Prologue: White Eagle
“Ain’t it amazin’, Granny?” Applejack exclaimed merrily.
Granny Smith’s wrinkled face transformed into a disgusted, crinkled apple, as she observed the tragic, lost cause before her wizened, orange eyes. Her drooping muzzle twisted into an uncertain grimace as her rustic knees cracked with the effort of keeping herself upright.
“Er....”
If anypony knew Applejack as well as Granny Smith, Celestia might as well be a white balloon with paper wings and a false, plastic horn. Granny Smith’s venerable, unpracticed mind may not be the most gifted, but she knew one thing, and one thing only; that her granddaughter was a determined dreamer; a pony who would move mountains until she fainted from utmost exhaustion, especially if it were for the benefit of another pony. Heck, Granny Smith would be darned if Applejack weren’t the most selfless, staunch creature alive since the Celestial Year of Peace.
Granny Smith has seen her granddaughter raise an entire barn in an afternoon, using her exquisite and useful talents of optimism and resolution. If there was anypony who could renovate a space or complete a project with superlative effort and concentration, it was Applejack.
And that, Granny Smith was certain, was a frigid, firm fact.
Sweet Apple Acres was Applejack’s pride and joy, the very thought of it illuminating her golden, modest soul; the very mention causing her heart to pulse with jubilation. With the beloved orchard under Applejack’s careful supervision, the Apple family would thrive; generations of Apples, centuries after Applejack’s time, would continue to grow like healthy apple trees, sprouting radiant blossoms. Granny Smith trusted her granddaughter. Granny Smith relied on her granddaughter.
Now? This was just ridiculous.
There were many abandoned, withered buildings and foundations on the many-acred property of Sweet Apple Acres, built years ago by previous Apple family members that had owned the farm. Ancient shacks, storage barns, and underground cellars that had served a purpose for countless moons, storing leftover appliances, preserves, and cider; until the main barn had been expanded and the Declaration of Charity was registered in 1738 Celest, declaring that all Earth Ponies with a homestead in Equestria with the possession of an orchard, farm, or factory had to donate half of its crop or product to the Equestria Equality Organization, which prevented hunger throughout Equestria by donating to each family; a portion of food, the first day of each moon, was given out by deliverers all across Equestria.
When Granny Smith and her family first took control of the farm, they began to renovate or tear down most of the unwanted buildings on the property, to recreate their purposes as spare storage rooms, current cellars, or guest buildings, for company. Granny Smith and her family had created names for all the foundations to avoid confusion; for example, a particularly withered outhouse on the edge of the East Orchard had been named Edge...because of the obvious fact that it was the building that was farthest away from Main Camp.
Granny Smith’s beloved daughter, Apple Blossom, had given birth to Applejack in Sweet Apple; the prized barn of Sweet Apple Acres, the place that the current Apple family called home.
Nearly all undesired buildings on the property had been polished or destroyed by the time Applejack earned her cutiemark and Apple Bloom was born. The Apple family was clear, and they could finally focus their full attention on their tender crop.
That is, if it weren’t for White Eagle.
White Eagle was discovered precisely seven moons after Granny Smith and her family settled; Granny, being the curious, explorative filly she was, set out to complete her necessary chores early, so she could reconnoiter the space and perhaps discover new properties of the unexplored venue. She wandered for many hours, navigating her way through dense thickets and prickling meadows, until she stumbled upon a large, barn-like structure in the afternoon, the fiery sun beating down painfully on her neck, her coat sweating unstoppably. The oak-paneled structure was rotting, with varieties of rodents and bugs taking refuge in it’s walls. On the peak of the structure, which was a strongly tilted roof, there was an extremely enormous nest, crafted with thick twigs, leaves, and rotted straw. Granny marveled at the sight; it was a revolting, weak barn, that was true, but Granny’s naive soul saw nothing but raw potential.
Every morning after that miraculous afternoon, Granny returned to the rusted barn, studying every insignificant detail and creating ideas for architecture that she would present to her parents. She planned to turn the old barn into a magnificent relaxation area for orchard workers; a place where they could simply wind down after a lengthy day of Herculean work with a chilled glass of soothing cider.
She kept the new barn a secret from her family, giving the excuse that she took extended trips to the sizable swimming hole that was an hour’s commute away, instead of going to an unknown barn to sketch possible renovations.
One fateful afternoon, the forty-seventh afternoon that Granny had visited the barn, to be precise, Granny was sitting peacefully on the itchy tall grass around the sand that hosted the barn, sketching makeovers for the roof, and a possible idea of a dumbwaiter of another fashion, her tranquility was alarmingly interrupted by a majestic, illustrious screech, coming from the radiant throat of nature itself. Granny had glanced into the wild, blue sky in confusion, to catch sight of an elegant, soaring bird, cutting through the calm clouds with wings as sharp as a silver knife. Granny had gasped with wonder as the magnificent bird’s shadow passed over her widened, electrified eyes, and landed gracefully on the rim of the nest.
Granny Smith didn’t move a muscle for the horrifying fear that the bird would become frightened and fly away. She watched intently as the eagle-similar bird preened it’s gorgeous, white feathers and blinked it’s stunning, violet eyes with sophistication and elegance.
When she returned home, she named the withered building White Eagle.
The reservation plans were complete, and she had estimated the cost for the entire renovation. She was utterly prepared to introduce her tireless work that had included measurements, calculations, and three hour trips from Main Camp to White Eagle and back again. Carefully planning her presentation, she approached her parents after dinner one evening and explained that she had, in reality, not been hiking to the swimming hole every afternoon, but exploring and planning the renovation of White Eagle.
Her parents thought it was an extraordinary idea, minus the scoldings Granny Smith received about dangerously threatening her safety and keeping significant secrets from family members. They began to clear the obstacles that lay, lurking, in between Main Camp and White Eagle; mangled, dying trees, dense brush, and exceedingly large piles of rock.
Granny Smith and her parents, after five moons of diligent work, were ready to commit to the renovation of White Eagle. They even arranged for a professional bird-whisperer to persuade the gallant eagle to move it’s immense nest to a preserved, suitable location, along with it’s plump, speckled eggs.
Just before the grand beginning of the renovation, Granny Smith fell in love, muzzle over hooves. Her heartstring had found it’s match, destined by the wishful stars. She began pushing the start of the renovation farther away, so she could spend more, precious time with her lover.
Before long, the two ponies were happily united in marriage, (to the delight of Granny Smith’s parents) and they gave birth to shy, delightful baby filly; Apple Blossom. White Eagle slipped, unnoticed, away from the family’s white wisps of thought, until the Apple family ceased to remember the worn barn.
Countless moons went by, as Granny Smith and her husband watched their little filly bloom into a delicate flower, with an admirable personality. They tended the land as Granny Smith witnessed her parent’s leave from the earth, their souls entwining with the winds of time and change as she buried them into the fresh, healthy soil. Nopony remembered the forsaken tragedy that was White Eagle.
Granny couldn’t say she was melancholy that the place was forgotten. Granny may not have fulfilled her heart’s desire, but she had gained another definition of a heart’s desire in the process. She had found the blooming, crimson rose of love.
White Eagle was just a slim, pleasing memory; nothing but a tiny stream of thought in the back of Granny’s mind.
Until now, that is.
All thanks to Granny’s determined granddaughter, Applejack.
Granny Smith stood now, utterly stunned, as she observed her granddaughter gesturing excitedly to the interior of the rotted barn with two hooves, standing proudly on her back legs. The texture of the air was damp and sickly; a gust of wind passed over Granny’s spine, causing her to shiver unpleasantly. The fragile, wooden floor was irksomely covered in a dense layer of dust.
“Ah said, ain’t it amazin’?” Applejack repeated herself loudly, dropping her two front hooves to lightly touch the floor. The wooden panels creaked under her slim, yet sturdy weight, and they sounded as if Applejack twitched, they would give in. Applejack turned her freckled face to Granny Smith, her breathtaking jade eyes boring into Granny’s old soul.
