luna’s sigh from the other side of the letter.
“It seems we still have more to atone for,” Luna said gravely. “Should We stay awake today and take care of this?” Luna asked, as I rolled up the scroll and set it aside.
I shook my head and replied, “No, you've performed your duty. If Fancypants tries to influence me, I’m sure I can handle it.”
“He has a meeting scheduled with you today, yes?” she asked. The aroma of breakfast won out over conversation for a full minute. We both ate with gusto, stuffing down the fluffy toast along with triangles of grapefruit. Without anypony watching, we didn't care about decorum. It tasted even better than it looked.
“Yes, he’s trying to get the contract to build another ship in Fillydelphia. Something tells me he’s going to try and get the Royal Equestrian Navy to include apples with every sailor’s lunch.” I sighed, then continued, “I suppose that wouldn't be so bad. Do you think I can slip this past the media without getting called corrupt?”
“Didn't you pass a law requiring government contracts to favor small businesses? Doesn't Sweet Apple Acres qualify as a small business?” Luna asked. I smiled as she finished her coffee with closed eyes. She rarely gave much away from her expression, but I knew she felt smug. So did I; outmaneuvering the press was a special treat.
“Why, I do believe you’re right, sister. I could hardly refuse the request of Fancypants to include a small business sub-contract for food. After all, doesn't everypony deserve a chance at the government’s coffers?” I grinned as I set down the remains of breakfast and stood. Luna sighed, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. “Thank you, Luna,” I said, as I nuzzled the top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re here again. I don’t know how I managed the kingdom without you.”
“And how, pray tell, are We supposed to manage that?” I asked with a quirked eyebrow. Using the royal ‘We’ sounded odd coming out of my mouth, but I didn’t know what else to do. Fancypants drove a hard bargain. “I don’t believe the kingdom can afford eight-hundred million bits for another ship.” I folded my forelegs and reclined into the throne.
I allowed the sun to slip closer to noon when Fancypants, decked out in his best black tuxedo, entered the Solar Court and flung himself into his proposal. Only the regular media ponies hovered outside the throne room doors, looking bored and taking fewer notes than usual. Luckily for me, as I detest having to explain myself. It isn’t that I can’t, it’s just bothersome having to defend every decision I make when I’m doing the best I can for everypony. Getting grilled by media ponies always makes me feel like I’m being accused of corruption or impropriety. I sighed at the thought of another article written about a misspent bit when the nation’s budget exceeded four trillion bits. Most ponies can’t even comprehend such a sum; I worked with it daily.
Sunlight filtered into the throne room through the stained-glass windows, spraying multi-colored shards of light from the east side of the room to the west. Fancypants stood on the long, plush, red carpet in between two of these kaleidoscopic segments. The golden thread at the edge of the carpet acted like a barrier to the other ponies in the room. The guards stood impassive, as always, while a skinny, teal unicorn mare, the clerk, recorded every word said by anypony present. Today, she recorded what Fancypants said, which was: “The cost of a new Cadance-class ship will cost a paltry eight-hundred million bits.”
This came as a shock, since the previous ship cost half that much. The cost of government contracts creeping up isn't news, but an extra four-hundred million bits? “I don’t think so, Mr. Fancypants. What could possibly justify a doubling of the cost of this project?”
“Well, Your Highness, the cost of labor has gone up since we constructed the last one,” he said, without breaking a sweat. Nobles usually got their way when they appealed to a populist agenda. He glanced at the clerk and asked, “You’re getting all of this, right?” She nodded. “Capital performance,” he said with a smile.
“It’s only risen by three-and-a-half percent over the last two years, according to census data,” I replied, without looking it up. Yes, I’m that good.
Fancypants straightened his tie and swallowed. “Yes, that’s true, but the cost of labor in Fillydelphia has risen significantly more than the national average.”
In a flash, I saw how I could steer the conversation into the trap he was trying to set up. “What did I say last year when we negotiated the labor contract for the shipbuilders?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to avoid saying it out loud. The public backlash from that quote nearly drove me to tears. The pawn moved into position.
“Let them eat cake,” Fancypants replied. His eyes widened slightly as he glanced at the clerk. She continued to scribble the transcript at a lightning pace, without looking up. I took a sip of water from the crystal goblet set near the hoof rest as Fancy broke out in sweat, then smiled inwardly. Check!
“And they ARE eating cake. The shipbuilder’s union’s contract requires they eat cake every day for lunch, provided to them by government bits. Let’s not forget to mention that dental costs on the contract have risen thirty-two percent in the past year alone. Probably because they keep eating cake! Perhaps if we served something healthier in the government-provided lunches…?” I let the suggestion hang in the air. If Applejack had visited Fancypants this morning, as her letter suggested, I left him the perfect opening to slip in the sub-contract. I grinned to myself; it might be unfair, but that’s the benefit of playing both sides of the table. You win no matter what happens. Checkmate! Just a matter of time...
