“How do you expect me to eat that?” Prince Blueblood dropped his salad fork with a clang against the gold rimmed china plate. The dish set before him comprised a delicate display of three miniature potatoes accompanied by a splay of sliced heirloom tomatoes. He glared at the serving filly while gingerly sliding the plate aside with an outstretched hoof. “This is an outrage!”

The junior cook’s assistant cowered away from his wrath. “I’m very sorry, Your Majesty. The kitchen is all out of baby carrots—we’re waiting for a shipment that should arrive—“

“I don’t care about excuses! I want my lunch, and I want it now!” Blueblood shoved the unsuitable offering over the edge of the fifty-seat banquet table set for one. His current victim of contrived royal outrage dove to catch the plate as it fell. The filly deserved an award for the acrobatic save; she deserved another for every minute spent tolerating the belligerent royal stallion.

Gathering herself and the rescued plate, the poor serving filly quivered under the steely gaze of the Prince. “I’ll speak to the head chef, Your Highness. Perhaps he can find a suitable alternative.”

“See that you do, and tell him that I shall never stoop so low as to dine on peasant food—the very idea… Potatoes—the nerve!” Blueblood slumped back in his chair and dismissed the filly with a wave of his impeccably manicured hoof. Backing away slowly, she gratefully escaped through the open door, tail tucked securely between her legs.

Tossing back his head and flicking his horn, Blueblood summoned an oversized personal mirror to his side. He admired his reflection while preening his already glowing mane. After sufficient care had been taken to assure his flowing tresses were as stunning as always, he absently motioned to the guard stationed at the door. “You there, guard. Tell the Princess I will be late to high tea. Due to the incompetence of the royal kitchen, I won’t have sufficient time to relax prior to our afternoon engagement given the tardiness of my lunch.”

“Umm, why don’t you tell her yourself?” The guard snickered as he backed away, making room as the imposing form of Princess Celestia walked past him into the dining hall. Blueblood nearly dropped his mirror as he quickly adjusted his posture.

Celestia craned her neck around to the guard. “That will be all for now, Sir Lighthoof. Please extend my apologies to Miss Bluebell and the head cook. While you do so, please ask if she would be so kind as to join me for high tea in the castle gardens this afternoon.” Bowing her head, she met the salute from Sir Lighthoof who trotted off in search of the recently departed cook’s assistant.

Oblivious to the stern glare of the approaching Princess, Blueblood launched into deeply misguided rant. “I’m so glad you’re here, Princess. Something must be done about the deplorable menu selections coming out of the royal kitchen. To think they would ever consider serving a common potato—to me, a prince—I mean, what were they thinking? This is beyond unacceptable.”

“I agree. It is beyond unacceptable—” Celestia’s magic took hold of Blueblood’s chair and spun it around to face her. “—for a Prince of Equestria to behave in this manner. Sadly, I have allowed such behavior to continue far too long.”

The stunned Prince stared back in shock. “Wha? How? Whe—” He paused while the rusty wheels of thought creaked through a strained revolution. “M-Me? Surely you jest…” His face flushed as he tried to brush the accusation aside similar to his unwanted plate of perfectly acceptable food.

“I can’t help but feel I am at least partially to blame for your egregious behavior, Prince Blueblood. Though it pains me greatly to do so, I am left with no reasonable alternative.” Celestia shook her head as if trying to muster the courage to go through with her plan. “You leave me no choice but to strip you of your title—and your magic—until such time as you learn your proper place in this kingdom.”

Blueblood tried to respond, but the only sound that escaped his throat warbled akin to a foal’s pouting grunts requesting a long overdue sip from their mother’s teat. Celestia’s magic engulfed him immediately. With her eyes glowing white, the words she spoke echoed through the vacuous space between his ears. “What is lost must be found; let your search start within. Discover the keys to rule faithfully, and find your place again.”

The horn of the young Prince glowed brightly under the assault of Celestia’s spell. As quick as a candle being snuffed, that light went out. Blueblood gasped with the extinguishing blow to his inherent magical abilities. The swiftness of the Princess’s actions left him little time to ponder his fate or appeal her decision. All was done prior to the concept of fault even registering through his fog of delusion.

With a second wave of her horn, Celestia summoned a scroll sealed with golden wax bearing her personal suncrest mark. Reaching out, she lifted Blueblood’s drooping head while guiding the missive between his waving mane and drawn back ear. “Here are your instructions—just four simple steps. You’ll have ample time to read them over on the train. I've packed you a bag and sent word ahead. Now please, follow me and I will see to it that you start your journey off on the right hoof.”

Fighting back tears, the sullen stallion grappled with his fate. “Auntie Celestia, why are you doing this? Where are you sending me?”

“This is for your own good, nephew. I hope you learn your lesson quickly, but that will depend entirely on you.” Celestia laid a hoof on his shoulder urging him on. “Let’s hurry along now. You don’t want to be late. Once you get settled in, I know you’ll come to love—The Farm.”