Granny hesitated. The disgust faded quickly from her crinkled face as she took a moment to scan White Eagle with her observant eyes.
The wood that created the walls was sagging, as if it were being weighed down with a heavy load of fresh produce. Every wooden plank inside the musty building had corners that were gnawed off, moth-eaten, or rotted. The clever timber structure that supported the roof and had once made Granny Smith exhale loudly with delight was now completely mangled by time; some rectangular pieces of expertly cut wood had fallen onto the loft, some hanging limply feet below the plywood by stringy, evergreen vines. Half of the roof had fallen in, creating an utterly unattractive hole that caused sunlight to filter in; tremendous amounts of dust were swirling around one another in the gargantuan beam, drifting blissfully, unaware of the world.
The loft, directly across from the entrance, that used to be Granny Smith’s favorite part of the crumbling barn was now broken, producing yet another ugly mess on the wooden floor ten feet below it of scattered planking, ripped and torn. Under the weight of the receded lumber, the feeble flooring had collapsed to reveal the cream-colored sand that surrounded the base of the dilapidated barn.
Workbenches, tables, and chairs that had been barely presentable when Granny Smith was Applejack’s age were now knocked over, splintered, or decayed. Granny Smith wrinkled her muzzle in objection to the vexatious sight in front of her drained eyes.
To add to the dreadful sight, cobwebs, nightmarish bugs, dust, and unidentifiable fungi (which was saying something, mind you, because Granny Smith had obtained enough knowledge of every element in Ponyville that could rival Celestia’s) covered the entire space. An unwelcome sensation crept menacingly through the rear of her throat as she caught a whiff of a scent that was a mixture of the dry smell of dust and the brain-numbing smell of rot.
The slim grimace returned.
“Er...it sure is somethin’,” Granny Smith assured Applejack, not wanting to displease her enthusiastic granddaughter. Something indeed, Granny Smith thought sorrowfully after she said it, it’s the biggest disaster I’ve darn seen since the Griffin Plague of 1998 Celest!
Applejack grinned satisfyingly, lifting her hoof to her tattered cowboy hat out of habit. Obviously oblivious to Granny’s distaste, she pushed it forward an inch so it covered a minuscule fraction of her exhilarated, jade eyes.
“Ah’m so glad ya think so,” Applejack explained breathlessly, trotting over to Granny Smith as the floorboards creaked dangerously under her constantly shifting weight, “because Ah’ve got an idea that could boost business and change Sweet Apple Acres fur the better!”
Granny Smith gulped, raising a concerned eyebrow at Applejack’s highly expressed enthusiasm. Granny could sense, deep in her stiff, experienced body, what was approaching. It lurked in the shadows of doubt...a monster, stalking it’s prey. The very idea made the back of her brain tingle with dissatisfaction.
Granny Smith tilted her head to the side, pretending without flaw to be intrigued. “What would that be, youngun?” she inquired, falsely clueless. She raised her right hoof and bent it slightly, as a sign of interest.
Applejack took a long breath, fluttering her eyes shut before she answered.
“Well, yah see, Granny,” Applejack began, pacing across the uneasy flooring, “ever since the insurance stallion payed us a visit, tellin’ us that we needed ta get 25,000 bits ta the bank to continue our ownership fur Sweet Apple Acres, Ah’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout new ways ta make profit.”
Granny Smith’s insides writhed like an infuriated snake when she recalled the charismatic stallion, with a tattered, dark cloak, who had sauntered up the dirt path to Sweet Apple Acres two weeks ago, his disapproving eyes silently criticizing everything in the humble orchard. She furrowed her eyebrows darkly as she remember him barging in on their privacy, demanding a bottle of beer and inviting himself to sit. He had called Granny Smith and Applejack into the room, as if it were his home, not theirs, and explained why he was there.
Times had grown tense for the Apple family’s business. Profit had dropped continuously for the last six moons; ponies didn’t crave country-grown, fresh produce anymore; they craved high-society meals, with smoked basil and other unnecessary accents, with sauteed potatoes and a side of marinated hay fries. Rarely anypony, not even Ponyvillians, would come to Sweet Apple Acres for a delicious apple pie or any other apple product. The Apple family had grown used to the fact that they were extremely lucky to receive one customer a week, let alone a day. Applejack and the rest of her family (except for Apple Bloom, of course; nopony wanted to trouble the little filly with the burden) had begun wondering if they would be able to stay in control of their payments for the farm for much longer.
The annoying, arrogant stallion said that the moonly pay for the farm was long since overdue. The Apple family had postponed several payments, and in order for the bank not to tear down their barn and orchard for a new Barnyard Bargains premises, they would have to give the bank 22,678 bits by the end of the year (which was only nine moons away) to cover the missed payments and the previous loans they had taken out. The stallion had advised, with a cold sneer, that they earn 25,000 bits, so they will have enough money to reboot their falling business.
The stallion had then drained his beer, licked his lips maliciously, wished a false, “Good luck,” and strutted out the door, not even thanking the Apple family for their generous hospitality.
“Ya have?” Granny questioned Applejack in the present, her false manner disintegrating by the intense, blue flame of wonder, kindling in the brick fireplace of her thoughts.
Applejack paused her constant river of words to utter a simple “Mm-hm” and insert a quick, certain nod of her head. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, and Granny Smith knew immediately that her granddaughter was thinking effortfully; that she was a barreling train, never wavering off of the intended tracks.
“Ya see, Granny, today Ah went to transfer the apple-collectin’ buckets from the North Orchard ta the South Orchard, and Ah came upon this here barn. Ah was confused, ‘cuz I sure thought that every last buildin’ that was unneeded was destroyed or torn down by yur family, Granny,” Applejack babbled effortlessly. Granny Smith began to lose sight of where this conversation was heading.
“As ya’ll know, tommora mornin’ Ah’m headin’ ta Neigh Orleans.”
Immediately after the proud, drawling stallion had left the property, Applejack had called an Emergency Family Meeting, consisting of the eldest members of the family: Granny Smith, Big Macintosh, and herself. The three ponies had gathered in the kitchen, Granny sitting in her withered rocking chair, Applejack pacing impatiently back and forth at the head, and Big Macintosh standing firmly by Granny Smith’s side.
“Ya’ll know why Ah’ve called ya’ll here today,” Applejack had started, her radiant, jade eyes miserably disrupted by the excessive weight of despair.
Big Mac uttered a furious, “Eeyup,” and Granny Smith scowled at the floor and slapped her arthritic knee, hollering, “Darn tootin’!”
“Our worst fears have darn been confirmed,” Applejack mumbled, her voice wavering with heated, emotional tears that were threatening to spill down her freckled cheeks. “We migh’ lose the farm if we don’ get the money ta the bank in time.”
Silence had seeped through the kitchen, wrapping it’s tense fingers around the necks of the three ponies, with the horrid intention to choke them all with the power of their worries. The only sound was Applejack’s hoofsteps, quietly pounding the floorboards as she continued her distressed pacing.
“Darn those high-society ponies!” Granny Smith exploded after a moment, scorching, crimson fury weaved through her words. “Back in my day, everypony would come from miles ‘round just ta get a taste of my family’s food! It’s the quality and heart ya put inta the dishes ya make that counts, not the appearance!” She slammed a choleric hoof on the left arm of her rocking chair, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed.
“Ah know, Granny. It’s ridiculous,” Applejack confirmed lightly, “but in order ta stay in charge of the place that holds so many wonderful memories, we haveta take charge.” Applejack abruptly halted her pacing and stomped her hoof on the floor resolutely, causing the table to vibrate and uncomfortable tingling to crawl up each individual knot of the three ponies’ spines.
“What are ya’ll suggestin’, sis?” Big Macintosh rumbled, his low-toned voice relaxing and serene, echoing through the kitchen. “What more can we do?” He said the last sentence not as a desperate whine, but as a helpful inquiry.