“Capital idea, Princess. I’ve found just the mare to provide something healthier. What could be healthier, more honest, than an apple?” he asked, as he gestured to the gold-inlaid doors at the south end of the room. “An apple a day keeps the doctor, or in this case, the dentist, away,” he sing-songed, pleased with himself. The doors burst open, and Applejack high-stepped into the room. “I’m sure you know Miss Applejack; her proposal should solve our troubles.” I played chess, while Fancy played checkers. I gulped, and watched as the game board flipped over.
Applejack’s high-stepping trot hesitated as she got closer to the throne. I don’t think she’s ever been in here by herself during open court. The skylight illuminates me from behind; the guards and architecture are all placed so that the pony sitting on the throne is the largest, most intimidating thing in sight. I’m so tall, I no longer qualify as a pony; I’m a horse, of course. Combine all of that with the raised dais, the lighting, the crown, and the guards, it’s no wonder ponies get intimidated when standing where Fancy is now. Applejack’s nose pointed almost straight up as she trotted by Fancypants. Ponies are supposed to stop at the base of the dais to speak to whichever diarch is present. Applejack took three steps up the dais before the cart she dragged behind her hit the first step and stopped. Blinking, she glanced over her shoulder, unhitched the cart, and bucked it open. It exploded into a display of apple-based treats, right next to Fancypants. He smiled and swiped an apple off of the cart. He held it up and opened his mouth to speak.
I blanched. It’s impossible to tell with my coat, but I assure you, all of the blood drained from my face. My pupils shrank to pinpricks as Applejack snatched the apple away from Fancypants and said, “Thanks, Ah got it from here, Fancy.” His eyes went wide and his mouth hung open limply; Applejack ignored him. She turned, with the shiny, red apple in hoof, and ascended the dais. Normally, the guards would violently tackle anypony who did such a thing, but Applejack isn't just anypony; she’s the Element of Honesty. My eyes flicked left and right to see the guards’ ears perk up and their eyes follow Applejack, but they made no other moves.
“Umm, Miss Applejack, it isn’t proper decorum to approach—“ Fancy started.
“Pshhh.” Applejack blew a raspberry. “Ah’ve met Princess Celestia plenty o’ times. We’re old friends.” She gave a quick bow and took off her cowpony hat, holding it to her chest, smiling at me. “Ah just didn't realize ‘til now, she’s never had a delicious Sweet Apple Acres apple. Well, Ah’m gonna fix that today,” she said, as her eyes locked right on me, “and yer gonna love ‘em so much, you’ll be willin’ ta buy enough fer them hungry stallions ‘n mares in Fillydelphia.”
I have never been close to Applejack. Don’t get me wrong, I like her. Honesty is a wonderful and important virtue. I mean to say, I have never been physically close to Applejack. This isn't an accident. Whenever Twilight and her friends have come by, I always make sure to stand a relatively safe distance from this apple farmer, because even the smell of apples is enough to make me sick. The decor in the throne room may have impressed Applejack, but I didn't, not anymore. Maybe it’s true what ponies say: ‘familiarity breeds contempt.’ “Applejack, you don’t need to—” I never finished that sentence.
Horrible, filthy, disgusting…
Apples! I could smell them. Breakfast roiled in my stomach. I tried to breathe through my open mouth so I wouldn't smell her, or the Tartarus-damned fruit she carried. I used every facial muscle I could to pinch my nose shut, when Applejack stopped right in front of me…
...and stuffed the entire apple into my mouth, with a smile.
URK!
I, Princess Celestia, perhaps the most powerful and intelligent being on the planet, ruler of Equestria, the sun’s guide, solar diarch—
GLURG-URP!
—am about to projectile vomit onto one of the Elements of Harmony, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
One of the defining traits of a great ruler is quick thinking. Allow me a moment to congratulate myself; thinking quickly while also losing your breakfast is no small feat, I assure you. I couldn't stop my stomach from emptying its contents, but I could choose where my breakfast ended up.
Teleportation is one of the most difficult and dangerous spells a pony can perform. The way Twilight does it makes it look easy, but it isn't, not by a long shot. A great reserve of magic is required, along with a focused mind. The destination is the most important part; picturing it clearly so you don’t end up off-target makes the teleport work. Teleporting a short distance to a place you can actually see is the safest way to work the magic. With a rapid glance around the room, I realized no such safe place existed.
BLURP!
No time left— I need to teleport, and I need to do it now. Applejack’s overwide grin faltered. She gave me a funny look, something between ‘do you like it?’ and ‘what’s wrong?’ This resulted in an odd combination of a wry smile, one ear up, and a tilted head. To his credit, Fancypants seemed to figure it out at the last second. His eyes went wide and he brought a hoof up to cover his mouth. I summoned the magic to teleport, and pictured the first familiar place I could think of. I didn't exactly plan it—my mental picture simply arrived on instinct.
FUMP!
The sound of displaced air blasted into my ears, and the temperature rose a fraction of a degree. I had my eyes closed, screwed tight with concentration, trying to keep myself from teleporting into a wall, or worse. They say one’s home is one’s castle, but what’s your castle when you actually live in a castle? Your room, of course. The rug in my room costs roughly what Applejack earns in a year. The cleaning bill would be astronomical, but what else could I do except—
BLARCH!