---

Twilight peered down the tracks watching for signs of an approaching train. Applejack tapped her hoof nervously by her side. The letter from Princess Celestia hung in the air providing their only reason to be waiting on the evening train’s arrival in the gathering dusk of the Ponyville Train Station.

“I don’t get it, Twi. Why would the Princess send her nephew to Ponyville?” Applejack scanned down the message for what had to be the tenth time. “Why would she want him to work on the farm?”

“Celestia works in mysterious ways.” Twilight smiled and rolled up the letter. “Also, fun fact, since Luna never had foals, he’s technically a fourth cousin fifty-two times removed—on their mother’s side, of course. It’s just easier to say he’s their nephew since the royal family tree gets a little twisted about ten generations back.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I get to the genealogy portion of the farm chores.” Applejack returned the smile and gave Twilight a playful shove. “Whatever this is, we’re about to find out. Look!” Off in the distance, the headlamp of the Canterlot Express blinked over the crest of the rolling hills. A toot of the whistle signaled the train’s imminent arrival.

As soon as the engine came to a stop, ponies of all ages poured from the forward cars. Twilight and Applejack craned their necks above the drove to try and catch sight of the awaited traveler. As the chatter of the departing throng died down, Applejack singled out a lone stallion struggling with his bag trying unsuccessfully to command it down the steps of the caboose. Quickly, she hopped to his aid.

“Let me help you with that.” Applejack reached out a hoof to assist.

A growl rebuffed her offer. “She put me in coach—how dare she put me in coach!” Blueblood hopped over the pack and pony and landed on the platform. With a slight bend of his neck and an even slighter buckle in his knee, he addressed Twilight directly. “Princess Twilight, I hear you have a new castle and I can’t wait to see the royal guest rooms. I trust my accommodations shall attempt to make up for that atrocious method of conveyance.”

“Actually, Blueblood, the Princess wants you to stay at Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack replied. “We should probably get a move on since it’s gettin’ dark.”

Blueblood struck an appalled stance. “How dare you address your Prince in that tone! Servant ponies should know their place.” He waved off Applejack while appealing back to Twilight. “Are you just going to stand there and let this happen, Princess?”

“Let what happen?” Twilight exchanged a confused glance with Applejack. Cocking her head askew, she rebuked the former Prince. “This is my friend—she’s not a servant pony. And even so…” He wasn't listening.

Blueblood sat back on his haunches as he sized up Applejack. “Shall I infer you purport to be some form of attaché for said royal retreat, what was the name of it again, sweet something-or-other?” His hoof curled into a halfhearted attempt at a greeting as he reluctantly reached out to shake hooves.

“Name’s Applejack. Welcome to Ponyville, home of Sweet Apple Acres.” Applejack grabbed hold and vigorously shook his outstretched hoof with both of her own forehooves. “You’re going to love it here.”

“I doubt it.” Blueblood pulled back his hoof and gave it a gentle rub. “But I do hope your establishment knows how to properly stock a kitchen. That dreadful train ride has left me drained, and I must insist that dinner far exceeds my shallow expectations for this one-princess-town.” He stood and sauntered off in the direction of the departed crowd. His welcoming committee sat speechless just watching him go.

Twilight bowed her head and whispered to Applejack. “I’ll get his bags. It looks like you’re going to have your hooves full for a while.”

Applejack stared awkwardly at the departing stallion. “I sure hope the Princess knows what she’s doing, ‘cause I sure don’t.”

---

“How much, further, is it?” Blueblood panted, the physical exertion of having to walk across town somehow taking its toll on the pampered prince.

Applejack raised a hoof and pointed down the path ahead. “It’s just over that rise. You can see the light from the Apple farmhouse gettin’ brighter. Granny Smith is sure to have a scrumptious meal all laid out for us.”

“It’s not that far.” Twilight trotted on by with Blueblood’s bag in magical tow.

Blueblood sneered, “Maybe for you, Princess, but with every hoofstep I suffer this indignity. Having my magic torn from my horn while watching you flaunt yours is almost more than I can bear.”

Twilight pulled up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you carry your own bag.”

Blueblood swiftly altered course. “No, no. As you said, we’re almost there. I think I can manage a few more steps.” He picked up his gait and quickly caught up to Applejack heading over the final hill leading down to the Apple’s farm. Twilight sighed and followed.

In full view of the farmhouse resting under the soft glow of a full moon, Blueblood soldiered on. The battle raged in his head as he fought coming to terms with his sentence. Celestia had certainly crossed the line. He was a Prince of Equestria, after all. What could he possibly have done to warrant such harsh treatment? Stripping him of his title was bad enough, but going so far as to remove his magic—that was the ultimate punishment a Unicorn could suffer. Banishment would be better, although by the looks of things, he wasn’t far off from that either.