Applejack rotated her head towards her strong-hearted brother and blinked gradually, her eyes steadily narrowing as she felt the kindled fire of certainty raging in her pulsing heart. Her decision and plan were darting around in her mind, checking that her evidence and arguments were all in line. She licked her lips steadfastly, coming to a verdict, and slammed her hoof pointedly on the wooden flooring once more.
“Ah’ve decided that the only solution is fur me to....” Applejack’s eyebrows upturned slightly as she hesitated, carefully scanning her family’s anxious faces. Every detail was taut, anxious, and agitated; waiting for her approval, her relaxation, her example. Deciding that she had no other choice, she reluctantly continued, willing her voice not to grow weak with the emotional blow that her words would cause. “...is fur me ta leave the farm.”
Silence. Sticky, uncomfortable silence.
Before any of her family members could retaliate, she interjected with a hoof in the air, “Don’ ya’ll worry none! It’ll only be a short time,” Applejack assured her wavering family members, as elusive as a flickering flame of a wax candle. Her voice broke with nervousness and anxiety; just as she willed it wouldn’t.
“Ah’ve been thinkin’,” Applejack continued, taking advantage of her family’s paralyzed state, “that if Ah left Ponyville fur a while and took a coupla jobs with high-pay, Ah could save up enough money ta come back to Ponyville in nine moons with 25,000 bits...the amount we need.”
Granny Smith whinnied, unbelieving, her temper no longer contained. Tepid steam seemed to pour relentlessly from the elder pony’s ears, causing Applejack and her brother’s throats to clench with tensity.
“There ain’t no way we’re lettin’ ya leave the farm,” Granny contradicted, waving her hooves unnecessarily. “This may be more of a problem then a munchin’ caterpillar swarm in the middle of Applebuck Season, but that sure as hay don’ mean that we can’t solve it as a family. There’s no reason why ya’ll should,” Granny Smith nodded firmly, her authority crashing over Applejack in an electric wave, jolting her bones and filling her dry throat with protests.
“Eeyup,” Big Mac snorted, his powerful stance resumed as his enormous, brawny heart wished that Applejack would stay his little, curious sister forevermore. He desired more than anything that he could take the fat, complaining body of the world off of his sister’s sagging, committed shoulders. He longed for his sister to be an unexperienced filly again, so he could comfort her...so he could change her mind. “Granny’s right.”
Countless objections blurred the air, both ponies speaking at the same moment, their words rattling her brain unpleasantly as she gritted her teeth. They had reasons to oppose, but they failed to grasp the true brilliance of the idea.
Applejack fluttered her eyes shut, placing a mental glass shield against the walls of her brain, protecting her single-minded train of thought from their never-ending protests. She focused on letting her family’s comments become nothing more but an insignificant buzz of a whisper in her mind.
“Ya’ll, Ah know this is difficult ta understand,” Applejack explained patiently, her voice relaxed and blissful, “but Ah can explain why if ya’ll will let me.” The forbearing mare straightened her back as she opened her eyes delicately.
Granny’s and Big Mac’s words floated in midair like hovering daggers as they halted their stream of disapproval. Biting their lips, they looked at each other uncertainly, and they let their muscles recede. They nodded warily in unison, eager to see why their beloved apple seed needed to make such a drastic change.
Applejack resumed her pacing; although this time, it was more measured and thoughtful.
“Ponyville is a great place ta live,” Applejack began, her words steady and sure, “but it’s such a small town, that the work here doesn’t pay much, not unless ya’ll er in the farm business.”
Granny Smith and Big Mac nodded in agreement, evermore assuring Applejack’s racing heart that she had made the most reasonable choice. She paused for a moment, reinserting her mind onto her mental, unwavering, dirt path.
“A while back, when our poverty problem was growin’ as successfully as a healthy apple tree, Ah began ta think about ways ta boost the customer herd. O’ course, it wasn’t really a problem back then, but still, Ah was determined to be prepared if worst came ta worst.
“Ah started researchin’ high-payin’ waitress jobs in other cities, like Manehatten and Saddle Arabia, but most of them were downright impossible ta do, ‘cuz the jobs were bein’ taken as Ah read. So, after readin’ the newspaper constantly fur five moons, keepin’ updated, Ah finally found a few cafe’s that were very short-staffed and needed help fur high-pay.
"The two cafe’s that Ah found were in Neigh Orleans, so Ah sent a coupla quick telegram ta them, with my resume and a note tellin’ them ta hold a spot fur me if they chose me, ‘cuz like Ah said, Ah wasn’t sure. So, we kept in touch.”
Applejack’s tail bounced gently as she paced, touching the floor with the softness of a butterfly wing. It was the only sound, other than Granny’s creaking rocking chair, that was heard in the normally lively kitchen, against the utter awe and suspicion that hung soundlessly in the air.
“Finally, when Ah saw the bank stallion approachin‘ on the path, as silent as a garden-snake, Ah sent two telegrams ta Neigh Orleans sayin’ that Ah’d take the job, and Ah’d be there next Monday.
“Granny? Big Mac?” Applejack froze in her tracks, her hoof suspended in midair as she rotated slowly to face their knowing, desperate faces, their wise, loving eyes filled with understanding tears. She placed her hoof down softly on the floor, the prickle of her family’s emotion stabbing her coat. The two ponies acknowledged her question with the sharp upturn of their flattened ears, and they both extended their necks to show respect and clarify that they were listening to their little apple seed.
“Ah have ta go. It’s the only way,” she said.
Applejack’s ears flattened as she glanced at the ground, pawing the peeling floorboards with her hoof. Her magnificent jade eyes that danced when she was excited were now gleaming with diamond tears, icy and freezing to the touch. Her tattered cowboy hat slid over her eyes as she sniffed, snot clouding her muzzle.
Her clenched words wrapped around the eyes of everypony like a blindfold, their tears blurring shocking reality and the task that Applejack was to take on. Silence seeped into the room again, weaving around rusted pots and pans, circling around the table’s four, wooden legs, slithering into everypony’s mind like a malicious python, waiting to strike.
The silence broke like glass when Granny Smith finally spoke.
“Youngun, we love ya ta pieces, and we’d hate more than anything ta see ya go, but we know, in our jealous, desperate hearts, that ya gotta. Ya have ta go. Its the only way ta save the farm.”
Big Mac’s eyelids closed as he leaned into Granny Smith, abruptly stopping her rocking chair’s annoying squeak. He craned his neck around hers as a sign of comfort, as a sign of trust; as a sign of true family. Granny Smith sighed heavily as she embraced her grandson’s welcoming hug.
Applejack looked up from under the brim of her cowboy hat to see her family embracing one another, like the caring ponies they were. A welcoming smile poured from her heart, filling her muscles and brain with pulsing adrenaline, causing her back to straighten and her hooves to act without her permission. She practically galloped towards the two, throwing her hooves around them without hesitation, muzzling them with all of the love in her pure, golden heart.
The embrace was a blur of hugs, laughing, and crying; blending the three ponies together on that terrible day. They sang songs of leaving, of coming home, then they laughed and cried and hugged once more. They drank bottled apple cider as they told jokes and stories, their hearts and minds becoming one.
Finally, well past midnight, when the three ponies were gathered around the weathered table, Granny’s mind snapped back into reality and she turned to her overachieving granddaughter, her mind whirling with new disapproval.
“But Applejack, are ya’ll sure that Neigh Orleans is the best place fur it? Ah mean, that ol’ city is crawlin’ with charlatans, just waitin’ ta reel ya inta a horrible bargain with a heapin’ lot o’ voodoo!” Granny Smith’s eyes shook and her hooves shivered as she made a gaunt gesture.
Applejack only chuckled and took another gulp of her cider as she replied, “Granny, Ah’m pretty darn sure that if Ah ever met one o’ those voodoo stallion’s that ya’ll are talkin’ ‘bout, Ah’d run away as fast as Ah could in the other direction.”
The three ponies looked at each other.
They laughed all the harder.
“Uh-uh,” Granny Smith halfheartedly conceded the Emergency Family Meeting roughly a week ago, after the traumatic visit of that awful stallion, with a pensive, yet dubious expression carved expertly on her wrinkled muzzle.