Yuck. Well, there goes breakfast. There’s a brief moment of nausea when teleporting; combined with the smell and taste of apples, I had no hope of holding it in, even for a second. I hoped to hit the carpet, but when I opened my eyes, I looked at my bed. Double yuck. My bed moved! “Wh-what? Urk!” My stomach did another backflip when I smelled the results of my breakfast plus one apple.
“Puh,” said my bed. Or rather, the pony-shaped form lying on it. I blinked a watery set of eyes as my legs quivered with sudden weakness. My throat burned with caustic pain. I tried to focus, but throwing up really takes it out of you. “Wh-what? WHAT? DISGUSTING!” Luna’s voice issued from beneath my bed sheets, covered in—well, you know…
She spat out a mouthful of YUCK! I idly noticed her hoof sitting next to an open box of Bon-Bons (the Prench chocolates, not the pony). Those would be my chocolates, given to me by the Prench ambassador last week as a parting gift. The chocolates were half-covered in my breakfast, ruined. Luna spat out a chocolate and… I think a chunk grapefruit. “L-Luna? Ohhh… my stomach,” I groaned. I put a hoof to my belly and sank to my haunches; it just took far too much energy to stand.
“GYAHHH!” Luna hollered, as she leapt out of my bed and galloped for the washroom. I heard the water blast on, and Luna retching several times. I heard the harsh hiss of a toothbrush— probably mine— scraping a royal tongue. “It burns like the sun!” I heard her whine.
I sat, dazed, on the posh rug. I wiped my mouth with a hoof and groaned again. I tried, and failed, to stand. I rose to my hooves on the second attempt, and wobbled to the washroom. Luna hadn't bothered to close the door; it hung ajar, muffling her anguished cries. I opened the door by walking into it with my head, only to find Luna glaring at me in the mirror set above the sink. I didn't even bother with courtesy; I sidled up beside her, put my head under the shiny spigot, and rinsed my entire head with clear water.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Luna cried. It took several moments of rinsing, especially my mouth, before I withdrew my head from the sink. I glanced at her when my legs trembled again. I stuck my mouth under the spigot again and drank greedily. Oh sweet water, nothing tastes so good when one is thirsty, and I had just lost all of my body’s spare water. “Sister? CELESTIA!” Luna switched to the royal Canterlot voice.
I groaned softly and stood upright. Shaking like a dog, I dried my mane into a semblance of its ethereal normalcy. Some ponies look beautiful and sexy with a wet mane. I look like an overgrown, albino, drowning rat with a grungy, grayish mane after the colors have all bled together. I almost forgot… Royal Canterlot voice… right. I sighed, composed myself, and asked, “Yes, sister?” in the most innocent voice I could muster.
Cold fury burned in her eyes as she regarded me. Speaking with a quiet, restrained rage, she asked, “Why did you feel it necessary to vomit INTO MY MOUTH?!” Royal Canterlot voice again. If the guards didn't hear it the first time, they certainly did the second time. That gave me about fifteen seconds, at best, before—
SLAM!
“Princess Celestia? Princess Luna? Where are you?” an overbearing voice barked. While Proper Attire held my favor, this particular guard did not. I don’t want to give the impression that he didn't do his job; no, the problems occurred because he did his job a little too well. Royal Unicorn Guard Vigilance is the type of pony that when given an order to ‘protect the Princess,’ would effectively prevent said protectee from doing anything dangerous. Like flying, or galloping, or trotting, or getting too close to another pony, or eating, or drinking dangerous fluids such as water. I swear, he’d prevent me from breathing if he thought I might inhale too much dust. I believe Luna mistook my angry scowl as being directed at her when Vigilance burst into the royal bedchamber.
“We’re in here, Vigilance,” I croaked. I must have sounded even worse than I felt, because Vigilance bucked the door open (it was unlocked), tumbled into the room in order to dodge any projectiles (in a bathroom?), and stood between Luna and myself, eyes darting every which way, searching (for what?). I honestly don’t know what goes through this pony’s head on the best of days; I wanted this day over with as soon as possible.
“Guardsponies! They’re in here! Clear!” he yelled to the stomps of enough hooves and voices that there must have been a full regiment outside my bedchamber.