The trio rode up to the house and Twilight set Blueblood’s bag on the front steps. She reached over and gave Applejack a departing hug. “I appreciate your willingness to help. I’m sure the Princess is grateful as well. Let me know if there’s anything I can do and remember to stick to the rules. No special treatment.”

“I got it, Twi. He’s not a prince—at least not right now. He’ll be just another set of hooves to help around the farm.” Applejack leaned in closer. “The Princess didn't happen to mention how long he’d be here, did she?”

“Not exactly.” Twilight pulled out the original note. “Take this and help him follow the instructions she sent with him. I’ll be back to check up when I can.”

“I hope there’s some instructions in there for me too.” Applejack looked back at the house and her family standing in the doorway. Blueblood peered up at the Apples like an orphan sizing up a new foster home. Applejack sighed and turned back to Twilight. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Good luck!” Twilight spun around and spread out her wings leaping into the air. Her purple streak faded into the moonlight as Applejack rejoined the others.

“Blueblood, I’d like to introduce my family. This here’s Apple Bloom, Big Macintosh, and Granny Smith.” With a nod to the assembled group at the door, Applejack pointed back at Blueblood. “Apples, this is Blueblood, our new workingpony.”

Blueblood tossed his mane and turned up his nose. “Excuse me, but the honorific of Prince, Highness, Majesty or likewise shall always be used when addressing my royal self.”

“Eeeenope,” Big Mac replied as he spat an ear of wheat from his mouth.

“Sorry, Princess’s orders. It’ll be plain old Blueblood till I hear different.” Applejack waved her family off. “Let’s get to eatin’ so we can all get to sleepin’. We've got a big day tomorrow.”

Without complaint, the Apples all bolted for the kitchen. Blueblood’s pride took a hit, but he followed along sluggishly under Applejack’s insistence. The smell of fresh food helped sway his decision. Waiting in the kitchen, he found a stark wooden table with a fifth odd chair pulled up along the end. Five steaming plates overloaded with heaping mounds of some sort of brown substance made him reconsider his choice to join the family for dinner.

“What is this?” Blueblood squinted as he sat down and poked a hoof at his food.

“It’s an old Apple family recipe. Baked apples, boiled apples, and sautéed apples with a big ol’ steaming deep-fried apple on top.” Granny Smith beamed from across the table. “Got some apple cobbler cooling in the window for dessert.”

Blueblood’s appetite sank as his stomach groaned. “You wouldn't happen to have any baby carrots, would you?” The slender smile attached to his pitiful plea belied his inner rage.

As a group, the four Apples stared back at him with wide eyes. With hardly a second thought, they all turned back to their plates and made quick work of devouring their dinner.

Watching the others and fighting the enticing smell of the baked, boiled, sautéed, and deep-fried delight in front of him, Blueblood stood firm. His stomach tried to overrule his stubbornness, but that was asking quite a bit. The biggest problem he faced was getting the food off his plate and into his mouth. Another battle of pride mired in defeat from the outset since he refused to lower his head to the level of his plate. Celestia’s punishment smacked him right in the horn where it hurt the most as he stared at his fork and pitied his loss of magic in using it.

One by one, the Apples cleared their plates. One by one, they helped themselves to a slice of pie, which they also devoured. One by one, they rose from the table and washed off their dish. One by one, they said their good-nights and retired to bed. The lights went out, and soon only Blueblood remained at the table. Alone in the moonlight, he continued to stare at his plate and the enemy fork beside. Never in his life had he felt so lost and forsaken.

As he sat and sulked in the knowledge of all that had been taken from him, Applejack quietly approached. A lantern hung from her neck and shone a light across the otherwise dark kitchen. She had left her hat on its bedroom wall hook and her mane and tail hung loose without the simple red ties normally gathering the corn-yellow strands together. A flannel nightgown draped over her flank came trimmed with a simple lace edge which softened her ordinarily rough exterior.

Blueblood hung his head. “Have you come to gloat?”

“I came to see if there was anything you needed before I hit the hay.” Applejack swung herself into a chair and set the lantern on the table.

“Just leave me alone. You have no idea what I’m going through.” Blueblood continued to stare at his plate of assorted cold apples.

“I reckon you could use someone to talk to.” Applejack cocked her head to one side trying to catch his undivided attention. “There anything you feel like gettin’ off your back? I promise I’ll try my best to understand.”

“How could an Earth Pony ever understand what it’s like for a Unicorn to be without his magic?” Blueblood turned away, careful to avoid showing his face and the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes.

“It’s probably a lot like being without your friends and family, I reckon.” Applejack hung her head and fidgeted with a loose thread on her nightgown. “A wise old pony once told me, ‘You never know what you have until it’s gone.’”