Applejack discontinued her pacing to push a dangling vine, hanging flaccidly from the treacherous timber that supported the weak structure of the ceiling. She made a retching sound from the front of her stomach, similar to a growl of a ravenous wolf, as a thorn nicked the tip of her ear as she trotted around it. Granny Smith winced, covering her eyes with her nearly deaf ears, as if to shield herself from her granddaughter’s minor pain.
“Well,” Applejack resumed her trek, seemingly unfazed by the hazardous vine, “when Ah was just a little filly, my dad...” Applejack paused, readjusting her hoofing as she delightedly gestured to the reeking building (and all it’s glory, NOT), her voice filled with jeweled emotion. Her jade eyes glinted in the sunlight filtering from the sunken ceiling as she turned slightly, her back to Granny, and breathed heavily, replicating her grandmother’s reaction to the disaster when she was a filly.
“...my dad and Ah dreamed that we started a restaurant on Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack’s voice was full of hopeful, glittering mist that fogged Granny’s mind with the undeniable passion that her granddaughter expressed, so openly.
Granny vividly remembered her son-in-law. He was a sanguine, promising stallion; no doubt the origin of his daughter’s unbreakable optimism and trust. He was bursting with creativity, ideas, and experiments, and his contribute to the farm was unforgettable...endless shifts of washing dishes and cooking at restaurants more than three hours away from home, just so he could keep his family on their hooves.
“We dreamed that ponies came from all over Equestria, just ta get a taste of our food.” Applejack’s voice had dropped to a contemplative whisper, her breathless expression turned away from Granny as she stared into the glorious sunlight. “We dreamed that we made Appleseed Soup, Green Apple Salad, Crispy Apple-Flavored Fries...and so many other delicacies that Ah can’t remember them all.”
The direction of this conversation was growing lucid and obvious to Granny Smith, like the way storm clouds part like a rumbling, black sea to reveal a stunning azure sky. Applejack’s hoof descended leisurely, lingering in the air for a few moments, then dropped it gently.
The sparkling mist that surrounded Applejack faded as she revolved around to face Granny. Unspoken memories, painful memories that pinched the back of their minds like vermilion crabs, sharp and unpleasant. Memories of the dreadful letter, explaining her darling son-in-law’s death, shortly after he joined the Defensive Pony Military.
“Every nigh’, before Ah went ta bed, my dad would come inta my room and we’d talk fur an hour straight about the restaurant that we would start. We’d call it...The Apple Palace. It would be the biggest attraction in Equestria since Canterlot! We dreamed together fur many moons, my dad an’ Ah...until...well, ya’ll know what happened.
“So when Ah found this place,” Applejack looked to the caving ceiling with heavy thoughts swirling in her mind like a tornado, “Ah thought, ‘This is it. Ah’m gonna make sure that all my daddy’s hard work means somethin’.
“‘Ah’m gonna start a restaurant,’ Ah thought. ‘Ah’m gonna start a restaurant and make my daddy proud.’” Her voice cracked from the desperate, mourning, boiling tears she felt behind the curtain of her eyelashes as she glanced to the heavens, hoping with all her heart that her father was listening with his knowing, intelligent eyes, identical to her own.
Granny Smith recalled the elation she had felt welling in her heart and veins as she traveled to White Eagle every single afternoon for forty-seven days, and realized that Applejack’s vision was spectacular. Her commitment was impossible to brush away. Once the Apple Family had enough money to rebuild their base and continue the business, a restaurant would be an excellent addition to the farm’s ever-growing orchard. The dark, unfamiliar idea seemed to suddenly be overtaken by a positive sunbeam, highlighting the pros and quickly solving the cons.
Granny Smith’s enthusiasm built gradually, like a brick building; brick by brick by brick. An ardent grin began to turn the corners of her wilting muzzle turn up as her attentive eyes gleamed, despite the shadow undoubtedly covering the space where she stood. She could see no flaws!
But then, her positivity was suddenly deflated, as if somepony had jabbed a sharp needle into a bright yellow balloon.
“But youngun, if ya’ll start this business, ya’ll won’t have any time ta enjoy life. Ya won’t have time fur dancin’, relaxin’, or startin’ a family of yur own!” Granny’s perked ears fell as she observed her ebullient granddaughter, shining radiantly in the raw astute of her idea, her eyes glossy with the delightful ghosts of dreams and bittersweet tears.
Applejack’s pupils grew alarmingly fast as she was snapped back to reality by her grandmother’s meaningful, yet ridiculous (in her opinion) words. The fog that obscured her jade eyes cleared, revealing a skeptical expression.
“Granny,” Applejack explained, her tone transformed from distant to sharp as she trotted to stand in front of her grandmother, “Ah don’t have time fur dancin’. That’s just gonna haveta wait a while.” Applejack paused, her face inches from Granny’s own. Her expression radiated her fair spirit, her beautiful soul, as she scanned her grandmother’s cherished face from under the brim of her musty, memory-filled cowboy hat.
“C’mon, Granny. We’re almost there.”
As the dust particles swirled and collided in the beam that escaped through the fallen ceiling of White Eagle, her granddaughter’s words echoed sincerely in Granny’s contemplative, wizened mind, as she stared into two considerate, jade jewels.
Almost there, she repeated in her mind.
Almost there.
Chapter One: Diamond At Sunrise
Chapter One: Diamond At Sunrise
The rooster’s graceful, soothing call shook Applejack’s mind pleasantly as she stood, absorbed in her own thoughts, on the dirt path leading out of her adored Sweet Apple Acres. An aged, shabby saddlebag was perched on her back, embellished with two shining, crimson apples, as satisfying as a sunrise on a spring morning.
Crisp, fresh air wafted gently over her hay-colored mane, slightly ruffling her ragged braids, tied clumsily with the red, worn ribbon she always used. She closed her eyes, letting the cool, refreshing air seep into her coat and intwine with her anxious, excited soul.
Her blooming apple trees surrounded her, whispering her name into the wind as their evergreen leaves waved in the light breeze of the morning. Ah’m gonna miss you, she thought, pleading to the sky that her thoughts would be carried into the sweet dreams of her sleeping family. Tears crept uninvitedly to her closed eyelids. Ah’m gonna miss you.
The achingly saccharine, aesthetically pleasing smell of ripe apples swirled around her tilted muzzle, causing her saliva glands to secrete liquid. Her stomach clenched at the melancholy thought of not smelling the sweet scent again for nine moons.
Applejack opened her eyes thoughtfully and glanced in the direction of the sunrise, hanging above Ponyville like a ravishing star in the wide void of the night sky. Tangerine orange, lilac purple, and light blue shafts of light gleamed like crystals as they protruded from their brilliant creator, the sun. Colors weaved, twisted, and collided with one another; a quilt, stitched together by Mother Nature’s extravagant fingers.
Applejack’s eyes traveled down the hill she stood upon, carefully following the earth-made path that stretched across many hills, rocky slopes, and thick clumps of trees. Ponyville, a small formation in the distance hunched, blissfully asleep. In the outline of the white horizon, the quiet town was tying thick, glittering ribbons of memories across Applejack’s heart. If she was going to make it to the train station in time, she would have to escape the clutches of her mourning and leave fairly soon.
She rotated her head away from the direction of Ponyville and faced her precious farm, bathed in the slim light of the lovely sunrise, yet lightly shaded with surviving shadow. Her delicate, blooming little sister, her strong-hearted, unfathomable brother, and her experienced grandmother lay in their beds, breathing deeply, as she exhaled in the wind, her affection swirling through the sweet, apple-scented air. An eloquent grin spread across Applejack’s face as she absorbed and engraved the image of her home into her mind. She mentally promised herself that she would never forget.
Never.
Her eyes twinkling with knowledge, Applejack reared into the air, a strong gust of wind blowing her mane to the side of her face. She whinnied, the sound causing the pigs and the chickens to pause their feasting and stare towards the entrance of the barn and the chicken coop, wondering where the sound came from.