Luna stood on the other side of Vigilance, smoldering. With fluids in my system, my mind kicked back into Princess mode. Before any more guards arrived to complicate matters, I commanded, “Leave us be. I shall return to the audience chamber in a moment.” I gave Luna a tight smile; this would be a delicate operation. Vigilance nodded, bowed low, and back-stepped out. I followed behind him and gestured for Luna to follow. Vigilance let out a disgusted snort when he glanced at the bed, but said nothing as he trotted out. The door closed softly, muffling the murmuring voices on the other side. Luna walked into the bedchamber like a thunderhead and opened her mouth to say something, but her last step put her silver shod hoof into a puddle of—
“GROSS!” she shouted, thankfully not amplified by magic. The mess on the bed dripped into a puddle on the floor. The maids would require overtime. I made a mental note to give them tomorrow off. “What is the meaning of this—“
“Celestia?” Applejack bucked the door open and bounded into the room. No mean feat, since the door is solid teak and inlaid with bronze. A dozen royal guards stood on the other side of the threshold, their eyes wide, searching the scene inside for answers. “Everythang okay? Ya up n’ left in a hurry, an’ ya looked a little… SICK!” she exclaimed when her eyes fell on the royal bed. “Uh, yer bed’s a mess,” she said simply. Usually when a pony says ‘your bed is a mess,’ they mean ‘the sheets on your bed are rumpled’ or ‘your bed isn’t made.’ Leave it to the Element of Honesty to say exactly what she means.
With a flash of my horn, the door slammed shut on the wide eyes of the guards. “Thank you for your concern, Applejack.” I tried to sound pleasant, but my throat still felt raw. Luna made a disgusted face with her tongue out, then with a deft flick of her hoof, sent her shoe to clatter against the wall. It left another vile stain on the marble, but I didn't care at the moment. “As you can see, I am not having the best day today. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow and we can discuss business further.”
Applejack looked at the bed with her eyes squinting and her nose crinkled. “Did you jus’ upchuck?” she asked, looking directly at me.
“Well…”
“Yes, she did, the vile creature!” Luna offered. I sighed, while Luna continued, “This is inexcusable, Celestia. You have an iron stomach!” She turned to Applejack and thundered, “She didn't even lose her dinner when the gryphon ambassador had roasted rodents served for supper! She even politely ate a bite, and then forced US to eat a bite as well! Disgusting!” She glared at me again, took two threatening strides so our eyes were inches apart and growled, “You had better have a good excuse, or we’re about to enter the second war of the sun and moon!”
I swallowed, and that tight smile grew into a hideous parody; I prayed that it didn't look like a smirk. “Luna, this is technically your fault.”
“EXCUSE ME?!” the royal Canterlot voice shouted right in my face, blowing my mane and tail back. “WHAT DID YOU DO? EAT AN APPLE?” My heart did a backflip; she had said that loud enough for the entire castle to hear. My… condition’s secrecy protects Luna’s pride, not my own. I drew in a breath to sigh, because the story would have come out.
GLURK!
My nose filled with the scent of apples; and right on cue my stomach filled with squirming worms. Applejack had placed herself between the two of us. Of course she had, it’s a primary function of the Elements to mend relations, this one in particular. I took two swift steps back and clamped both forehooves over my nose. “Now hang on a gosh darn minute. Are ya tellin’ me mah apple made Princess Celestia do THAT?” Applejack asked while pointing at the mess on the bed.
The anger left Luna’s face like a light bulb breaking a filament. “Y-you fed my sister an apple?” she asked. Applejack nodded with question marks written all over her face. “Oh… Oh my… it IS my fault.” Luna’s ears dropped and she sat on her haunches with a dull thud. Luckily, she missed the puddle of… breakfast.
Applejack made that disgusted face again, and then looked at me askance. “Princess? Do… do ya hate my apples?” she asked, on the verge of tears.
What could I say? No, seriously, what could I say without breathing in? The miasma in the room threatened to make me heave again.
“We… We shall admit to our mistake. For the sake of dear Applejack, who is blameless in this,” Luna said quietly. She looked so sad, her eyes downcast. I wanted to comfort her, but that would entail getting closer to Applejack at the moment. Not an option.
“Ah’m sure there’s a story behind this, an’ Ah can’t wait ta hear it, but… kin we git inta a room that don’t smell like Big Mac’s sweaty harness?” Applejack asked.
Luna glanced at me for only a second before her eyes fell again. “Honest Applejack, thou must take a shower in the washroom. Be sure to scrub mightily and use Celestia’s lavender bath soaps. Then, we shall tell thee a story the likes of which thou have never heard before.”
Applejack looked at me, and in that moment my stomach turned into a knot. Her mouth fell into a line and one brow popped up. Anger condensed around the brim of her hat like a cloud. After a long silence, she snorted and said, “Fine, but this better be good!”
Applejack settled into the short bench out on my balcony. The furniture out here rarely received use as usually only Luna or I use it. I stifled a giggle as Applejack settled into the dusty third seat. They were designed for large, royal flanks, making Applejack look comically small in it. Her hat rested on the small crystal table, next to three glasses of orange juice. Orange juice is my favorite; I don’t tell anypony that because I don’t want the nobles to play favorites just because I like or dislike something. They've figured out my preferences anyway, despite my best efforts. Just look at the financial situation of the closely related Apple and Orange families.
Applejack swallowed and asked, “Do you hate me, Princess?”
“Of course not,” I replied.
“Do you hate apples?”
I took a deep breath. I could smell the lavender that permeated the air around her. “Well… I… don’t like to eat apples.”