“I suppose I better get used to life without magic then.” Blueblood’s babbling turned to blubbering as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. In a moment of total self-pity, he turned back to Applejack. “Perhaps you could make yourself useful and find me a suitable place where a boulder could be dropped on my head?”

Applejack scratched at her mane and returned an awkward stare. “Now why in tarnation would you want that?”

“I've lost my title, I've lost my magic, and I’m surrounded by Earth Ponies. I've got nothing left to live for!” Blueblood reached across the table and grabbed Applejack by the shoulders. “Help me end it all before I start talking like you too!”

Applejack swatted away Blueblood’s advance with a simple wave of her foreleg and followed up with a painfully obvious rebuttal. “Why don’t you just follow Celestia’s instructions and get your life back in order?”

He fell back in his seat with a dramatic flourish. “B-because! I don’t know how!” His lip quivered as he struggled to hold himself together. “I was born a Unicorn Prince in the royal court of Canterlot. I've never been without my magic, and I've always had a servant to take care of everything else.” He shook his head forward and knocked the scroll off letting it fall to the table. “Without my magic, I don’t even know how to pick up a fork, let alone a scroll. Even if I did, I never learned how to read—I always had somepony else do it for me!”

“Well, that sure explains a lot. I’m pretty sure that’s why you’re here—to learn what you never had a chance to learn as a prince.” Applejack reached out and opened the scroll. With only four lines to read, she quickly scanned the list and gazed up into Blueblood’s red and swollen eyes. “Celestia’s list don’t sound too complicated, and I’m willin’ to help you with it if that’s what you want.”

Blueblood’s tears left a glistening trail down both cheeks. He looked up and past the lantern to the glowing face of the mare offering him assistance. How could she possibly help me? Why would I let her? Competing thoughts raced through his mind as the ongoing battle of pride versus humility fought for ultimate dominance. His self-worth gauge was at an all-time low and there seemed nowhere left to go, but up.

“Applejack,” he whispered, “I need your help.” Pride took a tumble as he altered course.

Applejack set the scroll down as the first line began to glow turning from black to gold ink. Looking over at the inquisitive Blueblood, she read what it said. “Ask for help.” She smiled and nodded. “See, that wasn't so hard—only three more to go. Now, how about we get you something to eat and start fresh in the morning?”

“That sounds delightful.” Blueblood wiped away his tears and broached a pitiful attempt at a smile. The prospect of food overshadowed his mission to reclaim his magic and title for a brief moment. “I’ll have a plate of peeled baby carrots with a sprig of asparagus—and a cup of honey infused tea.”

Applejack shook her head. “How ‘bout an apple?”

“Uhh, I-I don’t think that’s wise.” Blueblood’s lip shook as he stared down at the cold plate of apple delight. “Could I get a fresh one, perhaps?” Applejack nodded and stood up to fetch a raw apple from the bushel basket in the corner. Blueblood qualified his request, “Could you peel and core it as well? I hate it when those little bits get stuck in my teeth.”

She paused a moment as she grabbed for a Red Delicious off the top of the pile. “How ‘bout I show you how to do it yourself?”

Blueblood chuckled uneasily. “I can’t even manage a fork, and you want me wielding a knife? Are you mad?” His stomach groaned in desperation.

Applejack relented, taking pity on her starving guest. “Alright, just this once. But you gotta promise, starting tomorrow, that your attitude is gonna change.”

“I-I promise.” Blueblood averted his eyes and hung his head. He wasn't sure what he promised, but he knew it came with a meal. That was all that mattered at the moment.

Applejack peeled and cored the apple like a pro. Laying her creation on the table, she took a step back narrowly avoiding Blueblood as he dove in and devoured it whole. A few chomps and a giant swallow later, he pushed back from the table. Without a word of thanks, he motioned toward the door. “I shall retire now. Lead the way to the royal guest house.”

“The what?” Applejack grabbed the lantern and tossed the strap around her neck.

“The royal accommodations—I assume that’s what the red building in the courtyard is for. It looks a little small, but given the circumstances, it will have to do.”

Applejack chuckled. “Suit yourself.” She led the way out of the kitchen, through the front room, and straight out the front door. With a kick and a flip of her hind leg, Blueblood’s bag landed on her back. Guest in tow, she trotted to the barn and swung back the door. Standing aside, she motioned him inside.

“Do you provide a turn-down service?” Blueblood queried as he peered into the dark interior.

“Not exactly, but we do provide a g’night service.” Applejack waited as Blueblood sauntered into the barn. Once through the door, she tossed his bag in after him. “There’s a nice pile of hay over in the corner. G’night!” With another buck, she slammed the door shut and trotted off toward the farm house. She was going to need every ounce of sleep she could get to put up with this royal pain in her flank.

---

For a pony who hadn't worked a single day in his life, Blueblood caught on pretty quick. Work was hard. Bound to a cart and struggling to keep pace, he called ahead, “Applejack, I need a break. This harness is starting to chafe. Can’t we rest for a moment?”