Then Applejack galloped down the road, her rumbling hoofsteps becoming fainter and fainter until they were only faint heartbeats in the horizon’s wide mouth.
“Alllll aboard!”
Applejack’s lungs heaved as the conductor propped open the door of the slick, ebony steam engine, with cursive, shimmering silver letters engraved near the edge, bearing, The Sunrise Express. Her heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird as sweat dripped onto her eyelashes, creating dusty trails in their wake. The beads of sweat littered the space under the brow of her cowboy hat, clear evidence that she had galloped the entire way from Sweet Apple Acres to the Ponyville Train Station.
Applejack wiped a sore hoof across her forehead, ridding her mane of a small fraction of the thick moisture. Her ears darted and twisted as humid, choking steam poured effortlessly from the smokestack atop the long, metal barrel, that stretched backward, farther than her jade eyes could see. Her ears rotated constantly, straining and flicking as their sensitivity was breeched by countless sounds, generating from the train and the muffled conversations between other ponies.
The sunrise had risen a fraction higher since she had seen her home, its glory gallantly beaming across the platform of the train station, dowsing half the ponies in a golden aura and the other half in solemn shadow. Countless luggage trolleys, abandoned suitcases, and fallen items littered the weak wood of the Ponyville Train Station; Applejack’s eyes weaved their way through impatient ponies, tapping their hooves anxiously as they waited for the train to begin taking passengers. Her gaze watched a family of six near the left edge of the platform; a stallion, a mare, and four foals, as they fussed and spoke to each other in short, sharpened tones, the younger children complaining about the wait and the older children moaning about forgotten items.
Applejack stood, her posture slumped and forgotten, a few feet diagonal from the entrance of The Sunrise Express. The conductor was fiddling frustratedly with his rusted, golden pocket watch and straightening his formal, navy-blue tweed jacket as he wrinkled his eyebrows; Applejack sensed that he wasn’t exactly ready for her, yet. Or anypony else on the platform, she added to her own thought, blinking rapidly. But it was no trouble. Applejack was perfectly content waiting until he was comfortable. Saving the farm could wait just a few more minutes.
Applejack’s eyebrows upturned as she tilted her Stetson forward, readjusting her position so she could keep the conductor in one jade eye and the crowd that was ever-growing in the other. Hot, prickling anticipation stung the back of her neck like needles that were shoved in boiling lava as she modestly observed the exceeding amount of ponies around her; talking, clipping straps on suitcases, and unwinding with steaming cups of hot chocolate or specially brewed coffee with tense expressions on their faces.
Come to think of it, Applejack’s eyes slid quickly around the train station, to the crowded ticket booth, the rusted luggage extract, and the mobbed main information building in a perfect row behind her. It’s pretty darn weird that so many ponies showed up for the early morning train. Usually, the station was practically deserted until rush hour, which was 7:45 a.m in the summer time; rarely anypony ever boarded the early morning trains...the most passengers The Sunrise Express usually saw every day, at maximum, was five. Applejack leaned backwards as a disheveled stallion collided briefly with her front with his side, rumbling a gruff, “Cuse me,” and continued his trek. Without even glancing in her direction, he trotted down the steps that flanked the side of the wooden platform, his hoofsteps heavy thuds against the wood. “No problem!” Applejack called after him, irritated, yet sympathetic of his rush. She sure knew what it felt like to be pressed by the intimidating ticks of time; shaky, distant, and breathless.
Ah wonder why they’re all in such a hurry, she inquired in her mind, reaching a hoof to her forehead yet again to modify the position of her sliding Stetson. She shrugged lightly, assuring her mental self, and her migrating heart, that it wouldn’t interfere with her plans (in fact, it might boost the costumer rate), and she leaned absentmindedly on the metal of an empty luggage trolley positioned conveniently behind her, the cool material cutting into her shoulder blades uncomfortably. She perked her ears and tilted them towards the wind, the distant mumbles of conversation becoming more distinguished in her drowsy, yet excited, mind. She scanned the barren landscape of rolling hills and dead, gnarled trees scattered across the itchy, thin grass, willing herself not to barge in on other ponies’ privacy by eavesdropping. Wisps of sentences, empty and meaningless to her, floated and flowed around her ears, intruding on her solitude.
A rumbling voice, similar to her big brother’s, carried across the slight breeze and wove itself around her ears without her permission. It reminded her, like a sharp wasp sting on her coat, of Sweet Apple Acres. She grimaced, shooing away the mental wasp with a slight twist of her hoof. She ignored the pang in her stomach and squinted, locking herself in a cobblestone dungeon and swallowing the key in her mind. She wouldn’t disrespect her grandmother’s teaching. She wouldn’t listen. She just wouldn’t!
“-but miss, I really don’t think that we can get all this luggage on the train,” the voice was saying, sounding perturbed and significantly frazzled, coming from the opposite side of the platform from where she rested, judging by the speed and velocity of the polluted wind blowing across Applejack’s muzzle. She fairly decreed it a stallion’s voice; the only mare that could have a voice as resonant as this one was Fluttershy...when she stepped in Poison Joke, that is.
“Oh, but it’s all necessary! I need these things so my uncle will be determined to get me that meeting with top-of-the-top fashion designers! Oh, woe is me!” The voice that replied was shrill and spiced with displeasure and upheaval; an emotional apple-cinnamon salad. A mare if Ah’ve ever heard one, Applejack thought, chuckling, entertained by the dramatic reaction.
“Er...we can mail the extra bags to you from here, and they’ll reach you in a week. Which ones can you bear to lose for a little while?” the stallion questioned accommodatingly. Applejack vividly imagined a towering stallion, leaning forward slightly, open to suggestion. The poor chap is just trying to be helpful, she thought, admiring his supportive nature. A small foal passed her, his head tilted at a strange angle, and Applejack quickly smiled, pretending to check a watch that wasn’t there. The foal, concern and confusion set deep in his aquamarine eyes, turned away.
“Oh, no, no, no! This can’t be! I’ve spent so much time packing and planning, checking and rechecking! I can’t afford to lose ANY of these bags!” The mare-who-has-too-much-luggage contradicted. Applejack’s squinted as she looked at the rotting wood planks that the platform was made of. She felt her eye twitch. She knew that voice. An annoying mental mosquito droned near the back of her mind as she hurriedly tried to place it.
The mare had begun to wail, a vexatious gurgling noise that reminded Applejack of a crying foal, freshly born, except much more distasteful. This, too, along with the mare’s clear voice, was familiar. Applejack puckered her lips as she struggled to ignore the sound and focus on the helpful stallion’s reply.
“I’m sorry, miss, but no can do,” the stallion stomped his hoof on the ground assertively in Applejack’s imagination. Apparently, he wasn’t going to stand for any more of the mare’s antics. “I apologize for any inconvenience, but this is simply too much luggage, along with the other passenger’s, for the train to handle. There is another option, however. We can send your luggage on the next train, so you’ll get it in a matter of hours. Does that satisfy, miss, er...Rarity?”
It hit Applejack squarely in the face, as shocking and as unexpected as a slap across the jaw. She twisted around like an irked snake, her hair flying askew in her jade eyes, and her theory was immediately confirmed when she saw the scene before her.
On the opposite side of the platform, parallel to the train, a remarkable, snow-colored unicorn with an expertly curled violet mane was levitating a lace-lined, lilac colored handkerchief to her muzzle, muffling the horrible, distressing sounds of her unhappiness. A substantial dark-grey stallion stood in front of her, his white, ruffled mane drifting lightly in the breeze, with a sympathetic, yet authoritative expression engraved into his deep-set eyes. The two of them stood next to a teetering tower of luggage, all adorned with the same symbol; three mystic-blue diamonds.
“RARITY?!?” Applejack exclaimed in amazement. She began to gingerly trot over to where the two ponies stood, her head tilted as if she didn’t dare to believe it.