Applejack snorted again, and an edge came into her voice. “Ah thought by gittin' ya ta endorse Sweet Apple Acres Ah could make some sales. Ah saw how much better Rarity’s business did after Fancypants and that silly critic started likin’ her dresses. Ah thought, ‘Now what could be better than Princess Celestia sayin, “Ah love Sweet Apple Acre’s apples?”’ Them reporter ponies are gonna run with this story, ain't they?” she asked me. “Ah’m never gonna sell another apple,” she said with downcast eyes.
“That’s not true. I can…” What could I do? I couldn't very well eat an apple in public.
Luna stepped onto the balcony a moment later, closing the glass doors behind her with a flick of her magic. I could see the maids stripping the bed, but we couldn’t hear them, which meant they couldn't hear us. Luna sighed, laid down on the final bench, took a sip of orange juice, and began her story.
“This happened before I… became nightmare moon,” Luna started. I smiled at Luna as she spoke plainly about painful memories. This must have been hard for her. “Um, We are not sure if We remember everything correctly; it’s been so long. Will you help Us, sister?
I nodded and replied, “Of course I will.” I turned to Applejack and continued, “You see, long ago, Luna and I often played pranks on each other…”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is too infinity times!”
Gasp!
Politically, it is unacceptable to resort to one’s most powerful weapons at the beginning of a tense conflict. I learned this early in life from my sister. Ending an argument with the mighty ‘infinity’ should be reserved for only the most grave of circumstances. Like, who gets the last cupcake, or which is better: sunrise or sunset?
It really shouldn't be used to decide which tastes better: mayonnaise or mustard.
“You only like mayonnaise because it’s the same color you are!” Luna whined. We were both equal in height at the time. Our growth and life spans are unusual. While we were in adult bodies, and had spent enough time alive to be adults if we were normal ponies, we were not normal. Our psychology at the time was more akin to a child’s. In case you’re wondering, yes—I did only “like” mayonnaise because it matched my coat. No sane pony would enjoy the taste of greasy goo.
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Do not infinity times!”
Double gasp!
I should have stopped after winning the first fight. Luna’s eyes misted before she darted out of the great hall, wailing. I blew a raspberry after her retreating form and looked around for something fun to do, instead of comforting my sister.
Did I mention how incredibly immature we were at the time?
The great hall gleamed with the noonday sun overhead. Light spilled through the skylight and danced around the walls like it was a festival. Great banners of every color hung high between the rafters, and thick books on every subject decorated the walls in between the plush tapestries. I felt particularly powerful and content, standing under the sun, winning two arguments in a row with my sibling. I pranced around the hall, acting like a princess. Or rather, how I believed a princess should act at the time. I ordered around imaginary servants, wore imaginary fine silks, and wore a less-than-imaginary tiara.
I’m still Princess Celestia, after all.
It was not long before I grew bored. I pranced to one of the bookcases and pulled a thick volume forward with my nascent magic. A dull click sounded from within the wall, and the bookcase slid outward. Ducking into the narrow, dark passageway, I made my way to the hidden hall where I suspected I would find Luna. Playing with another was always more fun than playing by myself; surely Luna had forgotten about our little tiff over mayonnaise and mustard by now, right?
I found Luna in her favorite place: a dark hallway with multiple stone forehooves extending out of the walls to hold torches, called the Hall of Hooves. She sat with her back to me, sobbing quietly. A light source flickered in front of her, but I couldn't see what little project she worked upon; I would find out soon enough. Knowing how much she loved a good prank, I reached out of the hole in the wall and tapped her on the shoulder, shouting, “BOO!”
She instantly leapt into the air, limbs going every which way. Landing in a heap, she turned to glare at the white foreleg dangling out of the wall. “Meanie!” she whined. “Here We art, trying our hoof at reconciliation, and thou go and frighten Us!”
I gasped when I withdrew my hoof and spied the things on the floor. Luna had three plates, two with sandwiches on them, and one with a small pie. I don’t mean a childish pie, like a mud pie. No, I mean a real pie, with a flaky crust and sliced apples, cinnamon, and sugar for the filling. The pie tin sat on a wide, flat stone, with a few glowing embers under it. The still-intact apple sitting next to it, and the heavenly aroma issuing from the baked good, made me realize exactly what sort of prize Luna had. You see, apples aren’t native to Equestria. They’re originally from a land far away and had to be imported. In those days, apples were a rare treat that we enjoyed infrequently. “The Grand Solar Princess wishes to partake of your humble pie, and would gladly reconcile with thee to do so,” I said, with what I thought to be royal flair.
Immature, yes, and with a pompous vocabulary to boot.
With a flick of the lever, the wall spun around, putting me in the hall with Luna. She flashed a grin for only a second before scowling at me again. Today, suspicion would have caused me to stop, but back then naivete allowed us to fool each other easily. “We contend that mayonnaise tastes worse than mustard, and we shall prove it,” Luna said with a gesture to the three arrayed plates. “Yonder there are two egg salad sandwiches; one with mustard only and one with mayonnaise only. Thou shall have the one with only disgusting mayonnaise, whilst We shall have only tasty mustard. The first princess to finish her sandwich receives the apple and pie as a prize.”