“Buck up and deal, Blue. We've got a lot of work to do today and you ain't seen the half of it yet.” Applejack scooped up the handle of another basket of apples in her mouth and trotted over to her next delivery. Blueblood wiped the sweat from his eyes and fussed with his mane to try and extract more of the hay that had embedded itself over the course of a restless night.

With only a half dozen or so stops left, it was taking longer than Applejack anticipated. The extra help she was getting slowed her down considerably. The cart load diminished as they went, but some goods also came back in trade. Blueblood’s incessant whining made the work drag on even more.

On her return, he posed yet another question making an even dozen on the morning. “Tell me again how this works—you trade for things you need?”

“That’s right. We give our neighbors the apples that we grow on the farm, and they give us whatever they make in trade.” Applejack tossed a bottle of milk on the cart and started off down the path again. “Sometimes they just pay with bits, but it’s nice when we both get something we need.”

Blueblood strained to get the cart moving again so he could follow. “But not everypony pays you in bits or makes an exchange of goods, so why do you still give them your apples?” The intricacies of the system confused him to no end. As a prince, everything he wanted had always been laid at his hooves. Money and trade were foreign concepts meant for those born to the common class. The money part he partially understood due to the number of affluent ponies in Canterlot, but the idea of Applejack giving away her goods freely baffled his mind.

“Not every pony can afford to buy our apples, but that don’t mean they don’t need ‘em.” Applejack gestured back down the path. “That young mare a couple blocks back can barely afford to keep a roof over her head—and she’s got a hungry foal to feed as well. I've got plenty of apples, and it won’t hurt me none to give her some extras.”

“But you make her work off her debt, don’t you?” Blueblood brushed back his mane ejecting a spray of hay chaff.

“She’s already got a job, and what little time she isn't working, she spends with her young’un.” Applejack steered the cart and driver around. “Let’s go back and I’ll show you what I mean.” Blueblood followed her direction and slowly made the turn. Retracing his steps down the path, the weight of the cart seemed to double.

They pulled up in front of a small house on the edge of town and Applejack released Blueblood from the harness. She reached into the cart and pulled out a bucket of carrots tossing in the recently acquired bottle of milk. Passing over to Blueblood, she shoved the bucket handle in his mouth. “Go over there and knock on the door. When she answers, give her this food,” Applejack ordered.

Blueblood slapped a hoof to his forehead in salute and shuffled off toward the house. With the bucket hanging from his mouth, he could hardly object. It did feel nice to be free of the cart harness, however.

Coming up to the drab wooden door, he reached out and knocked. From within, he could hear the voice of a young filly. “Mommy, somepony’s at the door. Can I get it?” He didn't catch a reply, but the handle turned and the door swung in. Standing in the doorway, a light-lavender filly with a golden mane and big orange eyes stared up at him. The tip of a horn barely emerged from the crown of her head through a mess of tangled hair.

Blueblood stared down at the little one. Bucket handle still in his mouth, he tried to speak. “Ith yer mother hoe?” The filly just sat there with a wide grin and blinked once in response.

Coming to the rescue, a young Pegasus mare rounded the corner and stepped in front of the filly. She pulled the little pony back, scolding her actions. “What have I told you about opening the door to strangers, Dinky?”

The little one hung her head. “That I should wait for you cause I’m not a grown-up.”

Blueblood wasted no time with pleasantries and dropped the bucket on the ground. “These are for you, I guess.”

The young mare glanced down at the offering and shook her head. “But… I can’t pay for those.” She reached out a hoof and tried to push the food away.

Blueblood placed a hoof on the bucket and motioned over his shoulder. “She says I’m supposed to give them away. I guess she doesn't want them.”

The Pegasus raised her head and peered out into the street. “Oh, hello again, Applejack. Didn't you just give us some apples?”

“We had some extra stuff,” Applejack replied. “Thought you’d like some milk and carrots.”

“I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you!” Biting her lip, she moved aside as Dinky scampered through her legs and hoisted the bucket handle over her little horn before gleefully retreating into the house. The grey mare gestured after her with her foreleg, addressing her guests. “Please come in and have some lunch then. I’m sure I can whip up a carrot-apple salad in no time.”

“Sorry, Derpy. We’re way behind as it is. You two enjoy and be sure and let me know if you need anything else.” Applejack quickly slipped into the cart harness. “C’mon Blueblood, we need to finish our route so we can get back to the farm.”

“Thank you so much, Applejack. We really appreciate it.” Derpy waved and pulled back inside before shutting the door in Blueblood’s face.

Blueblood’s jaw dropped an inch. He turned back to Applejack, and then back at the door, and then back at the departing Applejack. “But… the carrots?” His appeal fell on deaf ears as Applejack broke into a trot leaving him stunned, shaken, and pretty far behind once he realized he better catch up.

