Applejack wasn’t a resentful pony.
Others looked up to her. For her rugged strength, simplistic know-how, and courage, some ponies wanted to be her. It was humbling, really. For a pony like Applejack, the praise thrown to her—sometimes at random—would always shift the eyes and warm the cheeks.
Everyday was worth the ache in her legs after ten hours of work. Used to be, Applejack didn't care much for the praise when she traveled to Ponyville to retrieve Applebloom from school. Well, she pretended not to care, anyway.
Indeed, over time, it grew on her. The cheers, the shouts, the ponies lined up before her apple-stand, filling her money jar with 'new tools', 'crop seeds', and 'Applebloom's tuition', became a way of life. And through it all--through normalcy utterly wrecked by the five crazy ponies she came to befriend and love--Applejack found nectar sweeter than any fruit could hold.
One day, none of that mattered.
The whistles, the hollers, the sly winks from potential suitors, none of it. There was only one reason. A reason worse than a paraspite swarm. Worse than a full apple-cart with an empty money-jar. Worse than comparing apples to oranges.
And that reason was Filthy Rich.
A dedicated customer, a long-time family friend… a two-faced, backstabbing, traitor. ‘Bouncing sales,’ he said. ‘Insufficient crop supply’, ‘Decreased quality’. Useless reasons, the lot of them, pouring from his mouth like sludge from a sewer pipe.
There was no reason good enough for Applejack. There was no reason, or excuse to cut the Apple Family funding, and Applejack had explicitly said that. The Apples and Riches had helped one another thrive since before Applejack learned to crawl, long before she was even conceived. She could not, would not let harvesting-deprivation ruin her family.
But she failed.
She fought the good fight, like she always had; with grit teeth and scraped hooves, Applejack fought for Sweet Apple Acres. She nearly struck Filthy Rich in the teeth every time her promises of a better harvest met a shaking head. But doing so wouldn’t restack her farms sale’s quota, or make him reconsider. The deal was broken.
And it was hopeless. Hopeless. Utterly, irredeemably hopeless. Even with family ties as tightly knit as theirs, and orchards spewed across Equestria like weeds in an abandoned garden, The Apple Family had to look out for their own.
They had their own business partners, their own income. Many orchards had barely enough to get by, and even the more bountiful orchards couldn’t afford handouts or extra mouths to feed.
And so, Sweet Apple Acres was alone, isolated and driven by nothing but survival. Driven by the fuel that would keep Big Macintosh plowing, would keep Applebloom hammering away at her schooling, and would keep Granny Smith alive.
But Applejack?
Applejack knew it wasn’t enough. Perhaps, though unspoken, they all knew that. From the very steps Filthy Rich took away from the Acres, the very fears that guided her eyes to the east, where Manehatten stood, and tempted her to sell oranges for a living, Applejack knew the truth;
Sweet Apple Acres would rot away in a year.
It was for that very reason, Applejack openly wept in front of all her friends. Nothing they said helped. Nothing they said sewed the gash in her heart, or brightened her family’s future. But that day, like many, many days after, Applejack regret ever showing weakness at Sugarcube Corner. Worse, showing weakness to Pinkie Pie.
The last thing Applejack needed was a pity partner. Most of her friends knew that. But not Pinkie, no… Pinkie cried with her. Pinkie hurt with her. Pinkie writhed and shouted with her.
Because they both knew it was all Pinkie’s fault.
**********
Applejack wasn’t a resentful pony.
Her actions always showed that, had always proven it. Even as her farm withered, kept afloat by avid sales, skipped meals, and workload that would make Snowflake cry, Applejack kept a stiff upper lip. Good nature, eagerness to help ponies in need, all of it stayed with her. All of it kept her pulling apple-carts through deteriorating fields, kept her bucking rigid tree trunks with pride and sweat.
Pinkie Pie ruined all of that.
She was good to Applejack, yes, but if the word ‘no’ was in Pinkie’s vocabulary, Applejack would have fewer creases on her forehead. Maybe.
But Pinkie knew nothing of this ‘no’. If Pinkie had, she wouldn’t be working the fields with Applejack. Well, trying to work the fields, anyway. It was pitiful. Downright pathetic. Where trees should’ve been bucked, they were gently nudged. Where planted seeds should have been watered, they were spoken to instead.
It was after a whole month of Pinkie’s ‘help’ that Applejack finally snapped.
“Go home, Pinkie Pie.”