“Oh, well, I guess that will d-APPLEJACK?!?” Rarity ejaculated in wonder, her now-widened azure eyes shifting from the stallion standing with his back to the cowpony and the latter’s intricate, jade eyes. Rarity’s astounding, seemingly flawless features appeared to be cast in a brilliant beam of sunlight as she observed Applejack, her dear friend, gradually approaching.
The stallion turned, alarmed, and sidestepped politely out of the way as the two mares met in a full-hearted hug that seemed to radiate a bright aura of friendship. He stood there uncomfortably, fidgeting, as the two of them broke off, connected their fronthooves, and balanced prudently on their back legs.
Rarity dropped, Applejack following suit, and they smiled at one another warmly. The snow-colored unicorn flipped her mane, glanced at the largest star in space, and looked down again, her hoof bouncing her flourishing curls. Her eyes scanned Applejack’s face, searching for an answer that was lost.
“It’s delightful to see you, Applejack! Yet...why are you here?” Rarity inquired breathlessly, raising her eyebrow keenly in interest. Applejack’s soul grew wings and flew into the brilliant blue sky as she evaluated her friend’s interest. It stroked Applejack’s heartstrings that Rarity cared enough to wonder about Applejack’s presence.
Applejack dismissed the concern with her hoof humbly, glancing towards the unbalanced pile of luggage, mainly for something for her eyes to focus on. “Oh. Erm...Ah’m just headin’ ta Neigh Orleans ta get some extra bits. Sweet Apple Acres is runnin’ low on profit,” she chuckled halfheartedly and smiled weakly; falsely assuring her friend that it wasn’t a problem to be concerned about, “why are ya’ll here?”
Back before the crowning of Princess Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship and one of Applejack’s closest friends, Applejack would’ve been completely honest with Rarity and would’ve told her the entire truth; about the rude bank-stallion, the farm going into bankruptcy, and her going to Neigh Orleans for nine moons to not earn a little bit of cash, but a lot.
Nevertheless, nowadays, Applejack and her friends were pursuing different paths; Rarity was traveling all across Equestria, presenting her fashion opinion to popular ponies...such as Sapphire Shores; Fluttershy was using her Element of Harmony to turn herself into unique creatures, such as Breezies, and study their habits; Pinkie Pie had started a party business with Cheese Sandwich; RainbowDash was at a three-year excursion to the Wonderbolts’ Reserve for her training regime; Princess Twilight Sparkle was protecting Equestria and learning to control magic. The six friends wrote each other often, and gathered on the weekends and holidays at Princess Twilight Sparkle’s palace; but they were all extremely busy and couldn’t be bothered for extremely long periods of time. So, Applejack felt it were best if she kept these problems to herself for the time being. She didn’t need to place the burden on anypony else’s shoulders, so she kept her troubles hugged closely to her chest, preventing the repulsive aroma of stubbornness from reaching her friends’ supportive muzzles. It was her situation, and it was her responsibility to right it, not her friends’; even if the magic of friendship demanded it. It didn’t settle right with Applejack, making her friends fix her mess. They had their destinies to follow, and she had hers. They may cross, they may entwine; branches on the tree of life, but Applejack had no right to force the future.
Rarity blinked, placing her hoof on her chin, caught in the raging current of her creative, perfectionist mind. “Well, you see, Applejack, I am going to visit my uncle in Neigh Orleans so he can get me a meeting of a lifetime!” Her eyes replicated the invisible stars that jeweled the cobalt sky as she dwelled in a land of her dreams; glittering ribbons, one-of-a-kind fabrics, and attire that shone as brightly as heaven’s light. Applejack cleared her throat deferentially to regain Rarity’s attention and crossed her front hooves, vaguely, but respectfully, interested. Fashion was Rarity’s specialty, and even though Applejack didn’t favor it particularly, she was more than delighted to talk about it with Rarity if it pleased her.
“What kinda meetin’ are we talkin’ ‘bout here? Business? Social?” Applejack wondered aloud, baiting Rarity. Rarity’s facial expression appeared to replicate that of a cat’s when they were presented with a heavily scented catnip-yarn toy, and her ears perked up. Applejack tilted her head slightly, causing her Stetson to slide down her forehead an inch. “Darn hat,” she muttered, disgruntled. She bit her tongue, causing a sharp, yet muffled pain, and propped it back up behind her ears.
Rarity squealed, responding, “Oh, Applejack, we are talking about a meeting that could change my life forever! It is literally the most important meeting of my entire career!” She gestured wholeheartedly to Celestia’s Sun, her breath turning into mist as her eyes sparkled and shined; diamonds in sunrise.
“Ah can’t wait ta hear all about it,” Applejack smiled genially and uncrossed her legs that were still brutally aching from her gallop across town. She leaned backwards and tightened the strap on her saddle bags. She licked her cracked lips as the steam engine’s smokestacks puffed a cluster of smoke into the atmosphere, growing smaller and smaller until it was only white wisps forgotten by the air.
“And I can’t wait to tell you! Oh Applejack, what are the chances that you’d be coming to Neigh Orleans the same day that I was! I’m just so happy I could-” Rarity was halted by a screeching whistle, cutting through the air like a bird hurdling through drafts of wind. Rarity’s eyes widened as she clutched her hoof to her chest in trepidation.“ALLL ABBOOOARDDD!” A heavy voice boomed across the platform, rumbling like black thunder across the Red Sea, jolting the roots of Applejack’s hazy mind, and causing several impatient ponies to snap up with alacrity.
“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies,” a voice said sincerely, causing Applejack to jump, “but if you don’t leave now, you’ll miss the train.” Applejack, her heart racing uncomfortably, turned slowly, to find the stallion who had been arguing with Rarity about her luggage, his white hair covering his eyes like a blizzard, blinding and merciless. She had completely forgotten he was there. He gestured to the crowd that was surging forward, a rushed gleam in his eyes. Applejack gulped and nodded, a crimson glow that was beyond the science of red flowing through the atoms of her cheeks, and glanced at the pile of luggage. From behind, Rarity’s eyes dimmed and followed Applejack’s gaze with a inky discomposed feeling clutching her heart. She tut-tutted at her own overdramatic ambience, smiling sheepishly and honestly at the stallion, her impossibly white teeth stealing the sun’s glare.
“I do apologize for the trouble, darling. I’m simply so ecstatic that I can’t think straight. Whatever you can do for my bags is perfect, as long as you take the bags from the top, not the bottom. Here,” Rarity fluttered her eyelashes, as long and as fast as crows’ wings, at the stallion and searched through her saddle bag, mumbling concentratedly, until she gave a satisfied “Ah-ha!” and pulled out an insignificant shimmering viridescent object, “have this for your troubles.” She tilted her head and grinned in a fond way, then tipped the emerald-colored jewel into the stallion’s extended hoof.
The stallion stared at the object, aghast, as ponies galloped past Applejack to the door of The Sunrise Express, their loose luggage bumping the front of her hooves. The train’s whistle blew again, cutting through Applejack’s energy waves of consciousness, causing her to gasp apprehensively and cover her ears. Her Stetson slid down a few inches as she yelled to Rarity, “We’d better go, or we’ll miss the train!”
Rarity nodded determinedly, her eyebrows furrowed, and she tightened the strap on her saddle bag. Applejack tilted her hat to the surprised stallion and winked understandingly before she rotated back to Rarity. The two mares breeched across the crowd with the agility of cats, linked hooves, and began to briskly trot to the train’s opening, crisply avoiding ponies that shoved them aside, reaching for a superior spot in the crowd.
Through the commotion, Rarity glanced at Applejack with a repugnant expression on her face, reminding Applejack of an aggravated feline. She wrinkled her muzzle and leaned towards her friend’s ear, her hot breath tickling the hairs on her neck. “You know, I really don’t see why ponies need to be so,” Rarity had to lean away from Applejack as a ruffled mare shoved past her, “aggressive.” Rarity’s eyes followed the disgruntled mare as she gave her ticket to the conductor.
Applejack bit her tongue and nodded cynically. “Yeah, it don’t make much sense, do it? Ah mean, do they really haveta get in front of everypony else?” She growled furiously as a stallion’s wavering baggage nicked her in the ear, creating a small, bleeding gash across the skin; a red ribbon of fabric against an orange quilt.