To save some time, Applejack made Blueblood deliver the rest of the load. With the promise of lunch to follow, he made short work of the task and hardly complained. The image of the mare and her filly remained at the fore of his thoughts, however. For the remainder of the route, Applejack gave instruction to simply give away the apples and not receive anything in return. With each successive delivery, the image of the first stood out even more.

Blueblood struggled to understand the warm feeling spreading inside him. He tried to pass it off as hunger, but it didn't quite fit. This was something new; something he didn't know existed. These ponies received something for nothing, and they weren't even royalty. Words he rarely heard nipped at his ears with each encounter. “Thank you,” they said. “You’re welcome,” came his hesitant response.

Applejack smiled and tipped her hat to her grateful patrons. A priceless lesson learned was worth all the apples she had to give. She pulled out Blueblood’s instructions from under her hat and watched as the second line changed to gold. Care about somepony other than yourself. Glancing down at the next two lines, she figured it would take more than apples to help him overcome the rest of Celestia’s simple checklist.

---

With the sun having set, the evening meal paid ample reward for an honest day’s work. For Blueblood, the first-hoof experience of bringing food to the table felt akin to torture. Starting the day in the orchard collecting fruit for delivery, followed by a slogging trek into town, his body firmly objected to the concept of forced labor. Having spent the whole afternoon dragging a plow blade through the fields, his royally weak muscles streaked past objecting and fell straight to surrender. He moaned and groaned as Applejack tried to ease his pain.

“I changed my mind. This is worse than death. Kill me now!” Blueblood hung his head over the edge of the couch. He lay flat on his back and rocked from side to side. His legs stuck out at odd angles while off the other end, his tail hung limp.

“Just close your eyes and relax.” Applejack stuffed another pillow under his neck and continued to knead through his mane.

“I can’t feel my hooves! My legs are numb from the knees down.” Blueblood’s wailing hit a high note as Applejack dug through a rough spot above his shoulders.

“I promise you’ll pull through. You’re just sore from tugging the plow is all.” Applejack could see the raw skin beneath remnants of hair where the plow harness rubbed against the nape of his neck.

“That infernal contraption has maimed me for life,” Blueblood sniffled between ragged gasps as Applejack worked her massage magic down into his foreleg.

“Don’t be silly. Hard work’s good for you—ain’t that right, big brother?” Applejack peeked up at Big Mac and the others watching from the kitchen.

Big Mac slurped up the last of his apple-noodle soup. Swallowing hard, he eyed the Prince. “Eeeyup.”

“A good night’s sleep and you’ll be right as rain,” Granny Smith called out.

Blueblood looked up in terror. “Please don’t make me sleep in the guest house! I’ll sleep anywhere but there.”

“Actually, I was going to let you sleep in my room.” Applejack bit her lip considering the less than perfect accommodations she left him with the night before. “I can bunk with Apple Bloom and you can have my bed. How does that sound?”

Blueblood strained to lift himself from the couch. What little energy he had left wasn't enough to do much more than roll him on his side. With a weary sigh, he laid his head back down on the pillow. “I’ll just stay here—I don’t think I can make it up the stairs.”

Having cleared their plates, the Apples filed past giving little heed to the invalid occupying their front room. The troop marched on up the stairs with barely a whisper of “good night” meant strictly for Applejack herself. They had all had their fill of the prissy prince.

Applejack pulled the blanket from the back of the couch down over Blueblood. Getting up, she walked around the room extinguishing the candles and welcoming in the moonlight. Hoisting the final light of her lantern around her neck, she paused as she walked by her charge and gave him a parting pat on the head. “You done good today, Blue.” With no immediate reply, she made her way to the stairs.

A strained voice called out as she laid her hoof on the first step. “Applejack, could I ask you something?”

Applejack turned back. “Sure, Blue. What’s on your mind?”

“Why do you think Celestia hates me?” Blueblood’s comment hung in the air, heavy in the silence that followed.

Applejack crossed back over to the couch and sat down on a nearby seat. “Blueblood, you got it all wrong. Celestia don’t hate you; she’s trying to help you.”

“Then why did she take my magic and send me away? Why make me work on a farm? I fail to see how that possibly translates to assisting me in any way.”

“Honestly, I don’t know why she did all that, but I trust she’s got her reasons.” Applejack lifted the lantern from her neck and set it on the table. “Maybe she figured you needed to learn some stuff here on the farm—stuff she couldn't teach you living in a castle in Canterlot.”

Blueblood turned to face the lantern. “Being a prince is all I've ever known. I never stopped to consider where the food I ate came from, until today.” He held a sore hoof in front of his face. “I had no idea growing it was so hard. I’ll never look at carrots the same way again—or apples for that matter.”

“I was raised on the farm. Hard work’s a part of my blood. I got no idea what it feels like to live in a fancy castle with a bunch of ponies doing all the work for me.” Applejack smiled in the flickering light of the lantern. “Actually sounds kind of nice.”