I nodded vigorously. Get pie, get apple, and win an argument? Oh, and reconcile with my sister? Count me in. I’m ashamed to admit that smoothing things over with Luna came in at the bottom of my list of priorities, but in my defense, there was pie! “On the count of three?” I asked. I could smell the pie still baking, the light of the embers washing everything in a dull, reddish glow.
“THREE!” Luna shouted and swiped her sandwich off of the plate. I fumbled with my own sandwich with my hooves, trying to get the first bite. Luna tore a huge chunk out of her egg and mustard sandwich and began to chew, eyeing another bite. Not to be outdone, I wolfed down a big bite as well, leaving a perfect, semicircular hole at the edge of the sandwich.
Mayonnaise glided down my throat. The eggs kept me from gagging, but let me tell you, an egg salad sandwich without mustard is… unpleasant. The freshly baked bread probably kept both of us from losing it right then and there. Luckily for me, Luna didn't seem to enjoy her sandwich either. After only the first bite, she slowed way down. Of course, everything proceeded according to her devious plan.
Tearing off more sandwich, we raced to the finish. Or the crust, as the case may be. I stuffed the last bit in my mouth and began to chew, watching with nervous eyes as Luna did the same. I don’t recall chewing; I think I sort of inhaled it. “I HAVE WON!” I shouted.
Luna’s eyes went wide. She tried to speak, but the sandwich kept her from talking for the few precious seconds. I had put my hoof into her trap, and now she tried to spring it. Chewing, swallowing, then flopping forward in defeat, Luna said, “Very well, thou hast won. At least allow Us the apple; We haven’t eaten one in ages.” She gave the best puppy dog eyes she could, and topped it off with a puppy-like whimper.
You have to understand, young siblings want nothing more than what the other sibling has or wants. It’s custom-designed to create fights, tears, and exasperated parents, but that’s how young children work. Psychologically a child, but intellectually an adult, Luna existed in the perfect position to exploit this phenomenon. Let my sister have the apple while the apple pie finished baking? Not I. “Fie I say to thee, nay! I won it fairly,” I said. I snatched the apple from the plate, still warm. It felt a bit odd in my hooves, a bit too soft, but I chalked it up to the apple being half-baked.
Luna cried, “But I desire it!” She reached for it, too slowly. Again, this should have been a clue. Instead, I smirked in triumph, and took the largest bite of apple I could. I expected to taste sweet, succulent apple flesh. Instead, I tasted what can only rightly be called justice.
The disgusting, greasy, gooey, white mayonnaise of justice.
It was my fault, after all. I teased her, I accepted her challenge with a bitter heart, and I didn't share. She must have spent considerable time and effort to replace the entire apple’s flesh with mayo, and then replace the skin so it looked intact. Sputtering, coughing, I pounded my hooves on the floor. I had swallowed the first and only bite, the rest of the disgusting, greasy apple’s innards leaking out onto the floor. Luna laughed and laughed, mirth making her entire body quake. Her horn lit up and the apple pie lifted off of the rock in her aura. “Wish for succulent apple treat, do thee?” she asked with unrestrained malice. She held it under my muzzle; I could see my salvation through watery eyes.
I would have taken anything: bread, water, mustard, and of course apple pie. Anything to cleanse the taste out of my mouth. Luna didn't give me the chance. I could smell the pie, cinnamon, sugar, and heavenly apples; she ate it in one bite. She didn't get all of it; about half landed on the floor, but she didn't care. Laughing and chewing, she ate the pie with glee.
“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.
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?”
Applejack turned to Luna. “Do ya think you kin do that again? With the apple, I mean?” Applejack asked her.
Luna rubbed her eyes and replied, “We’re tired. How will making another mayo—," my stomach lurched as Luna caught herself, “another prank apple help?”
“Ah don’t mean an apple filled with ‘you know what.’ Ah mean another apple with a different filling. Think we kin do that?” Applejack asked.
Luna’s eyes glittered as she smiled. “What didst thou have in mind?” she asked.
“The idear came ta me when Ah saw ya eatin’ that cake. It’s filled with chocolate, right? An’ Luna here filled an apple with… stuff,” Applejack said, gesturing to Luna. “What if we filled an apple with somethin’ ya like? Maybe… Ah dunno, cake?”
I blinked at Applejack like a mole emerging from a dark burrow into the light. “That’s… BRILLIANT!” I exclaimed. “Sister, can you do it?” I asked of the sleepy-eyed Luna.
She scratched her chin with a still shod forehoof and said, “We think so. Vanilla cake bread for the filling, some red food coloring painted on the outside, and raspberry filling for the seeds...”
“What about the crunch?” Applejack asked. “Nopony wants ta eat a soft apple.” I looked downcast; cake didn't crunch. At least, good cake didn't crunch.
“What if we baked a hard candy shell around it? We could dye it red. That way, it will even shine like an apple as well,” Luna replied. She yawned again.