As the two mares stepped off of the platform and onto the creaky lavender landing where the conductor was perched, the train’s whistle blew again, signaling that the passenger boarding should be complete. The conductor glared down at the two mares with a black look. The conductor was a gruff stallion, larger than the stallion who had helped with Rarity’s bags, with a permanent sneer on his face, and a carrot-orange mane with a reddish coat. He had sharp, piercing green eyes, a lighter shade than Applejack’s that seemed to send thousands of minuscule shark fangs hurtling into your skin. He strongly disliked when passengers were incompetent and arrived late. If you’re going to take the train, you have to be on time! he always thought. He frowned at the two mares before him, his eyes a never-ending void of guilt that was swallowing them whole.
Applejack and Rarity smiled remorsefully at the stallion, Applejack clearing her throat and tipping her hat to him. Rarity awkwardly shuffled through her saddle bag, keeping her eyes trained on the stallion, surfacing with a gold-colored slip of parchment and a radiant diamond the color of her cutiemark. Applejack shook her left hoof nervously as she dug through her saddle bag, filled with her ticket, pocket change, a journal, a picture, and a quilt. She shoved the picture aside with her hoof and her muscles loosened when she grasped a slim piece of paper...her ticket.
Rarity handed hers to the stallion in a quick movement, turning her glance to the ground as she blushed crimson; the color rising to her cheek like a time-defying sunrise. The stallion grunted, annoyed, and used the hole-puncher in his left hoof to create a hole in the bottom of Rarity’s ticket with a bone-rattling click! Rarity mumbled an almost inaudible, yet polite “Thank you” and took her ticket, placing it gently in the outer pocket of her saddle bag. Applejack stepped forward, handed hers to the stallion, her eyes shifting from the hole-puncher to Rarity’s eyes. They shrugged uncomfortably to each other as Applejack’s ticket was returned to her and the conductor stepped to the side, gesturing to the open door he had been blocking. Applejack cleared her throat, smiled gratefully, and trotted inside, her neck hairs prickling from the invisible shark fangs that had pierced her skin.
Rarity lingered, compromisingly placing the crystalized gem into the stallion’s outstretched hoof. The stallion furrowed his eyebrows and stuck out his lower lip, confused, and turned his attention to the other late mare. Rarity breathed deeply and smiled genuinely at him, causing his metal, unsocial heart to swirl in a tornado of emotion.
“I am so extremely sorry for my friend and I being overdue. Time is the killer of us all, isn’t it?” she muttered, amused, and she shrugged halfheartedly and trotted past the stallion, calling, “Have a charming da-ay!” in a sing-song voice, entering the train and trotting after her friend.
The stallion sighed happily, dreamily observing the diamond as he closed the door with his back hoof. He placed it in the moth-eaten breast pocket of his tweed coat, keeping it close to the small, newly opened door of his heart.
“So, what about this meetin’ of yours?” Applejack threw another piece of catnip at Rarity’s self-absorbed, yet generous spirit as they sat on the carmine leathered benches in the interior of the train. The two mares adjusted themselves to comfort and placed their pinching shoulder blades, utterly sore from standing on the unleveled wood, against the chilling glass window behind them. Through the frozen barrier of the glass, a small exception of sunlight flowed through, lapping the heat waves over the frigid waves on their backs.
Rarity’s glistening snow-colored coat stood out presumably against the somber, maroon wallpaper of the train. She shoved her saddle bag into the compartment under the seat, bordered by two light wooden planks, and thrusted her body backwards, fussing with her tail, until she felt satisfied with her position. Applejack rolled her eyes and poked a section of her lower lip out; it wasn’t a hurtful gesture, it was just a common sign of annoyance that always causes her and her dearest friends laugh. Rarity was just as predictable as a main character in a gothic novel.
Rarity swooned, pulling a hoof towards her chest and, by accident, lightly slapping Applejack across the jaw. Applejack raised her eyebrow, expecting Rarity to continue with her theatrical demonstration. Rarity always acted as if she was a damsel in distress on a high-paying Bridleway Musical; Applejack didn’t think she’d mind portraying that character on a brightly lit stage in front of thousands, shining like the crystal prism she was. In fact, she’d probably enjoy it; being payed to be herself.
“Like I said, darling, it’s simply the most important meeting of my career! I’d be glad to tell you all about it, if you’re willing to listen. I know that my fashion pursuits aren’t really your...” Rarity fumbled with her hooves cumbersomely, as if untangling a knot, searching for the appropriate description, “area of expertise.”
Applejack chuckled, dismissing Rarity’s concern with a wave of a hoof. “Aw, it’s nothin’. You go ahead and talk yurself ta death, ‘cuz we’ve got nothin’ but time.” Applejack whipped her askew mane out of her face and looked, enthusiastically, at Rarity’s disbelieving, yet thrilled expression. Applejack guffawed, clutching a hoof to her aching stomach, sore from laughing so unbreakably. “Go on, Sugarcube, Ah’m listenin’.”
Rarity inhaled, sucking her stomach in so the outlines of her ribs were visible. Applejack raised her eyebrow, confused yet familiar to Rarity’s overused gestures. Crossing her arms, Applejack waited patiently, yet suspiciously, for Rarity’s outlandish introduction.
The snow-white unicorn turned to the window and placed her hooves on the frigid glass, her eyes opening to reveal two crystalline gems, clouded and screaming with the desperate desire of her dreams. Applejack bit her lip and tilted her head slightly, following Rarity’s gaze to the barren that surrounded the train tracks endlessly; a dying, yellowing ocean, stretching in every direction.
“As you know, my dear Applejack, I have always dreamed of becoming popular in high society,” Rarity began, her voice breathless yet calm. Applejack opened her mouth, about to interject that Rarity’s dream has already begun to solve itself, but then thought better of it and shut her mouth again. She nodded, showing Rarity that she was attentively listening.
“Well, you see,” Rarity continued as the train began to rumble underneath them; a monster, awakening from a thousand year slumber, “as a young filly, I was born in Ponyville. I didn’t appreciate the small town chic of the place when I was younger, but I gradually began to love it, and I still live there today.”
Applejack sucked on her tongue, readjusted her Stetson, and flicked her eyes to the other side of the train cart. Yes, of course, she knew this; she knew all of her friend’s triumphs, failures, and stories like the back of her cracked hoof. But with Rarity, if you wanted to get to the revelation quickly, you had to be patient and let her explain herself. The train began to depart from the station as Applejack turned her head to the unicorn beside her.
“While my parents were the type of ponies that would spend their time with sports and...erm, camping,” Rarity said the last word as if it were a disgusting swear word, “my father’s brother, Uncle Marble Symphony-my favorite uncle in the entire universe-grew up in Neigh Orleans with a life that I’ve always dreamed of; divine parties, extraordinary mansions, and amazing, important ponies. You see, darling, Uncle Marble Symphony, or...Big Daddy, as I call him,” Rarity giggled sheepishly, obviously embarrassed at the rather crude nickname, “is an amazing waltzer. Oh my, darling, when I was a little filly, Uncle Marble taught me beauty and grace whenever my family and I stayed with him in his crystal mansion; he would take me into his shining ballroom, order his violinist, Octavia, to play, and the two of us would waltz across the dance floor, under the beautiful chandelier, for hours on end. My uncle taught me to be the belle of the ball.”
Applejack could imagine it vividly; a small, blooming Rarity without a cutiemark, dancing in a grand ballroom with a welcoming, tall stallion, beaming at her as she leaped and twirled across the glistening floor, shining like a diamond in the starlight. Applejack was so absorbed in her vision that she almost forgot to acknowledge that she was listening. “Mm hmm,” she nodded hastily, soothing Rarity’s anxious soul.