“It is.” Blueblood pushed himself up a bit, wincing through the pain. His soft blue eyes caught the gleam from the lantern, and he bowed his head. “Thank you, Applejack. I guess I've got a lot to learn and you’re an amazing pony to help me through all this. It seems I've been a terrible prince and I've got a lot of making up to do.” He slumped back down and heaved a heavy sigh. “I just wish it wasn't so hard.” Catching a shimmer out of the corner of his eye, he cast a sideways glance at his benefactress. “Applejack, why is your hat glowing?”

Applejack reached up and took the hat from her head. Inside, the instruction scroll glowed brighter than the light from the dying lantern. She pulled it out and showed Blueblood the transformation of the third item on Celestia’s list. “Three down and one to go. Looks like you’re not such a bad student after all.”

“I figure I've got a pretty special teacher—by the way, what does it say?” Blueblood’s pained grimace curled into a slight smile.

“Sorry, forgot you can’t read.” Applejack held the scroll near his face and pointed out the words as she spoke. “Be honest with yourself.” She scratched her head and blushed in the fading light of the glowing ink turned gold. “Guess I am sort of an expert on that topic. Still, that all came from you, Blue.”

“Maybe there’s still hope for me yet.” Blueblood turned his head and stared at the ceiling. “Then again, Celestia probably saved the hardest one for last.” With a yawn, he settled back into the pillow. “Would you mind telling me what it says?”

Applejack looked down at the scroll and then back over at Blueblood. “This last one’s only as hard as you want to make it. Could be easy; could be tough. It says, Treat others like you want to be treated.” She reached over and pulled the blanket back over his forelegs. “Tomorrow’s another day and we can work on it together. Sleep tight, Blue.”

“Thanks, AJ. You too.” Blueblood closed his eyes as Applejack gathered her things. Before she reached the upper landing, he was fast asleep.

---

Twilight soared over the east orchard. A mid-morning breeze rustled the leaves of the trees below as she caught sight of her friend. Banking into a spiral descent, she floated in for a landing. Applejack’s back hooves connected with a sturdy tree trunk and the resulting rain of apples filled the strategically placed bushel baskets below.

“Good morning, Applejack,” Twilight began with a smile. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you and Blueblood were doing. I hadn't heard anything in over a day and I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.”

“He’s not here,” Applejack said with a grunt as she bucked into a second trunk. “I put him on the train to Canterlot first thing this morning.”

Twilight drew back warily. “Is something wrong? Did you have a fight?”

“Nope.” Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “He’s all reformed, so he went home.”

“He what?!” Twilight squealed in shock. “How did that happen?”

Applejack reached under her hat and pulled out the scroll of instructions which she tossed over to Twilight. “See for yourself.”

Twilight read through the list in the blink of an eye. Pausing at the end, she questioned, “Why is the last line written in black ink and the rest in gold?”

“Because he’s not done takin’ care of that one yet.” Applejack just smiled as Twilight’s brain kicked into rational overdrive.

“So, you lied to me?”

“Never!” Applejack sneered at the notion. “Blueblood’s as flipped around as winter turned summer. He just wanted to get back home and tie off some loose ends. I got a feelin’ that last line’s about to light up like the rest any moment now.”

“I've known Blueblood for years and he’s always been a huge—royal—pain in the flank.” Twilight rubbed at her temple trying to ease the pain of an equation that wasn't adding up. “How did you do it?”

Applejack burst out in full on laughter. “I have no idea. I reckon he changed all by himself. All he wanted this morning was a bucket of carrots and scrawny potatoes and some help getting’ on the train.”

“That doesn't make any sense.” Twilight struggled with the idea of a reformed royal pain—especially when the turnaround seemed to happen so quickly. “Are you sure he’s not faking it?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be. Even wrote a note to the Princess saying as such.” Applejack waved Twilight toward the farmhouse and started walking in that direction. “Don’t believe me, you can ask the family.”

Twilight followed along still mired in thought. “You've got to tell me everything that happened. I’m going to need to write a paper on this.”

Applejack just smiled and kept on walking.

---

It took a little coaxing, but Blueblood eventually won over Celestia. Applejack’s letter certainly helped seal the deal. Fresh off the morning train, he had raced to the throne room and begged for a chance to make things right. Hesitantly, she granted his request—if for nothing more than sheer curiosity to see how things would play out.

The time arrived and the anxious Prince stood to the side of the dining hall table. Having made a valiant effort at setting three seats for lunch, he awaited his guests. Celestia watched from the shadows on a balcony overlooking the hall.

From the far doors, a stallion in a royal guard tunic and a mare in a stunning blue-silk gown approached. Sweat began to bead on Blueblood’s forehead. Sir Lighthoof and Bluebell, the junior cook’s assistant, looked nervous as well. Steadily, they inched their way forward.

