It Was the Worst of Times

Rarity could not sleep.

Truthfully, she hadn’t been sleeping well at all since Applejack had taken to sleeping out in the barn practically every other night.

It was an odd paradox; she was resentful of Applejack’s presence, but then when the other mare wasn’t there in the bed with her, she found sleeping without the warmth of her body and the safety of her arms was nigh impossible. The days that Applejack did choose to stay in their bed with her, it was as if they were in two separate beds anyway – none of their regular cuddles or talking or touching (and often much, much more than that). As a result, Rarity often ended up taking small cat-naps throughout the night, deep sleep constantly eluding her.

She rolled over, looking at Applejack’s side of the bed, empty, and suddenly was overwhelmed with such an ache for her she thought she would evaporate into cinders. She wanted her warmth, her skin, her kisses, and her strong but incredibly gentle hoofs twisting in her hair, sliding over her stomach and hips, reaching down to stroke her slit. Rarity wanted Applejack’s mouth on her throat and against her ear, whispering how much she loved her, wanted to feel her head between her legs, her warm tongue buried so deeply within her as her hoofs smoothed their way down every inch of her cutie marks. And afterwards, she wanted to lie in the circle of Applejack’s arms, her cheek pressed against Applejack’s chest, listening to her heartbeat as it lulled her to sleep, safe and protected and warm, so very warm.

She finally sat up, swinging her legs out of bed, and without thinking about where she was going or why, just needing to release the energy building inside of her, she slipped on her robe and strode from the room. She gazed down the hallway, just a few doors, and suddenly her destination came to her in a burst of clarity. She knew what she needed to do and who she needed to see.

She very quietly glided up the stairs and took the middle door to the left, slipping into Opal’s room. She closed the door softly behind her before crossing the hardwood, picking her way expertly around clothes and blocks and dolls to softly sit down on her daughter’s bed, careful not to wake her. For the first time in two months, she took the time to really and truly surround herself with her daughter’s presence.

The young filly was curled into a ball, her long mane disheveled, the coiled waves spilling out over her pillow and her mouth slightly slackened with sleep. Her long, thick eyelashes fluttered spasmodically with her dreams, and the silver light of the moon bathed her features – a perfect mixture of both hers and Applejack’s – with a nearly ethereal glow. Rarity knew without a doubt that as she moved into her teenaged years her daughter would grow and develop into an absolutely striking beauty. Her heart blooming with affection for the first time in what felt like forever, she reached out to tenderly stroke her daughter’s cheek, brushing Opal’s platinum blond mane away from her face.

It turned out that her daughter was not as deeply asleep as she’d originally thought, because the gesture was enough to wake her. Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she mumbled in confusion for a moment before her orange eyes, inherited from her great-grandmother and dark with sleep, focused on her mother.

“Mom?” Her voice was small, hoarse with sleep. Rarity smiled warmly.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Opal rubbed at her eyes, still looking bleary and unfocused. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be asleep too?”

“Yes, I should be. But I couldn’t sleep because I was missing you too much.”

Opal clutched her blanket tighter around her against the chill. “You… you missed me?” The naked hope in her voice was like an arrow to Rarity’s heart.

She stretched out beside the filly, curling up into a ball next to her so that they were lying face to face. Her throat tight, she nodded as she tucked a few strands of mane behind Opal’s ear.

“Yes, sweetie,” she whispered back. “I’ve missed you, so much. I know I haven’t been very good at paying attention to you lately or spending time with you, and I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings.”

“Mommy said you were sick,” Opal confessed. Rarity closed her eyes, swallowing back her tears.

“She’s right,” she whispered. “I haven’t been feeling very good lately at all, but that’s not an excuse for how I’ve been treating you. You should know that no matter how bad I might feel, I love you more than anything in the entire world. You and your brother and sister and your Mommy mean everything to me. I’m going to try really hard to do a better job, Opal. Starting with practicing magic together again. Immediately.”

Opal favored her with a small smile, reaching out to clutch her mother’s hoof with her own, smaller ones. Rarity dropped a kiss to her forehead, and when Opal smiled back at her, she was both surprised and overjoyed that it was genuine.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Opal whispered. “I forgive you. I just hope you feel better soon.”

Her unconditional forgiveness only served to increase Rarity’s guilt, but she stamped it back down to focus on her baby girl. Framing her head in her hoofs, she pressed a kiss to Opal’s forehead again.

“You know what would make me feel a lot better right now?” She asked.

Opal grinned, and in that moment her missing tooth was so adorable it was almost heartbreaking. “What?”

“I’d love to sleep in here with you tonight,” she confessed. “If, you know, you’re not too cool to be sharing your bedroom with your mother.”

Opal giggled. The sound was like a soothing balm for Rarity’s bruised heart, and her daughter enthusiastically shook her head.

“As long as you don’t tell Topaz, I think its okay.” She held grinned harder and silently made familiar motions. “Pinkie Promise?”

Rarity laughed so loud she was afraid for a moment that it would wake up Topaz, who was sleeping in the other room. “Cross my heart,” She insisted and then made the motions back.

Week Nine

Dear Applejack,

I love you.