“But, after I earned my cutiemark, our family’s visits grew less frequent,” Rarity sighed regretfully, lying her head on the crook of her elbow. “So, as I grew older, I began to write to Uncle Marble Symphony to inform him of the many hills and valleys of my life after my cutiemark appeared. Why, I still write to him now. I wrote to him about the Elements of Harmony, oh, and you, of course. I’ve told Uncle Marble Symphony so much about you, RainbowDash, Twilight, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie, that he could probably recognize you all from a distance!” Rarity shot up and clapped her hooves together ebulliently, her delight causing Applejack a grateful smile. She adjusted her Stetson. To see a friend so gleeful is equivalent to seeing a successful, healthy apple tree.
“Two nights ago, I received a letter from Uncle Marble, stating that he had exciting news! It turns out, at the news of my cutiemark, he had begun researching business opportunities for me. Isn’t that so thoughtful? Oh, darling, I practically squealed with delight. Anyway, he explained that this year he had been voted King of Mardi Gra-such an honor, I know!-and one of his assignments was to collect the most experienced, glamorous ponies in Equestria to assist in planning the awe-spiring soiree before the event, Soleil Balle,” Rarity exclaimed the name in a beautiful, misty voice. “Soleil Balle is one of the most meaningful events, next to the Canterlot Garden Party and the Grand Galloping Gala. It is the celebration of the very first time Princess Celestia raised the sun; a gathering that cannot be missed.”
A realization struck Applejack like a lightning bolt. That’s right, she thought, narrowing her eyes at the leather seat beneath her, it’s near Mardi Gra! Heck, that’s probably there were so many ponies at the train station...more customers fur me!
“Oh, Applejack, you won’t believe it...in the letter, Uncle Marble told me that he could think of nopony more qualified that me to...to...be the palatial overseer of all the music, food, dancing, and decorations!” Rarity squealed, earning suspicious glares from the ponies across from them. Applejack cleared her throat impatiently, gesturing insignificantly towards them, catching Rarity’s unfocused attention. She grinned at them and chuckled apologetically; the short-tempered ponies returned to looking out of the window, reading the newspaper, or staring expressionless at the ground.
“Well, Ah’m plum-grateful for ya, Rarity,” Applejack whispered, her measured grin reassuring Rarity and re-igniting the candle that was the snow-white unicorn’s fervor for life. “Yur uncle sounds like a real great guy, keepin’ ya’ll in his heart and grantin’ ya this once in a lifetime opportunity. Why, if ya’ll don’t get more clients at the end of this trip, Ah’m an apple with no seeds.” She set an encouraging hoof on Rarity’s, causing the unicorns eyes to sparkle questioningly, as if asking, Do you really mean it?
“Ya’ll know that Ah’m honest. Would Ah lie ta ya’ll?” Applejack placed her friend’s hoof on her pulsing, affectionate heart, as if promising that her heart was golden and pure.
Rarity sighed and chuckled lightly, inclining her head thoughtfully. “Darling, I never doubted you.” The two friends sat there, dwelling in each other’s caring gazes, waiting for the next significant moment of time, the next leaf of their lives.
Applejack put a hoof to her chin, considering the explanation Rarity had provided. Where the meeting came into play was still unclear to her. “But, uh...what about the meetin’ ya’ll were talkin’ about?”
The unicorn suddenly gasped, obviously remembering something that was imperative. Applejack jumped back, alarmed by the sudden burst of movement. Rarity slapped a hoof to her cheek, a look of dismay etched clearly on her face. “Oh, darling, I almost forgot! I only get the chance to be the grand overseer if I win the approval of the ten other luxurious ponies chosen to plan the event, including Photo Finish, Hoity Toity, Sapphire Shores, Fancy Paints, and my uncle! Of course, I’ve already earned my uncle’s approval, but earning those other ponies’ approval will be next to impossible if I can’t make a decent impression at the dinner party at my uncle’s mansion tonight! That’s the meeting I’ve been talking about; the atmosphere of this dinner party is going to feel acutely like a meeting, I can assume.”
Applejack adjusted her Stetson, leaning over and pulling Rarity into a tight, believing hug. “Sugarcube, the job’s as good as yours. Ah know in my heart that you’ll make it, and yur career will blossom just like a little apple tree, ready ta grow. Believe you me, if there’s anypony who can do it, it’s you.” She squeezed the mare, causing a groan of discomfort, and she quickly resumed her position against the window. The train was effortlessly churning across a crimson bridge, a thousand feet above a rocky cavern filled with crystal-colored water.
“Thank you, Applejack,” Rarity whispered, smiling warmly at her friend, “it truly means a lot to me...oh! I almost forgot the best part!” Her voice raised shockingly; Applejack raised her eyebrow and banged her head against the class, once again startled by one of Rarity’s predictable outbursts.
Rarity threw her hooves dramaturgically into the air, as if gesturing to the entire, radiant land of Equestria. Her eyes replicated her cutiemark; gallant blue, shining, and illuminated. Applejack rolled her eyes playfully and adjusted her hat, crossing her arms and rubbing her shoulder blades against the uncomfortable glass. She’s always full of surprises, she laughed in her mind.
“If I win the approvals of those ponies, I’ll be hosting an event that all royals, from all parts of Equestria are attending! And that includes...the charming, handsome, amazingly-talented...Prince Naveen!” Rarity swooned as she uttered the name, fluttering her eyelashes closed and falling backwards, as if waiting for an invisible knight to catch her.
Thank Celestia we’re alone on this bench, Applejack winced as Rarity’s back collided with the expensive letter, Luna knows what would happen if Rarity landed on some poor, unsuspecting stallion. She imagined, biting her lip, a crude scene in which Rarity landed in a stallion’s lap, her eyes closed.
“Yur kiddin’, right?” Applejack questioned, raising her eyebrow accusingly. “Don’t ya’ll remember the fiasco with Blueblood? Gosh darnet, that stallion was a royal pain.” She leaned back, the annoyingly posh stallion flickering like a dangerous candle in her mind.
Rarity wheezed, horrified at Applejack’s accusations. “Darling, I assure you that Prince Naveen is nothing like that selfish, pampered Prince. Why, he’s...he’s...he’s practically the stallion of my dreams! Oh, and you should see him play ukelele...his voice is so...so...dreamy....”
Applejack facehooved, feeling a headache clawing her brain, as sharp as eagle talons. Gosh darnet, this mare changes stallions every other week.“Well, Ah hope ya’ll hit off with this...er...Prince Na-what’s-his-hoof and are married happily ever after,” her temples throbbed as she smiled weakly at Rarity’s splayed figure.
Rarity giggled, oblivious to Applejack’s last sentence, lost in her dreamland; no doubt filled with images of the so called Prince and her taking moonlit strolls, kissing, and proposing. “He’ll sweep me away, write me a song or two,” he mumbled unawarely, her hooves clutching her heart as if it were a precious object she wouldn’t dare let out of her sight until it could be placed against the pony of her affections.
“Oh, and by the way, darling, won’t you attend the dinner party with me?” Rarity suddenly surfaced from the waves of desire and snapped up to face Applejack’s puzzled expression. “It would mean so much to me, be a confidence booster, if you will, if I have a friend by my side while I try to win their approval. Besides, you would look most pleasing in an evening gown.” The unicorn’s chest filled with air as she eagerly awaited Applejack’s response.
Applejack blushed, flattening her ears as she looked modestly at the ground. “Aw, shucks, Rarity. Ah mean, Ah don’t do frilly dresses, and my shifts don't start till tomorrow...so Ah guess...Ah guess if it means so much ta ya, then Ah’ll do it. But ya haveta promise me that it WON’T. BE. FRILLY,” on the last three words, Applejack jabbed a dubious hoof at Rarity’s chest, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
Rarity giggled. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye, darling,” she executed the movements of the promise, her movements carrying a sarcastic edge, “I’ll give you the most drab, yet beautiful dress I have.” She stifled an inappropriate burst of laughter by stuffing a hoof hastily into her mouth as Applejack looked away, scowling jokingly.
“Fine. But ya’ll owe me twenty bits if Prince Na-what’s-his-hoof is a jerk.”