“Thank you for coming,” Blueblood beamed with the best smile he could muster. “Please, have a seat.” He moved to hold the chair for Bluebell as she slid into place at the head of the table. Her eyes remained fixed on the royal guard hoping that he would come to her rescue at the first sign of trouble. Sir Lighthoof kept watch of Blueblood as he and the Prince each took to their respective seats.

An awkward silence fell over the trio as the new arrivals sat perplexed, eager and waiting to hear the reason for their summons. The odd pairing of potatoes and carrots resting on their plates added to the general confusion.

Blueblood took a deep breath. “First, I want to say I’m sorry.” The hard part done, he felt some relief as he continued. “I've been asleep, but my eyes are open now. I’m sorry I didn't wake sooner. Can you both find it in your hearts to forgive me—especially you, Miss Bluebell?”

If ever there was a time where the word dumbfounded fit, this was it. Lighthoof and Bluebell couldn't believe what they had just heard. An apology from the Prince was like Twilight failing a test—it never happened. Amid their confusion, a slight nod of the head signaled their joint witness of the miracle.

Blueblood glanced down at the plates and pointed to the food. “Next, I made you lunch. I hope you like it—I dug it out and cooked it all myself.”

Bluebell couldn't contain herself any longer. “Like, from the ground?!” she screeched.

“Straight from the fields of Sweet Apple Acres, fresh this morning,” Blueblood beamed.

“But you never get your hooves dirty…” Bluebell was beside herself in the midst of a minor panic attack. “This is too much; I can’t take anymore. Who are you, and what have you done with Prince Blueblood?”

Blueblood drew back, cowering a bit from the assault. “I hope you like your dress. I paid extra to make sure it matched your coat.”

“You paid? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Bluebell lost it. Sir Lighthoof jumped to her side and tried to comfort her.

“Is that a yes?” Blueblood peered over the top of his hooves which had shot up in self-defense on instinct.

“Just… Give me a minute,” Bluebell huffed as she tried to calm her breathing.

Sir Lighthoof gently stroked her mane. “It is a lovely color. Very fine work indeed.”

Following the shock and subsequent processing of the situation, they all took their seats again. Bluebell wanted to know more. “How in the hay is this possible? What made you change?”

Blueblood thought for a moment. He wanted to make sure he could verbalize what he felt in his heart. Looking Bluebell straight in the eyes, he answered, “It all boils down to this—I was a carrot that thought he was too good for the potato. I see now that I was wrong.”

Bluebell stared back in wonder. “I never thought I’d see the day.” Shaking her head, she picked up her fork and stabbed a potato from her plate. Holding out the bite, she waited for the Prince. Blueblood leaned forward and partook of her offering. The not-so-well-cooked potato crunched in his teeth, but he swallowed it anyway. Bluebell smiled. “How about you let me do the cooking next time?”

“How about you teach me how to cook?” Blueblood smiled back.

“How about I leave you two alone?” Sir Lighthoof stood up from the table and turned to walk away.

“Aren't you going to stay for lunch?” Blueblood inquired.

“Sorry, but I already ate—Your Majesty.” Sir Lighthoof bowed to the Prince and made to take his leave.

Blueblood shook his head. “No need to call me that—my friends call me Blue.”

Sir Lighthoof glanced back at the pair. “Works for me—Blue.” He smiled and trotted off toward the door leaving the couple to themselves.

Blueblood called out to the departing guard, “Spread the word. I want the whole castle to join us for lunch from now on. Everypony deserves to be treated like royalty!”

Sir Lighthoof just shook his head as he left the dining hall. The stallions back in the barracks were never going to believe him until they saw it with their own eyes.



Up on the balcony, Luna strode up next to Celestia and yawned. “Art thou going to restore our nephew’s magic and title now?”

“It can probably wait for later.” Celestia peered down at the happy couple now daring each other to eat another bite of the ill-prepared meal. “I wouldn't want to interrupt them right now.”

“Then tell me this, why must you make a point of turning the black ink, gold? Why not silver?”

“That’s just silly, sister. Who’s ever heard of the Royal Silver Rules?” Celestia grinned and patted Luna on the head. “And, just so we’re clear, he’s our fourth cousin, fifty-two times removed.”

“I know. Princess Twilight keeps reminding me. Couldn't we change that by royal decree?”

“I don’t think the Royal Family Tree would survive another decree like that, dear sister.” Celestia reached down and rubbed her growling stomach. “I’m hungry. What do you say we go get something to eat?”

“As long as it’s not carrots—the royal cook was serving them for every meal, so I had to banish the little orange beasts from the kitchen last week.”

“Agreed,” Celestia replied. “We may need to do the same thing with the potatoes now too.”



Back on a farm in Ponyville, the words Treat others like you want to be treated burst into flame and consumed the royal instructions.