“That might work,” Applejack mused. She swiped her cowpony hat off the table, put it on her head, stood, and turned to me. “Think ya kin keep ponies away from the kitchens? Luna an’ I have some cookin’ ta do.”
Luna stood and stretched. I must have worn a manic grin, because they smiled back at me. I winked and said, “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in two hours.”
I sat in a meeting with the minotaur ambassador for the next two, endless hours. There existed a dispute between the minotaur nation and the gryphons; something about the gryphon king eating a hamburger during a recent trade negotiation had the minotaurs up in arms. I just couldn't pay attention— my mind always wandered back to the thought of cake.
During the meeting I wrote a note, pretending it was a missive to the gryphon king, when in reality the note read: I must meet with Luna in the kitchen for a top-secret meeting of the state. Clear the court and the servants’ passageway of any witnesses and check for magical scrying. When you are finished, return to me and say ‘it is done.’ Consume this note after you have read it and committed its contents to memory. I quietly slipped the note to Vigilance and nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief when Vigilance returned a short time later and spoke over the blathering minotaur ambassador with the words, “It is done.”
The minotaur ambassador droned on, gesturing wildly in the air while I thought about cake. “…And that’s when the gryphon ambassador threatened to cut off our supply of nose rings if I said the word ‘hamburger’ one more time, so I throttled him ‘til he squealed like a rooster. Now they’re demanding we provide them with hamburger meat to compensate—”
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, but I must be going now. I will consider your proposal,” I said, using stock answer number fifty-four. I stood and waited while Vigilance ushered him out. You’d be surprised how often ponies think I’m truly serene; half the time I’m just thinking about cake.
Once the room emptied, I darted around the circular meeting room table, making the crystal chandelier sway just a bit with my passing, and into the cramped servants’ door. Just a simple wooden door, but it and the hallway beyond gave me a feeling of claustrophobia. The servants fit neatly in this hall; I had to crouch a bit to make my way to the kitchen without banging my head. I none too gently bucked the door closed behind me in my excitement when I entered the kitchen, because, you know… cake! Don’t judge me. I’m allowed to be like that when I do everything else so well.
Inside the kitchen, I found only Luna and Applejack in the cavernous space. Pots and pans of every size hung from hooks set on the walls. A great larder hung open on the far wall, displaying its delicious contents. Two long steel tables dominated the space, a sink set in the middle of each one. The royal kitchen could produce enough food to feed a small army, literally. For now, Luna and Applejack were the only ponies in the room. Each wore a poofy chef’s hat. Luna mixed a bowl of… probably cake batter, judging by the smell, while Applejack watched the contents of an oven through the small window. A warm, orange glow leaked from that tiny window. Applejack peered inside like she was guarding a newborn foal.
Trotting past Luna with a wink, which she returned, I stood behind Applejack and asked, “So? Is it ready?”
Ding.
“Yep,” she replied. When she flipped the door open, heat wafted out of the oven. Inside sat what I can only describe as an apple. It didn't have a stem or a leaf hanging off of it like one might find on a teacher’s desk, but otherwise it looked exactly like an apple. Applejack took it out with a set of tongs and set it down on the table near Luna. Industrial lights from above made the apple look even better. And the smell! It smelled like sugar! “Give it a minute ta cool off, then ya kin try it.”
Smiling, I nodded. I bounced on my hooves while Luna yawned and kept mixing. “It smells good. Do you think it will work?”
Applejack smiled wide and said, “Ah can’t see why not. Think this’ll break yer fear of apples?”
I swallowed and said, “Let’s not be hasty, Applejack.” I saw hurt in her eyes, so I put a wing around her. She smelled faintly of apples again, but I did my best to ignore it. “I’m sorry; I would be most honored if you would break this curse upon me. Do you wish a knighthood or a title? Royal Curse Breaker, perhaps?” I chuckled.
She looked up at me; her eyes glittered. “Ah might take ya up on that. Ah’m gonna git ya ta taste an apple if it’s the last thing Ah do. Just ain't fair that the best pony in Equestria can’t eat an apple.”
I could feel myself flush. “Best pony, huh? I’m flattered, but let’s focus on the situation at hoof. I think it’s cool now.” I turned to the ‘apple’ on the table and lifted it with my magic. I brought it to my muzzle and took a deep breath. The sound of the spoon in the mixing bowl stopped, and I could feel Applejack holding her breath.
CRUNCH!
The candy shell tasted of sugar, the insides like vanilla cake. It even crunched because of the hard shell. So long as nopony looked too closely at it, I could keep eating this all day. I smiled warmly at Applejack and Luna. “I’m impressed. It even looks like an apple,” I said. I looked at the bite mark I had taken out of it and saw a small, dark dot near the center of the apple. My stomach got a bit watery, but I chalked that up to nerves. I’d have to do this in front of an audience in an hour. “What’s that dark spot? Raspberry filling?”
“Eeeyup, do you like it?” Applejack asked, hope in her voice.
“I most certainly do,” I replied. “Both of you have done a wonderful job.”