Were it possible, Applejack would swat the words away before it reached Pinkie’s ears. Of course, it’d be too late anyway. Applejack knew that when the cart behind her stopped. With her own cart on tow, Applejack stopped as well and sighed.
She wanted to take it back, or at the very least, pretend Pinkie just dropped something. But as Applejack turned, she saw Pinkie frowning at the grass.
“Listen, Sugarcube, “Applejack said, unharnessing herself and stepping to her fellow earth pony. “I appreciate…” No. Applejack was no liar. “Ya don’t belong here, Pinkie.”
By the sun and moon she tried not to wince, tried to keep her brows flat. But Pinkie’s tears battered against her defenses like waves against jagged rocks. Pinkie looked up at her, frowning against her held tears.
“I said I’d help you, Applejack. I Pinkie Promised.” Pinkie’s voice squeaked out. A weak and timid little thing.
Applejack had grown tired of hearing that. “I reckon y’all helped enough when ya ran my farm to the ground!”
Pinkie frowned harder, her tears now falling freely. But not two seconds after, her eyes softened. Applejack flinched and looked away, having grown wary of this tactic. The Cutie-mark mix-up was to blame, not Pinkie. Applejack had no reason, no right, to blame her.
But Applejack did blame Pinkie. And that time, a pleading look wasn’t going to change that.
“Pinkie, I won’t tell y’all aga—“
“No.”
Applejack’s sentence sputtered out. “W-what?”
“I said no!” Pinkie’s hoof hit the wilting grass with her last word. “I’m not leaving you!”
For the longest time—indeed the longest time in her whole life—Applejack stood completely still, frozen by Pinkie’s determined, tearful gaze. Sugarcube Corner. The Cakes. Her whole life in Ponyville. Applejack could’ve used any of those to convince Pinkie to leave. Instead, the apple farmer asked a question that haunted her for weeks.
The same question that first spawned when Pinkie ‘invited’ herself to stay one night. The same question that festered as one night became many. The same question pelting Applejack’s heart every time Pinkie over worked herself, insisted on making breakfast every morning, or thrust herself into Applejack’s bed when nights were breezy and cold.
“Why, Pinkie?” At this, Pinkie raised a brow at Applejack. “What do ya want from me??”
Pinkie’s eyes reunited with the grass. “I don’t want anyth—“
“Then why, consarnit?!” Applejack’s lips quivered, her tears finally surfacing. “Why do y’all care so much?! We Apples are a tough bunch, y’all know that! Ya don’t gotta be here! Ya don’t gotta throw your life away to help me! Just… answer me, alright?”
Applejack knew the answer. For as long as Pinkie had subjugated herself back to farm-life, Applejack knew. Pinkie had told her, after all. Many times, in fact. But those times, Pinkie didn’t cry, Pinkie didn’t draw circles in the ground, and Pinkie didn’t blush.
Those times, Pinkie could actually say she owed Applejack. That Sweet Apple Acres would be thriving in a bountiful harvest if not for her, that she wouldn’t leave, or even think of leaving, until Applejack smiled again. Or at least until she learned how to fix a water spout.
“I don’t know…” Pinkie said, not unlike a cornered filly.
Every curse word ever conceived nearly burst from Applejack. Pinkie’s very sight drove her vision red, and her freckled cheeks puffed out.
Then Pinkie kissed the corner of her mouth. A short, split-second peck, like a needle to a hot balloon.
Everything stopped. And the breeze, much colder than it should have been, trapped both earth ponies where they stood. Locked by the other’s gaze. Unable to move, unwilling to move.
“I don’t know, Applejack,” Pinkie said, her cheeks a rosy red.
And just like that, whatever world Applejack was frozen in shattered, bringing her back to her degrading farm. Applejack finally noticed how close the stood. With a steamy snort that she hoped covered her own blush, Applejack whipped away from Pinkie.
“W-well, whatcha standing there for?” Applejack said, walking briskly toward the barn. “Get back to work.”
Author's Note
APPLEPIE!!!!!!
This little beaut is a revised and slightly rewritten entry to Thirty Minute Pony Stories. The prompt was: The Unexpected. This one I particularly enjoyed writing, but when I read over it again after several months, I realized I should've changed the direction for it being a short blog entry. Thus, I made my edits posted it on Fimfiction.
Well, that and I'm running dry on motivation. Workload... Work, work, work, I swear to God, life sucks.
All the same, I hope you fellers and fellerinas enjoyed it! Send me your thoughts, why don't you?
Craine...