I know I have done an absolutely terrible job of showing that lately, but I love you more than anything in this entire world, this entire universe, even. And I hate myself for not being able to just tell you that. But for some reason, I can’t, which is why I’m sitting here at 2 a.m. writing you this letter that I already know I won’t have the courage to give you. I already know why I won’t have the courage. Not because I’m afraid you won’t forgive me, but because I am afraid you will. And I feel like I don’t deserve to be forgiven. Not after everything I’ve put you through the last two and a half months.

Tonight at dinner while ‘Paz was telling us about her day at school, there was a moment where I realized that if an outside observer had been present, they would not have been able to tell anything was amiss at all. In front of the kids we’d seem so happy and normal, at least to a stranger. And I’ve been trying really hard to be better with them, I really have. We even speak when we’re all together, and every time you look across the table at me and move to say something and I see that sadness in your beautiful eyes I just want to cry and hold you and cover your face with kisses and tell you how I feel about you and make you believe it again, because I know you’ve begun to doubt it and it breaks my heart to know that. I miss you so much I can’t breathe.

You asked me a few weeks ago if I still loved you, and because I’m a coward and a hypocrite, I couldn’t answer, but I love you so much, sweetie, that everything inside me hurts. All the time. Even just being in your presence makes my whole body ache. Every breath you take is like a piercing stab through my heart, and seeing the pain you are in and knowing that I am the cause of that is like a crushing weight constantly sitting on my chest. You are the only thing I truly want in this entire world. I wish I were brave enough to tell you.

Love,

Rarity

Week Ten

My Dearest Applejack,

I saw you today while I was outside practicing magic with Opal after dinner, and the look on your face just seemed to pull all the breath out of my lungs. We were practicing and we were smiling and laughing and you know something? I was really, really happy. I love practicing with Opal and I’m amazed that I went such a long time without it. But I saw you there and you had this expression on your face that was like a kick to the chest – like you were so happy to see me so happy, but at the same time devastated because you’re afraid to let yourself hope again that maybe I can heal and get better. I want so badly to get better for you and be the wife, friend and lover you deserve.

I want you to come inside every night now. I want you to stop sleeping in the barn and sleep next to me, the way it should be. I know I’ve made you feel like you’re not welcome there but you are, Applejack, you are welcome there. I want to sleep with your arms around me. I want to feel your face tucked into the nape of my neck as we sleep, I want to wake up cuddled in your embrace, I want to kiss you until your lips are raw and swollen and have our all-night talks that last until the sun starts to rise and we groan because we know the kids will be up soon and we’re probably not getting any sleep at all for the day at least until that evening.

I miss making love to you so much it’s physically unbearable. Sometimes at night I lie there in bed and there’s this awful, horrible heat in my chest and between my legs and I feel like I’ll go crazy if I can’t have you with me, making love to me. I miss the way you’d always lay your head on my stomach afterwards, how you’d kiss each of my hipbones and around my belly button because you know I’m ticklish there. I miss the way you would always blush until the tips of your ears turned red when you’d find a red mark on my neck that you’d left by accident because you didn’t realize in the heat of the moment exactly how passionate you’d gotten. I miss talking afterwards, feeling safe to tell you what I was thinking or feeling, what I was scared of, what made me happy, what I was worried about.

I wish we could talk again. The way we used to. Beyond the logistics, beyond the surfacey comments such as passing the salt or asking you to hand me the broom. Always so polite, so polished, so formal. So not us. I want so badly for us to find our way back to that. I’m trying, sweetie. I really am. Please don’t give up on me. Not yet.

I love you.

Rarity

Week Eleven

My Love,

It helps to write these to you, even though you haven’t read them. I feel like I’m really talking to you again even if it’s not out loud. It comforts me. I don’t know why I can’t just give you these letters, but for some reason I’m still so scared to. I first said that I felt like I didn’t deserve to be forgiven. I still think that, but I think there is also a small part of me that fears your rejection after so many months of me constantly rejecting you. I know that’s ridiculous. You’ve always been able to forgive me anything, never been able to deny me anything I ask of you. It’s your most wonderful asset and probably your greatest weakness, too.

I heard you last night, while I was in the shower. I know I was crying again – I don’t even understand how I have any tears left at this point. I heard you open the door and come in, and you stood there, and I knew you wanted to comfort me but you were afraid to because of last time. But I didn’t want to lock you out this time. I wanted you. I wanted you to climb in there with me and hold me and then take me back to bed and hold me there, too. But you didn’t and I don’t blame you for not doing so; I know how deeply I hurt you last time and I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to keep opening yourself up to abuse you don’t deserve, but I want you to know I wouldn’t have pushed you away that time, Applejack. As more and more time goes by it’s like the anger and resentment is getting less and less and all I feel is a constant ache for you. It eclipses anything and everything else in my life, every other emotion I have. I need to tell you all this to your face. I know. Fluttershy and Mac and Granny Smith keep pushing me to make the first move, but I feel so lost. I don’t even know where to start or what to do. You’ve always been my safe space, Applejack. When I don’t know what to do or when I have a problem or I’m scared, my first impulse is to run to my best friend and ask her what I should do. But in this case, my problem and my best friend happen to be the same thing. What do I do?

I love you so much. I miss you so much. I need to fix this. I’m going to fix this, Applejack. I promise.

Love,

Rarity