Luna sighed, and the wooden spoon clattered into the bowl. Her chef’s hat drooped as she groaned, “I’m going to bed. I’m sure Applejack can finish the creation of our… special apple.” The inflection in her voice told me she probably had something planned. I’m glad I’m on her side of the plan this time.
“Get some rest, dear sister. You've done more than enough today. Applejack, I’ll send Proper Attire to collect my dinner in about two hours. It would be appropriate if you created something simple,” I said, as I walked to the great door that led into the castle proper. Luna yawned wide and didn't bother to walk; she simply teleported away in a purplish flash of light.
“Ah’ll do mah best, Princess,” she said, as I opened the door and glanced out to ensure our privacy.
I didn't even turn around when I replied, “I have no doubt.”
I have doubts about this! I tried to keep a straight face as I kept chewing, sweat pouring down my brow. I ate what should have been raspberry-flavored seeds. Instead, I tasted apple.
Fluffy, soft, gooey, cinnamon-y, sugary, apple heaven.
In a flash, I understood. Applejack made good on her promise to break my hatred of apples. She had replaced the raspberry filling with apple filling instead. I swallowed, my stomach churned…
I smiled and took another bite. The cake tasted perfect: moist, but not watery; fluffy, but not airy. The apple filling tasted even better. I hadn't tasted it in so long it felt like a new sensation all over again. Cinnamon, sugar, and apples; such a simple combination, and yet… I had eaten rich food for so long I forgot what good, wholesome food tasted like. My stomach grumbled with hunger. More, it said.
I honestly don’t remember the rest of the meeting. Fancy and I exchanged pleasantries, we signed the contract, and the journalists took notes. Throughout the proceedings, I kept running my tongue over my teeth, trying to catch another taste of apple. The media seemed a bit disappointed; nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I felt light, as if a weight had been lifted off my back.
It took the better part of an hour, but the court eventually cleared. I told Vigilance to keep it that way until Luna began the night court, adding that she might be late, and I forbade him from waking her. I didn't need a grumpy sister the following morning.
I walked down the great hall, the guards bowing in time when Applejack trotted up behind me and fell into step. She had to keep trotting to keep up with my longer strides. “Didja like mah apple, Princess?”
I tilted my head to her and smiled, but said nothing until I reached my bedroom. The guards stopped Applejack with a cold glare, but I waved her through. Entering my chambers, I found a snoring Luna on my bed, the sheets wrapped tightly around her— her sleep must have been restless. Chuckling to myself, I flung open the balcony doors and lit my horn. It was time for the sun to go down. I’d have to raise the moon as well this night, but I didn't care one whit. I tasted apples!
Applejack stood beside me in the warm dusk. The solar balcony is rather quiet, despite the noise of the city. I’m so far removed from anypony that only a distant echo of their activity can be heard up here. Honestly, I’m closer to the sky than the ground. As the sun dipped below the edge of the world, painting the horizon in orange, red, and purple, I asked, “You just couldn't wait, could you?”
“Nnnope!” she drawled. “Ah didn't really feel right about it, either.”
“Right about what?” I asked, as I let go of the sun and focused on the moon.
Applejack took off her cowpony hat and held it to her chest. She looked down, out over Canterlot and said, “Ah didn't feel right foolin’ everypony like that; it didn't really feel honest. Plus, Ah wanted… needed you to like mah apples.” Her voice had a particular cadence, as if she spoke to herself.
“Why?” I asked simply. The moon rose slowly, a silver crescent in the night sky. I left the stars hidden by wispy clouds. I didn't want to intrude upon Luna’s duties more than I had to; she took them rather seriously.
“If ya didn't like mah apples… how could you like me? Ah’m an apple farmer,” she said. My heart broke.
I spoke quietly, but my voice had that edge in it again, clipping off every word. “You are not just an apple farmer.” I sighed, trying to soften my voice. She had done no wrong; it wouldn't do to admonish her. “You’re more than that, Applejack. Don’t ever think you’re nothing more than your job.”
Applejack mumbled, “What would Ah be if Ah weren't an apple farmer?”
I shot back, “You’d be Applejack! You’d still be... you. And the Element of Honesty. And… my friend, I hope.”
She drew closer to me, so I draped a wing over her to show that I meant what I said. “You mean that? Even if Ah smell like apples?”
“I cannot thank you enough for… breaking this cursed memory. I should have fixed this myself a long time ago, but old habits die hard, especially among immortals,” I said, as the moon settled into the sky. A bright halo circled the moon where its light pierced the clouds. “And yes, I do mean what I said. You would still be the Element of Honesty, even if you farmed oranges. Or asparagus. Or even if you weren't a farmer at all. What if you mined gemstones? Or built bridges? Or painted? These are just jobs, Applejack. You are not defined by your job; your job is defined by you.”
She snorted, “Painter? That’s jus’ crazy talk.” Applejack sighed, and then cleared her throat. “Maybe Ah kin help ya with yer other problem? You know, the one with the mayo?” she asked.
I pulled my wing back to my side and snorted. “Don’t push your luck!”
